#granted: i did not have a strong emotional attachment to it in childhood so that might edxplain why

[bluemew-theturtle]

i am so sorry but Anastasia is Just Fine. It's Alright.

[wedreamedlove]

[FIC] Dandelion

Rating: G Characters: Li Zeyan/Reader Word Count: 1589

Prompt: Hi! I really like your writing 🥺! Thank you for your hard work❤️❤️! If you don't mind can I request a headcanon about Victor when MC is hospitalized because she is fainted due to her overwork, and when she gain her consciousness she try to leave the hospital because she is worried about the important filming at her office, but Victor chase her and make her back to hospital's bed? I will really happy if you grant my request 🥰🥰

A/N: Thank you for your kind words! I ended up writing this in my usual 2nd person perspective but the experiences are of the MC in the game. If that bothers anyone, oops, you can re-imagine this to be written in 3rd person perspective.

Something like fuzz encroaches at the edges of your vision and your head feels like it's filled with cotton. None of these are good signs and, to be honest, you know you're at your limit after working 60 hours for the past three days.

You're able to get away with this—as well as the enormous pile of energy drinks on your desk—only because Anna is away on a business trip for another project, meaning no one else in the company dares to make you take a break. Oh, there are people who make gentle suggestions to rest but none of them can budge your determination to perfect this important contract you had accepted. Last minute changes had been added to the outline and so, to ensure everything is still on schedule, you have to pull this insane work schedule.

But you can see the light at the end of the tunnel. You just have to finish looking through the last 20 pages of this document in front of you.

You rub your forehead to stave off the building tension in your head and reach out with your other hand for a drink. However, your hand only bumps into empty cans around you and you grimace as you realize you have to make another run to the nearby convenience store to buy more drinks.

When you stand up to do just that, extreme vertigo assaults you and your last thought before your vision goes black is 'Oh... this isn't good.'

#

You wake up to an extremely white ceiling.

It's pure white.

It's so white that, for a second, you morbidly wonder if you really overdid it this time. But then the rest of your senses make themselves known and you smell the antiseptic scent of a hospital, you feel the crisp sheets below your hands, and you think you hear someone breathing.

You turn your head to the side and your gaze collides into eyes the color of steel. It's Li Zeyan, and with an incredible scowl no less.

"You're awake."

You struggle to sit up and swing your legs to the side of the bed, but he places a large hand on your thigh immediately, obstructing your movement and pressing you down.

"What do you think you're doing?" Li Zeyan's voice is clipped. Uh oh, someone isn't happy.

"I have to get back to the company."

He gives you an incredulous look. "Do you realize what state you're in?"

His words make you notice you're in a hospital gown and there is an IV drip attached to you. You wince slightly at the sight of the needle in the back of your hand but another thought soon takes over your mind.

"Wait, how long have I been here? Did I miss the deadline?" Your voice rises in desperation and there's a suffocating weight on your chest when you think about how all your earlier work might amount to nothing.

"Idiot, how are you still thinking about work? You truly don't understand your condition. You hadn't had any proper sleep or food and the amount of energy drinks you were drinking was dangerous. Even though you're still young, if you continue like that you could do irreparable damage to your body. You—" He cuts himself off and his eyes widen. "Are you... crying?"

You reflexively reach up to touch your cheek and your fingertips come back wet. You blink and Li Zeyan's figure goes blurry as more tears well up in your eyes.

"Sorry, it's just a physical reaction. Don't mind me. You can keep lecturing. I'm listening," you choke out through a tight throat. Frustration, embarrassment, and mortification strangles you.

You roughly wipe at the tears, wanting them to stop right now before you see the exasperation in Li Zeyan's eyes. Intellectually, you know he's right and you don't want it to look like you're crying to get him to go easy on you. There have been many times where you feel childish and inadequate compared to him and so you don't need to come off even more as a baby throwing a tantrum.

But the tears just won't stop. Your shoulders shake with the effort you use to suppress your sobs.

A hand holding a tissue box appears in your lap.

"Cry it out."

You shake your head like a rattle drum.

"... What haven't I seen?" Li Zeyan's voice is low and even, and it's when he places a hand on your head that your last resistance crumbles.

You hunch over, automatically trying to stifle your gasps, but you end up crying your eyes out anyway.

You cry, and cry, and cry. You cry about the pressure of the deadline. You cry about the fear of not being able to make it. You cry about the anxiety and worry over whether you're doing enough or whether you're good enough. You cry at how hard it is to be be a successful adult.

The entire time you can feel the soft pressure of Li Zeyan stroking your hair.

Eventually, you calm down enough to start pulling wads of tissue out of the box to wipe your eyes and blow your nose as the last of your tears trickle to a stop. All your emotions feel raw and sensitive, but you have to admit you feel a lot better.

Li Zeyan takes your dirty tissues before you can say anything and tosses them into the wastebasket below the bed. Then he levels an unreadable gaze on you and, just as you're about to squirm and open your mouth, he speaks first.

"Why are you working so hard?"

"Huh?"

"No one pushes themselves like this unless there's something very important they're trying to achieve. So, what is it for you?"

"... You're going to think I'm dumb."

He stares at you flatly and you can see that he's clearly thinking it's a bit too late for that.

You look down at the hospital sheets and pick at a loose thread. "I want to catch up to you."

"Idiot." He actually scoffs out loud but continues before you can decide how to react to that, leaning back in his chair. "Do you know why I created Huarui?"

You blink, caught off guard. You know it isn't a family business and that he started the company when he was in his final years of university. But did he ever say why he created it? Because he could? Li Zeyan standing at the top of the world seems as natural as the sun rising in the east and setting in the west, so you never questioned it.

He sees your confusion and explains, "I was looking for the girl who saved me when I was a child. I searched for her for 11 years."

Your childhood memories are still vague but you do remember the more recent memory of the film set where you and Li Zeyan had been tricked and how you jumped in front of Li Zeyan to shield him. You can almost feel the ache and burn of the lightning strike again if you think hard enough.

Li Zeyan continues to look at you, his eyes calm without any ripples. "I built Huarui and made it rise to the top because I thought that, if I stood in the highest place I could think of, then she would have an easier time finding me. Of course, the position itself also allowed me to increase the extent of my search for her."

"In the end, I did find you."

A wry smile flashes across his face, so quick you doubt your eyes. "Yes, you found me first, and so my choice wasn't the wrong one."

You know he's trying to tell you something but, try as you might, you can't figure out how the current conversation connects back to the previous one. As the silence grows, you see exasperation appear in Li Zeyan's eyes before he sighs lightly.

"Now, after all these years and efforts, do you think I would walk away? You only need to reach out and I'm right here, waiting for you."

His words crash into you, bringing with them a sudden epiphany and new perspective. You reach out without a thought, as if to touch him and make sure he really is there, but then you realize how silly that looks. Before your hand can drop though, he covers the remaining distance and grabs your hand, wrapping your entire hand within his and entwining your fingers together. The familiar warmth and steady strength makes your eyes sting again and you drop your gaze to your interlinked hands, not wanting him to see you cry again.

You finally realize you've been mistaken all this time. You were being crushed by your own expectations and desires to stand beside him. In your head, you imagined him to be walking ahead of you, his back growing smaller and smaller. But that isn't true at all. Yes, he stands in front of you, but he isn't moving. Instead, his body is turned to yours and he's holding a hand out towards you, waiting for you to take a step. If you fall, he will catch you. If you take a firm step and grasp his hand, he will take another step forward and wait for you there.

"I'm not going anywhere." The words were low and solemn.

"Mm."

Against all odds, you both found each other again and so there is no way either of you will leave the other.

[hxlyhead-harpies]

The Last Dream of My Soul part 1. (R.L.)

hello everyone! This is the first part of the Remus Lupin series that i’m starting and i am soooo excited. i am still new at this so any feedback is appreciated!! i hope you enjoy!!

Pairing: Young!Remus Lupin x Reader

Summary: The very bookish (Y/n) has spent most of her life alone, aside from her best friends Lily and her beloved books. But when the infamous Marauders get thrust into her life, how could she resist the beautiful and unattainable Remus.

Warnings: Cursing

Word Count: 3.1k

The yellowing and rough pages of old books had always felt like home to you. The smell of the aging parchment and the worn and weathered covers had always offered you more comfort than any real person ever had. On a bad day, you’d be able to curl up in your bed, lulled to sleep by your favorite characters, and adventures more exciting than your own life. As the years pushed forward this was how your life was. You didn’t have many friends but that was okay because you had your books. Who needed a best friend when you could spend your afternoons in Narnia with the Pevensie siblings or tumble through rabbit holes with Alice? For the early years of your childhood, you were content with the reality that you wished you could be in any world than your own. Your boring, magicless, and unmysterious world.

But that all changed the year you turned eleven. You remember the day as if it were yesterday. You were laying on your bed, your legs tangled in the quilt your mother had made. A Nancy Drew book sat in front of you, the plot of which now escapes you but at this point, you had already solved the mystery yourself. It was a perfect summer afternoon. The sun was out and you could hear the other neighborhood kids shouting from outside your window. They never invited you out to play but you were okay with that; you had far more exciting things to read. You were turning a page, nearly halfway through the book, when you heard tapping from your window. Your head shot up- your reading induced trance was now broken- only to be met with the sight of a snowy owl. You furrowed your eyebrows in confusion. You had never seen that type of bird around here. And you had certainly never seen one clutching a letter between its talons. You carefully marked your page in your book and quickly hopped out of bed. You made your way to the window and attempted to open it, a task that proved difficult for your small eleven-year-old body. After a few moments of a struggle, you finally pried it open. The owl dropped the letter inside your room and flew off. You bent down to pick up the parchment from the floor to see that the letter was addressed to you, and was from someplace called Hogwarts School for Witchcraft and Wizardry.

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

From that moment on your world had been flipped upsidedown, at least in the sense that everything now had to change. But to you, if anything, the world had finally been made right. Magic was real- and you had the pleasure of possessing it. It was like some part of you had always known that magic existed beyond the pages of your favorite books. It was as if everything finally made sense.

You dragged your family down the streets of Diagon Alley, absorbing every bit of magic culture that you could. You reveled in the lights and the feeling of warmth that coursed through your veins when you finally picked up the right wand at Ollivanders. You squealed with delight when your parents purchased you an owl and you nearly died of excitement when you realized that pictures plastered on posters in the alleys moved. And when you ran through the seemingly solid barrier at Kingscross station you thought you would pass out from the thrill. And when you got on the train you curled up by yourself in a compartment, hurriedly reading through your History of Magic textbook, attempting to soak up every bit of knowledge that you could.

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

During your first year at Hogwarts, you came to the slow realization that you might actually need friends. Now that you knew that magic was real you wanted to experience as much of it as you could, and it felt rather lonely to experience it all on your own. The characters in your books had always had sidekicks and best friends on their grand adventures, and being accepted into Hogwarts marked the beginning of yours. Now you just needed someone to share it with. Luckily, the pretty girl with brilliant green eyes and glowing red hair that shared your dorm had the same idea.

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

By your fourth year, you and Lily Evans were attached at the hip. You spent nearly all your time together, inside and outside of class, and told each other absolutely everything. She knew everything about you, every detail and every secret, and you knew the same about her. Sure you had other friends, Marlene and Alice were nice and you hung around them quite often, but it was nothing like your relationship with Lily. She was the Elizabeth Bennet to your Charlotte Collins. Nobody understood you as she did, and you didn’t think you’d ever find anyone else who did.

But despite your closeness, you always felt a tinge of jealousy towards her. She was everything you weren’t: she was strong and outgoing, she felt no fear when talking to strangers, and it seemed that everyone instantly took a liking to her. Everyone loved her. She had flocks of friends, granted she wasn’t as close to any of them as she was to you, but it occasionally made you feel unimportant. It also seemed as if half of the year was in love with her. James Potter was evidence of that, constantly making a fool of himself to impress her. Lily always scoffed at him, not finding any of his antics even slightly attractive. And out loud you agreed with her that he was just a silly boy, but deep down you wished someone would give you at least a fraction of the attention that he gave her. But that was how it always went. Lily was the type of girl that boys would fall in love with. You, on the other hand, her quiet and shy sidekick, went largely unnoticed. But everything was fine. Because in moments when you felt lonely or inadequate you could turn to your books just as you did when you were young. Fingers tracing over the words of Mr. Darcy’s declaration of love or Romeo and Juliet’s final moments. And at the time, it was enough.

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

It was your seventh year when things really started to change. After years of begging, Lily finally said yes to James. You were happy for her of course, she seemed to really like him. And he obviously really liked her. The way that James looked at her could only be described in the words of your favorite novels. But with her new relationship came uncharted territory: Lily now sat with him at most meals, though every few breakfasts she’d make a point to sit with you, and the spot you usually occupied next to her in the common room was now occupied by James. And the worst part was that you were now alone on Hogsmeade weekends, a time that was usually reserved for you and Lily to walk arm and arm around the small village. But despite all of this you couldn’t be mad at her. You saw how happy she was- and her happiness made you happy as well. But you couldn’t help but feel a tad jealous that she got to feel an emotion that you yearned to feel with your entire being. Love.

“(Y/n) come on!” Lily exclaimed, throwing up her hands in exasperation. You groaned, looking up at her from the book in front of you. You were currently rereading A Tale of Two Cities, a favorite of yours that was littered with dogeared pages and underlined phrases. You made eye contact with your best friends, noticing the frustration in her eyes.

“Can you please just come eat breakfast with us?” she asked, rubbing her temple with her fingertips.

“Lils you know I want to eat breakfast with you but I don’t want to interrupt your time with James,” you replied, starting to look back down at your book.

“You’re not interrupting anything! All of his friends sit with us too!” she said desperately. When you didn’t respond to her exclamation she reached down and snatched the book from your hands.

“Lily!” you cried, sitting up and attempting to steal back your book.

“No (Y/n) I’m not giving this back until you come eat with me! I feel like I never see you anymore,” she said.

“Yeah, that’s because you’re always with James,” you responded while making another sad attempt to reclaim your novel. Lily’s face fell.

“Do you think I’m spending too much time with him? I swear I don’t mean to ignore you, I’ll stop eating meals with him and we can go to Hogsm-” she rambled, practically shoving the old book back into your hands.

“No Lily!” you shouted, cutting her off. “You’re not spending to much time with him! It seems like a perfectly acceptable time to spend around your boyfriend. I just miss you that’s all,” you said quietly. Lily’s face softened.

“Then come eat breakfast with me. I want you to get to know James better. You two are my favorite people I want you to get along,” she once again urged.

“Lily I’m not sure… I don’t really know anyone else there and you don’t have to worry I already like James plenty,” you replied.

“Just come, please! I promise that you’ll like his friends!” she practically begged. You sighed in defeat, finally giving in.

“Fine Lily,” you grumbled, standing up to gather your things.

“Yay!” Lily exclaimed, clapping her hands together.

“But, I can only promise today. If his friends suck I won’t come back,” you exclaimed sternly. Lily nodded solemnly.

“Understood.”

The two of you made your way down to the Great Hall for breakfast as Lily attempted to give you a rundown on the group of boys that you were about to meet.

“Ok so obviously you know James, he plays quidditch and is studying to become an Auror. His best friend is Sirius who, I know, has a reputation but I swear he’s no that ba-”

“Lily I know who they all are! We’ve been in the same house for the last seven years,” you said, interrupting her with a laugh. Lily rolled her eyes at you.

“Yes I know you know them but you don’t know them,” Lily replied.

“Fine fine,” you said, throwing your hands up in surrender. “Continue.”

“Thank you,” Lily smiled. “As I was saying, Sirius is not as bad as everyone makes him out to seem. Yes, he hooks up with quite a few girls but he’s actually very funny and is secretly a sweetheart. Then there’s Peter, who I’ll admit is a little odd, but he’s harmless. And finally, there’s Remus. He honestly reminds me of you: he’s quiet and he reads a lot like you do. But he’s kind of a smartass sometimes so watch out for that,” she said, finished with her rundown. By this point, the two of you had reached the great hall. Breakfast was already in full swing and the room was swarming with students. Lily grabbed your arm and led you to a spot about midway down the table. She plopped down next to James, kissing him quickly on the cheek, causing Sirius to make a fake gagging face, before pulling you down to sit next to her.

“Boys,” she said, attempting to catch the attention of all four boys.

“This is (Y/n), my best mate in the entire world, so you all better be nice to her,” Lily stated matter-o-factly. You looked up to give a meek smile to all the boys. James greeted you warmly, Sirius gave you a small nod, Peter waved excitedly, and Remus didn’t even look up at you. You frowned for a moment before Sirius smacked Remus’s arm from his spot next to him.

“Hey Moony, pay attention we have a guest,” he said jokingly before shooting you a smile. Remus’s head shot up quickly, looking from Sirius to you, locking his eyes with yours. Once he seemingly realized what was happening he shot you a quick smile. You smiled back, attempting to hide the blush that the momentary eye contact had caused. You had always found Remus attractive, but you had never been so near him before. Something about the proximity made you jittery and made your palms sweat.

“Sorry about that,” he said, lifting a book from underneath the table. He flashed the cover of the book towards you. The title, Crime and Punishment, was sprawled across the worn cover. You felt your nose crinkle, reminded of how much you disliked the book. Remus’s eyebrows furrowed.

“What? Not a fan of Dostoevsky?” he asked. You shook your head.

“I guess the plot was interesting enough but oh my Godric was it dense,” you replied with a groan. You heard Remus chuckle from his spot across from you.

“Yeah, I suppose I can see where you’re coming from. I am enjoying it so far though,” he replied. You hummed in understanding before reaching for a piece of toast.

“Oh come on Lily,” Sirius said with a grin. “I can’t believe you would bring another nerd along. We already have Remus, we don’t need another one,” he continued. You felt your face heat up, ducking your head as you bit into the piece of toast. Lily narrowed her eyes at Sirius.

“Sirius I told you to be nice,” she said before throwing a piece of her roll at him. He laughed before throwing his hands up in surrender.

“Sorry (Y/n),” he apologized. You sent him a quick nod to let him know that it was okay, before pulling out your own book. As you stared down at the pages in front of you, you missed Remus perking up in interest.

“What are you reading?” he asked, setting his book down. You looked up quickly, showing him the cover.

“A Tale of Two Cities. It’s one of my favorites,” you answered shyly. You felt Lily shift beside you before speaking.

“She’s read that book probably a million times,” she said. You rolled your eyes.

“I wouldn’t say a million times, but yes I’ve read it quite a few times,” you replied before shifting your eyes back to Remus. He let out a soft laugh.

“I’ve never read it before. I’ll have to pick a copy up when we go to Hogsmeade. One of the shops sells muggle books,” he said with a small smile.

“You can borrow mine!” you said too quickly, causing yourself to blush. He looked at you, surprised.

“Oh, uh sure. I’ll borrow it when I’m done with this,” he replied, once again holding up Crime and Punishment. You heard Lily snicker from beside you.

“Good luck trying to read one of her books,” Lily said. “There’s so much writing in the margins it’s nearly impossible to get through.” You turned to her and smacked her lightly on the shoulder.

“Hey! It’s not that bad,” you said with a slight pout.

“I don’t mind,” Remus said, causing your eyes to turn back to him. “I’ll be interested in reading your thoughts as well as the book,” he said earnestly. You felt yourself smile involuntarily. You were about to reply when James stood up suddenly.

“Damnit we’re going to be late to potions,” he exclaimed. And with that, you all gathered your things and left.

Potions was generally a subject that you were good at. You often found yourself shooting your hand up during class to answer questions and Professor Slughorn had taken a liking to you. However, you found yourself unable to pay attention to the lesson. From your seat on the far side of the room, you had caught yourself staring at Remus. He was joking around with Peter, his potions partner, and had a wide smile spread across his face. He had scars running down his face, though they didn’t make him less attractive. In fact, they only seemed to add to the allure. His hair was messy and fell into his eyes. You felt yourself sigh when he ran his finger through his hair to get it out of his face.

“(Y/n)? Are you all right?” Lily asked, startling you. You nearly jumped from your seat, hand pressed to your chest.

“Merlin Lils! You scared me,” you replied. She squinted her eyes at you.

“(Y/n)? What’s going on with you?” she asked, scanning your face.

“Nothing!” you swore, stealing another quick glance at Remus. That was when the realization hit her. A teasing smile quickly spread it’s way across Lily’s face.

“Oh my goodness you fancy Remus don’t you?” she inquired, making your eyes widen and face flush. You pushed her shoulder lightly.

“Lily hush! And no I don’t!” you exclaimed as you glanced around the room to make sure that no one had heard her.

“Oh, you totally do! All that book talk this morning must’ve really got to you huh,” she said, waggling her eyebrows at you. You put your head in your hands and groaned.

“Shut up Lily!”

“Only when you admit it,” she responded.

“Fine! But you can’t tell anybody! Not even James,” you warned. Lily grinned from beside you.

“Oh, this is perfect! The two of you are perfect for each other!” she exclaimed.

“Lily! Just be quiet. It’s not like it’s ever going to happen,” you said. Lily looked at you, confusion was written all over her face.

“What do you mean it’s never going to happen?” she asked. You sighed, glancing at Remus once again. He was stirring the potion in front of him, his sleeves rolled up to his elbows.

“Lily why would he ever like me?”

“Why wouldn’t he?” she replied, clearly exasperated. You turned to her, giving her an incredulous look.

“We have seven years of evidence that boys don’t like me,” you respond. Lily rolled her eyes beside you.

“Well, this is different trust me,” Lily responded. You stare at her.

“How could this possibly be any different?”

“Because you could actually talk to Remus, get to know him He’ll obviously fancy you once he learns more about you.” Then it was your turn to roll your eyes.

“Lily, it’s never going to happen so just drop it,” you responded. You picked up the recipe for the potion that you were assigned to make that day.

“Now, can you please hand me the adder’s fork,” you said, listing off the first ingredient. Lily sighed.

“Fine. But we’ll be talking about this later.”

[hollyxqx]

BAD FRIENDS  ;  MIN YOONGI  ;  ONE

↪ PAIRING: reader x yoongi / reader x seokjin ↪ GENRE: friends to lovers to enemies to lovers, 90s!au, college!au, angst, smut, hurt, comfort, FLUFF ↪ SUMMARY: hooking up with your childhood best friend was never your plan, but neither was falling in love with him either. he’s troubled but his heart is gold. when you move away for college, things start to take a turn.

↪ WARNINGS: TW! mentions of alcohol&physical abuse, yoongi’s dad is a terrible human, minor descriptions of violence, smut, explicit sex, recreational drug use, but despite that there is a lot of love and fluff, so much pining between these two idiots in luv

↪ WORD COUNT: 20k (it’s a big one!!!)

series masterlist

It Began As A Mistake

The shared wall between your houses is far too thin, you often think. You hear a lot of what you’re not supposed to. The mask the Min family next door displays to the world is shattered for you every night when the raised voices and banging starts.

You expect Yoongi will be requesting your company soon, if the shouting and screaming through the wall tonight is any indication to go by. It’s a pattern that has become more frequent, especially as of late, but has been going on for as long as you could remember.. It’s routine now. 

Not that you mind. Yoongi is your closest friend. The longest relationship you’ve had with any other human being (aside from your parents) is the one you share with Yoongi. You met him the day you moved in next door at the tender age of eight. He had been playing in his front yard, throwing and catching a basketball against a hoop attached to the brick wall of his house. You don’t remember much about the first meeting other than laughing at his enormous oversized shirt that reached his knees. 

According to your mother, it was a fast friendship. By the end of that first day you had proudly declared to her that Yoongi was your bestsest frien. She always recalls the story with a fond smile on her face, given how much she adores him. As an only child, Yoongi was like the brother you never had. And that’s how the relationship continued. Innocent and almost sibling-like.

Until it wasn’t. 

The memory of the first time you slept together is hazy. You don’t know exactly who initiated the first move but in the moment it made sense, as if it was the right thing to do. Yoongi had snuck out, climbed in your bedroom window as he usually did when he wanted to escape his turbulent home life and made himself at home in your room.

He had never been particularly vocal when it came to expressing his emotions. That was just Yoongi; silent, stoic, strong. It was only with you that he would allow himself to even be marginally vulnerable. Occasionally the veil would slip ever so slightly and you’d get a peek of the turmoil underneath and every time you did, you wanted to take that pain away from him any way you could. 

So when you held him in your arms and he murmured into the skin of your neck how much you meant to him, you knew you would do anything for him. Which is why when his lips found yours you kissed him back. When he slowly removed every item of clothing you wore, you let him. When he fucked you on your childhood bed, slowly and purposefully, you granted him access to your body. Whatever Yoongi wanted, you allowed him to take from you.

If it meant bringing some happiness and light into his life, it was worth it. You loved him, after all. 

As if on cue, you hear a quiet tap on your window. You look up from the book that you were unsuccessfully trying to distract yourself with to see Yoongi, peering at you underneath a mop of shaggy black hair. When you notice him he gives you the briefest of smiles, but you can see in his eyes he’s anything but happy.

“Figured you’d be over soon.” You say quietly as you push the window open to let him in. “He’s bad tonight, huh?”

You were referring to Yoongi’s father. The center of the hurricane of chaos that is the Min family. Mr Min had a serious drinking problem, and whenever he had one too many it was like he transformed into someone else entirely. Mrs Min and Yoongi took the brunt of his wrath. Although Yoongi never outright said it, you had long since deduced the violence his father inflected. Mrs Min had ‘walked into a door’ too many times for you to count.

“He’s an asshole.” Yoongi mutters, kicking off his sneakers. “I waited until he passed out, there’s no way I would leave that monster alone with Mom.”

“You wanna talk about it?” You ask, scooching over to make space for him on the bed beside you. He shakes his head ‘no’ as he flops face down on the mattress. Rarely does he want to open up. He lays on his front, head resting on the back of his palms. “I’m sorry Yoongi.” You rub his back affectionately.

“You should be, I cut my hand climbing up the trellis.” His muffled voice replies. “Maybe invest in a rope ladder for me.”

“Noted. Now let me see your hand.” 

Yoongi allows you to look at the small cut on his hand. It’s nothing serious but you go and fetch a plaster from the medicine cabinet in the bathroom anyway. On your way back to your room you pause outside your parents bedroom and listen. Their television is off, which means they must be asleep. As much as they love Yoongi, catching him in your room after hours would probably not go down well.

“Thanks.” Yoongi mumbles once the band aid is secured. “Can I sleep here tonight?” He asks quietly.

“You don’t need to ask” You tell him this every time, but he never listens. Instead he pulls you into his arms, holding you tightly as if you’re the only thing tethering him to reality. He may not pour his heart out to you but his need for affection, for love, is clear when he holds you like this.

“I had such a shitty night.” He says into your skin, face buried in the crook of your neck. His breath tickles. “Just wanna forget it.” He presses a kiss to your throat. “Wanna forget everything that’s not you right now.”

Your stomach involuntarily somersaults at his words. He’s not romantically interested in you.. You know this.. He’s your best friend. In the two years you’ve been sleeping together you’ve worked hard to keep any feelings at bay, but when he says things like that, your heart races. Your phisiolocical reaction betrays your head. 

It’s not the same for Yoongi and you know that. He doesn’t get butterflies. He’s just blowing off steam. It is why you constantly remind yourself about the reality of the situation. It’s just sex. If you even allow yourself to think otherwise for a moment you’ll get carried away and that can only mean one thing; the end of your friendship.

He leads you back to the bed, laying you down on the mattress before his lips are on yours. Yoongi is a phenomenal kisser, a fact you're reminded of when he nips at your bottom lip before sliding his tongue in your mouth. It’s slow and passionate, something you’ve grown to love about his kissing style. He knows just how much to give and take.

You’re hot all over from his touch. His roaming hands caress your body, his touch gradually growing more desperate. It’s heavy breathing and grinding and intense. Like he can’t get close enough to you. “Yoongi,” You pant as he pulls your shirt up and over your head. 

“Hmm sweetheart?” He asks distractedly, eyes on your now naked breasts. The pet names only ever come out during sex. Leaning forward he cups them in his hand, kissing all over your chest. He takes one of your hardened nipples in his mouth, swirling his tongue over it, sending electricity straight down your spine. His mouth is sinful.

“I-I don’t have a - “ You moan a little when you feel his clothed hardness press between your legs as he moves to your other breast. Your hands fly to his hair, anchoring him to your chest.“Yoongi, I don’t have any condoms.” You manage to get out. 

He carries on what he’s doing but hums against your flesh, “Did we finish that pack already?”

“Y-yeah.” You stutter as he kisses his way down your navel. Yoongi hooks his thumbs in your shorts and drags them, along with your panties, down your legs. He kneels between your thighs and grips an ankle in each hand, bending your legs up and outwards and open. “I meant to pick some up.”

“Hmm,” Yoongi replies, once again distracted as he settles down on his chest between your spread thighs. Most of your hook ups begin this way. He reads your body so well now, after two years of doing this together he has every tip and trick down to a science. Spit sloppy kisses land on the soft meat of your inner thigh before his tongue makes it way in between your lower lips making your breath hitch.

He loves having his hair tugged and pulled whenever he’s eating you out, so your hands wind themselves through his dark locks. He grunts at the contact but still takes his time even as you tug on his hair, encouraging him. “God, Yoongi.” You whine quietly and breathlessly. “Feels amazing.”

His hands hook underneath your thighs, legs resting over his shoulder,, pulling your mound closer to him as his tongue begins to flick faster against your clit. It’s so hard to be quiet when he plays your body like this. You clutch at the sheets beneath you and a pillow simultaneously in a hopeless attempt at remaining silent.

“Look at you,” Yoongi breaks away, peering up at you through his bangs. There’s a dark desire in his eyes and your arousal on his lips. You can’t help but wonder if he loves the control aspect of making you feel good. “I can tell you’re barely holding it together. Fuckin’ needy for me. Do you want to cum like this? Or with my fingers too?”

“No.” You whisper and he quirks a skeptical brow.  “I want to cum with you inside me Yoongi.”

“We don’t have condoms.” He reminds you, languidly licking a stripe up your pussy, eliciting a shudder out of you. He slips one arm back underneath your leg so fingers can toy with the outline of your entrance. “As much as I’d love to feel you...I’ll get some tomorrow for us.”

You let a muffled cry as he slips a finger inside of your wet heat, curling it expertly. “A-ah, Yoon -” You gasp as he pumps it slowly. “I’m on birth control.”

His motions come to a frustrating hault. “Since when?” 

You had been on it for a while, not because you were having a lot of casual sex but just for your the sake of your period (something you didn’t feel like would particularly interest your best friend). Yoongi and you had long since established practicing safe sex so you carried on using condoms. “A few months.” 

“Are you...are you with other people?” He asks and you can’t believe he’s asking this with his fingers literally inside you. 

“Yoongi I’ve never been with anyone other than you.” You inform him quietly. He’d never known that he was the one who took your virginity. At the time you were so embarrassed to be the only one of your friend group still carrying their v-card, though looking back that was such a ridiculous thing to worry about.

“Really? Not even Jimi - “

“Don’t even say his name to me.” You cut him off abruptly. Jimin had been your boyfriend when you were a teenager, who ended up cheating on you. “No. Are we going to do this because I’m slowly starting to get turned off here.”

“I’m sorry sweetheart.” He gives you that same lopsided smile that makes your heart thud. Slowly he leans down to reattach his mouth to your still hyper sensitive clit before resuming fucking you with his fingers. “You’re the only one I’ve ever been with too.” He mumbles so quietly you almost miss it if it wasn’t the tickle of his hot breath against your sensitive flesh.

For some reason that turns you on more, knowing that this moment, this feeling, you’d only ever shared with each other. 

Your tightening around him, walls clenching as he brings you closer and closer to orgasm, chest heaving as you try to catch your breath enough to whine, “Yoongi I’m close, please stop, please, please let me cum on your cock.”

He pulls away with a smirk. “How could I say no when you beg so prettily?”

Yoongi reluctantly tears away from you and stands briefly to shed his clothing. They’re tossed uncaringly to the floor before he crawls over you, wedging himself in between your legs. When his bare cock brushes against your hot cunt you shiver. It’s electric, raw and thrilling at the same time. You can practically feel yourself dripping on to the sheets below.

Your lips brush together, before he whispers a warning with a laugh, “I’m probably going to cum really quick.”

“You better not.” You tease, closing the distance between your mouths with a searing kiss. Yoongi continues lapping at your mouth as one hand nudges your thighs apart a little wider. He grips the base of his cock, lining it up at your entrance before dipping the head of it in painstakingly slowly. 

“Ok?” He breathes against your cheek as he inches the rest of himself in slowly. You nod eagerly. When he’s sheathed all the way inside of you he groans, a little too loudly for your liking. 

“Yoongi!” You whisper shout, clamping a hand against your mouth. “Be quiet!”

He licks the inside of your palm and you squeal at the ticklish sensation,  yanking your hand away which was his goal. “Now who's the loud one?” He tries to joke but his voice is deeper, hoarser, husky,  like he’s trying to hold back from just pounding you into the mattress.

“Move, Yoongi.” You nudge your hips upward slightly, desperate to feel him,, causing him to bite down on his lip in pleasure. 

“You feel so fucking good.” He whispers in your ear as he slowly begins to rock his hips against you. “So fuking wet, so fucking warm.” He keeps his face next to the shell of your ear. “So tight for me sweetheart.”

He rests on his forearms as he begins to pick up speed. Together, after all the practice you’ve engaged in, you’ve both long since learned how to fuck quietly in your bedroom. Tonight however Yoongi seems to be losing himself more than usual. Both of you stop instantly the second your headboard hits the wall with a thud, staring at each other in fear.

After a few tense moments of waiting to ensure no one in your household has woken, Yoongi mutters a low apology before carrying on thrusting. 

“I’m close, Yoongi.” You whisper, pushing his chest up slightly so you’re able to reach down to your neglected clit. The other hand finds purchase on his shoulder. “Ohhhh,” You moan squeezing your eyes shut. You can feel Yoongi’s dark gaze on your face. Knowing he’s watching is undeniably hot. 

“Baby cum for me,” He pants. “Please, I’m so close. Wanna feel you squeeze my cock while I fill you up. I’m gonna cum in you, claim you, make you all mine.”

You’re not even sure if he’s aware of what he’s saying but it does the trick and you feel that tightly wound coil deep within you let go, and you’re coming hard around his cock. He’s gasping and swearing when he follows seconds later, slowly grinding against you to a stop.

He all but collapses against you. His skin is hot and sweaty and sticks against yours. In other scenarios it would be disgusting but you relish in it, pulling him towards you for a kiss. He tastes salty and sweet.

“Shit, that felt too good.” He chuckles breathlessly after a few moments. “I’m sorry it was so quick.”

“I loved it.”

He’s still panting when he pulls out,, rolling onto his back next to you. “What?” He asks when you start to giggle.

“Your cum is leaking out of me and it tickles.” You grab his hand and put it between your thighs. “Feel.”

“You’re gross.” He laughs but you know he doesn’t mean it when he pecks you on the cheek shortly after.

“I’m going to go clean up.” You inform him, as you awkwardly dress and make your way to the bathroom. 

When you return once again Yoongi’s semi dressed and partially under the duvet cover, patting the mattress signaling for you to join him. You clamber into bed beside him and he instantly wraps his arms around you with a yawn. “I set your alarm.” He tells you.

This is standard routine for you two so he’s able to sneak back out again undetected in the morning. You nod against his chest. As he stretches across you and flicks the bedside lamp off.

“Yoongi?” 

“Hmm?” You can tell he’s close to sleep already. 

“Will you tell me if you sleep with anyone else? I don’t want to go back to condoms but I don’t want an STD.” You shyly share. It would be a shame not to be able to have him again, raw and unrestricted. 

“Of course. I’d never put you at risk like that.” He replies sleepily. “You’re my best friend, dummy.”

“You’re the dummy, idiot.” 

“Shut up and go to sleep.” He says. You can tell from his voice he’s smiling.

It’s your last day of high school but unfortunately not the last one of your part time job as a barista at the coffee shop you work at. It’s a nice place, but it’s boring. There’s still three months left until you hopefully are leaving town for the college of your choice (in the city, you hope with all of your fingers and toes crossed for luck). Nothing terrifies you more than being stuck in your hometown. Life is for the living.

After school you head straight for your shift. Normally your shifts pass by pretty quickly but today this one drags in. You know you have a few letters watermarked with the symbols of colleges you applied to waiting at home, courtesy of an excited call from your mom to the shop. 

You have little idea what to expect, resulting in an anxiety ridden few hours of work. Driving home it takes everything in you not to speed. 

“Here, here, here!” Your excited mother is thrusting a stack of different sized envelopes into your arms. You hadn’t even put your keys down or removed your jacket yet. 

“Give me a second, jeez.” 

The nerves you feel bubble ominously deep in your gut. You try not to let it read on your face as you shrug your jacket off and toss your keys in the bowl. If anything your mother may be more excited than you. 

“Well, open them darling.” She’s practically vibrating with excitement, a wide lipsticked smile stretched across her face.

Taking a deep breath you walk to the living room. You may have to sit down for this. 

The first letter is small. The smallest one. The return label indicates that it was from a music school in Incheon. One of the choices higher up on your list. A quick scan reveals - “I got in!!!!” You shout as you stand up. Mom’s cries of joy and affirmation fall on deaf ears as your heart thunders.

By the time you’ve confirmed your acceptance to Yonsei and Seoul National your mother is crying. Last, but certainly not least is the letter to Hangyang Uniersity. Out of all your applications, Hangyang was the only place Yoongi had applied to also. The prospect of potentially going to school with him excited you.

As soon as the black and white printed ink confirms it - we would like to offer you a place on our applied psychology course - you audibly gasp. You can’t wait to tell Yoongi.

Neither Mr or Mrs Min usually arrive home before 8pm. Mr Min is a math teacher, who often works long hours before heading to a bar, whilst Mrs Min is a nurse; so when you bounce out the front door and to the house next door you know Yoongi will be home alone.

“Yoongi!” You singsong before you’ve even reached the door, knowing there’s a chance he may be able to hear you. “Yoongi-yaaa!” You knock obnoxiously on the oak, almost as if you’re tapping out a tune. “I know you’re home, your bike is in the drive!”

The door creaks as it opens, a disheveled Yoongi appearing on the other side. “I was napping.” He grumbles, tousling at his fluffy hair. You can’t help but think he looks adorable. 

“Do that later.” You tell him, with a playful eye roll. “I got into Hangyang!”

He barely has time to blink before you’re launching yourself at him, slinging both arms around his neck. It takes him a moment to react before a reluctant arm returns your enthusiastic hug. “That’s great, y/n.” He says into your hair before you seperate. 

Yoongi shuts the door behind you both. “And?” You can’t help but ask.

“And what?” He mutters walking past you and to the kitchen. You trail behind like an excited puppy.

“Don’t you ‘and what’ me. What about you? Please tell me you got in too.”

He freezes as he’s reaching for a glass. “I don’t know.” 

His words do little to kill your buzz. “What?” You laugh, assuming he’s joking. “Today is the deadline. How can you not know?”

“I just don’t, ok.” He flips on the tap and fills his glass up with water, the entire time keeping his back to you. Something is up, you’ve known Yoongi nearly your entire life. He’s withholding something. He was always the type to act defensively when he was mad, hurt, lying or all of the above.

“Yoongi, we can call the university and find out. Maybe your mail is just late.”

“I don’t want to, y/n.” He says curtly.

“Why?”

“I just don’t!” 

“You’re being so weird right now,” You frown. “Don’t you want to find out if we’re going to be going together? We’ve talked about this for years.”

“I’m not being weird. I just don’t know yet.”

“You are.”

“Just fucking drop it.” He groans, slamming his glass on to the counter with enough force that the water sloshes up over the edge. 

“Don’t talk to me like that! I have done nothing wrong!”

Finally he spins to face you, a neutral almost bored expression on his face. “You’re making a big deal out of nothing.”

“I - “ You cut yourself short, feeling a little foolish that he doesn’t seem to be as thrilled at the prospect of going to college with you. He hadn’t brought it up in a while. “I thought - thought you’d be excited. Nevermind.”

At your tone his expression softens. “Y/n, the idea of getting out of here with you sounded amazing.”

“Sounded?”

He lets out a drawn out sigh and stares at the ground. “I can’t go.”

It’s almost as if the air has been sucked rapidly out of the room. “Can’t?” You parrot back. This was the first you’d ever heard of this.

“You know what my situation at home is like. You know better than anyone. I can’t just up and leave.” He’s always hesitant, ashamed when speaking openly about what goes on behind closed doors. Even to you.

“You can, Yoongi.” You go to touch his arm for reassurance but he shrugs you off. 

“I can’t.” He grits. “I can’t leave her with him.”

“Yoonseok did.” You counter. It’s a low blow bringing up his older brother but it’s the truth. Yoonseok hightailed it out of there the second he turned sixteen, leaving eleven year old Yoongi to manage his dad alone. Yoongi’s childhood had done a number on him, burdening him in a way no child should ever be. 

“Yoonseok was a selfish dick.” He responds darkly, voice dripping with hate. “Without me, or anyone, to intervene my dad will fucking end up killing my mom. We both know it y/n.” Silent and unsure how to respond to such an uncomfortable truth you can only stare sadly at Yoongi. It’s painful to see him sacrifice so much for a family that didn’t deserve it. “I can’t leave her. It’s not safe,”

“I understand Yoongi, I do. But you can’t put your life on hold forever for your parents. At some point you need to get out, not just for your own safety but your sanity.”

“Yeah then come home to a dead mom. Great idea y/n.” He spits. “Don’t be fucking stupid. This is the reality of my situation.”

“I just want what's best for you, stop being an asshole!” You yell.

“You’re being controlling and quite frankly, kind of a cunt.” 

You scoff humorlessly in disbelief. “Really Yoongi?! Fuck you. And fuck this.”

Spinning on your heel you march towards the front door. This argument was going nowhere and you would only grow angrier if you remained in the tiny kitchen with him. One glance over your shoulder and you’re met with his glassy eyes watching you leave, the last thing you see before you slam the front door. 

Three days later you and Yoongi are still not speaking, equally as stubborn as one another. You know he’s been avoiding you because you haven’t even seen him in passing, a rare thing when your houses share a wall. So you avoid him too. Fuck him for making you feel bad when all you do is adore him, support him, care about him.

He hasn’t even attempted to apologise. If you really try you might be able to hold on to this anger for a week.

That’s the longest you’ve ever gone without speaking. And it was for something so juvenile you can’t even recall it to this day. Also, you were both twelve and kind of dumb. So you figure a week is your limit. That’s the longest you’ll go without talking to Yoongi. 

Tonight makes it particularly difficult when you hear a deafening crash and a thud. You pause, mid page turn of a book you were devouring and listen. The silence that follows is deafening. 

But then you hear it. The extremely distinct raised voice of Mr Min. It’s unclear exactly what he’s shouting but the tone is enough to send a shiver of fear through your entire body. There’s another raised voice that’s unmistakingly Yoongi. Your heart clenches at the sound of him. 

They continue like this for an uncomfortable length of time. You wonder what your parents think about this. Although it’s not a secret in your household you never exactly sit down and chat about what you hear through the walls with them.

When it goes silent you don’t relax. You gaze at the shared wall you know is Yoongi’s bedroom, almost as if your hard stare can penetrate the bricks and mortar. A selfish part of you hopes he comes over tonight, as per routine. You don’t indulge in each other’s bodies every time but you know even just your company is likely the only form of affection Yoongi gets and you want to take care of him any way you can. 

This thought takes you to the window, where you unlock the latch, expecting him hopefully soon. 

He doesn’t come. 

Yoongi lays on his bed, staring blankly at the ceiling. It’s not the water stain or the old outline of a where playboy poster used to be (he had snuck it out of Yoonseok’s collection and stuck there when he was a kid) that is captivating his attention. It’s the sound of his mom crying in the bathroom next door that’s keeping him awake.

His father had passed out a little while ago, thankfully. But not before smashing a glass dangerously close to his mom’s head and then pushing her so hard against the wall a hole appeared in the drywall. Yoongi had helped his mom clean up a few of the cuts and scrapes before she sent him out of the bathroom, claiming she wanted to wash up before bed. Her crying is breaking his heart.

Selfishly he wishes you could hear this.If you heard this you would understand in a heartbeat why he can’t leave. His mom is vulnerable. He knows you hear some of what occurs through the wall but it’s nothing as devastating as the muffled sobs his mom chokes back. The sound of a broken woman.

It makes him wonder how on Earth Yoonseok could just walk away from this and feel nothing. He hasn’t spoken to his brother since as a result. Through his Grandma he has a vague idea where Yoonseok is (doing odd jobs here and there in the city) but he doesn’t wish to know more than that. Hate is a word he reserves only for his father, but what he feels for Yoonseok is close.

He sighs, emotionally and physically exhausted, as he rolls onto his side. It’s been almost two weeks since he last saw or spoke with you and right now all he wants is to crawl into your bed and hide in you. Bury himself inside you while you clutch at him desperately. A world away from the pain and loveless home he’s trapped in right now.

He wants you so badly to be the bigger person, to be better than him like you always are. To come and find him, to sense that he needs you. He wants it so badly he aches.

Before his key is even in the door, Yoongi knows to anticipate a Bad Night. Not that the typical bad nights are easier but Bad Nights with a capital B and M are worse. He can hear his father before he even sees him and knowing that today was a weekend, and therefore a day off from work for his old man it means he’s been drinking since sun up.

He hesitates, key hovering over the lock. He could just turn away right now and pretend he had to work late. Dealing with his father’s abuse is literally draining the life out of him. For a moment he considers it, really considers it. Then he hears his mom cry out with agony. Yoongi unlocks the door.

“Mom?” He calls out as he crosses the threshold inside.

There’s a wail, followed by a whimper coming from the living room. He follows the sound. 

He’s greeted with his dad hovering over his mom who is cowering against the wall, looking smaller and frailer than ever. Something inside Yoongi snaps. With as much force as he can he shoves his father away from her. Drunk and already weary on his feet, the older man stumbles backwards a few steps before falling. 

“Are you okay?” Yoongi extends his hand to her. Shakily she places her palm in his and he helps her stand. This does not please his father who is yelling obscenities as he struggles to get to his feet. Yoongi glances at him over his shoulder and he can sense the shift in the room. “Mom, go upstairs and lock yourself in the bathroom. I’m going to talk to Dad.” He says sternly. 

“Yoongi,” She cries softly but one look at his expression and she knows how serious he is. Fearfully her eyes flicker to where her husband is, as if he somehow has the final say. It angers Yoongi like nothing else. 

By now Mr Min is standing, albeit swaying and his expression is murderous. “You shouldn’t have done that. This has got nothing to do with you stupid boy.”

“Fuck you, old man.” 

He isn’t thinking, rage is pulsing through his veins and all he can see is red when he swings a right hook at his father, fist making direct contact with the older man's jaw. Fight or flight instinct kicking in with brute force. He’s never thrown a punch before in his life. 

It takes a few dazed seconds for his opponent to recollect himself. His father looks at him with such disgust, almost as if he can’t recognise the boy standing in front of him is his own flesh and blood. Someone he was supposed to raise, protect and guide. 

Normally, he knows better than to talk back. Normally, he knows better than to get physical with his dad unless it's in defense of his mother. Normally he knows better. And now, the look in Mr Min’s eyes tell Yoongi one thing; he’s going to severely regret it.

This is your first taste of what feels like a life without Yoongi and it’s bitter. 

Fifteen days come and go with no sign from your best friend. The world feels a little emptier without him and it’s a sobering thought, that one day he might not be in your life. This realisation lights a fire under you and you decide to swallow your pride and take the first step towards reconciliation. It’s ridiculous. You and Yoongi don’t fight. It’s both of you against the world, the way it has been since you were kids.

Knowing he’s home alone again (both parents' cars are gone) you slip out of your house and make your way to his. This is probably the first time in your entire life you've ever felt nervous to see Min Yoongi. And not in a good way.

Knock knock.

You’re holding your breath as you wait and listen for signs of life from within the bricks. Silence. You knock again. 

Have five minutes passed or fifty? It’s an eternity waiting out here for Yoongi. When you’re about to turn to leave, the front door slowly creaks open. “Y/n?” 

When your eyes meet you inhale a sharp breath of air in, shocked. He has an angry black eye, swollen and purple. There’s a cut on his lip and the flesh around it is an inflamed shade of red. You don’t have to ask. You know where this came from. 

“Yoongi.” Is all you say before stepping forward and wrapping your arms around him. It’s a depressing parallel to the last encounter you had with each other. He’s silent but he returns your hold, burying his face in your hair. He inhales deeply as if it’s comforting somehow. “I’m sorry.”

“I’m sorry too.” He replies hoarsely.

“I understand why you do what you do for your mom.” You mumble into the soft cotton of his hoodie. “I just want you to be happy is all.”

“I know. I’m sorry for snapping at you.” He squeezes you a little tighter, planting a kiss on your head. 

“Please don’t ever go that long without talking to me again.” You say separating enough so you can see his face but still very much holding him in your arms. “Especially when things are this bad.” He smiles weakly and holds up a pinky, chipped with black nail polish. You link yours with his.

“Promise.” He assures.

As usual you ask - “Do you want to talk about it?”

He says nothing as he pulls you inside, lacing your hand with his. You think you know where this is going. Yoongi wants to feel loved. 

He leads you up the staircase, it groans under the weight of the two of you but otherwise the house is silent. Yoongi’s room is the first one on the upper landing, the mirror of your own bedroom in your house. The door still has a few posters of bands he had once loved and a worn logo sticker of his favorite basketball team. 

There’s a small twin bed almost identical to yours, except his is donned with a navy blue bedspread and doesn’t include the small mountain of assorted pillows that yours does. He always teases you about them, often joking he’s going to steal one and that you’d never notice. 

It’s quiet still as he leads you to the bed, sitting down first and scooting upwards until his back is flush with the headboard. “We don’t have to do anything.” He says softly as you mimic his actions. “I just missed you.”

Sometimes a person just needs someone to hold them, and you have no problem being that someone for Yoongi. Gently you pull his head to your chest and idly play with his hair, just how he likes.  A content sigh parts his lips. “I missed you too.” You tell him. “Do you know how much I wanted to run over here and tell you that Jimin came to my work, ordered a coffee, then tripped and spilled it all over himself?” 

Yoongi huffs a little laugh and you’re glad to make him smile. “Wish I’d seen that.”

“Next time don’t be a dick and maybe you could have.” You tease, knowing Yoongi has a penchant for frequenting your work for free coffee and sticking around, especially on slower days. He pinches your side playfully, although still hard enough to make you yelp. 

“I’m not a dick.” Although you can’t see his face you can hear the pout in his voice. “You live my life and then let’s see how stressed out you are.”

You were only teasing but his comment causes your heart to sink all the way to your toes. “I know you’re not.” You sigh, running your hands through his hair. “You can lean on me as much as you need. I’m basically your family at this point, Yoon.”

“Family.” He scoffs as if the word leaves a bitter taste in his mouth. “What’s that?” 

“People around you who love you.” You tell him firmly. You want to add on ‘i love you’  but the boundaries between you and Yoongi are so blurry now even you don’t know in exactly what context that would mean.

A comfortable silence settles after that. You almost wonder if he has fallen asleep, given the steady rise and fall of his breathing. You don’t know what comes over you but you pick his hand up, lacing your fingers together. He often paints his nails (you have always taunted he’s too goth to be a basketball player) and you’re examining the polish. The black paint is chipped and you stroke his index finger with yours softly.

“What are you doing weirdo?” Yoongi’s voice startles you and you freeze. 

“Your nails are totally chipped.” 

“Duh. Haven’t had time to fix them.”

“Can I paint them for you?”

He cranes his neck and gives you a confused look. “...Why?”

You’re not entirely sure yourself and you shrug. Maybe you just feel guilty and want to do something nice for him. “Okay.” He agrees slowly, still entirely not convinced but still leans forward so you can stand up and grab the bottle of polish, remover and cotton pads from his dresser. Everytime you come in his room you marvel at what a neat freak he is, everything is always so organised. 

“Black?” You confirm the color. He nods. 

You set your items out on the bed, this time opting to sit opposite Yoongi, facing him. To get close enough so that he doesn’t have to stretch his arms out uncomfortably you’re basically sitting in his lap, legs entwined. Gently you talk his palm in yours and begin to wipe away the remnants of the old paint. 

“No one has ever painted my nails before.” He chuckles. Your eyes meet and you can't help but smile. 

“That’s another first time milestone of yours I’ve taken.” Your expression turns into a wide grin. Yoongi rolls his eyes. 

He’s not delicate by any means (despite the bruises) and you don’t know why you’re treating him as such but delicate is what you are when you clean all ten of his nails. You can feel his burning gaze on you as you work; it spurs you on to do a good job. 

The room smells toxic, the fumes of the remover and the nail polish nearly make your eyes water. “Can I open the window?” You ask after the smell gets a little too much. Yoongi nods and you quickly hop off the bed and pop the frame open. The instant wave of fresh air clears your head. 

He’s watching you with a peculiar look on his face that you can’t help question but he brushes it off. You return to your earlier position and continue your handiwork. You can’t help but smile and admire the first nail, disproportionately proud of your newfound skill. Yoongi laughing ruins your moment.

“What exactly is so funny?” You question, quirking a brow. 

Still laughing he shakes his head. “You’re cute.”

The blush that creeps up from your chest to your cheeks is hot and there’s no way Yoongi doesn’t notice. He’s never really complimented you like that. In fact, he rarely says anything about your appearance, negative or positive. Occasionally when he’s mid way through fucking you something will slip out but it’s meaningless when he’s seconds away from an orgasm and not thinking clearly.

“Oh.” You mutter dumbly, trying to ignore why that makes you feel tingly inside. You carry on with your task at hand. When you’ve finished the second coat, you take him by the wrist and blow on his fingers, as if that’s going to do a whole lot to speed the drying process.

“Uh..” Yoongi makes a noise that sounds almost sexual in nature and you peer up at him with a perplexed look as you continue blowing. “This is such a douchey guy thing to say but when your mouth makes that shape....and it kinda gives me goosebumps when you do that...it reminds me of every time you’ve ever sucked my dick.”

“Oh my god.” You laugh, throwing your head back. “Seriously?!”

He nods, looking half amused, half ashamed. “They’re pretty memorable, you know.”

“Good to know.”

After his nails are dry and you’ve tidied up the mess you join him back on the bed. “Thank you.” He says, pulling you on his lap before you even have a moment to process what just happened. You straddle him, hands on his shoulders, staring intently at the injuries on his face. You brush a thumb along his bottom lip. 

“I like doing things for you.”

Yoongi holds your arm firmly in place, pressing a kiss to your thumb then bringing your hand to cup his face and planting a kiss against your wrist. His larger hand rests atop your hand, keeping it there and he nuzzles into you. There’s a palpable tension and the air suddenly feels too thick. It’s almost hard to breathe. As you get lost in his eyes it feels as if the world around you has vanished, leaving only you and Yoogi, in your own private universe. 

You lean in closer. His breath ghosts your lips. You’ve missed kissing him so much.

Then, the front door slams.

“Shit.” Yoongi flies up so quickly it’s a wonder you’re not thrown to the floor. “They’re home.” His parents are earlier than expected. 

“I’ll sneak out if you distract them?” It’s not that Yoongi’s parents don’t like you, they just a: wouldn’t approve of you being over unsupervised and without permission and b: the less fuel you can add to the fire the better. Mr Min will look for anything to be upset with when it comes to his son. 

“I’m sorry.” 

“Don’t apologise. Just go.” You push him towards the door. Before he leaves he turns to you and asks -

“ - See you tonight?”

Yoongi’s in - dare he say it - a good mood when he sneaks out later that same day. His dad passed out early (a rare but welcome occasion) leaving the Min household in a relatively peaceful state for once. Slipping out the front door, armed with a box of his mom’s homemade cookies that you love, he makes the short trip to your bedroom.

A knuckle taps quietly against the window and he can’t help but grin when he sees the excitement in your eyes. After all you had unfinished business from earlier. You bounce over to the window wearing that cute lilac pyjama short set (the one that makes it hard for him to concentrate) and let him inside. 

“They’re still awake.” You whisper, holding a finger to his lips when he goes to speak. He nods in understanding, aware you mean your parents.

“For you.” He matches your hushed tone as he passes you the box of cookies. Your eyes light up with delight and a tiny gasp leaves your lips.

“My favorite! Your mom must have been in a good mood today to be baking.”

“Dad went to bed early, so..” He shrugs.

“Thank you.” You put the box on your desk and engulf Yoongi in a hug of gratitude. 

His hands are cold when he slides them beneath your flimsy camisole, wanting nothing more than to feel your naked skin. He kneads the flesh of your bare hips under his hands before dragging his nose along the juncture of where your collarbone meets your neck and inhaling. The scent of you, your skin and your body wash was comforting and arousing. 

He wonders sometimes if you truly knew the effect you had on him as his lips ghost over your skin with the briefest of touches. He wants to drown in you. This is the only place he’s ever felt safe. 

You exhale a shaky breath that sounds a lot like his name. He pushes your hair over your shoulder allowing his lips to roam your decliotage freely. There’s not a part of your body he hasn’t kissed, he thinks. He laves his way up your throat and meets your awaiting mouth. He can taste your strawberry lip balm, a taste he will forever associate with you.

You whisper between kisses that he has to be quiet (as always) but intrigue him when you push him towards the white wooden chair that matches the desk. He sits down and you swing a leg over his lap so you’re straddling him, a more intimate version of how you were on his bed earlier. 

“This is new.” He hums, hands stroking up and down your sides. 

“Can’t have the headboard crashing into the wall again now can we?” You giggle, pushing some of his hair off his face. 

Yoongi agrees with a smirk, gaze roving over your willing body. He strips you of your camisole, before devouring your breasts, taking one in each hand and grazing a thumb over your quickly hardening nipples. His lips find purchase on your neck once more. It’s almost sinful how you’re already grinding shamelessly against him. 

“Stand up and take these off.” He commands, snapping the waistband of your little shorts to punctuate his point. Quickly you shed the clothing, kicking them off. Yoongi’s cock is aching a little now, having been pent up for a few hours now. He hastily shoves his sweatpants down enough for his member to spring free.

When you’re seated on his lap you moan in pleasure at the feeling of his hardness against your bare pussy. “I’ve missed you.” You breathe, rocking your hips enough so that the tip of his cock brushes through your lips. He shudders at the combination of your voice and sensation.

His hands can’t seem to decide exactly where he wants to touch you. One has a handful of your ass, encouraging your movements and the other is palming at your tits. Then when you beg him to touch you he knows exactly where his hands want to be.

A sense of pride washes over him every time he feels how wet he makes you. There’s a thrill in knowing he’s the only one who has ever made you like this. The only one who has ever touched you like this. His thumb circles your clit slowly. He watches you with ravenous eyes.

Your soft whines just make the ache to be inside you increase tenfold. It’s so much better than any dirty movie he’s ever seen. It’s real and it's for him. “O-Oh, Yoongi.” Your head falls forward, resting on his shoulder. “I’m ready. Please. Just want you. It’s been too long.”

The fact that two weeks without him was too long for you does nothing but inflate his ego. Rarely does Yoongi ever feel just this self assured. “You have me.” He whispers, positioning you over his swollen cock. Slowly you lower yourself onto him, taking him like the good girl you are. “Fuckkk.” He exhales when you’re completely full of him.

“It’s s-so much.” You choke. He knows exactly what you mean. This is a new position and a new angle for you both. As beginners to sex neither of you had the confidence or experience to experiment too much yet. With you speared on his lap, it’s deeper than he’s ever felt you before. 

His grip on your hips is bruisingly tight as he stills you for a moment. It’s overwhelming how good you feel and he already came far too fast last time. He bites down on the juncture of your neck and shoulder, eyes squeezed shut tight. 

Eventually he calms down enough to let you bounce on him. Your eyes threaten to roll back in your head, lids fluttering shut. His mouth hangs open and he knows he porbbaly looks so dumb right now but he couldn’t fucking care. Not with how unbelievably good it felt. 

“Yoongi,” You pant, laughing a little “You know I saw this in porn and wanted to try it.”

“Yeah - uh, wa - what?” He splutters, stilling you completely to ensure he heard you correctly. “Since when do you watch porn?”

“Last week the cable TV glitched.” You bite your lip shyly. “I may have watched some.”

“Fuck.” He growls, lifting you up and slamming you back down on his length. The idea of you watching porn, masturbating to porn and then thinking about him almost has him blowing his load immediately. God knows he’s thought about you countless times. Even before you’d had ever even had sex. “You have no. Idea. How hot that is.”

“Yeah? You think so?” You’re breathless, cheek to cheek as you whisper in his ear. 

“The idea of you touching yourself.” He groans. “Wishing it was me.”

“Of course I wished it was you.” You moan. “Think about you fucking me all the time. You can have me whenever you want me, Yoongi.”

Shit He’s so close to cumming already. Whispered obcenties tumble out from under his breath. Just as you’re starting to get too loud Yoongi covers your mouth with his hand but you grab his two of his fingers and suck them into your hot mouth, muffling your moan as you cum. The sensation of your mouth and your pussy is his undoing, and he explodes not even seconds later, cumming harder than he can ever remember. 

“You’re going to ruin me.” He pants, chest heaving. 

You laugh, pressing your sweaty forehead against his. “Not if you ruin me first.”

Weekday routine insists you always assist your mother with the after dinner clean up. When you were younger you were often (as your father put it - ‘deviously smart’) at inventing excuses to get out of chores. Now as an almost adult you, it isn’t such a hassle. It’s even nice to spend a little time talking with your mother. 

The relationship you have with your parents is the inverse of the one Yoongi has with his. It wasn’t until you understood the gravity of his situation did you really start appreciating them in a newfound way. You could be a bratty kid in your youth, like everyone but you thank your lucky stars you had a loving, safe environment.

“Careful with that plate darling, it’s china.” Your mom instructs as she hands you the dinner plate, knowing full well how clumsy you can be. 

“How about we just eat from paper plates now on? They don’t break.”

Your mom cracks a smile as she shakes her head. “When it’s your house you can make the rules.” She gives you a pointed look. After a few moments of silence she asks - “How is Yoongi? I haven’t seen him over in a while.”

You look away to hide the blush that floods your cheeks. He’s over nearly every other night, mother. Right under your nose.

“He’s fine. Same old, same old.” You sigh, stretching up on to your tip toes as you put the precious plate away. 

“Is he joining you at Hangyang in September?” You mom pries. 

Oh shit. You’d forgotten to tell her. “Uh, no. No he’s not.”

“Oh sweetie. I’m sorry. I know you two were looking forward to it. It’s a shame he didn’t get in.” 

“That’s not why.” You take yet another precious china plate from her to dry. “It’s his parents.”

“Oh.” 

You don’t have to elaborate any further. It’s not a secret in your home. Your parents aren’t deaf, they hear everything you do. “I wish he would leave them. He’s worried for his mom.”

A long, forlorn sigh leaves your mother. “Gosh when he was young your father and I would phone the police on the really bad nights.” She tells you with a shake of her head.

“What? Seriously?” This was brand new information to you. She nods.

“Mrs Min always defended her husband. Made us look like we were imaging things. It’s so sad.” Her eyes grow misty. “I don’t blame that poor Yoonseok for running away. At one point we even tried to adopt Yoongi, you know.”

“Fuck, really?”

“Language.” Your mother warns and you hastily apologise, desperate to hear more of the story. “Yes. He spent so much time here, it was like he was our kid anyway. We seriously looked into it, hired a lawyer and a social worker. But it was too difficult. Mrs Min stopped talking to us for a long time.”

“I had no idea.” You breathe, awed. Although the idea of Yoongi potentially being your brother makes you feel nauseous now, given everything. 

“Mrs Min is a nice woman. She adores her children but she struggles.” Your mom says empathetically. “As for Mr Min? He was the picture perfect father and husband for a good while when they first moved in. You were too young to remember.” 

“I wish I could help them.” 

“I know you do honey. If only it was so simple.” You mom smiles. “Yoongi is lucky to have you. That boy is welcome in our home any time, as far as I’m concerned. And tell him I was asking after him won’t you?”

“Of course. He’ll like that you were.”

Aside from Yoongi, Anni is probably the person you’re closest with. The juxtaposition between her and Yoongi is almost comical, like night and day. She is bubbly, fun and out-going; a stark contrast to Yoongi’s more foreboding and at times broody nature. Of course he was fun, but in such a different way. 

Anni somehow persuades you to accompany her to a house party. Your entire high school life you’ve only ever been to a handful. They’re not exactly your thing. But college is encroaching and that’s what you’re supposed to be doing there right? Partying, drinking, occasionally studying. So it doesn’t take a lot of convincing to get you prettied up and ready to go.

It’s Seyoon’s house that’s your destination, a guy in your year you’ve only spoken to a handful of times. The moment you set foot in the crowded building you already feel awkwardly out of place. As if your friend senses this she whispers in your ear, “You look great, don’t think so much.” while pushing you through the crowd. 

The first point of call is obviously alcohol. Together you do two shots each before grabbing a cup of something questionable. “Oh! There’s Soomin. Let’s go say hi.”

Soomin was Anni’s friend, someone you only knew by acquaintance. You spot her talking to a group of two guys and a girl you recognise but don’t know her name.  You instantly feel a little nervous, one of the guys is clearly older, and not to mention handsome. He looks like a model, beautiful dark hair coiffed perfectly. 

Soomin is very friendly and greets you both with welcoming hugs before introducing you to the group. “This is Yeona, her boyfriend Jongsuk and my cousin Seokjin.” 

“You don’t go to our school. You look like you spend your time in a drama as the male lead.” Anni teases Seokjin playfully. Of course she would be flirting right off the bat. He takes it in stride, shaking his head with a grin. 

“I used to. I just finished my first year at Hangyang Uni.” 

“That’s where I’m going next year.” You smile up at him. When he makes eye contact you blush like the school kid you technically are. 

“Really? That’s great. What are you studying?” He asks, stepping a little closer so he can hear you over the music. 

“I’m hoping to get my degree in Psychology and Sociology.” 

“Are you joking?” He laughs. At once you’re confused. You don’t exactly look like the studious academic type, and he doesn’t have to be rude about it.

“No…” You frown. “Why?”

“I’m a psychology student too. You’ll probably even be on the same campus as me!” He grins.

“Ohhhh, that’s cool! What are the odds?” 

“I know? Isn’t that so weird?” He laughs. 

“Do you enjoy it?” You ask, genuinely curious. That’s been a big fear of yours, worried you’ll begin your (expensive) further education and hate it. 

“I love it. I’ve always been interested in Psychology so learning from some of the best experts in the country is amazing.” He looks like a kid on christmas, eyes lighting up as he speaks. This guy might be model handsome on the outside but he is a total geek. It’s so endearing, you can’t help but like it.  “It’s a great school. You’ll enjoy it.”

By now the others' conversations have died out. Seokjin’s eyes dart downwards to your empty drink. “Want another?” 

“Yeah alright.”

“Come with me, I can tell you about all the cool spots on campus and what books not to buy.” He grabs you by the wrist as he says a quick ‘be right back’ to Yeona. Anni gives you a knowing smirk but you mouth ‘shut up’ at her. 

Hoseok’s sunny, cheerful demeanour is something Yoongi normally appreciates about his friend. Unless it’s used as a weapon against him, like it is tonight. This is how he finds himself sipping on a disgustingly warm beer in the corner of Seyoon’s vast living room, doing nothing more exciting than people watching. 

You had told him earlier in the week you’d been roped into attending. Maybe that’s why he’d agreed to go with less resistance than usual. If he was truly honest with himself he was scanning the room, hoping to find you and turn this night around. The few times you’d got drunk together were always fun. 

He spies Anni first, talking to a group of people, which means you can’t be far off. He knows you went with her. That’s when some movement catches his eye. 

Initially it’s the tall pretty boy who alerts his attention, but his gaze drops downward to see him leading you of all people somewhere, wrist firmly encaptured in his grip.

Something hot and prickly rises in his chest and his heart feels like it’s screeched to a halt. If he witnesses this strange boy take you upstairs he might just lose it. That’s what usually happens at these parties.

He exhales a shaky breath of relief when the two of you make a beeline for the kitchen. Although the adrenaline rush isn’t gone yet, his heart is still thundering his ribcage. Through a small gap in the crowd he sees you talking, smiling, laughing. You look like you’re having fun. He doesn’t want to ruin that.

“Do you want another?” Hoseok nudges him with his elbow, gesturing with his head to the nearly finished beer Yoongi clutches. 

He does want another but that would mean going into the kitchen, so he refuses.

“Come on, little MinMin.” Hoseok teases, using Yoongi’s least favourite nickname. He hates being called little, or tiny, or short. “I know you want one.”

“Fine but I’m staying here. Fetch it for me.” 

Hoseok sticks his tongue out at him before grabbing his empty bottle and disappearing with it.

“Me? No I’m not really into the partying side of college life but I can show you where to go if you are.” Seokjin has been sharing his wisdom for you for the last forty minutes. Evidently he’s learned a lot in a year at Hangyang. “I read books and chill. By myself.” He laughs and you join him. 

“It’s funny how we both aren’t the partying type and we literally met at a party.” You can’t help but chuckle, shaking your head at the absurdity of the situation. “Should we rejoin the others?”

Seokjin agrees and as you two exit the kitchen you see the back of someone’s head that looks a lot like Yoongi’s friend Hobi. You hesitate for a minute, attempting to decipher if it really is him or not when a subtle touch at the small of your back from Seokjin jolts you back into the present. 

“Come on.” He’s so unintentionally suave. It makes your heart beat just a little faster. 

Anni is animatedly telling the story of when you and her accidentally tried to give her white maltese dog Pricilla a bath and accidentally turned her pink with the wrong shampoo. “Your mom still hasn’t let me live that done!” You join in at the end. 

“Neither has Pricilla.” Anni grins.

“Please tell me you don’t have a dog.” Seokjin asks, grabbing both your shoulders in dramatic mock concern. “Please y/n, think about the animals!”

“I didn’t act alone!” You defend shooting a glare at Anni, who is playing innocent. 

“Well it’s a good thing you’re not allowed animals on campus.” Seokjin smirks. Anni gives you yet another knowing look. You can practically see the internal cogs of her brain whirring to life. Ever since Jimin she’s been dying for you to at least hook up with someone. Little did she know about Yoongi.

“You two should meet up when you’re both at school.” The look on Anni’s face tells you she’s assuming she’s doing you a favour, a gentle nudge forward in your romantic life. 

Before you can awkwardly deflect the question and give Seokjin an escape he answers first. “Yes we should, y/n. If you want.”

“Uh, sure.” You don’t see why not. As of now he’s the only person you know at Uni. It might make the transition a little more fluid. 

“Maybe y/n you can give him your number?” Anni meddles further. Oh god, you look so desperate now. You’re not interested in dating him and she’s making it seem like you are.

“I’ll have a different number when I’m at school.” You remind her. 

Seokjin reads between the lines, sensing he’s not quite privy to all the information. “No problem, I’ll give you mine.” 

He excuses himself for a moment, to grab a pen and paper. You look to see where he’s going and your eyes land on the one person you did not expect to see here. Yoongi. Yoongi watches you as he makes his way out onto the patio with Hoseok, dark eyes unreadable. Your heart leaps. Immediately you want to go over and say hello but you can’t. With one final glance he disappears through the sliding doors. Why do you feel like you’ve been caught doing something wrong?

“Here.”

Seokjin hands you a slip of paper with his home number and campus number. “Kim Seokjin.” You read aloud to yourself. “Thank you for this. I just saw my good friend here so I’m going to say hello. It was lovely meeting you!”

“You too.” He smiles warmly. 

“Come on Anni, Hobi’s here.” You inform her and her eyes widen in surprise. She likes Hobi. A lot. It’s the sweetest thing. 

“Bye Seokjin!” 

You drag Anni away before she can do any more damage.

Yoongi and Hoseok are sitting on the railing of the large wooden patio, joined by Jungkook who seemed to materialize out of nowhere. He’s talking energetically about something but Yoongi isn’t really focusing. He spots you walking over to him. Your face lights up as soon as your eyes meet. It makes him feel funny.

“I didn’t think you would be here.” You smile brightly as you come to a stop before him. 

“Hobi tricked me.” He shrugs, sipping his beer. The frown that his dry response elicits makes him feel guilty. “Are you two having fun?” He nods his head towards Anni.

“Y/n was.” She giggles, nudging you suggestively. “How about you two? I haven’t seen you in a while Hoseok.”

He flashes her a winning smile. “You’re seeing me now.” 

Yoongi fights an intense urge to roll his eyes. Hobi’s flirting always made him cringe. It’s even worse when it actually works. Hoseok offers everyone a drink but only Anni takes him up on the offer. Together they disappear in search of alcohol, leaving Yoongi alone with you. He feels awkward for some reason.

“You know she likes him, right? Hobi.” You say after a few beats of silence pass between you. Yoongi figured, from the way Anni hung on Hoseok’s every word.

“I’m sure he’d be down to hook up. He’s not picky.” He mutters. 

“Yoongi.” You scold. “They suit each other. They would be cute together.”

He hums in response. You’re right, of course but he’s not really in the headspace to be getting giddy about whether two people will fuck or not. 

You hoist yourself onto the railing next to him, scooting close enough that your bodies are touching. He tenses when you lay your head on his shoulder. “You’re not in a good mood tonight.” It’s not a question, you’re just consistently excellent at reading his emotions.

“You know I hate parties.” He mumbles. 

“Me too.”

“You looked like you were having fun earlier. Don’t feel obligated to sit with me.” He speaks before he thinks. It makes him sound bitter and jealous and angry. He hates it because not only does it make him sound pathetic; it’s true.

“I want to sit with you.” You correct quietly.

He doesn’t know how to respond, praise and affection always make him feel a little awkward. For a while you sit in comfortable silence, just watching the rest of what seems like the world have fun. Yoongi spies that tall pretty boy you were talking to glancing over and he feels a little smug at the disappointment on the strangers face seeing you and Yoongi looking cosy together. 

“Those two have been taking a suspiciously long time.” Yoongi muses, attention now back on his beer. 

“Yeah,” You huff a laugh. “I wonder why…”

“Do you wanna get out of here?” Yoongi asks abruptly. “Let’s go to the diner. I’m hungry.”

“That sounds like a plan.” You agree to his surprise. 

At your suggestion you seek out Hoseok and Anni to extend an invitation, only to find them kissing in a darkened corner of the hallway. Yoongi rolls his eyes while you snicker - “About time.”

When Yoongi smiles - really smiles - his entire demeanour changes. He has the tendency to look intimidating and cold when his expression is neutral (“I can’t help my face!” he would always defend when people mentioned it) but when he laughs his eyes light up like stars. You adore his gummy smile. 

The thought captures you in the diner as the two of you are doubled over with laughter. You were trying to throw a french fry into Yoongi’s mouth but missed completely, hitting an older woman in the booth behind, directly on the forehead. 

“No wonder you suck at basketball with an aim like that.” He grins, stuffing some fries in his mouth. 

“I’m so embarrassed.” You cover your reddening face with your hands but you’re still laughing. 

“It’s a good thing we’re Mike’s best customers or I’m sure we would have been kicked out by now.” Yoongi points out. He’s right. The greasy, twenty four hour diner has been your hang out for years now. 

“I’m going to miss it when I’m at college. I’ll have to make special trips back for the strawberry milkshakes.” You realise. 

“What about me?!” He scoffs playfully. “Nice to know on your list of priorities I’m below milkshake.”

“You know you’re my favourite.” You coo, stealing a fry from his hand before he has the chance to bite it. The look of indignation he gives you only makes you giggle. 

You walk home together, happy and still a little buzzed from the alcohol at the party. Somewhere along the way the back of Yoongi’s hand brushes against yours and he laces your fingers together. 

Summer persists in much the same way. Yoongi gets a job across the street from your work as a full time record store employee. He enjoys talking about music in his free time, so he figures he may as well get paid for it. You’re happy for him and he seems a little more content. You coordinate lunch breaks when you can, meeting to eat in the sunshine. 

Once a week Yoongi brings you a record or cassette he thinks that you’ll like. Sometimes he leaves little notes inside the sleeve of the vinyl, secret messages just for you. They range from random thoughts of his, inside jokes or just which song he loved the most. It’s such a Yoongi thing to do.

You make and bring him iced americano’s, on the house of course. At this point you’re pretty sure everyone he works with assumes you are a couple. What’s weird is that it doesn’t bother you in the slightest. 

If you thought the boundaries between you and Yoongi were blurred before, it’s even more confusing now. Yoongi treats you as if you’re his girlfriend, but only when you’re alone of course. When your other friends are around no one would suspect anything at all is going on between you. To say it’s messing with your head is an understatement. You wonder if Yoongi is going through the same mental turmoil about this as you are.

Probably not, if you’re being truly honest with yourself. A part of you knows he’s just latching on to you for comfort, for a way of coping. It’s not like his home life has magically improved in the last few weeks. Truthfully it seems to be steadily worsening. 

It’s pathetic how willing you are to pretend that it’s real. That you belong to Yoongi and he to you. Your mother once told you, amidst your heartbreak over Jimin while you had been blaming yourself for him cheating, that if someone wanted to do something, they would, regardless of you. She said it to comfort you but the words haunt you now. If Yoongi wanted you to be together, wouldn’t he ask?

You’re leaving for college soon. You won’t have Yoongi for much longer. So for now, you’ll allow yourself this indulgence, and just enjoy being with him.

“Please tell me you are not taking these.” Anni exclaims, holding up a pair of chunky black platform boots. “They’re the ugliest things I’ve ever seen.” She giggles at the look of outrage on your face. 

You’ve recruited Anni and Yoongi to help you pack some of your belongings since it’s only seven short days until you leave for Hangyang and could use the extra pair(s) of hands. The afternoon has consisted mainly of Anni questioning your taste whilst Yoongi rocks on your desk chair, attempting to solve a rubix cube he managed to find. 

“Yes I am taking those! They’re cute and they make me feel tall.” You snatch the shoes from her and place them in your suitcase. “Right Yoongi?” You ask, looking for backup.

“Yeah, sure, whatever.” He mumbles without even bothering to look up from the toy in his hands. 

“I’m going to miss you and your ugly shoes so much.” Anni sighs dramatically earning an eye roll from you. 

“I’m only one hour away from your school babe.” You remind her. Like you, she’s also leaving Daegu for Seoul. “It’ll be easy for us to meet up.”

“Have you met your roommates yet?” She inquires, inspecting yet another pair of your shoes. 

“Yeah, I’m with two girls. They seem nice enough. We have our own separate rooms which is nice.”

“That means you can have boys over.” She says suggestively. You hear Yoongi scoff slightly under his breath. 

“Yeah yeah,” You dismiss. “Speaking of boys, what’s going on with you and Hobi?” 

“He does not shut up about you.” Yoongi pipes up to Anni’s delight. “Seriously. It’s annoying.”

“I like him a lot. And we get on great.” She gushes, face lighting up. “But we’re going to be so far apart come September.” While you both are leaving for the city, Hoseok is going south for school.

“You can still date long distance.” You suggest.

“No you can’t.” Yoongi cuts in bluntly. “It won’t work.”

“What?” You look at him incredulously. “Of course they can.”

“No they can’t.” He rebuts, leaning forward resting his arms on his knees.. “It might work for a while. But she’ll be busy and will be meeting new people and he won’t be a priority anymore, because he doesn’t fit into her new life!”

“She cares about him! She’ll make time for him to fit into her life!”

“That’s bullshit. It won’t happen.” Yoongi jeers, a nasty undertone to his words that’s far too visceral to be directed at Anni.

“Alright, jeez. Calm down you two.” Anni looks between you, wide eyed. “I know you both care about me and Hobi but you don’t have to take it so personally.”

You and Yoongi lock eyes for a moment, a secret realization transpires between you, about exactly why you’re taking one another’s words so seriously. Before the tension in the room can worsen, your mom knocks on the bedroom door.

“Come in.” You call. She pokes her head through the door. “Hey mom.”

“How’s the packing going?” She inquires, peering around the room.

“Getting there.” You exhale, blowing some stray hairs away from your forehead.

“Good, good.” She nods. “I just got back from the supermarket, I bumped into Kim Jangmi and we had a very interesting chat.”

“Kim Jangmi?” You struggle to recall the name. It sounds familiar but you don’t exactly know the name of every single one of your mother’s friends. 

“Yes! You know, from my book club? Anyway she was with her son and we all got to chatting and apparently you met him a few weeks ago. Kim Seokjin!”

“Oh….yeah.” You mumble. “He goes to Hangyang and we ended up speaking for a bit.” 

“The handsome guy from the party?!” Anni interrupts keenly.

“Gosh, he is handsome isn’t he?” Your mother agrees, a little too enthusiastically for your liking. “He said you’re going to meet up at school?”

You glance at Yoongi before you answer, he  is clearly pretending not to be interested in the conversation, looking at the rubix cube as if it is the most interesting thing he’s ever seen. “Maybe. I don’t know. I barely know him.”

“He gave you his phone number.” Anni chirps. 

Yoongi’s eyes flick to you.  

“He was just being friendly.” You feel defensive for some reason. “We are on the same course, that’s all.”

“He’s a really nice boy, y/n. The reason why I came here was to tell you he’s going to help us when you move in next week.” Your mom beams.

“What?” You gasp, annoyed. “Why did you have to rope him into that?!” 

“He offered!” 

You sigh, feeling frustrated and defeated. “Okay mom. I'm sure that’s a lie, but ok.”

“Stop being difficult, darling.” She sighs. “I’m going to start on dinner now. Yoongi, Anni, you’re both welcome to stay.”

Yoongi and Anni both say thank you before your mother bids her goodbye. It’s odd in the room now; you feel exposed as if Yoongi just found out a secret you’ve been hiding. You want to tell him you’re not interested in Seokjin. You want to tell him you’re only interested in him. But you can’t. So the three of you continue packing.

Anni doesn’t sense the tension. “I hope your mom is making mac and cheese for dinner. Hers is the best.”

Seven days feels like a substantial amount of time but it’s not, Yoongi has come to understand. His last week with you flew by and he wishes he had even just one more day before you depart for Seoul. Seoul feels final. Seoul feels like the end.

Your life is going to change drastically, in almost every aspect, while his will remain the same. He knows it, feels it in his gut, that you’re going to leave him behind. You were always better than him, too good for him and now you’re going to realise it. And he’s been clinging on like a desperate man.

Somehow he manages to convince you to sneak out. It’s one am and you have to be up early for the big move but he’s grateful when you agree anyway. He’s waiting for you in his car. It’s silent apart from the low thrum of the idle engine and some indie rock playing over the radio at a low volume. 

You slip out of your front door, in a hoodie that Yoongi notes belongs to him. He can’t help how the sight makes his heart swell and excitement begin to race through him. He leans across the console and opens the passenger door for you. “Hi.” You whisper with a smile. 

“Hi.” He whispers back. 

He waits for you to buckle your seatbelt before pulling off. The roads are almost deserted at this time, a fact he finds oddly soothing. 

“Do I get to know where we are going or…?” You ask, peeking at him slyly out of the corner of your eye. 

“You’ll know in a minute.” Is his response. He’s taking you to a spot you’ve both been many times before. There’s an observatory at one of the highest points in town which gives an amazing view of the landscape below as well as the stars. It’s peaceful.

When he parks in the abandoned parking lot (the observatory has long since closed, lying abandoned now) there’s a fond smile playing on your lips. You like it here, having always been fond of the night sky. “Is there a reason you brought me here?”

Yes. 

“No,” He answers with a shrug. “Just wanted to have a nice last night with you.”

“You’re acting like I’m going to war or something.” You laugh. “I’ll be back and forth between here and Uni all the time.”

You say that now but he thinks (knows) the reality will be much different. 

He’s silent as he draws you in for a kiss. Hands cup your face and he pours as much intensity as he can into the gesture. His name falls breathlessly from your lips as he pulls away. “I need to tell you something.” He manages to choke out. He’s nervous and it constricts his vocal chords.

You blink a few times before your eyes widen with worry. “Is everything okay Yoongi?” 

“Yeah! Yeah..” He tries to convince you. “With you leaving and all I just wanted to let you know. Y/n… you mean a lot to me.” He takes a deep breath, an attempt to summon some courage, whilst you watch him curiously. “Our..friendship is different now. Things have changed.” No shit, he thinks. “I like you. So much. More than anyone else. I - I, you, you know?”

He wants to verbalise that he loves you so badly, but his brain is blocking the words from escaping. He feels like a fool. An emotionally stunted fool.

“Yoongi,” You say gently. Your eyes search his own and he knows you understand what he’s trying to say. You’ve always been excellent at reading him. “Me too.”

“I’ve never felt like this about anyone before.” He confesses in a low voice. “You’re everything to me.”

“I feel exactly the same.”

His heart constricts before thudding wildly in his chest. This was the answer he had hoped before. He hooks your pinky with his just like he always does. “Promise me if things change when you’re away we’ll be friends.” He can hardly look at you as he asks his desperate question.

“I promise.”  You squeeze his pinky tightly. “Nothing will change. You will always have me, Yoongi.”

Little more words and confessions are exchanged between you. Yoongi fucks you in the back seat of his car for what he hopes isn’t that last time. It’s different, passionate and slow. The windows steam up just like in the movies.

Still naked and sticky on top of you, he stretches forward and draws a heart in the condensation on the window. He writes both of your initials inside of it, then kisses you through your adorable giggles. 

The sun begins to rise and you watch it together before he drives you home.

The next time you will see Yoongi will be December. Three whole months from now. The thought anxiously chews away at your insides as you watch his house disappear in your rearview mirror. He has the phone number of your dorm and you promised to arrange regular phone catch ups. With your mother’s blessing you gave him a copy of the key to your house so he will always have a refuge, even if you’re not there to be one for him.

Areum and Oli are surprisingly easy to get along with. It’s never easy to live with people so you’re thankful you lucked out with some decent roommates. The first night away from home the three of you spend the evening drinking wine, eating take out and getting to know one another. 

Your room is cute, decorated with a few polaroids of you and friends and some fairy lights that twinkle at night. Among them is two pictures of you with Yoongi. The first from when you were ten and your mom managed to catch him and you napping on the sofa together and the second was from the last few months and he’s wearing that smile you love. It only makes you miss him more.

College officially doesn’t start for one week, the seven remaining days are filled with orientations and registrations and parties. Almost every bar and restaurant in the area have deals and themed nights on in order to entice the students out and it works.

The third night as an official Hangyang student you find yourself at dinner with Seokjin. After he had struggled to get your mattress into your room he had winked at you and said ‘you can make it up to me by buying me dinner’. Sufficiently guilty at receiving so much of his help you had agreed.

“I spent almost my entire first year here.” He jokes as he sits opposite you at a typical burger place he’d insisted you take him to. “You won’t find a better burger in a fifty km radius.”

“We’ll see. I have plenty of time to find out.”

Now that you’re out of the earshot of your parents you take the time to apologise for them roping him into helping you move. Seokjin waves it off with a genuine smile. If you didn’t know better you would think he wanted to help you. 

Surprisingly it’s easy to spend time with him and you soon discover you have a lot in common, beyond being on the same course and coming from the same town. He watches re-runs of 80s sitcoms too and loves bad horror movies. He even has the same obsession with milkshakes you do. 

“Let’s share one.” He suggests, ordering only one lone milkshake from the waitress. 

“This isn’t 1950. Or lady and the tramp.” You laugh, scrunching up your noise. 

“Hey! Lady and Tramp share spaghetti. Have some respect.” 

“Oh I’m sorry, I naturally should have assumed that you, a twenty two year old college male felt so strongly towards an old disney film.” You giggle.

He leans in close and beckons you to do the same, as if he’s going to whisper a secret. “I think it’s the cutest film ever.”

“Aw, you’re a secret softie.” You smile.

“The softest.” He agrees. 

Your milkshake arrives and it suddenly dawns on you why he wanted to order one to share. This thing was as large as a two liter bottle, and after a huge burger you doubt you could have finished one alone. 

It’s almost - dare you say it - cute, sharing the dessert with him. You’re glad you agreed to the dinner. It’s been years since you spent time with another boy that wasn’t Yoongi and it’s nice. Between some of the classmates you’ve met, your roommates and Seokjin college feels hopeful. You’re excited. 

You go to pay the check but Seokjin stops you with a laugh, assuring you he was only joking before. “Let me treat you, as a thanks for your time.” He says before walking away with a grin. 

Three weeks away from home and your routine is beginning to shape and settle itself. Classes aren’t as hard as you expect them to be but you have a sneaking suspicion it won’t stay that way for long. Seokjin offers to help if you need it and you’re grateful that he’s slowly becoming a friend. 

Thursday nights have become a regular thing in your new home. Areum, Oli and yourself make it a thing to have dinner together and gossip about the week. Oli is majoring in sports medicine so is almost always busy while Areum is studying law, which all but shackles her to the library. 

There’s a knock on the door and you hop to your feet, hungry and eager to receive the chinese food you’d ordered for the three of you. To your surprise is Seokjin on the other side and not the delivery guy you’ve become so familiar with as of late. 

“Seokjin. Hey! What brings you here?” You ask, trying not to sound too put out. As far as you were aware you had no prior plans arranged.

“I just finished my shift at the library and thought I’d come see my favourite freshman.If that’s okay?” He eyes you curiously.

“My roommates and I were just about to have dinner. Unless you want to join?” One more can’t hurt and usually you order far too much food anyway. He agrees eagerly with a smile 

Areum and Oli have met Seokjin once before and they greet him warmly when he joins the three of you in the small sitting area. Areum helps you grab some plates and napkins in preparation for the food arriving. Once in the kitchen she peeks over her shoulder to make sure she’s not heard, whispering lowly - “Are you two dating now?” 

“W-what?” You stutter, so completely taken aback you almost drop the porcelain you’re holding. “No!” 

“Don’t look so offended.” Areum laughs at your reaction. “He’s gorgeous. And so into you.” “No he’s not. Don’t be ridiculous.” You’re quick to defend. Seokjin is your friend and nothing more. You have Yoongi. Sort of. 

“So you wouldn’t mind if he and Oli…?” She nods her head towards the two of them, talking and smiling.

“Of course not.” You answer sharply. Areum looks at you as if she doesn’t believe you but doesn’t press the topic further as you rejoin your friends.

“Oh y/n, before I forget someone called for you this afternoon. I totally forgot to say before I had my nap.” Oli says as you sit down. “That Yoongi guy.” 

Both of the girls are familiar with Yoongi, given the amount you speak with him.  You called each other every other night, it was unusual for him to call during the day. “Oh. Thank you for letting me know. Do you guys mind if I call him back real quick before dinner?”

Your friends assure you it’s fine and you disappear to the kitchen where the house phone resides. Quickly you dial Yoongi’s number, having long since memorised it. You eye the clock, hoping it’s him that answers and not one of his parents. Thankfully your silent prayer is answered when his gruff voice greets.

“Yoongi, it’s me.” You begin quietly. “I’m so sorry I missed your call today, I only just found out - “

“ - It’s okay.” He interupts gently. “You’re calling now.”

“How are things?”

He lets out a worrying sigh. Something in your gut alerts you that things are not good for him right now. “Mom’s in the hospital. Courtesy of Mr Asshole himself.” He spits the last part out with venom.

“Oh my god. Is she okay?” 

“Yeah. No. Well, she’s alive. He broke her jaw, knocked out a few teeth.” He says it so casually, it only further exemplifies how used to this behaviour he has become. It’s a miracle he is nothing like his father. “She lied about it to the doctors but y/n, they know. I can see it in their eyes and they either look at us like we’re stupid or that they pity us.”

“I’m sure they don’t think that. They probably see instances like this all the time. It’s heartbreaking as an outsider.” You assure. “This could be a huge turning point. To actually get your mom away from your dad.”

“Yeah.” He exhales. It’s clear he doesn’t believe your nor agree. “Fuck, I wish you were here right now y/n.”

“Me too.” You reply softly, heart aching in your chest. You wish you were too. “It’s almost the weekend, maybe I can book a train home?” You have your first assignment due in a week and definitely don’t have the time to waste at home but for Yoongi you would do anything. 

“You don’t have to do that.” He sounds choked up. You wonder if he’s crying. “I’ll be busy looking after my mom anyway. I just needed to hear your voice. I miss you.”

“I miss you. Remember you have my key? Use it as much as you need it. You can always come up here for a day or a weekend.” You suggest.

The knock at the door signalling that the food has arrived is loud enough that Yoongi hears it through the phone. Areum’s voice yells to you as she answers it. “Sounds like you have to go. I’m sorry if I’ve ruined your evening.” Yoongi tells you sadly.

“Can I call you later?” You ask hopefully.

“Please.” Yoongi sighs. 

“Bye Yoongi. Speak soon.”

“Bye.”

You hang up, plastering on a fake look of happiness as you rejoin your friends. They seem convinced, apart from Seokjin. “Boyfriend troubles?” He asks, in a not so subtle attempt of inquiring information of your relationship status. Areum and Oli exchange a knowing glance. 

“No,” You reply with a shake of your head. “I don’t have a boyfriend. Just checking in with a friend back home.” 

“I see.” Seokjin side eyes you, a secret smile tugging at his lips. 

Strangely, Yoongi sleeps better knowing his mother is in the safety of the hospital. He spends the night alone, dad having long since fucked off somewhere. Yoongi doesn’t know where and more importantly, he doesn’t care. There’s peace in his home for the first time in forever.

His mind wanders to you. He hopes he hasn’t ruined your evening too much. From what you’ve shared through the phone college life is kicking off to a wonderful start. He wishes he could experience it too.

As you had anticipated, month two of college has your workload almost doubling. Thursday night dinners don’t happen weekly anymore, given how much time you spend studying just to keep up with the rest of your classmates. When you were in high school your natural ability allowed you to not just get by but succeed. 

To be struggling, this early on in college, feels embarrassing. 

You talk less frequently with Yoongi and your family. In fact you barely even see the people you live with. Seokjin, however you see often, given that he works in the library. The single downside to this means he’s the only one who knows your secret. That college is hard and you’re drowning a little.

Once again, it’s a friday night and you’re buried in a mountain of books, furiously taking notes. Your hand aches, you have eye strain and your stomach has been gurgling for the last hour and a half. The sound of the chair opposite you screeching along the marble floor forces you to lift your head. 

“You’re here more than I am.” It’s Seokjin, smiling at you as he plops down onto the chair. 

You sigh. “Yeah, we’ve got a huge essay due soon and I need to do well.”

“I can help you if you want. I’ve passed that course, remember?” He taps the side of his temple. “I’m as smart as I am handsome y/n.”

You can’t help but laugh as you roll your eyes. “I could use some help.” You begin timidly. “If you don’t mind! And you’re not busy. I know it’s Friday…”

“I’m happy to make time for you.” He smiles and you feel like a fool when it makes you blush. 

Seokjin spends a further hour in the library with you and your coursework. He helps you tweak the essay where it needs it, knowing exactly what the professors are looking for. By the time you’re almost done it feels as if a weight has been lifted from your shoulders. Your stomach embarrassingly gurgles again and that’s when he decides you’ve had enough for one night.

“Come on, we’re getting food.” He is so commanding you can’t help but go along with it. 

Both of your roommates are out for the night so heading to your place seems like the best idea, opting to pick up some food on the way. You’re so dead on your feet having Seokjin practically push and pull you around and then home is welcomed.

The shrill pitch of a telephone ringing welcomes you as you cross the threshold into your apartment. You dash for the phone leaving Seokjin to deal with the paper bag of take out food. “Hello?”

“Hey.” It’s Yoongi. “I’ve been calling you for ages, y/n. Where’ve you been?”

“I’ve been studying. I guess I lost track of time.”

“You said you’d call me at seven.” Yoongi sounds grumpy and defensive. You wonder what’s happened at home now.

“I’m sorry. School is kicking my ass Yoongi.”

“Then don’t tell me you’ll call me at seven if you’re busy.” He almost spits at you. Someone’s clearly in a bad mood tonight.

“I said I was sorry.” 

You watch Seokjin behind you as he dishes the food on plates for you both, politely pretending to not listen to your conversation. He has no choice, the phone is stuck to the wall, leaving you trapped there. 

Yoongi heaves a long sigh on the phone. “I’m just struggling a little too.” He admits, leaving you feeling instantly guilty. 

“How's your mom?”

“Not good, but not any worse.” 

“I know it’s hard without me and Hobi there, but christmas is soon and I’ll be home for nearly four weeks.” You remind him. 

“I can’t wait.”

Before you can reply Seokjin’s voice is tearing you away from the conversation. “Do you want to eat in your room or the couch?”

“Couch.” You reply, hand over the receiver in an attempt to mute your voice. 

“Who is that?” Yoongi's voice is terse.

“Just a friend staying for dinner.”

“It’s a guy.” Yoongi states.

“A friend.”

“You said you were studying.”

“I was.”

“It doesn’t sound like it. You’re ditching me for a college boy already and it’s only been a few weeks. Glad I’m so memorable to you.”

He hangs up and you stand there in shock, the sound of the dial tone echoing in your ear.

Yoongi slams the phone down, an action that is usually satisfying but does nothing for him in the moment. He squeezes his eyes shut and takes a few deep breaths, willing the anger he feels surging to subside. How could you move on so easily? He definitely had not imagined your feelings for him. So either he was stupid, or you had lied.

You’re hanging out with a guy who is comfortable enough to suggest being alone together in your bedroom and you have the audacity to claim he’s ‘just a friend’. He’s someone you clearly are overly familiar with. Yoongi scoffs out loud in sheer disbelief. 

He has to pull himself together. He can’t allow himself to get angry, not when his mom needs him. She still has a few more weeks of recovery and he’s been taking care of her best he can. An unfortunate and tragic upside to his mom’s injuries is that his dad has left her alone, leading to a relatively peaceful home life. Yoongi can’t be the one to destroy it now by letting his emotions get the better of him.

A few more deep breaths and he’s in a decent enough headspace to go check on his mom. Her painkillers are due soon, anyway. Yoongi retrieves a granola bar and some fruit so she isn’t taking them on an empty stomach. 

“Mom?” He knocks on the door to the spare bedroom, where she has been resting. The room was formerly Yoonseoks. In a bid to cling onto some hope of him returning, his mother has kept it intact. Yoongi knows his brother isn’t coming back. 

She makes a noise signalling he’s welcoming to come in. Because of her injuries she’s unable to talk well at the moment. 

“I brought you some painkillers.” He says gently, placing the items on the nightstand. She hums appreciatively. “I spoke to Dad.” He sighs, sitting on the edge of the bed. His mom nods, muting the TV she had been watching. “He’s staying with Uncle Jihoon tonight.”

His mom weakley reaches to squeeze his hand affectionately. He knows that means thank you. 

“The hospital called and confirmed your sick pay will extend.”He sighs, rubbing at his tired eyes roughly. “I said you were getting better and would be back as soon as you could.”

He stares at her for a few moments, wishing he had a normal life like you do. “I love you mom, I’m going to leave the door open if you need me.”

“I love you too.” She replies. It makes his chest squeeze knowing that she spoke, even though it pains her. Just to tell her son she loves him.

He nods curtly and leaves the room, ensuring the door is ajar. When he’s back in his own room he collapses on the bed exhausted. The last few weeks have been draining and his sleep is suffering. It’s restless, fraught with bad dreams. He sleeps much lighter, listening out for his mother. 

He wishes he didn’t resent you and Hobi so much for leaving him. He wishes his dad didn’t have anger issues and no self control. He wishes his mom was stronger and told his dad to get out a long time ago. More than anything, he wishes he had a normal life.

As ever you’re the nicer friend and you phone Yoongi to make up the next day. He feels like an asshole, knowing how much you hate conflict, but he misses your voice so much lately  that it’s enough to override his own dickery behaviour. As usual it  doesn’t take you long to have him smiling again. 

Before you part ways you tell him it’s only thirty three days until you’re home.  He promises to be there waiting for you at the train station the day you arrive. Something warm blooms in his chest and he realises it’s the first time he’s felt hopeful in weeks.

Seokjin insists on taking you out on the last night before winter break. Your complaints about the cold fall on deaf ears as he all but drags you from your apartment. He wraps his oversized red scarf around your neck throwing out a see? Now you have nothing to complain about. And he was right it felt nice., The cotton is warm against your skin and smells like Seokjin’s cologne. 

There’s a large christmas market close to campus in which he buys you some hot chocolate. It reminds you of the smaller one back home that you and Yoongi would frequent ever since you were old enough to understand the concept of the holidays. 

“Let’s go for a walk.” Seokjin suggests. “The Yanghwa bridge is pretty at night.”

There’s a comfortable silence between you as you stroll side by side. He spots you shivering and slips an arm across your shoulders, tugging you close to his side. His body heat is welcoming. You peer up at him to try and read his expression but he’s staring straight ahead, a wry smile playing on his lips. 

“I love Seoul.” You sigh happily. “I might actually miss it back at Daegu.”

“I wish I was going back to Daegu. My parents always go to Japan this time of year.” 

“You gonna send me a postcard from Japan?” You ask jokingly, nudging him slightly with your shoulder.

“Obviously. How are you going to go weeks without talking to me?” He grins. 

You shake your head with a laugh. He’s been such a welcome intrusion to your life lately a tiny, miniscule, barely there, part wonders the same.

Seokjin stops walking when you reach the middle of the bridge. The view combined with the lights is spectacular. You almost miss how he angles his body towards you until his hands are slipping around your waist and pulling you against his lean figure.

“Y/n, I really like you.” He says thickly.

You are almost unable to respond. You’re not stupid, he’s been dropping hints for months now but to actually hear the words leave his mouth is alarming. Your mind is racing a mile a minute, heartbeat increasing as you think of Yoongi. You shouldn’t be in this precarious situation, you’re not together but he’s yours - 

Seokjin completely disrupts your internal monologue by pressing his soft, plush lips against your own. He’s gentle, fearful as if you might completely reject him. When you don’t (to your own surprise) he presses his mouth against you a little harder. 

You don’t want to admit to yourself how good it feels. 

Seokjin’s large hands tug you somehow impossibly tighter against his body as he slips his tongue against your bottom lip, parting your mouth as he goes. It’s so different to Yoongi. It’s sweet. It’s new, uncharted terrority. Just as you begin to get into it and further deepen the kiss, his touch becomes infuriatingly tame.

He smirks at you when he finally pulls away. You can only imagine how dazed you look. 

“I- uh, what was that for?”

“You look cute in my scarf.” Is all he says, as if he didn’t have his tongue down your throat a moment ago. He laughs when your face twists with disbelief. 

“Seokjin, I’m not - I can’t. I shouldn’t be doing this..” You cringe at how embarrassing that sounds and how incoherent it is.

The confident exterior he brought with him tonight cracks just a little. “Why? You said you didn’t have a boyfriend.” He frowns.

“I don’t. But there’s someone. It’s really complicated. I’m sorry.”

“Ah,” He nods as he accepts the meaning of your words. “I see,” He sighs. “I’m not totally out of the running I hope?”

“I - “

“Look. Think about it over break. I like you. We have fun together! It would be nice to see where it could go.”

“Seokjin - “ You try once more. He shushes you with a smile. 

Despite the kiss the rest of the evening is nice. Thank god you don’t have to see him for a while though. 

The nearly four hour train ride back to Daegu leaves you with plenty of time to think. Too much time, as it turns out. As much as you attempt to bury yourself in the book and magazine you’ve brought to serve as distractions. 

Seokjin kissed you last night. Seokjin kissed you. Seokjin kissed you and you liked it.

You’re on your way to see a boy who you have admitted openly how you feel for him, a boy who has waited months for you and you spent your last moments away kissing someone else. Even though you and Yoongi aren’t official you still feel awful. And if you’re brutally honest with yourself it’s because you can envision dating Seokjin. One could argue you sort of are already. He’s definitely been courting you.

When you step onto the platform and observe Yoongi for the first time, your breath traps in your throat. He looks like a brooding artist standing there in his leather jacket and chuck taylors. Your walk turns into a half run in a bid to get to him as quickly as possible. 

He huffs an ‘oomf’ when you crash your body into his but hugs you so tightly that he sweeps you off your feet. 

Yoongi carries your suitcase to the car for you. Neither of you can wipe the lovesick smiles from your faces. He holds your hand across the console as he drives, occasionally rubbing his thumb on your palm. It’s so sickeningly domestic and you love it.

When you’re finally alone in your room his lips are on your neck before either of you have removed your outer clothing. He’s all kisses and whispered praise as he undresses you. You’re naked on your back for him as he licks your pussy and all you can manage to breathlessly gasp is “I fucking missed you.”

You come with his tongue buried inside you and his fingers tweaking your nipples. “I fucking missed you, my pretty girl.” He whispers, biting the shell of your ear. 

The weight of his heavy cock in your hand is familiar. A visible shudder runs through him at your touch. When you get on your knees for him an exhilarated sigh leaves his lips. “Gonna suck my dick huh?” He’s almost mumbling to himself. You answer him by taking his cock in your mouth. He groans like he’s never had his dick wet before. “Fuck,” spills from his mouth like a mantra. 

Before he has the chance to get carried away he’s fisting your hair and flipping you onto your front. Yoongi fucks you harshly from behind. The hand in your hair grasps at your scalp to leave your head permanently tilted back for him. He shoots his seed as deep inside of you as the angle allows. 

His heavy breath on your neck and sweat on your skin feels fucking fantastic. You could die right now, happy, satiated and stupidly in love with Min Yoongi.

Christmas Day had always been just another day in the Min household. He only became aware of how abnormal his family’s style was when he was barely a preteen and other kids at school would discuss the fantastical ways they spent their holidays. Even kids who didn’t celebrate the holiday seemed to enjoy it more. He didn’t particularly feel much about Christmas.

Until he met you. And your family welcomed him with open arms. A gesture which included inviting him over every single year. The invitation extended to his family but usually he attended solo (except for that one time Yoonseok joined and spitefully pushed your plate onto your lap). 

This year is no different. 

Your mom feeds him well. She’s kind to him, taking a keen interest in his life. Your father always asks about the one interest they have in common - basketball. It’s not much but Yoongi’s dad has never broached the subject. 

After dinner you suggest going for a walk, an idea with which Yoongi happily obliges. Unable to stop himself he’s lacing your hands together the moment you’re out of eyesight from your parents’ house. He kisses the back of your knuckles as he throws you a devilish grin. 

Naturally you gravitate towards the enormous Christmas tree and ice rink in the town center. It’s been a long standing tradition, however it feels far more romantic this time. It’s just the two of you and you’re holding hands, just like the other couples that frequent the area. The sparkling lights on the fir light up your eyes like stars.

Snow begins to fall as you come to a stop at the wooden railing that separates the tree from the public. Yoongi lifts the hood on your parka jacket up for you, kissing you on the cheek as he goes. It’s not even comparable for the amount you do for him but anything he can give you he will.

Adorably you nuzzle into him, resting your head on his chest. His arms automatically wrap around you and he lets out a breath of content. You probably won’t be able to stay out much longer given the rapidly declining temperature so he’ll enjoy this while he can. 

“Yoongi!” 

A voice startles him, calling out from somewhere in the distance. Yoongi’s head whips round to see Hoseok and Anni of all people. Without thought he quickly, albeit harshly, pushes you away from him, lest you get caught in such a compromising position. No one knows about you two and he’d like to keep it that way. He already knows you’re too good for him; he does not need others reinforcing it at every opportunity. 

Yoongi doesn’t think he’s made a mistake until he glimpses one look at your hurt, confused expression. 

“Hey guys.” Hobi greets you both warmly. Yoongi notices he’s holding hands with Anni. 

“Hey.” You reply. “Merry Christmas! It’s nice to see you both.”

“You too!” Anni replies warmly. “Did you have Christmas at the l/n house?”

“Yeah.” Yoongi mutters. “Just walking off the carbs.” 

“Hobi met my parents for the first time.” Anni’s expression is one of pure happiness and he can’t help but feel a little jealous. “We had dinner together too.”

“Aw, that’s lovely.” You say. Yoongi can tell you’re upset, your tone sounds forced. “I bet they adored you Hobi.”

“”Of course.” Hoseok flashes that winning smile. “When are you both free? We should go for dinner or something.”

“How about - “ Yoongi starts.

“I’m not sure, I’ve got lots of schoolwork.” You cut him off and he shuts up instantly. “I’ll phone you Anni and we can sort something out?”

“Sure.” Anni says slowly. “We’ll leave you guys. I want to go inside anyway because I'm cold. Hopefully see you soon!”

Anni gives you a warm hug while Yoongi hugs Hoseok. They both wave cheerfully as they leave. He watches their happy retreating forms until they disappear round a corner. When he faces you once more your body language has completely shifted. Arms folded across your chest, gaze turned downwards. 

He feels uncomfortable, he knows he hurt you but he’s not entirely sure how. Now it’s awkward. “Should we uh, walk some more?”

“Are you sure you want to be seen with me? You pushed me away from you so fast back there I almost fell over.” You mumble. 

“I didn’t mean to. Hobi and Anni don’t know about...anything.”

“So?” You finally look up to meet his eyeline. To his utter dismay your big eyes are glossy with unspilled tears. “Would it be so bad if they did?”

“Uh..I, um. I don’t know.” He trips over his wording like an idiot. The only reason he’s never breathed a word about your illicit activities to anyone is because he naturally assumed you didn’t want anyone to know. Yoongi wasn’t exactly the epitome of a model boyfriend.

“Why have you never asked me on a date? Why have you never asked me to be your girlfriend?” You demand and he panics. He doesn’t have an answer stronger than I don’t know and he’s confused as to why you’re so angry. He naively assumed what existed between you was enough. 

“Do you seriously think someone like me would make a good boyfriend?” He all but groans. You of all people should understand that fact. He’s never had a girlfriend. “I don’t do relationships.”

“Then why treat me like I’m yours? Why hold my hand? Why tell me you love me?!”

He doesn’t know what to say. He makes the fatal mistake of shrugging. 

You laugh mockingly. “Do you even love me? It feels like you’re just ashamed of me. Couldn’t even stand to touch me in front of your best friend. Just like that I let you have sex with me, I guess.”

“Y/n…” He starts. How is he even supposed to respond? This is all his fault. He’s only ashamed of himself, never you. “I can’t be what you need.”

An uncomfortable tightness constricts in his chest at the verbal admission. The sentiment has been lurking in the back of his mind since the moment he first started noticing you as more than just his friend. You deserve someone happy, stable, with a good background. Not the chaotic baggage he brings.

“You’re not allowed to have your cake and eat it too, Yoongi. That’s not fair.” You sniff as a lone tear escapes. “You can’t treat me this way, get jealous about dudes and then refuse to claim me.”

He had never even thought about it like that, unable to realise that’s what he had been doing to you.

“A guy at college kissed me, you know.” You blurt, heatedly.  His guilt quickly turns to shock and now Yoongi wants to throw up because you lied to him. You were off at college kissing people and then hopping back to him, the fool that waits for you no matter what.

“Is that so?” He mutters, hot anger bubbling in his chest. You nod staring at him fiercely. “I’ve met someone too.” It’s a lie. “I just respected you enough not to do anything.”

The entire atmosphere changes. You’re gawking at him as if he’s slapped you in the face.

“You've met someone?” 

He hums in agreement, terrified to commit even further to the lie. 

“Who?”

“No one that you know. But you’ve obviously met someone too, so it’s whatever.”

Mascara tears spill down your cheeks and it physically pains to witness. He turns his head to the side, unable to watch any further. He did this to you. 

“If it’s ‘whatever’ to you then maybe we shouldn’t do this - ” A sob chokes you mid sentence. “ - anymore.”

How is his Christmas day ending so spectacularly poorly? How is this his current reality? Yoongi’s brain and mouth stall, torn between the desire to rescue this horrific situation and hate you for kissing someone else. It simultaneously feels like a lifetime and a split second before you’re speaking, deciding for him.

“Nothing to say? Really?! Maybe I don’t know you so well after all,” the evident heartbreak in your voice makes his eyes burn. Now he really can’t bear to look directly at you. 

“You kissed someone.” He mumbles, weak and pathetic. “Maybe I don’t know you.”

“I’m leaving, don’t follow me.” 

He glances just in time to watch you walk away. “Fuck,” He groans a little too loudly, attracting the attention of a family nearby. Angrily he kicks a stone and clutches at his hair. He might be the biggest idiot alive. This is exactly why he could never be your boyfriend, he can’t handle anything.

Cold and numb, and not just from the weather, he reaches inside the breast pocket of his jacket and pulls out a cigarette. It’s a fairly new habit, so new you don’t even know about it yet, but fuck, does he need to take the edge off. 

You manage to escape your parents and disappear to the safety of your bedroom as soon as you arrive home. Aggressively you draw your curtains shut, a not so subtle message to Yooni. The implication is clear; you do not want to talk. You doubt he’ll be making an appearance tonight anyway. This was no regular arguement.

You recall that night you left for school, the night he told you he loved you. Technically he never said the words. You. knowing him for most of his life, had assumed he felt what you had. Perhaps you assumed incorrectly. Horrifically inaccurately. And now your heart is wilting in your ribcage. 

Stupid, lovesick, little girl.

The train ride back to Seoul is bordering on unbearably lonely, despite the carriage full of passengers. The days after Christmas that bled into New Years seem like a depressing blur that you don’t wish to recall but somehow can’t stop thinking about.

You haven’t heard from Yoongi since that horrible night. You wonder if someone else is occupying his time and that’s why he doesn’t wish to make amends. It’s always you extending the proverbial olive branch. You want him to want to do the same. Right now it looks like he doesn’t.

a/n: if this gave you a rollercoaster of emotions and made you feel sad, dw you’re not the only one, lol. each part is going to be about 20k so buckle up babies! (this story is still going thru editing so if u see mistakes IM SORRY) thank you as always for reading :)))))) P.S feedback makes me happy, lmk what u think! what u think might happen! if you want to slap me for writing so much angst lol! <3

masterlist

i don’t condone any copying or translations of my work. written 2020©

[arvandus]

Touch (Pt. 8)

Pairing: Dabi x Fem!Reader

WARNINGS: 18+ only please!  Drug abuse/withdrawal, adult language/themes, heavy angst, past trauma/abuse, anxiety/panic attacks, PTSD, fluff, pining, slow burn, eventual emotional SMUT. *please pay attention to the chapter tags as these warnings will apply at different times*

Synopsis: When you first joined the LOV to lend your healing quirk, Dabi terrified you.  Not interested in attachments, he wanted to keep it that way.  That is, until he needs your help. (Slow burn, soft Dabi).

Chapter warning: Another long chapter, clocking in at 10k words and 27 pages.  First half is a bit heavy, so... Trigger warnings: physical abuse, verbal abuse, childhood trauma flashbacks

Chapter Songs: When The Truth Hunts You Down by Sam Tinnesz/Make It Rain by Ed Sheeran

Part 1   Part 7

Artwork credit to @hellowon31 on Twitter (https://twitter.com/hellowon31)

Part 8 - Memories

Dabi stared at his desk, now positioned in front of his bedroom door.  He did it as soon as he’d returned to his room and swallowed the pills you had given him.  He wasn’t sure what to expect for the evening, but whatever happened, he wanted to make it through it without leaving his room.

That was a decision he had made before he even showed up at your door with dinner, as evidenced by the plastic bags currently occupying the surface of his makeshift barricade.  Ramen wasn’t the only thing he’d gotten while he was out.  The bags were filled with a variety of items - more snacks, a pack of cigarettes, electrolyte drinks, over the counter medicines.  Anything and everything he could think of was in those bags, the collection curated from multiple experiences of past detoxes.  Granted, this wasn’t a full detox, but that just made it that much harder to anticipate what exactly his experience was going to be.

Next to the lineup of bags was a bottle of high-end whiskey and a far less fancy plastic cup.  That part wasn’t exactly planned… it was a last-minute decision, swiped from the bar downstairs after he’d returned from his shopping spree.  He knew you wouldn’t be happy about it; no doubt you’d grill him on the risks of mixing alcohol and drugs.  But it was his safety net without the risk of leaving his room in search of something stronger.

The night dragged by slowly, painfully.  Every inch of Dabi was restless and aching.  His scarred legs screamed a discordant song through his veins, muffled under the influence of the pills you had given him.  The aches he still felt were just annoying enough to make sleep impossible, despite the exhaustion that pulled at him.  There was no comfortable position, nothing to ease the physical stress.

Still, the pain was bearable.  Your treatment was working.

It had its limits, though. Despite the pills you’d given him, he was still functioning on an opioid withdrawal.  A jittery energy consumed him, forcing his leg to beat like a jackhammer, while his mind raced. Dabi could never stay in one spot for long, switching between his bed to his desk chair, to his bed again.  Sitting. ��Lying down. Standing.  Sitting again. It hadn’t taken him long to break into his cigarettes, dragging long puffs into his lungs to ease his tattered nerves. It helped to ease the physical distress, but his mind continued to jump from thought to thought, no longer encumbered by a drug-filled haze. 

The headache relief you’d provided him was proving to be a double-edged sword, allowing his sporadic thoughts to come through clearer without the sharp, throbbing ache as a distraction.  Your conversation hung over Dabi like a vengeful ghost.  He tried to run from it, distracting himself with various forms of entertainment on his phone.  Music videos, books, TV shows, memes…

Did you like memes? Of course, you did.  Who didn’t?

Damn it, there you were again, in his brain.

He didn’t want to think about it.  He didn’t want to think about you.

But he did anyway.  Obsessively.

It wasn’t long before Dabi was sitting on his bed, his phone forgotten in his hand while his mind turned over every nuance of what was said, every detail of body language.  It honed in on the fear in your eyes, the way you had wrapped your arms around yourself, the way you had frozen against his harsh tone. His mind chewed on it like a dog with a bone, a dog he couldn’t fucking train.

It shouldn’t matter.  It shouldn’t fucking matter.

So, you were scared of him. That was to be expected.  It wasn’t like he needed you to like him.  This was all temporary anyway.

So, he had grabbed you. Big deal.  It wasn’t like he really hurt you, right?  It could have been so much worse.

The thoughts the did little to comfort him, his new-found conscience finding little of value in his weak excuses.  The guilt sat in him like a stone, too heavy for him to move.

It mattered.  It mattered a lot.

And he hated it.

Dabi still couldn’t remember actually grabbing you, but his mind filled in the blank space regardless, taking what he could remember and embellishing it into a brightly colored oil painting.  It hung front and center in the castle of his mind, joining the tapestry of memories that wrapped around Dabi like a cage.  And from it, it forced him to follow the threads of his life, drawing parallels to past wrongs, to things said and things done…

…To things better left buried.

“I hate you.”

The words echoed in Dabi’s mind, an old memory with his voice attached.  Young, hot-headed, angry.  He closed his eyes tight, resting the bridge of his nose on his interlaced fingers as he tried not to remember.  He didn’t want to remember.  But his mind was freed now, healing from the poison he’d been feeding himself for years, and it didn’t give a fuck what he wanted or didn’t want.

“This is all your fault.”

So, this is where his mind wanted to start first.  He knew this memory, and he knew where it would eventually lead. 

The memory came into focus with such clarity that it was as if he were there again.  He could see her, clear as if she were there in person, white hair framing broken eyes as wet tears trailed down her hollow, pale cheeks. He could see himself too, younger, around thirteen years old, with red, wild hair like his father, his blue eyes filled with angry tears. 

He watched, a prisoner in his own mind, as the memory unfolded before him.

His head hung low as his eyes stared ahead of himself, unfocused. Why?  Why was this happening to him?  His father’s harsh words wrapped around him like chains, restricting him, choking him, forcing him into submission.

‘YOU’RE NOTHING BUT A FAILED EXPERIMENT.’

Why was he cast aside so easily, as if he didn’t MATTER?

His father promised.  He PROMISED that he’d help him become a hero.  He’d trained every day, no matter how hard his father pushed him, no matter how much his quirk burned him. His father had called it the cost of greatness. It was all meant to mold him, to beat the weakness out of him and make him stronger, to prepare him for the greatest test of his life, the UA entrance exams.  It was the ONLY path to becoming a pro hero.  Not just any pro hero, but the BEST.  His father insisted on it.

But now, with less than a year before he would apply, his father abandoned him.

“I tried so hard, mom.  I did everything he ever asked, no matter how much it hurt, no matter how much he… he…”

His mother wrapped her arms around him, holding him close. “I’m so sorry Touya.”

His voice shook with the force of suppressed sobs. “If I’d been strong enough… if I was more like him, then maybe he’d have been proud of me. Maybe… maybe he would have wanted me.”

“Touya…” his mother whispered consolingly.

He stared at his bandaged hands, watching through blurred vision as his tears broke free and fell onto the strips of cloth.  They soaked in, exposing the red blood beneath. He stared at it.

His fathers voice echoed in his mind.  ‘You’re WEAK!  Just like your mother!’

Tainted blood.

HER blood.

His father was right.

Touya’s pain transformed into anger. “This is all your fault.”  He whispered.

Her embrace vanished as his words smacked her.  Her eyes began to fill with tears.  “What…?”

“This is all your fault!” He repeated, pinning his angry eyes on her tear-filled ones.  “I HATE YOU!”

Dabi rubbed at the bridge of his nose, unable to get his mother’s facial expression out of his head. He had been such an idiot. A young, stupid kid.  He’d destroyed her with those words.  Maybe… maybe that was the start.  The first crack in her mental fragility.

Her face faded away, and now he was in an office. His father’s office.

“I’m going to apply to UA.” He announced.

His father looked up at him from the newspaper he was reading. “No you’re not.  I forbid it.”

“You may have given up on me, but I haven’t.”  Touya said stubbornly.

Enji put the newspaper down.  “If I thought you were capable of getting into UA, then we would be training right now instead of having this conversation.”

“But dad-“

“I FORBID IT!” He shouted as orange flames erupted along his face and shoulders.  “I’ll not have you bring shame on the Todoroki name all for a childish dream.”

“It’s NOT a childish dream!” Touya shouted.

Dabi scoffed at the memory, noting his father’s hypocrisy about “childish dreams.”  He knew the rest of this story…  He’d applied behind his father’s back and failed the exam.  His father was furious.

As if summoned, the memory burst forth, tying together with the previous.

He lay in the hospital bed at the UA Health Center, wrapped in bandages, nursing his failure.    He’d lost control of his emotions during the exam, consumed by anger and a desperate desire to prove his father wrong.  In turn, he lost control of his quirk.  Not only had he injured himself with his recklessness, but he’d accidentally injured two other applicants with his wild flames – an automatic disqualification.

The school nurse, Recovery Girl, was treating the other’s wounds first, and then she would treat his.

Or so he thought.

Just as she was about to use her quirk to rapidly heal some of his injuries, his father burst through the door in a cloud of barely contained rage.

“Don’t treat him.” He ordered.

“Excuse me?” She replied.

Touya stared at his father, realization starting to dawn on him.  He wouldn’t...

Enji narrowed his eyes.  “I said don’t treat him.”

“But Mr. Todoroki, if I don’t use my quirk to help him then he’ll be left with scars.  Worse than the ones he already has.”

“I know.”

“It will take him many weeks to heal.  He may feel pain for the rest of his life.”

“He must suffer the consequences of his actions.”

“But sir, if I may-“

“You may not!”

“…very well, sir.” She mumbled.  She left the room, muttering her disapproval under her breath.

After she was gone, a cold fear gripped Touya as his father stared at him with fury in his eyes.  He waited for his father’s barrage of insults and accusations, waited for the lecturing on family honor and being a ‘man.’

But the attacks never came.  Instead, his father cooled his expression, fixing him with a cold, emotionless glare.  “You brought this on yourself.”  He turned on his heel to leave, but paused to glance at him over his shoulder.  “Remember this day, Touya.”  Then he left.

Tears streaked down Touya’s face as he sobbed alone. No one could hear him.  No one came.

Dabi stood up and made his way to his desk, pulling out another cigarette before sitting down in the metal chair.  He lit the cigarette with the blue flame dancing on his finger and took a long drag of it as his free hand slowly spun the whiskey bottle in circles in front of him.

He didn’t want to think about this.  Any of this. There was no fucking point to it, nothing to be gained.  It only brought up the same pain he’d lived with for years, the pain he’d learned to ignore in place of vengeance.

He wanted to drink the entire bottle.  He wanted to move his desk aside and seek you out, have you turn off his emotions like you’d done before.  He could do it… the desk wasn’t really going to stop him.

But it served as a reminder. A reminder of what he had committed himself to.  Why did he decide to go through with this?  What the hell was he thinking?

He thought of you.  He thought of the past few days.  And once again, he was back on his thread of memories, following the tapestry down to its source.

The source of what?

He wasn’t sure.  But it was as if someone had strapped him down and was forcing his eyes open.  It wouldn’t stop.  His thoughts continued unfettered, memories organizing with a clarity he hadn’t felt in years.

Touya sat alone in his room watching the rain pour outside as he nursed a black eye.  Outside his second-story window, his father trained in the courtyard with his youngest brother. His quirk had manifested earlier that day – a perfect combination of fire and ice.  Enji had been ecstatic.

Touya had punched the wall in anger.

Now he sat here, alone, watching his father train his replacement.

His replacement.

No wonder his father had abandoned him when Shouto was born.  He was placing all of his chips on him once he realized that Touya’s body would never be able to handle his quirk.

A knock at the door interrupted his brooding, and his mother stepped in, disappointment already on her face.

“I heard you got in another fight today.” She said, as she closed the door behind her.

“They were picking on Natsuo.” He said.  “I couldn’t just let that happen.”

“They’re talking about expelling you.”

He looked away from her, his eyes looking back out the window.  “So what.” He replied.  If anything, he welcomed it.  Anything to thwart his father’s plans of making him go to college and get a business degree, only to work under his father’s thumb at his agency for the rest of his life.

“You can’t keep doing this, Touya.” She said, concern heavy in her voice.

“Doing what?” He looked back at her. 

“Destroying your life like this.”

He glared at her accusation. “I didn’t destroy my life.” He looked away, watching the courtyard again.  “He did.”

His mother walked over to join him at the window.  A gust of wind blasted raindrops onto the glass.  Outside, Shouto’s flames died away on his skin as he collapsed to his hands and knees.  Enji grabbed him by his small arm, forcing him back up to his feet.  She watched it with a sadness in her eyes.

“He’s too young.” She said quietly.

Jealousy soaked into Touya’s heart.  “And I wasn’t?”

His words stabbed her, and she hung her head in guilt.  “I’m sorry, Touya.  It wasn’t supposed to happen like this.”

Now he was confused.  “Like what?”

She didn’t respond, and he looked at her to see her eyes glazed over in silent introspection.  She’d mentally retreated within herself, to a place that Touya couldn’t follow.  It wasn’t the first time he’d seen her do this.  If anything, it was happening more frequently lately.  Normally, when this happened he wouldn’t press it, allowing her to escape within herself, to protect whatever part of her she felt needed protecting.

But now her words trapped him, and his heart began to pound at their unspoken meaning.  “LIKE. WHAT?  How was it supposed to happen??”

His words cut through her mental isolation, and she stared distantly at the floor as her eyes began to brim with tears.

“If only one of the others had been strong enough… of only I’d given them better quirks…” the tears broke free, landing on the hard floor.  “Then maybe… maybe you wouldn’t have had to suffer so long.  I’m so sorry, Touya.  It’s all my fault.  Everything is all my fault.”  She covered her face in her hands.

Given them better quirks?  Who? 

His body went cold.  Suddenly he was outside of himself, watching the history of his life fly by.

The birth of Fuyumi.  Then came Natsuo.

Now Shouto.

Touya did the math in his head. He was 17 now.  Fuyumi was 14, and Natsuo was 9.  Shouto was 5.   A four-year gap between each of them.

He’d always thought that his siblings came along as a natural process of a growing family, born from love despite his father’s harsh, obsessive nature.  Why else would Rei have stayed with him all these years? But the age gaps were too uncanny, too similar.  It was just enough time for each of their quirks to manifest.

Shouto wasn’t the only one who was intended as a replacement.

Which meant his father had given up on him long before he’d ever let on.

Touya’s chest heaved, as his world was up-ended.  “It was all a lie…”

The intensity of his tone forced his mother to come back to the present, her hands falling from her face to stare at him.  “What?”

“It was all a lie!” he repeated, his voice raising.  “All these years…”

He stood up and began pacing his room, his hand in his red hair.  “Tell me it’s not true.” He demanded.  “I already knew that Shouto was meant to replace me.  But Natsuo?” He paused and stared at his mother.

She looked way shamefully. 

His breaths began to come out in ragged gasps as he fought the tears coming to his eyes. 

“Fuyumi?”

“No, not Fuyumi.  Not initially, at least.”

Right.  Because his quirk had just manifested when she was born.  His father didn’t know yet how weak and limited his body was; he’d still believed it was something that could be worked past, that it was something Touya could control.  Which meant that Fuyumi was wanted.  Lucky her.  No wonder his father seemed to favor her over everyone else.

He sat on his bed, his head in his hands.  “What the FUCK.”

All these years, he’d assumed his father had believed in him, and only gave up on him right before he was set to apply to UA.  Even then, he’d thought that his father only abandoned him as a way to protect Touya from hurting himself, or even worse, killing himself.  That was why his father hadn’t let him get healed back then, right? That was the lesson he was supposed to learn?  To accept his weakness and take his mortality seriously?  Sure, there was the whole thing about ruining the family’s reputation, but he’d always hoped that deep down, there was more to it than that. There had to be.

But no. None of it was true. It was all about HIM.  His father and his stupid, obsessive goal to beat All Might, even if it was only through his progeny.  Touya was nothing but a tool to him, a means to an end.  And when he couldn’t meet his father’s needs, he became nothing more than a contingency plan.  In the meantime, his father kept trying to make the perfect hero.  The perfect quirk.

And he’d finally succeeded.

Touya stared at his scarred hands. “Did… did he ever even love me?” The words fell from his mouth, a forbidden, broken whisper.

His mother’s arms were around him then, cradling him to her chest.  “Of course, he loves you.  I swear it.”

The warmth of her embrace made him turn his attention on her, and suddenly a revelation hit him, cutting into him like a thousand knives.  His body went rigid, his eyes wide.

“You knew.” He whispered.  He forced her arms off of him and stood up, towering over her with his height.  She took a step back, her eyes wide.  “You knew and you never told me.”

He turned his back to her, unable to look at her.

“Touya, please...” she begged, her voice quivering.

He didn’t want to hear it. There was nothing she could say that could fix this.  His father was one thing… he’d accepted that he was an abusive, shitty father.  But his mother?  His mother who he’d confided in?  His mother who was supposed to protect him?  His mother… who he trusted?  Why didn’t she ever tell him?

The betrayal was too much. It cut too deep.  His entire childhood was a lie, years wasted by those who were supposed to love and support him.

Disgust filled him.  He wanted her gone.  Out of his room, out of his life.

“Touya!” she said desperately.  She reached out to him and placed a hand on his shoulder, an attempt at bridging the growing chasm between them.

“DON’T TOUCH ME!” He shouted. 

Flames erupted across his body, uncontrolled, as his arm shoved her away from him.  She stumbled back with such force that she collided into the wall before slumping down against it.  She didn’t get up.  Instead, she sat there with her knees drawn up like a child, her body wracked with sobs.

He stared at her, horrified, as his blue flames died away on his skin.  He wanted to go to her, to reach out and help her, apologies falling frantically from his lips.  He took a cautious step forward, one hand outstretched towards her.  But she shied away from him, her arms wrapping protectively around her head.

“No! Enji, please!”

Her words stopped him in his tracks. Slowly, he lowered his hand and stared in stunned silence as his mother babbled incoherent apologies.  Something shattered within himself, sinking away to leave a hollowness in its place.

He ran.

Dabi was drowning, as the weight of his past washed over him, choking him.

That was the longest one yet.  And the most painful.  It ripped at the exposed tender places in his heart, places he’d thought were long-since dead.

Dabi’s vision blurred and he wiped at his nose.  This was what he did.  He lashed out, hurting those close to him, those who didn’t deserve it.  It was the same with you. It was who he was, it was who he was made to be. It’d only be a matter of time before it happened again.

He lifted his cigarette to take another puff but stopped when he realized that it had burned down to the filter, leaving a trail of ash in its wake on the desk.

He unpacked another cigarette and lit it.  His hand began to unscrew the whiskey bottle.

She had avoided him after that, and he avoided her.  It wasn’t long after that rainy day that his mother had her mental breakdown, scalding Shouto in an attempt to burn away the image of her husband.  Or was she trying to burn away the image of Touya? Was there even a difference in her mind?

The news had shocked him, and he ran as fast as his legs could take him.  He burst into Enji’s office, forcing himself into his father’s presence.

“Where is she?” Touya demanded, his chest heaving from exertion.

Enji frowned at the intrusion, looking up from his paperwork at his desk.  He was dressed professionally, in a white button-up shirt with a blue tie.

“Who?” He demanded.

Touya clenched his jaw so tight his teeth ground together.  God, did he hate him…

“My mother. You know, your wife.  The one you knock up every four years and the ignore.”

Enji menacingly rose from his chair, his blue eyes carrying the threat of violence within them. He towered over Touya, his presence casting a shadow from the wall sconces behind him.

“You watch your tone with me, boy.” Enji said coldly.  “I will not be disrespected in my own house.”

Touya knew if he pushed it, he’d never get what he came here for.  So, he sucked up his anger and pride, bowing deep in apology. “Yes, sir.” Touya muttered with downcast eyes. “Forgive me.   I just want to know where she is.”

Enji paused for a moment, staring down at his son before returning to his seat and picking up his pen.  “She’s been admitted to the Musutafu Mental Institution.” He replied as he marked his paper.

A pause filled the space before Touya asked his next question.  “Can I see her?”

“No.”

Touya’s breath stopped, his mind unable to wrap around the simple word that fell like a judge’s gavel. His father’s answer was cold and final, said with such heartless ease.  He stared in disbelief.

He thought he had time to mend things, to finally overcome his cowardice and atone for his actions.  But there was no atoning now.  He’d lost her.  Tears began to sting in the corners of his eyes, but he fought them back; his father always hated it when he cried.

“So that’s it…? She’s gone?”

“It was for the best.” Enji replied.  “She attacked my son, almost made him useless.  Now I can train him without her interfering.”

“Is that all you care about?”  The words fell from Touya’s mouth before he could stop them, covered in bitterness.

Enji’s pen stopped scribbling.  An agonizing ten seconds passed before he set it down and looked up at Touya, pinning him with his sharp eyes, dark eyebrows pulled down into an angry frown.  “Excuse me?”

Touya steeled himself against his father’s wrath as the rage he’d been keeping to himself burst forth against its creator. 

“Is that all you care about?” he repeated.  “Your wife is in a mental institution and your son is scarred for life, but all you can think about is surpassing All Might?”

Enji pinned him with a look that was almost akin to pity.  “How small-minded you are.  This was always your problem, Touya. Your mother too.  You both lacked vision, an inability to see the bigger picture. That was why you were never able to push past your limits.  But Shouto… Shouto will be different.”

Enji’s accusations made Touya’s lips curl into a snarl.  “Do you even hear yourself?” he spat.  “No wonder she went crazy.  She wasn’t attacking Shouto, she was attacking you!  This is all your fault, and you don’t even care. You’re a shit father, and a worse husband.”

The pity in his father’s eyes turned to ice, and the man quietly set his pen down before standing up from his desk.  “Shouto said the same thing.” He grumbled.  “I excused it coming from him, because he’s young and doesn’t understand yet.  But you… you should know better.”  He loosened his tie and began to unbutton the cuffs of his sleeves.  “I’ve been too lenient on you.  It looks like there are some lessons I still have yet to teach you.”

Touya took a step back at the obvious gesture.

Enji stared down at him in disgust.  “Look at you. Already scared.  You’re just as pathetic as before.”

Touya went into a defensive stance, his blue flames igniting across his skin.

His father scowled. “You dare raise your flames against me, boy?” His own flames erupted along his body.  “Very well.  If you’re going to talk like a man and fight like a man, then you will learn to accept your consequences like a man.”

Dabi took a drag of his new cigarette, already burned halfway from neglect.  He inhaled deeply, wanting the toxic fumes to fill the gaping hole in his chest.  It didn’t.

He picked up the now-open whiskey bottle and poured it to the halfway point of the plastic cup.  There was no ice to chill it, but it would have to do.  He took a swig, letting the fiery taste coat his tongue, burning away the taste of ash.

Enji had taken him outside into the courtyard, where he received the worst beating he’d ever gotten. His father’s blows lacked the restraint he typically exercised, fueled by a dark rage.  It had left Touya gagging and coughing, crumpled on the floor in a heap. It hurt to breathe, it hurt to move, it hurt to think. 

The beating may have been five minutes or it may have been five hours. He couldn’t really tell. All he did know was that no one came.  Just like all the times before, no one came to say something, to stop him, even though the sound of their conflict shook the Todoroki grounds, incinerating nearby bushes and damaging the exposed framework of the surrounding buildings. And after his father had left, removing his tie and his shirt to clean the blood from them, Touya had laid there alone in the dirt, staring up at the cold, lifeless, star-studded night sky as an unforgiving universe stared back.  He wanted to die.

It felt like eternity had passed before two sets of hands gently grabbed him and helped him up, each of his arms going around familiar shoulders.  His siblings had finally come for him, now that his father was out of sight and they knew they were safe from his wrath.  They had helped Touya to his bed, where Fuyumi tended to his wounds in silence and Natsuo sat beside her, his mouth pressed into a thin, angry line.

Dabi took another couple of decent gulps of his whiskey, resisting the urge to down the entire contents and pour another cup.  How much did he pour?  Four shots worth?  Five? He needed it to kick in.  If he was going to be forced to relive every bad memory he ever had, then he’d be here all night. 

His body was worn down, his spirit tired.  He really didn’t want to feel anymore.

But the alcohol wasn’t working fast enough; his brain wouldn’t stop.

It was late at night, the moon high in the sky, the air cold with the hint of rain as clouds rolled in from the distance.  It had been a few days since Touya’s beating, but despite his sister’s protests, he decided to leave the confines of his room and take a walk on the family compound.

That was how he ended up here, six feet away from the training room.  The light was off, but he could hear the sound of fists hitting, and every now and then the room would light up with bright orange flame.  But there was no lecturing, no young voice crying.  Touya knew Shouto wasn’t in there this time.  He was still in bed, recovering from the burn his mother had inflicted. Enji was furious, pacing the grounds like an angry bear, snapping at staff and family and locking himself away in his training room to work out his frustrations, constantly striving for a goal he’d never be able to achieve.

Touya inwardly scoffed.  If anyone should be admitted to a mental institution, it should be his father. The man was literally driven insane by his inability to surpass All Might.  But of course, that would never happen.  His father was the number two hero.  He was “untouchable.”  There was no one brave enough or strong enough to make that man face his own demons. It made Touya curl his nose up at the hypocrisy.

An odd silence drew Touya out of his thoughts.  The sounds of fists impacting dummies and training equipment had stopped, the flames no longer bathing the ground in light through the open door.  Then he heard it – an unfamiliar sound, one he’d never heard before. He furrowed his brow in confusion and inched closer to the open door before risking a peek inside.

The moonlight spilled in just enough for him to see the hulking form of his father, sitting on the floor with his head in his hands.  His great shoulders shook, and finally Touya realized the sound he was hearing.

His father was crying.

Disgust filled Touya, sour and bitter.  For all of his father’s posturing, for all of his grandiose lectures about strength and commitment, here he was, sobbing like a baby.  And for what?  For his inability to reach his dreams, while his family fell apart around him?

Or was he crying FOR his family?

Touya pushed the possibility away, burying it deep, deep down where he refused to give the idea any chance of blooming into a belief.

No.  This man didn’t feel for his family.  He wasn’t ALLOWED to feel for his family.  He was the reason his family was as broken as it was, every single one of them able to tie their scars back to him and his selfish actions.

Touya hated him.

And yet he loved him.  How fucked up was that? He could feel it in his irrational urge to go to him and offer support, a support he’d never once received.  And that just made him hate him more, because despite all that his father had done to him, Touya still fucking cared.

His father wasn’t worthy of it.  He didn’t deserve Touya’s love, or his mother’s love, or anyone’s love for that matter.

And he certainly didn’t deserve to cry.

Touya fled.  He fled from his feelings, he fled from his fears, taking only his righteous anger with him and riding it like a hellhound. He ran as fast as he could, ignoring the pain that sliced through him from his father’s abuse.  His lungs burned. His ribs ached.  As he ran, his thoughts followed, chasing him and swooping on him like a flock of crows, pecking at his sanity.

He ended up in an abandoned warehouse, a quarter mile from his house, across the railroad tracks that marked the separation of ritzy upper-class life and industrial city complexes. He fell to his knees, his palms landing hard on the dirt-strewn floor inside the old building, as sobs ripped lose from his throat, harsh and painful.

He hated him.  He hated him more than anything.  How could he have ever idolized him?  How could he have ever loved him?  His father was selfish.  He was destructive. He was cruel.  And now his father cried like a baby, as if he were a victim in all of this.

He wasn’t a victim. And he certainly wasn’t a hero.

What kind of hero saved civilians while simultaneously destroying his family behind closed doors? That wasn’t a hero.  It was a wolf in sheep’s clothing.

And it was devouring his family.  His helpless, innocent family.

They deserved justice. They deserved saving.  Where was hero society in all of this?  Lining his father’s pockets, placing him on a pedestal to be worshipped.  His father always preached about Touya accepting the consequences of his actions.  So where were Enji’s consequences?

As long as his father continued to reign supreme, his family would never be safe.  His family would never heal.  His mother would never recover. Natsuo would never be freed of his anger. Shouto would never get to decide who he is and who he wants to be. Fuyumi would be weighed down by her obligation to her family, foregoing her own dreams to take care of them all.

His father needed to be gone.  Permanently.  Only then would his family be safe.  Only then would they be free.

But Touya… Touya would never be free.  He understood that now, even as his hatred and anger consumed him.  He was just like his father, a proverbial chip-off-the-old-block.  He’d managed to take all the worst parts of him and make them a part of himself. His obsessive nature, his anger, his jealousy… his violence.  He could feel it in his blood.

If his family wasn’t safe with Enji, then what made Touya any different? He’d already played a hand in his mother’s mental demise.  How could he be sure he wouldn’t hurt the rest as tie went on?

He was just like his father.

He hated his father.

He hated himself.

He wanted to die.

So then, who better to take on the Behemoth?  Who better than his father’s son, the monster he’d made?

Touya had to kill Endeavor.  He had to kill his father.  His father, who he couldn’t even beat in a fight.  He was stupid.  A fool. But there were no other options.  No other paths to justice.  And Touya was tired of waiting for justice.

Touya’s sob turned into a dry laugh.  Was this what it meant to be heroic?  To bear the weight of this responsibility, even if it cost him his soul?  Even if it killed him?

His dry laugh grew into a series of laughs, wild and hysterical, as tears ran down his face, while the reality of what he was committing to tore him asunder.  As he heaved and coughed, a heat began to overtake him, building so quickly that by the time he realized what was happening, it was too late.  Searing, blue flames blasted out of him in such magnitude and such intensity that the windows of the abandoned warehouse exploded, glass shards melting from the intense heat as they rained down.  The flames roared outward, reaching for the night sky through the now-glassless windows, groping and writhing, their fierceness never waning.

Touya couldn’t stop it.  The flames scorched through him and consumed him, the sound of it raging in his ears, his body devoured by agony as his quirk ate at him, destroying him from the inside out.  Above him, the heat of the flames began to melt the structural metal beams.

But his hysterical laughter and tears couldn’t stop, even as smoke left his scorched lungs with each exhale and his mouth tasted ash.  A screeching sound filled the space, the sound of metal bending and breaking.  The beams gave way, the roof caving in as destruction rained down around him, silencing his laughter.

…..

Nothing but bright blue fire and broken remains filled his vision.  Slowly, a dark form began to take shape amongst the flames, tall and towering.  It was him. He’d come for him.

The flames parted, and he saw himself as he was now: black hair, dark scars, staples glinting in the firelight.  The sound of a funeral bell tolled and his mouth opened, forming a single word.  A name.

A gentle knock caused the image to begin to fade away like mist, even as the funeral bells still rang in Dabi’s ears.

“Dabi?” He knew that voice. It was you.

Groggily, Dabi opened his eyes to find himself still in his chair at his desk, his head resting on his arm. His forgotten cup of whiskey sat unmoved, inches from his fingers.  It was a dream.  He’d fallen asleep.

Another knock at the door, slightly louder, made him sit up.

“...Dabi?” you called again.

“Yeah.” He grumbled. He rubbed at his face.  “Yeah, yeah.”

His body felt stiff and his neck had a horrible kink in it.  He checked the time on his phone.  5:45am.  Why in God’s name were you up so early?  And why were you knocking on his door?

He stood up and stretched his back, and that was when he felt it – a sharp itching pain that ran along his spine, chased by the agony in his legs.  It was worse than he remembered it being before he’d passed out. Your quirk was starting to wear off.

It looked like you were right on time.

He grabbed the end of his metal desk with one hand and pulled, dragging it slowly away from the door. The sound was grating, like nails on a chalkboard.  If people weren’t awake before, they definitely were now.

As if on cue, three harsh bangs resonated from the wall next him.  “What the hell, Dabi???” Spinner’s voice yelled through the wall.  “People are trying to sleep!”

“Bite me.”  Dabi snapped back before opening the door for you, and stared, giving you an obvious once-over.  You were completely dressed, in jeans and a long-sleeve shirt, as if you’d been up for hours.  Dark circles framed your tired eyes. “Hey, doll.” He greeted.

Your heart did a flip before you even knew what hit you, leaving you standing there like a deer in headlights.  It’d been a cool minute since he’d called you that; you didn’t realize how much you’d grown attached to it.

It took you a moment to realize that he was holding the door open for you, inviting you in.  Once you were across the threshold, Dabi closed the door behind you.

“Sorry… did I wake you?” You asked, as your eyes took in the room.  His desk was haphazardly pulled away from the door, covered in plastic bags. The room stank of cigarette smoke and alcohol.  A bottle of whiskey sat incriminatingly on the desk, some of its contents missing.  You picked up the bottle and stared at it before pinning Dabi with a glare.  You knew he knew better.  For someone who was so experienced with drugs, he certainly did do some stupid shit.

“Really?” you scolded.

“Don’t start with me.” Dabi grumbled as he rubbed at his neck. He pulled out an electrolyte drink and downed its contents, wiping his mouth with his hand once it was empty.  “There, you happy?”  He moved on to a bag of chips, crunching loudly as he chewed in annoyance.

Normally, you would have been more diplomatic, navigated the waters a little bit more when you saw them getting choppy.  But you slept like shit again last night, waking up repeatedly from bad dreams only to worry about this idiot while he decided to try to self-medicate by drinking his problems away.

“Don’t get mad at me for calling you out on your bullshit.” You replied.  “If you act like an idiot, then I’m gonna treat you like one.”

“How’s it look up there on your high horse?” Dabi retorted.

“What?”

“It must be exhausting being so fucking perfect.  Makes everyone else around you look like such fucking failures.”  He turned his angry eyes away from you as he sat down on the end of his bed, running a hand through his messy black hair.

His words slapped you, and you stared at him for a long moment, taking in the sight of him.  His eyes looked tired, his cheeks sallow.  His hair looked tangled and unwashed.  When was the last time he took a shower?  His hand kept rubbing at his neck, no doubt nursing a sore spot.  He must have fallen asleep at his desk after a rough night.  You recalled the night you’d helped him through his withdrawal, and the breakdown it had culminated in.  No doubt he was up all night battling his inner demons.  Alone.  Without your help this time.  Guilt soaked through your frustration.

“I’m sorry.” You muttered. “You’re right, I shouldn’t judge. It’s just…” You sat down in his desk chair.  “I’m trying so hard to help you.  And… well…”

“What?” Dabi prodded. “You think I’m not trying?”

Your eyes fell on the desk, which sat askew in his room, and the bags full of various items that were obviously intended to help Dabi get through the night.  “No…” you replied.  “I know you are.  I just wish you took better care of yourself.”

“I take care of myself just fine.”

Your brow furrowed. “I mean it, Dabi.” You rubbed at your face tiredly, letting your fatigue finally show.  “I’m worrying about you, probably more than I should.  I’m pushing my body to its limits, I can’t sleep, and when I do, I dream about you.  Then I wake up, and I worry even more because I can never be entirely sure that you’re okay.”

You felt your body flush with heat at your sudden confession, and you looked at your hands in embarrassment. You weren’t supposed to say that. You weren’t supposed to say any of that.  Stupid, no-good, tired, foggy brain.

A shit-eating grin spread across Dabi’s face, his eyes lighting up in amusement.  “You dream about me, eh?”

“Shut up.” You grumbled. You grabbed a crumpled-up napkin and threw it at Dabi’s head.  It fell pitifully to the floor, three feet from where he sat.

Dabi stared at the failed attack and gave a laugh.  “That was pathetic.”

You tried to suppress a grin.  “I said shut up.  God, you’re such a brat.”

A moment of silence passed between the two of you before Dabi finally spoke.  “Gotta solution to your problem… Stop worrying so much.”

You gave a small half-smirk. “Sorry, not gonna happen.” You replied.  “I worry about my friends.  That’s just how I am.”

Something did a flip in Dabi’s chest, and he averted his eyes.  “Friends, huh?  You don’t even know me.”

“I know you better today than I did a few days ago…”

He gave a dry laugh. You weren’t wrong…

“If we’re not friends when this is all over, then I will be greatly offended.” You teased. “Besides… like your company.”

Dabi stared at you like you grew a second head.  You liked his company? For the life of him, he couldn’t understand why.  Most of the time you’d spent together so far was him either feeling like shit or being an asshole.

But he liked your company too even though he wouldn’t admit it out loud, and for the moment he didn’t feel like fighting it.  He’d argue with himself later over it for sure, but for right now… he enjoyed feeling your presence, enjoyed how your words wrapped around him like a warm blanket, safe and secure.  His memories still sat upon his shoulders, lurking like crows, but they were silent for now, and he was pretty sure that it had something to do with you being here.

Your voice broke through his thoughts.  “Let’s change your bandage.  Are you okay waiting until I’m done treating you to get your pills?”

“Why, are you punishing me for drinking?” he replied. It took you a moment before you caught on that he was teasing.

You grinned and raised an eyebrow at him.  “No, but now that you mention it, we should probably wait until after we’re done since I don’t know how long ago it was that you drank.”

Dabi narrowed his eyes at you suspiciously.  Now you were just doing this on purpose…

You sat behind him on the bed and began unpacking your materials while he removed his shirt.  When you removed his bandage, you stared at the healing burn for a moment.

“How’s it look?” He asked, glancing back at you over his shoulder.

“It’s healing okay, but it’s still going to take some time until you don’t need the bandages.”

Regardless of the status of his burn, he still needed to see you twice a day for your quirk treatment and pills.  It was exhausting, and you were grateful that so far the others only returned with minor injuries.  But that could change at any moment, and you needed to be able to handle it; otherwise, Shigaraki would start to question your value.

You could only hope that your seller could find a way to expedite Dabi’s medication.  And your own too.  You’d counted what you had left before you’d arrived, and you were getting low. Dangerously low.  You could get through today and tomorrow morning, but if you didn’t have your refills by then…

You tried not to think about it.

You changed his bandages easily and began applying your quirk to his scarred skin just as you’d done the night before.  When you adjusted your position to handle the scars on his front half, the fear crept up again.  But this time, you were able to wrangle it successfully, only hesitating for a moment before you continued.  You broke the silence with words, a helpful distraction from your increasing discomfort and wandering thoughts.

“I didn’t know you smoked.” You commented.

He eyed you for a moment, waiting for another lecture.  But it never came and when your eyes met his in a quick glance, there was no judgment in them.

“Only once in a while.” He replied.

You read between the lines of his answer. “Does it help?”

“A little.”

Silence fell again as you became increasingly focused on your quirk.  Your back was itching painfully again, and your heightened senses were making the light in the room seem far too bright.  Still, your fingers traced along his neck, taking special care to make sure no space was left untouched.  Dabi watched your face, inches from his own.  That was when he noticed it.  Something was wrong.  Your smile was gone, your lips now pressed into a firm line.  You took your breaths in through your nose, and your brows were pulled together as you focused.  Your hands were starting to shake.  Were you scared again?  Or was it something else?

Just as your hands began to reach his face, he grabbed your hands in his own and pulled back slightly out of your reach.  “Stop.”

Your eyes focused on him. “What?  Why?”

“Your quirk.  Does it hurt?” his tone was stern.  

You stared at him, your expression caught like a deer in headlights before looking away abashedly.

“Yeah, sort of.” You replied.

Dabi held your hands, as he waited for a better answer than what you gave him.

Finally, you slowly pulled our hands out of his grasp, his touch leaving electricity on your skin, and sat on the bed next to him with your hands clasped together.

“So, you know how when I use my quirk, it numbs your pain?”  Dabi waited silently for you to continue. “It sort of has an opposite effect on me. The more I use it, the more heightened my senses become.  And if I use my quirk too much, then it becomes… uncomfortable.”

Dabi stared at his hands as you spoke, his brow pulled down into a dark frown.  All this time… he knew you were pushing yourself to your limits; hell, you even said so earlier.  But he had assumed it just caused fatigue.  He never knew that it caused you pain.  How had he never noticed?  How many times had you treated him?

How much did you use your quirk on the first night of his withdrawal?  How far did you really push yourself?

A car alarm went off outside of his open window, and your hands immediately flew up to cover your ears against the assault, your heart pounding. Once the pain and panic dissipated, you lowered your hands, embarrassment hot in your blood.  It was the first time Dabi saw this part of you, and it made you feel weak and vulnerable.

“Sorry.” You mumbled.

Dabi hated those words.  He especially hated hearing them from you.  What the hell did you have to be sorry about?  Anger bubbled in him, old and familiar.  But he forced it down, aware of what his anger did to you as the memories flitted across his mind like a warning.

“It’s fine.”  Dabi replied, keeping his voice even.

Dabi’s mind began turning over this new piece of information, fitting the missing puzzle piece into what little he did have. He became acutely aware of how little he really knew about you.

“Is that what those drugs are for?” he asked.

You paused for a moment, contemplating if you should spin your truth to fit his theory.  But it didn’t feel right.  Earlier you said you considered him a friend. Did you keep secrets from friends?

How much did you really trust him?  How much did he trust you?

He was already trusting you more than you were, letting you help him through something very personal.  You’d seen him vulnerable far more than he’d seen you vulnerable.  So how would he feel if he learned you were keeping the truth from him? 

You wondered how he’d react.  If anyone would understand the pain you went through, it’d be him.  If anything, it might make the two of you closer.  You couldn’t deny that the idea of that resonated with an unspoken need within you.

“Sort of.” You replied, as you fiddled with the hem of your shirt.  “I can’t use them for my sensory overload.  It’d take too many to really have an impact, and I’d probably O.D. if I tried.”

“So, what are they for?”

Wow.  He really wanted to know.

Your heart pounded in your chest, as your words got stuck somewhere between your mouth and your insecurity.  It’d been so long since you’d talked about it, since you’d acknowledged it with another person.  What if he laughed?  After all, how ridiculous did you look complaining about a single scar compared to Dabi??  Or worse, what if he didn’t care at all?

But he’d asked, and now he was waiting for an answer. 

The words still wouldn’t come, so you positioned yourself with your back facing him and lifted your shirt slightly, exposing the damaged flesh beneath.

Dabi’s eyes widened.  He knew a burn scar when he saw one.  And not just any burn scar.  There was a pattern to it, a story in its twisted, marred flesh.  This was done by a quirk.  It spread across your lower back, the edge of it dipping beneath the hem of your pants.  His hand began to reach out, fingers twitching with the urge to touch it, as if his touch could take the hateful mark off of you.  But he caught himself, his fingers inches from your skin, and clenched his hand into a tight fist.

A long, heavy silence begin to fill the space between you while a thousand questions perched on the edge of his lips as he grappled with this new information and the emotions that erupted from it.

The silence dragged on, and you lowered your shirt, as heart-pounding anxiety smothered you.  It filled the dark spaces in you, the weak places where confidence had abandoned you. It settled into a could dread that made you unable to turn around and face him.  Why wasn’t he saying anything?  You squeezed your eyes closed as tears pricked at the corners.

Did you make a mistake?  You shouldn’t have shown him.  You should have just brushed it off or lied when you had the chance.

Tears began to slip down your cheeks, and you struggled to stop them.  But they wouldn’t stop, and you wiped away at them angrily, sniffling as you struggled to contain yourself.

The sound of your distress snapped Dabi out of his obsessive thoughts.  You were crying.  Why?

Was it something he said? But he didn’t say anything.

Was it something he did? But he didn’t do anything.

What the hell was he supposed to do? He had no words of comfort, and he certainly couldn’t hold you, not without crossing a boundary he’d set for himself.  You had called him a friend.  How did friends comfort each other?  He had no fucking clue.

He scratched at his head awkwardly before standing up.  He bit his cheek from the pain in his legs.  Your pills had worn off, and they were in desperate need of attention.  But he forced it into submission, instead making his way to his desk to retrieve a clean napkin and handing it to you.

The small gesture seemed to help, as you gave a small chuckle and accepted the gift, wiping at your eyes as you averted your tear-stained face from him.

“I’m sorry.” You said with a sheepish laugh.

There was that fucking phrase again.

“Don’t be.” He replied.

That answer seemed to help, too.  You finally turned to face him, a sheepish smile on your face.

“I know guys typically freak out when they see a girl cry.” You commented.  “I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable.”

Your emotional reaction embarrassed you, and now you were struggling to save face.

“It’s fine.” He grabbed the bag of chips from earlier and grabbed a couple for himself before holding the bag out to you in offering.  You shook your head, keeping your eyes on your lap. 

“It’s just… it’s been a long time since I’ve shared this with anyone.” You tried to explain.  Not entirely truthful, but not entirely a lie either.

“I shouldn’t have asked.” He replied.

“No, it’s fine.” You replied.  “I understand why you wanted to know.”

Silence followed for a moment, filled only by the sound of Dabi’s crunching.  It grated on your ears, but you didn’t want to say anything, glad that he was at least eating something.  Instead, you tried to cover the noise of his chips with your voice.

“It doesn’t hurt all the time…” you explained.  “Only when my quirk gets overused.  That’s what the pills are for.”

 “What about your sensory overload?” Dabi asked.

You were grateful that the conversation was progressing forward, leaving your mini breakdown in the past.  

 “Usually it’s a matter of reducing exposure.  Turning off lights, quieting noises, that kind of thing.” You replied.

 As you spoke, Dabi watched you. He watched the way you never seemed to look up from your lap for very long, your eyes avoiding the light of his lamp.  Your shoulders were hunched against the cold (or was it the pain?), and he recalled how the car alarm before had made you cover your ears.  

 He grabbed another chip as his mind analyzed all the things that he’d missed before.  As soon as it crunched under his teeth, he saw your hands squeeze tightly on the hem of your shirt before loosening again.

 He stared at the bag, before holding it up to you.  “This bothers you?” he asked.

 You averted your eyes, embarrassed.  “Just a little.”

 He slowly put the bag down on the desk, careful not to have it crinkle too loudly.  “Why didn’t you say something?”

 You shrugged.  He scowled.  Then, he stood up with a wince, and closed his open window, drawing the curtains closed to block the brightening daylight.  As he walked back to sit on the bed next to you, he turned off his lamp, plunging the room into darkness that faded to a comfortable dim light once your eyes had adjusted to the change, morning light seeping into the room at an acceptable level.

 You could feel the relief immediately, and you stared at him, bewildered not just by his kindness, but by his awareness.  Was he really paying attention to you that closely?  It made your blood rush in your ears and your heart do somersaults.

 “Thank you.” You said softly.  

 “It’s not a big deal.” He replied as he leaned back and stared at the light dancing on the ceiling. It was the least he could do, he thought.  This discomfort you were feeling was because of him, after all.  Besides, after all you’d done for him – were still doing for him – he figured you’d earned a little bit of kindness in return.

 But only for you.

 Dammit.

 He really was a lost cause.

 “I’m feeling better now…” you said.  “I can finish treating your scars.”

 “It’s fine.” Dabi lied.

 You stood up and faced him. “Let me at least treat your legs. I wasn’t able to get to them last night.”

 “I said it’s fine.”

 “Dabi…” he looked at you and was met with a knowing look on your face.  “Trust me.  I know my limits.  Besides, this is literally my job.”  

 Dabi frowned at you. “No, your job is to treat injuries, not help drug addicts.”

 “My job is to make sure everyone is able to function to the best of their ability.” You countered. You crossed your arms with a smug look. “Don’t make me go tell Shigaraki that you’re being a bad patient.”

 He scowled and looked away. You took that as a surrender and sent him into the bathroom to change into shorts to make your job easier. When he came back out, he was still frowning.

 “You play dirty.” He complained.  “And not in a fun way.”

 You grinned but didn’t respond as you focused on running your hands along his scarred legs, starting at above the knee.  By the time you were done, your quirk was riding the brink, your back on fire again. But you gritted your teeth and bore it, even as sweat beaded across your face.

 You went to your bag and began to rummage through it, wincing as you bent over.  Your back was facing Dabi, your butt in the air, and he couldn’t help but appreciate the view.  A subtle smirk tugged at his lips.  But the grin was short lived; it fell as soon as you stood up, holding the familiar pill bottle in your hand.

 “No.” Dabi said adamantly.

 “Give me a break.” You replied, as you opened the container. “What other options do we have?”

 You held out the three pills towards him, but he stared at them.  “I can’t take these.” He said.

 You took his hand in yours and placed the pills into his palm, closing his fingers over them. “You can, and you will.” You replied. “Besides, it’s temporary, remember?”

 He opened his mouth to protest, but a ding sounded within the room that made you nearly jump out of your skin with your sensitive hearing.  You clumsily pulled your phone out of your bag and opened up your text messages.  Your eyes lit up, and a smile spread across your face before you put the phone away in your bag.

 “Good news,” you said. “Looks like the refills for my pills will be ready for pickup tomorrow.”

 “What about mine?” Dabi asked.

 Your expression fell slightly.  “He didn’t mention them, so I’m guessing they’re not ready yet.”

 “Well that fucking sucks.”

 “It’s not all bad… once I get my refill, there will be enough for both of us.  I asked him to double up the pills so there’d be enough. Then I can really start treating you properly until your pills arrive.  See?  I told you it’d be temporary…”

 Dabi looked up at your happy face and couldn’t deny the relief he felt knowing you weren’t going to be hurting yourself for him for much longer.  “Fine.” He replied.  He swallowed the pills before he could change his mind.

 You picked up your bag with another wince and made your way to the door.  Dabi stood up to follow you, relishing in the painless effort of walking.  He felt like he could run.

 Before you opened his door, you half-turned to him.  “Get some more rest.”  You wrinkled your nose at him.  “And maybe take a shower.  And brush your teeth.”

 Dabi rolled his eyes. “Yes, mom.”

 After you left, he paused for a moment before sniffing his armpit.  He didn’t really smell that bad… did he?

________________________________

Part 9

________________________________

Taglist (always open!): @lemonfvck @vs-redemption @inanabsentia @sheedaabee @toshiuwuu @marydragneell @chillinwithmybakubros @genuinelytodorokisbitch @sam-i-am-1025 @redflannel @axerrri @necccomancy @miadraws0 @hot-pocket01 @hopelessdisasterr @dummythiccwitch @villainsdeku @aquzairus @officialtrashbusiness @hemdem018 @purplesweethart @doebopeepeebbod @ghost-of-todoroki @marvel-philosophy @lysawayne @udontneedtokno @citrussaurus @littleladdty @starsforannie @zunmieh @mae-rd​ @mrsreina​ @ohh-takuuu​ @ih8beefnoodles @kellyyween​ @jojoniles​ @steale24​  @peach-tea-0  @orenjineki​ @diobrandoatemykids  @minionsexuall @liitlesushi​ @jojoniles​ @bilalbambi  @tinitimesims125 @emmappelle​ @babayaga67​

[twh-news]

Despite nearly 600 voice roles in her prolific voiceover career, Loki star Tara Strong still had to audition for her fan-favorite character Miss Minutes. Strong was initially tasked with bringing the Time Variance Authority’s animated mascot to life in its Jurassic Park-inspired orientation video, which brought Loki up to speed on his current predicament. But in episode two, Miss Minutes even took the form of a hologram that briefly interacted with Loki. So despite her vast resume, Strong was more than happy to audition for such an enigmatic character.

“It’s actually quite surprising for many people to learn that most voice actors — even ones who’ve been in the business for 30 or 40 years — often audition for parts they’ve already had,” Strong tells The Hollywood Reporter. “You have to constantly keep proving yourself in auditioning for new studio people and new showrunners even though they may have hours and hours of tape on you for a character you’ve already done. So I’m happy to audition, and thankfully, it worked out.”

While she can’t say much about Miss Minutes’ future, Strong can confirm that we haven’t seen the last of her.

“I can cryptically tease that you’ll see her again,” Strong shares. “There’s much more to be revealed, and it’s fun to watch that unfold. The beautiful thing about this character is you don’t really know who she is, where she’s from, what her origin story is, how sentient she is, if she has a horse in this race at all, and what her intentions are, if any. Like any good, exciting adventure, TV or film, you are left wondering that all the time. So she’s an intriguing character, and that will continue.”

When Loki director Kate Herron revealed to THR that Miss Minutes’ introduction video was inspired by Jurassic Park‘s Mr. DNA cartoon, most viewers assumed that Strong’s Southern accent was paying homage to the Southern accent of Mr. DNA, but that wasn’t the case.

“I didn’t even know that until I saw Kate Herron talking about it in an interview,” Strong reveals. “I didn’t even make that connection initially when I first started seeing some of the footage. But it is a fun comparison because they both have this juxtaposition of very high-end, modern technology with very basic, classic ’60 and ’70s animation.”

In a recent conversation with THR, Strong dives even deeper into the audition process for voice roles, and then she explains why she wants more synergy between live-action and animated comic book properties.

Since you have a few voice roles [nearly 600] under your belt…

(Laughs.) Just a couple.

I have to imagine that you just got a phone call for Loki‘s Miss Minutes.

I had to audition! It’s actually quite surprising for many people to learn that most voice actors — even ones who’ve been in the business for 30 or 40 years — often audition for parts they’ve already had. You have to constantly keep proving yourself in auditioning for new studio people and new showrunners even though they may have hours and hours of tape on you for a character you’ve already done. But this character, since it was new, needed an entire audition process because I think they were in search of what felt best for this character. So I’m happy to audition, and thankfully, it worked out. (Laughs.)

How much did they tell you?

Normally, for an audition, they’ll give you a drawing of the character, a character description, sides and some backstory into their world, but we really got very little information. I called my agent after I received the packet, and I was like, “Um, can you tell me anything else about this character? Is she sentient? Is she A.I.?” And my agent was like, “I don’t really know.” So nobody knew what it was because it was so top secret. In fact, I didn’t know what it was until I booked it, which, of course, was very exciting. So based on the information that I had, I laid down three different versions in my home studio. I always do the preliminary audition in my home studio. Sometimes, it’ll take me 5 minutes, and sometimes, it’ll take me 3 hours to get it exactly right, knowing that there’s hundreds or thousands of people vying for one role. So I’ll think about what’s going to separate me from the other people and how I’m going to give them something special that they’ll glom onto. For this one, there were three different versions: one of them included an accent, one was a little bit more A.I and one had a little more emotion attached to it. Obviously, once I saw what it was, it made sense that they were keeping it on the DL.

Did they inform you at some point that they wanted an homage to Mr. DNA from Jurassic Park?

No, they didn’t! In fact, I didn’t even know that until I saw Kate Herron talking about it in an interview. I didn’t even make that connection initially when I first started seeing some of the footage. But it is a fun comparison because they both have this juxtaposition of very high-end, modern technology with very basic, classic ’60 and ’70s animation. So it’s this beautiful mix of things that just somehow seem to go together to create this visually stunning and exciting world, as well as the voiceover behind it. It just all seems to go together to create this enigma. Who is she? Where is she from? What’s her origin story? Why does she look like she’s from the ’70s but she knows everything from the future. It’s really cool.

When it came time to record in earnest, you must’ve been baffled by what you were reading, but then again, you’re probably used to it.

Yeah, and I’ve done several voices with similar descriptions and similar varying levels of A.I. I was the voice of the singing refrigerator [Bridget] on an episode of Modern Family, and initially, they wanted it very Siri-like. And then we added a little more attitude to it. So I’ve done that sort of thing several times, and I know how to manipulate my voice enough to sound like A.I. It’s that sound where you question whether there’s actual emotion behind it. Miss Minutes is such an interesting character because initially you think she’s just someone who’s giving exposition on what happens to you when you get to the TVA. But by episode two, you realize she’s got a little attitude. So she’s a lot of fun to play with.

Before live-action comic book stories became a global juggernaut, animated comic book movies and shows were a primary frame of reference for a lot of these characters. So I’ve always felt that there could be more synergy or crossover between live action and the animation/voice acting community. Are you hopeful that your role as Miss Minutes can help bridge that gap?

That would be pretty wonderful. It is true that voice actors and legacy voice actors — who’ve been at it for so long and are so brilliant at bringing characters to life just with their voice — get passed over for on-camera celebrities that maybe the casting director wants to meet or because someone thinks they’ll bring big box office. If you were to record two very big animated features, one starring on-camera people and one starring people who’ve been doing voiceover for a while, you would definitely hear the difference in the little idiosyncrasies and other things that we know how to do in order to bring this action to life. Overall, there certainly is plenty of crossover when you look at someone like Robin Williams, Tom Hanks, or my favorite, Mark Hamill, who’s brilliant at doing both on-camera and voiceover. But then you do have the A-list celebrities who will come in for an animated session and freak out when they see what everyone else does. Of course, it’s still acting, but it’s a different form of acting. It’s like asking a tap dancer if they do ballet. It is wonderful that the Internet has given voiceover actors a lot of love that maybe their predecessors never knew existed. Now, people can look up who their favorite voiceover actor is, and when I go to a comic con, I’m treated like a superstar who people know. It’s wonderful to be able to give back to those fans, and give hugs, and hear stories about how shows shaped their childhood or brought their family together or got them through a depressing time. So that kind of stuff has been really nice. I certainly didn’t anticipate Loki being so huge, and the reception to Miss Minutes being so wonderful and so loving right out of the gate. So maybe this will give networks [and studios] pause, so they think, “Hey, let’s give one of the voiceover actors a shot at this role. Maybe it’ll be more fun than so and so from The Office. Just for this time, let’s see how this goes.” (Laughs.) If somebody suits the role and does a great job, they should be granted that role regardless of how many Twitter followers they have or how many episodes of an episodic they’ve done.

Loki director Kate Herron said that Miss Minutes is about to go on an “interesting” journey. So what can you cryptically tease about Miss Minutes moving forward?

Well, I can cryptically tease that you’ll see her again. (Laughs.) There’s much more to be revealed, and it’s fun to watch that unfold. When you see the first episode, you think perhaps that she’s just a recording on a screen, but in episode two, we see that she can become a holographic form and interact with Loki. He even responded to her and asked, “Are you a recording, or are you alive?” And we still don’t know. The beautiful thing about this character is you don’t really know who she is, where she’s from, what her origin story is, how sentient she is, if she has a horse in this race at all, and what her intentions are, if any. Like any good, exciting adventure, TV or film, you are left wondering that all the time. So she’s an intriguing character, and that will continue.

She got her own character poster, so that’s usually a sign of importance.

She did! And she has her own Twitter! She also has the cutest emoji hashtag I’ve ever seen in my life. (Laughs.)

When Morgan Freeman gets hired for voiceover work, he’s hired to do Morgan Freeman. So what percentage of your jobs ask you to invent a voice, versus using something that’s trademark Tara Strong?

That’s a very good question. Like I said before, they’ll give you a drawing of the character and some backstory into who they are. And then you, as the voice actor, have to try and imagine what production had in mind for this character. With that said, you have to be free to let something organic come to you and take chances. Sometimes, things don’t happen until the very last minute. My favorite example of that would be Teen Titans. When I first read for that, I was already doing five tragic teenage girls: Batgirl for the same network, Ingrid from Fillmore!, Kylie from Extreme Ghostbusters and Shareena Wickett from Detention. I was like, “Gosh, I have to make each character different, but I’m not sure how to make Raven stand apart from the other similar descriptive personalities.” So when I read for Raven, I just put myself in the acting mindset of where she was, and I read the part. And when I walked out of the studio, I passed the booth where the engineer, director and writer were sitting. So I turned to [casting director] Andrea Romano, who I’d been working on Batgirl, and said, “I just had this other idea. Can I try something else?” And she said, “Sure.” So I went back in and that’s when I had this idea that Raven had this weird little roll every time she spoke. So that was not something I planned when I first walked into the studio. You have to be unafraid to try something new and different, and to also be malleable to what production wants. Sometimes, they’ll really love what you did, but then they’ll want her to be older, or missing teeth, or have headgear, or Southern. (Laughs.) So you have to be ready to jump right in and try all kinds of different things until it lands right into the pocket of what works for that voice.

Would you perform your voice roles the same way in live action? Or would you use less inflection?

More than likely, it would be less broad because the cameras are there. On an animated show, if the line is “Whoa!” and your character sees a hot guy or is falling off a cliff, you have to know how to bring that action forth with your voice. When you’re watching something on-camera unfold in front of you, you don’t have to tell the audience so much with your voice. If you’re doing a sitcom, it’s going to be bigger than if you’re doing a single-camera drama. I just worked on a series for 6 months in Toronto, and my character was basically an on-camera Harley but as a drug-dealer mom. It’s a show called Pretty Hard Cases. And it wouldn’t have worked if I played her as broad as animation. With that said, if I got to play actual Harley Quinn as a mom, it would be bigger than that, but probably not as big as an animated thing. It would be somewhere in the middle. Even within animation, you tweak your level of performance based on the world. For instance, I’ve done many iterations of Harley where she’s the high school girl, or in some cases, she’s even darker than Joker. So you have to know the world around you. Some of the best actors that sustain long careers are very highly aware of what environment they’re in at each moment. So the show or the movie really dictates the level of performance.

[seyaryminamoto]

Hi. Love your story. I just have a question that might seem stupid if you've already explained it in story and I've forgotten the answer as gladiator is so long. But what's stopping Azula from just taking the throne from her father via tradition and agni kai? By now she's so powerful that Ozai can't stop her, his assassin can't stop her, nobody can, she's smarter, commoners love her, she has loyal, capable soldiers, so a duel or a bloodless coop would be easy, then she can enact her reforms.

I have explained it in asks before, I thought the story might speak for itself... but it's okay if you want me to answer it again xD

There's a few factors that prevent Azula from pulling off something like this. There's a major emotional component that still is in play, that reared its head in both of Ozai's absolute WORST arcs until now, Slave Riot and Fire Lord's Shadow, where Azula couldn't have been more disappointed with her father... but even though Sokka told her there may come a time when she has to make up her mind to stand up against Ozai and overthrow him, Azula doesn't have it in her to do it yet. The little moments where Ozai acts like a moderately decent person to her always take her by surprise, and in the end, unlike how it seems to have been for Zuko in canon, Azula is always conscious, always aware, that this is her father, namely because her relationship with him is far more complicated since he brought up Azula under the belief that he was her steadfast ally, he supported her through her childhood and teenage years, and he occasionally shows signs of caring about her... all of which he never did for Zuko. While she has broken free from so much of Ozai's ideological indoctrination and she KNOWS, by now, that he's a pretty awful human being, her attachment to Ozai is still ingrained in her heart. As it is, there's only two characters in this story who genuinely care about Ozai as a person, and Azula is one of them. Standing up to him, to the extent of stirring up a serious rebellion, isn't something she's fully ready to do yet.

Next component is the effectiveness of this potential rebellion: there's one ironic factor that WILL come into play, regarding what you've said in this ask, in the final arc of Part 2. As much as we would think Agni Kais can be fought pretty easily, there's one little thing about them that I don't think people take all that seriously (a little thing canon even took advantage of, in the final episodes of Book 2), a little thing that can completely fuck up the idea of taking the throne through a very honorable duel where no lives will go to waste. Simply put... an Agni Kai may not be the easy solution in this case that it should be, and the story itself WILL show why.

Finally, while there's tradition to be taken into account, even if you hypothesize Azula could do all this and succeed at taking her father's throne, there's factors that wouldn't be all that favorable if she did this. By which I mean... even if Ozai were honorable (... spoiler alert: he's not :'D), even if he commanded all his subjects to abide by the result of a hypothetical Agni Kai where Azula defeated him, there will be some subjects who would outright refuse to do as they're told. Said subjects would absolutely start a civil war in the Fire Nation, and the bloodless coup would become a very bloody matter indeed, especially if Azula's reforms are seen (as they realistically would be) as a departure and dismissal of every belief and ideology the Fire Nation has been clinging to for over a hundred years. It's hard enough to make one person let go of such beliefs, it's a lot harder to do it with a whole nation.

So... Azula herself doesn't expect that an attempt to take Ozai's throne permanently would be successful unless she has a MUCH stronger army to back her up than her ten supportive guards and Sokka. Even in Ba Sing Se in canon, Azula's plans are geared towards getting the actual military force of the city on her side before overthrowing Kuei and Long Feng. Once the Dai Li answer to her, the bloodless coup is far more feasible because the very people who would react adversely to a foreign power taking control, under any other circumstances, are her allies now. Here, she can't really take for granted that every soldier would join her, especially when there's figures like General Shaofeng, who have jurisdiction and power over a lot more people than she's even aware of, who has been keeping an eye on her for all these years, expecting her to pull off an attempt to overthrow her father (if it wasn't obvious, this is what he's been expecting and waiting for, what he assumes she's been up to the whole time), and while to some people he may not seem that big a threat, Azula herself is unaware, so far, of how much power this guy has, and even then, she knows that giving him any cause to truly suspect she's up to no good can result in nefarious consequences, not only for herself but for her closest allies, the very guards who support her but are supposed to obey Shaofeng, and live their lives under the man's watchful glare.

Anyway, all this being said, it's not like Azula hasn't thought about it, because she has. Sokka in particular has made her ponder this possibility quite a bit, and she has even acknowledged forging an alliance with the White Lotus could prove helpful if that means having enough forces to counter whatever her father and his minions might be willing to throw at her if she tries to rebel. She needs more time, however, more chances to really think about how to do this... and well, the brilliant opportunity Ozai is extending towards her, where she'd even have the full continent of the Earth Kingdom under her direct political control? It's almost the perfect answer to her doubts when it comes to this matter. In a way, Ozai would be handing her the means, unknowingly, to gather a force strong enough to overthrow him when the time is right. She has already made a few moves as it is, Ozai has allowed her to enact a few of her reforms already, but upon gaining power like no other Crown Prince or Princess in the Fire Nation ever has before, future High Governor Azula could, presumably, defeat her father fair and square and take over the Fire Nation for good... if she can distance herself from her emotional attachment to the man for long enough to do it, that is :')

[angelicamerlinbarnes]

TUA HUNGER GAMES AU:

(please understand that by AU, I mean they share an incredibly small amount of things in common with the original source material which I barely remember BUT the “story” takes place in the setting of the books/films) (not to be misleading or anything :p)

(BEWARE: abuse, murder, human experimentation, etc.)

(If you can handle watching Umbrella Academy AND The Hunger Games, this will be fine for you.)

(Katniss) Allison doesn’t want to be here, but she wasn’t just gonna let Ray be taken from her by a stupid punishment meant for her great-grandparents. She resolves to win the Games for Ray, so she can make it back to him and they can start their lives together in a better place. But when she wins, her life is changed in ways she never could’ve anticipated.

(Peeta) Luther won a few years ago. He’s Allison’s age, but lives up in Victor’s Village, hiding from the rest of the District. She’s the only one who’s seen him in years, as she brings him food and supplies from town as one of her jobs. She’s fallen in love with him, and he with her, and when she goes to the Games, Luther begins to work with Ray to find and aid the rebellion, hoping to bring her home alive.

(Gale) Ray has understood the tragedy of the Games far better than most others since he was very little. He was chosen when he was twelve, but his sister volunteered for him and died in the last rounds of the Games. He’s been dreaming of running away ever since, writing his pamphlets and letters in hopes of stirring up a revolution, and when Luther approaches him for help, he thinks it might just finally work. He just hopes he doesn’t lose Allison, who he’s been planning on marrying since the day he met her, now that she’s volunteered for him too. Too many people love him, he thinks, and too much.

(Rue) Claire is a young girl Allison makes friends with during her Games, taking on a motherly role to her. Claire is struck down by another tribute, Patrick, and Allison killed him, but not before Claire is already too far gone. Allison holds her as she dies and joins the revolution, eventually, in her name.

(Prim) Vanya fell in love with Sissy a long time ago. Her husband died in the coal mines, and Vanya has been a nanny and second mother to her adopted son Harlan ever since. When Harlan is chosen, Vanya volunteers in his place, knowing she’ll die. Imagine her surprise when Allison saves her with a scheme about sisterly love.

(Johanna) Lila was one of the younger victors, known for seeming meek and eventually murdering over half her fellow tributes to win. She went mad with grief and rage after the Games, and only Diego, her beloved brother who she volunteered for, could calm her. Eudora is her lover, though they keep it exceptionally quiet, and she’s incredibly close with Five, though they’ll never be self-sacrificial for one another, as it breaks their agreement to respect each other as warriors. Lila’s ready to murder Reginald for what he did to her family - but first she wants to murder the Handler, who’s kept her on a leash for years by threatening Diego’s life.

(Finnick) Eudora is a victor, and the capital’s darling. She’s quite daring and charming, and seeks to help and mentor every tribute she can, not just those from her District. She, Diego, and Lila, a victor she mentored and later her lover, were childhood friends and were all possible contenders for the Games, though Diego never participated despite being Reaped twice because both Eudora and Lila volunteered for him. She considers Diego a brother, and ensures he is safe when his rebellion threatens his life. She is the hero of the revolution, and eventually takes over as President of Umbrellacademy (Panem) after the war is won.

(Snow) Reginald is the President of Umbrellacademy, and is hated by every District. Five has tried multiple times to kill him, but Reginald has escaped his murderous clutches every time. With each attempt, Reginald has locked Five away in a pitch-black room deep beneath the ground for days or weeks on end with only food and water as signs of life. Because of this, Five is distrusting and angry and doesn’t show loyalty to those if he can help it, yet is terrified of being alone. (Five is, however, the one who executes Reginald in the end. Because he goddamn deserves to.)

(Coin / Dr. Gaul) The Handler runs the Commission (District 13), a former District bombed into nothing in the first war. Five became her ally when he won, but soon realized she held nothing but contempt for the people of the Districts just like Reginald, and escaped from her. She keeps a tight grasp on Lila, who she knows was Five’s ally and friend, and works even harder towards her goal of taking over Umbrellacademy and ruling the lands for herself. In the end, Lila kills her when she gives her an ultimatum: choose unfathomable power and riches and kill Five, or choose Five and die by his side. Lila gives her a sad look and plunges her sword into the Handler’s heart wordlessly, gathering Five to her chest.

(Haymitch) Five has been bitter and angry since his victory, which occurred in the first quarter quell. His District chose him overwhelmingly, voting for him to be in the Games because he offered to give up his life for their children by being the tribute, knowing he could win. The trouble came when his fellow tribute Dolores, an unwanted, became his ally and friend, eventually sacrificing herself for him. One of her snakes bit him and the venom made him ageless, so he’s looked thirteen for forty-five years. He helps run the resistance, eventually leading it as the war worsens and they lose more and more people. Because of Dolores, he does not allow anyone to get too close to him, but is kind and loyal to anyone he does choose to hold his favor - Lila, Diego, Klaus, Allison, Luther, Vanya, and Ben. Though he’s gone mad from his traumatic experiences and time alone, he’s still one of Umbrellacademy’s most treasured citizens, and lives celebrated as a war hero by every survivor comes the war’s end.

(Effie) Klaus travelled to the Capitol when he was seventeen after his lover Dave volunteered for him in District 12. Horrified, Klaus followed him as a stowaway on the train, earning Five’s respect and protection. When Dave died, Klaus was devastated, and turned to drinking and partying to drown his woes. He works for the resistance with Five, but keeps his persona so bubbly and aloof nobody would ever suspect him of being even nearly as smart as he is. He’s found ways to manipulate the Capitol’s scientific brilliance for his own tributes’ advantage, once he won his right to be an escort for his District following Dave’s death. He used this knowledge to save one of his tributes, Ben, whom he formed so strong an attachment to they became near-lovers, partners in all but the physical. Klaus faked his death during training and preserved his spirit in the body of a mockingjay, who he keeps as a pet. He is dangerous, but vulnerable - for all his brilliance, Klaus is prone to emotional attachments, and finds himself making careless mistakes when the lives of his loved ones are threatened.

(Cinna) Diego is the fashion designer for District 12, having come to the Capitol with his sister Eudora after she won her Games. They’re both from District 4, but he instead chooses to work for 12, entranced by the District’s escort Klaus from their first meeting. The two fall deeply in love, but only acknowledge it in coded conversations and never touch if they can help it, knowing that to take any risk in revealing their feelings for each other would result in one or both of them being killed by the Capitol as an example. Diego has another sister in Lila, who volunteered for him when he was Reaped a second time, and protects both of them with his life. He is close to Five, who he works with closely when training tributes, and immediately recognizes Allison as the face of their rebellion, risking his life for her in the hopes that she will lead them to a better world where he can finally hold Klaus in his arms.

(Cato) Leonard is a tribute in Allison’s Games. He tries to kill Vanya, which prompts Allison to kill him towards the end of the Games. Though he had very little chance originally due to being from the incredibly poor District 8, he grew in danger with every tribute dead, and was well-known for his manipulative charm that won him many sponsors. Allison’s hatred of him does not stop him from showing himself as a prominent victim in her many traumatic dreams.

Hazel and Cha-Cha are peacekeepers, both of whom have wavering loyalties to the Capitol. Hazel is on the fence because he fell in love with a District 12 marketplace vendor, Agnes, and Cha-Cha has been in touch with the Commission for years, hoping to bring the rebellion to the forefront and finally make a safe home with Hazel that isn’t so structured and merciless. This is made difficult by the fact that the Handler has complete control over them, threatening Agnes’ life if they don’t cooperate, and they’ll both do anything to save her - Hazel because he loves her, and Cha-Cha because she loves Hazel.

Agnes is a woman from District 12 who sells tributes lucky charms. She gave Allison her wolf, and Five his snake, and Klaus his mockingjay, and continues to help her people in whatever way she can, offering them bread and treats in secret whenever she manages to scrounge some from Hazel and Cha-Cha. She’s a prominent figure in the black market, but dies when District 12 is bombed, prompting Hazel and Cha-Cha to begin infiltrating the Peacekeepers from the inside despite the overwhelming risks.

(Lucy Gray) Dolores was Five’s ally and friend in his Games, one who shared his emblem of snakes. She learned to control them and change their venom’s property with herbs, granting Five agelessness when she had one bite him just before dying in his arms, having sacrificed herself so he could win. Her death cemented Five’s hatred of the Games and Capitol and his belief of attachments as weaknesses, and he often hallucinates her and speaks with her phantom when he’s locked away from the world, leading her to be known as a sore subject with Five and his greatest weakness. (That is, until his new family comes along and gives him something to fight for.)

(Mockingjay) Ben was a tribute in one of Klaus’ first Games as an escort, and he fell in deep platonic love with him. The two remained bonded throughout the years, as Klaus saved Ben by faking his death and keeping him in the body of a mockingjay until their victory in the second war, and Ben stayed by Klaus’ side for all that time as his beloved pet. Klaus would receive the names of marks from Five and give Ben poison to kill them with, having found a way to alter the venom in Ben’s talons from records of Dolores and Five’s Games, and a couple of vague and shallow conversations between himself and the latter. When Ben returns to his human form, Klaus tugs him into his arms and thanks him for all he’s done, never leaving his side again.

[luzarya]

Homunculus

Twst ocs & Yuu

Summary: Yuu finds themselves dragged to a ritual as soon as they were left by Crowley in the beginning. What they find out surprised them, but they take the information with stride.

warnings and tags: slight need mention, blood mention, mention (temporary) character death, happy ending tho

ao3 link: here

word count: 1,313

--

Yuu was frazzled, confused, and most of all, scared.

They had only been here in this new world of Twisted Wonderland, for what, an hour? And already, they’ve gotten into too much trouble for their own good.

As of now, they were huddled in the abandoned attic of the Ramshackle dorm. The monster that had harassed them earlier was asleep, snoring away as Yuu was going through this horrid ritual. They were not alone either, oh no, for a fox familiar was there with them. Well, at least, they were told it was a fox familiar, and sure enough, the fox was a fox… earlier. Not now.

Instead of a fox, a person with fox ears and tails, horns as well, replaced the familiar. Yet, they were one and the same.

“Don’t worry Yuu, you’ll remember, soon enough,” the fox, called Mikhail, told them with a pleasant voice. It didn’t ease Yuu’s worries however. Too many things in such a small window of time surely couldn’t be good for a person.

As for what Mikhail was doing… Yuu couldn’t guess, but from what they could see, a life-size doll with no features laid on the wooden floor, underneath it a circle with sigils and the like. There were candles as well, just bright enough to make out what was in the attic itself. They were placed out of the way where the rainwater, so that they wouldn’t go out, although a few of the candles did go out anyways.

Overall: A Very Not Good Experience.

“Hey, Yuu,” Mikhail called over softly, his glowing amber eyes making him appear eerie. Didn’t help that his pupils had slits either.

“Yes?” Yuu squeaked, clutching onto the ceremonial clothing they still adorned. Right after Crowley had left, Mikhail had shifted to his human form and pulled Yuu to the attic. The flaming cat, Grim, gave zero fucks and went to bed.

“May I have some of you blood? I just need you to prick your finger, just a little. Over the doll, please?”

Yuu didn’t reply, but they did scoot over, now closer to the fox shifter. Mikhail handed Yuu a rather large needle. Gulping, Yuu took it, and they hovered over the life size doll. How Mikhail managed to get a clay doll into the attic was beyond them, but they didn’t question it.

Yuu pricked their finger, a small drop of blood splattering onto the face of the doll. A few more drops, then there was a small, tiny pool of blood.

“That’s enough. Now, hold my hand, please?”

Yuu complied, letting Mikhail hold onto their non-pricked hand. Mikhail urged them to close their eyes, so they did. Now that their vision was gone, their sense of hearing was heightened, as Yuu made out some words spilling out from Mikhail, feeling a rather warm sensation overtake them.

Then pain.

Yuu fell into Mikhail’s grasp, as he continued on with his cantation, feeling pain with every inch of their body. They faintly heard themselves howling in pain, as something was making its way out from their stomach and through their throat, and lastly their mouth. It wasn’t vomit, Yuu could tell, but it wasn’t pleasant either. Whatever that had escaped from Yuu had fully emerged out, leaving Yuu to heave loudly against Mikhail.

Just what was that?

Their body was sore, but thankfully no longer in pain. Yuu didn’t even know if they could move a muscle. They remained in Mikhail’s embrace, the cantation still going on. It became louder, as Mikhail was now audibly heard. Yuu could feel the floor tremble beneath them, wondering if it would continue to hold.

At the last few moments, Yuu felt a rather excruciating headache, clutching onto their head as Mikhail’s arms strengthened their hold around them.

Memories came flooding in- all seven overblots, the things that the dorm leaders went through in their childhood, how events had unfolded, and the like. Yet, happy memories came along as well, recalling how Ace and Deuce aided them and hung out with them, such as the small sleepovers they occasionally had and goofing off in class.

Yet…

These events had not happened.

So why-

“Ehhhhh,” a feminine voice groaned loudly besides Yuu. It was all too familiar, but Yuu couldn’t-

No. They remembered. It was Rosamund… And Mikhail was their partner.

Rosamund and Mikhail were their fox familiars.

“You can open your eyes now, Yuu,” Mikhail gently told them. Yuu did as told, the room too dark, the candles having gone out. Yuu glanced over to where the life-size doll was, but instead, they were met with a lookalike. Same black hair and red eyes, yet the figure before them was more feminine than them… and naked.

“So, how’s my original body, Yuu?” The doll, Rosamund, asked.

Right.

They weren’t in their own body.

“It’s fine, but-”

“You died, kid,” Rosamund interrupted, quick to answer the question that Yuu was about to ask.

“I… What now?”

“She’s right,” Mikhail replied, letting go of Yuu. Yuu looked at the two of them, but their memories weren’t returning past a certain point.

“All I remember is Malleus’ overblot,” Yuu said, “we were just finishing it, and from there, it was all black.”

“Yea,” Rosamund stood up, stretching, Yuu looking away, “You died. Well, you fell asleep first, but then you died in your sleep. So,” Rosamund sat back down, giving a toothy grin, “We’re starting all over again. Fun, isn’t it?”

“What happened to my body…?”

“Ah,” Rosamund quieted. They looked away, not wanting to deliver the news.

Mikhail sighed, “It… decayed. We had to quickly save your soul, so we implemented it into Rosamund’s body.”

“Slowly,” Rosamund quietly began, “My original body will adapt to become yours. Slowly, you’ll look like you originally did. Although…” Rosamund summoned fire at her fingertips, relighting one of the nearby candles, “You’ll have magic this time. The mirror didn’t detect it, but you have magic. Granted, it’s locked away.”

“...locked away?”

“Yes,” Mikhail stood up, offering Yuu a hand, “It’s technically Rosamund’s magic, but it will eventually become your own. As for Rosamund, for now, they’ll just adapt to their new body.”

“Wouldn’t it have been easier for me to be in the doll?” Yuu inquired, taking Mikhail’s hand. They were right- it was hard to move, much less walk.

“Your soul can only persist for so long once it leaves your body. Our souls, however, will linger for years on end. Well, yours could, although, only with strong negative emotions or attachments.”

“...oh.”

Mikhail offered a small smile, as he helped Yuu walk to the exit, leaving the mess of the ritual behind. Looking back, he yelled over to Rosamund to clean up the mess.

“Aight, just get Yuu to bed. They’ll need all the energy that they can get,” was Rosamund’s reply.

Mikhail aided Yuu in getting down from the attic, now on the second floor of the building. He was kind enough to show Yuu to the dorm head’s room, coincidentally where Grim was asleep.

With the help of magic, Mikhail managed to tidy up the room, drastically changing the items to be repaired and be of use. This included the pitiful bed, Grim only grunting upon the movement.

“There isn’t any other suitable bed around, so please, push Grim a little and make room for yourself.”

Yuu nodded, and complied to the fox shifter’s commands.

Just as they were going to say good night, Yuu no longer saw Mikhail, instead, saw two foxes in front of them, one red, the other black.

Yuu smiled, and said;

“Good night, Mikhail, Rosamund. Let’s be sure to not die…. this… time…zzz.”

The events of the day caught up with Yuu, the foxes watching as Yuu fell asleep. The foxes moved around, and got themselves comfortable.

For a long adventure laid ahead of them.

[lucys-key]

Talking to the Moon (Erwin x Levi)

Levi reminisces about his time with his commander and partner, Erwin Smith.

(*Inspired by this beautiful art by paliira*)

Rating: Mature (no explicit NSFW content, though)

Warnings: Nothing too bad. Just some emotions, memories, first kiss.

*Spoilers* for AOT season 3 included.

...

“Give up on your dream and die.”

Words that have been repeating in Levi’s mind over and over again.

Words he didn’t realize he’d have to speak so soon. Words he secretly, foolishly, hoped he would never have to speak.

But Levi should have known better, should have been prepared the moment Erwin announced the operation to reclaim Wall Maria.

He knew most, if not everyone, wouldn’t come back alive. Expedition after expedition had taught Levi that death in his world, in his occupation, was something to be expected.

Countless people he cared about had been lost to humanity’s quest to learn more about their cruel world, yet Levi pushed on.

Despite the horrors outside of the walls and the promise of death, he went on expedition after expedition because he believed in the quest. He believed in the goal. Most of all, he believed in Erwin’s goal: get to the basement.

Levi hadn’t thought much about the outside world before he met Erwin. He spent his entire childhood and young-adult life underground, trying his best just to survive inside the walls.

Then Erwin Smith swooped into Levi’s life one day, the commander of the nation’s Scout Regiment, telling him that there could be more to his existence. Levi could be a soldier of humanity, someone who could help uncover the secrets of the Titans and their world. Erwin, quite literally, changed Levi’s life forever.

Throughout Levi’s time as a Scout, Erwin was a reassuring presence for him: a man who was always strong, never wavered, and determined to reach his goal. Despite the immense loss and heartbreak Levi faced as a Scout, he knew, in a small place at the back of his mind, that Erwin would always be there when they reunited after their missions.

Erwin may have been the first man Levi ever trusted.

Inevitably, the men became reliant on each other. Erwin, the steadfast commander, and Levi, his strongest and most trusted soldier. Levi sought Erwin’s guidance on every mission, relying on the commander’s judgment to lead them to success, or just to get the most of them back alive as possible.

After months of the powerful bond they shared as soldiers, Levi’s feelings grew beyond just admiration and respect for the commander. He can’t place the exact moment when he knew, but one day, he just did.

Their bond as people grew. Erwin became a fixture in Levi’s life beyond the battlefield, and Levi began to find it hard to imagine a world without him. That scared Levi more than any Titan.

Becoming attached to people was something Levi avoided as best he could because he knew all too well what this life had in store for him: death, loss, and pain. But no matter how hard he tried to seal away his emotions, Levi found himself helpless when it came to Erwin. Levi didn’t want to keep his emotions hidden around him.

Levi’s life had been an exhausting, non-stop fight for liberation, and he was tired of trying to distance himself from everyone who he could ever possibly care about.

So, maybe foolishly, Levi let Erwin become the one person around whom he could let his guard down. The line between commander and captain became blurred as “Commander” became just “Erwin,” and “Captain” was just “Levi.”

During the days when they weren’t on missions, it was harder for the men to spend time together, as they often had separate tasks. At night, however, it became an unspoken routine for them to spend time in Erwin’s office at the Survey Corps headquarters.

No matter how tough his day had been, Levi would always make it to Erwin’s office in the evenings. He cherished the nights in Erwin’s office when it was just the two of them.

They’d make tea, take off their jackets (which Levi always made sure to hang in the small coat closet), and if they both still had work to finish, they’d sit together at the wooden table and work in silence. If Levi didn’t have work, he’d sit and drink his tea, just watching Erwin come up with formations, plans, whatever it was he did.

One night, while Erwin was concentrating on something he was writing, Levi stood up and walked over to the large window on one of the office walls. He stood there watching the city and the people below. He closed his eyes, and for just a second, imagined that the world didn’t exist beyond Erwin’s office.

Levi heard the faint sound of a chair moving against the carpeted floor, and seconds later, felt Erwin’s presence next to him.

Levi opened his eyes and saw that Erwin was looking at him with a soft smile on his face.

“What?” Levi asked, shifting his gaze from Erwin to the window.

“What were you thinking about?” Erwin was looking outside too. He could see the moon full and bright in the sky.

Staring at one of the many houses in the distance, Levi replied, “Nothing.”

Erwin let out a fond laugh, knowing that “nothing” meant Levi was thinking about something he probably couldn’t express in words.

Levi turned to face Erwin again as he moved forward and put his hands at the base of the window to pull it open.

Levi continued to watch as Erwin lifted himself up to sit on the wide ledge and let his legs hang down outside.

Erwin moved all the way to the left side of the window ledge and looked back at Levi once he was situated.

They’d never done this before. In fact, Levi wasn’t even aware that the windows in Erwin’s office could open.

Levi watched as the soft white light from the moon casted a glow around Erwin’s head, making his blonde hair look almost white.

Erwin smiled again. “Come. Sit,” he said, gesturing to the empty space on the window ledge next to him.

Levi hesitated for a moment, but then found himself moving towards the window. He hoisted himself onto the ledge and sat beside Erwin, feeling the pleasantly cool air from outside rush over his body.

Levi turned to look at Erwin who was looking into the distance, focusing loosely on the walls looming over the city.

“We have another mission soon. I was able to secure the proper funding,” Erwin said, still looking at the walls.

Levi turned to gaze at the walls as well, the confirmation of another expedition outside settling over him.

“That’s good,” Levi replied after a moment.

They sat in silence for a few minutes until Levi heard the material of Erwin’s clothes rustle as he turned to face him.

“Do you resent me?” Erwin asked.

Levi turned to face Erwin, caught off guard by the question. What could he possibly resent him for?

When Levi didn’t respond, Erwin continued. “I feel responsible for dragging you into all of this.”

Erwin sighed and moved his gaze from Levi back to the walls. “You could’ve had a much different life had I not forced you to join the Scouts.”

Levi stared at Erwin as he spoke. He didn’t know if he had the words to express to Erwin exactly how he felt. Although Levi’s time with the Scouts had brought him some of the greatest pain he’d ever known, and at first, he did hate Erwin for punishing him in such a way, he was still filled with gratitude— gratitude towards Erwin.

The commander had granted Levi a purpose, a way to make sense of his existence in this world. No matter how tough things got, no matter the hardships, Levi could think of Erwin’s dream, his hope for humanity, and become grounded again.

Levi sighed and put his hands behind him on the ledge to rest on them.

“That’s ridiculous,” he said simply.

Erwin looked at Levi, and then let out a soft laugh. He knew what Levi meant. He always knew.

“That’s good to hear,” Erwin replied, and leaned back on his hands to match Levi’s position.

“Besides,” Erwin added, looking up at the moon, “you are far too beautiful to live a life underground.”

Levi scoffed, not quite knowing how to react to such a statement.

“Very funny,” he said.

But Erwin turned to look at Levi then, and it was clear that there was nothing funny about what he had just said.

It wasn’t the first time Levi had received a compliment from Erwin, but something about this just felt… different. Levi found himself out of his depth.

Still looking at his most trusted captain, Erwin thought for a moment before speaking.

“Making you join the Scouts was a punishment, yes, but I also recognized your skill that day,” Erwin said, referring to their first meeting. “I knew, more than anything else, that we needed you. I just knew.”

Levi continued to watch as Erwin spoke, his blue eyes seemingly lost in thought and reminiscence.

“This world is full of ugly things,” Erwin continued. “I know all too well. Titans, violence, death…” he trailed off a moment before speaking again. “I began to wonder if this life, if this world, could ever be beautiful.”

“But then I saw you,” Erwin said, giving Levi one of the most tender smiles he’d ever seen. Levi felt his heart do something strange as he looked at Erwin’s face.

“A thief, reckless, strong-willed, a bit arrogant,” Erwin reached his hand out to brush a hair off of Levi’s face that had been moved by the soft breeze, “but so, so beautiful.”

Levi found himself speechless. He never thought he’d want to hear those words from someone, never cared for that kind of affection. But in that moment, as he sat on the window ledge in the night, Erwin’s words were the only thing he wanted to hear.

“Your skills gave me hope, that’s true,” Erwin said, still keeping his gaze fixed on Levi. “But more than that, you gave me hope. If someone like you existed in a world like this, how bad could it really be?”

Levi didn’t know what kind of face he was making at that moment, but it must have been quite remarkable as a look of shock came over Erwin’s face, but then his expression softened.

“I’m sorry. That was a lot,” Erwin said, knowing that Levi wasn’t used to such displays of emotion.

Levi continued to stare at the man next to him with his lips parted, still processing everything Erwin had just told him. How does one respond to such a confession? Erwin had always been the one with more eloquence, always knowing exactly what to say. Levi wasn’t that way.

He took a deep breath and tried his best to return to his usual neutral expression. But that was nearly impossible. Levi’s mind and heart were running at what felt like light speed, and he didn’t know what to do. He had never felt like this.

Eventually, Levi was able to say, “No. It’s fine,” trying his best to keep his voice even.

If possible, Erwin’s smile became even more tender, and Levi knew—he knew that he wanted Erwin to be his partner, in more than just battle. But how could he ever express that to him?

The two men sat on the window ledge for a while longer, just enjoying each other’s presence, alone under the night sky lit by the moon and stars.

A bit later, Erwin turned to Levi and said, “It’s getting late.”

Levi nodded, and they moved off of the ledge so they were standing in Erwin’s office again.

The warmth of the office was comforting, and for the first time in a while, Levi felt… content, like he could stay in this moment forever and be happy.

They were still standing by the open window, and Erwin’s words from earlier were still rushing through Levi’s mind. He needed to do something to show Erwin that he felt the same, that he understood everything Erwin told him while they were sitting on the window ledge.

A concerned expression came over Erwin’s face as he watched Levi and asked, “Is something wrong?”

The look on Levi’s face must have revealed his internal struggle, so he looked up at Erwin and tried his best to soften his expression.

“No,” Levi replied, and felt resolve wash over him. He knew what to do to show Erwin how much this night had meant to him, how much all of the nights in his office had meant to him.

Slowly, very slowly, Levi reached his hand out in front of him and took one of Erwin’s in his own. Levi could see Erwin’s surprise as the smooth skin of his hand ran over the slightly rougher texture of Erwin’s.

“Thank you,” Levi breathed, and he brought Erwin’s hand up to touch his face, “for tonight.”

Erwin stood in shock for a few moments, but then his face broke out into a beautiful smile as he moved his thumb to caress Levi’s cheek.

“You don’t have to thank me,” Erwin said, his voice almost a whisper. “I know.”

And Levi melted into Erwin’s touch. He closed his eyes in wonder of how he managed to find perhaps one of the only people in this world who could ever understand him. Erwin always knew what Levi needed, knew Levi’s mannerisms and expressions, and that was something truly special.

And Levi knew Erwin, too. Which is why, when Levi opened his eyes, he wasn’t surprised to see that Erwin had taken a few steps forwards, so they were almost chest-to-chest. Erwin still had his hand on Levi’s cheek, and he was looking at him like he was the only thing that ever mattered.

Levi didn’t want the moment to end. He needed it, and Erwin did, too, so the two men took one final step towards each other, and Levi looked up directly into Erwin’s eyes, knowing expectance and anticipation were written all over his face.

Erwin let out a breathy laugh in disbelief of what was happening, but utterly joyful that it was. He had been waiting for confirmation from Levi that expressing his feelings like this was okay, and Levi’s “Thank you” earlier was his way of saying, “I feel the same.” It was the confirmation that Erwin needed.

He stared back into Levi’s dark eyes, taking in all of his features—his sharp cheekbones, strong nose, the soft wisps of hair covering his forehead, and finally, his full lips.

Levi just watched as Erwin’s gaze settled on his mouth, feeling his heart rate increase even more.

Erwin took one final breath. “May I kiss you, Levi?”

Levi didn’t miss a beat.

“Yes,” he breathed.

And no sooner had the word left Levi’s mouth than Erwin’s lips were on his.

They kissed each other with equal fervor and passion, both of them feeling like they could never get enough. Levi had never felt so good in his entire life. The taste of Erwin’s mouth, his tongue—everything was overwhelming but better than Levi could have ever imagined.

He let himself become lost in Erwin’s embrace as the commander moved his hands up and down Levi’s back, eventually moving them to untuck Levi’s shirt from his pants so he could run his hands underneath it, along Levi’s bare skin.

Levi let Erwin’s hands go wherever they wanted, lost in the new feeling of pleasure. He tangled his hands in Erwin’s blonde hair, wondering at the softness.

Erwin’s hands eventually made it to the back of Levi’s thighs and he bent his knees, never parting his mouth from Levi’s. Levi felt himself being lifted off of the ground as he moaned and tightened his legs around Erwin’s waist.

Erwin carried Levi over to the couch that was set against the back wall of the office and set him down gently. Levi opened his eyes when he felt his back hit the soft cushions and saw Erwin on top of him, his usual immaculately styled hair now falling loose and disheveled around his forehead.

Erwin had called him beautiful, yes, but Levi couldn’t help but feel that Erwin was the one who was truly beautiful.

Erwin brushed Levi’s bangs out of his face and asked, “Is this still okay?”

In response, Levi brought his lips to Erwin’s once more, wrapping his legs around Erwin’s waist and his arms around Erwin’s neck.

“What do you think?” Levi replied when he took his mouth off of Erwin’s to catch his breath.

Erwin smiled. “I think you’re beautiful, and I think I am very lucky.”

Levi rolled his eyes out of habit, still not used to flattery. “Stop with that.”

Erwin laughed. “I’ll keep telling you every day until you accept it,” he said, and he bent down to kiss Levi sweetly on his mouth, on his neck, and when he pulled Levi’s shirt and pants off, he kissed him there, too.

Feeling Erwin all over him, feeling so utterly happy, Levi closed his eyes and imagined again that the world didn’t exist beyond Erwin’s office. He imagined that he could just stay there with him forever.

But Levi should have known better. He should have known that whatever he thought “forever” might be would actually be much shorter.

For a while it was nice. What Erwin and Levi had was something they both needed. Their nights in the office became nights they always spent together until morning, always visiting their spot on the window ledge.

It was at that spot with Levi’s head resting softly on Erwin’s shoulder, the moon their only witness, where Erwin whispered the three words that shattered Levi’s walls completely.

“I love you.”

Levi never said those exact words back, but he didn’t need to.

“Come back alive,” and “I’ll break your legs,” were only some of the ways Levi expressed just how much he cared about Erwin. Though many may not have realized what Levi meant behind those seemingly harsh words, Erwin understood.

And when the time came for Levi to utter the words he always hoped he’d never have to say, it was his final act of love.

“Give up on your dream and die.”

Levi watched for years as Erwin tirelessly chased after his dream of getting to the basement. Mission after mission, death after death, Levi could see the guilt begin to weigh heavy on Erwin’s shoulders. But still, he never wavered, never faltered from achieving his goal.

Levi didn’t want to accept it, but somewhere deep within himself, he knew that Erwin would die for his dream.

And when Erwin announced the expedition to reclaim Wall Maria, that feeling grew. With no arm and nothing but fierce determination, Levi knew that if Erwin left for this mission, he would not come back.

Levi watched as the Scouts were annihilated by the Beast Titan. He watched as his closest friends and allies gave their all to take back the land that was once theirs. And he watched Erwin as he came to his final decision.

Erwin was going to die, and Levi was going to let him.

Levi was going to release Erwin from the burden of being in charge of the group of people tasked with saving humanity. Levi was going to free him of the guilt he felt for all those who had fallen on missions he led. Levi was going to free him from the aftermath of whatever it was they would find in Eren Yeager’s basement. Levi was going to let Erwin rest, and finally be free.

“Give up on your dream and die.”

Erwin’s relieved little smile after Levi spoke those words was all the reassurance Levi needed to know for sure that he had made the right choice for his beloved commander.

And even when an opportunity to save Erwin presented itself, even when all Levi had to do was inject some Titan fluid into Erwin’s body and he’d have his commander and partner back, Levi thought back to Erwin’s smile, to the relief it looked like he felt at the prospect of death, and Levi made the same choice again. He’d let Erwin be free.

Levi considered himself to be a strong person, as did the people around him. They counted on Levi to be their fearless, unwavering captain. He had faced countless losses, immense heartbreak, yet nothing could really compare to how he felt after returning home to announce the success of the mission without Erwin by his side.

The worst part about it all was that it was hard to focus on the fact that Erwin was gone. Everything everyone thought they knew about the world, about humanity’s existence, had been flipped on its head. There was so much to process just with all of that.

But Erwin never left Levi’s mind. He didn’t cry for him, as that’s not the kind of person Levi was. Levi would, however, find himself staring into space a lot more. He’d think about what Erwin would’ve thought about everything they learned from Grisha Yeager. He’d think about how Erwin would’ve reacted to seeing the ocean for the first time.

The first thing that Levi thought of when he saw all of that blue water was that it reminded him of Erwin’s eyes.

Erwin’s office at Survey Corps headquarters had been vacant for a while after the Scouts returned from Wall Maria.

And Levi stands in there now.

This is his first time back since Erwin’s death. He couldn’t sleep, so he began to walk around outside. He found his legs taking him towards headquarters, and then to a room he used to be all too familiar with.

Some of Erwin’s papers are still resting on the wooden table where the two men used to sit side-by-side as they worked together. Levi picks one up, and smiles softly as he sees Erwin’s neat handwriting all over the page.

He puts the paper back on the table. Levi stands for a few moments, just taking in the solitude that Erwin’s empty office brings, before making his way over to the window.

Levi pushes it open and feels the night air rustle his hair. He climbs onto the ledge and sits down.

So many words had been spoken between them in this very spot. So many touches, whispers, moments that were just for them.

Levi looks up at the night sky, the moon full and bright, just like it was the first night the two of them sat on the window ledge together.

“I almost chose you,” Levi says. “Had to fight off both brats for even considering it,” he scoffs. “So much trouble.”

But Levi finds himself smiling despite everything. “I guess they’re our only hope now, though.”

He lets the pleasant breeze rustle his hair as he sits on the window ledge.

How foolish, Levi thinks. I’m talking to myself.

Levi sits on the ledge for a while longer. He looks up at the moon one last time.

“Thank you, Erwin,” he says into the night.

Levi swings his legs around so his feet are touching the carpet, walks across the floor, and shuts the door to Erwin’s office behind him for the last time.

[creacherkeeper]

Welcome to the tOH fandom!! What do you think of ADHD! Luz (and maybe Eda too!) and autistic!Amity (and maybe Lilith as well)?

thank you!! okay listen this show is so so good for ND headcanons WEIRDOS GOTTA STICK TOGETHER and im like *cries* yea 

adhd luz is great. i love it. she’s eager and never runs out of energy, strong emotions & very expressive, can definitely act immature for her age (i saw something saying she’s 14 but idk if thats canon?), has a hyperfixation on learning magic & her azura books. her inability to choose a magic track i would argue could be read as indecisiveness or decision paralysis. and sometimes her own feelings cause her to miss cues from others (like with eda, amity, & king at the carnival). even the way she has to learn magic works as a metaphor - the way other people learn doesnt work for her so she has to adapt and have accommodations (something to draw on). we also see a few instances that suggest she’s not good at reading how trustworthy people are 

im totally down for adhd eda but i think i like autistic eda better. she has unusual style (the ripped dress, big earrings, gold tooth - not to mention the times she puts on ‘human fashion’). her speaking voice is unusual too, but is often at a flat effect (absolutely not a dig at the actress i’ve had a crush on her since i was like 9). special interest in owls & weird human objects. learns differently & thinks outside the box, but is still extremely gifted as a witch, she just has to do things her own way. uneven motor skills - very powerful witch & good at sports but also like, just fumbles her staff all the time. seems to get along better with demons (king, hooty, and i’ll count owlbert here too) over other humanoids. did NOT fit in at school. has trouble connecting to and empathizing with people, often says rude things whether she means to or not. tends to show affection through gestures (training, making the cloak) over words or physical affection. does NOT understand why she should have to follow the rules (school, witchcraft, society at large) because they seem arbitrary to her 

also - not an nd headcanon and FAR from a perfect metaphor - but my chronically ill ass was just sitting there like 8O SHE HAS TO TAKE HER MEDS OR SHE’LL GO INTO A FLARE and i was just pretty excited about that 

jury is still out on lilith for me. i can see autistic lilith though. she’s got flat effect, dulled emotional expression, gifted in her craft, trouble seeing eda’s pov, seems to be low empathy, and from what we see may be fairly gullible. i need to see more screen time from her before i make it an Official Headcanon though. 100% up to hearing other peoples arguments about this 

amity is a little harder for me but here’s my headcanon (cw child abuse) 

she very well could be autistic. i didnt get a strong Vibe from her one way or the other. but her behavior, to me at least, seems to line up a lot more strongly with childhood trauma. specifically parental abuse. granted we haven’t seen much of her parents yet, but that’s the vibe i got and i’ll explain why 

amity is extremely driven and perfectionistic, but it does not seem like she’s self-motivated. it seems like she’s trying to live up to her parents high and strict expectations of her. she wants to be friends with willow, and then later luz, but she can only keep the friends her parents deem are worthy - theyre controlling of her social interactions far more than is normal. she has very low tolerance for her own mistakes, and gets extremely upset when she’s embarrassed or gets into trouble. to me that’s a thing a kid learns at home - mistakes are a big deal (and could be punished in some manner). she’s very awkward at trying to make real friends, which makes me think she doesnt have good role models & her emotional development was not prioritized. in the beginning we see her bully people and gee wonder where she learned that. when she’s training, it’s not her parents or even lilith who are training her - its her older siblings who she doesnt get along with and dont even seem to be on the same track as her? so even though expectations for her as a witch are extremely high, the actual adults are neglecting to help her 

when both lilith and eda cheat at the covention duel - amity doesn’t get upset at lilith. she gets upset at luz who is not an adult and is an easy target. lilith and eda are really the ones that embarrassed her, but she doesn’t feel she can get angry at either of them and takes out her emotions lower in the pecking order. we also see that she quit grudgby forever because she accidentally hurt her teammates - which makes me think her anxiety & guilt in general is pretty high. when she does decide luz is cool, she gets Very Attached Very Fast which can definitely be a trauma thing - here is a Safe Person i am now incredibly invested in. when they go into willow’s memories, she’ll do anything to keep luz from seeing how she hurt willow, probably because she’s afraid luz will be disappointed in her (and what? abandon her for not being perfect?) and even her parents in the memory are just shadowy figures and not real people. her biggest fear (which, yes cute gay stuff was happening) is being rejected, which makes me think besides the grom there is an actual threat of that in her life

so ALL IN ALL yes some of these things overlap with autism & i definitely wouldnt argue against an autism headcanon, but to me this just is so strongly childhood trauma stuff that i personally wouldnt hc autism until i know more 

also LITERALLY ALL THE CHARACTERS ARE ND thank you for coming to my ted talk good day 

[anakinfallen09]

A Starless Galaxy:

“ — If I could... I would thrust my saber through that monster's chest...”

She had grown listening to those words, the monster, the monster that had been Darth Vader, and his treason to the Jedi Order, and everything her master once believed.

“— If I could go back...”

He would often say, gritting his teeth, producing such a horrible sound that would still haunt her 'till this day... He had always been so kind, always smiling, would scold her softly if she ever made any mistake, but still... Her master had so much hate against him, the monster... Darth Vader, although he wouldn't always call him like that, he would often call him by the name he once had... She would later find out her master had died by the hands of that same monster, and she still had her Padawan braid... Even though having such was a dead sentence in the Empire... She thought that if she had the opportunity? She would grant her master's wish... If she ever came face to face with Darth Vader... She would thrust her saber through his chest...

Obi-wan was walking through The Room of a Thousand Fountains, in way to reunite with his former Padawan, he still had problems to believe it had been already a week that Anakin had been knighted, it wasn't that the brash, reckless young man didn't deserved such, and indeed, Anakin had done a lot of progress since the very first day he had been brought here, Obi-wan stopped for a moment, reminiscing about those first few years... He had been completely broken about Qui-Gon's death, but he had promised his master, and then he had promised Anakin, so after Qui-gon's funeral, he had gone to the Council, to ask for Anakin as his Padawan, he had been knighted after all, he could do such a thing, the council took his request with a grain of salt, but at the end they finally Accepted, all but one, Master Alarrha Lhev, who looked quite alarmed, the young looking, Echani woman, a Force empath, who was also one of the biggest duelist amongst the Jedi, and who also taught master Soara Antana, one of the most virtuous duelist amongst the Jedi and who was a duelist instructor for the youngest generations, while master Alarrha didn't as much as specialized in duel anymore, she was known to be a great force empath who oftentimes helped mind healers in the temple, the Echani rose to her feet, her long silver hair moving away from her left shoulder where it was resting.

— Are we really going to do this?? Handing a barely Knighted CHILD, the responsibility of raising another child!?

She exclaimed with a heavy accent, that the years hadn't been able to take away from her, Obi-wan flinched minutely, if there was someone who had a word about young's being mentally fit for being Padawans, was her, if she said Anakin wasn't fit, the Council would listen to her...

— Knight Kenobi is certainly capable of taking Skywalker as his Padawan.

Master Windu suddenly said, looking straight into the Echani, who didn't looked intimidated in the absolute by Master Windu's stern look, which she counteracted with one of her own.

— I am not doubting of knight Kenobi's capabilities, Master Windu, please do not interrupt me before listening...

She said sternly, and even Grand Master Yoda hit the tiled floor of the council chamber with his gimer stick.

— Listen to what Master Lhev, we must

And with that the council chamber became silent, cold dread dripped down Obi-wan's spine.

— Like I did said before, I do not doubt of your capabilities Knight Kenobi, but let us be honest, young Skywalker it is not a simple crècheling youth, raised within the Jedi order from a young age, like most of us have... Master Yoda has said so before, he felt such fear in the young boy, and I do so, too, he does not only has fear within him, but the attachment proper of a boy raised by his biological Family, let's remember that most of us, were brought to the temple at a younger age than Skywalker, and we lived our lives in the safety of the crèche, before being taken as padawans by our own Masters, he lived in the world out there, in less than good conditions, he was a slave, and that does taints a soul and a mind like few things can...

The council stayed silent when Master Alarrha stoped speaking, Obi-wan was completely mute, and although he hadn't been there when Qui-gon found anakin, he could barely imagine life away from the temple, as he had lived during childhood, let alone the life of a slave.

— Your suggestion what it would, Master Lhev?

Grand Master Yoda finally said, and Obi-wan didn't wanted to think about the possibilities.

— Knight Kenobi is to train young Skywalker, but I am to heal his mind and help him develop in this new ambient he is presented with, it is not that he should cut down his past and mold to what we need, let's try to help instead, after all, that is what we Jedi are supposed to do in the first place...

Obi-wan let go of the breath he hadn't realized he was holding, he would be able to train Anakin, he would fulfill the promises he had done to both, his master and Anakin.

It wasn't easy at first, Anakin was too terrorized about talking with Alarrha, Thinking that maybe if he showed any kind of weakness, he would soon be expelled from the order, it wouldn't help manners that every time Anakin succumbed to bouts of strong emotions Mace Windu would look down at him and scowl as if it was the most unforgivable sin on earth... But Master Alarrha managed to break down that hard shell in which Anakin had secluded himself, with Obi-wan's help they tackled that ever present fear of the child... But it still was a long way.

[someoneyoucantstand]

Of Security in Memories

So I couldn’t get the new love of my life and the way he protected Squirrel out of my mind so I wrote this. (Also found on Ao3 if you could give it some love over there too)

OF SECURITY IN MEMORIES

He remembers vaguely that, in his previous life time, he had only ridden a horse a mere two times. Ash people had very little need for steed to the degree he’d imagine other clans had; they lived high up in the mountains, towering over towns and villages in private isolation. They had the freshest of water, collected from the beginning of the slipsteams at the top of the mountains so close to their homes, had caves to keep their slaughter from escaping, and could source warming sunlight for their own grains, meaning that only but a handful of men needed to be riders in order to journey to neighbouring towns for a renewal of medical supplies and some seedlings if the yield was less than expecting.

Nevertheless, the children of the ash folk took pleasure in trotting around the village on the large beasts, taking turns to ride or run alongside the animal, with an elder brother or doting mother leading the horse at a steady pace with a rope attached to its head reins.

The first experience he’d had on a horse was surrounded with humiliation, and was banished to the back of his mind with or without the teaching of the bible to cloud his memories. He had been young, maybe five or six years, when an older boy - whose face remained foggy on the rare occasion he thought back to his life before the brotherhood, preventing him from truly recalling who he was - had clapped him on the shoulder, declaring that it was his turn on the horse, before gripping him under the pits of his arms and hoisting him into the air and onto the leather saddle with a thump.

He had never been that high up before, and distracted himself with the view of his home from such a towering height. It was this distraction that left him vulnerable when suddenly the horse lurched forward without warning, leaving little time to steady himself and grip the reins, and instead left him toppling to the side and straight into the dirt.

The only vivid part of that memory was the chorus of laughter that erupted from his peers when he landed harshly on his arm, his cheek grazing the ground below. He remembered the horse stopping abruptly and the older boy's feet charging around him, pulling him to his own feet and brushing the mud from his trousers as he inspected for injury. The children laughed on heartedly, as if it was the most humorous thing they had witnessed in some time, and the older boy in front of him gave him non-injured cheek a warm tap before berating the children for their foolish laughter. Still, it was too late and he was already red in the face with embarrassment and vowed never to get back on such a foul creature.

Despite years of training and conditioning to the teachings of the Red Paladins, there is still one memory from his childhood he can recall as clear as a summer’s sky.

He had aged on in some years and was now possibly eight or nine years, but no more than that. True to his vow, he had never rode the horses again and had even avoided partaking in the chase behind the animal the other children led whilst waiting for their turn.

On this morning, however, the children were granted the opportunity to play on a new horse their village had taken in only weeks prior.

A tanned horse with a mane of black hair that looked as if to be shimmering in the spring sunlight; it was the finest creature he had ever seen in his small amount of years. Because of this, even he, who had sworn off the breed all those years prior, found himself trailing after the children to watch it in action. He recollects following the steed all morning and into the afternoon, watching its majestic legs prance around as children squealed with delight from atop its back. When children began being called back into their homes to complete this chore or that, the elder girl in charge began leading the horse back to the stable. He frowned at having to leave the horse, and went to retreat back to his mother - or what family he may have had; he had long forgotten aspects of such nature - when a familiar hand clapped his shoulder and steered him towards the girl.

“Rosalind,” the voice behind him spoke, “let me tie him back up for you, I would quite like to test his pace myself before he goes for his rest.”

The girl - Rosalind - had nodded and passed the horse over to the boy without question. She left and the boy with the face blocked by fogged memories crouched in front of him.

“Lance,” he spoke softly, “might we try you once more on horseback?” He imagined he must have nodded because the boy sprung upwards and mounted the horse with such elegance. A hand was extended down to him and he gripped it - it was soft, and warm, and felt so familiar in the back of his condemned mind - as he was lugged upwards and into saddle.

Like those years previous, he became distracted once more. This time it was not by the height advantage, but by the wonderful mane in front of him. He reached a single finger out to touch it, swapping to a whole hand once pleasantly surprised by the silky texture as he stroked it gently. Once again, the horse began swift movement without his knowledge, jolting him to the side, his body reddle to topple.

This time, however, he was met not with the roughness of the harsh ground below, but instead, a warm and strong weight wrapped around his stomach.

“Steady now, Lancelot.” A voice said close to his ear as the boy pressed to his back held him securely on the saddle. His chest heaved with slight panic as he looked down and, indeed, saw the boy’s arm embracing him, hand splayed across his stomach to keep him in place. He looked back and saw the boy grinning at him, tightening his arm for a moment in a sincere squeeze before relaxing and ripping the reins once again, “I have you, Lance. No need to fear.”

The memory stayed with him for all the passing years, he assumes, because it was the last time that he felt such a strong sense of security before a brotherhood of men donning red cloaks attacked at dawn some weeks later, burning his entire tribe and snatching him away until the pretence of redemption and messages from God.

Of course, one of the first things the Red Paladins did was make sure he knew how to ride a horse, for what good is a warrior that cannot lead his men into battle? It had been a slow process, one that was littered with bruised ribs from the swift kicks delivered to his chest whenever he panicked and took a fall, but in the end he rode with great talent and no longer feared he would take a tumble.

Still, he never felt that same sense of safety and security on horseback like he did back in that last moment of his childhood.

Until now, that is, in the present moment, when suddenly that memory of security returns to him abruptly, this time from the other perspective.

Feeling the burn of his injuries, he had been quite content with resting slightly on the back of the young fey in front of him, his arms reaching around him to lightly hold the reins, entrusting his trusty steed to get them to safety. He gave little thought to his charge and their riding skills, instead letting his mind be consumed by the transpiring events and the hot rush in his side that squelched with his own blood, until his horse tread over a particularly rocky part of path that left his charge unstable and falling to the side, ready to topple.

The child let out a cry of alarm and, instinctively, he surged forward and wrapped his arm around his small waist, pulling him into his chest, ignoring the flash of pain it sent up his injured side.

He breathed out a sigh of relief at the feeling of the child’s weight against his body, his bloody hand now being gripped by a smaller one. He felt that hand against his and thought back to the soft and warm hand that helped him onto his horse when he was no bigger than this child in his arms. This memory seemed to work of its own will, subconsciously leading to him presenting the child with the same sincere squeeze around the waist that he had been gifted a long time ago.

“What is your name, boy?” he had asked as they crossed the wastelands.

“Squirrel”, had been the reply and he couldn’t help but point out that “a squirrel is an animal. What name were you given?”

The child had not hesitated to say that “I don’t like that name,” but when met with the reply of “It’s still your name,” had presented the answer of “Fine. It’s Percival.”

“Percival.” He had replied in confirmation, but had not planned to speak the name again, instead wanting to keep as much emotional distance as he could.

And yet, as the child - Percival - sat himself straight again, he - “Lancelot”, he had to remind himself, for it had been so long, “my name is Lancelot.” - found that he couldn’t help himself, couldn’t relax completely.

Instead, Lancelot moved his hand just enough that he could reach to hold a rein in each without actually having to let go. He could still feel the heavy breathing of Percival, a mirror of his own such a long time ago, and chose instead to keep his arm loosely embracing him, his hand resting against his stomach similar to how a hand one once did for him, hoping to convey the same warmth and strength that had given him the security to feel safe enough to breathe again.

“I have you, Percival. No need to fear.”

[dudeandduchess]

HGW, Day 7: Forbidden Love | Giyuu x F!S/O [NSFW]

NOTE: Hey hey, bbys! Finally, I finished this. Ahhh. I finished HGW! Albeit I was a day late but better late than never, amirite? Ahaha. Hope you guys enjoyed Hurt Giyuu Week as much as I did.

Stay tuned for Infinite Feels Train Week. Lmao.

***

Warning: Angst with Happy Ending, Fluff, Smut, Vaginal Sex, Fingering, Creampie, Wall Sex, Mentions of a Breeding Kink, Choking Word Count: 3,456

Once (Y/n) had been stowed within a blanket, with her head firmly attached onto her unconscious body, the three Hashira had set on back to the Ubuyashiki estate to settle things.

They had called for an emergency meeting, which was received and accepted promptly by Oyakata-sama himself; so it stood to reason why Giyuu felt so breathless and weak.

He had knowingly gone against the rules that were ingrained into him from a young age; he knew that he should have been ashamed of himself and what he had done, but he couldn’t find it in him to regret his actions. He felt so breathless and weak not because he was sorry, but because his conscience harped at him so heavily about not feeling guilty.

A trial had been held to judge him for his crimes, but the end judgment had ruled out for the best— with Oyakata-sama’s kind consideration.

Had he not interfered on Giyuu’s behalf, (Y/n) would have been long dead; and Giyuu would have followed with the same fate as well.

But Kagaya had brought up the Water Hashira’s years of service to the Slayer Corps, as well as the fact that (Y/n) had never killed a human being before, so it served to back Giyuu up from his comrades’ harsh verdicts.

The Ubuyashiki patriarch also recounted the story of how (Y/n) was someone extremely important from Giyuu’s childhood, as told to him by the young man himself, which helped curb some of the anger directed towards him for his betrayal.

However, the fact remained that he had still committed treachery and that he needed to face the consequences of his actions.

And so, that was how he had ended up being saddled with more missions. On top of that, his pay was also going to be halved for three months; and (Y/n) was going to stay at the Butterfly estate— inside a shed that was surrounded by wisteria trees— as a prisoner.

It was either that, or be sent to Fujikasane to serve as prey for incoming Slayers. So Giyuu immediately acquiesced to the plan where (Y/n) was a prisoner, as it was better to have her be trapped and alive, rather than be hunted down— or worse, dead.

And so, the days where Giyuu frequently visited the Butterfly Mansion began.

He wasn’t allowed to go anywhere near (Y/n), especially without supervision from another Hashira, as there was no guarantee that Giyuu wouldn’t break her out of her prison if given the opportunity. So he made do with standing atop the estate’s eastern fence to gaze longingly at (Y/n).

Once a week the Water Hashira would take some time out of his busy schedule to check up on her; and he was just thankful that Shinobu granted him some privacy— at the very least— during his visits.

Her aura would hang around the area heavily, and Giyuu would always feel eyes on the back of his head, but not once did anyone try to make him go away.

All for good reason, as (Y/n)’s agitation would grow nonexistent when she could feel his presence; thus putting the entire Butterfly Estate at ease, even if only for an hour.

She knew that she had it easier than most demons, as she was actually left alive, but that didn’t diminish the irritation she felt at being trapped like an animal.

Due to the lack of any human contact, she settled for reading the tomes that Shinobu had been gracious enough to lend her. Most of them were medical books, but she didn’t care; as long as it kept her busy, then she would read them from cover to cover.

Still, reading couldn’t dull out the hunger pangs she felt. She wasn’t really hungry, as she could never feel hunger again, but more like extremely tempted; as the scent of humans permeated her senses over the smell of the wisteria flowers that surrounded her little shed.

Yet she had no choice other than to endure; because becoming a demon— though involuntary— was the card she had been dealt, and she had to wait… just until Giyuu found a cure for her.

She had to be strong, even though her heart yearned for her lover’s touch once more.

***

“I’m willing to compromise, Kochō. Just let me…” Giyuu’s eyebrows knitted together in ill-concealed frustration, before smoothing out when he sighed heavily. “Please let me give this to her. At the very least, let me see her up close.”

Then, in a much quieter tone, the young man added, “Please. I need to see if she’s fine.”

His eyes flitted back down to the blue spider lily in his right hand. The moment he’d seen it while on Mount Yoko— to assess the overall state of the resources on the mountain, as was part of his punishment— his mind had immediately gone back to (Y/n) and how she would adore such a strange colored flower.

So he’d picked it up from the cluster it had been in, and carefully held on to it while on the way to the Butterfly Estate.

Shinobu felt a pang in her chest at that; maybe it was pity, she wasn’t too sure, but she found herself sympathizing with her fellow Hashira. If it were her in Giyuu’s position, she would want to know how her loved one was faring along, as well.

The worst that could happen was that he would break (Y/n) out of her prison. But really, the demoness wouldn’t even be able to make it past the wisteria trees before she perished. Not with all the wisteria-laced traps Shinobu had put in place; which she knew that the Water Hashira knew well about.

The desperation in Giyuu’s eyes were evident; it was the first time that she had ever seen such an expression cross his features. So, even if she was on the fence about it, the Insect Hashira still found herself sighing and nodding her assent.

If it were her in his position, she would have done everything possible to be as close as possible to the one she loved.

“You have until sunrise to spend with her.”

Giyuu was surprised at that answer; not only because he had already begun to formulate a crafty plan to sneak in to (Y/n)’s makeshift prison, but also because never had he thought that someone would understand him to the point of sympathizing with him.

It was a first; especially since it was him and Shinobu that were involved.

Still, he didn’t miss another second after that. He merely nodded at her, before breaking into a sprint for the shed that was tucked away within the estate’s grounds. He easily bypassed all of the traps without setting them off— as he knew that that would only serve to piss his comrade off.

(Y/n) sensed him nearing before she smelled his familiar scent; and her heart immediately thrummed with the overwhelming feeling of elation and fear coursing through her. She had known the stipulations of her confinement, and him coming towards her could have only meant that he was going to break the agreement.

Still, she could do nothing but wait in anticipation for him to open the door.

And when he did, Giyuu was immediately wrapped up in a tight hug. He hadn’t even closed the door fully when she jumped at him.

No words were exchanged between them as he returned her embrace, and pressed his lips against the crown of her head. Then slowly, he began to pepper her hair with the kisses he’d long since wanted to bestow upon her.

His heart felt so full of love for her, that he couldn’t hold back the numerous tears that began to roll down his cheeks. He then held her closer to him, if only to feel if she was actually real, which caused a sob to break free from his lips.

At that, (Y/n) pulled away from him— holding him at arms’ length— and ducked down to see his face, as he had turned to look down at the floor; in order to hide his shameful tears from the woman in front of him.

A sad smile lifted the corners of the young woman’s lips, before she cupped her lover’s cheeks in her hands and pulled him down so that their foreheads were pressed together.

With him she could control the unbridled thirst inside her; and for him she would try to control it— even if it took her lifetimes to do so. Because she knew that, no matter how sweet Giyuu’s promises to her were, they were nothing but pipe dreams.

The only solution she knew to cure her was to kill Muzan himself; which would also kill her, in turn.

Gently, she began to press her lips against his— first in tentative, fluttering touches that left her already breathless with sheer happiness.  Then, she took in a deep breath and licked her bottom lip, before tilting her head to the side and fusing their mouths together in a deep kiss.

The action seemed to rouse Giyuu from his tear-laden reaction to seeing her again. He responded to her kisses, moving his mouth pliantly with hers, while his right hand lifted itself up and cradled the back of her head.

His thumb and middle finger squeezed the base of her skull gently— a long-established signal for her to open her mouth for him— which she wholeheartedly complied to.

Giyuu then slipped his tongue into his lover’s mouth; tasting her sweetness after so long. He groaned against her, before moving on to bite her bottom lip.

However, instead of taking things further, he pulled away from her— lightly tugging at her lip along the way— and rose up to his full height.

Tears still stained his cheeks, but his eyes were brighter; much more radiant with the lust and excitement that bubbled up inside him. And that made a gentle smile touch upon (Y/n)’s lips.

His answering smile was faint, but she didn’t mind. She knew the full extent of his happiness, because it mirrored hers. They didn’t need to validate their emotions with words; they just felt it, just like how they felt the storms in themselves quieted down when they were together.

They had a connection that most people could only ever dream of.

“I brought you something,” Giyuu began softly, then held up the blue Spider Lily that had been in his left hand the whole time.

(Y/n) felt something incessantly knocking inside her head; like a memory that she had long suppressed. It was trying to break out of the thought space she had put it into, but she refused to let it free; as that thought space was kept locked tight because they were all somehow related to Muzan.

Gingerly, she accepted the flower and cast a full-blown grin at her lover. “It’s very pretty. It reminds me of your eyes. Thank you.”

The grin served to knock the breath out of the Water Hashira, and he had to struggle with trying to maintain his composure, as he made a conscious effort to not take her in his arms and kiss her senseless.

(Y/n) didn’t make things any easier for him, however, as she got up on her toes and pressed another kiss to his lips in a show of her gratitude. She then sashayed away from him, while he lifted his hands up and wiped the tear tracks off of his cheeks.

Still, his eyes never left her as she moved around the sizeable room with ease. It seemed to have been a guest house before being turned into (Y/n)’s prison, which further eased Giyuu’s worries of her having unsavory living conditions.

She took a chipped cup of tea from inside her bedside drawer, then filled it up with some water from the water basin inside the small bathroom.

When she returned back to the main room, she set the cup down on top of her bedside drawer and set the flower in the water. It kept tipping over, however, so she propped it up against the wall with a quiet huff of irritation.

The chuckle bubbled out from Giyuu’s lips before he knew it, as his expression softened into one of sheer love and admiration for her. And slowly, he closed the distance between them to move her hair to her right shoulder, before lavishing open-mouthed kisses along the soft skin of her neck.

Instead of shying away from her lover’s touch, however, (Y/n) practically melted against him. She rocked back on her heels and pressed her back against his warm, clothed chest.

Giyuu set his hands on either side of her waist, kneading gently before letting the right one snake towards her center. His fingers then pressed against her cunt through the smooth fabric of her yukata, before rubbing her clit in circles. It still amazed her how well Giyuu knew her body, as he could always map out her pleasure zones without much effort.

But that was beside the point at that moment, because a pleasured moan cut through her thoughts. It reverberated off the walls with how quiet their surroundings were, but that only served to make Giyuu’s cock harder in his pants.

His left hand moved to untie her obi— successfully loosening the bindings— only to give up on it when actually unravelling it proved to be a challenge. Out of sheer frustration, he tugged at the ties to loosen them as much as possible, until the front of his lover’s outfit fell open to reveal her naked breasts.

She also wasn’t wearing any underwear, which was highly arousing; but if he didn’t know any better, he would say that she had been anticipating his visit. Her readiness reminded him so much of all the times when she would wait up for him on that mountain, completely bare as she fingered herself to thoughts of him.

He had walked in on her too many times to count, but each and every time was more pleasurable than the last; as they would try out new positions and kinks that Giyuu picked up during his travels.

His favorite was cockwarming, but he was too impatient for it at that moment. He just wanted to savor the taste and feel of her body while he could. Besides, he didn’t have enough time to fill her up with his cum until she got pregnant from it— if that was even possible— as much as he wanted to.

But he wanted to breed her, bad.

He continued lavishing her neck with kisses and love bites, even though the bruises disappeared the moment his lips unlatched themselves from her skin. It still made Giyuu so hot to see that, even for a moment, he could mark her as his; in a way that he couldn’t when they had been apart.

“I’m already so wet, Giyuu. Please,” (Y/n) mewled through needy pants, only to cry out when he slipped his hand beneath the slit of her yukata and ran the tip of his index finger along her wet slit. He then flicked her clit repeatedly, which made her knees shake with so much pleasure that her hands flew to both of his arms to hold on to something.

“Not yet. Not until you cum,” The Hashira whispered against her neck, before biting down on the supple skin and leaving a bright red set of teeth marks— which faded away after a few seconds.

The young demoness gripped tighter onto her lover’s arms, trying to find purchase as he delved his fingers further into her cunt and slipped two fingers inside of her.

Giyuu scissored his digits inside (Y/n)’s tight walls, trying to loosen her up for his cock, as it had been quite some time since they’d last had sex. Demon or not, he didn’t want to cause her any pain.

When he began moving his hand, however, she had to bite down on her bottom lip to keep from letting everyone within the Butterfly Estate know just how amazing Giyuu’s fingers felt inside her. As it was, she already knew that Shinobu knew what they were up to; but she really couldn’t care less.

While he was pumping his fingers inside her, Giyuu moved his left hand up to encircle (Y/n)’s neck. He moved his lips up to her ear, just resting there and nibbling on the shell of it every so often; while his hand squeezed her neck gently until her breath hitched in her throat.

Her pulse thrummed so frantically beneath his fingers, that he couldn’t help but get lost at the pleasurable thought that he could still make her heart race like he did at that moment.

“I want you to cum around my fingers, before I let you cum around my cock,” He stated quietly, before increasing the pace of his hand’s thrusts.

(Y/n) was reduced to nothing more than a moaning and quivering mess as her orgasm rocked through her. Her knees felt so shaky that she was afraid of accidentally falling, but she was also confident in the fact that Giyuu wouldn’t let that happen; so she surrendered herself to him.

Giyuu smirked at that. “Good girl.”

He then loosened his old upon her neck, and pulled his fingers out of her— only to bring the digits up to his mouth and suck them clean— before making her bend over with her hands against the wall in front of her.

The Hashira made quick work of his belt and pants; unfastening and unzipping, before tossing his sword onto the bed right next to them. And when he pulled his cock out, the groan that left his lips was so pained and needy that it made (Y/n) even wetter.

She could only wait in anticipation, as her lover bunched the hem of her yukata up to her waist, before lining himself up to her sopping entrance.

As much as he wanted to bury himself to the hilt in one thrust, Giyuu took his time and gently eased his cock inside (Y/n). He thrusted lightly to help take some of his edge off, and moaned so deliciously when he managed to bury his dick all the way to the hilt.

His first few thrusts after that were slow and gentle; trying to establish a good rhythm. And when he did manage to find a good pace and angle to thrust, he gripped her hips tightly to keep her from getting lifted off the ground with how rough he was being.

Still, despite his effort to keep her grounded, her feet still bounced off the floor with every other thrust. She had also resorted to bowing her head and biting her tongue to keep from screaming out in pleasure, because sex with Giyuu felt so amazing; like it always did.

“I want you to fill me up with your warm cum, Giyuu. Please, I need it,” The young woman pleaded breathlessly, then resumed biting down on her tongue when the Hashira’s thrusts grew more frenzied to the point of being borderline sloppy.

But she didn’t care about his technique; not when her legs were shaking with the pleasure that another imminent orgasm entailed.

Giyuu felt (Y/n)’s walls begin to pulse around him, which had him trying to chase his own orgasm quicker. His grip on her waist tightened even more, as he reveled in the feeling of his own peak starting to draw nearer.

And when it came crashing down upon him, his hips snapped jerkily, as he tried to push his cock as deep into (Y/n) as it could go. He knew that the chances of her getting pregnant were little to none, but his libido flared up even more at the thought of having her carry his child.

Thick ropes of his cum shot out of him in spurts, filling (Y/n) to the brim and triggering her own release.

She felt her pussy clench down on Giyuu’s cock, as her lower abdomen clenched tightly at her orgasm. Pleasure flooded her senses once more, which caused the tight reign she had on her concealed thought space to loosen enough for a memory to play through the momentary lapse in her control.

Completely breathless and spent, she leaned most of her weight onto her hands— which were still flush against the wall— before casting a glance at the blue spider lily that had fallen out of the makeshift vase that she had put it in.

She wasn’t sure about it, but she felt like she had the cure to her demonism.

[feynavaley]

What do you think about the slavic siblings? Their personalities and relations to each other?

Wow, that’s one loaded question! 😅 I’ll try to answer, but I’m not sure I’ll be able to in a satisfactory way.

First of all, a premise: like I have said in regard to other characters, the Slavic siblings aren’t among my favourite characters so I don’t have such a solid and well-analysed characterization for them as I do for others (chiefly, the FACE family members). Moreover, they’re quite complex characters and they appear a lot in canon which means that, without focusing specifically on them, it’s easy for me to have missed something. Nevertheless, I can try to give a brief answer (just touching what I think are some core aspects of their personalities) to the best of my abilities.

Ukraine

I’m starting with her because she sounds like the easiest one to pin down. She’s stabler than her siblings, at least. I see her as a woman who witnessed a lot of suffering during her childhood and had to mature quite fast because of it – but, instead of becoming jaded, she turned her suffering into empathy and compassion. Knowing so well what suffering means and how it can damage people, she does her best to always treat others with kindness and patience, to give them a chance to get better before writing them off as ‘bad people’. She has seen what violence does and she wants to break the cycle.

Her compassion makes her very motherly, too. Once she gets fond of people, she actively looks after them and their well-being. She’s the kind of person who is at her happiest when she sees the people around her happy. She thinks more about others than about herself – but not because she values herself little or because she has low self-esteem, it’s because she thrives in helping other people. She’s mostly happy with herself and wants to externalize this happiness, to see other people reach this level of satisfaction as well.

People can see her as weak because she isn’t loud, she has a tendency of being quite emotional, and she doesn’t assert herself unless it’s truly needed. She’s the kind of person who prefers to smooth things down instead of being stubborn. Yet, she can also be very firm when she wants to. In particular, I can see her being very protective of her family members.

Russia

Oh, where do I even start about him... he’s such a complex character that I really am not sure of how I see his characterization. I’ve seen many different takes and I found myself agreeing with and enjoying wildly different ones.

The thing about Russia is that I see him as a living, walking contradiction. The fandom is past the days when he was simply dismissed as ‘cruel’ or ‘evil’ and now tends to acknowledge his loneliness, the suffering he had to endure during childhood, and the wish he often expresses to get closer to other people. However, he also undeniably shows a cruel side at times. I can fully acknowledge that this may come from the fact he was subjected to so much violence that he ended up internalizing it as an acceptable way to behave, but this doesn’t change the facts. He doesn’t seem to care too much about hurting other people as long as he reaches his goal. I think both aspects of his character needs to be acknowledged. This duality is part of him.

The impression I ultimately got from Russia is that he’s an extremely self-serving person. He does care about other people, but only in relation to himself. If he’s nice to someone, it isn’t because he genuinely wants the well-being of that person but because he wants what that gesture brings to him: that person’s gratitude and potential friendship. I also think he can get to genuinely care about people (his family, for example) and, in this case, be upset if something happens to them because they are suffering and, conversely, try to make them happy not only because it would make them more well-disposed towards him but also because he just wants them to be. However, this is limited to a small circle of people. When anybody else is involved, I have the impression he just doesn’t care. Not that he would hurt them out of nowhere, but he wouldn’t see it as a problem if he needed to in order to get something he wanted. I don’t think he would enjoy it – but he wouldn’t regret it too much, either. Likewise, he wouldn’t stop to help them unless there was something in for him as well. It’s almost as if he didn’t actually have a sense of morality and of what’s wrong or right. He just takes what he wants and cares when he wants to. Almost like the way a child reasons.

Belarus

Belarus is another mystery, as far as I’m concerned. Like Russia, she seems to carry the scars of a harsh childhood. She’s determined and strong-willed, always working hard and doing her best to get what she wants, but also pessimistic and carrying frankness to the point of rudeness; she doesn’t seem to care at all about people outside from a few selected ones. Personally, I see this as the sign of a person who has suffered much and is trying to protect herself from further suffering by distancing herself from anything that could become a weakness. Moreover, I read her as one of those people who use the strength of will they developed to overcome their trials as a way to scorn people who didn’t manage to find the same strength. In other words, Belarus feels justified to hold in contempt ‘weaker’ people because by enduring what she did, she proved it’s possible to do so. Those who don’t manage just don’t try hard enough, in her opinion. They don’t deserve compassion. Just like her, they must bear their suffering alone. (This is why she’s always so blunt, too. She doesn’t see the point in softening the blow. If people can’t take the truth, they’re weaklings. They need to learn to do so.)

At the same time, Belarus isn’t a loner – from her interactions with Russia and briefly America, it almost looks like she needs to attach herself to somebody. And once she has found this person, her attachment and devotion reach unhealthy levels. Once again, this may be a result of her trauma. Maybe, having witnessed so much suffering makes her fear the same could happen to those few she cares about and she goes overboard trying to protect them. Or maybe, she feels lost without somebody ‘leading’ her. She spends so much energy building a wall around herself (to protect herself) that she has never had the time to figure out who she wants to be. She ends up dedicating herself fully to somebody because without that, she’d be nothing. She needs external validation and inputs to thrive. It may also be something else, or a mixture of things. As I said, Belarus is a character I have an extremely hard time pinning down.

The Three Siblings

Regarding the interactions of those three siblings as family, instead, I have to say that their familial unit looks almost healthier than the single individuals as it’s somehow adjusted around their flaws.

The one who brings everybody together is Ukraine. As I have already said, her big heart and maternal tendencies mean that she cares immensely for her siblings. She’s able to excuse their flaws because she sees where they come from and at the same time, she genuinely loves them. She wants the best for them; to see them thrive and at the same time, to be part of their lives. She’s the one who constantly checks on everybody and keeps suggesting they hang out together. She’s extremely protective if somebody hurts them, too.

Russia loves Ukraine deeply, of course. How could he not, when she offers him exactly what he yearns the most, affection and warmth? But it isn’t only this. I think Ukraine belongs to those few people Russia genuinely cares about. He mostly lets her do her own thing because he knows she’s capable enough, but he’s also very protective of her. Hurt Ukraine, and you’re dead. No questions asked.

Belarus cares for Ukraine just as much. She also often criticizes her sister, though. Ukraine is one of those people Belarus would consider ‘too weak’ due to her soft-hearted nature. However, Belarus also knows Ukraine too well to dismiss the strength her sister hides behind her kind nature. Belarus begrudgingly respects Ukraine. Moreover, for how much she doesn’t like to admit it, even Belarus is touched by how much Ukraine cares for her and treasures it deeply. Belarus is also very protective of Ukraine and may even be willing to behave a bit better if her sister is present.

In regard to the relationship between Russia and Belarus, instead... Two people with such baggage aren’t a good starting point for a healthy relationship. If we look at canon, the one between them isn’t.

Now, I want to spend a few words on Belarus’s ‘obsession’ towards Russia. I think her attachment stems from both the familial bond they have and her admiration for Russia’s strength; with her bleak outlook, she wants to associate with strong people. And, as I’ve said before, completely devote herself to him. About the ‘marriage’ thing, though – personally, I don’t think there’s a romantic feeling involved. The way I see it, what nations call ‘marriage’ isn’t actually a wedding but a mere political union, a contract. One that grants a personification some rights over another one, basically. There’s nothing about it that is like a human wedding, it’s mutually understood that no kind of feelings (or romantic/sexual relationship between the two parts) is involved. This is why even blood-related siblings can ‘marry’. So, Belarus wants to ‘marry’ Russia because this would be the best way to serve and protect him – both by being always by his side and by ‘rescuing’ him from other unions that could not be as favourable for Russia. Of course, she goes about it completely the wrong way, but all Belarus wants is to protect Russia and to be acknowledged by him as his ally and useful subject.

We know from canon, however, that Russia doesn’t answer well to Belarus’s obsession. He’s creeped out and annoyed by her. Still, I don’t think he hates her. He’s almost like an older sibling who doesn’t have patience for the younger ones. But deep down, he still cares for Belarus because she’s his – his sister and his family. He probably doesn’t enjoy Belarus’s company as much as he enjoys Ukraine’s, but that’s because of the way she behaves. If Belarus were a bit less obsessive, Russia would tolerate her better. He also isn’t so overtly protective of Belarus as he is of Ukraine, but this is because Belarus is more than capable of defending herself (and unlike Ukraine, she doesn’t let anything slide). I think that if somebody ended up actually hurting Belarus, Russia would react just as bad.

...

All these are just my impressions, though. And they might not even be all canon-compliant as I may have missed something. I still hope they make sense! But if you want to explore the slavic siblings, I’d recommend you to have a look at @chessna2, she’s certainly more expert about them than I am!

[butterfly-winx]

Seen a lot of talk about relationships in people’s rewrites, and I wanted to share my headcanons for the “butterfly fic” AU! (I’m currently going on an S6+ timeline, so the story starts off with all canon couples and then... crumbles from there)

Bloom x Sky: The two of them got together for real at the end of S2 in this timeline, after the identity shrouding/theft both of them pulled made their start rocky. They both understand why the other did it, but it doesn’t make it any better or easier to bear after months of insecurity, thinking they would be dumped eventually when the truth came out. S3 though S4 they are well off, but then the whammy hits when Sky loses his memories during the oil rig rescue mission. He still knows Bloom and that he loves her, but even after a year he doesn’t feel like he can recover the version of his self that he has been before. Bloom tries to assure him as best as she can, showing him that she can learn how to love the “new” him as well. Their lives end up on hugely different trajectories that lead to their relationship slowly crumbling over the S8 timeline, during which Bloom is going crazy worries about her sanity and reliability (👀). Bloom also slowly finds herself developing feelings for Stella after the other confesses. In the end Bloom and Sky go their separate ways amicably.

Stella x Brandon: So, Stella confesses to Bloom, then how does SxB work out? Well, both Stella and Brandon are home of sexuals in a mutually beneficial fake relationship. They did date of course back in the S1-2 time, fully conforming to what society expected of people of their standing. Stella believed as long as she could find a guy ok enough to settle with, everything would be fine. She could be happy. Brandon on the other hand was a bit more aware of his crush on Sky, but he though if he hid behind a relationship with a conventionally feminine and attractive girl he could squash all rumours and budding feelings. Internalised homophobia is a bitch that did a number on both of them. Though this is not to say there are no real emotions between them. Stella loves Brandon deeply, they consider each other their respective closest friend. In that vein, Stella would do anything to make life as stable and comfortable for Brandon - after his childhood had been less so - including marrying him to make him a prince. Since Solaria supports polyamory, this comes at no additional strain for her. His presence in the meantime wards off other suitors and creeps, for which she is very thankful, as it gives her space to figure out her feelings about Bloom. And oooh does she have many. She eventually confesses during the S8 timeline, but has to wait quite a while for a positive response, after which Stella and Brandon both come clean about the nature of their relationship to the rest of the world. In the end, Stella is lucky enough to celebrate not one, but two fun weddings.

Brandon: He gets his own column, because his story goes on separate from Stella’s. While the engagement to Stella is still on the table in the S6 timeline, Brandon struggles both with his crumbling team of Specialists and his feelings about the new recruit. Alright, he did not recruit Roy to the team because he thought he was cute. Brandon thinking that and low-key flirting with him came after they settled on the addition to their team. But BxR doesn’t have a long future after Roy believes Brandon cheated on Stella by sleeping with him. Plus his tension with Layla eventually lead to Roy leaving the team mid S7. Long after that, Brandon gets over his crush for Sky, just when Sky is in the middle of a life crisis and Brandon tries his best not to get sucked in too deep again, but that hurts Sky and irreparably damages the close friendship they had before.

Flora x Helia: Ah yes, unproblematic faves. Don’t change what isn’t broken. (Their S5 trouble isn’t about Flora being jealous about a literal teenager,  but rather about her shock of him being so willing to close off and leave behind people from different stages of his life.) The two of them would be set for marriage if such a custom existed on Lynphea, but they definitely plan on raising a family on planet once that is an option again.

Timmy x Techna: Equally low drama zone. They felt a bit pushed together when they first got acquainted as their friends started to date each other. Techna was having their gender identity crisis for the majority of S2 so a relationship was furthest away from their mind. They softly flirted in S3 as they grew closer, which as we know ended in Timmy losing his marbles when Techna got sucked into the Omega portal. He confessed right as the rescue mission was still happening and the two of them have been going strong since then. In S5 they even move together, which Musa joins in S6 (they had a two bedroom flat, just in case they needed the extra space from each other, when/if things weren’t working out, but they were using only the one bedroom anyway, so Musa was welcome there) Surprising everyone who knew them, Timmy and Techan were actually the first ones to get married. After Timmy’s family was becoming more and more hostile, denouncing him for his choice of career, Techna thought it was the most logical thing to get married and grant Timmy much better social security. The two of them plus Musa living together were falling into a tooth-rottingly cute domesticity, until life got unexpectedly difficult.

Musa x Riven: The drama central couple that never should have gotten together. In retrospect everything was super clear to Musa: they had gotten together after Riven had rescued her from Shadowhaunt, playing the hero he had always wanted to be - this streak for glory being the thing that ruined their relationship down the road. Riven’s insecurity got the best of him during S5 and he couldn’t stop comparing himself to Sky, feeling helpless even beside Musa herself. She of course was incredibly offended her boyfriend only wanted her as long as she was waifish and he could swoop in for the rescue, so as soon as Domino was restored the two of them broke up, Riven going his own way, away from the Specialist team itself. Reflecting over the mistakes of her relationship cause Musa to realise she was forcing herself to like a lot of things about Riven, and maybe she was actually also interested in women as well. Layla welcomes her to the wlw world and suggests Musa put herself out there. However Musa doesn’t find love anytime soon (not like there weren’t options out there, like Galatea would go on a date with her in a heartbeat if Musa only asked) And then after moving together with Techna and Timmy, the three of them fall asleep on the same couch one too many times for Musa to start thinking there might be something there, a bit more than just friendship.. and then of course she ruins it, cause....

Riven x Darcy: He enters the story again in the S8 timeline, and disappears quickly again after Flora gives him the worst advice of her life (that she thought he looked genuinely happy with Darcy, hoping he wouldn’t force the thing with Musa). So he goes looking for Darcy, unintentionally setting off the whole plot for this arc, because Darcy is not where she should be prison and she is not there on her own accord. Darcy and Riven continue to have a thing on and off (seeing as she is a wanted criminal and shit) and that drives Musa up the wall. She may or may not still have feelings for Riven. Upset, she looks for an outlet with her quarantine mate, and that ladies and gents, is bad decision central

Stormy x Musa: Bad decision central. A drunken one night stand, let’s not talk about it anymore.

Layla x Nex: A sweet one sided crush that goes nowhere. Nex tries, but Layla is nowhere near ready to date again when he steps into her life in S7. He takes the rejection with dignity and the two of them try to remain friends, as best as they can, when Nex suddenly becomes the biggest critic of Layla’s chosen relationship in S8 (he means well of course, and once again, despite the Riven-vibes he gives off, he knows when to shut up).

Layla x Orion: A girl can only handle so much flirting on galactic starsailers before she starts noticing a kind of chemistry she tried to suppress from budding for years after a huge personal loss. Are LxO a match made in heaven? Probably not, but they offer interesting perspectives to each other and are both happy with a casual relationship at that point. Things get tense about a year in when Layla pitches that she does want something more permanent and Orion’s first instinct is to nope out of there. But despite themself, Orion has to realise they really like Layla way too much just to let her go because of their attachment issues. The actual relationship between them is a bit on hold until after everything in the Universe is sorted, but in the meantime Orion becomes the biggest supporter of Layla going her own way and exploring independence away from what people expect of her. Deciding that being a nymph and protecting the whole Universe is way more important to her than following the path the circumstances of her birth set out for her, Layla eventually settles with her partner sailing the winds of the cosmos.

Daphne x ?: Immortal Queen. Needs no one in life except maybe her right-hand woman to lean on 👀 

Some one-sided crushes that went nowhere, but were sweet anyway:

Musa x Layla: not a secret that Musa had a thing for Layla when she transferred to Alfea in S2

Sky x Riven: Due to his amnesia, Sky idiotically forgot he was already out as bi and had a whole crisis, as he developed a tiny crush on Riven of all people

Icy x Tritannus: Gets an honourable mention here because it wasn’t true love, but obsession with power on both sides

Musa x Stella: Not as pronounced as Musa’s other crushes, but on the down low she always softly admired Stella and it turns out what she felt wasn’t envy like internalised societal expectations made her believe 

Diaspro x Sky: Once again, a bit more obsessive than loving. Diaspro saw Sky like a lifeline and she hyperfocused on being able to call a husband her own. After her betrayal and prison time she mellows out, gets pardoned and gets a kind of “stupid, but loving” bf who would kiss the floor she walks on.