#everything was so violently negative all the time

[blackmoonoracle]

NATAL Moon - Uranus aspect observations in the Natal Chart.

Blurring the line between Psychic Prowess, and utterly Divine Madness 🌚⚡

I've noticed that people who have harsh Uranus/moon aspects or moon conjunct Uranus esp if it's harshly aspected by a malefic tend to have a target on their back socially, ESPECIALLY in childhood. Like everything they do or say just pisses off the family or causes authority figures to lash out in some harsh or restrictive way- which never bodes well for anyone involved. Because moon - Uranus people will in fact drag their dissenters and the people abusing their authority against them to hell alongside them. These are people who psychologically torture authority, both intentionally and unintentionally depending on the scenario. They respond very negatively to having their freedom and self expression infringed upon especially if it's being done so unfairly.

I've also noticed that harsh moon-uranus aspects can look like a violent swing between constant over and understimulation. Finding a happy medium can be difficult, and when they aren't regulated the outbursts are volatile & intense.

If you have this aspect in your chart, feeling understood is very important. You have an almost magnetic need to stand out— and you generally WILL stand out whether you're trying to or not. You’re a natural-born truth-seeker.

Growing up, these natives question everything, and usually don't mind questioning or correcting others. Theres not usually a huge respect for authority either, and these natives have no problem challenging those who abuse their social power. They may even thrive on this dynamic, it's always very much "fuck the system".

While Uranus isn't a trauma marker, it does bring a lot of tension. Those with this aspect often feel like outsiders, like they don’t quite fit in; or they are intentionally singled out & ostracized. I've met a lot of people with moon - uranus who have been primarily targeted by teachers and authority as well. You also have the "popular loner" archetype which I tend to ascribe more commonly to Aquarius SUNS—everyone likes you, but you still feel like you’re living on a different planet.

People with strong Uranus energy often come from families that seem perfect on the outside, or at least very *different* from them. They can also come from families with shocking histories or have notable ancestors/ancestry. There can be sudden deaths, psychic and spiritual phenomena, (and sometimes autism LMAO don't come for me).

Sudden endings and deaths, sporadic change, and a difficult relationship with comfort. The moon is all about our creature comforts & the presence of Uranus can really strip this away from the native. It can feel like grasping at straws trying to soothe or comfort the onslaught of volatile emotion & psychic intensity.

A lot of unpredictable events and insane prophecies come with this placement. It's easy to feel detached from everyone including yourself & dissociative + personality disorders have the potential to brew here for sure.

At times you can feel like the antithesis to social normalcy, and as if your innate being causes nothing but chaos & trouble.

It's unsurprising that many with Moon-Uranus end up being generational cycle/curse breakers & tend to be highly detached from the family. There can be a desire to be freed from one's own ancestry, or to escape the family norm.

Living authentically is a non-negotiable for these folks. It’s just in their DNA. Trying to suppress it is literally like eating glass— being forced to perform or show up inauthentically can be legitimately painful & cause extreme emotional and physical dysregulation.

This is thought to be an aspect that leads to hysterical outbursts, but in my observation it's usually a stimulation issue. Which honestly, I think is one of the biggest lifelong difficulties of this aspect. What other people may see as hysteria or volatility may actually be psychic overload.

Regardless of whether or not other people see it, this is a highly gifted and PROPHETIC placement. They see into the future & have the ability to intuitively read other people's minds.

Think gifted in the sense of telepathy, telekinesis, and even manipulating electromagnetic energy.

Uranus has a "futuristic knowing” that really boosts the already psychic nature of the moon.

Uranus also brings duality, and these folks intrinsically understand this universal llaw. With the right support, these individuals can become powerful manifestors, using their deep understanding of reality to shape their world and to redefine the world for others. These natives are highly proficient in recognizing patterns and often disrupt things, even when they don’t mean to.

Learning to ride out the emotional roller coaster is a necessary skill to develop for those carrying this energy. The highs and lows can be draining, so grounding is essential. They tend to see things in black-and-white, which can lead to intense emotional outbursts or social withdrawal. There's also a tendency to spiral from information overload. The constant desire for intellectual stimulation can drive you crazy & also cause attention span issues., Difficulty focusing, difficulty managing and maintaining relationships, can have an anxious-avoidant attachment or be prone to attracting anxious-avoidant dynamics.

There can be a major lesson in accepting losses & being comfortable with discomfort. Nothing feels predictable or reliable for moon-uranus individuals, which can lead to a pessimistic outlook & feelings of dread.

But despite it all, these people walk to the beat of their own deum, & remain true to themselves, even when the world refuses to get it.

[ceiling-karasu]

I know I said I was going to avoid social media, but it isn't so bad on Tumblr all of a sudden? The vast majority of the angry 'go die' posts that dominated the site for months are just gone, and mostly replaced by positive 'we will get through this' and actual helpful/productive messages.

It reminds me of the positivity I saw back in 2016.

[hipipi]

.

[rainrot4me]

Jeff the Killer General Headcannons

Summary: Basic, SFW, and NSFW head-cannons. My personal thoughts, feelings, and opinions about Jeff as a character.

TW: NSFW below the cut, minors dni! Above the cut is sfw!

Words: 2.6k

Basic:

- Big isolation guy. He enjoys pestering people or hanging out, but when it comes to personal things like missions or killing sprees, he prefers to be alone. His head’s already loud enough that he doesn’t need to add to it when he’s trying to focus.

- Blunt. Like to the point it’s a drag to even talk to him sometimes. He doesn’t really give a shit about anyone or anything besides himself, so why would he need to hide what he actually wants to say?

- Dangerously short temper. It barely takes one nasty remark or even a hint that you have ill intent towards him before the killer is on your ass. Would rather beat the shit out of you than take the time to reconcile.

- A STARER. Has absolutely no remorse when just boring his eyes into someone, eyes wide and horrifying. He loves to watch every expression as he’s ending someone’s life, every bit of anger or fear, but especially the blank stare in their eyes afterward. You catch his glance all the time, and instead of looking away politely like a normal person would, he just smiles as he glares even harder.

- Loves story based video games that Ben shows him. Life is Strange, Night in the Woods, and What Remains of Edith Finch. Has to play them all in their entirety before he can do anything else, so he’ll be glued to the couch for days.

- Has a difficult time with names, so he comes up with nicknames or terms to make it easier. “Twitch” - Toby, “Sockets” - Jack, or “Glitch” - Ben. Don’t worry, he’ll give you one, too.

- A laugher. When he’s in pain, when he’s sad, when he’s happy, that man is laughing. Choked out dry heaving chuckles or tipsy short airheaded giggles, it doesn’t matter, he will be laughing.

- Terrible sleep paralysis and nightmares keep him up during the night, the most sleep this man will ever get is a little over 3 hours. It really doesn’t help his mood, either.

- The scars on his cheeks used to bleed and get infected so bad he could barely shut his mouth due to the swelling. He would numb it down with pain killers and anything he could find, but it wasn’t until Slender tried to make him into a proxy that they eventually sealed and scarred over, creating wide gashes (weird cryptid powers).

- Thinks about his brother every waking moment. He feels so much pent up regret and sadness concerning Liu, but refuses to search for him or even shed a tear. This sends him into mental breakdown episodes, and sadly, the only relief is just to create more carnage.

- Actually really hates violence unless he’s the one delivering it. Doesn’t like violent movies or music because they romanticize everything he hates about himself. Any media he enjoys is either really bland or really toned down, stuff that won’t trigger him.

- Cuts his own hair, and yes, he’s horrible at it.

- Messed up his appearance to make himself ‘beautiful’, but just ended up so disgusted and ashamed of himself in the long run. When his mental fog gets bad, he’ll just stand in front of the mirror and stare at himself, letting every negative thought wash over. Outside, he’ll brandish it like a weapon, something to get victims to submit. But on the inside, it’s just a nasty reminder.

- Showers only when it gets to the uncomfortable point. He doesn’t have the time or energy or wash himself every day, but when it gets to the point he feels the blood and grime subconsciously, he’ll get over it. Even if he does wash himself, half the time actually in the shower is just letting the water run over him and staring at the tile wall.

- Gets all of his money and random trinkets from victims. Proceeds to spend all that money almost immediately after on a pack of Blue Moons. No orange slice, either.

- Messy, disgusting room. Has no healthy habits of keeping him or his space tidy, so it’s always near disastrous.

- Even though the media and lots of outlets perceive him as this insane maniac killer, those were all big stories from his teenage years. Even though he doesn’t feel like he’s matured, he’s definitely found a happy medium away from spree after spree of slaughter. He still itches to take down a whole neighborhood, but he’s found his ways to cope.

- Very good at hand-to-hand combat. He wields a knife if things get a little rough, but prefers to use his hands to do the dirty work. Makes it feel more personal to him.

- Late-night kitchen demon. You’ll find him rummaging the fridge or making a bowl of cereal in the complete darkness, but he’ll swear up and down it wasn’t him.

- Annoying, painfully so. Hell wrack EJ’s ear off or pester Toby about little things, but he can’t help but get giddy when he sees he’s ticked them off just enough.

- Really agile. Had a thinner build, but muscle definition and tension really adds to the aesthetic. Really defined v-line and hips bones, as well as carved out shoulders and collarbones. Looks like a beefier skeleton, but hot.

- Lip piercings. Snake bites. They’re not healed and they’re not pretty, but he thinks they look badass.

- Scars and jagged pieces of flesh everywhere on his body. They’re either from mission aftermaths, rough targets, or his own doing, but they’re all gnarly and barely healed half of the time. They hurt terribly, but he’s constantly cracked out on painkillers that he doesn’t even care anymore.

- Enjoys the shoegaze music genre. Aldn, Wisp, Elita, Deftones, and surprisingly, The Cardigans and The Cranberries. They remind him of his childhood.

Dating Him/SFW:

- “Baby” “Babe” “Cunt”

- Big words of affirmation guy. He’ll act disgusted and shove you off, rolling his eyes about your sweet words- but in reality, he’s gushing so hard he can’t stand it. Reassurance makes him feel more loved than anything.

- The fastest ‘enemies or lovers’ troupe you’ll ever experience. It’ll only take one face-to-face argument before you both get too close and he’s pulling you in for a rough make out. He’s bad with emotions, what makes you think he wouldn't be bad at reading love/hate signals too.

- HATES to show any sign of weakness or adoration. If you’re laying with him or holding his hand, as soon as someone enters the room he’s shoving you off. It’s not that he doesn’t love you, it’s a deep-rooted fear that someone will use you against him.

- If he’s spent the night in your bed, he will always be gone by the time you’ve woken up. Out of fear of vulnerability, he will only fall asleep after you and wake up before you, otherwise he just won’t stay with you at all.

- He’s like dealing with a little kid. Yes, he’s been through heaps of mental anguish and trauma, but he’s gone through all of that without a hand to hold. In some sad way, he sees something motherly and comforting in you which drives him to latch on and become dependent. It's weird, but so is he.

- Jealousy problems. Big time.

- “He touched you. So I cut his arm off. What is so hard to understand here?”

- Needs to be bossed around. He can and will rot in his bed all day unless you tell him to get up and do something.

- Absolutely melts when you kiss him unprovoked. When he doesn’t force you or tease you into one, but when you decide to kiss his face or hands on your own terms. It’s his favorite thing.

- In his manic brain, he wants something calm, someone who can settle him out. You offer him stability and a chance to unwind and that’s really all he needs.

- As a nervous response, he’ll intentionally push you away if he knows you like him. He holds a lot of regret, so he doesn’t want to drag you along with the rest of his baggage. Will say and do things he knows will hurt your feelings so you leave on your own.

- “And what made you think I’d want you? Because we kissed? Hah! How cute.” Meanwhile, he’s in his room pining himself to shreds.

- Watches you sleep constantly. Doesn’t matter where you are or how far, he will trek through your window or into your bed to watch you snore quietly against your pillow. He likes the vulnerability of it and acting as your ‘protector’, like you have no choice but to rely on him in this state.

- You are the last person Jeff wants to break down in front of, but when it eventually happens, and you’re there with open arms- the killer can barely breathe from how full his heart feels. The feeling of just being able to sob and bury into your shoulder while you rub his back is incomparable.

- Possessive AND protective to a fault. Wants everyone to know you’re his, but at the same time, really enjoys when you flaunt yourself so he can stare down the wandering eyes and really show them who they’d be messing with. Either way, eats it up when you feel good about yourself and safe in him.

- Nasty, terribly toxic relationship. You both bounce off of each other and are constantly arguing, but you both get over it because you’ve grown codependent. There’s nothing ‘casual’ about the two of you, you’re either fuck buddies or desperately clawing at each other for survival. Jeff is an obsessive guy, he either wants everything to do with you or he’ll hide away and tear himself apart over you.

- Jewelry is such a yes for him. If you’re wearing thick earrings or chunky necklaces that brighten your face, he eats it up. He’s such a sucker for silver.

- Does not ask for kisses, he takes them.

- “C’mon baby, I can’t help it. You’re just so fun to mess with.”

- Since he doesn’t sleep much, likes to lay on his back while your head rests on his chest/shoulder. He’ll tangle his fingers through your hair or brush your cheek with his thumb while he stares at you or the ceiling. Even when he has doubts about you loving him, your body always subconsciously shifts towards him while you’re snoozing, and it makes him feel just a little better.

- Fake punches/hits you when he’s bored. Will hold his hands up and box at your face but never making contact, just enough to have you side-eye him. He thinks it’s funny.

- Shoulder kisses.

Dating Him/NSFW:

- Can and will touch you inappropriately no matter the circumstances. His rough hands groping your ass or shoving between your thighs to give flirty little touches in front of everyone, his shit-eating grin when you get embarrassed.

- “Stop glaring, sweet cheeks. I know you want me.”

- Will fight to his dying day that he’s a top, but as soon as you even give him a glint of dominance or snap at him, he’s folding so fast. Dominant person, submissive lover.

- Killing machine on the field, pathetic ass bottom in bed. It takes forever to get to that point, but once he’s mentally checked out and half-drooling on the mattress, he’s so pliable and lightheaded he’ll take it with ease. You have to really work for it, but Jeff trusts you/wants it bad enough subconsciously that he’ll force himself to go into a subspace.

- All-time favorite position is laying you out on your back, one leg up on his shoulder while the other is being held down at your side. It really opens you up and gives the nastiest, most lewd noises that have him pussydrunk. Bonus points for reaching a hand in to choke you.

- “And to think you were beggin’ me to stop while your pussy is soaked. I mean, look at you, babe. You’re suckin’ me in somethin’ awful.”

- CHOKING. Either you or him, he gets off on it so bad. Choking you is so satisfying, he loves the resistance and struggle as you gasp for air, face flushed and eyes rolling with his fist around your throat. Meanwhile, if you’re choking him, his body nearly convulses from the pleasure. He loves the lightheadedness and pressure of it, hoarse chuckles as both of your hands grip around his neck and just squeeze. He thinks he could cum just from being strangled.

- “What’s wrong, baby? Lil’ too much? Ah- You’ll get over it, just open up f’me.”

- Hair pulling, strangling, biting, smacking—really anything that’ll cause pain.

- Standing side-by-side in the mirror, his body is littered with nasty cuts and scars while yours is littered with pretty bite marks and hickeys. He loves it.

- Eating you out is so tiring, but it’s all worth it to look up and see your heavy, glassed-over eyes beaming down at him, lips parted as you’re gasping.

- Hard, quick thrusts that have you gasping and yelping. His hips snap against yours rhythmically until you throw your head back, then he leans in close and shifts his knees closer to really speed up. He never has a set pace, but prefers always adjusting to whatever has you making the most noise.

- “C’mon… Louder- Hah- I’m not stoppin’ till you’re cryin’ for it.”

- A bitch fight every time you two get together. Bickering with the other about ‘who can last longer’ or ‘going until you beg for it’ and it irritates the shit out of both of you. Gets you both riled up that you’re more fighting than fucking, but by the end, you’re both dead exhausted and reduced to panting messed laid out on top of each other.

- Refuses to pull out. He can’t get you pregnant, Slender made sure of that (God help if this heathen was allowed to procreate), so it’s either in your cunt, ass, or mouth, nowhere else. Even if he’s jerking himself off, he’ll wait to cum until he can get to you and finish himself out.

- Stands over you and stares hard enough until you’re reduced to your knees, words never even leaving his lips before you’re unbuckling his belt and shifting his jeans down. He’s fought you enough, sometimes you like to just be good for him.

- Pulling him in by his belt >>>>>>>>>

- Eating you out or sucking you off so much that drool leaks from his scars, eyes so hazed and soft as he hums and moans against you.

- “You’d like that, wouldn’t you?”

- Fucked you with the handle of his knife because you read something about it in a book and wanted to see if it actually felt good. He was weirded out at first, but when he watched you jerking your hips and mumbling for him to fuck you, he’s never fucked his cock in faster while rubbing the blunt of the handle against your drooling clit. Same thing with running the blade against your skin. It just elicits some reaction out of you that he can’t understand, but it turns him on terribly.

- Has a big thing for cop x prisoner roleplay actually.

- “What? Officer, how am I supposed to finger you with these handcuffs, hm? I guess you’ll just have to let me go, yeah? Or do you not want it as bad as your pussy leads me to believe?”

- Really loves fingering you while he’s buried in your ass. Curling his fingers up to make you arch your back just a little more, having your head spinning from the overstimulation… yeah.

- A 2-3 round champion. He’ll never be able to just cum once and be satisfied, regardless if you’re ready to stop or not, he’s forcing his cock back into wherever it was or in a completely different hole and riding himself out to his next orgasm. If he’s not shaking and on the verge of passing out after sex, it wasn’t good enough for him.

- “Jeff, stop! We could get caught!” “Or you could just shut up and take your panties off. You’re soaked, there’s no point in fighting me when I’m already this hard… C’mon, baby, give me your hand or something…”

Thanks for reading!

Comments and reblogs are appreciated!

[finsplurtz]

ruined vanilla — izuku.midoriya

— dom ! male.reader x sub ! Izuku midoriya

— contents : izuku gets turned into a bdsm lover , argument turns into crazy sex or smth… short loll , deku does pee himself uhm. Begging and yay

warnings : there is a PISS KINK in there so be wary…

✩°｡ ⋆⸜ 🎧✮

thinking about vanilla!izuku with like the kinkiest partner ever

He was scared shitless during first time sex with you but you made sure it went smoothly and gently and slowly with the most care in the world…

Well now you can’t take that away from him

Izuku is SO vanilla, he loves slow passionate sex filled with kisses and quiet praises, sweet quiet moans as you both make a mess on each other…..it’s so SOFT HE LOVES IT

He always passes out with a smile on his face just happy as hell and you swear you gain an extra 10 years of life because he’s SO CUTE

but you’re the real freak and can’t help but wonder what he’d be like all overstimulated and crying n shi

You’ve got issues BUT ITS OKAY

Izuku is too scared to do anything more than vanilla sex, toys? Absolutely not, one time you brought it up while in the act he shed a couple tears and gave you the saddest eyes you just… YOU HAD TO PUT THE FUCKING TOY AWAY

dirty talk. deeearrrr loooorrrrrdd he will be tears, he’d hate it so much he just wants LOVE nothing negative.

“I wanna make ya feel better…vanilla is sooo boringgg” you whine to your green haired boyfriend who giggles and kisses you knowing you’d never go against his word, his cute faces save him and he knows they are your weakness. He’s got nothing to worry about

One argument goes down and you give him the time of his life

Hands tied, legs spread, cock buried deep inside his twitching hole and a small vibrator stimulating his cock at the same time. Tugs and slaps to his nipples that make him jolt and whimper breathlessly.

He’s whining and can’t say anything, the ball gag in his mouth preventing him from speaking. His eyes can barely stay open, he’s looking at you with begging glossy green eyes, flushed face it’s all so much. You can’t help but want to keep him like this all night:(

His dick is twitching from how much he’s already nutted lawl and his prostate was so sensitive, your dick barely touching it has him squirming and crying.

“what…too much, dear..?” You hold back a grin and wipe his tears away. Everything muffled, you look at his saliva coated ball gag and let out a small chuckle.

“I’ll take this off. Only if you admit you were wrong, and apologize.” You bring your hands over to the back of his head where you played with the buckle.

He’s biting the ball and glaring at you.

“Hm. Too bad.. I really wanted to kiss you” you sigh and bring your hands back down to his hips where you held him tightly, fucking into his used up hole.

He moaned and cried, you notice he started to get a bit more violent and looked back at his tear filled orbs. You pull the gag forward letting him speak, “y-yn st..stop it..! I need to p..nghh..” he looked down at his dick that vibrated due to the toy, he’s stuttering and you caught on.

You wrap your hand around the base of his dick, thumb at the tip. He screeched and moved around telling you to stop.

“It’s alright, izu. You can go” you can’t take your eyes off his pathetic face, biting your lip at his expressions. He gasped as he stopped holding his piss in, panting all exhausted. He’s embarrassed and his breath is hitching, the vibrations don’t stop and it’s starting to hurt.

“Augh..~! Yn please I’m..I can’t..!” He bent over trying to cover his lower half.

You still hadn’t let go of the ball and watched as he looked up at you with his big green eyes. “well?” You grind up into him, your dick hitting that spot again. He rolls his eyes back and groans, “please yn..? I’m sorrrry…I won’t..do it again..~ so p..plea..” you pull the gag down getting it off him.

He’s sighed in relief as you took the mini vibrator off.

“I’m not finished yet…just lay there in your mess, yeah?” You coo, his dick twitching at your nasty voice.

Before he passed out while you were pounding into him restlessly, his back was arched and he gripped the sheets till his knuckles turned white. His legs trembled like crazy, the last thing he remembered were your rough kisses and bites on his soft skin.

He woke up in your arms, he felt so refreshed it was brazy he just looked at your resting face and touched it gently. He kept thinking back to how you treated him and as dirty as it sounds he kept giggling and squealing to himself thinking about it

he was scared it’d hurt or just be scary but noooo he turned into a real FREAK

After that day you guys had sex that was way more intense, he became a slight brat and you loved it lol! He’s so cute I love his green locks

a/n: writers block will not keep me away from deku

[yandere-daydreams]

tw - modern!au, unhealthy relationships, obsessive behavior, nonconsensual touching, and stalking. written for a very lovely anonymous commissioner.

“I’ve been thinking about us, again.”

He was barely trying to whisper, his voice loud enough to earn several pointed looks from the people around you. You’d tried to put yourself at a distance from the rest of the class, to sit in a deserted corner of the near-empty lecture hall, but he wouldn’t have cared if you were in the first row. That was something you’d had to learn quickly about him – Kunikuzushi was shameless at the best of times, actively vitriolic at the worst. Your public humiliation wasn’t just a pleasant side-effect of his company, but an active goal he was striving towards during every minute you spent together.

“You don’t have to look so worried – if I was going to break up with you, you’d know.” You kept your eyes trained on the lecturer, your expression schooled to practiced disinterest, but his voice lulled like you’d broken into tears. You felt him shift that much closer to you – his thigh pressing into yours. “I just don’t think we spend enough time together. I know, I know, we’re both busy, but still. If I didn’t know better, I’d think you were avoiding me.”

You were. Just last week, you’d spent two hours locked in your bedroom closet – lights off and knees pulled into your chest – because Kuni had somehow gotten your address and decided it would be a good use of his time to loiter on your doorstep and refuse to leave until you came out. You planned your day-to-day schedule meticulously to make sure it would never bleed into his, went out of your way not to have to go where you knew he would be, but there was only so much you could do to get away from someone willing to blow off his classes and skip work just to spend the better part of a day sending you candid pictures from one of his countless burner phones. You could only be thankful he was too caught up in his own delusions to ever let his obsession turn violent. Lashing out at you for never acknowledging whatever relationship he thought you were in would be akin to admitting you didn’t have a relationship at all, he would never do that.

He took up your hand, his fingers soon intertwined with yours. You tried, weakly, to pull away from him, but he only let out a breathy chuckle, his head soon resting on your shoulder. Compared to how he’d acted when you first met – standoffish, bristly, constantly on the verge of losing his temper – he was practically a touch-starved puppy, happy so long as he could sit in your lap and bask in your attention, positive or negative.

If only you’d ever wanted a pet.

“I don’t know why I can’t just come out and say it.” Another laugh, a playful squeeze to your hand. “I think we should move in together.”

You snapped in his direction, your knees jolting against the bottom of your desk and earning a few pointed glares. After mouthing a sheepish apology, you dug your nails into the back of his hand, keeping your voice as low as possible. “Kuni, I— I don’t think that’s—”

“Don’t think it’s practical?” Predictably, he cut you off. “I knew you’d say that. If it wasn’t for me, you wouldn’t be able to find the nerve to leave your apartment.” You felt his smile against the dip of your shoulder, then the crook of your neck as he nuzzled against you. “I’ve already handled it. By the time that moron—“ He rolled his eyes towards your professor. “—shuts up, everything should be taken care of.”

You felt something heavy and sharp drop into the pit of your stomach. “But, you don’t have a key—”

“I made myself a key a couple weeks ago – got tired of waiting for you to offer. I love you, babe, but you’re too timid for your own good.” His grin, pressed the curve of your throat. “You can thank me later on, after I’ve shown you our new place.”

His hand fell to your thigh, just a touch too high not to trigger some buried, primal instinct inside of you. You didn’t think, didn’t hesitate – bolting upward and tearing yourself away from him. Your chair scaped against the tile floor, your palms slamming against the desk, and in an instant, every pair of eyes in the lecture hall were on you. The professor scowled in your direction, his ire tangible. “Do you have something to say, (L/n)?”

You opened your mouth, but your mouth was dry, your throat suddenly swollen shut. Your gaze fell back to Kuni – his smile still wide and his eyes still so, so dark.

Wordlessly, you shook your head and collapsed back into your seat. As the lecture picked back up and all concentration was returned to the front of the rom, Kuni latched onto you once again, his hold twice as strong and twice as suffocating as it had been.

It was almost a comfort to know that, this time, there wasn’t anything you could do to get away from him.

[river-of-wine]

I know I’ve mentioned this plenty of times before but I’m still kind of annoyed by how the fanbase just kind of completely declawed the four lords and placed the entirety of the responsibility for their wrongdoings on Mother Miranda.

The Baker family are great, I love them, they’re an incredible unit of antagonists who are intended to be very sympathetic, at least for the most part. Jack and Marguerite in particular have lost all control over their minds and their bodies, turning into extremely violent murderers and cannibals who threaten and attack their own family, kill anyone unfortunate enough to come across them and, especially in Marguerite’s case, lose complete autonomy over their own bodies. Marguerite turns into a walking bug hive who’s only purpose is to feed her family and birth her new children. Jack is an unstoppable murderous force of patriarchal violence who has so much fun chasing down and harming his victims, which in the Daughters DLC includes even his own daughter. The exception to this is obviously Lucas, who has been cured of his infection and his acting of his own free will. All of this is caused by Eveline, everything Jack and Marguerite do controlled by her, and yet Eveline is just as sympathetic as the rest of them. She’s a ten year old girl. Even Jack, who has watched his family and their victims suffer because of her infection, doesn’t seem to hold any of it against her. She just wants a family of her own, after all. It’s a complex and tragic situation.

The four lords, while I suppose being similar in structure, are not the Baker family. Not in dynamic, not in character, not in the kind of tragedy that they embody. I could talk for a while about just how completely different they are, but I don’t know if I really need to.

The Baker family are so tragic because they were just innocent bystanders trying to help a woman and a little girl they found in a shipwreck out in a storm. That’s the only reason they ended up in the situation that they were in. While the lords have similar origins, being victims of Mother Miranda’s experiments to bring her daughter Eva back, an important distinction between them is that in the case of the lords, all four of them are still acting of their own free will. Yes, Mother Miranda has undeniable power over them. She leads the cult they are part of, she has control over the village, she is their superior. However, I really dislike when every negative action by the lords is pushed onto her, as if the lords are not all grown adults who are for the most part acting independently of her.

With Alcina, she is the head of her own extremely brutal crimes. I think a lot of people have forgotten quite how horrifying the situations of the maidens are, possibly due to the prevalence shipping between Alcina and the maidens, and though we have minimal information what we do know is very frightening. Alcina uses her work force like livestock, draining them for their blood in a cellar full of horrific torture devices, and leaves their corpses to shamble around, armed and ready to attack any unwanted guests that have slipped out of the daughter’s clutches so that Alcina still doesn’t have to do her own dirty work, given how highly above everyone but Mother Miranda she appears to view herself as. While yes, Alcina does need human blood to survive, her methods are brutal, and none of this has been enforced upon her by Mother Miranda. Similarly to Jack on occasion, she takes a great deal of pleasure in hurting and attacking Ethan as he runs from her. Additionally, everything she does to Ethan is against Mother Miranda’s request. While yes, it is retaliation after he killed Bela, the part I often see people leave out is that Alcina is equally as upset that he entered her property and was attempting to steal from her, and she isn’t just after him to kill him.

Alcina has also been an active participant in aiding Mother Miranda with at least one experiment, considering that I’d how she got her daughters. While I’m sure her strong admiration for Mother Miranda and Mother Miranda’s power over her has absolutely had an affect in this, that’s not something I’ll deny, Alcina is still a grown woman and in her written entries about this shows no qualms about her participation in this. Her general attitude towards others, using young women as a good source and turning men into scarecrows, also leads me to believe that she does not exactly care who gets hurt or taken advantage of when it comes to her and Mother Miranda’s personal endeavours.

Donna and Moreau are the two more sympathetic people within the four lords, but they are not innocent. To start with Moreau, he’s desperate for Mother Miranda’s approval, as well as the other lords. He’s insecure and lonely, and he’s doing what he has been instructed by Mother Miranda when it comes to protecting the flask. However, he does also take quite a bit of joy in trapping Ethan in the reservoir and swimming after him with the intention to eat and kill him. Moreau though, given his conditions and circumstances, is the one I think is the least to blame for what he does.

Donna is hard to discuss because we know so little about her. Her parents are dead, as well as whoever Claudia was to her, she communicates through Angie and she can cause those who enter her house to hallucinate. According to Mother Miranda, Donna is severely mentally ill and that is what has made her an unfit vessel. I think a lot of people took this to mean that Donna is unaware of what she is doing, that the hallucinations she is showing Ethan are frightening, but after having been a fan of this game for years I just can’t agree with that anymore. Donna intentionally lures Ethan into her house with visions of his supposedly dead wife. Donna is going after fears she likely knows Ethan has, making him relive Mia’s death, take apart a mannequin of her, listen to her voice panic over something being horribly wrong with Rose, all building towards the horrifying baby that chases him through the house. There is no way Donna doesn’t understand how what she is showing Ethan is distressing, especially when you consider that, given how she can make herself appear and disappear at will within Ethan’s vision and that Angie is sitting in the hallways stationary and unspeaking, Donna was likely close by Ethan at all times and could see and hear his frightened reactions to what she was intentionally showing him.

Donna’s death is upsetting, but Ethan was not just chasing her down and killing her. Donna was attacking him, or at least she was controlling her dolls to do so. It’s still a hallucination, but Ethan doesn’t know that. When faced with a threat that is keeping you trapped and trying to end your life, you will likely try to get away or try to fight back, as Donna is doing to Ethan after he starts to attack her and Ethan is doing to Donna when he thinks his life is still in danger. I would also like to remind everybody that Donna communicates through Angie. What Angie is saying, that’s Donna. Angie doesn’t talk or move once she’s dead, it is Donna who controls her.

Lastly, Heisenberg. I think Heisenberg is the one of the four most entrenched in headcanons. Headcanons are fine, I am never in this post trying to suggest they aren’t, but my issue comes in when people use them to try and change the canon of the game. For example, it’s fine to believe that Heisenberg was experimented on by Mother Miranda as a child, but that isn’t canon. It’s fine to believe that Heisenberg mourned the deaths of his siblings, but that isn’t canon. The opposite is, with Heisenberg not viewing the cult as an actual family and being very openly mean to all three other lords, even Donna and Moreau who seemingly haven’t done anything to slight him. While his goal of killing another Miranda is a very understandable and sympathetic one given what she has done to him, using a six month old baby as a weapon and trying to bring her father into the mix only to try to get him killed when he denies him is not. I cannot overstate quite how little Heisenberg actually cared for Ethan and Rose’s safety when it came to his goal, and given that we are playing as Ethan, Rose is the priority.

Heisenberg has built an army of corpses he has presumably stolen and desecrated. This is kind of fucked up actually, and done completely independently of Mother Miranda. He also puts Ethan through a very dangerous lycan gauntlet before he even reaches the factory, which makes it even stranger to me that people seem to interpret Heisenberg’s deal as something that would have benefitted both him and Ethan and as if he ever had Ethan’s safety in mind.

All four of the lords have tragic aspects to them and there are definitely reasons to sympathise with all four. They’re victims of Mother Miranda, who knows they will all be killed. She wants them to be, giving her less to deal with by the time she has Eva back. They never meant anything to her. Not Alcina or Moreau, who were desperate for her attention. Not Donna, suffering from her unspecified but apparently severe mental illness. Not Heisenberg, who was seemingly her favourite creation. However, all of them are grown adults who do their own bad things independently of her.

And it’s fine to still like them. It’s fine for them to be your favourite character. It’s fine to have happy or nice headcanons about them or want to kiss them or be their friend or to want them to have survived. It’s fine to like characters who do shitty things. It’s to be expected in a game series like Resident Evil. It’s a horror game series. People are going to do bad things.

I just find it so boring when people take away all their bite. What makes a character like Lady Dimitrescu so fun it’s that she’s completely over the top. She’s campy and ridiculous, her castle layout makes no sense, she’s got three kids made of swarms of flies dressed like a set of goth triplets, she’s a lesbian who’s castle is full of naked statues of women, she turns into a big dragon and laughs maniacally while flying around and trying to eat you. She’s evil and it’s fun. It’s the same with Heisenberg. He’s a campy show off with a fun voice and a massive hammer he never actually uses. He can control metal. He looks like a cowboy. He pronounced Miranda in a funny way. He talks to you over an intercom while trying to get you killed. They’re fun and evil and they fight over who gets to kill Ethan like they’re two little kids. It’s absurd.

What makes a character like Donna so scary is that she’s silently working in the shadows, unassuming at a first glance and unseen for most of the time in her house. She is the least threatening of the four upon first glance, and yet she has undeniably the most frightening part of the game. Pretending as if Donna is completely unaware of what she is doing and babying her like she is an incapable child waters her down completely and takes away from the effectiveness of her character.

Villain characters are great! They’re very often the highlight of the story they are in, and they aren’t real! The four lords especially are often so completely exaggerated in what they do as well. It’s fine to like villains! It doesn’t make you bad! Characters can be bad people and you can still like them!

It’s just frustrating seeing a group of very fun and exciting villains, all designed with different aspects of horror, all over the top and campy and stupid and fun, all doing their own set of fucked up things, watered down to a set of poor innocent victims who have never done any wrong ever. If you want Jack and Marguerite, take Jack and Marguerite. Lady Dimitrescu loves killing and eating women and Karl Heisenberg turns corpses into soldiers. They’re bad people and they do comically exaggerated bad things. If you can’t stomach liking a character like that, horror is probably not the genre for you. Unless it’s Resident Evil 7, I suppose, but apparently tall women aren’t hot when it’s Marguerite Baker crawling on the walls.

[gatorbites-imagines]

Thank you so much for writing for Invincible!!!!!! There's hardly anything especially with a male reader

So like yandere Mark, am i right? If he were to be yandere i could totally imagine him using his powers to intimidate his lover and get rid of anyone who he doesn't like and he would act like it's your fault if you're sad when he kills someone, he got it from his dad

Mark Grayson Yandere Alphabet

I found this yandere alphabet, so I decided to fill it out for Mark :3c This is post season 2 mark, or something around that, which is why Mark is different to what Nolan would be like. Let me know if you guys wanna see more alphabets like this.

Affection: How do they show their love and affection? How intense would it get?

I think after everything that’s happened, Mark would be a very clingy guy. He would hug, hold, and kiss his darling any chance he gets. It can get pretty intense, like, mark holding you so hard bones would break if you try to wiggle free or if he’s feeling extra emotional, be it positive of negative. In the beginning hed be too shy to kiss you, but when he crosses that bridge, he never stops.

Blood: How messy are they willing to get when it comes to their darling?

After everything with his dad and with Angstrom, it would be much easier for Mark to get violent and bloody, especially if he thinks someone is trying to harm you, in his opinion. And to him, anybody trying to rescue you from him is a threat.

Cruelty: How would they treat their darling once abducted? Would they mock them?

I don’t see Mark as someone who would mock his darling. Instead, he would try to pamper you and make you love him back, to make you accept that this is your new life now and its for the best. He would be overly affectionate, to the point where its extremely overbearing. His horrible self-worth also makes you seek a lot of validation. So, all in all, he’s very draining to be around.

Darling: Aside from abduction, would they do anything against their darling’s will?

Mark would hug you, cuddle you and kiss you against your will. Hed go as far as to force you to take care of yourself if you don’t, either by him doing it for you, or watching you like a hawk as you do it. hed never force himself on his darling though, since he still sees himself as a hero.

Exposed: How much of their heart do they bare to their darling? How vulnerable are they when it comes to their darling?

He would expose his heart to you from the very beginning, since he feels so guilty about kidnapping you. Mark would just word-vomit everything he feels and how this is what he needs to do, because he loves you so much and can’t lose you.

Fight: How would they feel if their darling fought back?

Mark would be so sad, but he understands why his darling fights back in the beginning, at least some part of him does. But he would grow frustrated if they kept fighting back for a longer period of time, since he thinks hes doing the right thing. Why cant his darling just SEE that?

Game: Is this a game to them? How much would they enjoy watching their darling try to escape?

Its in no way a game for Mark, this is almost life and death for him. He hates seeing you trying to escape too, since he knows its just proof that you don’t love him back or understand his version of the truth.

Hell: What would be their darling’s worst experience with them?

Probably the fact that there is a high possibility that Mark has killed his darling’s family and loved ones, since if he killed them, there’s no reason for you to leave right? You have no one else, just him, and that’s all you need. Hes also broken many bones, sometimes without meaning too, and sometimes on purpose.

Ideals: What kind of future do they have in mind for/with their darling?

He fantasizes about an almost movie like future, with a happy spouse who loves him back just as much as he loves them, where you’ll greet him at the door and embrace him so happy he’s home. It wouldn’t be too out of this world for Mark to imagine his darling as still living in solitude in what he deemed the safest place.

Jealousy: Do they get jealous? Do they lash out or find a way to cope?

Mark gets so jealous, since his mental state is already very broken. The very thought of his darling loving someone else or wanting to leave him for someone else? Its almost enough to get him spiraling, and it either leads to him having a horrible breakdown, or growing extra violent when he fights crime.

Kisses: How do they act around or with their darling?

Disgustingly doting and clingy. Hes always right behind you or touching you in some way. He absolutely craves your attention and validation, and will have a panic attack if you ignore him. But he also uses a lot of guilt tripping when he isn’t getting his way, or his darling it acting out.

Love letters: How would they go about courting or approaching their darling?

I imagine your relationship was actually pretty normal in the beginning, with you replacing Amber. As normal as a relationship dating a superhero is at least. So mark was kind of clumsy but so sweet and genuine. But then everything with angstrom happened, and he just kinda breaks.

Mask: Are their true colors drastically different from the way they act around everyone else?

Yes. Mark acts cooler and a lot more down to earth around people, suppressing the worse parts of himself. He wants to come across as a hero that everyone can look up too, which also means very few people know of your existence after you disappear.

Naughty: How would they punish their darling?

Mark doesn’t like to hurt his darling physically, but he isn’t above breaking bones. He will sob the entire time though, crying and yelling at you that this is your fault and hes only doing it because you gave him no other choice. But he prefers emotional punishment instead, like isolating you for long periods of time.

Oppression: How many rights would they take away from their darling?

He would try to keep as many rights for his darling as possible, not wanting to damage their way of life too much. But you would have no connection to the outside world, and you defiantly wouldn’t be able to leave wherever he keeps you. If you act up too much though, then he would have to start taking privileges away, and chaining you to the bed can also be one of those privileges.

Patience: How patient are they with their darling?

He tries to be patient. Mark knows it’s a big change for you, so of course you’re gonna act out and you’re gonna scream at him and try to fight back. But it also wears on him, making his frayed edges get worse, until he just can’t take it anymore and breaks down, which only adds onto all the guilt he’s been piling on you.

Quit: If their darling dies, leaves, or successfully escapes, would they ever be able to move on?

No way. If his darling dies, then Mark would spiral completely out of control. He would either isolate himself completely, or snap to the point where nolans acts look like a field trip. This depends on if his darling’s death was caused by someone else though. If you leave or escape, you bet your ass Mark is coming for you again. And the GDA would most likely help him, since they know the easiest way to control Mark is to let him keep you.

Regret: Would they ever feel guilty about abducting their darling? Would they ever let their darling go?

Mark would feel incredibly guilty and selfish for kidnapping you, but since he thinks it’s the right thing to do, then he would learn to cope with it. There is a chance you can get him to leave you go though, if you catch him at the right time when he’s most vulnerable, and if he thinks you truly love him in return. But this would be rare, and him coming back for you would be very likely.

Stigma: What brought about this side of them (childhood, curiosity, etc)?

All the loss and chaos he’s experienced since gaining his powers. The stuff Mark has experienced is enough to break the strongest of men, and with his mental state already being so fractured, the thought of losing you would be the last push he needed.

Tears: How do they feel about seeing their darling scream, cry, and/or isolate themselves?

Mark would feel so horrible about seeing his darling cry or scream, since he already feels guilty about kidnapping you. This is also why it would take him months or even longer to tell you he killed your entire family and all your loved ones, since he doesn’t want to see you cry more.

Unique: Would they do anything different from the classic yandere?

Theres so many flavours of yandere, that Marks acts would fit some type of yandere, so probably not. Maybe the fact that there is a small chance he would willingly let his darling go? Or the fact that he resorts to using his own guilt and tears to manipulate you.

Vice: What weakness can their darling exploit in order to escape?

Honestly just play along with his delusions, that yes Mark, this was the right idea and the world id dangerous. You love him too, and of course you’ll hold him and tell him he’s doing the right thing and being such a good hero. It wouldn’t be too hard to twist him around your finger, since he’s so starved for you and your attention. Escape would be pretty fucking hard though, since even the GDA wouldn’t help you.

Wit’s end: Would they ever hurt their darling?

Most of Mark hurting you would be accidental, if hes under a lot of stress or very wound up. But it isn’t above him to hurt you on purpose if he thinks there’s no other choice, like you trying to escape too much, or trying to attack him.

Xoanon: How much would they revere or worship their darling? To what length would they go to win their darling over?

Mark would worship the very ground you walked on and would see you as the center of his universe. This is also why the GDA wouldn’t do anything, since Mark sees you as his everything, and you are human and live on earth, then he wouldn’t turn against humanity. Mark would also bend over backwards to gain his darlings affection, whatever it takes, as long as it isn’t letting you free or anything like that.

Yearn: How long do they pine after their darling before they snap?

If you replaced Amber, then you two would have been dating for a while before he snaps, so he would have pined for around that time.

Zenith: Would they ever break their darling?

I don’t think he would do it on purpose, but it would come as a byproduct of his darling being isolated for so long that they just kinda break on their own. Or might be more his darling being slowly shaped into the same kind of stuff that Mark is made out of than outright breaking, since Mark still loves you for who you are. This is where he’s different from his dad.

[cokou]

hello dear cokou! could you possible write a Law/strawhat!reader during their time at punk hazard. Law gravitates towards them since they aren’t as rowdy as the rest of the crew. i’m sorry if i didn’t articulate myself well, english isnt my first language.

Note ✉* ~ I LOVEE THIS REQUEST ANON, thank you so so much for requesting♥️ Also most of this contains some spoilers and non-spoils lelll! || Do not translate, transfer, or reform, this is my only account (exp. Ao3), will not be cross posted anywhere. || 𖤐٭┆Masterlist

Summary* ~ Law thinks you're less of a nuisance to be a Strawhat. Warnings* ~ SPOILERS FOR PUNK HAZARD! Shit writing || Genre* ~ SFW

ᶜᵃʳᵉ ᶠᵒʳ ˢᵒᵐᵉ ᵐᵘˢᶦᶜ, ʳᵉᵃᵈᵉʳ?

It surely was one of the most unsurprising things your Captain's ever done. Without anyone's opinion at all, HE decided that Trafalgar, will set up an alliance with your crew. WITHOUT asking for negative reactions at all, of course it's a typical thing that usually happens all the time by the pirate crew.

Law implies that he would be helping around with the Straw Hats in order to complete his far goal. Not even an hour in with Luffy and the other Straw Hats, he already grew veins on his forehead that were about to pop from the annoyance he received from all of their bullshits.

Zoro and Sanji kept fighting, Nami was beating Luffy up, and Franky kept screaming 'super' while everyone was in the middle of a fight. Not even Robin could comprehend with whatever was happening, it was all so noisy for the love of God. The snow was was violently raining upon you guys and your coat was starting to not help at all. You distance yourself apart from everyone to get away from their abominations.

Law follows right behind you, slowly catching up with you.

"Are they always like this?" Law asks.

"They have always been, sorry about their stupid behaviours." You sigh whilst looking back to see how the fight was going, it was toning down, yet it was still loud.

"All i'm gonna ask is how you comprehend yourself with them all the time."

"I usually isolate myself from them when a fight breaks out, which is every single day. It's been a constant routine for me." You give him a laugh.

Law frowns at the thought of bearing with them every single day and shook his head in disapprovement. You two ended up eating the time avoiding the fight in utter silence, sometimes offering questions to each other to lessen the boredom and awkwardness of the time being.

The fight stops (suprisingly) after a huge snowball got flung onto them and crushing them like pancakes.

"Where did that snowball come from?!" You shrieked.

"Don't tell them it was me." Law smiles and you two laughed your asses about it.

Ever since then Law pretty much gravitates towards you whenever you all are about to go somewhere, it's not because he likes you (he does), it's simply because you're much more chiller and less loud than everyone from the crew. You had sticked with Law as he gives you the peace that you surely deserve.

Course— not everything simply comes to a happy ending, the Navy reaches Punk Hazard. Law was more than able to meet them as he exited Caesar's lab, he picked up a fight with Vice Admiral Smoker and managed to take his heart and exchange it with their captain, Tashigi. Afterwards, he left and met you, and the straw hats once again.

Law darts towards you, completely dodging Luffy's handshake, making Luffy feel dismay.

"I don't think attacking them was a good idea."

"Would you rather die than fight the navy?" Law skeptically asked.

"No way!" You chuckle.

Towards the whole day, you spent time looking at unfamiliar things that you havent seen before. You found an ice-like flower (no its not in one piece😢), and suprisingly found out that it was used to make a certain medicine, said Law. On the way to the mountains, Law and you, got into some 'little' chatters thinking that everyone was following.

"Where are they?!" You yelped.

"Maybe they got lost." Law sighs.

Correction, BOTH of you got lost. You two retraced your steps but was disappointed as the heavy snowfall refrained you two from going back to the same direction as the last time. You two were led into the big crater parting the burning lands and the ice lands.

"OOI! (Name)! Tra-guy!" Luffy waved at the opposite side of the crater.

"Luffy?? how did you guys get there?!" You screamed.

"We swam the crater!" Another correction, Zoro and Sanji swam them into the other side.

Law grabs your clothes and walked backwards to the direction you came from.

"I really don't wanna spend time with those idiots."

"You allied with us so you have to."

Law thinks so carefully that he thought an alliance with the straw hats would be a great idea, although it gave him lots of stress more, he'd be grateful someone with the same humor and interest with him was on the ship nonetheless. Because, he won't be able to take the stupid personalities of the men aboard of the straw hats. He's atleast happy that he gets to experience 99% of there stupidity with you. (You two aren't happy anymore)

Author's note ✉* ~ I really brainstormed on what to write here, I haven't reached rhis part of Punk Hazard yet😭😭 I can say this request was hard to make but i will 100% do all requests for my dear supporters! Love yall :'D.

©Cokou 2024, all works belong to me.

[golden-redhead]

One thing I will say about this season is that it really emphasized just how much Silco and his actions contributed to Jinx's issues and how much his presence affected her negatively going forward.

Most of all, though, I think it proved once for all that Vander and Powder had a special bond where he deeply cared for her and genuinely saw her as his own. Especially in season 1, I think a lot of the fandom latched onto this idea that his relationship with Powder was much more shallow than the one with Vi and as a consequence, she connected with Silco so strongly. But just because Vi and Vander were close and he acted as her mentor in many ways doesn't mean he didn't care about the others and didn't have his own connection with Powder. Just because we didn't see it doesn't mean he was neglectful or cared about her any less. He and Vi had a special bond, yes, but that's because they are similar. I also think that in some ways, he saw himself in Vi, just like Silco saw himself in Jinx. He wasn't a perfect father, he wasn't without flaws, but it's clear he did everything in his power to keep his kids safe and ensure a peaceful future for them.

Through their interactions this season and that alternate universum jumping, we found out that they both deeply cared about each other and Vander fully accepted Powder as his daughter. He clearly loved her a lot and she also saw him as a father figure in her life.

Moreover, even though alternate universe Powder also dealt with grief, this time over using Vi, it's clear that Vander was able to give her the support she needed. She didn't turn violent, she didn't struggle with constant hallucinations. She grew up to be smart, resourceful and compassionate. She grew up to be a healthier, stronger version of herself. Someone who's loved, appreciated and has her own place in the world. And all that even after facing the enormous loss that Vi's death must have been.

It speaks volumes about how much Silco projected his own trauma onto her and prevented her from ever realizing her full potential. I don't think he did it intentionally, I don't think he doomed her to be like this as a choice... He certainly loved her and in his own way wanted what's best for her.

But regardless of his intentions, that's still what happened.

Hurt people hurt people.

That's one thing that Arcane made blatantly clear.

[bringthekaos]

I'm excited for your thoughts on the new season if/when you share them

It has legit taken me 3 days to come to terms with Act 1. Enough to be able to speak about it. Gunna apologize in advance for the wall of text, and I’m hiding it under a break for spoiler reasons. Also prefacing with these are all just my opinions. All are free to disagree with me and RB with discussions/theories etc. just don’t be a dick about it, I’m not engaging in any discourse.

Ok. So. I have mixed feelings, and I’m aware that this is because I don’t have the whole story yet. So this is all contingent on how the rest of the season plays out.

First and foremost, I’m… wildly swinging back and forth between love and disappointment for Viktor’s arc. So first the negative, and I’ll try to keep it brief because a lot of people have already expressed this and I don’t need to be beating that particular dead horse.

Viktor has had his agency, his bodily autonomy, his original ideas and nearly everything that made him Viktor stripped away. Nothing so far has been his choice. And while this could have worked just fine for an original character, he wasn’t. So there is a massive disconnect between what this character was/should have been. In League, it was all his choice (albeit with a healthy dose of mental illness thrown in, but still). AND it was very heavily suggested that many of the augmentations he performed weren’t as extensive as he lead everyone to believe (namely the controlling/dousing of his emotions). But it appears that whatever the Hexcore did to him, it’s real. He is clearly having a difficult time accessing his emotions, and if he can feel anything, it is limited to the point of him being completely stoic. And the thing with stoic characters is that you obliterate any emotional payoff for the audience. It’s very hard to make an audience feel an emotional connection to a character’s story arc when they themselves don’t feel anything (I have a theory about this though, but I’ll address it a little later in this post). And then there is the issue of Blitzcrank. Blitz was Viktor’s whole world, after his exile. How are they going to swing that? Like, I’m not even asking for Blitz to be in Arcane (that would be great, but I really don’t think they have time). But I stg if they take Blitz away from Viktor, make them someone else’s invention (my suspicion is Heimer or he finds the idea in Sky’s journal)… I’m sorry but no. This was Viktor’s idea, Viktor’s genius. I will genuinely be extremely upset if they take that from him too.

Then there is the whole situation with Sky. First, this girl was fridged. She was nothing but a plot device and continues to be just that. It feels hollow and forced, especially now that he’s hallucinating her as some sort of penance for what he did. (I have seen the prevalent theory that it’s the Hexcore using her image and his guilt to manipulate him, given that it “ate” her, and we have seen it “manipulate” him before when it punished him for trying to destroy it). But back to Sky—he barely acknowledged that poor girl. The reason for that can be argued, whether it’s because he’s gay or because he was just so wrapped up in his one-track minded research. But regardless, there just wasn’t enough setup between those two for this whole thing to have as much weight and meaning as I think it’s supposed to. Honestly to me (TO ME) it reeks of comphet. It feels like that random woman they threw at Poe Dameron to No Homo him. I’m not even asking for Jayvik canon. But the creators were well aware of this ship, after all it’s the second most popular ship in this show and it’s been around since 2012 when Jayce was literally created for Viktor. I’m asking for the bare minimum here—that it’s left open-ended as it was in League, open for interpretation.

Last negative I have is the whole Viktor Jesus thing. The first problem is I am pretty violently agnostic, and messiah narratives have never spoken to me. I don’t enjoy them, they feel weak. The whole “ordained by a higher power” thing is just… stale. Especially when this character originally had no higher power, he gave it to himself through his own hard work and ingenuity. Honestly, Viktor’s original arc is about as far from a Jesus allegory as you can possibly get. And I am absolutely terrified that they’re going to end said Jesus arc the way you’d expect—with him dying for it. Which leaves the moral of his story “disabled man should have just accepted that he was going to die despite the fact that it was the oppression and xenophobia of Piltover that left him out to dry, without proper health care, accessibility, equality, or equity that lead to his terminal diagnosis to begin with.” Which is a very oppressor-centric narrative and we do not need another one of those.

Sorry, I know I said I’d keep the negatives brief, and that was… not. My bad. But moving on!

I’m not saying I didn’t enjoy it, I did. I am working to embrace this new Viktor narrative and work it into my brain in a way that doesn’t ruin the ship for me. So without further ado, the positives.

Jayce.

Jayce.

Jayce.

I’d have to go back and time it, but it feels like he got more screen time in this first act than the entirety of the first season combined, and his character shined for it. It humanized him in ways season one never did. He’s caring, he’s devoted, and he loved Viktor! No matter what kind of love you think it is, it proves he loved Viktor without a doubt. He carried Viktor several city blocks to the lab to save him, and then YES, he broke his promise about the Hexcore because he couldn’t stand the thought of losing him!

And he’s funny! (The scene where he picks up the regular sized hammer in the fight against Renni and made that “this is ironic” face?? And then basically the entire interaction with Ekko? The hand me a tome thing, and then when he basically pulled this when Ekko suggested “so this is all your fault cuz you pissed off the Arcane”:

GOD that shit was great. Jayce’s personality just shined, and maybe it’s too much to hope, but maybe this will douse a little of the hate. Because instead of being a subtle hint at all of those things being true about him, it’s now overt. And when people lack media literacy, the hints have to be overt.

And th-the. The h. The HUG SCENE. I don’t think I will ever emotionally recover from that scene. Starting with Viktor who, despite being clearly emotionally—I dunno, vacant I guess—sounded so lost and scared when he said “what am I?” For me, it was whispers of that scene from The Last Unicorn: “what have you done to me?” And my poor sweet Jayce, who clearly hasn’t left this damn lab except to go to Cassandra’s memorial. Sleeping on the desk and bleeding through his bandages because he doesn’t want to spend a moment away from Viktor while he “recovers.” And his euphoric response when he finds Viktor alive, when he realizes he hasn’t lost him. And I OWE HIM AN APOLOGY, goddamn. I said in a post that “Jayce will not understand.” I thought that was how Arcane was gunna start the divorce. But Jayce genuinely did not care, as long as his lover friend was alive. And just… Jayce being so affectionate through this entire scene. The hug obviously, but also blurting things he thought he’d never get to say to Viktor—“I’m resigning from the council, my place was always here in the lab with you.”

And… the hug itself. I know we’re all analyzing it frame by goddamn frame, but I see exactly what everyone else sees—there is a moment where Viktor very subtly smiles. But it’s gone in an instant, and it turns bittersweet. LOOK AT HIM.

There is something there, it’s just buried. Deep beneath the surface. It seems to say “I want this, I have wanted this for so long.” But then he realizes something, something I don’t think we’re meant to understand yet. Maybe that he doesn’t feel anything about it anymore, and he recognizes that this should upset him and it doesn’t. Or perhaps it’s something more along the lines of “it’s too late.” Whatever it is, I think this is the exact moment he knows he has to walk away. Because he knows he’ll cave to the affection, he said it himself. (Which is another thing entirely. His voice changes when he says that. Something in him is reacting to that word. Maybe he’s fighting against it, or maybe he’s fighting to get it back. But something made him almost growl that word.)

Which leads me to my final thought (for this post anyway, cuz it’s turning into a novel); Viktor is still in there. He can still feel things, I just think they’re extremely muted by whatever the Hexcore did/continues to do to him, or he has to fight to express them. Because he also smiled at the hallucination of Sky after he “cured” Huck. And if he feels nothing, he wouldn’t have been “joyous” at the thought of her being proud of him, approving of the good things he’s trying to do in her memory. He wouldn’t crave that validation, that vindication from her. So I’m hopeful that we start to see this shell crack a little, especially if those visions of Sky are the Hexcore manipulating him through guilt. It will start to erode him, no matter how stoic he has become. And literally the only thing I’m clinging to is that Jayce will see this and try to pull him out. “He’s still in there and I have to save him.” And that maybe it’ll start to work.

[hoseoksluna]

MURK | myg ft. jjk

pairing: boyfriend!yoongi x oc (feat. jungkook)

genre: angst, smut

word count: 16.9k

summary: one encounter with jungkook heals you enough to mend your boyfriend's heart.

pinterest board: murk

warnings: anxiety attack, different forms of self-harm and self-sabotage, mental agony, mutual masturbation, toying with polyamory, foreshadowing the use of a sex toy, alcohol consumption, seduction, provocation, teasing, oc wears pretty lingerie, cuckold kink, guided female masturbation, dom/sub dynamics, nipple play, clit rubbing, ass play, oral sex (m. receiving), fingering, facial, cum eating

note: oh my god, this was supposed to have three parts, but it was getting way too long and i decided to prolong the series. i'm not gonna even mention how many parts this series is gonna have bc my characters surprise me every time i finish writing so... they're the boss of me. ANYWAYS, pls i am so proud of this work of mine and i can't wait for you all to read it. pls, spam my inbox anonymously! i need to hear your thoughts, so pretty please, let me know everything you're feeling, hating, expecting etc. i'm absolutely obsessed with oc, jk and yoongi. ALSO, let me know what team you are. team yoongi or team jk? i'll put a poll in the final part if i remember. hehe ENJOY READING ⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪

Sensing Yoongi’s emotions, the clouds pull in, shunning the sunlight and you feel it. You feel it, enormously. 

The wind becomes violent. Curtains of sheer gray slap against the windows, undulating with such might that you sense its urgency. You stare at it in deep thought, naked and barren—void of any dignity, void of any rightness of feelings. A hole of blackness takes form in the middle of your chest, where the memory of Yoongi exiting the room hastily plays on a loop and there’s a faint, feeble hand in you, one of that urgency, that reaches for him, while the other remains slack at your side, caressing your own skin, pacifying your selfishness, your hypnosis—dragging you away from the side you had unwittingly and so unrightfully chosen. 

And while you want to mend what you’ve caused in your relationship, the only side you want to take at the moment is your own. The defeat pains you still, but what aches even more is the feeble wish there wasn’t any defeat at all. Not on Yoongi’s face, not on yours. 

You don’t regret what you’ve done. You don’t want to regret anything anymore, which is why you’re still standing dressed in your femininity as Jungkook apprehensively rakes his hands through his hair on the bed. You care very little for it because a bigger part of you is concerned about the well-being of your boyfriend. You wonder what he’s up to downstairs. Is he pacing? Is he busying himself from the onrush of his negative emotions, not able to stand the sight of you? You’d run to him, but there’s a bigger matter at hand. You have to fix your mind first. You have to cleanse yourself of the mess and the chaos, sort out the darkness so the light pours in. 

The light that will guide you to make the right decisions at last. The light that will burst your ugliness to smithereens, smother you with its heat so the hypnosis won’t penetrate it again. The light that should, ultimately, help Yoongi, help your relationship—fix its face, soothe out the overbearing tension. 

You’re aware Jungkook put you under a spell, now that the wind and Yoongi’s coldness has sobered you up. Turned you against him. Made you forget about him. You give zero fucks about how he does it time and time again. What you will concentrate on in the present time is making sure it won’t happen again. How? You’ll figure it out. Somehow. 

You don’t want any of the males to regard you as of now—and you wish you were alone, you wish you could escape like Yoongi did. That thought leads you, conspicuously, to begin to understand the reason behind his actions, but you don’t allow it to unfold in you. Not yet. You turn around to look at Jungkook. 

Elbows propped on his thighs, he’s digging a hole into the hardwood floors with the blackness of his irises. A small mole kisses the side of his ribs, the only visible part of his body that is otherwise clouded in shadows. You take your eyes away from that sight, not trusting yourself, hating yourself for naturally looking at that intimate part of him. Upon the sound of your movement, Jungkook flicks his eyes towards your form. You dislike everything about his attentiveness to you with every fiber of the betrayal that your body has become. 

His face is squished in his hands. He doesn’t look at your bareness. Merely studies the emotions written on your face. Like the healer he is, you know he wants to find something, anything to latch himself onto. And while you once obsessed over this need of his to mend, to make right, you despise it now. In spite of it, while you swallow down your distaste for it, your hand yearns to pet him like the wounded puppy he is, because you know that the tumultuous darkness both men are facing is of your origin, of your doing.

You keep it clenched in a tight fist. 

You don’t want to touch him anymore. You don’t want to touch any of them. Don’t want to cause any more harm than you already have with your desires. 

Jungkook startles when you make your way towards your travel bag. You hide your breasts beneath your forearm, not wished to be seen, not wishing to be vulnerable like that. The feeling of your stickiness along the inner sides of your thighs makes you cringe, worsens your hatred, and tears begin to sting in your waterline when you unzip your bag and grab the first thing you see. Jungkook opens his mouth to say something, but for the last time you avert your gaze from him and bolt to his bathroom. At the sound of his heavy steps, you slam the door shut. 

He calls your name and it is only then, when you’re alone, that you let those bitter tears and whimpers emit out of you. The sound is hidden by each strike of his palm upon the wood and your hand flies to your mouth in effort to stifle your emotions, feeling undeserving of them, feeling wrong, ugly, not worthy of his damned attention—not worthy of anything. 

“Sweetheart,” Jungkook whines. The first pet name he ever called you. You let out a pained sound and he forces the door open with all his might. Even though you don’t want to, you let him see the state of you—clutching your wrinkled dress and panties, concealing the evidence of the pleasure he gave to your body, of your femininity that he had put under his spell. 

You step away from the threshold, slinking deeper into the shadows of the bathroom. He shouldn’t be here. He shouldn’t be looking at you with such solicitude and affection. His brows shouldn’t be knitted like that, those eyes bigger and rounded than they usually are, fists tight and clenched, veins thumping and thick. Yoongi should be standing in his place with the intention to heal. Not him. 

“Please, go away,” you whisper, hot tears pouring down your pallid cheeks. You’re ashamed of them because you know full well that at this point you should be doing anything but crying. You’ve gone through so much turmoil, mingled with the darkness to such great extent that you should be proud of your work. You wanted this at some point—you wanted to remain the opposite force with separate feelings. You wanted to be his, when you had no right to choose. 

Jungkook’s eyes glisten. You turn your back to him, unable to be a witness to his emotions. You can’t see that; you don’t deserve to and he shouldn’t be feeling like this. He should’ve long exited this disorder—

You sob louder, exhausted of your thoughts, exhausted of shoulds, of wrongness. Turn the shower on, aware of the traces of disobedience and pain on your backside and you want to hide, but you have nowhere to go to. 

Jungkook turns the main lights off, leaving only the soft flickering bulbs on by the mirror. Ever the healer who senses your emotions by some sixth sense that you hate. Dimness covers your shame. 

He takes away your dress and panties and you let him. Folds them neatly on his laundry hamper. You watch him treat your underwear with such gentleness that it hurts. A flashback of him ripping your thong and making your bum red fills your brain, causing your feelings to expand in your chest—so much that you think your body is too small to keep them in. You can’t breathe, your lungs don’t have enough space to stretch and you panic, taking small breaths that don’t appease your need for air. Not at all. 

You step into the shower, needing to get away. 

The hot water burns on the curves of your behind and you hiss, but it alleviates your hatred. You deem it is precisely what you deserve. Your hand turns the temperature higher, sobbing into the stream of water, lungs heaving with such heft and it is okay, for it camouflages your hypocrisy. That is, until Jungkook notices it. 

“Are you crazy?” he mutters in dismay, fixing the temperature, but you grip his wrist briefly, pushing it away. Don’t look at him. Only warn him this way, silently. His miffed sigh wafts into the mist rising along your form, diffusing into your hair that still carries the scent of the pond. You want to wash it all out. “It’s going to hurt more like this.” 

You scowl, cupping the water in your hands like a child. “I don’t care. Leave.” 

The outward pain of your body isn’t the problem here. It aggravates you how he doesn’t see it—how he can be so ignorant to the more important matter at hand. Yoongi left because of him and because of you, because of the single-minded pleasure between you both that had nothing to do with Yoongi. You might as well have been there alone with him—Yoongi being just a pair of helping hands. Redundant. 

Burning. Burning of eyes, burning of skin, burning ache of heart. 

Jungkook scoffs at your forwardness, dumbfounded. Has the audacity to follow the drop of water trickling down the small of your back. You splash him, willing him to go away, but he stays put. Unbuttons his cargos. Hooks his thumbs under the waistband of his boxers, ridding himself, and stepping into the shower with you, sliding the door shut. 

You whisk your eyes to him with as much ill-will as you’re able to muster and he seizes it, unafraid of it, backing you against the wall. Solemn mien, subdued and so soft amidst the hardness of his decisiveness. Small pearls of emotion are stained upon the wrinkles around the corners of his eyes, twinkling in the shadows in tandem with the ever persisting glint perched on top of his irises. “I told you to leave.” 

He doesn’t blink. “You splashed me,” he utters, lowly. Grips your waist and pushes you against the coolness of the tiles. It takes a hold of the burn and rips it away, relief flooding in its place and your features relax against your will. “See how it feels better?” 

It does, but you don’t give him the benefit of the doubt—you refuse to. Not when you deserve to rot for hurting your boyfriend enough to make him leave, not when it should be him standing here with you—

“Don’t punish yourself,” Jungkook whispers, fixing the temperature yet again, letting the mist disperse. Such a tender, velvety sound that reaches deep inside of you, even when you want to fight him, even when you think that punishing yourself is the least you can do, considering how despicable you’ve become. But then he dabs a small amount of body wash onto his palm, rubs it across your sternum and it nobbles the drift of your self-sabotage. 

You feel the snugness of his touch, the darkness thickening in you and you take a fright of it. 

You put a stop to it. 

Grasping his wrist, you blink through the unrelenting fragrance of cherries filling your nostrils. “Don’t touch me.”

Seeing the panic flitting over your damp eyes, he lets go, respecting your wish. Smears it on the broadness of his chest instead. “Alright, I won’t touch you.” 

You sigh a whiny, vulnerable breath of relief. The glint of his irises ripples as tears pool across them. He, too, blinks them away. Stills as a sculpture while watching the film of your emotions. For a mere moment. Your throat constricts. Time, then, resumes. 

Jungkook hands you the bottle. Silence suffuses the profound atmosphere as you lather yourself in the cherry aroma. Almost without touching your skin, he peels your hair away from your back, capacitating you to reach your shoulder. As if his hands, now that they’ve acknowledged themselves with your body, simply cannot keep their distance. You shoot him a look that forces him to drop his limb. Note that it trembles on its way down to his side; note the same trepidation beginning its course on your body. Your mouth rounds in yet another rush of emotions, but you don’t cry. 

You’re so tired. So tired of feeling. So tired of guilt, of shame, of getting up and falling again. 

You avoid your intimate parts, your breasts and your behind. You hold your body instead, arms wrapped around your ribcage in effort to put yourself back together. You don’t understand why he’s here, why he cares; why he thinks he has the right to touch you without your boyfriend being present, why he thinks the situation between you and Yoongi is something he needs to remedy. And why, ultimately, he thinks it’s right to be on your side, instead of Yoongi’s. 

He’s not your friend. He doesn’t know you. 

You look up at him to fire that question at him, but Jungkook clutches the shower head and, with lukewarm water, he cleanses you of the foam, the bubbles and the stickiness on your thighs that he never got to wipe clean because you had pushed him away earlier. And then it happens. 

He cleanses you of your dirtiness, of your hatred and of your tiredness, too. With the same shower head, the same lukewarm water. And you can’t explain how he does it, how your body lets him, how it willingly lets go until there’s nothing in you anymore. Just the cherry perfume and the hole in your chest with a murky cloud in the middle. You merely watch it dribble down your skin, plop onto the tiles on the floor, swimming around your feet and his. Dumbstruck. 

You feel like stomping on it, but you don’t have the energy. Figure it will drown in the small pool of water on its own, die a slow, painful death, before it trickles down the drain. 

You don’t know how it came about now that it’s gone and you can’t take your eyes off of him. All he did was rinse you off. And the ridiculousness of it all is that, the more Jungkook deepens your eye contact, the more you want it back. You want to be the one who purges you of it. Steal the magic from his hands and splatter it back on your skin, in place of the cherries. He can keep those. 

Why did he come? Why didn’t he go to Yoongi? 

And you ask him. “Why are you here?” 

He fishes for a bottle of shampoo. “Will you let me wash your hair?” 

You scowl up at him. “I asked you a question.” 

Stillness in his features. “So did I.” 

That damned stubbornness, so reminiscent of yours, of your muted, silent one, hidden within you. Fair enough. You search within yourself for any hint of protest. Find none—find it’s been washed away, find cherries and the heft of the cloud, no darkness, much to your dismay. You turn your back towards him. 

“Tilt your head back.” 

Thankful that he didn’t do it himself, you do as he says. Jungkook wets your hair and you feel the pond leaving you, your heart skipping over to latch onto it, adamant on not letting it leave, but alas—it disappears along with everything else. You wish your heart would trickle down the drain, too. You have no need for it, anyways. 

Jungkook’s touch on your hair is benign, careful as he rubs the shampoo on your scalp. You flutter your eyes shut, welcoming in, somehow, the massage that diminishes the intensity, which your thoughts are hurled at you with, as though he was the owner of them and he came home to make order. And they settle altogether to listen as he begins to speak. “It shattered my heart. To see both of you so broken because of me. I saw it at dinner at first. Then I saw it again today. It pains me. It pains me that it’s my fault.” 

Silence, hefty, strong silence. The principle of being seen by another pair of eyes; the principle of your agony being seen and understood, no longer obscured within your mind, within your heart. Jungkook didn’t just see you, he saw Yoongi, too. Saw through you both. Something about that, along with the work of his fingertips, mitigates the heaviness of your emptiness, of your cloud, but it doesn’t tear the misty body. Not yet. 

Your throat is dry. “Why are you here, then? Why aren’t you with Yoongi? He’s your friend.” 

He gently drags his palms across your length. “Because Yoongi deals with things like this on his own. He doesn’t need a friend when he goes through shit. He needs to be alone.” 

You don’t understand. Yoongi always needed you when his mental health was at stake. Needed you as he unraveled the entanglement of ropes of that darkness that had enveloped his mind by talking to you about it. Then, he would eat with you, fuck you and try again the next day. It would be a long process, but it would be something you’d go through together. There never was a time he’d walk that path alone. 

And then it hits you. 

That was before you. Before he met you, he meandered through that decaying meadow alone. Jungkook served in the military—he doesn’t know anything about the change that occurred. Doesn’t know that Yoongi gave up his isolation. 

And you tell him. Merely a hint of it. Figure it’s Yoongi’s story to tell and you don’t have the heart to snatch that opportunity away from him. 

Listening to your words, Jungkook slackens. You only hear the sound of the shower head being put back into its place that indicates his shock to you. You figure he wanted to rinse off the shampoo, but the information paralyzed his body. You turn around to see that bewilderment writing verses across his features. Tenderness, too. A tendril of liquid emotion swirling past his waterline. “I tried my best to make that happen when I could,” he utters and you don’t think he realizes he said it, eyes unfocused, fixed on the tile beside your arm. “You can’t imagine how difficult it was for him. To let you in.” 

You feel the same tenderness curling into your cloud. Your mouth rounds again. Touched, terribly touched. Gladness holds hands with that tenderness, gladness that he didn’t leave when you had told him to. Because if he had never stepped inside the shower, you wouldn’t have known. You wouldn’t have known the secret that changes everything. 

You yearn to see Yoongi. Yearn to hug him, hold him, to pour out your love into him. Think you’re ready now. Stable enough to satisfy your craving. And in the love that you feel for him, you sense the light swarming, begging to be seeped into him. 

You stand beneath the stream to rinse off the shampoo, the water blanketing your head, peace penetrating your skull, tidying up the mess in your mind. Hushing out your thoughts now that your negative feelings long slinked away. You’re a new person. Clean, purified. And while you find it hard to believe, all you want to do is truly run to Yoongi. 

You can’t let him venture back to that forlorn meadow, to the ghost of his isolation. You might have shown him the way, but you have the will to stop him—and that’s more than enough. 

The healer that Jungkook is… he did it again. He dismantled your attachment and now he fixed your mind. You don’t know from what source he had rooted out the light, but he gave it to you. He gave it to you when you needed it the most, without knowing a thing about it. 

Blindly, you hook a finger around his index in a gesture of thanks. You don’t want to look at his nakedness. Don’t want to be pulled into that energy again. It brings his attention to you and you want to weep. Differently now. You want to weep due to the fact he somehow, seemingly, knows because he cups himself. Due to the roundness of his eyes that you know, that still live under your skin—differently now, too. Due to the fact that you got to be acquainted with him, despite the ruckus and the pain it came with. 

And you hope, in all truthfulness, that you remain something along the lines of friends after this day is over. How else would you have gotten to this healing? 

You open your mouth to express your gratitude, but Jungkook speaks first. “Don’t look at my worm.” 

The laughter that dribbles out of your mouth is so lightweight, so full of breezy and summer-breathed relief that the tears, which were held in, do break through the confinement and roll down the apples of your cheeks. Different, different tears. 

Friends, yes, please. You beg the heavens. May they let him become your friend. 

Jungkook scrunches his nose, squeezing your finger, relief, too, washing over him. “Don’t cry, I swear it’s not small like this all the time. It gets bi—”

“Get me a towel, you dummy,” you say, softly, amidst your sputtering laughter, wiping your tears away. Jungkook smiles, the change of the atmosphere illuminating him from beneath, and he slides the door open, letting the slight cold air in. You turn off the water, focusing your eyes on the last ripples of water draining your negative emotions until they slip, entirely, away. 

Jungkook holds out a beige towel for you. Doesn’t wrap it around you; still respects your wish. Lets you take it from him and then he disappears into the bedroom, closing the door shut behind him. 

You used the alone time to doll yourself up for Yoongi. At least a little bit—you didn’t want to overdo it, amongst other things that you already had. 

Although you missed your favorite mango scent, the cherries didn’t seem so bad and you got accustomed to it fairly quickly as you swiped a tiny bit of your cream blush along your cheeks, where you’ve let your relieved tears dry. You smeared the same tint of soft red upon the puffiness of your lips, connecting it to the perfume, connecting it to the healing that sank lower and lower in your gut. And you sealed it into the entwistment of your braid—sealed it fully.

You won’t let it leave you. Not this time; not again. 

By the time your feet pad down the wooden stairs, you discover what Yoongi was up to in his absence. Three plates of ramen are prepared on the dinner table, gone cold by now, along with utensils and opened cans of fizzy drinks. The sight lids your eyes with tears, but you stifle them, blink them away. You thought he wanted to forget you, when in reality he had you in mind the whole time. And not just you, but your culprit as well—and he cooked him food. 

A sudden roar forces your head to whisk towards the balcony. And your heartbeat quickens. You don’t feel your legs as you speed outside. 

Yoongi sits on top of the stairs, a cigarette in hand, torso twisted, facing Jungkook, whose shoulders sag in consternation, palms open towards him. He makes a move to his side, but Yoongi raises a limb to stop him. Looks at you for a moment. At your wet hair, at the same state of Jungkook’s. Your heart lodges in your throat—

“Get away from me,” Yoongi mutters, taking a long drag from his cigarette, and you don’t feel anything at all. Not your legs trembling, threatening to drop to the ground. Not the standstill of your bloodstream. You’re struck, unable to speak, to think. Yoongi rises to his feet and points his busy fingers at you. “Did you enjoy your shower?” he spits the venom in your face, ruining your makeup that you diligently put on for him—your tears flow, mingling with it, hot to the touch. “Did you enjoy fucking him?”

You gasp. “No, Yoongi, I didn’t—”

Yoongi’s own tears pool in his clouded eyes. You’ve never seen them before and they break you, tear apart the cloud in you. “You didn’t what, honey?” he croaks out. Repeats the question. 

Your sobs ache, but you don’t care. You take a step towards him, reach out your hand like you should’ve done earlier before he left and he takes it. The light that spills out from your chest radiates him, radiates him enough that he gives you the chance to explain yourself, to redeem his heart and you’re willing to do anything for it. His palm is cold, more cold than it’s ever been and Yoongi squeezes you, as if to beg you to undo the gashes upon his heart. Jungkook looks at the intertwinement for a mere second and you refuse to note the sliver of pain whirling past his eyes. Not this time; not again—this is about you and Yoongi. And you’re glad when he leaves. You don’t watch him go. 

“I didn’t have sex with him,” you whisper, the only way you could keep your voice still, your tears soaking the neckline of your lacy dress. You will your healing not to quiver, but to remain strong, remain unbreakable. “I swear on my life that I didn’t.” 

The same drops of pain pour down his face and you can’t bear it. You bury your face into his clothed chest, bunching the material of his T-shirt in your fists, needing him to believe you, needing him—

“You took a shower with him,” he breathes in pure disbelief. You feel it palpitate in his heart that your forehead is pressed against. This time, you understand right away how wrong that was—that showers are something that belongs to you and him, your shared rose garden of some sort that they could become, even though you were too smothered by the darkness to realize it fully in the moment.

You halt the shame creeping in. The guilt, the wisps of darkness. You’ve healed, and it shall stay that way. No more. 

“I took a shower alone.” The wind nips at you and it is like a slash of a whip on your back. “He came in—”

Yoongi sucks in a breath. Lets his cigarette fall to the floor of the veranda. With his lips pursed and like a bolt of lightning you can’t keep in your hands, he rips himself out of your hold and lopes inside the cabin with heavy, wrathful steps. 

And you can’t stop it—the colliding of Yoongi’s fist on Jungkook’s cheekbone. 

You yelp, grabbing a hold of the fabric of Yoongi’s T-shirt to pull him back, your sight blurred enough that you can’t see. You can’t see properly the way Yoongi doesn’t let Jungkook fall to the floor, but instead grabs him by the collar and fumes in his face. Your sobs choke you and you press yourself against his back, wrapping your arms around his torso, willing him to stop, begging him in your silent language. 

You feel the heavy, long thuds of his heart, the trembling lift and fall of his chest and you squeeze him tighter, weeping into the cloth of his garment, emitting liquid fear—fear of Yoongi receiving the same hit, fear of the darkness, much bigger one, enveloping all three of you. And you don’t have the time to blame yourself for causing this. Yoongi’s words stop you dead in your tracks. 

“You forced yourself on her?” he hisses, pushing him to and fro like the curtain billowing behind you. “Are you that fucking desperate for pussy that you forced yourself on my girl? Should I fucking kill you?” 

A momentary stillness. Your breath is loud. Louder than the hard huffs of air escaping the mouths of the two males. 

“Let go, hyung,” Jungkook croaks out, defeated. And you don’t know how the sound of it makes you feel. Perhaps, you’re feeling nothing, which is a good thing. You put your boyfriend first in your weak heart, his feelings, his well-being. Not Jungkook; not yourself. Even though your heart silently, painlessly cracks. 

“I asked you a question.” Yoongi’s wrath rises, absorbing the room, despite the fact his voice is deadly calm. You squeeze him harder. 

He did force himself into your personal space, but if he hadn’t, you wouldn’t have been healed. You wouldn’t be here, on your boyfriend’s side. And the thought of being the opposite force if he hadn’t done that, cradling his back instead of Yoongi’s terrifies you enough that you speak up—in need to fix the situation. 

“He didn’t, Yoongi. I promise,” you whimper, burying your face deeper into the middle between his shoulder blades. And there you feel his spine shake. You caress his stomach to soothe him, peppering kisses along that strong column. 

Yoongi punches him again. It reverberates throughout your whole body. You only hear the crash of Jungkook’s form onto the floor. 

“Only over my dead body will you lay a finger on her again,” Yoongi hisses and he twists his wrist to alleviate himself of the affliction scattering along his knuckles. “And what you’ve done to her, the pain you’ve caused her is something I will never forgive you for.” 

Stillness. Terrible, terrible stillness. The whip of the wind. A roar of an upcoming storm in the heavens far, far away. You don’t become it. You remain yourself. His girlfriend, defended. 

Yoongi turns around and cradles your face in his hands. Wet, worried eyes, begging you for something that you can’t pinpoint. Shiny, sniffling nose, suppressing his emotions. Red, regretful mouth, breathing out exasperated breaths. Quivering chin—quaint in the rawness of his expressed love towards you. You yearn to kiss him, you yearn to take him home, so terribly remorseful that you got him into this gut-wrenching mess. And you listen to your body, fulfill the only right decision you’ve come across since meeting his friend. 

“Let’s go home, baby,” you whisper, pecking him softly. Yoongi nods, wiping your tears away. Takes your hand and leads you towards the front door. 

Jungkook, now standing on his wobbly feet, bruised and bloodied, merely watches the pair of you. Sorrowful. And as you walk away from him, you clutch in your heart what he’s done for you. 

Yoongi hands you his car keys. “Wait in the car.” 

You nod and you go. Don’t stick around to see the unfolding of the storm. Don’t say goodbye. 

The rain pitter-patters on the roof of the car. You’re tired of it. You’re tired of the summer. Don’t find any beauty in it. Not even in the mountains and the trees. 

Yoongi hasn’t come back yet. 

Your stomach grumbles, but you don’t feel any hunger. You’ve nibbled on your bottom lip so much that rawness of blood is all that your teeth sink into. The same blood that, much like your darkened self-sabotage, trickled out of Jungkook’s nostril. It tastes bitter on your tongue. 

A ruthless carousel of scenarios spin in your mind and you’re tightly buckled in the seat of fear with no way out. The fear that, in your absence, Yoongi’s hit got reciprocated. The fear that the same blood you taste could, possibly, be on your own hands. 

You want to get away from here. Far, far away. 

When Yoongi emerges from the cabin, a thunder announces it. The only blood you detect is the dried one on his knuckles. The rain didn’t get to clean it and once he places the same hand upon the shivering coldness of your thigh, a decision perks up in you. A decision to not let anyone get in the way of mending and cleansing anymore.  

You shall be the one who does it now. Not the rain, not Jungkook. They’ve both done enough. 

And when you lift that wounded hand to your lips, you wish you could clean it with your tears—but you fear the salt would only pain him more. So you settle for your sighs of relief, for your gentle kisses and for the light in you to do the work. 

“No more tears, honey,” Yoongi murmurs, cupping your chin and pecking you. “It’s over now.” 

You drift to sleep during the ride home. 

And you sleep through the whole afternoon in an anguished effort to forget. Forget the blood, forget the sound of Jungkook’s body hitting the floor… forget yourself. 

You didn’t dream about anything at all. Only the darkness consumed you, a lullaby of nothingness. 

And when you awake, your feet groggily take you to Yoongi. They seem to know where he is, even when your eyelids are still half-closed, even when your brain still dozes. A canopy of dusky, darkening heavens, with hues of roses dispersed all around, gently fondles your eyes to rouse them fully and right here, on the balcony, much different to the one you spent your afternoon on—much smaller, much more confined—is where you find your boyfriend. An empty pack of cigarettes on the table, a cold purple lighter and a dark bottle of liquor.

His strained back greets you first. He doesn’t hear your steps; he doesn’t sense your presence and it isn’t until your fingertips touch his saddened spine that he turns around. Wrinkles of the same dejected nature, absolute despair wrung into the paleness of his face. You cradle it and you bolster it when he spills into your hands, when you feel the hotness of his tears. And you spill with him—the only thing left to do. 

You will your light to swathe him. Press his head against your chest as you lead him to take a seat with you on his lap. And you keep your mouth tightly shut when the soreness of your muscles, the slight discomfort of the burn on your skin forces a whine out of you. You keep it caged in. Put your boyfriend first. 

Sifting your fingers through his hair, you kiss his scalp—kiss his mind, even when you don’t know its contents. To ease it, whatever it was that caused him to break. 

You sit like this until the moon springs from the clouds. You don’t look at it. Refuse to. 

It’s Yoongi who speaks first, cold fingers sunk beneath your thighs, seeking your warmth. 

“Tell me everything from the beginning,” he murmurs, weary eyes boring into yours. “I need to hear it from you.” 

You’d give him anything he asked, anything he wished for; you’d pierce your heart if the time asked for it. And so you nod, place your hand on his chest, lie against his good shoulder and you begin to leak. Leak the simplest of words you’re able to find in your windswept mind. 

“He put me in a trance when we were intimate. So much that I lost my mind, lost my surroundings, lost my sense of home.” You swallow, dryly, thinking that’s the best way you could explain it without deepening the gashes upon his heart. Decide you will not overdo it. “And when you left and I breathed in the fresh air, it was like I’d woken up from it. It hurt so much. I was worried about you, but I wasn’t ready to face you. Not when I had to deal with the repercussions.” 

Yoongi squeezes the flesh of your thigh to comfort you, thumb fondling the skin back and forth, listening intently. 

“I didn’t understand at first why you left. I was so out of it. But little pieces started to put it together in my mind as I was thinking about it. And then I saw Jungkook with his head in his hands and I knew I’d done something really, really bad. I wanted to run away, like you did, but I had no other place to go to other than the bathroom. And Jungkook…” you trail off, taking a deep breath, preparing yourself mentally for this part of the story—the thread that is linked to the bruises upon Yoongi’s knuckles. “I thought he wanted to comfort me, and maybe he did. I pushed him away but he relented. He was concerned because I—” A lump forms in your throat, your lashes quiver. “I made sure the water was boiling hot because I wanted to burn off—I wanted to punish myself for making you leave, for hurting you. And then he got in the shower and I didn’t say anything.” 

You pause for a moment, thinking about how you’re supposed to mention the matter of the burn of your backside and his concern regarding it without wounding Yoongi. 

“He—” Your throat constricts and Yoongi cradles your face in his palm, lifting your head so you can gaze into his eyes, draw strength from him. He nods, encouraging you to continue, while seemingly giving you as much time as you need. Tears the lump apart. “He was worried because the hot water was making the burn on my butt worse, but I—I didn’t feel it. I was crying so hard.” 

His eyes search for something in yours and you know right away what it is. The answer to his question on whether he touched you. You wrap your arm around his neck. Glad it didn’t wound him. Enough that you overbrim with the desire to assuage his disquiet. 

“He didn’t touch me,” you whisper, although it’s not entirely true. Cold sweat dribbles down your spine. “Not in the way you think. I told him to stop. He wanted to wash me. I told him no.” 

He blinks, but you can’t read his solemn features. You see the memory of Jungkook gripping your waist and pushing you against the tiles, so you wouldn’t burn your skin, and you saying nothing displayed on them. It overwhelms you, but you fight it. What’s done is done.  

The worst part of the story awaits you. You pluck it, ready to get it over with. 

“All he did was rinse me off. And he told me about how it hurt him to see us like this because of him. I felt everything leaving me when I was listening to him. I don’t know how, but I did. He asked to wash my hair and I let him. I felt so relieved to be ridded of the guilt and the pain I felt that I started crying again. He made me laugh. And then he left me alone. I don’t know what would’ve happened to me if he hadn’t been there.” 

Stillness, awfully quiet stillness—like the one at the cabin, but you do not fear it. An abrupt onrush of strength fills your bones, giving you the notion that whatever comes next is something you’ll be able to endure. 

Yoongi drops his hand. You will your heart not to drop along with it. 

“The lines have been blurred so much that I—” He averts his gaze. Towards the glimmering stars up above as if they could give him the strength he’s now void of. “I don’t know if it’s fair for me to feel the way I do, when—when I let him have you.” 

You are able to endure it. A motherly stimulus creeps in, one that has the capacity for the mightiness of whatever it is that he’s feeling. You want to swallow it down. You desire to. 

“What do you feel, baby?” you whisper, nudging your nose against his, an Eskimo kiss to relieve him, to help him. “Tell me.” 

Yoongi narrows his eyes in regret. “It should’ve been me,” he breathes. You nod, agreeing with him, even though you’ve accepted that fate wrote it was meant to be Jungkook. Perhaps for that very reason, he was inscribed to be pulled into that whole situation to begin with, no matter how lewd it was. “And it should’ve been me under that—”

He doesn’t let himself finish his sentence, but you know what he wanted to say. It brings tears to your eyes, the fact that he hated what you had done to yourself and instead wished it was him—to whom the harm was done. 

You let them pour out. You don’t want them smothering you. You want everything out, so you can move on—so both of you can. 

“It’s okay,” you whisper. Another Eskimo kiss, a longer one this time. Yoongi sniffles against you and you want to pull out more from him, to rid him completely of those negative feelings. “Like you said, it’s over now.” 

Yoongi nods, vulnerably, and you peck him on the mouth. And he’s unable to reciprocate the kiss, for his features twist in another rush of liquid emotions. You stroke the back of his hair, running your fingers down its length, urging softly more out. 

“I don’t regret anything,” you continue, pressing your cheek against his tears, letting them seep into your skin. “Even though it hurt, I don’t regret it, Yoongi. Neither should you.” 

He sobs and it reverberates through your body. You remain strong. Strong like the mountains. “I hurt him.” 

The breath you inhale is knifing you sharply. “He loves you—”

“And I hurt him,” he cuts in, squeezing you against him, needing you. “I didn’t trust a word he said. I didn’t—” he heaves, unable to catch his breath, hiccups. “Because I thought he hurt you, I didn’t hear him out. I didn’t know he helped you.” 

“What did he tell you?”

“He told me he didn’t force himself on you, but I didn’t believe him. I gave him so much shit for it, for spanking you. And then he begged me to hit him again.” 

The healer deemed it would make Yoongi feel better. Your heart warps. 

“Did you?” 

“No.” 

You kiss his temple and you don’t realize that it’s a silent thanks until you lift your lips, however you’re not thrown off balance. It should be like this. You should feel for both men. You should feel. It makes you a living, breathing human. And Yoongi’s reactions and emotions make him human, too, even if they seem wrong in the moment. It’s not something to hate him or judge him for—it’s something to love him for. He should feel safe. Deserves to. 

It’s better than to feel nothing. 

And you tell him. A thousand times until he nods, sloshing your words in his mouth before carefully swallowing them, accepting them. 

“It’s not a lost cause. You can talk to him. And you can try again.” 

Yoongi looks at you as he takes in what you’ve said, as if the concept never crossed his mind—or, if it did, it perhaps seemed too unrealistic to make happen. As if he was doomed for life. As if he lost him forever. 

Love is never lost. And you tell him that as well. 

Yoongi lights up from within. You wipe away his tears. Brush his hair away from his face. And you give him every last drop of your light, hugging him. And he hugs you back until birds begin to sing in the sky. 

It took several weeks for Yoongi to gather courage to call Jungkook. Liquor bottles piled in a row on the balcony and you didn’t count them anymore, you just joined your boyfriend, who had become a frail skeleton, whenever his nerves asked for the burning liquid. Either you would keep him company or you’d bring your own shot glass. And each time, it would end with a subdued, murky therapy session, without the fucking. 

Yoongi hasn’t touched you since the afternoon spent in the cabin. 

He wasn’t in the mood and you stifled yours. Your body was so accustomed to the daily release of pleasure that because it didn’t have it now all of a sudden, it felt weird—it felt out of place, and you drowned it out with alcohol and smokes, drowned it out with shopping sprees until money ran out and stashes became empty. So you had to settle for your own hand. 

And it was easy. You daydreamed about Jungkook. Felt the ghost of his fingers on every sensitive place your hand roamed. On your breast, on your thigh and on your clit, in your entrance. You replayed everything he’d done to you and it didn’t hurt; you didn’t feel shame. You’ve healed to the point that it drenched you, aroused you enough to coax your orgasm out in mere minutes.

And it didn’t feel shameful because Yoongi had told you the reason why he fled the scene. 

“You were in pain and I couldn’t stand it. You wouldn’t look at me and if you did, you’d look away as if I had no role in the sex. He took control when it should’ve been me. And I didn’t do anything to stop it.” 

It wasn’t about you being so preoccupied in the trance. It was about Jungkook taking charge as if you were his. Which was what led Yoongi to think he forced himself on you in the shower. It was about him being silent and not speaking up, prioritizing your pleasure. 

It made sense to you, but you still apologized. For what, you didn’t know. Just felt the need to. And Yoongi made you feel so safe, as safe as you had made him feel that night on the balcony, that you couldn’t help but yap about how enjoyable it was for you—what Jungkook did to you. And Yoongi agreed. 

You were content that you’ve moved past the hurt and focused on the real truth beneath, revealing it: you both had enjoyed it when you were pleasured. 

You didn’t check if the conversation made him hard, for you ran into your bedroom to relieve yourself of the ache between your legs as fast as possible. But he found you. Watched you. Validated you. Validated your daydreams. Told you what to do as he smoked a cigarette, standing in between your outstretched legs before the bed, the summer wind cooling the sweat on your body. And then he told you to do it again. 

And again. 

Until he couldn’t pull out any more orgasms out of you. 

He became obsessed with it. 

Because the next day and the many after that, you did the same thing. He would watch you while you fingered yourself. He’d tell you what he’s doing to you in your daydreams, taking charge of them, what Jungkook is doing to you. Other times he’d jerk off and come all over your tummy and cunt. Still remain hard; still remain needy. He wouldn’t fuck you. Couldn’t. Wouldn’t even insulate it. Wouldn’t slip it inside the dreams. And once his desire would run out of its sweet wine, yours simply wouldn’t. And the more you both indulged in this act, you figured out two things. 

One, Yoongi used it as a coping mechanism. As a healing tool to recuperate from the afternoon spent in the cabin, one that would ultimately help him have sex with you in the long run. Two, you were riding the waves of ideas and excitement with no real fulfillment, with no release. 

Tasting the picture of the sin at first might have been enough—but the more you did it, the more you wanted to sink your teeth into the real thing. 

You wanted Jungkook again. 

And like the intelligent man Yoongi is, he figured it out, too. 

A certain number of orgasms was an indication of an ending to this playful time. And the last time you did this, Yoongi—at this number—was ready to withdraw and jump into the shower, but you grabbed his arm and pulled him back. Hungry, starved, devouring his neck, grinding your still wet pussy against his softening cock. 

He put two and two together. Immediately.

“You’re hungry for what I haven’t given you yet, aren’t you?” 

You begged for it, moaning against his artery, reveling in the feeling of his cock against you after such a long time. And when you looked at him, you saw drunkenness seizing his features. Drunkenness without the consumption of alcohol. And you felt the same inebriation enclosing around yours, knowing your desire sparked this inside of him. It felt different. Way, way different. 

“Think about how you want it. Make yourself come as many times as you want. And when I come back from the shower, tell me about it. We’ll figure it out; we’ll make it work.” 

It grazed your hunger. Squeezed it in such a playful way. Like a human hand squeezing an animal because of the cute-aggression it feels towards it. 

You didn’t know how many times you came. You were too lost in the story you constructed, soaking the bed sheets even more than you already had. Your fingers had turned wrinkly by the time you opened your eyes, finished with the plot, to see Yoongi leaning against the doorway to the bedroom, not having the heart to disturb you in your passion. 

And while you showered, playing the story in your head over and over, Yoongi cooked you food. Poured you liquid courage. Waited for you at the table, dressed only in a pair of joggers. Chain-smoked, the rule of only smoking on the balcony long forgotten during his process of healing. 

When you sat down to eat, you slid your feet across his lap. Lifted your camisole, let him see your bare cunt the way he liked it that one time; the scent of your mango body butter wafting in the air, the sultriness of an August evening carrying that eccentricness right into his senses, readying him for what you were about to tell him. 

And you began, casually, with every bite of the delicious food he made you. You got ahead of yourself, though, dumb by the intensity of adrenaline and arousal coursing in your veins. “I want you to dictate every move. And it’s up to you if you let him fuck me or not. My first idea from the start was—”

“I want you to tell me your full fantasy. What you touched yourself to. From the beginning ‘til the end.” 

You fixed your mistake quickly. 

“I dreamed about him watching us. You gave him rules. No touching. Hands on the armchair I wanted him to sit in. No talking. Then, I began with you letting him see what we’ve been doing. Loudly, vulgarly. Me playing with my pussy while you jerked off until you came all over me. Then you ate me out and wouldn’t stop until I begged you to fuck me. From behind. While you stretched my ass with a butt plug.” 

“Did I talk? Like I do normally?” 

“Yes. He heard it all. Every word you used. And I wanted you to do it to make him needy. Needy enough to beg you to let him fuck me.” 

Yoongi only cursed. And you felt him hardening again under the soles of your feet. You caressed his ache with your toes.

“He thought the butt plug was used to stretch me for him, but it was for my pleasure, for decoration. You only let him pump your cum deeper into me. You didn’t let him come. And you held me from behind. Held me open for him in the air. And then he begged you for mercy. You gave in. Dropped me to the floor. And he fucked me ruthlessly, keeping me still on the floor with his thighs around me. He wasn’t able to last long. Begged you to let him come in me and you did. And then… then he ate me out. And so did you. At the same time. And I came so hard that I squirted. Then we took a shower. All three of us.” 

“Did anything happen in the shower?” Quick, hard breaths, as if he was on the verge of an orgasm from your footjob. 

And he proved to you, with a groan, that he was when you finished your story and his joggers dampened. “No, you both just held me. And we kissed like crazy.” 

And it was this release of cum that drove him to make that phone call. 

When Jungkook picks up on the first ring, Yoongi grabs his keys, blows you an air kiss and leaves. The joy that thrums in your heart is unlike any you’ve ever felt. You know where he’s gone. You know it fully well. 

And in the meantime, you doll yourself up. 

Hours later, he returns. With a grin blossomed on his face, one you haven’t seen since the day at the cabin, and a pink bag in his hand, one he hands you as soon as he takes off his shoes. 

Inside you find the butt plug you dreamed of. Silver with a purple faux diamond in the middle. Fairly small, just the kind you’re certain you will be able to take. With a freebie of a much smaller packet of lube. To be safe playing out the fantasy. 

Yoongi kisses you so hard when you look up at him that he steals all of your breath, ridding you of your chance to thank him. 

“He’s coming over later.” 

You kiss him, equally hard. Happy that he’s happy, happy to see movement in his healing journey. You give him tiny kisses, a hundred of them, and he breathes a laugh into your mouth, his joy filling you with energy and exhilaration. Finally, finally, finally—you’ve missed this emotion of his. Glad for the sadness, for the murkiness to be gone. 

And you pray nothing gets in the way. 

When Jungkook announces his arrival by knocking on the door, the sight you’re met with is quite uncanny. Though your heart isn’t stirred by it, bouncing in your chest like a small child seeing its father after a long, long time. 

It’s been almost a month and he’s become older since the last time you saw him. His hair, grown longer and thicker, curls at his temples, ears and the nape of his neck. Round eyes have stayed the same, as well as the glint, and there’s a hint of the same joy that you’ve found in Yoongi, whirling in circles past it. Nose void of any blood, cheekbone healed from bruises. His demeanor is careful as if he had been punished enough by the fight and the silent treatment that followed it, taking off his shoes and his zipper hoodie, revealing a much bigger broadness of shoulders and arms, exposed in a tight fit of a black tank. 

While Yoongi drowned his sorrow in alcohol and smokes and then came across his relief, his air in a sexual fantasy with his friend involved, he—the said friend—clearly found his coping mechanism in the gym. 

He’s huge. As if he hadn’t already been from the military. 

You lick your lips at him, and it’s such a natural reaction that you don’t even think about what you’ve done until you perceive that he doesn’t look at you at all. And it turns you on. It turns you on that he’s holding himself back from you. You know what hides beneath, what comes out when he lets go of his good boy persona.  

Glancing at Yoongi, he’s already smirking at you with a playful gaze. Affected by his ignoring of you just the same. The shared connection thickens the energy around, but Jungkook breaks it. 

He breaks it once he lifts his head, hangs his hoodie on the back of a chair and envelops you in a hug. Defaces your evident tendency to view him as an object, scribbles it in slashes until the ink runs out. All by a few strokes of his hand down your hair, down your back clothed in a new silky robe. 

And when he withdraws from the hug, you see the healer that helped you become the person Yoongi needed on his journey. 

His somber eyes skim over the long length of your nighttime attire, as if lamenting over the fact it’s not the red one. Over its dusty-pink color that parts the fabric to reveal your smooth leg and your toes. And then he’s gone, pulling your boyfriend in the same hug that lasts a bit longer, uttering silent words that should’ve been said that afternoon at the cabin with each increase of squeezes and pats within the hold. 

You know they’ve said what they needed to hear during the phone call to mend what’s been broken. You feel a certain proudness of Yoongi for managing so well, for being at this very part of the journey. It’s praiseworthy. 

“You hungry?” 

Jungkook looks at you at last, imaginary puppy ears perking up at your question. And his eyes soften, wet with emotion from the reunion. He rubs his belly. “Starving.” 

You shuffle your feet to make your way into the kitchen, but Yoongi beats you to it. Wave a hand towards the table, inviting him to sit and, out of habit, you pour some liquid courage into a shot glass for him from the bottle you keep there instead of a vase filled with flowers. 

He merely glances at it. Doesn’t drink it. 

“How have you been?” you ask, screwing the lid back on, not being able to take your eyes off of him—your entire history faintly blanketing your sight. 

And he deepens the eye contact. 

“How do you like your butt plug?” 

Taken aback, you laugh, the atmosphere so airy all of a sudden that your cheeks flush and your lungs heave with affability. This is the friendship you had begged the heavens for. Without strings, without pain. Light-natured friendship, with flirtation in the middle. You find it hard to believe you have it. Find it hard to believe he’s here. 

Find it hard to believe that when you had told Yoongi he could try again, he took your words and created this, embedding it into your fate. 

“It’s pretty,” you say, grinning so wide your cheeks hurt. Jungkook smiles, fondly, fingers wrapping around the shot. You’re reminded, momentarily, of the way he teased you with the foot of his wine glass on your first dinner date. 

As if thinking about that night, too, his other fingers sneak to your bare knee, tapping it once. “We picked it for you.” 

You nod in feigned, exaggerated gratitude, even though you mean it, even though the thought of them choosing a sex toy for you makes you burst into flames from within. “Thank you, Oppa. Thank you so much. I will use it well.” And you bow to him with each word in your seat next to him.

Jungkook laughs and it’s such a sweet sound that you feel unfamiliar flowers growing in you, laughing along with him. He lays his palm flat on the entirety of your knee. Heavy, strong, warm. Then, he widens his eyes, as if he only now realized what you’ve called him. “You’re younger than me?” 

You’ve guessed he was older than you. “I was born in 1999. I take it you’re around the same age as Yoongi?” 

Not the same, entirely. You recall him calling Yoongi ‘hyung’. He must be a year or a few years younger. 

That tenderness you know flashes in his face. “I was born in 1997. Yoongi is older than me.” 

Your mouth opens in the shape of ‘O’. Jungkook’s eyes flick to it before he averts them, slapping the side of your thigh gently, sighing as if he held his breath the entire time. Only then does he down the shot you poured him, keeping his hand there. 

Such a blessing, the simple act of getting to know him. 

He slouches in his seat and you ask him again. “How have you been?”

Smacking his mouth, he roams his gaze along the perimeters of the dinner table. And you realize he’s avoiding the question. Avoided it the first time you launched it at him, too. 

You fold your fingers under his palm on your knee, signaling your understanding and sympathy. Don’t want to think about the healing journey he had to walk through by himself. He’s reached the end and that’s the most important thing as of now. You caress his reddened, tattooed knuckles, smeared with flecks of violet and yellow—much like your bum that one afternoon—with your thumb, wondering how that tinge came to live there. “What happened to your hand?” 

Jungkook contemplates your study of his hand, stoically, still as ever. Then, his mouth rounds, barely, in a tiny suggestion of sadness. Your heart catches it before it disappears, making it hers. In such a swift moment that you don’t realize what you’ve done. 

“Boxing,” he murmurs, eyeing the way your hand is enclosed around his large palm, the way your thumb hovers over his knuckles, as if afraid to cause them any more pain. Seems touched by it and your brows knit, your heart speaking to you, telling you something, urgently, but you don’t understand her. 

“You don’t wear boxing gloves?” 

Jungkook shakes his head ‘no’. “Didn’t want to.” 

And then it hits you—the language of your heart unfolding within you, deciphered at last. It hits you how you and him are very much alike. 

This is his coping mechanism. Hurting his hand as he lets out his negative emotions. Knowing, just like you, that the pain is the gain, the relief. And by the state of the bruises, you were wrong. He’s not at the end of his healing journey—and he’s nowhere near the beginning. He traipses around it, steering clear of it, ignoring it. 

Your lungs swell. And that motherly impulse you’re familiar with croons around them, extends towards him with the dutiful intention to heal. 

And you will. 

You will heal both of the males. 

And the decision is strengthened even more in you when Jungkook hears Yoongi’s footsteps and startles, extracting his hand from your hold, from your thigh. Like he startled upon hearing your movement back then, scurrying towards your bag as if you were intending to leave him, abandon him. 

It is your heart that weeps now for him, not your eyes, remembering the words Yoongi uttered over his bruised cheek and bloody nose. Only over my dead body will you lay a finger on her again. You try your hardest to remain strong on the outside. For him, for Yoongi, for yourself. You try your hardest to forget that declaration, that physical pain of his, considering it over—long gone, a lifetime away. 

And when your boyfriend sets the full plates of food in front of him and he digs in wordlessly, you watch him. With a landslide in your insides. With a hand on his muscled arm, stroking back and forth, eyes flicked momentarily to Yoongi, willing him to see how broken his friend is. 

But Yoongi can’t bear to see it. 

He settles for a drink instead, fixing his gaze on the table. Takes a step back on his journey, his nerves pursuing him. And so he’s not alone, because it is your duty, you follow him into that rabbit hole like the Alice you are. With empty hands, void of any control, despite the onus you own in your heart. 

By the time sex is even mentioned between the three of you, you’re tipsy and your head is swimming. 

You’re conscious, aware of your body, aware of your surroundings and your home. Aware that you’re intoxicated, too, and it’s a peculiar feeling—to be present in your body and out of it just the same. And you owe it to the males sitting around the table. To the owner of the house, mainly. 

Yoongi has taken such a dominant role naturally that he’s the reason why your head is taking laps in his energy. And it was him who put the topic of sex to the front after double meanings found their way into the gradually unfurling conversation, imbued with exuberance. Asked Jungkook straight away if he’d been sexually active with people after you, to which he merely shook his head ‘no’, too vulnerable to express it in his own words. You don’t think Yoongi even realized the gravity of the question, influenced by the alcohol, the lighthearted energy and the fact that he got his friend back. And Yoongi… he praised him for it, making his head lift in disbelief and coyness. You saw the way it healed him, brought color to his face— it happened so quickly, too quickly, Yoongi turning the leaf over right after, seamlessly leading the conversation back to the double meanings, working them up until you and Jungkook blushed. 

But you didn’t listen entirely, and neither did Jungkook. You surveyed the way he turned the praise over in his mind, dwelling on it. And you knew, without a doubt, that, besides healing him—undoing the ugly words flung at him that day, it turned him on. He played with his bracelet in the air, a faint smile on his mouth, legs outstretched, touching yours, and you… you wanted to play with him, too. Your body begged you for it, telling you it’s time. 

In fact, you knew very well what the little bit of alcohol Yoongi drank was doing to him. Much like Jungkook, it helped him avoid the matter of his friend’s sensitive burden at hand while collecting information. Especially about where he stands in the realm of the three of you and sex. And while you’ve let him do it, thinking it was something he needed to do on his journey, you've also been deciding for the last half an hour when it was time to put a stop to it. The sexual comments, the double meanings—it became too much, became too obvious, even though he, in most probability, wasn’t even aware of it, was doing it for you unconsciously. And your body agreed, whispering to you that the only way you could do that was to take advantage of what was right before you.

You were going to outrun your boyfriend and seduce them both. 

You light up a cigarette, bringing Yoongi’s attention to you. You graze your foot on his shin as you cross your legs, lifting it higher until you reach his thigh. And when you take a long drag, you skim your hand on Jungkook’s knee, briefly—calling for his attention, too, preparing him. Your toe feels up Yoongi’s soft manhood and he stops talking, your hand trailing along the side of Jungkook’s thigh, inches away from his intimate parts. They let you touch them, both heads turned in your direction. 

Stillness, arousing stillness. You smile, innocently. 

Before Yoongi has the chance to scold you for interrupting him, you withdraw. You withdraw entirely. Pretend to take your cigarette to the balcony. Jungkook lifts his hand to grab yours, to put it back where it was, but you’re gone before you could take him up on it. 

You feel both of them watching you as you leave. You sway your hips a little. It makes you chuckle. Makes you feel invincible.

You stay there but for a mere moment. Don’t even finish your cigarette before you put it out in the ashtray. And when you return, you undo the knot while they are preoccupied, unaware of you. Uncover the outfit you spent your money on while Yoongi healed. 

A sheer, black crop top, with polka dots and puffed sleeves, that ties in the middle, ending beneath your breasts and adding nothing to the imagination. Could be mistaken for a wireless bra. Panties of the same tulle material with frills on the side. You leave your robe undone, the act of revealing yourself so casually stiffening your nipples. You consider taking a seat as if you did no such thing, but an idea pulls you to your boyfriend, who’s ignorant to your scheme, listening to something that Jungkook is telling him. 

You don’t grasp any of the words coming out of his mouth, however you do focus on the deep intonation of his voice. Let it curl beneath your skin; propel you to act out on your whim. 

You take a seat on Yoongi’s lap. Jungkook’s gaze falls on your intimate form, bare under the almost translucent fabric, and he parts his lips. He watches as Yoongi wraps an arm around your middle and smiles at the feeling of your bare skin. You rock your hips once, backwards, pretending you’re shifting to make yourself comfortable and Yoongi grips your waist until his fingers turn white. Jungkook doesn’t stop talking, hides his astonishment at your behavior, at your boldness. Doesn’t stop looking at you and neither do you at him, nodding to every other word as if you were listening. That is until you grab a handful of cheese balls and pop one by one into your mouth, purposefully letting one of them fall into your cleavage. 

“Can you get it for me? My hands are full.”

You have a perfectly free hand by your side.

You’ve interrupted him so rudely that you’re surprised that he doesn’t frown at you, but smirks instead. Yoongi caresses your thigh, validating you, catching onto your scheme, and it spreads the fire that burst in you hours ago, making it bigger, hotter. 

It’s time. You want both of them, badly. 

You lean forward for him, fingers ready for the next move you’re planning. Jungkook lifts a hand, reaches for the orange treat in the middle of your breasts and before his digits have the time to grasp it, you pull on the loose knot on your top, your flesh spilling, the treat slipping onto the floor.

He only chuckles, deeply. Teased, but pleased. 

“Oh, no.” Fake pity; fake pout. You look at the cheese ball, then back at Jungkook. Your impishness reflects in the blazing fire of his eyes, the same one that courses through your body. “I guess I didn’t tie it properly. Can you do it for me? My hand is dirty.” 

You eat the last remaining cheese balls while staring him dead in the eye. Show him your orange-tinted fingers once you’re done. A spark flashes in the fire; piques his interest. 

Leaning forward even more, Yoongi uses your position to slide your robe down your shoulders. Lifts you for a second to rid you completely of it, setting you back down sharply, causing your breasts to bounce. Throws it on Jungkook’s lap. A gesture that tells him playtime has begun. He sucks in a breath, biting his bottom lip, the way Yoongi gathers your hair in his fist stealing his attention fleetingly from you, fingers clutching the fabric. 

And when he takes the swinging laces in his hands and barely tightens them, you click your tongue, disapprovingly. “Tighter.” 

It arouses the beast in him, eyes lidding ever so slightly. He pulls on the laces until your breasts are squished together. “Like this?” 

You wet your lips before you quirk them up. “Yes. Make a bow for me.” 

Jungkook deepens the eye contact as he obeys. You lift your chin, asserting Yoongi’s dominance, taking after him, the inkling to own that beast in him absorbing you whole. 

And you shall. 

When he’s finished with the bow, he grazes the material of your top, fingers flat against your nipples before he slouches back in his chair. The touch was too brief for your liking, yet it spurs your cunt to soak your panties, the notion that you’ve done it intoxicating your senses—you’ve seduced him. 

You mimic what he did, theatrically—you slouch back into Yoongi’s chest, turn your chin to the side to tell on him. “Yoongi, he touched me.” 

Yoongi only smirks, playing along. “Did he? How? Show me.” 

Your fingers fly to your pebbled nipples, stroking them in downward motion like he did before you repeat it. Again and again. Your hips begin to slowly rotate, your body reacting to your touch, to the pleasure you’re giving it. “Like this.” 

Jungkook’s breath hitches in his throat. He spreads his legs. You do, too. And when you whimper, he twitches, your robe slipping onto the ground, joining the cheese ball. 

“Did it feel good? When he touched you there?” Yoongi asks, hands spreading across your thighs. You make a noise of agreement, whining into it. “Does it feel as good now?” 

You shake your head ‘no’, meaning it. “No, it makes me needy.”  

Yoongi hums. “Where?” 

You cup the soaked material of your panties, right over your cunt with one hand, while the other squeezes your breast. “Here.” 

Your boyfriend opens your legs wider, as if to take a closer look at what body part you’re showing him. “You should do something about that, shouldn’t you?”

“Like what?” 

“Touch yourself.” 

Jungkook stills. Doesn’t breathe. Doesn’t blink. Neither do you. 

“How?” 

“I don’t know, maybe I should ask him,” he mumbles, fingers playing with the frills on your hips. “Do you want me to ask him?” 

The asking of consent, beckoning out your slick. You nod your head. “Ask him, please, I can’t take it anymore.”

Jungkook’s mouth is parted in an enigmatic manner, waiting—waiting to be given what your boyfriend long teased him with. And you like the suspense, the tension pulled so taut, the process before he’s gratified. It makes you even needier and, like Jungkook, you clutch the fabric of your panties in impatience. 

Yoongi doesn’t ask right away. He tortures Jungkook until his lips lose their moisture. Dry, like a withered flower asking for the tiniest raindrop to refresh. And you want to give it to him. You’re leaking so much dewiness it is only right that he could get to drink it. You tuck that thought into your heart. 

Yoongi hooks his thumbs under the waistband of your panties and slowly, like your robe, drags them down as far as he can reach. Then, he lets them pool by your knees. “Take them off of her,” he commands in a hushed tone, fingers drifting to your waist, stopping by your mound and your stomach on the way. And it isn’t until Jungkook rids you fully of the wet undergarment that he finally asks: “How should she touch herself?” 

Jungkook crumples it in his fist, tightly enough that white comes into view across his colorful knuckles upon the denim of his jeans. And among other things, his breath hardens. Gazes into your eyes as he says to Yoongi, “Tell her to lift her legs, lick her fingers and rub her princess parts until it feels good.” 

He’s tuned in into the role-play. You think about how you wanted to turn off your brain for him when he had told you to not think that he’d ever get sick of you. How you wanted to keep it stupid for him. 

You know that if you were to do that, if you were to let go—that he’d put you under his spell again, but you’re not letting that cave in on you. Because when Yoongi imparts the instructions to you and you lift your leg, propping your foot on Jungkook’s thigh, saliva-coated fingers finding your clit, you feel a sliver of something indescribably exhilarating. 

Jungkook moans at the first few careful circles. And it’s him who becomes hypnotized. 

It’s your green light to play the role of a stupid, innocent girl—in the hands of two very experienced, aroused men. Seduced, more like. You pat yourself on the back, mentally.  

And the proud feeling of your achievement, the feeling of his vigorous and ardent observance of your pleasured cunt, of the tendril of the profound reminiscence that sweeps in as if he truly missed the sight of her—it all incites you to speed up your movement. To consciously immerse yourself deeper in the role, in the pretending. You figure it should work like this; you won’t get submerged in the water of the hypnosis if you remain in control, clinging to it with all your might. Not if Jungkook is the one spellbound this time. 

You feel your orgasm drawing closer at that thought, breathing against your body. 

“Am I doing it right?” 

Jungkook sneaks a hand around your ankle, hard breaths puffing out of his still parted mouth, cheeks full of vibrant color, eyes dazed—so awfully dazed and fixed on your cunt, on the sheen of your arousal splattered on your folds. Then, he licks his lips, slouches further in his seat after he moves his chair to be more in line with you. Horny, curious puppy, needing to see the full view; your work of art. Yoongi’s soft chuckle rumbles against your scalp and you realize he’s been watching him this entire time, studying him—assessing the situation meticulously. 

“Is she doing it right?” Yoongi asks and you can hear the smirk coating his voice. Jungkook’s other hand, with the panties still clutched, wraps around his hard length, brows furrowing and you whine at the sight, but Yoongi tuts, disapproving. “No touching.” 

Jungkook lifts his hand and so do you—to stall your orgasm, the principle of Jungkook obeying so easily almost throwing you over the edge. You breathe heavily, a tingly sensation swarming within your skin, a certain string of words rising on your tongue. 

You turn your head towards Yoongi. Dart out your tongue to lick swiftly at his bottom lip before you kiss him. Yoongi hums, pleased. “Tell him he’s a good boy.”

Another similar sound, one that makes you smile. You drift a hand towards the back of his head, fingers sinking into the dark length of his hair. Yoongi purrs, blinking down at you like rose petals fluttering—you feel as though you were at the very beginning, living through the moment you learned Jungkook’s name, as if no pain, no murkiness never settled upon the three of you. You don’t know how it makes you feel and you hardly want to decipher it; you gravitate towards enjoying yourself more, thoughts and feelings pushed to the side. 

“He is, isn’t he?” Yoongi murmurs, taking your arm gently in his hand and joining it to your other one around the back of his head, then he roams his back, takes his time, until he plants it upon your cunt. You spasm at the long-awaited contact. “He listens well. So out of it, the poor thing forgot to speak. Maybe we should help him with that, don’t you think?” Poor thing. Your hole clenches, drooling with your dewiness and you groan, the aspect of Jungkook being degraded like this, after he dominated both of you the last time, making you utterly, utterly feral. 

At your noise, Yoongi begins to play with your slippery folds, pressing them together with his fingers flat on each side—not touching your pussy, but pleasuring her nonetheless. You give him more at each squeeze he bestows on your clit, elated that he’s touching her after such a long time, elated that he’s able to. 

It is, undeniably, working like this. Your heart thrums with elation. Happy it has come to this, happy it’s different this time—happy that both parties are happy. 

Not wishing to lose the momentum, you gaze at Jungkook. At the light cascading dimly from his lip ring—that pink, puffy, dry mouth that you long to kiss, that you long to feel on your bundle of nerves. His eyes seem to grow in size at your attention and you’re so touched to witness something like that. You need to ride his face; you need to watch those eyes roll back. You can see his need to take charge, to tell both of you what to do by his irregular breaths, clenched fists and bulging muscles, veins so prominent that you do well not staring at them at all—but he subdues that need, perhaps for you, perhaps for Yoongi. Both possibilities graze your feelings with such fondness that he’s putting himself last, prioritizing the hard truth: you’re not his, not in the sexual ambiance of your time spent together, not even in the lasciviousness of your daydreams. 

You’re Yoongi’s and he’s the boss, one he should’ve been since the beginning. And that’s the core of the difference. The key that makes this work. 

Covering your mouth, you spill your idea of how you should help Jungkook speak into Yoongi’s ear while keeping your eyes on his round ones. He aches to be let in on it, to know, but you don’t allow him that satisfaction. In fact, when you beam at Yoongi once you withdraw, it’s more of a provocation directed towards the puppy than an expression of your true joy. 

“Yes, fuck yes,” Yoongi agrees, orbs aglow by the idea, by something that you can only pin down to a feeling of safety within the environment. He feels safe. Feels comfortable. Feels okay—more than okay by the hardening length against your bum, by the moonbeams flecking across his irises, by the extension of his index finger to your clit, which makes you freeze, stop breathing altogether. “But I want to make you come first. Can I?” 

You peck him, deeply, to seal that package of positive feelings in him, to seal that sense of safety and comfort. Nod a million times. “Yes, please, baby. I need it.” 

Yoongi coos at the pet name, at your willing submissiveness to him and expression of neediness. Nudges his nose against yours. “Need what?” 

You giggle softly. Happy, so awfully happy. “I need you to make me come,” you say, but your words are muffled by the way he skims his mouth over yours, and you don’t think over the next words directed to the other male that tumble out of you. “You want to watch?” 

A stupid, stupid question because he’s been watching this entire time, although it breaks something. Breaks the invisible wall between you, Yoongi and him—breaks his coyness as he sets your foot down and leans forward, smiling fondly. “I’d be happy to watch. Honored.” 

It breaks the unspoken, unseen tension. Breaks the past. Breaks the hurt. And the difference, now validated, made beautiful by his smile, sinks in, spreads across the atmosphere surrounded by the three of you. The sense of safety and comfort now sails over into Jungkook’s pores, slipping inside. And you could burst now. Burst with your joy. 

The afternoon spent in the cabin dissolves. 

You didn’t expect that to happen. 

Yoongi feels it—and you feel him feel it by the trembling breaths he takes against your back. And even though you went into the rabbit hole with him with empty hands, now you hold healing in them. A warm round body of light, heavy and thick, ready for them both. Yoongi might have talked Jungkook’s head off and drank until his nerves eased and was able to escape them, but now he’s eligible to take the light. Jungkook is, too, now that he’s given you his consent for the dynamic to be different. A certain kind of glorious satisfaction envelops you in glow, ridding you of any intoxication and you’re bare. Vulnerable, horny and so tremendously bright. Filled with flowers, filled with love, filled with a delicious, selfish taste of control. 

You want to kiss Jungkook, but you recognize right away that there’s a time and a place for that, one that is not appropriate now. You stifle your craving, wiggle your hips to let Yoongi know you want him to begin. 

You brim with the need to forget now and just enjoy yourself, enjoy yourself at the hands of your long-awaited desire, now boundless, now right, now different. And you break the crumbles of the wall, the hurt and the past when you tell them. “I want us to forget about the last time and enjoy where we are right now. Can we do that?” 

Although you don’t know the contents of the long conversation they had in private about this, you’re glad you’ve said it out loud. Glad it’s out of your chest. Glad for the kiss Yoongi plants on your temple. Glad for Jungkook’s hand encasing yours. Even if that’s the only way they communicate their agreement. 

Out with the old, in with the new. 

And Jungkook keeps holding your hand when Yoongi begins to rub your clit. He tightens his hold, in fact, at the first twist of your features, at the relief intermingling, despite the fact he knows nothing about how this is the first time Yoongi touched you like this since forever ago. His hand feels much more different than yours, much more nimble and much quicker. And the pleasure that floods your body is more about that than it is about the stimulation. A wish pricks at you, a wish to tell him, but you don’t let it get near you, not when you know the time for that is long, long gone, not when forgetting is supposed to take place now because the new is here. 

You push those thoughts entirely away. The thoughts of there being a certain forever ago, a certain past along with it, too. 

And then Yoongi hums and the sound sweeps it far, far away from you. 

He pinches your nipple. Finds it’s not enough and forces your top open, undoing the bow, baring you to his and Jungkook’s eyes. Joins his other hand to knead both of your full breasts, but you whine, needing him elsewhere. Yoongi chuckles, listening to you—drifting his hand immediately back down to your clit, resuming his swift circles.  

Jungkook salivates. Makes no indication of being in demand of participation. Merely wipes at the corners of his mouth while his other hand squeezes yours in a tight, clammy hold. Light protrudes from his eyes, akin to the one you still own, cooling the sweat layering upon your body. No darkness of arousal, none whatsoever, only the chocolate brown of his irises, vibrant, mesmerized and absolutely affectionate. 

Newness, you breathe it in and exhale a moan. Yoongi changes direction. Moves from circles to side to side, angling your body so he can give it his all. You feel the incoming pressure of your orgasm and you ready yourself for it, squeezing your eyes shut. And when he decides to alternate, so quickly that you lose track of it, it is your ultimate undoing. 

Mainly when Yoongi curtly slaps your clit, transferring you back to the very beginning of your story, rooting you there. You come so hard that you fall apart. 

Tears fly out of you, but you laugh—and the sound is broken by a deep moan from your chest caused by pure, boundless euphoria. Yoongi prolongs your orgasm, keeps strumming your clit, purring onto your mouth and you open your eyes to witness his devotion to it, to your pleasure. Brows furrowed, eyes lidded, pouty mouth. Adamant on making you feel as good as—

It triggers another orgasm. A softer, mellow one. And the string of noises you let out are of the same dulcet nature. Yoongi swallows them, groaning, fondling your pussy, patting her gently, making you tremble, woozy, giddy and so incredibly girly. 

“That was so good,” he whispers, caressing you everywhere and you nod, a million times. You’ve missed him, terribly. 

You give him a nasty kiss full of tongue, aware of what’s happened and of what’s next just the same. 

Yoongi perches on the floor, knees on either side of yours as you crawl towards Jungkook’s lap. He leans back, a surprised grin appearing on his flustered face. And it hits him like a ton of bricks when you pop his button open and drag down the zipper of his jeans. Your words that follow, too. 

“Off. Everything.” 

“You want to suck me off?” A calm bewilderment coats his voice, such a heavy oxymoron for him to bear when he was fine with just watching. 

You smile at him briefly before you wet your lips, eager to make happen what he can’t believe you’re willing to do for him. “I knew it would get you talking.” 

An airy laugh. So endearing to your hearing sense. He cradles your chin for a mere beat of time. “You’re so smart.” He takes off his tank, revealing his enormous pecs adorned with a long but dainty silver chain that you crave to have swinging in your face, that steals your attention from the dose of validation he gave you. 

But when Yoongi leaves, your heart sinks in panic. 

Only to hoist it back up when you realize he went to fetch the gift he bought you, along with a bigger tube of lube from your bedroom. Your body tremors and it’s both of the males that try to alleviate it. Yoongi, who settles back behind you, fondling the skin of your bare bum. Jungkook, who turns you to look at him, nodding once to let you know everything’s okay. 

You release a breath, but you can’t hide the shakes. 

Jungkook strokes your brow. A tender touch that drives you to believe him. Yes, everything’s okay. The past is gone. Healing is contained in the conscious reminders. The light in your hands flutters, calling out to you, and you press it over that heft of your wandering heart. 

It’s you who alleviates the tremors. 

And when you take off your top, Jungkook follows suit, ridding himself of his jeans.

To distract your mind from hurling false thoughts at you, you finally allow yourself to look at his hard length—still, disappointingly clothed. Thick. You can almost feel the memory of him, the heaviness of him, when he had you pressed against him by the pond. The first time you touched him. You groan, softly. “Off.” 

Jungkook coos, patting you on the cheek with his finger. “So eager.” 

He paints a smile on your face with that brush of his digit. “Be a good boy and listen.” 

Without taking his eyes off of you, he swears. Pulls his manhood out, tugs his boxers a few inches down and you bite back a gasp, a moan and something in between. Red, swollen tip, the petal of a sun-kissed rose, little thick veins enveloping the girth. He keeps his balls covered to tease you. “Like this, Mommy?” 

You glare at him and it’s Yoongi’s second-hand embarrassment laughter that smooths out your features, contagious to such a great extent that when you look back at him to see him pinching the bridge of his nose with his eyes squeezed and crinkly, you burst into the same laughter, lungs expanding, exhaling all that heft and momentary residue of panic until there’s nothing negative left. 

It even radiates Jungkook. He laughs so much that his cock bounces, which deepens your giggles and you hide your face in your hands. 

And when the conveyance of joy simmers, another tender tears rush out of your tear ducts. Good tears. You’re so content with life shared with the two males that you can’t help but be emotional. You shield those tears behind the premise of your laughter. They’re private—just yours. The final conclusion of the dark side. 

Yoongi skims his fingers across your tiny hole. Back to business. 

You tug Jungkook’s boxers all the way down and you lift his ankle to rid him completely of them. Mimic the way he did it to you. You even think about keeping them. Think about how this is exactly how it should be—recollecting only the good parts of the story, the light side while letting the dark one go. Jungkook sees it on your face and he lets you decide. 

You don’t have to think twice. 

You fling his underwear on the chair you sat on. Jungkook caresses your hair in response and you smile at him. Yoongi leans over you, fists your hair and pushes you toward Jungkook’s cock. At the sight, the puppy swears. 

“Spit on it. Make it nice and wet for him,” Yoongi orders and there’s slyness to your ever persisting smile when you gather your saliva and do exactly as he says. 

At the first contact of your liquid love, Jungkook swears again and there’s no stopping to that litany of vulgar words when you, just like him, swirl it around the top of his head with the tip of your tongue without taking your gaze off of him. It’s at this movement of yours that a flashback gleams across his still round, tender eyes for a split second. Now he remembers, now you’ve pulled him back to the place you didn’t even realize that you did. 

Yoongi guides you to wrap your mouth around him and Jungkook loses it. 

The suction of your cheeks, the eye contact, the warmth of your mouth and the wetness of your tongue, Jungkook rolls his eyes back before he whisks them back to you, not able to miss one moment of the pleasure you give him. Yoongi pushes your head back and forth and when it dawns upon you that there’s nothing else for you to do but to keep your mouth open while Yoongi does all the work, you moan. And like Jungkook, you can’t stop. 

You feel Yoongi’s lips at your ear. “You think you can take him all the way?” 

The mewl that comes out of you is the only agreement you can manage to give him. Yoongi groans, kissing your earlobe before he licks it, nibbles on it, taking his mouth to the skin beneath, causing your eyes to narrow. Your pussy drenches, throbs and your hand automatically flies to her. You rub yourself slowly to gain a hint of relief, bobbing your head up and down, tongue feeling up the thick veins along his girth and you whine so desperately—enough for Yoongi to check what was the cause of it. 

He draws back. Finds you touching yourself. Clicks his tongue and chuckles in absolute appreciation. He likes what he sees. Pushes your head until your nose swipes past Jungkook’s minimal pubic hair and only when you gag does he let you breathe—does he let you play with his tip on your own. “Mommy is playing with her needy cunt.” 

The curse word that wafts in the air is singular, coming out of your and Jungkook’s mouth simultaneously. There’s no laughter this time. Just thick arousal spreading across the room, dizzying all of your senses. Jungkook is breathless and the look you share is desperate, unspoken but so, so vivid. You take him in your free hand and jerk him off, reveling in the feeling of his veins. You give him all of your whiny moans, straightening up, your fingers sneaking to your hole. Eyes narrowing, mouth open, the sounds of your slick saliva in your tight grasp so obscene, so stimulating that when you begin to finger yourself and Yoongi latches his lips onto your neck, you know you’ll be coming in mere, pathetic minutes. 

Jungkook leans forward a little bit to watch you stuffing yourself full. Bites his lip, closes his eyes when you tighten your grip around his head. And you do it again and again to coax his moans and he willingly supplies you with them. Opens his eyes and the look he gives you stops time. “So good. So fucking good.” 

You yearn to kiss him and he does, too. You twist your wrist and he loses himself for a moment. That alone speeds up the coming of your orgasm. Your body flares with heat, your fingers picking up their speed instinctually and Jungkook angles his head to kiss you—

You push him back. To tease him, to make him more desperate because it pleases you and Jungkook smirks at you, gripping your panties in his fist. Hiding your own, you lick him all over and get to the undiscovered part you want the most. 

You mouth his full balls. Whimper against them. Hot flashes fill your sight at the scent of him, even more so when Jungkook inhales your sounds and emits the same ones. “Fuck, sweetheart, oh fuck, yes, like that.” Takes your hand and busies it, wrapping it around his length. You spasm at the pet name, at the warmth that seeps into your skin from him.  

It’s him who guides you now. Yoongi merely watches, in awe, wet fingers rubbing circles on your tiny hole, preparing you. “That’s it, honey, make him come.” 

You’re so overwhelmed by your task that you withdraw your fingers from your heat, though Yoongi is quick to replace his. And the speed he establishes, you mimic it on Jungkook’s length and he grunts at the contact of your dewiness on him. You twists your wrists, fucking yourself back on Yoongi’s fingers. Bore your gaze into Jungkook’s. Hard, hard breaths, quickening lifts of his chest, he struggles to reciprocate your eye contact, the rhythm so beautiful so seamless, working so well. 

And when you wrap your lips around him and suck him with fast bobs, he comes. 

You open your mouth, yearning to feel him paint your face. Quick to grip his balls to feel them emptying out for you and you milk his cum out of him, jerking him off until his ropes smear on the corners of your lips, hot and thick. Yoongi pulls out his fingers, latches them onto your hip. “Stick out your tongue.” 

You do as he says, in time to catch the last rope landing onto the muscle. You hum, swallowing, watching the tension screwing his features and the relief unweaving it as his orgasm reaches the end. Winded, dumbfounded, gruntled. A lovely sight to behold. 

Jungkook’s grip loosens on your panties. And with his other hand, he feeds you his cum. Swipes his fingers from your cheek onto your mouth, plunging it inside. Yoongi kisses the side of your face, gripping your neck to hold your head steady for Jungkook, allowing him to finish the job. 

You swallow everything, the taste of him suffused with mild earthiness, with tanginess and the tiniest hint of sweetness. Liquid candy, just for you. You allow him to see how much you enjoyed that, but it’s Yoongi first to whom you show that you’ve swallowed everything. 

Your boyfriend beams at you. “Well done, honey.” He kisses you hard, licking into your mouth, and the thought of him tasting the residue of Jungkook numbs your senses entirely. “You did so well.” 

You’re panting when he withdraws and when you look at Jungkook, there’s a moment of stillness when you take in the thundering turmoil rushing inside him. You don’t have to guess what’s behind it. Jungkook voices it. “Let me kiss her, please.” 

Such a soft murmur, charged with so much desperation. You break at the sound of it, gripping his hand, furrowing your brows, ready to give him anything he wants, boundlessly. Your heart thuds and it only takes one look at Yoongi and he folds, too. 

Nods. 

You thought he’d kiss you from the position you’re in, but Jungkook stands to his feet, grabbing you along with him, picking you up like a child by sliding his hands under your armpits. And when he presses you against him and kisses you hungrily with fast pecks, breathing hard, you discern how illogical it was for him to call you Mommy. 

Even though he can listen like a good boy, it’s merely a role, one he plays for you, for Yoongi, one that fragments with each kiss. Who he truly is the reversal of it. 

He’s Daddy. Undeniably. 

You’ve never been keen for titles. You and Yoongi never used them, never felt the need for it, hence why you both laughed when it came up. But the more you kiss him, the more you sense it. The awakening dominance, the tendril of fatherliness that spirals around you, the deserved respect he emanates. It turns you on to the point that you find yourself wondering what else is there beneath the shadows of your undiscovered sexuality. 

The feeling of his warm skin against yours, his still hard manhood against your stomach, the provocation of the lip ring, the softness of his mouth slowing down and prolonging the kiss—fuck. How much more can you possibly get aroused? He empties out your brain, but you’re calm, not panicked by it at all. And to stay conscious, to stay in control, you wrap your hand around him again. 

He hisses, breaking the kiss, grasping your hand. “Too sensitive. Sorry. I came so hard.” 

You coo, pecking him deeply, squeezing his broad shoulders. “It’s okay.” 

When you turn around to give your attention to Yoongi, you find him deep in thought, fixed on Jungkook. “Remember how she came when you kissed her? At the cabin?” 

Your heart speeds up. Not due to fear or anything of the sort, but due to excitement. You know where he’s heading with this. 

“Hard to forget,” Jungkook murmurs and it thrums beneath your skin, spreading wide. 

“She came multiple times when I made her think about that,” Yoongi starts and you can’t halt the smile growing on your lips. A tiny whirl of shyness mingles with the words coursing through your bloodstream. “It’s what we did. I made her imagine that you were kissing her, eating her out while she touched herself. And now I want you to give it to her. Give it to her good. Better than she was able to imagine.” 

Sharp inhale of breath. You want to see his reaction to your secret—but then hands. Clammy hands on your hips, nose nuzzling in your hair. “Who’s gonna be in control when I do that?” 

Your eyes widen, pulse quickening to the point that it troubles you. 

And Yoongi looks at you when he answers his question, “You. It’s me who’s gonna watch now.” 

© 2024 hoseoksluna, all rights reserved.

BACK to masterlist / READ part one, READ part two 

[ofswordsandpens]

Okay compiling my most critical opinions on the pjo show so far (episodes 1 & 2)

The Gods' Conflict, Foreshadowing, & Big Three Kids

The show has seemingly dropped a lot of the foreshadowing and threat regarding the gods impending war over the theft of the lightning bolt. In the book, Percy remarks about how the weather's been inexplicably weird and extreme. When he gets to camp everyone is on pins and needles about something and they don't want to talk about it but its still very present. By the time he's claimed as a son of Poseidon and everyone's like "oh fuck" and then Chiron finally explains to Percy that the gods think he's the lightning thief, everything clicks into place for the reader. It all makes sense why everything seems so wrong... because things are wrong. Meanwhile in the show, that doesn't carry through as much, so the reveal of the conflict between the gods and why that's a big deal falls flat in comparison imo.

They dropped/stalled the foreshadowing of the fates and the cutting of the string. They could very well include this in future episodes, and probably will, but I think the timing of it - Percy seeing this before he even knew he was a demigod - again carries some hefty significance and helped set the foreboding tone of things being wrong even from the beginning.

They did drop Zeus's attack on Percy in the minotaur battle completely, which does disappoint me. In the book, its lightning that blasts the car off the road. In the show, Sally seemingly loses control of the car. That change is pretty significant, because it's again losing the power of RR's foreshadowing in the book. The attack on Percy outside the camp borders was a duel attack from Zeus and Hades.

Finally, I don't like the changes they made to Percy's claiming scene, namely, the reaction from the rest of CHB. Percy being a son of Poseidon is a huge deal. When Percy's claimed, the attitude is very much begrudging reverence paired with genuine fear of what it means and what he represents. In the book, Percy is claimed. People gasp. Everyone kneels. Annabeth says, "This is really not good." In the show, Percy is claimed. People... stand there? Annabeth smiles - she's going to get her quest. The only person who has the most outright negative reaction is Luke. I won't go so far to say this is out of character for Annabeth, but it is focusing on an entirely different aspect of her character in the moment, and what the audience gets from Percy's claiming scene here, the tone, is now different from the book. Basically, the reverence and fear don't really carry across to the show, which I think is important.

The phrase "forbidden child" slaps tho.

2. Gabe's Characterization, Sally's Characterization, & Why the Changes do Make a Difference

I'm going to say this with great care: The show has absolutely depicted an abusive relationship between Sally and Gabe. The show has shown Sally to be a strong woman who would do anything for her child. The show has shown Gabe to be a controlling, toxic man.

What they have depicted in the show does not read like the characters and dynamic in the books.

Book Gabe is a violent, menacing drunk. He is so disgusting and vile that monsters avoid him. This is overwhelmingly apparent from the second Percy gets home in the book, even before he is aware of the physical abuse Sally has been facing. Percy has already been dealing with physical abuse from him, amongst other things (edit to be more specific: this is including verbal, emotional, & financial abuse). I've already spoke to it here, in-depth, so I'll try to keep it short but all of this has not been translated accurately to the screen. (Is this to say that a person must be overtly abusive to be abusive? No. But does this character on-screen feel like Smelly Gabe? No.) These things have shaped Percy (and Sally) in very specific ways. As others have mentioned: Percy cannot stand alcohol. He meets Dionysus and is reminded of his step-father. He gets to Tartarus and the air reminds him of Gabe.... The character on screen, while abusive, does not share this presence at all, and that makes a difference.

Edit: To emphasize once more, I am not saying that the show has not depicted a realistic portrayal of abuse. It has (verbal, emotional, & financial so far). It has also distinctly changed the tone and Gabe's presence from the book, to the extent that it no longer feels like the same character and that does have a rippling effect on the dynamics he shares with both Sally and Percy.

3. The Lack of Annabeth

Annabeth in the show is just like... really not as present as she is in the book so far, and I'm just kinda like, why lol?

Annabeth in the books is already way more involved in Percy's life. She was in the infirmary feeding Percy ambrosia after the attack (ulterior quest motives lol), she's the one who lead Percy around camp and re-explained godly parentage to him - and its a moment where she's very sincere with him, and even trying to help him! Instead these moments are given to Chiron and Luke, which I do get the merit of, but still, these were her moments!

Annabeth in the books had already surmised that the gods were fighting, something was stolen, and the something bad was going to happen, all before Percy had even been claimed. And she shared that with him! Again, the loss of foreshadowing and little bonding moments has me :(

I'm a little worried how they're going to deal with her crush on Luke because its pretty central to her character in the books! It helps Luke to manipulate her and also keeps her from admitting he's done something wrong. Also, it was very sweet and funny reading her get flustered - It drove home the point that she was just a kid with a crush that she didn't know how to handle. But in the show Luke spoke to her and I was expecting there to be some sort of reaction to it and there just... wasn't? (This is not something I'm laying at Leah's feet btw! Only the writers/directors!) We're only two episodes in tho so maybe we'll see it some more moving forward.

4. The Minotaur Battle

Again, I've already spoken about this in depth here but !!

The lack of Zeus's lightning strike, them all coming to a standstill and just chatting instead of running for their lives, Grover being awake and just sort of off to the side watching the fight, Sally being like "Promise Me Grover Swear it"... it all just doesn't ring right to me

I wanted more panic, more terror, more urgency. Higher stakes. I wanted Grover unconscious, I wanted to see Percy drag him into camp, and I wanted to see more of Percy's grief alongside his rage. Like the book did.

The pacing in the show here, and just overall, is weird

5. Other Stuff

Mrs. Dodds fight kind of fell flat too. It was honestly too sudden and Percy killing her in the show seemed even more accidental than in the book lol. Like, accidental impalement vs intentional swing of the sword.

They really had show Grover throw Percy to the wolves and not just gaslight him, but low-key have a part in getting him expelled? Not sure how I feel about it tbh.

More New York. I wish we had gotten the part of Percy taking the bus home with Grover included cause like? Him ditching Grover was funny, but it would have been the perfect opportunity to show Percy traveling through New York and establish it has his home. Shots of him looking at the city, walking the streets, interacting with people near his building.. yeah.

More Montauk too tbh. Like more shots of him and Sally on the beach rather than just the cabin.

Nectar and Ambrosia! Unless I missed it, which I might have, why have we still not gotten an onscreen depiction of it yet lmao.

[misasimagines]

least to most jealous! (Tokyo Debunker)

included characters: all of them except Subaru I'm so sorry!!!!

rating: Technically SFW but suggestive

warnings: unhealthy and toxic behaviors, some suggestive (sexual and violent) content though nothing graphic. GN reader.

Okay, some clarification:

Regarding Subaru: I HAVE to give a disclaimer here and say that I simply do not get him. I’m so sorry Suba fans. I just think he's lying and acting and I'm not comfortable writing for him when I can't figure out what his deal is.

I've been working on this for days and simply cannot perceive it any more so please forgive typos and... god everything else. It's so long.

I formatted it as "bad end" and "good end" so the bad ends are like the absolute worst and most exaggerated negative outcomes and behaviors while the good ends assume everyone behaves as if they are capable of being rational (which they are). This doesn't mean to romanticize any of the toxic behaviors, we're just having fun :)!

If you disagree.... [I am already laying dead on the floor]

Zenji

Bad End: You have to be the toxic one for a bad end and you have to be downright CRIMINAL to make Zenji break up with you. You have to be breaking his damn heart because he'll forgive you for so much. You could be having sex with a bunch of other people and plan the timing so he'd see it and he'd sadly be like, oh of course, I can't really show them that kind of affection the way that I am… I'm grateful they spend any time with me at all. If you do this to him, I'm killing you actually. If you cheat on Zenji, I'm coming out of your Tumblr browsing device like the girl from the Ring and I'm attacking you. He's TOO GOOD AND SWEET for you to do this to him 😡😡😡

Good End: He's very forgiving and understanding and doesn't really get jealous. If he's worried about you being unhappy with him or his situation, he will talk to you about it and give you 100 outs to break up with him amicably. If you refuse them all and tell him you don't want anyone else, he'll be overjoyed if not still feeling very bittersweet. Expect to hear a sad little poem or song about lovers doomed to live on opposite sides of mortality or something.

Jiro

Bad End: You’re going to have to be the toxic one here for a bad end and that bad end is very simple and succinct. He tells you that if you want to see other people, you can break up with him. And then he waits for you to respond because he’s not putting up with this. If you break up with him, that’s that, he’s washed his hands of you and is moving on. If you ask him out again later, he’ll just tell you he doesn’t have the time to waste on someone who’s so disloyal. If you don’t break up with him, and you are a cheating bastard, when he sees it (and he WILL, because his ass is NOT DUMB), he’ll break up with you and ask that you don’t bother him again. Further attempts at communication will be very brief.

Good End: He’s too straightforward for this. If he sees you being “too friendly” with someone, he will ask you point blank what was going on there. He doesn’t mind you being friendly or affectionate with other people, he doesn’t overreact when you get hit on, he doesn’t have a problem with you wanting to spend a night with friends instead of him. He’s just like, that’s fine. Bring a jacket because it’ll be cold. If you’re uncomfortable because someone’s hitting on you, he’s just like okay, I’m in the situation now, and that’s generally enough to stop anyone from being handsy or flirty with you because Jiro is like 6’6. Who’s trying to fight him, let’s be real. If they keep going he’s just like, okay I’ll take my s/o and go then. Just an unbothered KING. This is what you want in a man BELIEVE ME. He just behaves rationally and calmly even if he could chainsaw someone to death.

That being said, if he has to chainsaw murder someone to death, I don't think he'll feel that bad about it.

Ed

Bad End: He might pull some of his sickly old man cards out to be like ah, my dear, please don’t leave me today while my health is failing. You should cancel your plans and watch this Youtuber stream the process of building a house in the rain forest out of clay and sticks with me… I need you to take care of me... He just milks your sympathy for all he can get. 

Good End: Really, he’s not TOO worried because he is immortal, he is a powerful vampire, and he does kind of want to have a degree of separation from you due to your fragile human mortality. I can’t imagine Ed being the most monogamous lover, and while he might not be interested in pursuing other people while he’s with you, I can see him adopting a stance of “you’re young, you should experience all life has to offer” in regards to your social life. He might poke at you like oh, did the young lad you went to see a movie with take adequate care of you or do I need to make up for his inexperience now? He’s not too worried if you go elsewhere, he has time, he’ll be the most serious love in your life at least.

Luca

Bad End: He jumps to conclusions, big shocker. He reads into your emotions and expressions and uses them as evidence to prove his own beliefs. He thinks he's doing right by you, protecting you, when he sees you frown while talking to someone or recoil when they try to touch you and immediately jumps in to protect you. He scolds people and doesn't hesitate to start and end a fight if they react aggressively. But also…he perceives a lot more danger towards you than there is, and can't always differentiate his jealousy and your actual safety. You end up with a lot of friendships being destroyed by your knight in shining armor who can't stop threatening people with bodily harm if they don't back away from you. When he sees this bothering you, he stops intervening on your behalf when you can see it and starts doing it behind your back. You're just weaker, it's fine, he's stronger and it's his duty to protect you even if you don't always agree with it.

Good End: He still jumps to conclusions and assumes the worst, but you can talk him down. No, Luca, one unhappy expression doesn't mean this person has dishonored me and my entire family. You don't need to pull your swords out! He is a gentleman more than anything and doesn't want to burden you with his own insecurities, so he tries to hold back and only brings things up to you when he's too worried to be quiet. Admittedly, it's not super often that he's jealous. He wants to think the best of you and doesn’t think that you’d actually reciprocate any of the advances that anyone makes on you. He would not date someone who he doubts is capable of loyalty. Also, he's so focused on his own goals, sadly you are kind of a second priority to him even if he would never admit it to you or himself.

Alan

Bad End: He's more protective and suspicious than jealous and does get it into his head that you're fragile and delicate and anyone could hurt you. He worries that you can't see the dangers he can, so he just…happens to be nearby when you're out for friends, just in case. He wants to know where you'll be so he can come get you immediately if something happens. And if someone does cross your boundaries, if they lay a hand on you, if he sees you look scared or uncomfortable? He'll comfort you after they're dealt with. Just don't be scared of him, you might not have known you were in danger, but he knew what they were thinking and planning and they won't ever be able to threaten you again.

Good End: He isn't the most technologically adept so he does want your itinerary before you go out without him. It is for safety and not jealousy, because he truly doesn't get jealous too often. He trusts you and he trusts your judgement, he has to or else he wouldn't be dating you. He WILL still step in the second he sees that you're uncomfortable, and he WILL lay a bitch out if necessary, but it's normally enough for him to just walk up to you to get anyone to back off. He still wants to set certain boundaries, like he doesn't like you going out at night alone because it's dangerous, not because he's afraid you're meeting your secret lover. If he had that many doubts about your loyalty, he would just break it off.

Haku

Bad End: You really are the forgiving type, huh? Oh, you don't know what that person did? Well, he really shouldn't tell you if you don't know. It'll come out if it has to, right? Just be careful around them. - That's what he does. He sows seeds of doubt in your relationships, so carefully that you don't even realize it's a pattern and eventually you're really not sure who to trust. Haku is always honest with you though, so you can trust him, and if he gives you a pitying look when you say you've made a new friend with someone, it's probably safest to drop them before they hurt you. He really isn't the most jealous, so he doesn't do this too often, but he does it whenever he is, whether he feels guilty for it or not. Ultimately, he IS just protecting you. They might not have done anything to hurt you YET, but they probably would if he didn't step in.

Good End: Otherwise, he's really pretty chill. He believes in your right to agency and if you do ever break any boundaries, he'll talk to you about it and decide if it's something he can live with. It's not like he's a saint. The charming, flirtatious comments come out naturally and he won’t stop complimenting the cashier/waitress/etc if it means getting a discount or better service. That benefits you, too! So what if he makes a few jokes about “my s/o saw you from across the bar and really digged your vibe” and the like. He isn’t serious, not like he is with you, and he’s happy to spend all night proving it to you.

Ritsu

Bad End: Somehow he knows everything about everyone you've been around, talked to, dated, etc. He's pulling receipts. You spent 20 minutes talking to X. Tell me what it was about. You went to this place before our date but it's outside of your routine and I don't see any reason for you to have been there. Please explain clearly why you went and what you did there. He probably has a full dossier on you and he keeps it meticulously updated and you can know about it if you want, but it's probably beyond your understanding so he'll only let you glance at it before he's locking it back up. He wants to draft up contracts, probably, and might even try to get restraining orders for you against people he feels are threats to you and your relationship. And if you're upset about it? Well, you already agreed to section 14 clause B, so if you break up with him now you'll suffer the consequences of breaching your contract. What are the consequences? That's another thick binder, you don't need to read it because you won’t have anything to do with it as long as you don't break your obligations to him.

Good End: He's still very organized and detail oriented, but he's also like: Okay, if I have proof of you cheating, I'm obligated to break our contract- I mean relationship. Essentially the same thing. He doesn't feel as much of a need to obsessively watch over you since he feels confident in the terms he laid out and your verbal agreement to abide by them. If you hang out with someone else, you should tell him what went on and know that if you're found committing perjury or in contempt of the court (okay Ritsu, same thing), then he's breaking up with you. He trusts you but still needs clear communication.

Tohma

Bad End: He always knows where you are and who you’re with and he knows everything about them, too. Interesting that you were hanging out with a known playboy, did you really think he cared about you or are you just as bad as he is? No, that’s not an insult, he’s merely asking. - Tohma asks leading questions and gets you confused so you end up saying exactly what he wants you to say, even if it’s not the truth. Yes I was no I wasn’t here or there or?? And then he’s holding your hand delicately and kissing the back of it and telling you not to worry so much, it’s easy to make mistakes, but that’s why he’s here to help you. For most of the people he doesn’t like you hanging around, he has a reason to convince you to stay away from them. He's not above paying someone off or threatening them or blackmailing them to stay away from you. You get so flustered and upset when you’re confused and uncertain, so he’ll just take all of that uncertainty out of your life. If that means that all you have is him and his hand selected friend group for you, that’s good enough for you both, right?

Good End: He’s still surveilling everything and somehow knows that that person you’re talking to has 2 DUIs, but he just offers this information to you when he really thinks it's dangerous. Like, if you’re hanging out w/ Mr. Drink and Drive, he won’t necessarily say anything unless you’re going to be going out with him to drink and or drive somewhere. In which case, Tohma will tell you that he uncovered some concerning information about their ability to drink responsibly and ask that you use your best judgement. If you choose to still go somewhere potentially dangerous with them, he’ll just do what he has to to keep you safe there and make his disagreement known, but he won’t force you to do anything unless he really thinks that you are walking into inevitable danger. It’s really less jealousy and more being an overbearing and overprotective boyfriend who would baby proof your apartment for you if you so much as tripped over your own misplaced shoes once.

Sho

Bad End: It starts with you hanging out as a trio: Sho, Leo, and you. It's fine at first, and he pretends it doesn't bother him when Leo is snuggling up to you or jokingly calling you their s/o. He just pulls you away and holds you close and tells Leo to back off and Leo laughs and acts like he wasn't even being serious. And then you have inside jokes with Leo, and not him, and you're invited to hang out with Leo alone, and sometimes Sho walks into a room and he SWEARS that you two were talking about him before he walked in. Over time, he can't help but feel every action of possession towards you is just humoring Leo, who really has you, but he also knows the second he stops wanting you or admits his loss, Leo will get bored and throw you aside like an old toy. Only Leo doesn't let his toys go for someone else to pick up and enjoy. He breaks them so no one would ever be able to love them again. So Sho stays and deals and shares you and never feels like he really ever has you, but he can't let you go or you'll be ruined forever.

Good End: He's not too worried. He does his own things, has his own friends, his own plans, and he'd kind of think less of you if you lived exclusively for him. If you want to go out with friends, even if it's with other guys, he's fine, he just makes sure to kiss you extra messily before you part ways for the night and tells you you better not go forgetting about him while you're away. As if you could after that. The only person he kind of gets bothered by is Leo, and that's more for your safety than because he's afraid of you cheating on him or falling for Leo. He knows him and he knows that even though Leo is his friend, maybe even specifically because he is, he wouldn't hesitate to use and manipulate you. So Sho tells you to keep your distance (as much as that's possible) from him. He does also want to meet anyone that you get close to are already are close to, partially to make his own judgement about their intentions and partially to be ready to put on a show of treating you better than they ever could.

Haru

Bad End: Two words: Guilt Trip. Oh, you wanted to hang out with someone else today? That's fine! He'll tell Peekaboo and the other animals you're too busy to see them. They're animals so they won't really understand, but he'll do his best to love them enough for the loss in your affection. And wow, that other friend of yours, you hang out with them a lot. Should he be worried? Haha! Just a joke! He wasn't serious, you're responsible and you wouldn't abandon him and everyone else when they need you. You're not a bad person like that. - So you end up canceling plans with other people and staying with Haru. You can't stand putting more on his plate… he also has a tracker on your phone and asks where you were in a casual way so if you say something else, he's like. Weird! That's not what I thought, but you'd never lie to me, so I guess I can trust you! (He does not.) It just gets to the point where you’re not sure how much he knows, because he never really admits how much he does, but he always seems to know more than he’s letting on.

Good End: He doesn't MEAN to guilt trip you with sad pictures of Peekaboo when you're out with other people, he does just miss you and he's worried he's too much for you to handle and feels like he has to convince you that you love him. You can tell him he doesn't have to worry about it, you like spending time with him and he's your priority, but just like he needs to sometimes put his job first or go hang out at Rui's bar, you need to spend time with other friends and do things on your own! He still can be a bit clingy, wanting to know where you are, who you’re with, making sure they’re not hitting on you or anything because he KNOWS you’re a catch, but you can just calmly redirect that energy and he’ll cool himself off. He’s not unreasonable!

Lyca

Bad End: He's a territorial dog through and through. He doesn't like anyone touching what is his, he doesn't want anyone encroaching on your space, and he is very sensitive to you smelling like anything he isn't familiar with. He will cause a fuss and jump to violence if someone gets handsy with you, even if it's innocent, friendly, and consented to by you. A friend hugs you? No, nope, that's not okay. Your HIS favorite and no one is going to take you from him. Mostly, it stems from a place of fear of losing you, of being abandoned again. He doesn't see you as completely innocent the way some of the others might, and it's a toss up whether he's mad at you or mad at the other person. Why would you try to leave him? Why would you let someone take you away from him? Why does everyone abandon him?? Even at his worst, I don't see him wanting to lock you away or anything since he knows from experience how awful that is, but he would insist on accompanying you everywhere.

Good End: He's still a dog and he's still afraid of you leaving him, but he has people like Subaru who talk him down and convince him that it's okay if you have other people in your life! Lyca does too, and that doesn't make you less meaningful to him. He doesn't like strangers (to him) getting too close to you, so you really do have to do that introducing him through a door to your other friends thing, the same as you would for a new pet. And you probably have to make some allowances around letting him take some of your clothes to snuggle up with when you're away.

Kaito 

Bad End: Everyone is a threat to his relationship with you and he’s a swinging pendulum between overreacting on the spot and trying a number of things to prove you’re with him OR going home and sobbing into his pillows, preparing for the inevitable “we should see other people” text. He will overreact, realize he overreacted, and then send you a slew of texts apologizing, explaining himself, apologizing for the mass of texts, and then being like oh haha lol my phone fell and typed all that, you can just delete those texts… He gets really stuck in his head about it all and will start begging you to not leave him and just tell him what he can do to be good enough for you. It doesn't matter what you say, how many friendships you cut off, how much time you spend with him- he's never going to think he's worthy enough for you and he's never going to trust that you aren't trying to move on.

Good End: He still struggles with trying to prove his worth and being very easily upset about perceived disloyalty. He's easier to talk down though, and you just need one good conversation to tell him that you love him, you want to be with him, and if he feels threatened or unsure, he should tell you first and not try to “fix” problems in your relationship that aren't even there. He feels better after that, and he has a long way to go to gain more self confidence and even trust in others, but he definitely can do it with time and effort.

Rui

Bad End: He's very torn. On one hand, he loves you, he's grateful for you being in his life, and he knows if he COULD, he'd take such perfect care of you that you wouldn't even be able to think about leaving him for anyone else. On the other hand…he knows he has one big limitation, and hates to think that you would suffer from his curse as well. So he convinces himself that it's fine if you're intimate with someone else. He can't touch you, but that doesn't mean you should go untouched. He'll agree if you want an open relationship and it will absolutely devastate him but he'll smile through it. He'll just be perfect whenever you're with him, never disagreeing, always complimenting and praising you, never giving you any reason to want to leave him. It gets to the point where he's acting in every single situation with you, completely overwhelmed with nightmares of your relationships with others, but desperate not to lose what little he has of you. 

Good End: He's still suffering from some insecurities about what he can't give you, and does try to overcompensate in every other field of romance to try to make up for it. For your part, you just have to make it clear that you DON'T want anyone else, that you will make it work with him, and the lack of intimacy might suck but it hopefully won't be permanent and you'll wait for him! This sentiment is so earth shattering for him he wants to just pick you up and spin you around on the spot (but he won't, don't worry). He still gets some worries every once in a while, but do the Pushing Daisies thing where you kiss him through cling wrap and share sweets and drinks with him for “indirect kisses” and sweetly ask to sleep in his clothes to be close to him and he'll be able to let go of a lot of his pressing worries.

Ren

Bad End: He has bad coping mechanisms and he's very pessimistic and negative. Of course he sees you walking with someone else and he convinces himself you're cheating on him. He doesn't go straight at you with this, though. He starts with making self deprecating comments like, “Yeah whatever, of course you're late. Why would you be on time for me when you were having such a good time with someone else?”  and then specifically name-dropping this other person like asking if you had a good time with them, even if you weren't with them, and he's like rolling his eyes when you deny it. It goes so far and he becomes completely convinced that you're cheating on him, but… he doesn't want to break up with you. He keeps complaining and when you snap and you're like fine! If you don't trust me at all, why are you even with me? That's when he's hugging you too tightly and saying it's fine, he can put up with it, just don't leave him, he'll still be your boyfriend even if you're a cheating whore- he didn't mean that.

Good End: he's still jealous and jumps to the worst conclusions, but you talk to him! Because communication truly works wonders. And you can tell him you have other friends but only one Ren 💜 and he says you're cheesy but he feels better. Just when you're out and you run into anyone who he has suspicions about, it's best to be a little annoying with how much PDA you're showing him. Like hold his hand and snuggle up to him and call him terrible pet names and he HATES it but he also feels so very comforted by it all. There are still plenty of times where he talks shit about other people he doesn't like you hanging out with though, so try not to take too much offense and just clearly remind him he's being a dick and you're about to spray him with water if he doesn't stop it.

Leo

Bad End: Honestly, he's offended that you're making him feel this way. What kind of abusive gaslighter are you to be manipulating him into being worried about your loyalty to him? He's the victim. How are you going to fix it? - That's what he does to you. He uses his own (overacted) feelings to make you feel guilty and morally in the wrong so you fawn over him and apologize and try to make up with him. He'll let you grovel and beg and he'll sniffle through fake tears and pet your head and tell you that you're lucky he's so forgiving, no one else would put up with how bad a person you are. He's really a saint for taking you back after you talked to and smiled at that barista today. You won't do that again, right? You won't talk to anyone he doesn't want you talking to? You won't go out without him?

And… well, since you were an adulterous cheater… it's only fair he gets to have his fun without you, right? 

Good End: I mean he's still a dick but you don't let him get into your head. No, bitch, I was not hitting on the cashier at Walgreens, I was buying Plan B because SOMEONE claims to be allergic to latex. He does like pushing your buttons and it's hard to tell exactly when he's seriously jealous (Why would he ever be jealous about you? They're only hitting on you to get to him, obvi). He does plenty behind the scenes, posting you but never your face, keeping your information extremely private and impossible to get to, blackmailing anyone who might know you personally and risks letting anything out. He's doing it for his image, not yours. Okay, maybe it’s a little bit for your image, he can’t be seen dating trash.

Bonus: Even though he is possessive, he would scheme to get you to do things with Sho. He's like I don't care, treat him like a toy I bought you 💜 I’ll watch and help you get the most use out of him.

YANDERE LEVEL!!! Consider them tied for first place:

Yuri

Bad End: Yikes! You just became this doctor's most favorite lab subject! And since you're his favorite, you can't be sullied by the dirty, germ ridden worms outside. You should stay with him, and he'll take care of you, especially because you're so sick. You weren't sick when he fell for you, but you keep getting worse and you're sooo grateful that he takes such good care of you. It's terrible that you ended up bedridden for days after seeing your childhood friend or favorite coworker or someone else you USED to be close to, but he makes your medicine specifically for you and keeps your room at the perfect temperature. Could you ask for a more doting boyfriend? He reminds you that your condition worsens when you go out in public, so he'll supervise any visits anyone wants to make to you. And don't cry that no one has been coming for the last few weeks! They weren't good enough for you (he denied their requests to visit). He's all you need. Really, you won’t even see Jiro after a while, but it won’t matter because you can’t even get out of bed without Yuri to help you.

Good End: He's so insecure and his grandiose act is an act, it's fake it till you make it theatrics. He will swat at Jiro and scold him like there won't be a tomorrow if poor Jiro talks to you or tries to do anything physical towards you in your checkups. Yuri has to be your ONLY doctor, he can do all of it! Please let him do all of it. He assumes you're looking for someone better, so he's constantly trying to convince you he's the best or that you have to only have eyes for him. Even in the good end, he is trying to forbid you from going to certain places (Frostheim) because he's afraid you'll leave him. He wants you to just stay in the lab or otherwise nearby so he can see you on his time and make sure you're not talking to anyone else out there… He just doesn't deal with jealousy well, but it stems from severe insecurities more than anything for him.

Taiga

Bad End: Till death do us part, kitty-cat. When he commits you to memory it's over for you. He'll drag you out of any situation he doesn't like you being in, making sure to show off the entire time that you are absolutely not an option to anyone but him. He's very quick to violence and will be covered in blood and horny more often than anyone really should be. He doesn't really care about your agency in things. You pissed him off and made him jealous, but it's not you who he's going to punish. He's going to beat the other person until they're unrecognizable, and he'll keep doing it until you get it through your head that he was dead serious about death being the only thing that's getting you away from him. Kind of jealous where he reacts poorly and then holds your head still so you have to look at the consequences and he's like, that's all you, kitten. That's what you made me do. If you don't like it, don't piss me off again.

Good End: he's still easily jealous, and he wants to react with violence, but you're not into that and you can convince him it's not worth his time. So he'll make some threats and that's normally enough to get people to stay away from you both. He likes when you hang around with him, his pretty little kitty, but he also gets in moods where he wants to be alone and can't put up with another person so he's not too bothered when you hang out with friends. As long as they don't put any moves on you and you're in his bed at the end of the day, you can do what you want. Just if anyone asks, you're his. No arguments or they're getting shot.

bonus: Probably would be willing to share you with Lulu, just he wants to watch or be involved as well. His two pretty kittens <3 

Towa 

Bad End: oh baby he's killing the competition. He doesn't even hesitate. Someone dares put their hands on you? Lightning strike. Anomalous animal attack. Poison in the water supply. He does not have patience with dealing with people who, to him, want to ruin your love story and hurt you. He doesn't really acknowledge your agency in most things. You're his sweet little Dandelion and those disgusting people are trying to take you away from him. Don't worry, he'll protect you and you can go right back to being his obedient little love. You're not pushing him away, you're just brainwashed by those evil people. Just stay close to him (you don't have a choice) and he'll put it all right again.

Also…he wants Haru in the love story too. He's like the kid slamming his dolls together to make them kiss, so congrats on two boyfriends? Towa’s very doting towards both of you even if he forgets that you can't survive off eating flowers and sometimes you need to sleep.

Good End: He can be the kind of “cute” jealous where he's pouting, wrapping his arms around you, biting you for attention and to assert dominance, even throwing things at people who he's bothered by. You can scold him but he's just biting you harder now and trying to drag you away where you won't be bothered by the mean people who are interrupting his time with his Dandelion. He doesn't really GET the boundaries you try to set, but if you word it right, then he'll respect them. You think he's respecting them, at least. You don't see him poisoning people behind your back. 

He still wants you and Haru to be together too though, so, I mean again, congratulations on the two boyfriends even if Haru is politely excusing himself and apologizing whenever Towa tries to initiate a threesome. Is this a good end? Towa is just kind of Like That. Godspeed.

Jin 

Bad End: It starts slow, he wants to know why you were late. Who were you with? And then he wants to check your phone and read your texts. And then you don't know when he's reading your texts because he set something up that gives him access to your phone whenever he wants. And then people you thought were your friends don't want to talk to you anymore and actually seem a bit afraid being around you at all. And then you're upset and you don't know who else to go to but Jin, who says they're all good for nothing assholes and you don't need them.

And then there's really no reason for you to go to classes or have a job. All you're good for is being his servant, and you like it, right? Because he buys you things, specifically jewelry that you can't take off yourself, bracelets that feel like handcuffs and necklaces that feel like collars. But more than that, you just like being his. It’s easier to not have to use your little brain to make bad decisions. So just stay with him, do what he says, and he'll take care of you.

Good End: It starts the same way as the bad end, but you call him on his shit. He doesn't need to know all of these details and if he does, you'll tell him. He needs to trust you or else he needs to break up with you. He might break up with you, because he's mad that you're being insubordinate and then a few days later he's texting you to come to his room and he's like…whatever, that argument was stupid. You can’t be dumb enough to want anyone else when you have the best anyone can get. (Come cuddle with me before I go crazy.) You have to put up with a level of his emotional immaturity to be with him, but he'll mellow out a bit over time with the jealousy. He'll be more amused at people he thinks are lesser than him trying to hit on you and kind of just likes to mess with them instead of being straight to social ruin and murder. Anyone he actually feels is a threat though, that'll be an argument if you want to keep them in your life because he's stubborn and arrogant and knows he's right.

Romeo

Bad End: No, he's not jealous. He doesn't let himself get to that point because when he sees you with someone else and he doesn't like it? Get in the cage. Lol. No, I'm not joking. Definition of possessive. He doesn't like you talking to his subordinates even when he tells you to. He doesn't want you going out of his sight, and honestly, it's easier for him to keep you protected if you just never leave your room. Your room being one that he's made up for you, decorated, and fitted with security cameras so he can check on whenever he wants. 

He just wants to hold you and brush your hair for you and pick out outfits for you and let you lay around in perfect luxury. And if you want to leave? You don't need to walk as long anymore. You're not going anywhere. (Guy who cuts your Achilles tendon so you can't walk. There, I said it.)

Good End: He's so jealous. He's snapping at anyone who gets too close to you or you get too close to yourself. He is demanding to check your texts so he knows you're not talking to people he wouldn't approve of. This is toxic as all hell, so you can (risk your life) tell him he needs to CHILL. Like you'd waste your time with someone else when you already have the prettiest boyfriend alive. He likes the ego stroking and he can't deny the logic, he's not dating an idiot. You just have to make sure you're giving him enough reassurance that you don't have any interest in anyone else, and sometimes let him let off that insanely jealous energy by threatening someone. I know this is labeled “good end” and he's still toxic but this is good for Romeo okay, Romeo fans aren't trying to get with him because he's been to therapy. You know why you're here.

[avatar-anna]

Snooze

sza deserves all the grammys this year i said what i said

Hockey Player! Harry x Figure Skater! Reader

*.*

"You're an idiot, Styles."

Harry tried to respond, but hissed as Y/n dabbed the cut near his eye. "Easy, there. I know you have gentler hands than that."

Y/n huffed, moving onto his split lip. Harry was sitting on top of her bathroom counter as she cleaned up his cuts from the fight he got into at his game an hour ago. She hadn't gone, and had been surprised when Harry showed up at her doorstep battered and bruised, a bag of frozen peas pressed to his cheek. They weren't supposed to see each other tonight, but Y/n didn't have time to think about the fact that Harry had come to her for help when they only had been sleeping together for two weeks now.

"Should've gone somewhere else if you wanted gentle," Y/n said, her words coming out icier than she'd intended. Perhaps she was overcompensating to cover up the fact that she didn't like seeing him hurt, but she quickly pushed that thought away until it was practically non-existent. "What the hell were you fighting about anyway?"

Harry had mentioned the fight was enough to get him thrown out of the game, but he didn't say what had pushed him to start it in the first place. Y/n had joined her friends at a handful of hockey games, and each time Harry was a cocky little shit on the ice, sometimes shoving an opponent around or getting in their face, but it was never anything serious. He was a lot of things, but Y/n never considered him to be the overly violent type. She didn't imagine any small thing would've caused him to lose it on someone, especially if it affected his team negatively.

Harry shrugged, but Y/n saw the dark look that crossed his face as he recalled the fight. "Some asshole on the other team was talking shit. I put a stop to it."

Definitely vague, but Y/n had no idea why. She didn't see any reason why he would have to hide his reason for getting in a fight during one of his games. "Well, I hope you got a few good hits in."

"Careful, Princess. You're starting to sound like you care about little old me."

Y/n blushed at Harry's sly grin. Something fluttered in her stomach, but she ignored it, opting to press just a little harder on the cut on his lip. "No. I just had it in my head that I was going to sit on your face tonight, and now I can't."

The look of pure disappointment on Harry's face left Y/n feeling perfectly pleased with herself. She couldn't help the way she swelled with pride at how much he wanted her. She wasn't really sure what that meant, but she didn't feel like putting much thought into it for now.

When Harry tried to lean in for a kiss, his hands, bruised knuckles and all, reaching out for her waist, Y/n stepped out of his grasp. She left the bathroom and headed for the kitchen, returning with an ice pack and tossing it to Harry. "You can crash here tonight if you want," she said. "You know, concussion protocol and everything."

The look Harry gave her was one Y/n couldn't read, but it made her squirm, so she disappeared out of the bathroom once again. Harry didn't follow, so she assumed he was just wrapping up or something. In the meantime, she went to her room, rustling through the stack of vinyls next to her desk before settling on one and and putting on her record player. It crackled for a moment, then music erupted from the speakers, filling Y/n's bedroom and putting her at ease a bit. The truth was, seeing Harry roughed up didn't sit well with her. She worried for him, felt bad that she wasn't there. And she didn't expect to feel that way, she didn't like it. Harry had joked earlier that she was starting to care about him, and that sent her nerves skittering too. That wasn't what this was.

Harry came in a few minutes later, setting his duffle bag in its usual place and picking his way through the dim glow of the twinkly lights. He slipped into bed next to Y/n, kissing up and down her neck and shoulders as he slipped his hands under her sleep shirt. Y/n tilted her head back to kiss him, not really thinking about the cut on his bottom lip. Harry winced a little, but didn't pull away. She did, though, brushing her thumb over his lip gently.

"Sorry," she mumbled. "Maybe we should—"

"No, it's okay. I like the pain," Harry said, and Y/n couldn't tell if he was joking or not. Honestly, it was probably both.

The record continued to play, the melody easing the tension out of both of their shoulders and relaxing Y/n in a way it always did. "No more split lips. I don't like tasting blood when I kiss you."

"I see," Harry said, but there was something in his tone that made her brow furrow. It was the same knowing look he'd given her in her bathroom, but she still couldn't quite make sense of it. It felt like he knew something she didn't, like he saw right through the walls around her heart and knew how she really felt.

Flicking her eyes away from that piercing gaze of his, she shuffled around on her bed, inching down Harry's body as her fingers traced his lithe frame as she went. Harry tried to question her actions, but his voice dissolved into a moan before he could do so. Y/n didn't want to think anymore, didn't want to worry, didn't want her thoughts to travel into territory she considered dangerous. She just wanted him.

Harry's hand found the back of her head, content in her plan to leave the events of the night behind them. He murmured words of encouragement, talking her through it all and guiding her head and caressing her cheek gently with his thumb. The longer she pleasured him, the more that swell of pride came back in full force. She preened at each little reaction he had to her touch, causing her to smile as best she could in her current position.

When it was all said and done, Harry rested his head against Y/n's chest, his breaths deep and slow as the record's first side fizzled to an end. Y/n tried not to think too much into the position they'd found themselves in, or the way lying together felt just as right as having sex did. Her heart flipped as Harry sleepily mumbled, "Thanks for taking care of me," his voice so slurred she wondered if he would remember saying it in the morning.

Y/n couldn't find sleep as she wondered if she wanted him to or not.

*.*

Harry hadn't been a relationship very long, but he thought it was safe to say that he knew when his newly minted girlfriend was positively seething.

Y/n had somehow managed to sit on top of the kitchen counter, and he could see her staring from the doorway that led to the main room of his apartment where he was involved in a particularly intense drinking game. He knew why she was stewing over there, why her fingers tightly gripped the drink he'd gotten for her earlier. They were together now, but it wasn't like they made a formal announcement to anyone, so sometimes a girl would try to flirt at a party or a guy would get a little too comfortable around Y/n.

Neither of them liked to share, but Y/n wasn't as up front about it as Harry tended to be; he preferred to quietly seethe and let her bad mood settle over her while he had no problem letting people know he was hers. He didn't like this girl pressing up against him more than Y/n did, but every time he tried to put distance between them around the table, she just kept inching back to him. Harry fancied himself a gentleman and didn't want to embarrass the freshman by telling her point blank he wasn't interested, but she hadn't taken the subtle hints he was throwing her way, and he wanted to go to sleep a happy boyfriend.

The game wrapped up quickly and Harry did his best to try to get away from the table and head toward Y/n, but a hand rested on his bicep, causing him to turn around to look down at the young woman who'd been flirting with him the entirety of the game. Before she could get a word out, Harry was quick to shut her down. "I have a girlfriend."

"I don't see her," she said, her thumb smoothing over his shirtsleeve, but he quickly shrugged out of her grip and nodded to where he knew Y/n was watching the exchange take place.

And Harry felt it was an important distinction that his girlfriend was staring down the girl, not him.

Y/n's legs were crossed, causing her mini skirt to ride up her legs a couple inches. She wore tights underneath, but Harry only found it hotter. Everything about her turned him on, even the amused raise of her brows as she stared down the freshman who was still standing a little too close for her liking.

A lot was said in that look, and Harry could practically feel the chill from it, even when it wasn't necessarily directed at him. But it did the trick. The girl stepped back, a deep blush staining her cheeks. "Sorry, I'll just..."

And then she was gone, swallowed up by the crowd in search of someone available. Shaking his head, Harry maneuvered his way through his apartment, avoiding the throngs of people who bumped into him and got in his way. He didn't often have parties at his apartment, but tonight was his roommate's birthday, so now there was a hoard of people milling around his living room. He was just glad he had a lock on his door.

That look of irritation thinly veiled by amusement still danced in Y/n's eyes when Harry finally reached her. He was quick to tap her chin with his knuckle, settling one arm on the counter space beside her. "Ease up, tiger. I'm all yours, you know that."

"These underclassmen are bold," was all she said. The base of an R&B song thumped through the apartment, but this close together, Harry could hear her just fine. It was one of Y/n's favorite, and he could tell by the gentle sway of her body that she wasn't as mad as she was letting on.

Very gently, but with enough purpose and a look in his eyes that had Y/n's frosty exterior melting a little, he uncrossed her legs and settled in between them. "You didn't want to come save me?"

Harry took a sip of Y/n's drink when she offered it to him, running a hand through his hair idly. Most days he wore one baseball cap or another on his head, but recently he'd been going without one, perhaps on the off chance that his girlfriend's hands would find their way to his hair and play with it. "What did you want me to do? Go over there and shove my tongue down your throat?"

"I mean...I wouldn't have been opposed."

Sometimes Y/n came off as cold or a little standoffish, at least to those who didn't know her. She was just guarded, but every time Harry managed to put a smile on her face was worth it, each one a mini victory. There was a side to her that only he really knew, and he valued that nearly above everything else in their budding relationship.

"Noted," she said, crossing her arms around his neck. This close, Harry couldn't really do much but breathe in the smell of her perfume and nudge the sensitive skin of her neck with his nose. He swore he could just get drunk on the feel of her alone. Y/n hummed and leaned into him a little more before saying, "I like this song."

"Yeah?" Harry already knew, but he thought it was cute that she felt the need to tell him. As if he wasn't constantly cataloging all the little details that made up who she was.

Y/n nodded, pulling his head up by his hair so his eyes could meet hers. They were practically nose to nose, and he couldn't help the ridiculous smile that spread across his face as he looked into her eyes.

"What's that look for?" she asked.

I'm in love with you. It was the first time the thought had ever occurred to him, but he realized it was true. Harry was in love with Y/n. He'd liked her for a long time, as more than someone he just slept with, but he could tell that Y/n was a little slower to warm up to the idea of Harry being more than just a fuck buddy, so he took what she was willing to give him and bided his time. Now that he knew her even more, that he was able to be more to her, his heart unfurled like a flower in bloom.

Jesus, my teammates would roast the shit out of me if they heard me talking like this, he thought. Then, he realized he never answered Y/n's question. Clearing his throat, he gave her a quick kiss. "Come to bed with me? We can get up early tomorrow and get a morning skate in."

That, above everything, made Y/n's smile widen, and Harry couldn't fight his own when she crossed her legs behind his back and practically leaped into his arms.

*.*

Y/n didn't realize how someone could be so...perfect.

Before Harry waltzed his way into her life, she'd never done the whole relationship thing. She was too focused on skating, on her desire to be the best, to get distracted by things like boys and dates and hand-holding, by things like love. But Harry was just...well, he was unexpected. Now, years later, he was everything to her.

It started out with the small things. In school, he met her early in the morning for training, where she would do laps or work on tricks she was still struggling to master while he watched and reminded her to get water, or he would do drills while she reminded him of the same. They sat in ice baths together or helped each other stretch out their sore muscles, helped each other meal prep or make dinners that were beneficial to both their needs.

And then he became just as important to her off the ice. Harry made a point of reminding Y/n of balance, of enjoying herself outside the rink. They went on dates, studied together in the library, and volunteered at the community center to teach younger kids how to skate. When they were in school, Y/n and Harry had become some sort of unit, and that fact had only made her smile, not run away and hide like she originally thought it would.

Harry used to make her blood boil, now she didn't want to know what life would look like without him.

Currently, Harry was in the kitchen making breakfast. His back was to her, bearing the harsh red marks she left on his skin from last night. The sight made her cheeks flush, though she knew if Harry were to spot the various hickeys on her skin, or the still healing red marks around her wrists, his usual charming grin would become more sly and smug.

Leaning against the counter, Y/n watched Harry do his thing in content. He moved around their kitchen like he'd been there for years when in reality they'd only just moved in a couple months ago. Their previous apartment post-graduation was little more than a closet with a bathroom and a stove. Being in the minor leagues, Harry was offered accommodations with the rest of his team, but he declined so he could live with Y/n, and his paychecks, in the beginning, weren't nearly enough to live comfortably in a metropolitan city.

In some ways, Y/n missed their old apartment. It was way too tiny, the heat barely worked, and the neighborhood wasn't the greatest, but it was theirs, a piece of their history. She liked having to snuggle up so close to Harry simply to keep warm, liked the sweet old man and his little dog that Y/n watched occasionally for extra cash. Now their apartment was perfectly insulated, and their bed was big enough that sometimes it felt like there was too much space, and she wasn't quite sure about her new neighbors yet.

It was good. With Harry, things were always good. It was just different, and Y/n had always had a hard time adjusting to change. She would get there eventually, she just needed to warm up to their new home a bit more.

The expansive kitchen space was a good start, though.

Harry was humming to himself, an R&B song they both loved. His voice was deep and gravelly, and not just because he'd just woken up. Judging by the to-go cups on the kitchen island, he'd been up for a while. No, that was just his natural singing voice, and Y/n would've been irked that her boyfriend just had to be good at everything if his voice didn't make her toes curl.

"You're chipper this morning," she said, finally announcing her presence.

Harry turned around and smiled before turning back to whatever needed his attention at the stove. Y/n took that as her cue to walk over to him, her arms slipping around his waist. She kissed the spot between his shoulder blades, his skin warm despite not having a shirt on. Harry felt solid beneath her touch, but soft enough that she comfortably rested her cheek against him.

He continued to hum, one hand covering Y/n's while the other tended to their breakfast. When he was almost done, she let go and helped Harry get plates and utensils, setting up shop at their dining table while he brought their food over. The table was also a new addition to their home. Before, they just ate at the tiny counter that separated the kitchen from the rest of the apartment, not having enough room for a proper table and chairs.

Harry pulled Y/n into his lap before she could even think about sitting in her own chair. She turned in her spot and looked down at him with raised eyebrows. "Why did we buy multiple chairs when we only ever use the one?"

It was a joke. Y/n didn't mind sitting on Harry's lap. His schedule was so hectic that sometimes it was weeks before he was able to come home and spend proper time with her. Being this close made up for lost time, and both of them were eager to be apart as little as possible during the off-season.

But Harry responded with an answer that made Y/n pause because she couldn't tell whether he was joking with her or being serious.

"For the kids, obviously."

She tried her hardest not to stiffen when he would be able to feel it. They'd never discussed kids. Ever. And Y/n couldn't tell if he was testing the waters or if he was genuinely being facetious.

"I don't know if sitting in your lap in front of our children would be very appropriate." Y/n managed to add a little sarcasm in her voice, unsure of where this conversation was going. Then, because she wasn't a woman scared of feelings and difficult conversations anymore, she said, "You've never talked about that before."

"About what?"

She leveled Harry with a flat look. "You know what."

Harry shrugged, clearly not as thrown off by this as Y/n was. "Is it a bad thing if I say I want to have your babies one day?"

Babies? As in plural? "Let's just focus on one for now," she said.

"Alright. One. I want a baby," Harry said plainly. "Not like now, or anything, but, like, in the future. I want that to be a step for us somewhere down the line."

Y/n knew Harry wasn't being pushy by being blunt. This was how they spoke when having serious conversations. No beating around the bush, no guessing at subtext or tones or anything like that. They just spoke in clear, declarative statements, though Y/n hadn't imagined having this particular conversation anytime soon.

She just didn't think Harry was there yet. She didn't know if she was there yet. They'd just moved into this apartment, and Harry was blowing up as a rookie in the NHL. Y/n was just getting her feet on the ground as a sports psychologist, with a little bit of coaching on the side because even with a full-time job she still couldn't live her life without skating multiple times a week. She just didn't think a baby fit into their lives right now, not with how they barely had time for each other as it was.

"Tell me what you're thinking," Harry said. He didn't seem put off by her lack of response to what he'd said, though that was probably because he was probably used to it by now.

"I'm not...opposed to the idea," Y/n said, because she really wasn't. If there was one person in this world that she wanted to raise a child with, it would be Harry. She could picture it if she allowed her mind to wander far enough—teaching them how to skate and bundling them up to watch Harry's home games, first Christmases and snow days and first steps at a hockey arena, skating recitals or hockey games where Harry would coach. It was a nice daydream.

"But?" Harry asked, his shoulders tensing, as if waiting for the blow.

"But nothing. I just think...I think I still want to be a little selfish and have you all to myself for a little while longer. I hardly get to see you as it is, you know? A baby would change our whole dynamic, and I feel like I'm finally settling into this new life here. Just the two of us."

Harry nodded. He didn't look disappointed, which filled Y/n with relief. She didn't want to upset him with her answer, but that was where she was at.

"I...agree," Harry finally said. "You made a good point there. I can't compete with a baby for your attention. That wouldn't be fair to the baby."

Y/n threw her head back and laughed. "No, it wouldn't. So we're in agreement then."

"Just you and me. For now."

"For now."

Harry leaned in to kiss her, and Y/n melted against him the second his lips were on hers. He groaned a little as she shifted in his lap before standing up and hauling her away from the breakfast he'd made and the table that started this whole conversation. Y/n didn't protest as he set her down on their bed, hands making quick work of the low slung sweatpants that rested on his hips. Harry brought his hand down between her legs, brows raising at how wet she was.

"Already?"

Y/n propped herself on her elbows and shrugged. "Your singing turned me on earlier."

"Really," Harry said, marveling at the revelation.

"Don't let it get to your head. I also think it's annoying how good you are at everything," she said.

Harry grinned before settling between her legs, his arms circling around her thighs to hold her in the exact way he wanted her. Y/n didn't want to talk anymore, but her boyfriend was a cocky little shit, and she knew she had to wait for him to finish basking in the compliment before they moved on.

"Hm. Maybe Harry Jr. will inherit my talents and become a singer."

"Harry Jr?"

"Or Harriet," Harry mused.

Y/n nudged his shoulder with her foot to bring him out of his reverie. "Look at me H. Not gonna happen."

Shrugging, Harry focused back on the task at hand. "Don't worry, Princess. I'll wear you down. I've got time to convince you."

*.*

Harry could hear the harsh, echoey footsteps of someone running through the halls of the arena, but he didn't open his eyes to see who it was. He didn't have to.

"Jesus, H," Y/n breathed when she skidded to a stop at his side. She sounded frantic, panicked. It was a voice he didn't hear often from his fiance.

To the athletic trainer on his other side, she asked, "Why is he just laying here? He needs to go to the hospital. Get off your ass and call an ambulance before—"

"Easy, Princess. We're waiting for the team doctor."

When Harry finally opened his eyes, just barely as the harsh light of the athletic trainer's office caused his head to throb, Y/n was already looking down at where he laid on the exam bed. There was a lot of raw emotion going through her all at once, Harry could see it on her face. He knew it wasn't long before she fell back on her default setting and shut down completely, hiding behind harsh words and a cold exterior.

"You—"

"I'm fine, bub, I promise," Harry said, though the nausea stirring in his gut at having his eyes open for too long wasn't a good sign. He probably had a concussion. He'd hit his head pretty hard when he fell on the ice, but he thought the sharp pain in his ribs was the major concern. Now he wasn't so sure.

"Don't be a hero," Y/n snapped, but he didn't take it personally. Then, she turned her steely gaze on the athletic trainer—a new hire who was on their own for the first time tonight—and said, "Call. An. Ambulance."

Harry shifted his focus to they young trainer, who looked like they were about to shit themselves under the weight of his fiance's stare. "I—I can't—We have to wait—"

Their gulp was audible as they struggled to string enough words together to form a sentence, which only set Y/n's eyes ablaze even more. Harry knew she was scared, he was sure that his fall looked a lot worse than it actually was. But she couldn't turn the new trainer into a puddle of tears. Not again.

"Y/n, look at me."

Harry watched as her eyes stayed trained on the athletic trainer for a few more seconds before sliding her gaze down to his. He could see the fear behind all that anger and toughness, and he carefully took her hand in his so he could kiss the diamond on her left ring finger. "I'm okay," he said again. "The team doctor is on his way, but we're probably looking at a minor concussion and some cracked ribs. That's all."

"That's all?"

Wrong choice of words. "I said minor, didn't I?"

The truth was the hit Harry took on the ice was one of the worst he'd experienced in his professional career. It was a total accident, just too much momentum between him and a player on the opposing team. But it sent Harry careening across the ice, punching the breath out of his lungs and knocking his helmet right off.

"Sit down and take some deep breaths while we wait for the doctor," Harry tried again. "You're gonna stress out the baby."

Y/n's hand instinctively went to her belly, resting their joined hands over the little bump there. In one of Harry's jerseys, it was hard to feel it through the thick material, but he could, and despite the pain he was in, his heart leaped in his chest at the notion of being close to his baby.

Pregnancy was a surprise to the both of them. They'd had one conversation two years ago about kids, but after that, Harry and Y/n never really brought the subject up again. They were just content to live their lives in the moment, not wanting to plan or stress about the future or what could be. But even if they hadn't anticipated Y/n being pregnant, both of them were excited at the prospect of raising a baby together. After that initial conversation, they decided to hold off on kids, and now, the moment felt just right.

Y/n did as Harry asked, taking a deep breath and easing into the chair beside the exam bed he was on. He watched as some of the initial fear and stress of watching him fall in real time wash away, her eyes fluttering closed as she breathed in through her nose and out through her mouth. When she opened her eyes, her gaze found the athletic trainer's again.

"Remember to say please," Harry said before she opened her mouth.

Y/n cut him a glare before she looked back at the trainer. "Could you please find out when the doctor will be here?"

The athletic trainer didn't need to be asked twice. They scurried out of the room, and Harry could hear their frantic voice as they begged the team doctor over the phone to get to the arena faster.

"You know, you really gotta be careful, Princess. People might start to think you actually care about me."

It was his attempt at humor, easing the nerves he knew were swirling around inside her. Y/n's shoulders had yet to relax since she came in the room, and her eyes kept scanning his body as if a new affliction was magically going to appear in front of her. Unfortunately for Harry, his words did not have the desired effect. Y/n glared at him while most likely suppressing the urge to hit him.

"This isn't funny!"

"Never said it was."

"God, Harry," she said, her voice cracking beneath the steel she'd been hiding behind. Now that they were alone, her vulnerability started to make an appearance. "You—You scared me."

Harry's gaze softened. "I know, bub. I'm sorry."

Y/n ran a shaking hand through his hair, working through the knots in his tangled curls while her nails scratched his scalp. Harry leaned his head back with closed eyes, enjoying the familiar caress.

They stayed like that for a few minutes, neither of them saying anything as Y/n calmed herself—and Harry—down. Then, he squeezed her hand, peeking and eye open at her and giving her a knowing look. "You have to stop scaring the new hires. They know what they're doing."

"They looked like a child!" she huffed, pausing her ministrations. "We would already be at the hospital by now."

"I really don't think that's necessary," Harry insisted. "Let's just wait for the doctor, okay?"

Some might find Y/n's behavior overbearing, maybe even rude. But she lashed out when she was scared or angry, and even though Harry drove her insane when they first met years ago, she was fiercely protective of him now. And he couldn't really judge her for it, he was the same with her, especially now that she was pregnant. Y/n had chastised him a number of times already for not letting her carry groceries or assemble furniture for the nursery.

Y/n eventually nodded, begrudgingly agreeing to wait for the team doctor. She slumped in her chair beside Harry, exhaling a loud sigh. Harry grinned, slowly reaching for her chin and tilting her head to face him.

"Come give me a kiss. It'll make me feel better."

Under normal circumstances, Y/n would've scoffed. Harry had come home from a number of games and practices all banged up and begging for Y/n to kiss it better. But tonight she was shaken up at the severity of Harry's fall, and probably needed the kiss more than he did, which was why he said something in the first place.

Y/n pecked his lips before pulling away. She tried to, anyway, but Harry held her in place. "Now I know you can do better than that."

For the first time since she'd stormed in, Y/n grinned. It was small, but Harry counted the victory.

"You're trying to distract me," she said.

"Yes. Is it working?"

Y/n's smile grew a fraction. "Maybe."

Harry leaned in, and Y/n met him halfway, pressing their lips together. She tasted like vanilla, and Harry was inclined to taste as much as he could before the doctor arrived. Each kiss worked to melt Y/n, the hand resting on her cheek earning Harry a sweet little nuzzle in his palm when he eventually pulled away.

"I love you,"Harry said, kissing the tip of her nose.

"Love you too," she murmured, her hand reaching to hold the one he still had against her cheek as they waited for the doctor.

"Behave when the doctor gets here, please?"

"I always behave."

Now it was Harry's turn to scoff. He gave her one more kiss as he heard footsteps in the hallway drawing nearer to their door. "I'll remember you said that," he told her, pinching her cheek as a doctor and the same scared trainer entered the room.

"So, Harry. I heard you took a pretty nasty fall—"

"He needs to go to the hospital," Y/n cut in, that look of steel in her eyes once more.

Harry raised his eyes heavenward, bracing himself for a long night.

[shanieveh]

“ forget me not... ”

synopsis: neuvillette, too late to confess his love to you, is drowning from the suffering and regret that came along with it, especially after knowing that you felt the same all along.

tags: gn!reader x neuvillette, depression and low self-esteem, bittersweet ending, mentions of freminet, lynette and melusines, heavily implied reader death and neuvillette also kinda wanting to die

a/n: people want this and i have came to deliver (hopefully) enjoy~ this is my first long fic that i published

How can this be….?

Neuvillette sat in the corner of his office, all your letters in his right hand. How can you say you loved him… how dare you describe the love, the passion, everything you felt for him when he can't even say it back.

How can you love someone so unlovable?

His silent cries can't match up to the violent outbursts of the skies outside. Days went by when he first found out, the melusines were scared to death about who would report it to him. The way you dissolved into water, not even seeing you for the last time—not having the privilege to have a proper funeral.

He failed you… the monsieur wasn't too sure on many things but this one was certain.

Reading your diaries, knowing your thoughts and hopes for the future. It was an invasion of privacy but also in a way… the last remnants of your existence. One such entry was that of three years ago where you first met.

Encountering this, a profuse blush colored his face. The adjectives being used "handsome", "tall" and "kind" for your first meetingwith the chief justice. Far from the truth really, although Neuvillette knew you meant every word.

You always did.

You always were an honest person.

The very first day his lavender eyes met yours, to the very last. There was never a trace of impurity or a hint of a liar. Of course, the verdict went in your favor, because to him a precious rose like you can never steal and the plaintiffs were wrong.

Reading it now, not even a slightly negative comment was made to those who wrongly accused you.

"Maybe they had their reasons, after all, I was also in need of money at that time." you wrote. Adding on that you defended the "Monsieur Neuvillette" when people called "such a man of honor and kindness" a "merciless and arrogant man".

A man of honor and kindness? Your words became running thoughts in the hydro dragon's head. That day was one of the only days he didn't cry after a trial. Neuvillette was just happy that such a person of integrity was cleared of their name.

He turned through the pages of the diary, how you taught him to socialize and even mend his relationship with the hydro archon.

"Monsieur Neuvillette was too adorable! Being with a person of lowly status and treating me with such respect and humility, he truly is the epitome of mercy and loveliness."

How can you be so blind? Anyone with eyes will know that it's a privilege to be with someone so beautiful, especially to be with someone like Neuvillette. A cold and repulsive soul. You make him sound like a good person, when in fact he isn't both good and human.

He was a monster… these words of humanity you always used to describe a monster. Why do they sound so genuine? Why do they look so real? Maybe only you can make him like that, you and only you.

A few pages later he finally saw the words…

Words that should've made him scream in euphoria… tore him to a million pieces. Because even before this he already loved you… because you had so much time to confess but never did… and never will.

"I think I'm in love with the chief Justice."

And after that, he couldn't even get himself to read, he couldn't. His eyes got so blurry to see, his heart became too heavy to feel. Why were you… why you? In a world filled with monsters, they chose an angel. They chose a soul that still wanted to live, love and give. Those demons… despicable.

Remembering his shortcomings, maybe in some way he could've avoided all of this. Neuvillette shouldn't have given you his blessing to investigate the serial disappearance case.

But that glint of adventure in your eyes… he was too soft to reject you.

It was all his fault.

Wiping his tears he looked at the last entry of the diary… Oh.

Oh.

"After this investigation, I'll finally confess to him… I surely hope Neuvillette feels the same way, I even planted some forget-me-nots to give him in the backyard so that he'll know when it rains and he weeps. I will always be here."

The chief justice didn't know what was coming to him but he started running… and only then can he see the state of Fontaine. Many flowers have wilted and only a few people were outside. What had he become..?

"What's up with this weather? It isn't even the rainy season yet?!" A shop owner complained.

"I know! My crops have been drowning these days, at this rate if it doesn't stop we'll have a famine!"

It was all his fault, his running turned to a slow walk taking in all that he had done. This was all because of him. The lonely streets, the lowered morale. This was all because—

"Hydro dragon, hydro dragon, please don't cry!"

He turned to the voice and saw a young boy in the distance. Neuvillette remembered now, his name was Freminet. That child on which you doted extremely, giving him sweets and hushing his tears. The chief justice quickly let go of his gaze and continued to walk.

"You see Freminet, it didn't work... let's go inside."

The response was that of a stoic young woman, but he just continued his legs even if they wanted to rest all to see the last thing you cared for… those flowers. And when he finally was at the destination he saw it immediately outside.

It was in the bushes, he couldn't miss it. Every corner of your house was haunted, every tiny thing was a memory. The chairs you painted, the drawings pinned in the cabinet of you and him with the melusines. It was precious. All of it. Just as you are.

He finally saw them, most were almost to bloom and some were wilted. Picking one he unconsciously kissed it, perhaps mistaking it for you. These flowers were made to remind him he was never alone, but now he is.

More alone than he can ever be in one lifetime. Your scent still filled every corner, a remembrance of the biggest "what if" in his life. Your will stated that every single thing of yours is his just as you were always his. Bittersweet was he when reading it.

Neuvillete forgot that too included your house, maybe he was too consumed with your thoughts to visit this place. He was twisting the poor flower that looked so tiny compared to his hand. Perhaps that's what it's like to be with him. It's a curse…

He continues to caress the flowers, to treat them as if they were you. You were wrong on one thing about this, even if there were no flowers he will never forget you. Never, no way! The love he has for you can destroy nations and can cause millions of sacrifices. Just to keep you, to see your smile again.

But he can't even do that, you didn't give him the privilege to do something for you. If only he knew, he would've… done everything for you. The love that can create the strongest of floods failed to protect the one person he was supposed to protect.

At that moment, he felt the waters, the ocean, his home… you. It made his crying bearable, somewhat. Grief that could surpass a lifetime, wasn't enough. Nothing he can do will ever be enough to have you again. Perhaps he should also leave this world to stop being a burden to the people… and maybe to see you again.

"Neuvillette…"

Now he was even imagining your voice, or was he? Maybe he was delusional but he still followed your voice even if it took him to an unknown path. But the end was in a small pond, where you used to keep the fish, all of which were alive and well.

"Neuvillette…?"

At this he didn't even care if was going insane, your voice sounded like a melody even if it uttered his name. It sounded like a rare jewel, a myth, a prophecy too good to be true.

"Darling?" He replied in a hopeful tone. He looked through his surroundings, no longer was he in a pond but a terrain of boundless water. In the middle was a flying Oceanid, a spirit. Was it—could it be?

"Even I could feel the heavy pouring of rain, monsieur… don't be sad."

It was indeed your spirit, a part of you that remained before that bastard—he'll make whoever did this pay. It wasn't for justice anymore, this one is for revenge.

"How can I not? When I have failed you over and over again, I couldn't even get to say…"

"That you love me?"

His eyes widened, looking at you. Even if it didn't look like you, he knew… he always did. A nod soon followed after that, it was barely noticeable even at this rate the chief justice was a bit shy saying it.

"I just don't know why you could ever say you love me, how you could even think of me so kindly. Why? How? How can you love me back?" He was clueless to what you mean.

"How can I not?"

The reply you uttered was one of a teary-eyed person. Even to this moment you still haven't accepted you had died, not when he was still alone needing you.

"Just as you said… how can I not? You out of all people my dear… know of the sacrifices we make for the person we love."

It was that moment where you took your normal form, you looked beautiful as the day he lost you. As beautiful as the day you met. And as you walked towards him, the clock ticking until your final goodbye, it was time.

"I love you Neuvillette, i always had and continue to do so." For the last time, you cupped his cheek and kissed him.

"I love you, darling from the very beginning and every single lifetime to come." He let go of the kiss and hugged you tight, closing his eyes, until you disappeared not knowing he was hugging his own.

Opening his eyes, the rain was long gone, and what remained were the flowers in the bushes, the ponds, the fish, and him. Maybe… just maybe he will bring you and the other victims to light.

Until then, this one last encounter and goodbye will make him content. He was sure… that finally his love will be at rest.