#i already see the fandom breaking apart in loneliness

[gleamingsilence]

Why is my most beloved James Spader tag broken?!

[christinethalassinou]

The scene of Hiromatsu's death, regardless of me accepting this deviation from the book or not, is hands-down one of the most emotionally devastating experience anyone can encounter in the history of television, but...

I still wanted to see more of the consequences of it, so this fic had been circling in my mind ever since I've seen ep. 8 for the first time. Tora had it coming.

Fandom: Shogun (2024 version)

Word count: 856

TW(s): Suicidal thoughts

Toranaga thought that he knew loneliness. He knew how it felt like to be alone, how soul-crushing it was to be betrayed by the very people who were supposed to love and protect him without question. He knew how it felt like to grow up in perpetual danger, and how much it hurt that he had no one to turn to when he needed it the most. Until Hiromatsu and Kiri came along, and they dragged him out of the abyss. It took them years, but they did drag him back into the light, as much as they could, they picked up the pieces of his crumbled, ruined life and helped him to build another.

He thought that he left that cold, lonely place behind, but it came back with a vengeance to push him even deeper back into the pit, this time maybe so deep that he couldn’t see the light anymore.

After Nagakado’s death, he couldn’t cry, it shocked him into a hazy numbness, so utterly stupid and incomprehensible it was. Now, however, after everything that had happened in the last hour or so, he could barely see anything as he desperately tried to reach his room before falling apart completely. His vision was blurry with tears held back with the last drops of his willpower, and he gritted his teeth so much they hurt as he tried to choke back his sobs.

Toranaga didn’t stop when he heard someone calling after him, he didn’t care what they wanted, he didn’t care about anyone or anything now; he just couldn’t, not when his life took a turn for the so much worse.

When he finally reached his bedroom, he somehow managed to hold on to the last shreds of his composure at least while giving the order to the guards in front of his door:

“Piss off and leave me alone…!” he choked out as he passed by them.

They knew better than to ask questions or contradict so they left, quietly sliding the bedroom door closed behind Toranaga’s back. The moment he heard the door closing, he all but collapsed, burying his face into his hands as he finally broke down sobbing.

Right until this moment, he thought he knew what it meant to be alone, but the ragged, bleeding void Hiromatsu’s death had just torn into his soul was something else entirely. He felt lost, so lost, he was scared to be without his friend for the first time in his life, and the knowledge that he had to go on without Hiromatsu was nigh unbearable.

I can’t do it…, he thought as his relentlessly falling tears slowly soaked through the sleeves of his kimono, but he just couldn’t stop crying.

If anything, his sobs became even more desperate as images of the horrible events flashed through his mind, haunting him and kicking him even deeper down into that abyss. With Hiromatsu dead and Kiri held captive in Osaka, perhaps mere days from death herself, Toranaga was the loneliest he’d ever known; and it hurt so much that he wished he was the one dead instead of his friend.

What if it’s really hopeless? What if I just…?

He never thought about committing seppuku before, not seriously, but now, as he was sitting slumped on the floor of his bedroom, exhausted from sobbing but tears still running down his face, it felt like a tempting idea. To end this agony, to be free of the pain tearing at his soul and breaking his heart to a million bloody pieces… So what if he’d done it? So much had been taken away from him: his childhood, his son, his best friend; what else he could lose?

Kiri… He could lose her. Who knew, maybe he already had lost her, without knowing it, without being with her when it would’ve mattered the most, failing her utterly.

It’d be over fast… Just a quick slash at the neck with a tanto… What if…? What then…?

Then Hiromatsu would have died for nothing.

Toranaga knew that, and it was killing him all the same, but it also gave him the strength to begin the slow, painful crawl back from the abyss he’d fallen into. He didn’t know if he could do it, but he would try. That was the least he could do, and not only for Hiromatsu, or Nagakado or Kiri, but for himself as well. He’d done it before, when his life seemed the bleakest, when he could barely imagine having a future; and he would do it again, somehow, to honour his friend’s sacrifice, to make sure it was not in vain.

When he eventually ran out of tears to cry, Toranaga crawled to the mattress in the middle of the room and curled up into a tight ball on top of it, soon falling into a restless, nightmare-ridden slumber he woke up from a couple of hours later. He felt beyond exhausted, so he just turned to his other side, wrapping himself up in the blanket, then soon sleeping back.

He prayed that the nightmares stayed away this time; he had more than enough heartache to deal with as it is.

[bl-bracket]

So I know this is sort of unrelated to the brackets, but you seem familiar with a lot of bls since you run this blog and have a large following of bl enthusiasts. I think it would be cool if there could also be a way to give people recommendations (you or your audience) so we could be more familiar with all the people in the polls (besides just watching a show blindly).

Oh this sounds like a lovely idea! I've definitely already discovered dramas that I hadn't known about before through this (I mentioned in my response to the question about my favorite BLs but I discovered DNA Says Love You from someone submitting one of the characters from it lol). I've only really been in the BL fandom for about a year and a half, so I have lots more I can learn and would love to hear more about dramas that I might not be as familiar with from y'all too!!!

During the submissions period when we don't have any active polls going on, feel free to send me any recs for dramas and I can publish them here! Could be especially smart if you have some lesser known characters you want to give a better shot at winning! I'll use the tag #show propaganda

I can start by giving a few recs of some of my favorite lesser known dramas! (Though y'all can give recs for well known dramas as well!)

Ghost Host Ghost House (2022): Kevin has come from America to visit his extended family in Thailand and to also do some ghost-hunting for his ghost hunting show online. While he's there, he meets Pluem who works for his family and is also terrified of ghosts. Things get more complicated when it becomes increasingly clear that Kevin's family is hiding something from him. I loved this show so much (binged it all in one night when I couldn't sleep)! The chemistry between Kevin and Pluem is insane and so sweet! The story itself is also great and emotional and really hits you in the feels. The main problem this drama suffers from is being too short. I think it would have greatly benefited from an extra couple episodes to flush out some more of Kevin's character and backstory, but it still is a fun watch!

My Tooth Your Love (2022): Bai Lang is a restaurant owner with a crippling fear of dentists and a bad toothache. He gets dragged by his older sister to the dentist office where one of her juniors from university is the owner/head dentist, Jin Xuan. Bai Lang reluctantly begins to trust Jin Xuan more and the two get closer, but Bai Lang is struggling with a lot more than just a toothache. Despite its silly premise, the show definitely gets a lot more serious and dark at times and definitely made me cry at a few points. Again, the leads have great chemistry and the main thing the story suffers from is its length as some of the B and C plots get lost, but it still gives a satisfying story for the main plot and is definitely worth it!

Jack O' Frost (2023): Salaryman Fumiya and illustrator Ritsu have been dating for some time now but after a fight, the two break up and Ritsu runs out of their apartment. While he's out, he gets into an accident and gets amnesia, completely forgetting who Fumiya is entirely. Fumiya, who regrets breaking up with Ritsu, sees this as a new opportunity to start again and hopefully get the relationship right this time and decides not to tell Ritsu that they had been dating and had broken up. But Ritsu wants to regain his memories and has the growing feeling that something is off about his relationship to Fumiya. This normally isn't my cup of tea (I'm not big on stories about breaking up and all of that) BUT I really liked this one. It's just such a pretty show with such a profound sense of loneliness in it, especially as it hops between flashbacks of Fumiya & Ritsu's relationship when it was going well and when it was falling apart and then cuts to how things are now. The guy who plays Fumiya really hits for me. I know the last episode was a bit of a hit or miss for some people but I liked it (and also it seems like final episodes aren't always the strongest element of the BL industry). This is also not a show to watch if you like happy stories or healthy relationships lol.

[somekndofnature]

No Other Way #21

Another for the domaystic2022 challenge. I guess the last one I wrote for this wasn’t received that well. I had fun writing it but I can see how it may have turned some people off. Oh well, on to the next prompt!

I do realize we are getting to the end of the year and I should probably give up on this, but I'm really enjoying writing these. They're a really nice break as I work on my longer Inu/Kag piece in this universe. So, I'll keep going for now.

This one is definitely NSFW (thar be smut ahead)

Day 21: Staycation

Fandom: Inuyasha; Modern MMA AU

Pairing: Inuyasha/Kagome

Rating: E (NSFW)

AO3

We Don’t Really Need to Find Reason

Inuyasha gave one last glance around the tidied apartment and then to the clock on the wall. Kagome was due home any minute, marking the start of her winter break from school. In his opinion, it hadn’t come soon enough. 

Although the close of this semester wasn’t as chaotic as previous ones—starting her graduate degree had really mellowed things out—it still meant days when he barely saw her and nights when she came home so tired that she didn’t say more than two words to him before passing out from exhaustion. Kagome never did anything by halves. If she was paying for a class, she was going to ace it. There was no other option; she was that devoted. 

Inuyasha was proud of her; he just didn’t like that the trade off meant times when it still felt like he was living alone. That loneliness was annoying on its own, proving just how dependent he had become on the woman in his life. Sometimes it felt like time just stopped when she wasn’t around. It made him restless. Even though he’d gotten better at sharing Kagome with the other people in her life, no longer hoarding her attention like a selfish troll, it was a little more difficult to share her time with the abstract idea of her other responsibilities.

It wasn’t like he didn’t understand her need for perfection; she wanted to be the best. It was the same thing that got him into the ring every fight night, proving that his hard work, his dedication, made him the best fighter in Japan. The circumstances were a little different, though.  

When he fought, she was always with him–before, during, after–cheering him on from the sidelines with tears in her eyes and the most brilliant grin lighting her face. Inuyasha couldn’t do that. He couldn’t cheer her on while she was taking a test, couldn’t share in those challenges or encourage her when she struggled. To be honest, he found that his absence was the best support he could give her. It all made him feel pretty…useless.  

Inuyasha’s ear twitched at the sound of the key in the lock and he had to tamp down on the impulse to sprint towards the door, taking a second to school his features before glancing into the entryway. 

Kagome was placing her messenger bag on the hook and looking at her phone.

“Yo,” he said, stepping forward as she toed off her shoes. “You’re home right on time. I guess that means it went well?”

She grumbled in response without looking up. 

Inuyasha helped Kagome with her jacket, glancing at her screen in the process. She was already on the university’s website. “Isn’t it a little early for results?” he asked, striving for a light tone.

“Yeah maybe for the classes I had today, but what about the ones from earlier in the week?” she said, leaving him behind as she made a beeline for their bedroom, not even glancing up from her phone long enough to see the bouquet of flowers on the table in the living room.  

Inuyasha's brow twitched in irritation, but he checked the urge to grab her by the shoulders and steer her back in front of them. Instead, he followed her, sure that she would catch on to all his efforts once she passed through the kitchen or their bedroom. 

Their apartment had been in a sorry state and Inuyasha knew he should probably be better at picking up the slack when she was busy, but the truth was he just had a higher tolerance for clutter. He didn’t see the scattered clothes on the floor or half-full sink as a problem. They would get to it when they could. He knew that it had been frustrating Kagome, though. 

So, when he had asked Sango for some advice on how to make his girlfriend happy and she had first texted back with a list of chores, he shouldn’t have been surprised. That had been the easy part. Her other ideas for how to endear himself to Kagome had been a little more difficult. 

No one would mistake him for a hopeless romantic. He could barely get through a chick flick without falling asleep. Inuyasha had wanted to do something special, to catch her off guard. Never had he been so thankful for Google, but he had done his research; he had a plan. If she would just give him two fucking minutes of her undivided attention to explain it. 

As he entered their room, still waiting to catch the sound of a stunned feminine gasp, he couldn’t find her anywhere. 

“I guess you’re right.” she called from the bathroom, slamming a drawer closed with a little more force than necessary. “Nothing yet.”  

“Too bad,” he replied, plopping down onto the made bed. How had she not noticed that? He had flat out refused to make the bed in the past, because it was fucking redundant, and she just walked right by like it was nothing.   

She stepped back into the room, drawing a brush through her long black hair. “I guess I was being a little unreasonable; I’m just anxious.”

“Uh-huh.” Inuyasha cradled his jaw in his palm, slumping forward to rest his elbow on his knee as she chattered away. 

“I was hoping to have good news when we see Mama tomorrow. There’s so much to do before we leave though–” Kagome straightened, mouth falling open in a silent question as she finally absorbed her surroundings. “Did-did you clean up in here?”

“Yeah,” he replied, feeling more than a little put out.

She floundered for a moment before regaining her voice. “Thank you, Inuyasha,”

He perked up at the soft look in her eyes. “W-I I did everything.” 

“What do you mean you did everything?” she asked, brows furrowing. 

He looked away, rubbing at his arm. “Well, the laundry is hanging out to dry on the balcony, the dishes are all done, fridge is full, trash is out, floors are clean–” 

“Inu!” Kagome took a quick step forward, hugging him into her chest–not that he was really complaining. “You did all of that today?” 

He nodded, taking a deep breath of her gentle scent. 

She pushed him back by his shoulders, cupping his face in her hands. “That’s incredible. Thank you so much. But, why is the fridge full? We’re leaving tomorrow and–” 

“I already changed our reservation to Monday,” he explained. 

Kagome frowned. “But Mama is expecting us. Did you even–” 

“I called her.”  

“And you didn’t think to discuss it with me?” 

“For fuck’s sake Kagome, it was supposed to be a surprise. I just wanted to spend some time with you, sue me,” he snapped, dropping his gaze.

She went quiet for several seconds after his outburst before slipping her fingers beneath his chin and coaxing him to meet her eyes. Kagome brushed her fingers through the hair around his face. “Okay puppy, I’m sorry. I’m listening. What did you have in mind?” 

Inuyasha looked her up and down, gauging her sincerity before he straightened and cleared his throat. “Well, I was looking around for some ideas on the web and read about this thing that people are doing where they basically take a vacation but at home.” 

“You mean a staycation?” she asked with a raised brow.

“Yeah, I’m not calling it that.” 

Kagome giggled. “Aw, why not?” 

“It’s hokey and stupid.” 

“Then why do it at all?” 

“Because, we get to spend the whole weekend together, lazing around, never getting out of bed.” When she raised an eyebrow at the implication, he hastened to add. “Not that this is just about sex or something…although, I’m not going to say I wasn’t hoping–” He squinted and shook his head. “I’m doing a shitty job of explaining this.” 

“I think you’re doing fine,” she replied, stroking her thumb along his jaw. “So, the fridge is full because you want me to cook for you?” 

“Yes,” Inuyasha answered automatically before wincing. “I mean, no.” He made a sound of frustration in the back of his throat. “But, you like it when we cook together. You get all happy.”

She offered him a tender smile that made his heart do a flip. “I do really like it.”

“See? I know that.” He nodded with a self-satisfied smile curling his lips. 

“Are you sure we can stay-in all weekend, though?” she asked, slipping into his lap. 

Inuyasha raised a dark brow at her. “Why not? You feeling restless?” 

“I wasn’t exactly worried about me.” 

“What are you trying to say?” He jostled her around playfully. 

“Oh, I think you know. I’m not the one who gets bored easily.” 

“I’ll be fine,” he assured her with a dismissive wave of his hand. “We can veg out on the couch and watch as many serial killer documentaries and sappy love stories as you want. Though, how those are your two favorites, I will never understand.” 

Kagome laughed and smushed his face between her hands. “Okay, no need to convince me further. Though I may also be persuaded to watch one of those horrible action movies or isekai animes you love so much.”

“Hey, at least those are actually fun.”

“They’re predictable. I know the whole plot after the first two minutes.” She rolled her eyes. 

He snorted. “So does this unwarranted criticism of my entertainment preferences mean you’re in?” 

“I’m in.”

“Finally.” He sighed, body relaxing as she wrapped her arms around his neck, threading her fingers into his silver hair. “You’re a tough sell, woman. You know that?” 

“I’m sorry.” She placed a kiss against his cheek. “I’m still in school mode. I had a plan for everything when I came home; laundry, cleaning, packing. I just didn’t expect all of this.” 

“Well, I have a plan too,” he replied, shrugging her out of his arms and back onto her feet. 

“Really? You? A plan?” She giggled as he stood up beside her.

“Yes, smartass. And it starts with you getting into something comfortable.” Inuyasha gave her denim-clad ass an affectionate slap.  

Kagome yelped and scurried toward the dresser, removing a pair of sweats and one of his t-shirts. “Okay, and then what?”

“Then you go pick out whatever we’re watching tonight,” he replied, doing his dead-level best not to leer at her as she changed. 

“I hope you got something easy for dinner tonight,” she mumbled from beneath his shirt as she pulled it over her head. “I’m too tired for anything complicated.” 

Inuyasha stepped forward and threaded her hair through the collar. “Super easy, some may say, idiot-proof.” 

“Is it ramen?” 

He pursed his lips but didn’t answer. 

“It’s ramen, isn’t it?” 

“It’s not, not ramen,” he hedged, brows raised in anticipation of her answer. 

Kagome melted into a soft smile. “That sounds amazing.” 

“Good.” He mirrored her expression and placed a fleeting kiss on her lips. “I’ll get started while you choose something.” 

He led her out of the bedroom and into the kitchen before shooing her into the front room. As he pulled down a few bowls of ramen from the pantry, the sound he had been waiting for finally graced his ears. 

“Oh my–” Kagome gasped. “Inuyasha!” 

He turned around and tossed the plastic wrapped packages on the countertop, pumping a triumphant fist in the air. Yesss!  Inuyasha schooled his expression less than a second later at the pattering sound of Kagome’s feet. 

She swung around the corner and barreled straight into his arms. “You bought me flowers?”

“Yep.” He grinned down at her.  

“Thank you!” 

Before he could respond, Kagome pushed up onto her toes pressing a heated kiss to his lips. Inuyasha hummed against her mouth, startling as she backed him up against the counter. 

“‘Gome,” he protested, pulling a few inches away from her. “What are you doing?”

She didn’t let him go far, slipping her hand behind his neck to pull him in closer. Kagome smiled and flicked her tongue against his bottom lip. “Do I really have to spell it out for you, puppy?” 

“But-but–” 

“Shh.”  

Inuyasha tried to speak but was cut off as she licked her way into his mouth. She still tasted sweet with the citrusy remnants of her favorite gum. 

Surrendering in his feeble attempt at resistance with a guttural moan, he slipped his arms around her waist and drew her flush against him. Kami, she hadn’t kissed him like this in over a month. He had missed the feel of her. Kagome was softness and warmth and home, everything he needed, his perfect other half. 

Inuyasha nipped at her bottom lip, slipping his touch down her body to palm her ass in each hand. She was already grinding her hip against his half-hard length, a live wire in his hands. Kagome was a delightful contradiction when it came to their sex life. She could blush like a virtuous saint while reducing him to a puddle of goo with her mouth. A secret sexpot draped in virginal trappings.

Her cool delicate fingers slipped beneath his shirt, thumbnail circling his navel before blazing a trail upward. She broke from him on a mutual gasp and bunched the material in her hands, dropping her lips to his jaw and neck.

“Off.” The whispered demand raised goosebumps on his skin. 

Inuyasha couldn’t seem to comply fast enough, ripping the shirt over his head with such speed that he heard a few seams pop. It was worth it for the pleased little sound that Kagome released as she ran her hands over the hills and valleys of muscle packing his torso. 

She stood on her tiptoes, nuzzling into the crook of his neck. Kagome nibbled at his collarbone, soothing the slight sting with the gentle stroke of her tongue.

Inuyasha grunted, hands clutching at the hem of her shirt.  

“Uh-uh, not yet,” she gently chastised. 

A soft whine escaped him. 

“Oh don’t worry, puppy. I won’t let you go unrewarded,” she purred, hands falling to his belt.  

“‘Gome,” he panted as her lips skated over his chest, fingers releasing the buckle with a soft jingle.  “You don’t have to–” 

“And what if I want to?” she asked, flipping open the button on his jeans. “Do you think you’re the only one that has been missing this?” 

Inuyasha’s breath hitched as she flicked her tongue against his nipple.

“I’ve been needing you so badly, Inu,” she moaned, pulling down his zipper over the bulge in pants.

He released a ragged breath, hands tangling in the silky length of her dark hair to hold her against his skin as she worked his jeans over his hips until they fell to the floor with a gentle rustle.  

Her fingers slipped beneath his waistband of his boxer briefs, reaching around to grab his ass in both hands.  Kagome grinned up at him as she gave it a playful squeeze.  

“Is it wrong for me to objectify you like this?” she asked in a dreamy tone, dragging her lips down his abdomen as she knelt in front of him. “That I love how exquisitely you’re formed?” 

He shook his head, unable to form a single word. His tongue felt heavy and useless in his mouth as he watched Kagome nuzzle at the sparse trail of silver hair that disappeared beneath his underwear. When she palmed his erection through the tented fabric, his eyes slammed closed, teeth gritted against the surge of heat arrowing to his groin. He felt her slip his underwear down his legs, fingers running up the inside of his naked thighs, the muscles twitching at her touch.  

A curse was ripped from his mouth when she fondled his testicles in her palm, nails sifting through the coarse hair at the base of his cock. 

“Open your eyes, Inu.” 

Inuyasha peeled his eyelids open, choking on his breath at the sight that awaited him. 

Kagome’s gaze was tender and dark as she rubbed her soft cheek against his shaft. “Good. Thank you, puppy.” 

His cock twitched at her praise and she hummed in contentment, turning to place a gentle kiss to the tip. Her tongue darted out, licking at the slit. 

“Fuck, ‘Gome,” he growled, tangling his claws into her hair as he fought to keep his hips still. 

“What’s the matter, puppy?” she whispered, hot breath ghosting over his cock. “Doesn’t it feel good?” 

He answered her with a single harsh nod. 

“Do you want more?” 

Inuyasha thrust toward her mouth, losing the battle against his body’s reaction. More.

“You’ll have to answer me, puppy,” Kagome murmured, leaning forward to run the flat of her tongue along his erection from base.

The muscles in his abdomen jumped at the sudden touch. “Yes,” he hissed from between his fangs. “More.”

“Good boy,” she praised. 

Placing her hands on his hips, Kagome pinned him against the counter and took the tip of his cock between her lips.  She sank down on his length, inch by torturous inch, the heat from her wet mouth drawing his balls tight against his body. When she pulled back, cheeks hollowing with a mind numbing suction, another string of curses was ripped from deep in his throat. 

The pressure on his hips lessened, her hands slipping down his thighs to curl her nails into the muscle. Inuyasha’s control snapped, thrusting forward into her hot mouth several times. Kagome moaned around his length, the sound vibrating down his shaft and spurring him on. He cupped her chin in his palm, feeling the muscles of her throat work around his cock with every bobbing movement of her head. 

“Fuck baby,” he groaned, brushing his claws through her hair. “You’re so good at that.” 

She whimpered in response, a single sneaky hand falling to the waistband of her sweatpants to slip beneath it. 

“Don’t you dare,” he growled.

She mewled in protest as he pulled from her mouth, leaning forward to chase after him like a favored treat.  Inuyasha barely kept himself from giving in and pulled her onto her feet. 

Kagome looked up at him with lust clouded blue eyes. “Why did you stop me?” 

He cupped the back of her head, drawing her forward lick and nip at her lips. “Because I want to be inside you.” 

‘You were,” she replied with a giggle as he pulled her shirt over her head.

He growled under his breath. “You know what I mean, woman.” 

She gasped as he hooked an arm around her waist, dipping his head to draw a pouty pink nipple into his mouth. Kagome cried out and raised her hands to cradle him against her chest.  

He moaned, laving his tongue around the stiffened peak before suckling gently. 

“Inuyasha!” Her fingers curled into his hair, giving it a sharp tug. 

He grunted and released her before turning to give her other breast the same attention until Kagome was squirming in his hold.  

“Inu, please,” she whimpered, nibbling at the tip of his ear. 

HIs knees nearly buckled as an intense wave of pleasure shuddered down his spine. Inuyasha snarled against her skin, nipping at the sensitive tissue in retaliation.  

She bit down a little harder, ripping a growl from deep in his chest.

His erection throbbed, blood rushing like fire through his veins. Inuyasha suckled her nipple between his lips, rolling tightened bud over his tongue until she was pushing at his head. When he finally released her breast with a soft pop, Kagome went limp against him, begging in broken sentences.

Inuyasha helped work her sweatpants over the curve of her ass, allowing them to fall to the floor with a whisper. He shredded the underwear clinging her hips with his claws and wrapped his arm tight around her, lifting off her feet, his aching cock pressed between their bodies. 

Kagome looked up at him, blue eyes glazed over with pleasure. Circling her arms around his neck, she drew him down for a gentle kiss that he immediately deepend. Inuyasha buried his hand in her hair, pulling her head back to map out every corner of her mouth with his tongue. 

In one swift movement he turned and placed her on the countertop. Sweeping their intended dinner away to be forgotten for the time being, he broke from her lips and pushed Kagome back onto her elbows. Inuyasha splayed her legs wide, running the backs of his fingers along her glistening curls.

“Fuck baby, you’re soaking.” 

She nodded, mewling out incoherent syllables as she rutted against his hand. “I need you, Inu.” 

“I know, but don’t rush me,” he breathed, delving deeper into her silken folds. “It's been forever since I watched you fall apart.”  

Kagome moaned at his words, head dropping back as his fingers found her clit. He circled the elusive little bud with the pad of his thumb, entranced by the way her muscles quivered with every rotation. 

She cursed under her breath, surprising him when she crossed her ankles behind his back, heels digging into the globes of his ass as she yanked him forward. His erection slipped along her wet slit before brushing against his busy hand.

“Fucking hell, ‘Gome,” grunted, head falling back as a shudder stole through him. 

She whined, cupping her breasts in her hands. “Inuyasha, please.”

He bit out a curse, losing his resolve at the beautiful wanton picture she made. “Okay, baby. I’ll give you what you want, but you have to give me something too.” 

“Anything,” she gasped. “I just need you inside of me.” 

“Fine but I’m not moving until you come on my dick.” 

Fisting his length, Inuyasha aligned himself at her entrance and pushed a few inches inside of her warm body. 

“Inuyasha!” Kagome moaned, pinching her nipples between her fingers. 

He sunk his fang into his bottom lip, the muscles of his abdomen tightening as he nearly spilled into her right then. The pain grounded him, clearing his mind. His clever thumb resumed its steady pace around her most sensitive spot. 

Kagome tightened her legs around him at the same time, seating him fully inside her pussy on a mutual cry of relief. She rolled her pelvis, doing her damndest to fuck him into submission. 

He growled, wrapping a hand around her hip and pinning her hard against his body. “That wasn’t the deal, ‘Gome,” he said from between gritted fangs, speeding up the movements of his hand.

“Inu,” she whispered, pouting her pretty pink lips at him.  

“Give me what I want, baby.” he murmured, muscles twitching with the effort of holding himself back. “Just give me what I want and I promise I’ll fuck you so good.” 

He could feel her inner muscles trembling around his length. She was so fucking close!

“‘Gome, I need to see it, feel it.,” he urged, reaching the end of his tether. “Please.”

She cried out, squeezing his hips between her knees as her orgasm crashed over her. Her head thrashed from side to side, unruly dark hair drowning him in the scent of her pleasure. She was writhing in his grip, wanton hips rutting against his as her warm wet walls contracted around his swelling cock.  Inuyasha groaned low, letting his eyes fall closed so he could soak in every sensation.

 Too soon, it subsided and Kagome was pawing at his waist as she sat straight up. He sucked in a sharp breath at the change in angle.

“Inuyasha,” she gasped, tugging on the silver ends of his hair. Kagome cupped his jaw in her hands. “Please puppy.” She peppered his face with kisses. “No more teasing. Please, fuck me.” 

Inuyasha felt drugged as he slipped his arms under her legs, cupping her ass in his hands as he dragged her off the counter with his erection still deep inside of her. She whispered his name, both a prayer and curse as her eyelids fluttered. Kagome flung her arms around his neck, pulling herself up to place a frantic, bruising, kiss to his lips. 

“Inu,” she whimpered into his mouth. “You promised.” 

He smiled, watching her through half-lidded eyes. “I did promise, didn’t I?”

She nodded, mewling when he squeezed her ass in his hands just hard enough for her to feel the tips of his claws.

“And you were such a good girl, too.” Holding her hips steady, Inuyasha withdrew from her body and plunged back home in a single fluid stroke. 

“Yes! I was,” she shouted. “So, so, good.” 

He repeated the motion, grunting when his legs trembled. Kagome was light as a feather in his arms but the intensity of the pleasure rushing through him nearly brought him to his knees. 

“Again!” She demanded, digging her short nails into his shoulders. “Don’t stop, puppy.” 

Inuyasha buried his face against her neck, licking and sucking at the tender skin, no doubt leaving bright purple love bites in his wake. He rolled his length in and out of her slick pussy in a steady even rhythm, driving them both closer to completion.  

“Faster,” she cried out, her inner walls already fluttering around his cock.

“Fuck, baby, again?” he asked, but indulged her, quickening the pace of his thrusts into her quivering body.  

“Yes!” Kagome screamed, every muscle in her body tensing as he fucked her through a second orgasm. “Inuyasha!”

The iron grip that he had on his control snapped like a rubberband. Inuyasha growled against her skin, increasing the force of his thrusts until she was moaning with every teeth clattering movement of his cock into her wet heat. He was losing touch with anything that wasn’t Kagome. She surrounded him, heavy breaths echoing in his ears, the scent of her arousal intoxicating his nose like the sweetest drug.  

Her hungry mouth was on his neck, licking at the corded muscle. Kagome whispered endearments and affirmations against his skin between kisses, eggging on his movements. She told him how much she had missed him, needed him, loved him. Inuyasha lost himself in her sweet voice, taking his pleasure from her warm and giving body. His legs shook, spine going ramrod straight as the heat of his release began to gather at the base of his cock.

Kagome grabbed his face between her hands and pushed her tongue into his mouth, pussy contracting around his rigid length. She cried out against his lips and Inuyasha stuttered in his smooth movements. He slammed his cock deep within her body, seeing stars behind his clenched lids as he emptied himself into her with a ragged shout.

Inuyasha stumbled forward a step forward and slipped from her body, dropping Kagome back on the countertop as his strength momentarily deserted him. He hugged her close, pressing his nose against her hair as he drew her scent deep into his lungs.

“Kami woman, you’re perfect.” 

Kagome hummed and brushed her fingers over his chest in hypnotic soothing circles. “Not so bad yourself.” 

Inuyasha chuckled and tilted her smiling face up to his adoring gaze. “I’m glad you think so.”

He leaned down to capture her mouth in a gentle caress, playing his lips over hers until she sighed in contentment, but soon she was pulling away. 

“As much as I really don’t want this moment to end...” She winced. “I need to get cleaned up before I make a mess in the kitchen you just cleaned.” 

“Too late. It’s absolutely filthy in here,” he replied with a fangy grin. “But I don’t mind.” 

“I would hope not.” Kagone gave his chest a playful smack. 

Inuyasha grabbed her by the hips, nudging her in the direction of their room. “Go on, hurry up.” 

“I’ll only be a minute.” She sauntered out of the kitchen, stopping to grab her discarded clothes from the floor. 

Inuyasha shamelessly ogled her naked ass until she disappeared from view. He groaned, stretching out his liquefied muscles before shaking away the shiver that tripped down his spine. Redressing with an extra spring in his step, he picked up the discarded plastic cartons from where they lay on the floor and went to the sink to wash his hands. He was just rinsing soap away as two slender arms slipped around his middle.

Kagome rubbed her face into his back. “Thank you,” she mumbled. “I really needed that.” 

“Yeah me too,” he agreed. “Feels like it’s been ages.”

“Y-you know that I don’t like being away from you, right?” she asked in a small voice.��

Inuyasha frowned and grabbed a nearby towel, drying his hands as he turned in her embrace.  He tossed it onto the counter and circled his arms around her. “Whaddya mean?” 

“Well, I just know that things have been hectic.” She smoothed her hands over his shirt. “We haven’t seen each other as much as we want and even when we do, it's short and I’m always so tired.”

“It happens, ‘Gome. It was the end of the semester. You have a lot of things going on.”

“But you know I don’t like it, right?”

“What?” he asked, fingers attracted to her thick glossy hair like a magnet. “What are you talking about? You love your classes.”

“Yeah, I do,” she admitted before looking up at him with sincere blue eyes. “But I love you more.” 

Inuyasha smiled and nodded. “I know. To be honest, I just wish I could be more helpful to you.”

Kagome’s brow furrowed. “What? What do you mean you’re not helpful?” 

He grimaced. “I’m just not really able to–” 

“Inuyasha, you help me every day,” she interjected. 

“I know but–” 

“No, you don’t.” She shook her head, pursing her lips. “You make sure I eat enough, sleep enough, drink plenty of water, take breaks when I get frustrated. You even remind me to take my vitamins.” 

“Well, it would probably be the worst time for you to get sick,” he mumbled.  

“That’s exactly what I’m talking about,” she insisted, cupping his cheek in her warm palm. “You help me remember to take care of myself and I need that.” She rose on tiptoe, pressing a firm kiss against his lips. “Thank you.” 

“Uh-you’re welcome,” he said when she pulled away. 

“And thank you for the staycation. I have a feeling it’s exactly what I need.” 

He chuckled. “Okay, but I’m still not calling it that.” 

“Oh, I’ll have you singing it like a hymn by Monday morning.” 

Inuyasha grinned and pulled her in for another kiss. “Never gonna happen, but I look forward to seeing you try.”

[thetentaclecommander]

The Sacrifice of Devils

TSoD (part 3 of the Devil's Saga)

((Header Pic for the series done by Lil-Chilo)) The Sacrifice of Devils Rated M; has adult/heavy themes Fandom: Resident Evil Main Ship: Nemesis/Jill Valentine Side Ships: Chris Redfield/Sheva Alomar Chapters: 12/12

CW: graphic depictions of violence, psychological trauma, implied medical torture, implied/referenced torture, major character death (full tag list on AO3) Summary: "But already my desire and my will were being turned like a wheel, all at one speed, by the Love which moves the sun and the other stars."

The third arc in the Devil's Saga.

Based off of Dante's Paradiso: reflecting reality and the backlash of the real world.

An AU fic set 8 years after the events of RE5 and 7 after Teaching and Slumber. After the events of Teaching, Jill decided to leave the soldier's life, not just for her sanity but for the unexpected result of her misjudgment with Nemesis.

But cracks are below the surface - intentions, especially in Chris' case, are not completely clear, and Sia...isn't always as cute as her smile. And do not forget, that shadows from the past have a way of resurfacing...one way or another.

One such shadow will return - with a vengeance.

This fic will explore darker themes and topics: it will basically not shy away from nor sugarcoat the violent or suggestive situations within. Events from pre-mansion, RE1, 3, and 5 will be revisited (or taken liberty with). ________________________________________________ Excerpt from TSoD: Prologue-

Why? Was it desperation? Was it desire? Was it loneliness? A last ditch effort to control him? Love?  No. No? …I … I…don't know.

Her trust in humankind was shattered. Day in day out seeing people fight for little things; power, money, war. Things that brought out the worst in people, changed people destroyed them pushed them into man-made monsters. She saw it break apart good men like Chris, and saw it change those that already held evil inside into things beyond hellish.  The years of torment with Wesker broke what little faith and trust she had left. The nightmares still come but rarely now; they mix with dreams, dreams of an event that should have never been. The result of that stared back at her with innocent blue eyes years after.  As she sat years ago with a test in her hands, the unpleasant thought of what to do ran through her mind numerous times. She was reaching 30 at the time; she discarded the idea of a family when she joined the BSAA and then after breaking it off with Chris found that to be another dream to be put aside. But it sat in her palm reading in no uncertain terms proof of pregnancy. Something that never occurred, no never seemed a possible option on the table.  He who never had the option to be human, nor the comprehension to do the crimes of a man – but as all abominations of Umbrella was at one point created or cloned from one – still had the desires of one. She wanted to berate herself for her foolish moment of action, acting on such base motives…but in truth how could she? It wasn't forced, wasn't taken…she freely gave and he responded in kind. No…it was more she told him to, manipulated him using him for her own fucked way to grieve. But was that wrong? Wrong to have a creature made for the express purpose to kill, to destroy to be used for that? Was it wrong to have command over such power? To have that power lay hapless under her? Wrong to desire such power between her legs? Wrong to not expect the same comfort from a human? A deeply hidden feeling rose from within, this feeling she hid from the others, this feeling she had kept to herself as the years passed and her life started anew.  It wasn't all about her anymore. (Continue reading the prologue of The Sacrifice of Devils on A03)

[royalnugget42]

Ok so now that I’m officially in the Resident Evil fandom here’s something

In the aftermath of the explosion in that little village, Ethan’s body is recovered. He is completely molded though, and has no memory except that he has a daughter named Rose, and he is sent to a secret facility to be contained and researched. He spends years being experimented on, poked and prodded and his regenerative abilities grow to astonishing strength.

He can regrow whole limbs now. He found this out the hard way, when the scientists started cutting off bits and pieces of him. Whole bones have been regrown from nothing but mold, though he has to eat a lot of rotten food to make up for it. His captors never tell him who he was or what he did, not even telling him his name, and referring to him only by Subject F-001, or Series F.

Their guess as to how he got like this without showing any of the homicidal tendencies of his predecessors is a mystery to them. Perhaps it is the memory of his daughter, perhaps it is his isolation from the rest of the molded, perhaps he just has something in his DNA. Whatever the case, when he is not being hurt he is resentful and angry, but never violent, nor does he seem interested in spreading the mold further.

It’s 16 years after they took him that funding starts to run out for the project. They’ve devoted all the time to research that they can, and now they must look to utilize him in other ways.

They begin with that question, of why he is different from the rest of the molded, retaining some semblance of his humanity. They can’t take his memory of Rose, though they’ve tried, and instead start to introduce foreign samples of mold into his diet, to see if he gains any of their traits.

Did they know what was left catalogued in the E-series mold? Did they realize that every infected soul has left a mark in that strain? Did they predict...no they couldn’t have. But they should have.

Ethan Winters goes to sleep and dreams of his wife. He doesn’t remember having a wife, how could he? But he supposes this must be her, she is lying in bed with him and calling him baby. This is Rose’s mother, and she is beautiful. But she doesn’t say his name. He doesn’t know hers.

When he wakes up he sees a little girl with black hair at the foot of his bed. She giggles at him, but runs when he calls out, vanishing through the concrete walls. When he mentions this apparition, the scientists dutifully catalogue the apparent hallucinations in their notes on him, but they do nothing to help him when he begs them for knowledge.

“Where is she?” he shouts into the stark, empty air. “Where is my wife, where is my daughter? Where’s Rose?” There is no answer. Just the buzzing of fluorescent lights and the quiet beeps of machinery.

The second dream is of a kitchen. Sunlight pours through the window, and the wooden floor is grimy, but only because it hasn’t been washed since breakfast yesterday.

There’s an old man at the table. His wife brings a meal to the table, and whatever it is smells delicious. Their son, it must be their son, sits off to the side, scrolling nonchalantly through his phone. Their daughter is gathering silverware.

They are the picture of an idyllic, loving family. They smile at him and ask him if he’d like anything more to eat, gently chiding him. He’s so thin, shouldn’t he have just one more helping? So he dutifully finishes off another, before declaring he is done. The old man turns to him.

“You’ve got to go back soon. When you do you’ve got to remember.” Remember what? He only remembers Rose, he doesn’t even know who these people are. They aren’t his family, he knows that, but in a warped and twisted way they also are. The edges of his vision are black with mold as they all beg him to remember, to break free, to be himself again. Zoe is the last to speak.

“I know you remember us. We live on in you, everyone does. We’re all counting on you, kid.” He feels like he’s too old to be called a kid by this girl, but maybe this girl is older than she looks. Maybe he’s younger than he thought.

The little girl is back. She doesn’t run this time, just stares at him. It seems she is waiting for a question, and it’s only as he realizes this that he knows what to ask. “Who are you?” he asks. “Who am I?”

She laughs at this, bright and sharp as glass. “I’m your daughter, of course! And you’re my daddy.”

Rose? Is this little girl Rose? But no, she isn’t. He’s not sure how he knows but he does. This girl isn’t his daughter, except she is, isn’t she? They’re connected. A family in reverse. He didn’t make her, not like he made Rose, but she didn’t make him either. He’s too new for that. How can he be younger than his daughter?

“Evelyn.”

She smiles at the recognition in his eyes. There’s fear there, but also familiarity. This is at least someone he knows. If she is his daughter, then he must be her father. That’s how it works isn’t it? All at once he feels like a part of his identity is locked into place. If he is a father then he has to protect his daughters, both of them. He must find Rose, and his wife.

She fades away before he passes out again. He dreams of pain, in his hand, in his legs. He dreams of terror and aching phantom memories. There’s a woman, tall and beautiful, with hands like long knives, her daughters all over him, many-legged. There’s a doll, there are so many dolls, and there’s a woman in mourning. A creature of water and filth confronts him, spewing out acid that burns in his mind. He talks to a man that moves metal without touching it. The man tells him to remember, tells him not to give up.

“You were always so stubborn. Don’t lose that. You’ll get those bastards yet.”

There’s a woman, and she has Rose. He kills her, and as she crumbles she whispers that she is finally with her daughter. She whispers to him that they are family, that they are both related and the same. He takes Rose from where she cries amongst the stones, and feels his hands fall apart.

Evelyn is a good daughter. When he is awake, he tells stories, about his dreams, about her mother. Evelyn tells him things too.

“You and mom tried to kill me, but I never knew why. I had a long time to think though, and I think I might’ve been a bad girl.”

For what it’s worth, he is sorry, but Evelyn shakes her head. “It was for the best, after all. You weren’t really my dad then.”

He doesn’t know what he is. The scientists call him series F, but he doesn’t know what that means. Evelyn used to be called series E. She says maybe his name starts with an F, but he knows that it doesn’t.

He’s different from Evelyn, but not so different that he is distant from her. Evelyn says that she tried to give him a gift, something she gave to lots of people. She gave it to his wife too, but she never gave anything to him.

“You have a gift too,” she says, “but it didn’t come from me. You made it all on your own. I came from this place, from these scientists, but you made yourself. It’s like you grew from nothing.”

Evelyn always wants to have more family, always wants to give more of her gift. She asks if Ethan is the same, and he realizes that he has never tried to give his gift to someone else. He doesn’t know if he wants to. He already has all the family he could ask for.

He dreams of his wife. Her name is Mia. He knows that now. His name is Ethan, and her name is Mia and they are family.

Scientists have been recording his conversations, and they’re growing concerned. Ethan spends so much time talking to his “daughter” Evelyn. They have realized by now that the E strain mold in his diet must have contained some trace of Evelyn’s consciousness, possibly along with others. They’ve stopped exposing him to it but it seems the damage is done. He asks for Mia and Rose at every waking moment that he does not spend talking to Evelyn.

They took a risk. They took far too many risks. Something happens one day, when a woman comes in to monitor his physical state. He was supposed to be sleeping, but the drugs wore off sooner than expected. He saw the woman through the door, and he begged her, to let him out, to bring him to his family. She ignored him. He pounded against the glass and she just rolled her eyes and took more notes.

Something snapped. No, not snapped. It twisted and warped and grew. It blossomed.

If this woman wasn’t going to let him see his family, then he would make more family. He would make her see his side, and once they were family she would have to help him. That’s what family does. His breathing slowed, and he closed his eyes. With every ounce of longing and loneliness he reached—

Agony.

[rcdfield]

❝  i don’t have nightmares when you’re there.  ❞ Carmen and Chris!

Staying The Night Prompts

pairing: chris redfield x carmen lopez fandom: resident evil word count: 2.5k

As much as Carmen wished for the night to continue and turn into the morning without them noticing, the constant gaze to her digital watch over the door to her kitchen was impossible to resist. The movie playing in front of her was already forgotten.

It was September 30th and as every year during that time, her mind would no longer rest, running the memories in her mind like a movie in the theater, tormenting her with the ghost of her sister… of her colleagues. Innocent civilians paying for the hubris of a corporation that had seen the city as their big test field. And the nightmare repeated until it would end with herself joining the dead and awakening to be one thing: A monster.

Thunder and lightning took no break, ripping the sky apart and growling so loud, she thought it might shred her apartment into pieces next.

“You alright?”

She almost didn’t hear his voice over the loud thunder, as even the late night movie was hard to understand and she had turned the volume so loud, she feared her neighbors might follow the plot better than she did.

Avoiding locking her eyes with his, she stared at the tv, legs pressed against her chest and arms wrapped around them. Breathing hurt, but the lack of air in her lungs helped her not to think about it. To concentrate on whatever movie was running in front of her. A comedy, from the looks of it.

“Carmen?” Chris’ voice breached through her, laying over her skin like a warm blanket, but with the next lightning and the following thunder, it was ripped away from her again, leaving only the cold grip of fear behind.

Only as Chris stepped into her view did she dare to look at him. He had already put on his black jacket which was still damp from the rain as he had arrived at her apartment for their little drink. It was a tradition for them. If one of them were in town on the 30th, they would meet in their apartment and drink. They barely talked about that fateful night and she knew that Chris was the last one to ask, as Jill and Claire had told him exactly what had happened — and how much luck he had had back then.

But she knew Chris. He saw this turn of events anything but lucky, and always regretted it that he hadn’t stayed in Raccoon a little longer. That perhaps he might have helped a few more people. Chris Redfield and his savior complex, as she liked to say it.

Yet, tonight was different. It was already very cold, as if fall was catching up earlier this year and no one except them were in D.C..

Jill and Carlos were on a mission in Southern Chile, Leon was somewhere in Spain, Claire had begun working for TerraSave and tried finding more victims of Umbrella’s crimes and did her best to help them. So, it was just the two of them, but somehow the old feeling of loneliness and dread crept up in her body like the cold turning her blood into ice with every second that passed until it would succeed as soon as Chris would leave her apartment.

“I’m alright,” she answered a bit too fast, having already seen another question about her wellbeing leaving his lips. Chris raised his eyebrow and the car keys in his hands slipped right back into his jacket.

“See you tomorrow?” He asked and Carmen wished she could answer with yes.

“I took the day off,” she whispered back, voice barely audible, but she knew Chris understood her. He didn’t take his eyes off of her for a second and this time she met his gaze head on. It was as if he expected her to break into tears any moment… like a fragile little vase of glass that has to be handled carefully or she’d shatter.

But whatever her gesture had given him for signals, it was far from what she wanted, as she only saw in the corner of her eyes a soft nod, before he walked around the sofa and his hand fell onto her shoulder.

It was surreal how warm his touch was, reaching through her jumper and spreading all over her skin.

“See you on Monday then.”

It was painful not to stand up and give him a hug, as she always did when they said goodbye. Sometimes it was the only thing bringing her through some long nights, sometimes even weeks, before she’d see him again one morning with two cups of coffee waiting in her lab.

Carmen cursed herself for longing after his warmth as soon as he stepped towards her door. She was old enough to survive a damn night with thunder and lightning. It wasn’t different from any other night with a storm and yet, the pouring rain outside threatened to drown her as soon as he’d step over the threshold… and let her demons consume her. Ask him. It wouldn’t be the first time.

“Chris?”

She didn’t turn her head, only listening to his stalling heavy footsteps. She felt his eyes against the back of her head.

“Do you… do you need to be up early?”

Coward. She let her legs slip through her grip and the cold of her wooden floor ran right into her feet.

“I have a briefing around eight,” he answered and his voice got clearer and louder together with his steps.

“You don’t have to say yes, but—” Carmen sighed with a mute grunt. “Can you stay with me… for the night?”

Silence spread through her apartment with only the rhythm of the rain and the chaotic crashing of the storm rioting outside, but even a clear no from his side would have been better than whatever this silence was.

“I get if you want to go home and sleep in your own bed, but mine is pretty big and—” The hard contrast of the heat running into her head to the coldness in the rest of her body made her dizzy and Carmen expected for her brain to explode. “I just… I don’t have nightmares when you’re there.”

Even though she couldn’t see his face, her back still turned towards him and too much of a coward (too much of a broken little girl) to watch him shake his head, decline with a polite excuse and leave, Carmen quietly took a deep breath, but the following shallow breaths were impossible to quieten. They came quicker in a row and she already feared for Chris to witness another one of her attacks. It was just one of those nights. The ones which showed her clearly that no matter how much time would pass, they’d come for her and torture her, enjoying every little drop of her cold sweat when she’d wake up screaming.

Minutes passed (at least it felt as such) and Carmen feared he had left without a word, that she might have scared him away with her burdening request, but as she was about to turn her head to the door, Chris sat down beside her, free of his jacket and only sitting there in a dark blue shirt, as if he’d never intend to leave in the first place.

“You might regret that.” Carmen would have probably overthought his warning a hundred times before he could have explained it further, but the smile hiding in the corner of his lips was enough to keep any thought of hers at bay. “I was told I’m a blanket hogger.”

The laughter broke out of her without warning, echoing through her apartment, as if not one nightmarish memory had already burned into her mind and as she joined with a chuckle, every little fear inside her perished from existence. Untouchable for the moment, invincible.

“You can have your own,” Carmen answered between giggles and wiping off a tear from her cheek before going off to find another blanket somewhere in her wardrobe.

Chris turned off the tv, casting the rest of the apartment in darkness, before light led him into her bedroom. A room he had only seen twice and somehow felt forbidden to enter. It wasn’t big, as the bed took up much of the space, but the warm, orange colors reminded him of her former dorm room, as the same wall of picture decorated the left side. Most of the pictures were new. Many portrayed Claire and Carmen on their little vacation they had taken a few months ago through Europe. The right kind of adventure, as his sister had told him. Others showed Jill and Carmen in summer dresses from this year at Barry’s house or Carlos and her, doing silly faces and holding up carrots. The writing on the polaroid frame made him chuckle again: ‘Te quiero, hermanita. Stop annoying me into eating my vegetables.’

But one picture, right in the middle of her wall, caught his attention. It wasn’t a polaroid, but one of the bigger pictures pinned and Chris questioned if it might not actually be him on it, but someone who happened to look like him. It wasn’t a good picture, as it was a bit blurry and the bright sun at the horizon didn’t help with the quality, as the people were almost silhouettes, but he would recognise that wide smile anywhere. They didn’t look into the camera, both of their eyes hidden by sunglasses, but even behind the tinted glasses she was almost out beaming the sun itself, as he seemed to smile wide about something she had said.

Yet, he didn’t remember ever having taken this picture.

“It’s the only one I have of us.”

His eyes jumped to her, not having noticed that he had taken it from the wall, staring at it as if it was a riddle to solve. He looked at the backside. Vancouver, April 1999. The spring he has been visiting her in Canada… The same year they had survived another outbreak in another damn lab of Umbrella.

“I can’t remember someone taking a picture of us.”

“Moira took it. She was so eager to try out her new camera, but had no idea how to use it,” Carmen smiled. She still remembered little Moira grabbing after her new birthday present and shooting a picture of anything that got under the lenses. It had been only a question of time until she’d find a chance to take one of them, and even though Moira had been disappointed with how some pictures looked, she’d never forget the big smile on the little girl’s face, when she had told Moira how much she loved that picture of herself and Chris — only for Barry’s oldest to give it to her as a present.

Chris placed the picture back into its place on the wall, before looking at the thick blanket in Carmen’s arms, but she kept her eyes on the picture with nostalgia written in her eyes, but ultimately locking her eyes with him as he relieved her off the blanket.

“You had interesting hair back then.”

Chris’ head turned back to the picture and let out an exhausted scoff, as he understood what she meant. Back then his hair had been a bit longer and stood wild from his head in what his sister had called the ‘bad boy charm’. Nothing he had thought much about back then, but something inside him stirred awake as Carmen chuckled about his reaction. It drowned out any other sound from outside. Chris thought the rain had stopped for a second and the storm had passed as well, but when he turned to her bed and the window close to it, it seemed to have gotten worse, but he didn’t care.

The little sound of delight was just so innocent and addictive at the same time, he mentally called himself out to keep in check. “Another word and the other blanket will be mine, too.”

She kept her mouth shut, but the wide smile spoke enough unsaid words, which caused him to roll his eyes. This wouldn’t be the end of her teasing about his old hair style. But as soon as they had taken their turns in the bathroom, the storm had lightened with only a heavy rain remaining, but another storm was approaching Carmen’s stomach. In all her luck not to end up alone this night and imprisoned by her own mind in nightmares, she had forgotten that Chris had no change of clothes — which meant him without a shirt and in dark boxers only.

Nothing she hadn’t seen before after a nice day at the beach, but somehow in the soft orange light of her nightstand lamp in her bedroom, it reached her heart with illicit thoughts.

Chris didn’t look at her, when he joined her in bed, his eyes closed as soon as he lay down with one hand on his chest and arm behind his head, as if he was only about to take a little nap. Her bed was slowly encapsulated by his scent, a fresh citrus tone with something wooden in there and Carmen caught herself wishing for her pillow to hold on to it forever. It made her forget about the next day, about what had happened all those years ago, even if it was just for the moment.

Carmen turned off her light and the shadows of moving branches of the trees outside casted by the cold streetlamp light danced on her wall. She closed her eyes, not waiting for the shadows to play a trick on her, slowly turning into walking corpses in the dark corner of her apartment or waiting for a moan of the dead, as one sneaked into her home.

“You think loud,” Chris ripped her out of her horror, making her flinch, but the final smile was inevitable on her lips.

“Sorry, I just— it was raining that day. When I was at the RPD. I somehow expect one of those zombies crashing through the windows any second.”

“They’d have to jump real high to reach your window.”

Carmen’s giggle broke through without warning, imagining the zombies jumping in front of her window like an overexcited puppy and as she opened her eyes to look at Chris, they met his.

He had this laid-back smile, so free of worry that it was strange to remember his usually serious expression at work, where everyone only knew him as ‘Agent Redfield’.

“Thank you, Chris. For staying.” Her words were merely a whisper, but he heard them, nodding at her while his smile didn’t falter a bit.

Her heart had already decided before her head could have a say in it, as he spread out his arm and offered her his side. She didn’t even dare to look him in the eye as she snuggled close to him and thus ruined any other pillow for her.

Chris was tall and bulky, but her head lying on his chest and listening to his heartbeat was like a personal-written lullaby to her, as his perfume was filling her other senses and turning off any kind of dark memory.

She had already drifted off to sleep as Chris put a gentle kiss on the top of her hair and slipped into Morpheus’ arms, as well.

[damienthepious]

i would sell u to satan for One Comment. pfft dklfsldkjf hello please enjoy my little fic lalala

Missive

[ao3]

Fandom: The Penumbra Podcast

Relationship: Lord Arum/Sir Damien/Rilla

Characters: Sir Damien, Rilla, Lord Arum

Additional Tags: Second Citadel, Lizard Kissin’ Tuesday, Established Relationship, Secret Relationship, Polyamory, (which like DUH but also), (it's. specifically the context. idk how to. ah whatever just read it.), Kissing, very mild angst, Implied Sexual Content, rilla hooligan hours!!!

Summary: Lord Arum cannot join Damien and Rilla in much of their lives. Luckily, they are all of them too clever to let that stop them from sharing as much as they possibly can.

Notes: this Possessed me. it did not exist this morning, and now it does. oops! uh, enjoy?? ghjgkdjfk love u happy lkt <3<3<3

~

It leaves an ache deep in Damien's chest, the reality which must, for the sake of all of their safety, keep Lord Arum tucked away from his and Rilla's lives in the Citadel. That reality dictates that Damien's home must be kept distant from his lily, that he may not even speak Arum's name or acknowledge his existence for fear of bringing danger to all that Damien loves. It aches, and perhaps it would only ache if Sir Damien were left with his own instincts and sorrow and guilt to guide him, but-

Early on, Rilla comes to meet him on a break (he has convinced the Queen to allow him guard duty again, despite the cast on his arm), on the pretense of checking his injuries and bringing him medication for the pain. She takes his hand, and with a grin that Damien could not argue against even if he wanted to, she tugs him into a side room, small and private.

"What-"

She leans dangerously close, tilts his chin up with a knuckle while her grin slips to a smirk, and then she leans down, pressing their lips together in a tender, fierce sort of kiss, ending with a sharp little bite on his bottom lip. He gasps softly as she pulls away, her other hand tangled playfully in his curls, and when he blinks his eyes back open she laughs at the look on his face.

"Arum wanted me to pass that along," she says slyly, nuzzling against his cheek. "And here's one from me, too."

She tugs his hair gently to angle his head back, and then she kisses him once more, warm and undeniable and stunning his mind completely blank.

She laughs again as he slowly blinks back to himself, holding her close in his arms and murmuring something that might either be a prayer or a line of verse (not even Damien himself is certain, just at the moment), and then she cups his cheek with a softer, fonder smile.

"Rilla," he breathes, and he can imagine, just for a heartbeat, Arum's heat at his back, Arum's arms curling gentle and certain around the both of them. "Oh, oh love, I-"

"I know," she says, stroking her thumb over his cheek. "I know I can't keep you for long, I just wanted to make sure I got that very important message to you." She winks, and Damien laughs helplessly. She leans a little closer, then, her lips teasing at the line of his jaw. "Any return message you'd like to send back with me, Sir Poet?"

Damien laughs again, both at her words and at the nearly tickling touch of her lips against his skin.

He considers, for a moment, humming lightly as he holds Rilla snugly against his chest, and then he nods.

"An equally crucial one, certainly," he says, his voice sonorous with mock-severity. "I am quite confident I can entrust you with delivering a missive of such grave import."

Her eyes spark with delight, her lips pressing together to bury the full force of her enthusiasm. "On my honor, oh brave Sir Knight," she purrs, utterly indulgent.

"But first, my forever-flower," he murmurs, and then he leans up, peppering her cheeks with sweet, gentle kisses until she laughs, and then he captures her own lips properly, and the way she giggles even into the kiss is as dear and right as home. "First, only for you," he finishes, murmuring soft, and she smiles so warm that it makes his heart stumble.

"You are so sweet sometimes that it drives me crazy," she says, teasing over an edge of heat as she squeezes her arms around him.

"I hope I shall drive our lily to quite the same distraction," Damien admits, and then he schools his expression mock-serious again. "Now, for my message in kind..."

Damien curls his injured arm carefully tight around the small of her back, trails his other hand slowly up her spine until he can cradle the back of her head (he imagines Rilla mirroring him, tracing a line up the center of Arum's back, imagines the way the monster will shiver and hiss in response), and then he pulls her gently down into the kiss.

He tries to pour out the whole of his affection, tender and lingering against Rilla's lips, teasing only gentle with his tongue, delicate in just the way he knows will make their monster go breathless and wild when Rilla echoes this kiss in his arms.

When their lips part, he presses his forehead against her own, leaving his eyes closed with a sigh.

"Saints," Rilla breathes, and Damien can hear the grin in her voice. "Y'know, I was planning on trying to get some work done today, but after that-"

Damien laughs. "It was not my intention at all to thwart your plans, my love, but- well, I do not foresee you escaping from our lily's arms for quite some time after you deliver that particular note."

"Oh no," she says, utterly sarcastic. "How awful for me, not at all a complete fucking win that I'll have to find a way to pay you back for sometime."

"Certainly," Damien hums warmly. "Of course not, my flower."

They cling for a little while longer, mutually reluctant for as long as they can justify, until eventually they manage to pry themselves apart, kissing once more before they each retreat to their respective responsibilities. This time, however, the parting does not leave Damien awash with that sense of inevitable heartsick loneliness. He cannot see his lily here, in his Citadel. He cannot even speak of that beloved half of his heart, but-

Arum's mind lingers on Damien, even distant. Enough so to whisper affection into Rilla's ear to bring with her, to bring along to Damien. And Rilla will bear his own affection back, to reassure their monster of their love in the moments they cannot share in truth.

Arum cannot join them in the Citadel, not as the world exists currently, but-

Damien and Rilla both carry Lord Arum with them, regardless. In their hearts, in their hands, on their lips, in the love they share with each other. Even distant, their love persists. Even hidden.

Sir Damien stands stalwart at his post, dutiful for the rest of the day, and his lips tingle and his mind drifts with buzzing affection as he devises some rather pleasant ideas regarding future messages to pass between his loves, and he does not need to brace beneath his yearning while his mind is so much more gently occupied.

Lord Arum nuzzles affection into the back of his neck to carry along the next time he leaves the Keep, arms wound snug around his chest, and Damien enthusiastically carries that warmth with him until he can surprise Rilla between appointments the next morning, making her squeak and giggle when Damien nips gently at the back of her neck.

Rilla shocks him into a yelp with her hand on his backside just outside the barracks, cackling laughter and deflecting all blame to the monster for the slap until Damien laughs as well, already strategizing a volley in return.

Arum pins him against the wall the moment he enters the Keep, echoing Amaryllis' teasing words to soften the news that she will be too busy to join them that evening.

Rilla graces him with Arum's kiss in the market square, surrounded by laughter and light, and he returns a kiss to be delivered in the dim-lit safety of the Keep, and for only a moment, he can feel Lord Arum's scaled palm, settled soft over their own clasped hands.

They weave affection between them, passing hands and tongues and whispers, and whenever any two of them are removed from their third, they breathe their distant love to each other regardless, memory and intent and shared devotion, love murmured from lip to lip to lip to lip, notes folded and refolded, softened by affectionate caressing and made ever more beautiful. And always, every time, the love they carry between them is sealed with a kiss.

[wild-aloof-rebel]

Some Favorite Fics from 2020

Like last year, I want to end 2020 by highlighting some fics that have become favorites over the last twelve months. Before I dive into it though, I just want to take a minute to send some love to all of the authors writing in this fandom.

As of the end of 2019, there were about 8.8 million words of fic on AO3 for this fandom. This year, more than 450 authors have added another 15 million more. That’s so incredibly impressive, especially in a year this difficult. Thank you, thank you, thank you to every single person who contributed to that, whether you wrote one fic or a hundred, a drabble or a novel. Thank you for giving this fandom the gift of your creativity and voice. Your work is so, so appreciated, and you’ve helped to create joy in a year where it was often in short supply. 💗💗💗

*

Okay, on to the fics. I’ve limited myself to no more than one work for any individual author to spread the love around as much as possible, and I’ve bumped up the number to 25 this time around because there was just too much fic this year for me to cut it down any further. 

So here we go. These are 25 fics I loved this year, and what I love about them...

Your heart is keeping time with me by yourbuttervoicedbeau • rated E • 33k+ confession before i start: i’ve never actually seen 50 first dates. but i thought this AU based on it was delightful. patrick’s love for david is so big, right from the start, and i love seeing david lean into trusting himself (and patrick) over and over again

will this ever get old? by startswithhope • rated T • <1k i just like seeing them domestic and soft and happy, okay? and while most of dee’s fics are like that, this particular one is a fave because of them thinking about their future and how they’ll change over the years but love each other right on through

Just to Hold the Hands I Love by DesignatedGrape • rated T • 20k+ it’s like a warm christmas hug, full of musical trolling, gentle pining, domestic nights in, and careful attention to fashion details, which are all absolutely the kinds of things i appreciate

A Case of You by DoubleL27 • rated T • 6k+ patrick is an absolute menace in exactly the way you would expect every valentine’s day. it’s funny and sweet and ends with them in exactly the kind of future we all want for them

Dulce by another_Hero • rated T • 1k+ original characters can be hard to do right. they have to be compelling enough to fit in with these characters we already know so well, and dulce is the kind of character who grabs you from the start. the whole series is lovely, but this first interaction with ronnie is my favorite of them

Tea-Kettle Love by ArabellaStrange • rated G • 5k+ even though this coda to “the pitch” isn’t technically canon compliant now, it still feels a lot like it is. it’s about the sacrifices we are and aren’t willing to make for the people we love, taking the new york discussion into more depth than we get in the show and still arriving in largely the same place

Vanquished by Codswallop • rated G • 3k+ if you’re looking for soft, fluffy sickfic, this is not it, lol. patrick is sick here but won’t let anyone take care of him. he’s stubborn and basically minor chaos ensues. it’s funny and sweet but not schmaltzy. the characterization is 👌, and it feels like the kind of thing that fits perfectly into the world of the show

To Come Out the Other Side by unfolded73 • rated T • 4k+ • warning for major character death i don’t want to read sad things about david and patrick very often, but sometimes the mood strikes. this one is definitely sad right from the start, but there’s hope and resilience through grief, and i think this year especially, there’s something to be said for stories that can make you feel like there is still good to be found after the bad

Hold Me Like You’ll Never Let Me Go by moodlighting • rated T • 21k+ i never would have thought that a fic would make me WANT to be trapped in an airport, but it’s 2020 and anything is possible, lol. this is what meet cute dreams are made of

Your mother keeps a spreadsheet by upbeat • rated G • 3k+ obviously i love a good spreadsheet, so this one was up my alley from the start, lol. but really it’s moira and patrick bonding through the cataloguing of her wigs (and all the stories that go with them) that makes this one an easy favorite

keep me in the pulses, keep me in the sound by dinnfameron • rated G • 2k+ this sweet little slice of a summer vacation made me ache to be with friends. plus, sometimes you just need some overwhelmingly happy david rose. he deserves it, and so do we

eggs and the flour, no higher power by withkissesfour • rated T • 1k+ i’m pretty sure this fic is the definition of sweet, in more ways than one. it’s a short piece, but the writing is lush and indulgent in all the right places, just like the cakes being described

sustineo by rockinhamburger • rated E • 10k+ before i was even done reading this fic, i wanted another 50k words set in this universe. the conversation between david and patrick is sharp in all the right ways, and because this david has such a hard shell to crack after being hurt in such a horrible and heartbreaking way, it’s that much more satisfying watching patrick break through it

All-Natural Care, Locally Sourced by Siria • rated T • 2k+ siria’s fics are always funny, with banter that’s so perfectly on point, and that’s certainly true here. but there are also care packages and photos and just so much love. it’s a perfect balance, just like the show

hold on to me as you go by helvetica_upstart • rated T • 3k+ i love a good look at just how long patrick has been head over heels in love with david and how much he was in this for life all along. this fic does just that through the framework of times that they saw their new house before they bought it, and it’s everything that you would want that concept to be and more

Exposed Brick by swat117 • rated M • 9k+ this is such a lovely look at david and patrick a few years into their marriage, steady in all the right ways, even when old fears try to rise up between them. it gives david a chance to be the solid and supportive one in the relationship, something i never get tired of reading

We Could Turn the World to Gold by middyblue • rated T • 27k+ as someone who also did c25k at one point, i def empathize with david’s plight in this fic, lol. as much fun as that part of the story is, it’s really the house and everything related to that part of the story that makes this a favorite in my book. this was posted very early in s6, so it’s not the house from canon, but it’s beautiful either way to see them so excited about building their future together there

Waiting on the Day by High-Seas-Swan • rated E • 22k+ this is another fic that makes me absolutely ache for things i couldn’t have this year, namely my favorite local brewery and all the nights spent there with friends. beyond that, it’s just a very sweet AU, and the scene with their first kiss and the rest of that night live in my head rent free

Pot o’ Gold by ahurston • rated E • 22k+ where is the leprechaun/love of my life who’s gonna take me out to eat all of the best foods that my city has to offer? this one is a slow burn but their relationship is so much fun to read right from the start that you definitely don’t mind taking your time getting there. also, the palm reading scene. good grief.

there is no design by the_hodag • rated T • 12k+ this fic gives us a look at some of david’s art, and all the loneliness and love that inspires it. it’s poignant and painful and hopeful and sweet in turn, and i think it does a marvelous job of capturing so many of the facets of david’s past that have made him who he is

A Little Broken, A Little New by nameless_bliss • rated G • 3k+ i’ve read this fic several times now, and david and johnny having a conversation about their own relationship through the guise of talking about patrick and his parents never fails to make me cry

Une très bonne table dans sa catégorie by cromarty • rated T • 23k+ just the concept of this one alone would have sold me on it—like, hello? michelin reviewer and chef? sign me the fuck up—but it’s written with the kind of attention to detail i always expect from claire’s writing, and the fact that it practically starts with a first kiss but then pulls back makes for a delicious dynamic as they build a friendship over that foundational attraction, both tempering and intensifying the wait for them to find their way back into each others’ arms

happy golden days of yore by blueink3 • rated E • 17k+ i literally stopped in the middle of this fic, sat down on my kitchen floor, and had a good cry. i hate thinking about them ending up divorced in the first place, but even as exes, they’re so careful and gentle with one another and so, so clearly still in a forever kind of love. that makes it bearable to see them apart because even if it weren’t tagged for a happy ending, there’s such a feeling of inevitability to it, you know exactly how it’s going to end and just get to enjoy the devastating ride it takes to get there

Fifteen Hundred Miles by MoreHuman • rated M • 30k+ this is one of those fics where everything comes together just right and achieves a perfect balance of introspection and action, courage and fear, despair and hope, forthright honesty and cautious reservation... MoreHuman makes it all look easy, which says so much about all the care that had to have gone into the planning and writing. this fic does everything well, and it’s an absolute pleasure to read from start to end

840 Havenwood Road E by Distractivate • rated E • 10k+ we barely see david and patrick’s new house in the show, so it shouldn’t be possible for me to be as emotional about it as this fic makes me, every single time i read it. but it’s the home they chose, the place they decided to build a life together, and getting to see flashes of that life through the years and how much love they clearly had for each other within those four walls just makes me cry again and again

[jazzytriestowrite]

Date night | Takami Keigo (Hawks) X Reader

Fandom; My hero academia

Pairing: Takami Keigo (Hawks) X GN Reader

Synopsis: Late nights and long mornings, quarantine has made it hard for y/n to see anyone, more or less their boyfriend hawks. Feeling bad for leaving his s/o alone in their empty home, hawks plans a date night for the both of them to relax and enjoy the little time they have together. 

Warnings: A bit of angst at the start, but after that bone rotting fluff. 

Word Count: 4,778

A/N: This lovely fic is apart of quarantine fluff collab that the discord server crackhead sanctuary put together. Thank you Sof @myherowritings​ who hosted this, and I can't wait to read everyones fics!! Also this lovely banner was made by @sanurrwrites​ and I'm very thankful!!! 

♡~♡~♡~♡~♡~♡~♡~♡~♡

It hit us unexpectedly.

The drastic change in how we did everything was overwhelming, and many of us didn’t really think it would be such a big deal at first. It was a silly virus that would be cured within weeks, nothing to really worry about. So everyone continued about their normal lives, happy that the virus wasn’t in their country, happy it wasn’t them. It simply wasn’t our problem right?

Wrong.

Everything flipped and turned upside down when the unknown and mysterious virus finally hit Japan. While earlier we thought it wasn’t our problem, what are we supposed to say now that it's at our front door? Affecting our neighbors, our friends, our students and our heroes who protect society. No one really cares until it's your problem.

The first death the virus caused made everyone realize just how serious this was. This wasn’t some joke, people's lives were actually in danger and things needed to be done to protect the citizens from a virus that was on a killing spree.

That meant no more social gatherings.

Someone might ask- Well that doesn’t sound too bad? What's wrong with not having to see people?

It was a problem to you, and many others.

Laying in bed day after day, letting the loneliness set in and the worry skyrocket about the current situation. You had taken the simple act of seeing someone in person for granted, and realized just how texting and calling wasn’t the same. You missed going out with friends and doing random things that made you happy. You missed going to the ice cream parlor down the street that would sell you ice cream and soothe all your sad and depressive feelings. What you missed the most was your boyfriend.

The sudden thought of him already made your eyes water and your heart clench. ‘’I miss you Keigo’’ You whispered to the darkness, pulling your warm blanket closer to your body for comfort. The bed that was made for two, suddenly felt way bigger than it needed to be without your boyfriend. ‘’I’m just being selfish, he’s keeping us protected’’

Keigo or Hawks as most society knows him, had been quite busy since the virus broke out in Japan. You’d think villains themselves would stay inside once they heard a virus could kill them, but it was quite the opposite. With no one outside to stop them from their wrongdoings, it was easier for them to commit their daily crimes. So that meant heroes never really got the break they thought they’d get.

While they risked their life everyday to protect citizens, the risk factor was now doubled because of the virus. Heros would continue to go out and protect homes, stores and people who needed it, not letting the virus keep them from doing their job.

It made you happy to know that your boyfriend was doing his job, and probably saving many lives with his patrols. It just hurt that you couldn’t really see him anymore. He was gone before you woke up, and back away after you’ve closed your eyes. You had tried multiple times to keep yourself awake, but never seemed to make it.

You missed his laughter, the way he grinned after getting on your nerves and the stupidly cute smile that would make your heart flutter. You missed his bear hugs and his butterfly kisses all over your face. You missed everything about him down to his annoying antics and crazy eating habits. You had taken it all for granted and now all you had was yourself and the little notes he would leave behind.

‘’I love you Keigo, goodnight baby, stay safe’’ You whispered to the darkness, hoping your words would get to him. Closing your eyes, you snuggled into your body pillow and fell asleep within minutes.

♡~♡~♡~♡~♡~♡~♡~♡~♡~

A couple hours later, the front door of your home creaked open. A blonde male entered quietly, or what he thought was quiet. His posture was slouched, and the eye bags under his eyes gave a clear giveaway that he was tired. ‘’Shit’’ He glanced at the clock and saw it was around 3 am, meaning you had fallen asleep some time ago. His red wings felt heavier than usual, and the thought of sleeping by the front door so he wouldn’t have to climb the stars to the bedroom, was seeming like a good idea.

Keigo shook that idea out of his head, if anything, he wanted to see you, even if you were already sleeping. He felt filthy, so maybe a shower before he got into bed. Even though he was sprayed with every cleaning spray known to man before coming back to your shared apartment, he still took extra precaution when coming home to you. Constantly checking his temperature, and wearing a mask and goggles to keep you protected. You were his little dole, he’d never get over the regret if he passed a virus on to you.

Slugging upstairs, he yelled in fright when he felt himself falling forward towards the steps. At first he didn’t even fight it, trying to save himself from marks on his face from steps seemed like too much work. However, his wings spread out as much as they could, leaving the males face hovering over the steps he was just about to kiss. ‘’Oh’’ He mumbled, the simple thought to use his wings had flown out of his head. God he was so tired. Standing back up, he carefully treaded up the stairs, trying to be more quiet now that he was getting closer to the bedroom.

Opening the bedroom door as quiet as he could, his yellow eyes found your body first. Walking closer he stared down at your sleeping form, a small smile appearing under his mask. ‘’Hi baby, I’m home’’ he said softly, before he frowned. He noticed the tear lines on your face and his heart suddenly felt heavy. Just the thought of you crying without him here to comfort you was truly heartbreaking. You weren’t the only one who missed their partner, since he was surely feeling the same loneliness as you.

He teared his eyes off of you finally, walking away and into your shared bathroom. Shutting the door behind him, he turned on the light and let gaze find the mirror. His rough appearance made him cringe. His golden blonde hair was matted down poking in every direction, eye bags were prominent and his gorgeous smile was covered by this stupid white mask. Reaching up, he ripped the mask off his face, cringing at the red lines he saw of having to wear it so often.  All of this sucked. Yet if it meant keeping you and others safe, he would wear this mask for eternity.

About an hour later, he’d showered and dressed in the clothes he’d be sleeping in. All today's grime and cleaning products washed off his skin leaving it spotless. As he stood in front of the mirror, brushing his teeth half heartedly, the thought of you crying earlier was still fresh in his mind. While you wouldn’t tell him you were lonely and wanted more, he knew better. He had been with you for some years now, he knew you inside out. He knew that whilst he had it hard, you were equally suffering.

Within the first two weeks of Covid 19, your student Bakugou Katsuki had caught the virus and was hospitalized due to it. You had cried for 4 days straight, and nothing he said made you feel any better. Being a U.A teacher meant you had worried even more for your students, who were still kids and had places to go.

Keigo felt terrible that he was putting extra stress on you since he still had to do his duties, and that everything wasn’t easy on you just because you were home and hopefully safe.

‘’I’ll make it up, we’ll both have some fun soon’’ He said to himself in the mirror, before spitting out the nasty toothpaste and rinsing his mouth out with some cold water. Finally finishing up, he turned the bathroom light off and trudged towards the bed. Climbing in lazily, he wiggled under the comforter you were hogging to yourself. As his head hit the pillow, he had to keep himself from falling asleep on the spot. The soft fluffy pillow almost sent him to heaven. Scooting closer to you, he wrapped his arms around your body and pulled you closer to him, his head resting in the crook of your neck. Your hair didn’t even bother him, if anything the smell of your shampoo calmed him.

‘’I love you y/n, goodnight dove, I’m home and safe’’ Keigo whispered to you before finally letting his eyes slip close, knowing in a few hours he’d be gone again. Yet getting to hold you before he went to sleep always made his mornings and days easier.

♡~♡~♡~♡~♡~♡~♡~♡~♡~

Sometime before the sun came up, you had felt the bed move, and the warm arms that were keeping you secure left again. You wouldn’t lie, the disappointment you felt hit harder than anything. And when you heard the bedroom lightly shut behind Keigo, you simply wrapped your arms around yourself, hoping to mimic the arms of your lover. Yet his arms and presence were unique, so of course you couldn’t replace his embrace.

You don’t remember falling back asleep, so it confused you when you suddenly felt the bright rays of sun on your face. ‘’Oh, Good morning I guess’’ You mumbled as you sat up, trying to rub the sleepiness out of your eyes.  Shielding your eyes from the sunlight with your right hand, you looked around for the one thing that always made your morning.

‘’There it is!’’ You say happily as you roll out of bed and towards the dresser that was next to the bathroom. On Top of the wooden dresser was a handwritten note covered in chicken stickers, and a red rose next to it. Grinning you grabbed both items and jumped back into bed, excited to see what the dumb bird had wrote for today.

Ever since the pandemic started, and since Keigo had been having long shifts, he’d always left letters for you to read in the morning, and a different coloured rose everyday. It made him leaving easier, and the fact that he spent time writing and putting his feelings into them always sparked joy.

Carefully opening the note, you were met with Keigo’s chicken scratch handwriting. You loved him, but one day you were going to give him writing lessons. You shook your head in amusement, ignoring the bad handwriting, you began reading.

‘Good Morning Chickadee,

I hope you had a good sleep baby, I came home late again but as soon as I had the chance you were in my arms. You cuddled up to me instantly, what if I was some intruder? I guess even in your sleep you recognize me and my godliness.  

Anyways, I apologize for once more coming home late beautiful. Work has been a bit stressful, but I believe we’ve put a dent on the villains plans. Only small time villains are really causing trouble, and were handling it pretty well. I think sooner or later we won’t need so much patrolling anymore. Hopefully soon, I wanna spend time with my lil nugget.

Oh! I have some news.

Someway or another, I will get off early today and spend some very much needed time between the two of us.

Not to be too sappy in this letter, but, I really miss you y/n. Way more than words can describe. It’s lonely patrolling instead of being home with you and having fun, and honestly just the thought of coming home to you at night is the only way I’m getting through my days at work.

I miss you and the weird laughter you let out at my god awful jokes, I miss you and the way your eyes sparkle when you look at something you like, I miss you and the way you love me unconditionally even when i’m being a weird asshole.

I love you y/n, and I’ll see you tonight dove.

-The best boyfriend ever

ps. You mumbled my name in your sleep.. Having some good dreams huh ;)’

‘’I hate him so much’’ You say while grinning and holding the note towards your chest, your heart beating like crazy. It was weird he still had this affect on you despite dating for a few years, but you hoped this feeling never went away. Neatly folding the note back to how it was, you crawled to the edge of the bed and pulled out a container that was hidden under the bed. Popping the lid off, you placed the note from today alongside the other notes you’ve received over the weeks.

‘’I love you Keigo’’ You whisper lovingly before closing the box once more, sliding the box back under your bed. Picking up the rose you abandoned, you smiled at it. The red rose was beautiful, and it seemed your lover had taken the time to cut the thorns off it.

Shaking your head with a smile, you stood up and walked out the bedroom, your feet padding against the cold ground. ‘’God it’s freezing” You mumble out loud shivering physically, before heading into the kitchen. Opening the window above the sink, you see a cast of 7 different colored roses from this week alone. ‘’Here's your new home’’ You say softly to the red rose before placing it in the vase next to the others.

Leaning against the sink, your gaze wandered to the window or more specifically what's outside the window. The beautiful flowers that were blooming outside made your mood feel lighter, and hearing the kids laughter who was next door made your heart clench in joy.

You couldn’t wait to start a family with the love of your life.

Now that you were up, you would start your daily routine of going with the flow and seeing where the day would take you. Hoping that Keigo would keep his promise in the note and come home early so you could shower him with much needed affection

♡~♡~♡~♡~♡~♡~♡~♡~♡~

Sighing, you turned off the tv with the remote, eyes getting tired of staring at the same screen for hours. Looking over at the clock, you read it was currently 8pm. While your boyfriend said he’d be home tonight, it was starting to get late and you were questioning if he’d actually show.

Not that it’s his fault or anything, you knew his job could get stressful. Yet that wouldn’t stop the disappointment that started to set in, which was a very valid feeling.

Standing up you begin to head towards the bathroom, planning to simply take a bath before getting comfy in your bed and reading, a hobby you picked up after quarantine.

‘’HONEY I’M HOME’’

A voice shouts after forcefully kicking down the door, startling you and making you flinch. None other then Takami fucking Keigo was standing at the door, wings tucked neatly behind his back, huge grin on his face and two grocery bags in both hands.

‘’Keigo, you scared me’’ You say with an angry look before everything set in. ‘’Wait.. Keigo..’’ The light bulb in your head turned on and before your brain could process it anymore, you were flying across the room and jumping into your lovers arm.

Keigo let out a grunt at the sudden attack, but smiled at your innocent gesture. He placed the bags down and wrapped his arms around your body, spinning you around as he bear hugged you. ‘’I’ve missed you too’’ He says, kissing the top of your head. ‘’I told you’d I’d be home tonight, I hope you didn’t lose hope’’ He says as he grins down at your sheepish expression.

‘’No worries though’’ He comments before picking back up the backs he previously dropped. ‘’So, I have a whole plan in mind for tonight, which I am very excited for’’ He says before kicking the door shut and walking into the kitchen. He places the bags on the counter, ‘’So just sit back and relax and I’ll make this a date night you’ll never forget.’’

You tilt your head in curiosity, now wanting to know what this bird brain had planned, but you couldn’t help but get excited along with him. It had been a while since the two of you properly hung out with each other. ‘’So Mister ‘’I have everything planned out already’ what's on the agenda right now?

‘’Well Chickadee, we are gonna make dinner together’’ Keigo says with a bright smile, but cringe when he see’s your deadpanned expression. ‘’Don’t look at me like that dove, I promise it isn’t what you think it is’’

You saw through his desperate attempt to lie. ‘’Kiego did you plan on making chicken again’’ You say while staring him down, and when you see his head hang in shame you laugh. Stepping closer to the male you lift his head back up and press a quick kiss against his lips. ‘’It’s okay, I don’t mind having chicken for the seventh time in the row. Your cooking is actually pretty good’ You comment before stepping away, tying up your hair so you could help as well.

‘’WOO!’’ Keigo winked as he gave you finger guns, ‘’Chicken never gets old babe, thought you knew this’’ When you responded by throwing said bag of chicken at him he screeched before catching it and laughing.

You pull out your phone and play your favourite playlist, so the two of you could bop while cooking. ‘’Oh we can make cookies as dessert! It’s the one thing I can actually bake’’ You say sheepishly, sticking out your tongue when your lover nods in agreement.

With that, the two of you jammed quietly as you began the preparation of dinner.

While you were pouring the cups of flour into the big mixing bowl, you suddenly got the idea to terrorize the male who was singing quietly behind you. Scooping some in your hands, you turn around and innocently call out his name. You wait until the perfect moment. Which is when he turns around fast, a small smile on his face as he quirks his brow. He immediately see’s what you're about to do, but it's too late anyways.

You blow the white powder in your hand right at him, watching as he closes his eyes and screams. ‘’Y/N!! IT'S ON NOW’’

And while you thought this was a good idea at first, when you saw Keigo open his eyes and reveal the determination within them, you mentally cursed. And from there started the flour war, with the two of you giggling while throwing flour at each other.

It ended when you were running to throw some flour at him, but ended up instead eating shit and busting your ass on the wooden floor. Keigo, who was concerned, couldn’t help but start laughing as he helped you off, dusting the flour out of your hair. ‘’Oh gosh, we’ve made a mess of the kitchen’’

Looking around he was right, everywhere you looked there was flour, and now the two of you regretted ever touching the damn powder.

♡~♡~♡~♡~♡~♡~♡~♡~♡~

After some cleaning, and a mini dance session to a couple of songs, the food was finally ready and the two of you sat at the table eating together.

‘’Yeah there was this big spider and I was so scared, I yelled for you and then realized I’d have to get rid of it myself’’ You spoke between bites, your eyes lighting up as you continued telling the story of how a huge spider made its way inside your home.

Kiego just stared at you silently, his mind not even processing your words anymore. You were so cute when you started to ramble, he honestly missed the way you would get so into your stories. Sometimes he didn’t think you were real, you were too perfect. But he was glad you were his, because at the end of the day, he was wholeheartedly yours and he was glad you shared the sentiment.

You two continued to chat as you ate, nothing too important just random chatter to fill the silence. The two of you had so much to tell each other that you didn’t even know much time had passed. Two hours had passed by in the blink of the eye, and you didn’t notice until you glanced at the clock behind you. ‘’Wow it’s getting late’’ You comment, putting the dry dish where it was supposed to go, stepping away from the sink.

Keigo nods, ‘’Time sure does pass when you’re having fun’’ He says with a soft smile, before taking your hand in his, ‘’Come on, I have one more activity I wanna do before sleeping’’ He said as he picked up the last bag that was still sitting on the counter.

You nod, trying to get a peek inside the bag only to be met with him pulling it closer to his body. Letting out a pout, you followed as he pulled you upstairs, nearly sliping as your socks slid across the wooden stairs. ‘’Jeez, the stairs are trying to kill me’’ You complain, glad when the two of you reach the bedroom.

Kiego then whips around, ‘’You should go clean up, you know to get the flour out of your hair’’ He says nervously, and while you wanted to ask why he suddenly started acting weird, a voice inside your head told you just to listen. You simply nodded and gave him a grin, ‘’Okay I will, better not run away while I do’’ You say before going inside the bathroom, shutting the door behind you.

Keigo lets out a deep breath, his eyes drifting to the bag in his hand. ‘’Don’t fail me now’’ he whispered  to himself as encouragement.

♡~♡~♡~♡~♡~♡~♡~♡~♡~

Finally done with washing your hair, and getting the flour out of random places you stared at the door in front of you. It was obvious he was doing something out there since you heard his hard footsteps running all around the place. Yet you wanted to give him all the time he needed, and the fact that he was trying to surprise you was cute.

Suddenly, you hear music start to play, making your brows furrow. It sounded like that one song..

‘’Dove you can come out now,,’’ You heard the slight panic in his voice, which made you nervous too. Pushing those feelings aside, you open the door and slowly peak out.

‘What would I do without your smart mouth?

Drawing me in, and you kicking me out

You've got my head spinning, no kidding, I can't pin you down

What's going on in that beautiful mind

I'm on your magical mystery ride

And I'm so dizzy, don't know what hit me, but I'll be alright’

You stand in shock as the lyrics start to reach your ears, which was the song the two of you danced to when he first confessed his love to you. The next thing that almost brought you to tears was the sight in front of you.

Standing in the dim moonlight, your lover was standing proud and tall in the balcony, a nervous smile on his face. Leading up to him were red and pink rose petals, some thrown on the bed as well.

‘’Keigo’’ You whisper as you start walking in his direction, not even caring that the petals stuck to your feet as you walked.

‘My head's under water

But I'm breathing fine

You're crazy and I'm out of my mind’

You finally reach your lover, who in fact still has some flour in his hair. Yet that didn’t matter, because all you could see was his beautiful face, the way his blonde locks flowed in the wind, and how his golden eyes sparkled with an emotion you knew all too well.

Love.

‘’Hi my love, I wanted to end the night really special’’ Keigo whispers as his hands find their way to your waist, pulling you in as your arms wrapped around his neck.

’Cause all of me

Loves all of you

Love your curves and all your edges

All your perfect imperfections

Give your all to me

I'll give my all to you’

The two of you start to sway to the song, your eyes staring into his honey coloured ones. You were caught in a trance, a trance you didn’t really mind at all.

You loved this man more than anything and anyone you knew. Even when he was being a weirdo or saying unfunny jokes, you always found him entertaining. You loved him and all his imperfections. Arguments never tend to last long between you guys as of the unconditional love you had for one another.

As the song started to come to an end, you laid your head on his shoulder, embracing this moment and engraving it in your mind. Tonight was simply perfect, and while the two of you didn’t do much, you still had a blast with your boyfriend.

’I give you all of me

And you give me all of you, oh oh’

You pulled your head off his shoulder when he started to sing the final lines of the song, a genuine smile on his face. ‘’Kei-’’ As the song turns off, he suddenly lets go of your waist and bends down onto one knee, his hand reaching inside his pocket.

‘’ Ah, so here I go’’ The male says as a blush covering  his face and running up to his ears. You stand there shocked, your hands coming up to cover your mouth.

‘’Quarantine has been pretty rough haha, but it has taught me a lesson. The world is a scary place, and when this virus pops out of nowhere, I’ve noticed that anything can happen. It’s scary to think that villains aren’t are only problems, but some killer disease could sweep over and take away our happy lives’’

Keigo takes a deep breath, before putting on a nervous smile.

‘’These last few days that I’ve been apart from you made me realize that I never, NEVER, want to be away from you again. I realized that I want to spend all my time that I have left here with you. Y/N, I love you so much’’ He laughs, ‘’I’ve been nothing but happy with you, and you bring out the best in me, and without you I wouldn’t have found myself. I never thought I’d find love, If anything, I just thought I was made to be a hero and nothing more. But I’ve figured out that I can be a hero and also love you.’’

‘’You are my pride and joy, my dove, my chickadee, my beautiful lover...What I’m trying to say is, I love your last name, But I’d prefer if you’d take mine’’

You giggle at his words, tears slipping down your face. You were speechless, and honestly couldn’t even compel yourself to say anything.

‘’Y/N L/N, will you make me the happiest bird every and marry me?’’

You can’t help the shit eating grin on your face as you stare down at your lover, your best friend and the best thing that has ever happened to you. ‘’Keigo’’ You say as more tears fall down your face, your voice shaking as your brain processes everything that just happened. ‘’Yes duh! Who would say no to you’’ You yell, your bottom lip trembling as he stands up and slips the gorgeous diamond ring onto your finger, kissing the ring after he placed it.

‘’I love you’’ The two of you whisper at the same time, both of you gazing into each other's eyes. The both of you were crying, and it made it more special to see him showing so much emotion.

Keigo leaned in slowly, ‘’I’ve loved you for many years Y/N, and I’ll continue to love you until my dying days’’ He says softly before pressing his lips against yours, one hand holding your cheek and the other bringing your waist closer to him.

And with that, moonlight shined on the newly engaged couple, who still had their whole life ahead of them.

[fizzyxcustard]

Unhappy, Unholy Matrimony

Fandom: The Hobbit

Pairings: Thorin Oakenshield x Dwarf!Wife, Dwarf!Fem!Reader x Dwarf!Husband, slight Thorin Oakenshield x Dwarf!Fem!Reader

Warnings: Angst, loneliness, arranged marriage, unhappiness, slight smut mention, infidelity, no happy ending

Comments: I haven’t written a summary as it’s above in the header. It kinda took on a life of its own half way through and the ending pretty much came out of nowhere. 

If you would like to be added to my tag list, or removed, shoot me a message or an ask. Requested by a few people over the last few months, so my apologies for only just getting to it now. 

You felt swallowed by the huge gathering before you. Swirling shapes and colours were all around you, dancing to sweet, upbeat music that was being played by a group of musicians. They were all red-faced, full of alcohol, enjoying their melodies. 

The couples dancing all looked happy, fulfilled and enjoying life. It made you sigh in contemplation and you sat down at one of the long tables that was situated at the side of the huge hall. Only a few people remained seated, drinking and conversing over old times. Your husband was off somewhere, probably discussing old war conquests with his friends, something you had little interest in hearing for a hundredth time. 

You let out a sigh and let the loneliness swallow you. 

“How are you enjoying the evening?” a familiar, baritone voice came. 

You turned in your seat to see the king, Thorin, standing behind you. He’d only been crowned two months and had already brought Erebor back from ruin, turning into a flourishing kingdom of peace and prosperity. 

“M...my Lord,” you stuttered, and flew to your feet. 

“Do not stand on ceremony,” Thorin beamed. “I have been hoping I would be able to catch you.” Those eyes had always made you weak. Even in your younger days when you had served him in the Blue Mountains. Before your arranged marriage, before all of this. You fondly remembered the days when you would attend to him and then sit beside him, enjoying the sun set. You had forged a deep bond. But you had both knew then that it would always be impossible to take it any further. Your futures were not destined to entwine. 

“The queen looks beautiful tonight,” you said softly, looking at the beautiful blonde Dwarf woman who was dancing with Dwalin. She was a pleasant woman, kind and compassionate. Thorin seemed to genuinely care for her, so maybe he was happy with his life. 

“Yes,” Thorin replied, turning away. To him, it would always be you who would hold the position of the most beautiful. No one else could ever compete. “Yes, she does.” Through his eyes, the queen was attractive, but she would never be you. Even in their love making, Thorin imagined you. It took everything within him to not call out your name when he climaxed. His dreams were littered with visions of you holding a newborn bundle, a beautiful creation between you both. 

“Are you alright?” you asked, furrowing your eyebrows at the quiet king. 

“I’m sorry,” Thorin replied softly, breaking free from his thoughts. “Would you join me for a few minutes?” 

“Of course,” you told him and followed on behind the king. You noticed his eyes surveying the area where the queen was. Maybe hoping she wouldn’t notice him slip away with another woman? 

Thorin guided you down an empty hall and you instantly recognised the room he was taking you into: the council chambers. No one would have been in there at this time of night. 

Your heart was racing in excitement and anticipation. To be alone with him again, to hear his voice. 

“I need to tell you before it consumes me,” Thorin gasped, closing the doors to the chambers behind him. “It’s ripped me apart from the inside every day since I watched you get married.” 

You knew what he was about to say and dashed to him, taking his hands. “I love you, too,” you said, looking at him, your eyes filling with tears. “I’ve loved you for so long. And it’s killing me each day having to live a life that I know is a lie.” 

Thorin threw you both into a hot kiss and between gasps and pants, you let your combusting passion guide your movements. That evening, you broke your marriage vows to him you did not love, in favour of the one you did. Thorin pinned you to the table and took you, and he did not disappoint. Many times you had to bite your lip to stop yourself calling too loud and gaining unwanted attention. 

When Thorin withdrew from you, he placed his head on your chest and closed his eyes. “My heart is yours. It will be forever,” he whispered. You brushed your hand through his hair and kissed his brow. Tears fell down your cheeks as you thought on all the cold nights that awaited you. This would be the only night that you would ever feel true warmth. 

“Everyone will wonder where we have gone,” you told Thorin reluctantly. 

“Just one more moment, my love. Let me imagine it’s our wedding night and we’re happy.” 

****

You pondered for many years afterward if Mahal’s will for your life had been altered by the intentions of your father who had arranged your marriage. But the will of Mahal had broken through all the sadness and loneliness, to bring you a son. 

Your husband loved your son, doting on him. But in your heart, you knew who had sired the boy. He had black, raven hair which fell in waves and his eyes were pure ocean blue. Even when Thorin had seen him, an expression of realisation and shock washed over the king’s features. That night you shared with the king was never spoken of, nor was the true siring of your son. In your son’s features, posture and personality was a king that would never be. 

Your son and that night you shared with the king, would always remain the pinnacle of all Erebor’s treasures and the gifts that Thorin could give you. 

****

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[tarithenurse]

Stolen - 38

Fandom: MCU Pairing: Loki Laufeyson x fem!gifted!reader Content: Nothing too bad apart from a bit of angst. A/N: I forgot to post yesterday! Ask or re-blog for tag.

38. Dried Up, Tied Up, and Dead to the World

...   Reader  ...

After Thor has left, you worry what will happen if Loki gets asked about your arrival to Asgard too and his answer is different. I have to get to talk with him. But how? You try to knock on the door, asking the guard outside for help to arrange it, but you’re gruffly denied anything aside from what the king has already accepted.

Slowly, but surely, a tightness constricts your chest to ensure that your lungs can’t fill. You’ve never felt so alone before. Even your thoughts seem to echo and the door could have been a solid wall for all the world cares. They’re just out there! You can see a sliver of a smaller courtyard on the shadowy side of a wall – the buttresses arching gracefully to form a sort of colonnade from the top where the guard pass by and to the lower levels – but the main view is of the outer reaches of the city stretching into the hinterlands.

The isolation is different from the emptiness of space. There, a sort of complacency had stolen into the solitude, making it impossible to get the hopes up of someone finding you, but here...here you can see people as they are free to come and go as they want.

Where would I go? A part of you wants to return home to your little apartment and your books. Another, and quite new, side of you calls out for more space exploration – at least if it comes with a lay-over on Alfheim.

Alfheim. It had taken time before you came to appreciate your involuntary visit there and felt safe among the ethereal beauties, but eventually you had been sad to leave despite the excitement of seeing more of the universe. Friends? Not exactly, your lack of communication skills had restricted the chance of actually getting to know any of the Älfir personally. But they’d welcome me back, I’m sure.

...   Loki  ...

The fallen prince of Asgard has been reassigned to different sleeping quarters in the lowest levels together with the few servants that are unable to go home to sleep. Thankfully, he has managed to get a bunk in the farthest corner where no daylight reaches, allowing him to lower the illusion in favour of getting some sleep. Or rest, considering the innumerous thoughts occupying his mind.

His attention rapt, Loki only slowly becomes aware of the resonance suffusing the air and making the small hairs of his body stand straight as though the world has become charged with electricity. This is different. Having grown up with the God of Thunder, Loki is all too familiar with the sensation preceding a lightning strike...and this is not it. No, the recognition stems from his own skills and his mother’s teachings in the fields of magic.

As if he could smell out the source or nature of the sorcery, he turns his head slowly to take in the alteration in the flow. Exotic, like a drink from far away, it caresses his senses fleetingly without leaving anything he can pinpoint with accuracy.

Still: I’ve felt this before, haven’t I?

Closed eyes. His body swaying in the darkness to the crescendo until the melodious nature of this magic calls forth a single memory of an altar positioned between slender trees with silvery bark nearly reaching the crystals hanging from above. Gold and green in the foliage and branches, and flowers of silver, white, and more gold.

Momentarily stunned by the recollection of [Y/N]’s actions to save the High Priestess of Alfheim, it takes him longer than he will be willing to admit to understand that although the magic then and now share a fundamental power, the intention behind each is nowhere alike, and Loki has absolutely no clue what the strong flow filling the world means.

Still...he knows who is causing it.

...  Reader  ...

You are out of breath although the song was soft and slow to the naked ear. How did...? No. Never mind. You’re past caring how the words came to you or what each part meant because the meaning is clear like always.

The little tune – which you had intended to be a way to break the silence and loneliness – had grown and flared like a million beacons as you poured everything you had into it in the hopes it would reach your only allies. And you had felt a shimmer of a connection, warm and soothing for your soul, just when you couldn’t go on anymore and you had sunk onto the bed.

A fuzzy darkness is crowding your field of vision. Tired. Your limbs are too heavy to drag even a corner of the blanket over your body. Empty. A rasping pain digs into your chest. Sleep. Forever. You’re only vaguely aware of the door slamming open as nothingness welcomes you.

[spockandawe]

💘 and 👎?

Ship that is unpopular but you still like: 💘

Oh no, this is so many of them XD Well, the first thing that came to mind is that I'm still a sucker for starscream/windblade, though it's another one where I'm very picky about characterization. Do people still get hateful about how it's abusive and/or straightwashing? I hope not.

I don't think chengning ever got wider traction, which is a real shame, because I think it could be FANTASTIC. In general, splitting up the main ship seems super unpopular in cnovel fandoms to a degree that I'm not really used to? But it's usually a fun way to really break into relatively untouched fandom ground! If Wei Wuxian and Xue Yang are hooking up, yes, Lan Wangji is probably sad and that makes me sad, but what are those two up to? If cucumberplane is actually happening, I'm sure their needy demon husbands are very sad, but what are they doing in their sadness? It's so interesting!

And also. Obi-Wan has like ten million popular ships, which I had not honestly been aware of before. But what I want. And the specific flavor I want. Is Obi-Wan and Quinlan Vos maybe having the same childhood as ever, having belligerent sexual tension, maybe never doing an actual relationship, whatever. But both absconding to Tatooine, or absconding separately and meeting up later. Give Obi-wan a little companionship to break up the loneliness and someone who can understand and relate to the trauma. What I want. Is episode iv, where there are TWO weird desert wizards who accompany luke off the planet, and they are very married, and..... okay, if obi-wan Has Someone, how does that play with anakin's abandonment complex. What does it feel like, if he knows that aayla, his friend, is dead, but the man who took her as a padawan is right here, with his own old master. This ups the messy drama quotient by ten million, and I want it so bad.

Ship that you can never see happening: 👎

This............ this is hard. I might have real trouble with this one. If we're talking fandom, this just sounds like a challenge. I used to entertain myself in homestuck making weird ships into reality, which kind of warped my perspective in a way I really enjoy. Something like lan wangji and jiang cheng seems like canon could NEVER get around to that point, but I've seen fanfics executed really well (and once hatefucking gets introduced as a mechanic, all kinds of doors open asgsdfas)

There are definitely ships that I see in the wild, where I.... can understand the steps of how things could get to a certain point, but I'm not compelled, and probably never will be. They won't ever happen for me, in that sense. Liu qingge/yue qingyuan is one of those. I can see how they could get there, I'm just not invested. Jiang cheng/lan xichen is the same. In theory, I'm interested in someone convincing me. But I've tried to be convinced a few times before, and just couldn't feel it. The closest I came with yqy/lqg was in 'I Wish You Were My Husband', where it was supposed to be a relationship built on unsustainably weak foundations that quickly broke apart.

And star wars..... just by virtue of sheer size, there are a Lot. There's a lot of pairing up clones with just.... adjacent people, where there's not much in the way of characterization or narrative focus, and I've already imprinted on my favorite big-picture AU of the setting, so a single contradictory ship in isolation is going to be a hard sell. I think there's a semi-popular ship with Fox and some senator lady? Yeah, I just can't feel it, I feel more with fox/padme, and it's not even a ship i Like, I just have a bit more to work with. Or fox/wolffe, I don't feel it, I just wonder if they're getting paired up because hee hee animal names, I haven't been given an emotional core. If someone constructs a good core, great! these even aren't big ships, because fox is a minor character, but it's a running theme. Or clones get paired up with their commanding jedi, which is fine sometimes, but give me variety. I want to ship Keeli very very very much, but who IS Ima-gun Di? Why do they care about each other? I don't know and can't infer, so I drift into even more minor ships I can flesh out myself. If I can find emotional content, I'm good to go, honestly. I was skeptical about codykin, and wanted to be convinced, and found fic that did that! I haven't found that for most of these other ships.

[normal-thoughts-official]

Ok so Camille’s an asshole on that we can all agree, but I’m really tired of people in the fandom acting like she’s just your typical annoying ex and she makes poor uwu Alec feel insecure cause fuck that. Camille was 100% abusive and manipulative but I also think she was sexually abusive too I mean seeing what she did to Simon and kissing Magnus without his consent even though he was clearly uncomfortable, consent doesn’t really seem to be an issue for her-

I feel like she definitely manipulated his fear of loneliness and not being good enough, to suit her needs. Like Magnus isn’t in the mood for sex or it’s especially triggering on a certain day, either way he’s not up for it but Camille makes him do it anyway. She threatens to leave or go find someone else who can fulfill her needs or take care of her when Magnus won’t, ‘I mean does he even love her when he won’t do this one simple thing for her?’ 

So he just lets her do what she wants, even if he’s having a full blown panic attack Camille doesn’t care or she’ll just leave insulting him saying she can’t deal with this right now and leaving Magnus with no idea when or if she’ll be back. So the next time she asks he hesitates less or initiates it more even when he’s not in the mood so she won’t leave and yeah I have a lot of emotions relating to this. and now I’m thinking about how it’ll affect his future relationships, not even talking about Alec but other people - I have this headcanon where when he got away from Camille and is healing, him ragnor and Catarina live together in ragnors cottage or somewhere away from people for awhile so Magnus can slowly heal and focus on himself and unlearn Camille’s abuse with the help of his family 

But despite what this fandom says Magnus has always been a helper and a selfless person to the point of self destruction. He’s unable to prioritise his own health and he wouldn’t be able to slow down and feel the full force of the abuse he experienced cause he feels like he’ll fall apart if he does and ‘no one wants a pathetic crybaby who breaks down when someone moves their hand too fast in his direction it wasn’t even that bad he’s just exaggerating like he always does this is why Camille doesn’t love him back’ (the ‘’ parts were meant to be strikethrough to signify Magnus’ inner thoughts but that doesn’t work on asks)

And he’s scared to get in another relationship cause he doesn’t think he’d be able to speak up for himself if they turned violent or controlling, he’s scared that if they did he’d just let them so he closes himself off from people puts these walls around him and a bright smile on his face that doesn’t let anyone think there’s anything wrong. And theres so much pain going on in the world ‘they have it much worse than him anyway’ and Magnus tries to help the best he can as he always does and he’s always there for people to lean on without any reciprocation and he’s so emotionally and physically tired and he’s not sure how much longer he can take it, almost considers going back to blackfairs bridge ‘really he’d be doing the world a favour’ but theres too many bad memories and he promised his family he would try so he holds on and then he finds Raphael and that obviously doesn’t fix everything but- I was going to continue this but it’s two am in my country and honesty it’s too long already😅 sorry for the rant it’s just a lot of emotions. Im so tired of the ‘Camille’s an annoying ex who keeps getting in the way of my favourite gay ship😠’ metas and needed to let out some feelings before I explode from my hate for Camille

UGH ANON HOW DOES IT FEEL TO BE NOT ONLY A GENIUS BUT ALSO MY NEW BEST FRIEND, AN INTELLECTUAL, AND COMPLETELY RIGHT. YOU ARE SO CORRECT!!! idk if uve read my other post that i posted while i was waiting for you but we no longer have the same hat we are SHARING the hat!! i can't believe i got this ask right after i had just made that long ass rant and was in so much need to talk about this like ugh are you my guardian angel. i love you more than anyone else ive ever met

ok ok ok coherent thoughts ok i can do this. first of all THE SALT how does it feel to have vision and coherency. ppl writing camille as just an annoying ex or a bad ex or even as like "oh they both made mistakes and it ended up terrible" drives me UP THE WALL. camille was explicitly abusive, so much so that magnus CANONICALLY WAS UNABLE TO ALLOW PEOPLE TO GET CLOSE TO HIM FOR ALMOST A CENTURY. and she was shown to be abusive, both in the physical sense as you have reminded us so brilliantly and in the sense that her whole "choose me" speech? like she doesn't have to literally say the words "no one but me would ever love you" for that to be exactly what she's saying. she's obviously playing with his insecurities and putting him down while presenting her as his savior, it's CLASSIC ABUSE. she was written as such a perfect to-the-book abuser that it honestly shocks me like they did that really all they ticked all the boxes. the way she immediately launched to talk about alec's mortality too, the way she was obviously trying to make them fight and draw them apart - it wasn't a jealousy thing, it is just that she's abusive and she wants him isolated so she can toy with him and manipulate him 

EVEN SALTIER WHEN THEY MAKE IT ABOUT ALEC BEING INSECURE LIKE. especially because canonically he literally watched camille kiss magnus and didn't care, which was sexy of him because i was dreading some jealousy drama or something but instead he was just like. obviously she did it to hurt you. i only care in the sense that she's a fucking bitch. we stan! 

as for how she treated him! oof i think the same thing with the same words dioajdsaoij it always circled back to "why can't you do this for me?" in and outside of sex - i mentioned that in a conversation in the comments of my other post but i think that with camille the sexual abuse was really just an extension of the regular abuse, so they bleed together and are not really separable in that sense. at every turn, he had to prove his worth, and she used his fear of loneliness both in the sense that she amplified it and made it seem like the only way to not be lonely was to be with her, and that she gave him just enough for him not to feel desperately lonely so she could string him along. not to mention, they both always go back to how magnus supposedly "owes" her, and yes, it's because of the bridge, of course, but there's also that underlying tone of "because she put up with him and gave him affection when no one else would". even when what she did was nowhere close to real affection. so it's both the bridge and the after. she could have saved him and left, but she stayed. that's why he feels he owes her, and she will absolutely use it

AND UR SO RIGHT ABOUT MAGNUS BEING UNABLE TO PRIORITIZE HIS OWN HEALTH UGH UGH UGH UGH like he has no choice for a while because she left him fucking broken and seeing the way she treats him and the amount of shit he puts up with i can only imagine how far she had to go for him to reach a breaking point and leave her for real. but as soon as he could pretend to have himself together he just threw himself out there. and i believe that he felt guilty for having catarina and ragnor take care of him when he abandoned them because of camille - obviously that's not what happened, she manipulated him into staying away from them, made his life hell whenever he wanted to hang out with them until he no longer had the energy to put up a fight to keep in contact with the people he loves, but it's what he feels that happened, and most likely what camille herself eventually started to tell him happened once they had been pulled away enough. ("you're gonna leave me? and go back to who? your little friends who tried to pit you against me from day one? they're just gonna say 'i told you so', magnus. and why would they take you back when you left them before? when was the last time you even saw them? you chose this, you chose me, and now you're gonna come back to them and expect them to welcome you with open arms? you selfish little prick")

AND RAPHAEL!!! raphael was so important, honestly, we say that magnus didn't let anyone into his heart but obviously raphael was the exception and EXTREMELY important for his healing. it's a complicated relationship because he's sort of a father figure for rapha, and as such, he doesn't allow himself to be completely vulnerable around him, because that's not "his role". but! he was the first person whom magnus let in. and they obviously know each other deeply ("i hate to see you like this" even though magnus looked completely put together to the outside eye) and are plenty affectionate ("sweet boy", the hugs, the way rapha talked about magnus with so much love and awe in his eyes and voice) and trusting (the way raphael went to magnus' loft, not his own damn clan, when he was tortured...). i know this fandom likes to pretend that they pretend to hate each other but NO THEY DON'T they are openly caring and loving with each other fucking fight me on this

anyway, my point is that raphael was the first person he allowed himself to trust, and of course, part of that is simply because raphael was vulnerable and in need and like you said he can't just stay still when he sees someone struggling. but to care for raphael eventually had to mean to open up to him and when he welcomed raphael in, he gained a new member to his family. raphael is his kid. that's no small thing. their bond goes deep and it's extremely important because again, after camille magnus wouldn't allow people to get close to his heart, because he was scared of how they could use that against him. raphael was his first, and the only reason magnus was able to open himself up for romantic love again (which was an extra step, not because romantic love is more important or deeper, but because it's specifically the kind of love that camille used against him, and thus it makes him even more scared) was because he had already been relearning trust and platonic love with rapha

rapha did him good!!! there's a reason he calls him "sweet boy" okay. and rapha cares about him and he NOTICES WHEN HE'S IN A BAD SHAPE EVEN THROUGH ALL OF MAGNUS' WALLS and he specifically didn't want magnus involved with the camille drama even when it had obviously gotten out of hand because he wanted to keep him safe and away from her!!! i want to be shot in the face!!! they love each other so much! fuck!

and also that implies that raphael knows about camille which means he might be the first person who met magnus post-camille and heard the story, which means that he might be (and probably is) the first person who was never involved that magnus opened up about this to. if that ain't some powerful and important shit i don't know what is. because part of abuse is that you can't talk about it - there's this sense of shame and guilt both from staying and from not staying more, especially because magnus canonically still feels like he owes her... aaaaa

this answer is all over the place im sorry but my point is you are correct, camille is a textbook abuser not just a shitty ex, she fucked up his head and made him unable to open up for a long time, and the first person that helped him break those walls was raphael and they LOVE EACH OTHER VERY MUCH AND DEEPLY thank you for your attention

[rhinklibrary]

College Rhink Top Fics

Hi Readers! We’re so excited for our first official list! This week is one of the most popular genres in our fandom - College Rhink. 

Please note these are all based on the dates of completion and/or the last update. While most are completed or are WIPs, you might come across an uncompleted fic. This list also does not include writings exclusively on Tumblr, or other sites, so please send us those recs!

Below the cut, you will find the top five kudos’d fics from the years 2015-2020. At the end you will also find our librarians’ recommendations. 

Happy reading! 

2015

#1 I’m Not Scared, Man, You’re Scared - thenthekneehits - [Teen and Up] - Chapters: 1 - Words: 3122

College, Cohabitation, Fluff without Plot, Fluff, Cuddling & Snuggling, Awkward Boners, Sharing a Bed

In which two stupid boys turn weak, there is a spider, and no cuddling.

#2 Pierced - Isra/ @mythical-rhink -Rhink - [Explicit] - Chapters: 1 - Words: 5301

College, First time, Piercing, play piercing, Blood, D/s, Kink, BSM, Alcohol, Profanity

Rhett’s in college and wants to try something new, and of course he’s going to bring Link along for the ride.

#3 Rewritten - Chellan_Nicollares - [Explicit] - Chapters: 8 - Words: 16,040

Alternate Universe - College/University, Pining, Angst, Jealousy, Metafiction

If you have the power to rewrite reality, how far would you go for love? Rhett has already answered the question, but his actions might lead to his undoing within the very same day. 

#4 Encounter - Chellan_Nicollares - [Teen and Up] - Chapters: 10 - Words: 9280

Alternate Universe - Past lives, Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Strangers, Transmigration, Supernatural Elements

This is a prologue to their life-long love and companionship. A mysterious encounter on a hiking trip gave Rhett some new perspectives. What's meant to be is meant to be.

#5 Grown Up Giggles - thenthekneehits - [General Audiences] - Chapters: 1 - Words: 269

College, Slice of Life, Growing Up, Self Confidence Issues, Cohabitation

Prompt: “I like your laugh.”

2016

#1 Whale, whale, whale - rhincoln/ @bloodbros (orphaned) - [Explicit] - Chapters: 4 - Words: 25,602 

Friends With Benefits, Epic Friendship, Hand Jobs, Alternate Universe - College/University, Mutual Pining, Masturbation, Blow Jobs, First Time, Semi-Public Sex

During the day, it’s all sunny beaches and warm touches and the ocean. At night, strange noises can be heard from Rhett’s bunk. And why did Rhett bring a stuffed Shamu to the beach resort anyway?

#2 What Do You Want Me To Say? - @remembertherandler - [Mature] - Chapters: 1 - Words: 1311

First Kiss, Kissing, I’m dead move, rhink, young rhink, college!rhink, Light Angst, Cute, Touching

So you’re horsing around with your roommate in your dorm room...big deal? Someone saw you? Oh…

#3 Slight Altercations - notasponsor - [Teen and Up] - Chapters: 1 - Words: 4790

College AU, Sorta Enemies to Lovers, Look they just bicker a lot, and they don’t know each other rly before the fic, Studying then cuddling, Fluff

Link glares, “You’re insufferable.” “No, I’m Rhett.” “Asshole.”

#4 Enough - chaoticliv - [Teen and Up] - Chapters: 1 - Words: 2296

Angst, Teenagers, Pining, Pining Rhett, College, Childhood, First Kiss, Kissing, Rhett POV

They were best friends. That was always enough for Rhett.

#5 The Laws of Thermodynamics - MythicallySnappy/ @RatchetRhink - [Mature] - Chapters: 1 - Words: 2819

Recreational Drug Use, Alcohol, Fluff, First Kiss, College, Artistic interpretation of math and what an industrial engineering degree actually entails

Link finally lets loose in the midst of exam season, and Rhett’s smiling and no matter how hard Link tries, he can’t calculate the meaning behind it.

2017

#1 A Perfect Arrangement - rhincoln/ @bloodbros (orphaned) - [Explicit] - Chapters: 15 - Words: 93,859

Fake/Pretend Relationship, Sharing a Bed, Best Friends, Alternate Universe - College/University, Homophobia, Internalized Homophobia, Public Display of Affection, Pining, rhink, Masturbation, Jealousy, Drunken Shenanigans, Angst, Mutual Pining, Mutual Masturbation, Porn, Idiots in Love, Fluff, Friends With Benefits, Sickfic, Anal Sex, Anal Fingering, Grinding, Sex Tapes

In order to win the body and soul of Miss Perfect, a girl they think they’re obsessed with, Rhett and Link figure they first have to win the keys to the coolest place on campus - something that is offered to them out of the blue, with only a single catch: only couples could get to move into the lush apartment. Rhett and Link would do anything for the space, for the girls - even pretend that they’re romantically involved. As true best friends, together they start off on the ambitious quest for love. What happens is its own story.

#2 No Touching! - rhincoln/ @bloodbros (orphaned) - [Explicit] - Chapters: 1 - Words: 5701

Friends to Lovers, Alcohol, Jealousy, No Homo, College, Semi-Public Sex, Rhink

Gregg decides to to take the duo out to a gay clup for a lark. It’s all fun and games, until Rhett thinks it isn’t. (In other words, until Link gets hit on.)

#3 Writing Love On Your Skin - @magicbubblepipe - [Teen and Up] - Chapters: 1 - Words: 3723

Pining Rhett McLaughlin, Injured Link, College, Rhink, Fluff, caretaker Rhett

When Rhett and Link share a bed, there’s a certain game they play.

#4 Lincoln In Distress - meirenyu/ @mei-ren-yu - [Explicit] - Chapters: 1 - Words: 3577

College!rhink, Butt Plugs, Rimming, Anal Fingering, Internalized Homophobia, Fluff, First Time

Rhett’s awoken from a great dream to find Link in dire straits in the top bunk of their dorm.

#5 Over the Phone - tvmoviemaniac/. @galacticnocturne - [Teen and Up] - Chapters: 14 - Words: 28,044

Rhink, Alternate Universe - College/University, College AU, Alternate Universe, Teen Romance, Depression, Awkwardness, Loneliness, Anxiety, Bisexual Male Character, Bisexuality, Mention of abuse, Homophobia, First Time, Sexual Encounter

Link Neal, a sophomore in college, finds a remedy to his existential problems and depression in an unlikely relationship he forms over the phone with a stranger - Rhett McLaughlin

2018

#1 Lovers in the Backseat - Matrimus - [Explicit] - Chapters: 1 - Words: 4883

Alternate Universe - College/University, Public Hand Jobs, Link is a little shit, Exhibitionism

Rhett offering his lap as a seat had sounded like a good idea at the time. It doesn’t take long for Link to exploit it.

#2 Forget Me Not - Matrimus - [Teen and Up] - Chapters: 1 - Words: 3404

First Kiss, Temporary Amnesia, Internalized Homophobia, College

After breaking his pelvis in a snowboarding accident, Link suffers from temporary amnesia. He knows he’s in hospital, knows he’s hurt his hip - and knows Rhett is the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen. 

#3 The Naked Truth - @missingparentheses - [Explicit] - Chapters: 8 - Words: 22,786

College, Fraternities & Sororities, Light Angst, Dorm Room Sexytimes

After a night of drinking at a frat party, Rhett and Link wake up naked in bed together with no memory of what happened the night before. They set out to piece together the details of the night and see if they can find out what happened, how they feel about it, and if they want it to happen again.

#4 Hungry Ghosts - MythicallySnappy/RatchetRhink - [Explicit] - Chapters: 7 (Incomplete) - Words: 20,241

College, Underage Drinking, Alcohol, Boys Being Idiots, Homophobia, Internalized Homophobia, Explicit Sexual Content, Fluff, Angst, Smut, the holy trinity of fanfic

It’s the summer after freshman year and Rhett and Link are back at home in Buies Creek. An uncomfortable experience at a party flips Rhett’s world upside down and Link is there to help him build a new one

#5 Sofa Symphony - @santamonicayachtclub - [Explicit] - Chapters: 1 - Words: 2321

College, Couch Sex

“C’mon, bo,” Link urges, husky-voiced. “Do me like you’re paying for it.”

2019

#1 Live Connection - @linkslipssinkships - [Explicit] - Chapters: 115 (Incomplete) - Words: 87,022

Porn Watching, Camboy!Link, Risky Behavior, Alternate Universe - College/University, Modern AU, Short Chapters, Stream of Consciousness, First Person, Loss of Virginity, Mutual Pining, Angst, Long Distance Relationship, Sex Work, Consenusl sex work, Sex work related slurs, Anal Sex, handjobs, Jealousy, Mentions of Infidelity, First Relationship

Rhett’s just a college kid looking for some good porn. Link is a camboy looking for loyal fans and good money. When Link goes live, the pair feels an interesting connection.

#2 Untethered - Its_mike_kapufty/ @its-mike-kapufty - [Explicit] - Chapters: 32 - Words: 109,097

Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, College, Slow Burn, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Alternate Universe - Demons, demon!Rhett and human!Link, Vomiting, Psychologists & Psychiatrists, Master/Servant, Praise, Biting, Oh No He’s Hot, Marijuana, Drinking, Mutual Masturbation, Supernatural Illnesses, Churches & Cathedral, Abuse of Authority, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Vigilantism, Blow Jobs, Police, Guns, Anal Sex, Hearteyes Rhett, Obsessive Behavior, Matter of Life and Death, Blood and Gore, Near Death, Happy Ending

Link would’ve never guessed that the price of fucking up his entire life is approximately 5¢.

#3 Lucidity - Its_mike_kapufty/ @its-mike-kapufty - [Explicit] - Chapters: 31 - Words: 103, 027

Porn With Plot, College, Sensory Deprivation, Ice Play, Frottage, Mutual Masturbation, Stuffed Toys, Scent Kink, Phone Sex, Blow Jobs, Reading Aloud, Intercrural Sex, Sex Toys, Double Penetration, Glory Hole, Protectiveness, Clothed Sex, Anal Sex, Babbling, Feeding Kink, Sex Toys Under Clothing, Under-Table Blow Jobs, Fight Sex, Orgams Delay/Denial, Lingerie, Multiple Orgasms, Humiliation, Free Use, Rimming, Animal Traits, Marijuana, Public Sex, Pool Sex, Bladder Control, Milking Machine, Smoking, Angst, Exhibitionism, Clone Sex, Love Confessions 

Rhett doesn’t know why this is happening. Thank Goodness Link doesn’t know it’s happening at all.

#4  Everyone but Me - Its_mike_kapufty/ @its-mike-kapufty - [Explicit] - Chapters: 11 - Words: 46,790

Alternate Universe - College/Universe, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Jock!Rhett, Internalized Homophobia, House Party, Drinking, Cigarettes, Sthenolagnia, Kissing, Blow Jobs, Bars and Pubs, Social Media, Pining, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Jealousy, Denial of Feelings, Piercings, Bets & Wagers, Hurt/Comfort, Light Angst, Heart-to-Heart, Nude Photos, Masturbation, Basketball, Post-Game(s), Marijuana, Vomiting, Concerts, Slow Dancing, Slurs, Protectiveness, First Time, Anal Sex, Self-Doubt, Pride Celebration

Rhett can fit in anywhere, make small talk with anyone. He’s one of NC State's best players, after all. If he can’t dazzle strangers with his records and status--if he’s not the perfect example of the masculine standard--then who is he?

#5 The Elephant in the Dorm - @goodmythicalghoulboy - [Explicit] - Chapters: 1 - Words: 4940

College, Masturbation, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Mutual Masturbation, Porn Watching, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Barebacking, Comeplay, Dirty Talk, Spanking, (just the teeniest bit of it though), Boundaries? What are boundaries?, Daddy Kink

Rhett thinks he’s finally got an hour to himself to really take his time and indulge in a little self love. He’s sorely mistaken, but it all works out for the best.

2020 so far

#1 Big Man on Campus - @fanbabble & @mythicaliz - [Explicit] - Chapters: 16 - Words: 41, 973

1990s, Dorms, Roommates, Alternate Universe - College/University, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Sharing a Bed, Strangers, Basketball, Arguing, Homophobia, Internalized Homophobia, Homophobic Language, Angst but it’s gonna get better, Alcohol, Underage Drinking, Body Shots, Masturbation, Frottage, bed sharing, Cuddling & Snuggling, Forbidden Love, I’m dead move, Mutual Masturbation, Oral Sex, Anal Fingering, Voyeurism, Public Blow Jobs, Gay Bar, Jealousy, Coming Out, Anal Sex, First Time, Shower Sex, Semi-Public Sex

1996. NC State University. Syme Dorm, Room 24. Two roommates with very different dreams. One wants to play basketball and make his family proud. The other wants to make movies and explore his new found freedom. But there’s a problem… there is only one bed!

#2 The Roles We Play - sassandpanache/ @sass-and-panache - [Mature] - Chapters: 16 - Words: 31,238

Alternate Universe - College/Universe, Theatre, Basketball!Rhett, TheaterKid!Link, Enemies to Friends, to Lovers

Rhett’s failing his theater class so in order to save his grade, he joins the crew of NC State’s fall production of ‘Cat on a Hot Tin Roof’. What he doesn’t realize is that the next month will change his life.

#3 Tell Me About It - Its_mike_kapufty/ @its-mike-kapufty - [Explicit] - Chapters: 1, Words: 7261

Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Sex Toys, Masturbation, Phone Sex, mentions of internalized shame

One of the biggest drawbacks of being incomplete without your best friend is the (very intense) fear of missing out.

#4 Taking Turns - @apparentlynotreallyfinnish - [Explicit] - Chapters: 1, Words, 2465

Alternate Universe - College/University, Friends With Benefits, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Pining

It didn’t take them long after starting college to get to this. One night of too many drinks and too few enthusiastic sexual partners available had lead to an awkward, fumbling experimentation in Rhett’s bunk. Rhett’s not sure anymore which one of them brought it up first, but somehow, in their inebriated and horny state, they’d realized that they could easily help each other out.

#5 Learning to Crawl - DarlingLo/ @darling-lo [Explicit] - Chapters: 5/6 (WIP) - Words: 33,081

College, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Friends to Lovers, Alternate Universe - College/University, First Time, First Meetings, Angst, Enemies to Friends, Sexual Tension, Internalized Homophobia

It took Link four hours to learn his roommate’s name. And those four hours are all that was needed for him to absolutely hate him. 

[ddaenggtan]

forever rain | knj | m

Being dead isn't anything exciting. Just a lot of walking the same halls of the same apartment day after day after day. Things change when the new tennant arrives, though. Kim Namjoon isn't anything you could have expected; not the way he's so careful and gentle with his plants because he breaks so many other things, not the way his friends joke that he's psychic because you refuse to let him get in the face one time, and certainly not the way he comes home after literal months spent moving things away from table edges for him and announces that he knows he's being haunted and he has some questions for you. You didn't know ghosts could fall in love, but he makes you feel alive again, like you're standing in the rain while thunder crashes around you. You should've known nothing good would come of falling in love with someone living, though. You should've known that heartbreak was the only way this could end...that the rain doesn't last forever. 

part of the Love Yourself Collab, please please please go check out the other fics. Everyone involved is so freaking talented and I have been vibrating out of my skin with how excited I’ve been to read all of these. 

pairing | kim namjoon x reader (unspecified gender, even!)

word count | 18.8k | cross posted to ao3

genre/warnings | ghost!reader, slight fluff, hard angst, literally the most angst ever it gets fluffy for a bit but litERALLY this is an angst fic, major character death, unprotected sex (idk what the etiquette for ghost sex is but you should still wrap it before you tap it fam), depictions of terminal illness (v mild), mentions of blood (several, but not graphic), major character death, allusions to violence, namjoon is a klutz whats new, depictions of terminal illness, major character death, i added that tag three times pls dont read this if you aren’t comf with mcd bc i literally tagged it three times so y’all would definitely see it, also probably have some tissues ready bc i cried while writing it so 

a/n | this is, to date, the saddest thing i have ever written in my entire fucking life. formal apologies to this joon bc oh my god you poor soul. i’m not kidding when i say you might cry, because i’m a big baby wuss and cried while writing the fucking outline when i first decided to write this for the collab so like......rip my own heart. i was really honored when i was approached about the LYA collab, bc like,,,,,mE? WHAT? and i was really nervous because i’ve never been part of any collabs in any fandom ever, and to have to do something like forever rain and mono as a whole justice, like,,,,,,, *screaming* y’know?? so i went on mono lockdown and just had the whole thing on repeat and was like “alright. what emotions does this make me feel.” and i eventually settled on the loneliness and isolation that he expresses, and feeling like no one understands what you’re going through, but that ultimately the album as a whole and forever rain give off this feeling of like. things get better, you’re not as alone as you feel, and you just gotta get through the bad stuff to find the good stuff. basically i just got really in my feels about it and was like ‘lets make myself cry ahahaha’ and,,,i dID i cried several times while planning and writing and editing bc im a Soft Bitch and don’t read much angst for that exact reason lmao. so buckle tf up y’all, this a helluva ride!! 

Of all the things you'd heard about death, all the different possibilities that existed in the world, the one thing you hadn't been prepared for was the boredom. You hadn't been prepared for any of it, really, too surprised by your own demise to plan at all, but even if you'd been able to, you don't think that this is what you would've counted on. An eternity - or however long ghosts existed - of being stuck in the same studio apartment you'd lived in when you died. The same walls, the same floor, the same view out the only window of the alley beside the building. It's boring and lonely and boring.

You've found more creative ways to entertain yourself as time passes. First, you started by figuring out just what being a ghost meant. You can't really communicate with anyone, haven't figured out how to make sure everything you say is heard, but you can manipulate objects pretty easily these days. The most difficult thing is becoming fully corporeal - completely visible and able to interact with things at the same time. It's hard enough to be visible, and you aren't really sure what the point of it would be when it would just scare whoever's living in your apartment; that's the last thing you want to do, run them off when they're the best source of amusement you've found.

You won't lie, you were a little offended when the first tenants moved in after you. It was difficult to watch your things get packed up and moved out by your friends, hard to lose all of the little things you loved in your apartment, like the shitty bead curtain you'd gotten as a gag gift or the photo collage of all of your loved ones. It's frustrating to not know how they're all doing these days; the one time you got brave enough to fuck with a laptop to check on them, you nearly broke the thing, and you haven't tried since. Still, it seemed cathartic for them to clear out your apartment, and it was a bittersweet sight, but you tried to focus on the positive side of it.

And then the couple moved in.

Not only did they fuck like rabbits - which is something you're going to stay pissed about, because there's no satisfaction to be had by you anymore, and it's the one thing you can think of that would be endlessly entertaining - but the couple was also grossly obnoxious. They had zero respect for your apartment , or you, and while one could argue that they didn't actually know you were there, it still made the sting of losing your entire life that much worse. You spent you don't know how many nights hovering awkwardly in the bathroom while they fucked, would constantly wander in to see them going at it on the kitchen counter at ass o'clock in the morning, and once you came in to see them tossing actual literal eggs at the ceiling like the absolute fucking weirdos they were.

So, naturally, you got a little mad. How dare they treat your apartment like that? They had no respect, but they were going to learn it real quick if they were going to live there with you, whether they wanted to or not.

They didn't last long after the first night of slamming cabinets and squealing hinges, but the thrown picture frame of their family was the conclusive end to their stay.

There have been others, since then. They haven't all been terrible, not like that first couple, but most of them have been sub-par roommates, and if you decided early on that if the rest of your immortal life is going to be locked in one shitty apartment with the absolute worst view in the city - because no one wants to see the drunken hookups and potential body dumps that take place in that alley - then you're at least going to share said apartment with someone nice to exist with.

You release a heavy sigh, staring at where your hand disappears through the shower wall. You've taken to testing the boundaries of the apartment again; you already know what the result will be, learned in the first few hours that you're stuck here, but you can't help trying when you get really bored. You just got distracted fucking around with the pipes in the meantime, because you're literally too bored to even focus. It's part of why you miss the last tenants so much, because you weren't ever really bored with them around.

A single mother and her two kids, crammed into a much-too-small apartment because it was all they could afford, and they were the light of your un-life. One a budding teenager that wrote angsty poetry who loved your trick of making things float around, and one an adorable toddler who adored playing peekaboo with you and coloring, and a mom that was too busy to notice anything out of the ordinary. It was like having a family again, made you feel useful when you could pull the meat out of the freezer for her to make dinner with or scratch a quick 'do your homework' on a steamy bathroom mirror. It was fun and it made being dead that much more bearable.

You really should've known that letting the toddler draw the two of you would be a bad idea, especially since there were several artistic liberties taken. It's not your fault the kid thought you'd look cool with fangs and bloody holes instead of eyes and claws that reached the floor. It was art, it was supposed to be a little different from reality. Still, you can't blame her for seeing the picture of her kid and 'my new best friend' and immediately calling the landlord. And a priest.

So, perhaps you gave the apartment a bit of a reputation. Maybe it's been a couple of months since the mom moved out and took your two buds with her. There might be the possibility that you've been the slightest bit salty about losing your friends and you've been extra-ghost-y whenever someone comes by to view the place in an attempt to make yourself feel a little better. Can you really be blamed for that? You just want a decent damn roommate for your life after death, and if that means putting the potentials through a little bit of a test, then so be it. You only feel a little bit bad for the landlord.

The creak of the front door pulls you from your thoughts, and the echo of a voice makes you narrow your eyes. Your first instinct is to slam some windows to scare off whoever's in your apartment, but you repress the urge. You'd die of boredom if you could die again, and whoever this is could provide a few hours' entertainment at the least.

You pop your head through the bathroom wall to see what's going on, and wow , who let an actual giant into your apartment? Fucking with the pipes could definitely wait for this guy.

"I know it's last minute, yeah," He says into the phone that's held carefully between his cheek and shoulder. His arms are loaded down with boxes and he's angled away from you just enough that you can't see his face, but he's tall and broad and wearing what looks like the world's comfiest sweater, and you want to badly to wrap yourself up in him. "But you know Joon needs the help. Don't pretend you aren't constantly willing to put off your thesis, I know for a fact that you went out to look at stationery with Tae last week, and everyone knows that's the most boring thing on the planet."

He's quiet, listening to the soft crackle of a voice from the other end. You slide through the wall completely, hovering as close as you dare to try and hear what the other person is saying. Tall, Broad, and Comfy scoffs.

"He can stare at one sheet of paper for at least ten minutes, Yoongi. Do I need to remind you of the time he spent an entire fucking hour debating which set of holiday scrapbook to buy because, and I quote, 'this one has the really nice rose pattern on it that would look great with the invitations, but, oh, look at the pinstripes in this one!'" His voice morphs into what you guess is an approximation of whoever Tae is, and you laugh at the high-pitched, nasally tone.

Tall and Broad spins, eyes narrowing as he looks around the room, and fuck , he's literally gorgeous. You've never seen someone more attractive in your life or your death and it would probably knock the wind out of you if you actually had breath. Comfy McGorgeous turns back around and sets the stack of boxes in the corner, continuing his tirade about Tae and stationery while simultaneously trying to talk Yoongi into coming, you assume, to help Joon move. You don't know who any of these people are, but they're already proving to be the most entertaining bunch that's ever graced these walls.

The door to your apartment flies open, making both you and Boyfriend Material whip your head around.

"Christ, Jin, you couldn't hold the fucking door open for us?" Someone grunts. Beauty Von Softness - or, Jin, as you should probably refer to him - winces and strides over to do just that as two more guys stagger in with a couch suspended between them. The second they're in the door they drop it to the ground and flop onto it, panting and sweaty.

"Listen, I was busy trying to get our resident hermit out of his cave to help us carry some of this shit," Jin spits back. "And you all know what it's like getting him out and about."

"Did you tell him that there's pizza after we're done? Because I've found that food is the best motivator for him," the guy closest to the door says. His hair is soft-looking and long and you wish you could pet it.

The other guy, the one who cursed Jin out and has the softest pink hair you've ever seen, laughs. "Jeongguk, you always think the best motivator is food."

"Well, yeah, because it is."

"For you, maybe. Other people require actual rewards."

"But food is a reward," Jeongguk mutters into the fabric of the couch. Jin tsks and smacks As Yet Unnamed on the back of the head.

"You're lucky I hung up on him when you bombarded your way into this place, or he'd definitely not come help us," Jin says as he leans against the back of the couch.

Unnamed starts to say something else but is cut off by someone running straight into the end of the couch. They all shoot to their feet, spouting apologies as the three of them maneuver the couch into the apartment properly.

"Sorry, sorry, Jimin distracted us from properly finishing our job," Jeongguk says quickly. He looks to the stranger with a small apologetic smile, and you're pretty sure if it were humanly possible, there would be actual literal stars in his eyes.

"Oh, it's okay, Jeonggukkie. I should've been looking where I was going." New Challenger walks straight towards where you stand, and you realize seconds before it's too late that he is not aware there is a massive stack of boxes in his path. Instinctively, you shove them to the side with your foot. Tall And Oblivious sets his boxes down without any trouble, none the wiser about any of it, and the three near the couch are too busy bickering in hushed whispers to have noticed you doing anything.

The newcomer straightens and turns to look at them all with a bright smile, and you think you might actually see The Light in the way his cheeks dimple. If you thought the other three were beautiful - which they are, no doubt about that, you're seriously wondering why the hell a bunch of supermodels are moving stuff into your apartment - then this guy is easily an Actual Fucking God or something. His brown hair is soft and shiny, his smile is warmer than the sun, and you're fairly positive that for the first time since you died, you feel goosebumps along your arms.

"Seriously, Namjoon, we should've realized you'd be up soon. You stay, start unpacking while we go get the rest of the furniture." Jimin shoves Jeongguk out the door while he's speaking, ignoring the taller's complaints, and Jin just shakes his head at the sight.

"Yoongi'll be here soon, he's finishing up another draft of his thesis. Hobi and Tae are stopping to get the pizzas and then they'll be here, too." Jin's voice is calmer than it was Jimin and Jeongguk, more soothing, and it makes you curious. Not only because of the tone change, but because you know Hobi, he owns the building and is the one who rented you the apartment when you first moved in. One of your favorite things to do is scare him when he comes by to make sure everything’s ready for a viewing.

"What? No, I said I was gonna pay for pizzas!" Namjoon looks distinctly more upset about this than someone should over not having to pay for pizza, at least in your mind, and it only makes you more curious.

"Yeah, but you also just moved out of your old apartment because it was too expensive, and had like an hour to load everything into a truck, so you're gonna let their trust fund asses pay for pizzas. We're seven adult men, and Guk could eat an entire horse and still be hungry. I'm not letting you pay for that."

Silence hangs in the apartment for a while before Namjoon gives a soft thanks to Jin. They share a smile before Jin makes his way back out. You follow each step, shadowing him all the way to the door before you're stopped. You lean your entire body forward, struggling against the invisible barrier keeping you inside, and the force of it nearly slams you back into the wall when you sag in defeat.

You aren't sure why you try anymore, but you know yourself well enough to admit that you're not going to stop until you can at least make it to the hallway.

Whatever you expected Namjoon to be like as a roommate, however unknowing he is about the situation, you don't think you could've guessed what he's actually like.

Out of the seven boys you saw the day he moved in, he's the only one living there. Not a complete surprise, considering it's a studio apartment, but you remember when there were nine people living there at one point, and there was barely room for anyone to breathe even if it had been pretty consistently amusing. Still, for one person, he's got a ton of stuff, and it's a shock it all fits. His bed is massive and comfortable and the best place to lay during the day because it's shoved between the brick half-wall and the large windows that take up one wall. The area's supposed to be for a dining table, you think, but you'd had your bed there, too, and the familiarity is nice.

His couch is small and old but manages to fit five of them, and it's a pleasantly jarring difference from the coffee table that looks like - and might actually be - an old steamer trunk. The exposed brick wall you love holds his mounted TV, a feat that took Jeongguk and Yoongi a solid hour and a half because they kept stripping the screws, and it's got one of those 8-cubicle bookshelf things under it that stores a frankly obnoxious amount of books.

He's got mugs for days, an adorable if odd collection of figurines and mini-statues scattered around the apartment, a strange obsession with some reclaimed wood shelf he's got hanging above his bed, but the absolute highlight of it all is The Wall.

It took them three hours to get it installed and set up the way he wanted, between the placements and the thick wooden shelf they’re perched on with supports and a small safety bar along the edge to keep them from falling off, but along the entire windowed wall and partway after it turns the corner runs a long shelf absolutely covered in plants. There are some elsewhere, like the one he keeps hanging from the bathroom ceiling and the couple in the kitchen, but most are on The Wall. Each one is in its own special pot, each a unique color with a name painted carefully along it, and most of them look half-dead. They're all distinct and unique from each other and they all surely have different needs and ideal conditions, but you'd never guess because Namjoon is so wholly committed to them all. He takes time every day to water them and prune them if he needs to, he checks on them constantly. He even reinforced the safety bar for the ones that sit beside his bed, so there was less chance he'd accidentally knock them around while sleeping.

It's fascinating, watching him tend to them. He's so careful and gentle, with absolute precision in every moment. He cares for his plants the way some people would care for a pet or a child. He doesn’t believe any of them are past caring for, slowly nurses all of them back to health and frequently turns up with more he’s saved from some department store. The most endearing thing, though, you decide as you sit curled among the haphazard blankets of his bed and watch, is the talking. It's every day, for as long as it takes him to care for the plants, and it's the cutest thing in the world. He's talking to some succulent as you just stare at him, filling the comfortable silence of the apartment with his soft, soothing voice, and you wish he could hear you when you talk back to him.

"I know they mean well, but at some point, I've just gotta live my own life, y'know? I can't study something just because everyone expects me to, and I can't pursue some dream just because people think I'd be good at it. I've gotta do what's right for me, don't I?" His tone is positive and bright, a contrast to the gloomy sky that casts shadows across the apartment.

You float over, hovering beside him to look at the plant he's lovingly stroking with his thumb. It's in a pretty periwinkle pot, with the name 'Mang' painted in careful but shaky black handwriting. It's not your favorite - that's the one in the bathroom that hangs over its light blue bowl, a quickly scrawled 'Koya' on the bottom - but it seems to be one of Namjoon's personal favorites based on how often he talks to it specifically.

"I think it's nice you do things for yourself," You tell him. He doesn't react, unable to hear you, but it's nice to hear your own voice after so long. You slide one of the plants - Chim, in a small yellow bowl - to the side and away from his elbow, and he doesn't notice. "You know yourself better than they do. You should trust yourself."

He keeps mumbling to Mang, something about everyone following their own dreams and doing what they need over what people want or expect, when you lay your hand over his.

Thunder cracks through the sky and the first raindrops hits the window as your non-existent skin hits his, and it's the most real thing you've felt in a long time. It's as if the scent of ozone and electricity is in the apartment itself, crackling in your hair and filling your nose with the overpowering scent of the sweet summer rain. You can almost feel the water hit your skin, the way the wind whips at your hair, and it's so intoxicating that you almost miss the sharp inhale from the man beside you.

He's not looking at his plant when you look up, but instead at the window in front of the two of you. You glance at it, and for a fraction of a second, you can see yourself in the reflection. The glimpse has you jerking towards it before you can stop yourself, desperate to know if something has changed. You haven't seen your reflection since you died, not in the mirror or the window or the toaster, and maybe, just maybe, it means something's changed.

Your hand stops against the glass of the window as you reach forward. You can't feel the cool of it under your palm, but it's no less a barrier for you as it would be for Namjoon. Something in you breaks as you watch the raindrops race each other to the ground.

"Ah, I forgot the forecast called for rain today," he mutters, eyes focused on the lightning that streaks by. He doesn't react when your fist slams against the glass, nor when you let out the scream that's been building in you for however long it's been since you died. You're so close, not even a hair's breadth from feeling something new yet familiar for the first time in so long, and you can't. You're still stuck in these four walls, unable to even reach the air outside.

You just want to feel the rain again.

You move dejectedly away from the window, ignoring the way Namjoon shivers as you pass. The temperature in the apartment has dropped considerably, you think, between the storm and your own mood. You can't tell, really. You haven't felt warm or cold or hungry or anything since you died that isn't the oppressive loneliness of life after death.

A dry sob tears itself from your throat and you hurry to hide in the bathroom as Namjoon turns to look around him. He mumbles something you can't hear and after a few minutes, he returns to tending to his plants, leaving you to your tear-less cries in peace.

It becomes quickly apparent to you that Namjoon should really have a roommate, if only to save him from himself. It takes a few weeks for you to realize this, but luckily he seems to narrate his life as he goes through it - which is overwhelmingly adorable to you, and you refuse to acknowledge that - and that means that you hear it every time he goes, "Ah, Namjoon, be more careful next time," or "Oh, shoot, that's not, fuck, I gotta buy more eggs now." It's painful to watch, even for you, and at some point, you just couldn't take it anymore. No one else is around to help, but someone needs to you, and clearly the universe means for you to be that someone.

It's a full-time job, protecting him from himself. You've saved countless mugs, pushing them farther away from the edges of counters and tables, and been just in time to shove bowls or vases an inch over so that his elbows glide harmlessly past them. It's almost exhausting, if you could get tired you would, but it's worth it, you think, as you catch the bookshelf under the TV as it tilts. You slide it gently to the floor, glad that Namjoon is distracted by how close he came to losing a toe to notice.

Because that's the other thing about this tree of a man: he's the most oblivious person you've ever fucking seen. It doesn't matter what it is you do, whether it's bouncing his spray bottle of water so it doesn't break on the hard floor or shake the counters so that the knife he's about to drop on his fucking hand falls the other way, he doesn't see a single fucking thing. You'd think he was blind if he wasn't so attentive to the way his plants grow. He notices nothing and you're glad for it because you really aren't sure what he would do if he knew you were going around haunting him just to keep him alive. You just want to help, want to keep the soft smile he wears more often around for as long as possible.

You don't dare to look into why you want that, too afraid of what you might find there.

It's also just fun to watch him and his friends, relaxed and unreserved. You never had many friends when you were alive, just a small handful that you really truly loved and whom you miss every day. Watching these seven boys fills you with nostalgia and a strange sense of joy because they really are some of the funniest people you've ever been around.

Like now, with four of them sprawled on the couch while Jeongguk and Hoseok make themselves comfortable leaning against the bookshelf under the TV - which has been bolted to the wall since it almost broke Namjoon's foot - and Namjoon watches them all from his bed since it's the only other place to sit. There are beer bottles scattered around and decorating the half-wall that separates the bed from the room proper, everyone is varying levels of drunk, and you're curled up close to Namjoon, leaning against the wall so you can stop him from knocking over any of the bottles nearby because you know him too well at this point.

"I'm just saying, I don't understand why they made him so over-powered in the new movies, because he's supposed to be some kid from Brooklyn! Giving him the high-tech suit essentially strips him of the friendly neighborhood persona that he's always relied on!" Jeongguk has been ranting for a while about the newest release in the Spiderman franchise - apparently, he's part of the actual Avengers now, which is a shock to you since the last thing you heard before you died was that the franchise was canceled until further notice or something.

"And I'm saying that if they didn't give him the suit then it would've made no sense how he was able to do those things," Yoongi responds. You're pretty sure he's just arguing to be contrary at this point, because you remember him telling Namjoon the other day that he prefers DC over Marvel.

"Garfield's Spiderman could do those things," you mutter, "And he didn't have a fancy suit."

"Okay, then how do you explain Andrew Garfield's version being able to do that stuff? He doesn't need the suit, he never has!" You preen at the way Jeongguk echoes your thoughts. "I'm telling you, I don't care how good the relationship with Holland's Spidey and Iron Man is, by giving him the tech and the advancements they did, they've undermined everything that Spiderman is supposed to be about."

"Jeongguk come off it, everyone knows Garfield's Spidey was just all bad writing. I mean, what kind of person can do all that stuff, realistically? He's the one that really needed the Stark suit." Taehyung's voice is slurred and quiet, definitely as drunk as the rest of them. 

"What-! No! I could do half of that without being bitten by a weird science spider!" Jin scoffs at Jeongguk's words. 

"Yeah, sure, Guk. The same way you can do that bottlecap challenge."

"Bottle cap challenge, and yeah, I could!" The youngest stands and you don't bother to hide your grimace. 

"This isn't going to end well, is it?" You ask. No one acknowledges you, too busy finding something Jeongguk can kick the cap off of as the boy readies himself. He's steady on his feet but his face is red and he can't seem to stop giggling. 

"If I do this, you gotta call me SpiderGuk from now on, okay?" He says. No one agrees, but it doesn't stop him from laughing again and doing a couple of roundhouse kicks to warm up. 

"Okay, okay, Joonie doesn't have any regular water bottles, but we found a screw-top beer in the fridge so ya gotta use that," Jimin says as he stumbles over with said bottle. Jeongguk just nods, an adorable focused expression on his face. Jimin holds the bottle in the air, and you can already tell his grip isn't tight enough to keep the bottle still when Jeongguk kicks it. 

The next ten seconds happen in slow-motion. Jeongguk's leg flies out to kick but his drunken body isn't able to handle the sudden shift in balance, and he slips. His foot hits the bottle slightly too low, and it goes flying out of Jimin's weak grip into the air. Everyone in the room watches as it hurtles straight towards Namjoon's face, and you react out of habit and instinct, catching it in one hand before you even realize you've moved. 

Everyone freezes, staring at where the bottle hovers in front of Namjoon's face. You're the only one able to see your fingers wrapped around it. A shock jolts through you at the realization of what you've done and you drop the bottle as if it burned you. Fuck, they were all going to freak, then Namjoon would move out and you'd be stuck alone once more. You should've just shoved him out of the way, what were you thinking, you're so fucking stupid-

"Dude," Hoseok mutters from where he's perched on the arm of the couch. "Holy shit, Joon, you're fucking telepathic." 

Yoongi rolls his eyes and smacks his chest. "Telekinetic, you fucking-"

"Holy shit, you've got fucking superpowers!" Jeongguk squeaks. "Do it again!"

Namjoon isn't even able to get a word out before there's a book flying at his face, and you panic. You can't catch it, too rushed, but you manage to deflect it so it hits the bed with a soft thump instead of braining Namjoon straight in the nose. 

"Woah, you really do have superpowers," Jimin whispers. He lobs a bottlecap at Namjoon, and you catch it in your palm before letting it drop onto the half-wall. 

"I don't have...what the fuck you guys," Namjoon insists. His eyes are as wide as saucers behind the thick glasses he has on. He looks freaked out and you want nothing more than to hug him. Your hand reaches out of its own accord, halfway closing the distance to stroke his hair before you catch yourself. 

"Hey, levitate your plants," Jin demands. Namjoon looks panicked as he glances at the wall of plants, and you heave a sigh. With any luck, they're so drunk that they'll remember this as a strange fever dream, but you can't just let them keep throwing things at him. You crawl over to the wall, avoiding Namjoon as you do, and grasp one of the plants tight. It's a white pot with red polka dots, a simple RJ on the side, and it's fucking heavy. You only get it a few inches off the shelf before you're forced to put it down.

"Oh my god, catch this!" Taehyung throws a coffee mug straight at Namjoon's head and you panic again. You catch it, and you've decided you're fucking sick of them throwing things at him, so you lob it back and dart across the room to bounce it safely to the counter before it can break. 

Everyone in the room stares at the mug and then looks back at Namjoon, who hasn't moved from his spot on the bed. 

"Oh my god, you're a superhero," Jeongguk whispers, awe in his eyes. 

"That's fucked up," Yoongi mutters, wincing when Hoseok elbows him. 

"Maybe we should get some sleep," Namjoon says quietly. The others look like they want to disagree with him, and you have no doubt they want to explore the newfound 'abilities' of their friend, but they still start gathering trash together before they head out. 

Namjoon lays awake for a long time that night, glasses folded and sitting atop the half-wall beside you. He's oblivious to the way you watch him, too lost in thought to feel the weight of your stare or the chill in the air. 

"I don't understand," He says after a while. "I really don't, but there's got to be a reason for it." He doesn't elaborate, merely turns over and evens his breathing out until he starts snoring, but you watch him for most of the night. He's fascinating, this human, and you wonder what makes him so different from the others you've met. 

He apparently decides to experiment. You've known Namjoon is intelligent since he first moved in and you saw his collectible encyclopedias, but you hadn't realized just what it would be like in actuality. 

It starts simple. He'll toss something in the air and let it clatter to the ground. Nothing big, just little things like pencils or bottlecaps, and not far, just enough that his eyes narrow as he apparently tries to use his telekinetic abilities to manipulate them. 

It slowly graduates from there. Next comes the way he stares at something across the room, hyper-focused on whatever it is until you notice and move it around for him. It's a guessing game, sometimes, trying to figure out just what he wants to move or how he wants to move it, but each time you're successful, he smiles so brightly, dimples on full display. Who wouldn't want to make him smile like that?

It's hit or miss, sometimes. You're only so strong, and while you've had a lot of practice, you still get tired. You lifted his bookshelf almost a full inch before blacking out. Next thing you knew, a couple of days had passed and Namjoon was staring at a coffee mug. That was a significantly less fun day; between losing time and having to catch coffee mug after coffee mug, you were exhausted and a little shaken. 

So when he stops staring at things for extended periods of time, when he starts to go back to reading and scrolling the internet and bingeing all the completed shows that Netflix and Amazon had to offer, you're grateful for it. He still occasionally tests it out; he's always subtle about it, choosing to stare quietly until you notice and make whatever it is float around for a minute. Once you wandered around looking for him - a feat in a studio apartment - and found him just sitting on the bathroom floor, staring at a shampoo bottle.

You'd like to say that you don't move things entirely because he wants you to. It's a good test of your abilities and how far you can push yourself until it becomes too much, and it's always nice to have actual evidence that you still exist - in some form, at least - in the world. The validation that comes from seeing him smile every time you lift a pencil or slide a coffee mug to the side, it's not for any reason but the satisfaction of knowing that you have some kind of existence. Some kind of impact on the world, even if you can't be seen and can't leave the apartment.

It's part of why you start moving things around yourself more often; you're hoping he just blames it on his overactive 'abilities' if he notices because you really aren't sure what he would think otherwise. But you also know for a fact that just seeing that you have some kind of sway over the world still - over the things inside this tiny apartment - makes you feel just that bit better about being dead.

Which is why it's such a fucking shock when the door to the apartment slams open one evening just for Namjoon to slam it closed again and announce into the air, "So I know you're haunting me, please don't try to deny it, I only want to talk to you."

You freeze where you are, halfway through the closet door from where you were reorganizing his clothes because they made no sense and you were bored. He's looking around the apartment, almost desperate in the way he's searching, and you can't bring yourself to move. It's obvious he can't see you, and you aren't even sure if he's being serious, but the way he huffs and clenches his jaw before moving into the kitchen tells you that he probably is.

You follow him, curious, and watch as he pulls a small package out of his bag and starts ripping it open. You float the remains of what looks like gift wrap over to the trashcan, because you know Namjoon will forget, before going back to watching him. He's only a little careful as he cracks something in his hands and then slaps it onto the fridge, and you peek around him to see that it's some kind of words or something. There’s a wide variety, with no clear theme to them, as well as at least one of each letter of the alphabet. It's then you remember the throwaway comment Yoongi made during that night - "You need, like, poetry stuff, like those magnets that go on the fridge that people write that deep shit with, y'know? I'm gonna buy you one," - and realize that he'd followed through on his vow. 

"Alright," Namjoon says, leaning against his kitchen counter and staring at the magnets. "First and foremost, am I really being haunted or is this some kind of hallucination?" His gaze never falters, doesn’t ever drift from the magnetic words now spread across his fridge doors. It takes several minutes to build up the energy and the courage to move closer to the fridge.

You don't look at him as you move the words around, but you can hear the sharp intake of breath. That's likely all the confirmation that he needs, but still you clear a spot and let the words ' I am here ' sit where he can see them clearly. You wrinkle your nose, disliking how formal it sounds, but you have to make do, you suppose.

"Okay," Namjoon breathes. "Okay, prove it. My brain could work this into a hallucination. How do I know you're really a ghost?"

"Seriously?" You huff. "What the fuck am I supposed to do that wouldn't work into a hallucination, dude?"

He gets fidgety in the few minutes that you spend wondering how the fuck you're going to prove that you're a real actual ghost to someone who clearly doesn't believe in them. His foot taps at the floor and he scratches at his hand, which only makes you want to wrap your own hands around his until he stops, much like your best friend used to lay her legs across your lap to get you to stop shaking your knee.

The realization comes in a flash, and you're moving letters around before you can stop yourself.

Face book, Park Jihyo, best friend.

Namjoon stares at it for a long while before he brings his phone out of his pocket and begins to tap at the screen. You don't get too close; you've got a history with shorting out electronics, and you aren't sure you want to know what your best friend is up to without you there with her.

"Okay," Namjoon says. "Okay, I've never seen her before, so I don't think my brain could work her into a hallucination. Okay. Alright. I'm being haunted. This is fine."

"Calm down, I'm haunting the apartment, not you." He doesn't react to your words, as usual, but it still makes you feel the slightest bit better. He stares at his phone for a little longer, and the curiosity burns under your skin, but you resist. You know from experience that if you try to get too close, his phone will stop working. Just like TV, the stereo, the laptops, everything. You've had enough experience with that kind of thing to know what will happen.

"Okay, Casper," Namjoon huffs out after several minutes of waiting. He looks up and his eyes dart around the apartment, and you wonder if he's just nervous or if he's trying to spot you. "Where are you right now? Can you make yourself visible? I mean, I know you're a ghost, but it feels rude not talking to you to your face."

You huff a laugh but reach for a coffee cup. You know you can't just make yourself visible at will; you've only done it a couple of times, to your knowledge, and none of them have been on purpose. It's even more difficult to make yourself corporeal and physical, harder than just manipulating objects, but you did it once. Back when the single mom still lived here, when her toddler was falling and you had no way to cushion the fall except with your own body; you still aren't sure how it happened, but you remember being able to feel the floor against your back and the warmth of the baby on top of you for a split second before you were gone again. You won't forget that any time soon.

You float the mug towards where you stand, holding it in front of your face long enough that when you pull it away, Namjoon's eyes don't follow it. It's a strange feeling; you know he can't see you, can tell by the way his brow furrows and his eyes slide around the space, but it feels like he's looking straight at you. It feels like you're being seen for the first time since you died.

"So, where are you from, Casper?" His tone is forcibly conversational, as if he's trying his best to keep himself calm. You roll your eyes and move the magnets to show ' here ' and he nods. "You're not gonna try to possess me, or kill me, or run me off, are you? No offense or anything. I figure you would've already at this point, but...cover my bases."

No. Am nice. I think.

"You think? You don't know if you're a nice ghost?"

Does anyone truly know if they are nice? You frown, trying to figure out how to say what you want to say with the limited words available. I can only try. It's still not perfect; there's more that you want to say, more that you want to be heard, but this has to do for now.

"I can accept that. Alright. Just talking to a ghost in my kitchen. Okay. This is totally normal." He rubs a hand over his face, and you're a little impressed. Everyone else that's lived here has freaked when presented with the knowledge that you're a ghost. Namjoon looks very much like his world is exploding, but he doesn't have the same fear and apprehension in his eyes. He's certainly coping better than the single mom.

"Are you the only ghost? Here, I mean, are you the only ghost here?" He breathes a sigh of relief at your 'yes.’ "Can you see other ghosts? Do you know any other ghosts?" The 'don't know, no' that you move around on your fridge seems to unsettle him a little, but there's a curiosity burning behind it that makes your skin tingle.

Can't leave, is what you say next, cutting off whatever question he was about to ask.

"You can't leave at all? The building, or the apartment?"

The second.

"Wow. You're really stuck here?" He looks around the apartment as if seeing it for the first time and sucks in a breath. "What do you do all day?"

Watch. He cocks a brow. You are... You hesitate. The word you need isn't there, everything that comes to you is too poetic or corny for you to actually say, but the weight of his eyes is heavy on your hands. Fun is what you settle on, but it's not right either. 'Interesting' isn't there, nor is 'fascinating' or 'lovely,' and you don't want to scare him off by telling him that part of the reason you watch him so much is that he's so full of life that you feel less dead when he's around.

He laughs at your words though and shakes his head ever so slightly. "Alright, well, I'm gonna shower, so just, don't...watch that?" You squawk at the insinuation that you would, quickly rearranging the letters to spell ' privacy' and making a large angry face out of the rest of the words. He's already turned away, though, and it makes you angrier.

You don't want him thinking that you would peep at him. You already make sure that you're facing the windows when he finishes showering, you've been determined to not be creepy since the day he moved in, and to have him think otherwise is like a slap in the face. You slam the mug against the counter and he startles, turning to gape at it. You carry it to where your words and make-do emoji sit waiting for him to notice them.

"Okay," He says quickly. "Okay, privacy, yeah, got it. You respect my privacy. Appreciated."

"How fucking rude," You mutter as you set the mug back down. You don't adjust the magnets as he disappears into the bathroom. You want him to see them, want him to be reminded of the fact that being dead doesn't mean you don't have basic decency.

You can't get him to shut up now that he knows you're there. He still forgets sometimes, mostly when he's talking to his plants or narrating the way he carefully constructs some origami creation, but more often than not, he's talking to thin air. He spends a lot of time perched on his counter, watching you move magnets around his fridge through the thick lenses of his glasses before he spouts off some other question for you to answer. 

He covers the basics first: how old you were when you died, when your birthday is, your favorite color, what you were studying in school, and of course your name, though he insists on calling you Casper. You aren't sure why but you also don't get a chance to question it, because he hits you with more and more questions every day. Sometimes you don't answer because you can't, too limited by the poetry magnets to be able to really converse; sometimes you just don't have the energy to move the magnets around, but those are days are rare. The only times you use the tired magnet are when you find your limbs too heavy to move, weighed down with the memories of what it meant to be alive. 

Those are the bad days, but his questions make them just a little easier.

"How do you move around? Do you just float everywhere?" Walking, but different. No weight. Soft.

"How are you able to manipulate things in my world? Are they different from things in your world?" Focus. Takes time. Same.

"Do you sleep at all? Do ghosts dream?" No sleep. Just existing.

"You don't eat, do you? Should I be stocking up on snacks for you?" No. Save your sustenance. "What was the last thing you ate?" Don't remember. "Huh. I hope it was something good." Same.

"Were you ever in a relationship?" Once. A long time before. "Do you miss them?" Not anymore.

"What did you do while you were alive?" School. "Oh, really? Do you remember what you studied?" Boring. Important then, but it made me forget to live. Not important now. Namjoon goes quiet for a long moment after this one, staring out the window at something you can't see. He nods but doesn't ask any more questions, and he reads for the rest of the night.

It only takes a couple of weeks for both you and Namjoon to get tired of standing in his kitchen fucking around on the fridge. His legs get tired and he gets distracted by his thoughts, and you can barely keep up with the rapid-fire questions you get.

So Namjoon buys one of those cheap cookie sheets with the slightest lip at the edge and dumps the magnets on that. He leaves it on the coffee table, usually, there for you to pick up if he asks something but out of the way for when he stretches out to nap lazily in the afternoon sun.

You like the cookie sheet more than the fridge. He watches you as you work out your responses, can see the way you start to move one word before moving another instead; it makes it feel more like a conversation.

It becomes a favorite pass-time of Namjoon's, curling on the couch and putting some sort of music on in the background and just talking to you. A lot of nights his questions stop with a lingering silence from one or both of you; yours because you don't have the ability to share the words running rampant through your mind, and his for reasons still unknown to you. Still, you've missed it. You've missed talking to someone, being heard when you speak, having someone ask how you are at the end of the day.

It's the little things.

"You said you can't leave, right, Casper?" Namjoon's curled up on his couch, tucked into the arm with a blanket thrown over his lap, a mug of something warm in his hands to combat the chill of the season, and some R&B track playing lightly from his phone. You knock your fist against the cookie once - a sign for yes that you'd both agreed on. "So, are you just always here then? You don't go anywhere else?"

"Fuck, how do I explain this?" You mutter. You stare at the magnets in front of you for a long time before rearranging them. Not always. Tired sometimes, disappear.

"Disappear?" He reads. "What do you mean? You just, what, stop existing?"

Don't know, you respond. Only happens when tired. When used too much of me. He hums an acknowledgment, eyes focused on where the cookie sheet sits on the couch between you. You? What entertains you?

"Everything," he answers without hesitation. "I'm trying to work through my stack of books I want to read and finish all the shows I'm interested in, but the guys would have my head if I didn't get out and do things like a normal person."

That's where you leave to?

"Yeah." He sets his mug - now empty - on the coffee table and settles into the blankets. He looks cozy and soft and you would wrap yourself up with him if you could. "I take a lot of walks, and bike rides. I like to see the river, the trees, all the animals that live there. The beach is always fun, I get to see all the crabs and whatnot that wander in and out of the ocean."

"I wish I could go with you," you whisper.

Fun is what you spell on your sheet.

"I guess," he mutters. "It's enjoyable, at least. I'll bring you some souvenirs, or pictures next time."

You let the sheet settle on the couch as he turns the TV on, setting up a drama that he's on recently. He doesn't say anything else for a few hours, waits until the sound of rain hits the windows and stifles the apartment in an otherworldly haze.

"How long have you been dead?" His voice lingers in the air. You've been expecting these questions, and you're honestly impressed he's held them back for as long as he has. That angsty teen hadn't hesitated a single second to start asking you questions.

A while. Years. I think .

"Do you ever get tired of being a ghost?" There's something in his voice that you can't place, something that tells you this is more than just his usual morbid curiosity. Every part of your soul - whatever's left of it, anyway - is screaming at you to lie to him, to tell him that no, being a ghost is great. You've never wished he could hear you more than this moment, when all you want to is wrap your arms around him and ask him why he looks so much older than he is.

Sometimes, you tell him. It is lonely here, and boring. Fun to be unseen, but unable to do much more.

He nods like that makes all the sense in the world to him, and he brings the blanket up around his shoulders. "Do you ever miss your friends, or your family?"

Would you not? He huffs out an unamused chuckle, nodding again.

"Yeah," He says softly. "Yeah, I would. Do you want me to help you check on them? See what they're up to?" The single knock that echoes in the room is deafening to you, filled with a hope that you haven't felt in years. You've never let yourself think about them for long; if you did, you don't think you'd be able to come back from whatever that place is that you disappear to when things become Too Much.

Namjoon pulls his phone closer and starts fiddling with it. He doesn't hesitate when he types in your name, and you feel an emotional blush fill you when you see that he doesn't even have to finish typing for your profile to pop up. You glance at him, the way his brows are furrowed behind his glasses and his tongue pokes into his cheek just a little while he concentrates, and you wonder how many times he's looked at the pictures of you when you were alive. How many times has he scrolled through, reading the words people shared after you were gone, scrolling through the grief and loss to get to the words you posted yourself, the little snippets of your daily life that you would give anything to be able to relive?

"Do I still look like that?" You wonder aloud. As expected, he doesn't react, just continues tapping at his phone.

You two spend the rest of the night like that, each curled at opposite ends of the couch while Namjoon slowly looks up your friends and family and updates you on each of them. Jihyo got married, to someone she'd gone on a date with a few weeks before you passed, and she's apparently trying to start having kids; Your mother and father aren't very active, but they never were. They both share pictures of you when you were a baby each year on your birthday, and more recent photos of you on the anniversary. They have a dog now. It's cute. You wonder if it helps them cope with the loss.

Your other friends are doing well, too; most of them are still figuring out their lives, but it seems like all of them are settling in their skin and finding comfort in who they are. They're out there, navigating the world and doing things they enjoy, meeting new friends and making new memories.

You stand by the window for a long time, cookie sheet of magnetized words pressed against your chest as if you can feel the cool of the metal against your skin, and watch rain drip down the panes as you imagine what your life could have been.

You can always hear Namjoon before you see him. He whistles as he walks down the sidewalk, his small way of letting you know he's on his way back from wherever he's gone that day, and today isn't an exception. Relief sags through you and you move away from the windows, let your fingers trail against the ceramic of the newest succulent he'd bought, and head towards the kitchen. The kettle is turned on and heating a few moments later while you pull a mug down from your cabinet and set it carefully on the counter where Namjoon will see it.

It's a regular routine, for the two of you. He heads out, usually in the early morning after turning on some music or a show for you, and when he comes back, you make sure there's hot water for his tea or cocoa or whatever he feels like drinking that day. The sound of his whistling gets louder the closer he gets, a simple way to let you know he's safe and he's home. You glance through the cabinets and quickly make a note on the fridge that he needs to buy more of his special tea blend soon.

The lock turns and you smile, waiting patiently as Namjoon saunters into the apartment. He sets something down on the kitchen counter just as the kettle starts to scream, and you wait while he pours the water and gets it ready.

"The cherry blossoms bloomed," He says. You grin. "They look great. I got some really nice pictures while I was there, I'll show you tonight. I was thinking we could try to finish Voltron tonight if you want. We'll have to go back an episode though, I think I fell asleep during the last one." You knock once against the counter beside you, and he turns with a wide grin to glance at the spot where you stand.

It's ridiculous for your heart to speed up in your chest, for the hair on the back of your neck to rise, for breath to catch in your throat; you don't have a heartbeat, you don't have breath, you're a shadow of the person you used to be, and yet...

And yet, seeing his dimpled smile focused so naturally on where you are, as if it's just second-nature, is like a breath of fresh air after years underwater. It smells like flowers, like dirt and earth and a new beginning. It feels like you're alive again, and you don't want it to end, but too soon he's turning away to finish steeping the tea. Something lingers in the air for a moment after but it's gone too soon for you to place it.

You both settle on the couch, Namjoon tucking whatever he brought home with him under his arm, between his body and the arm of his ratty old couch. Your cookie sheet is in its place on the coffee table, unneeded at the moment. You can't help the glare that you give it; the things you would give to be able to just speak and be heard are endless.

It rattles a little and you look away.

Namjoon is quiet as the show plays. He doesn't react when you move to turn the oven on, but he does laugh quietly and thank you for it when he goes to put his dinner in. He eats and you don't bother him, though the way he keeps his little package hidden away makes curiosity burn through you. Eventually, once he's eaten and washed his dishes and laughed at the way you rubbed them dry before setting them carefully in their places, he settles back into his blankets and turns on the music he loves so much.

He's got a book balanced in his hands and your cookie sheet rests on the coffee table, and you both just sit like that for a long while, enjoying existing.

"You remember your life, right Casper?" You thump lazily against the wall in response, eyes drawn from where you watch the gloomy sky slowly get lighter with the dawn. He isn't looking at his book anymore; he probably hasn't been for a while, based on the way the pages have migrated around his thumb, too busy staring at the wall across from him. "Do you remember your death?"

You hesitate. You've tiptoed around the subject before. He's always been too afraid to ask directly, and it's too painful for you to offer it freely. You thump against the wall once more, and he nods like he already knew the answer.

"Are they very different?" His glasses are falling down his nose and your fingers itch to push them up. Instead, you reach for your cookie sheet. He makes a sound in the back of his throat when he sees it moving, reaching under him for his package. "I forgot, I got you this. Thought it might be easier."

He sets it down and you slide the contents out of the wrapping easily. Inside is a small dry-erase board, complete with markers and eraser, small things that should be easy for you to manipulate. You beam at him; he can't see it, but you think he might be able to feel it because he perks up and smiles a little.

"You don't have to answer," He adds. "I was just curious to know if being dead is really as different as everyone makes it out to be." You nod and thump once against the board before you uncap a marker and start writing.

It's a bizarre feeling, after so long. The muscles in your hand don't ache, no matter how much you write, and you can't feel the smooth surface of the board under your fingers or the weight of the marker in your palm, but it glides against it cleanly and leaves a thick black streak behind.

It takes you a minute to write everything out, get it worded how you want. Namjoon doesn't interrupt you, just watches the marker move against the board and smiles every time you go to erase something that isn't right. Eventually you show it to him.

There are similarities. I'm still me, I still enjoy TV and music and books. Things are duller now, like there's a filter over them, and it's harder to do things. Like when you're in water, or mud, like that. Resistance.

"Oh," Namjoon replies, "That's not what I expected. It makes sense though I guess." His hand moves against his chest, rubbing lightly as he looks over your words again. "Is there anything you actually like about being a ghost?"

"Well, being invisible is pretty cool," You say, writing the words as you do. "And it's actually really fun being able to walk through walls and stuff, even if I can't go anywhere outside of the apartment."

"I'm sorry you're stuck here," Namjoon says. You startle a little, looking up at him. You think he actually heard you for a split second, but his eyes are locked on where you're writing your words out on the dry erase board.

"Yeah, me too," You tell him. He stares at the board for a long moment, chewing nervously on his bottom lip as he does. "Ask what you want to ask, Joon," You write as you say it.

"How did you die?" He blurts. You sigh and he jumps a little, looking fully at where you sit. You're shocked; you know that sometimes little noises cross over, like when Jin heard you laughing, but it's still rare. You can't figure out how it works, but you want to.

You write for a long time, letters small so they fit on the board. The whole thing is crowded together, looks like one long string of letters instead of the story it is.

There's a lot of violence in this neighborhood. You probably know that by now. People are always getting robbed or mugged or something around here. Someone tried to break into my apartment by banging the door down. It didn't work, luckily, but I got really paranoid afterwards. One night I was cooking, and someone's door slammed really hard. I spilled the water I was boiling, slipped. Blacked out after a while, and when I came to, there were police everywhere. I guess I hit my head harder than I thought, because they carted me away, and I couldn’t follow.

"I'm sorry," Namjoon says softly. "You deserved more time."

Yeah. The universe had a different plan, I guess. He smiles at that, and it settles the anxiety thrumming under your skin. Wouldn't have met you, so I guess that's a bonus. He rolls his eyes at you but he laughs softly, so you consider it a win. You doodle on the board then, simple little designs that don't mean anything beyond being able to see your effect on the world.

Namjoon sucks in a breath beside you and you look up at him. He's always been good about looking towards where you are, doing his best to make eye contact with someone he can't see, but he still always tends to look through you.

Not this time.

This time, electricity sings through the air as your eyes meet his. You don't know how, but you know he can see you. His eyes roam over you, taking in the crumpled sweater you were wearing with the stain you like to think is pasta sauce on the arm, the hair you can't ever really tame, the way you sit cross-legged on his old thread-bare couch with a dry erase board in your hands.

Neither of you moves. He looks torn between fear and amazement, every emotion in between flitting quickly over his features, and you're terrified that if you move, whatever spell that's been cast will fade. It had been so long since you talked to anyone when Namjoon slammed those magnets on the fridge, and the conversation has been a reprieve, but to be seen for the first time in years...

It's invigorating.

Watching Namjoon just look at you is something you won't ever forget, not for as long as you exist in the world. He looks at you like he's memorizing every detail, every hair and wrinkle and pore, and just knowing that he can see you fills you with something new.

"Namjoon...?" You call hesitantly. His eyes fall on your lips.

"Again," He says. Your brows must furrow, maybe you frown, you don't know because it's been so long since you've needed to pay attention to your facial expressions, but he notices your confusion. "Will you say something again?"

Breath you don't have catches in your throat, wraps itself around a heart that doesn't beat, but you smile a little. "I'm glad I met you."

Namjoon smiles. It's big and blinding and knocks everything out of you except for that emotion that's been sitting in your chest since the first time you watched him talk to his plants. You lean forward, and you can tell the exact moment you disappear, because his smile falls and his eyes unfocus. A whimper leaves your throat, but he doesn't react, and that may be the most painful thing that's ever happened to you.

"Can I feel you?" His voice is hushed but the words reverberate in your head. His eyes dart around, looking for any glimpse of you, and your hand trembles as you reach out.

Goosebumps raise on his cheek where your hand touches him and his breath stops for a moment, but he smiles again and leans into the chill. You bring your other hand up to cup his other cheek, your dry erase board lying forgotten on the ground, and Namjoon's eyes flutter closed.

"I think I might love you," You say quietly just before you press your lips to his. He doesn't react to your words, but he lets out a soft sigh at your kiss. Thunder cracks through the apartment, a torrent of rain unleashed on the windows, but you don't move.

The two of you sit like that for hours, until he starts shivering and his nose turns red, like it does when he forgets his scarf on the cold days, and his breath puffs in the air. When you finally pull away from him, he smiles, and the blush on his cheeks has nothing to do with the cold air that makes up your form.

"Yeah," He says softly, voice nearly drowned out by the storm raging outside. "Yeah, I can feel you."

If you expected things to change much after that, you were wrong. At least a little. Namjoon still disappears to go on his walks, you still start the kettle the second his whistles drift up to the apartment. He still asks you a million questions, but they're more normal now. Your favorite music, color, what you wished you'd done with your life, if you've been able to corporealize again recently, what you wanted to watch that night.

"Come on, Casper," Namjoon groans. "I promise you can do it." You huff and he smiles, clearly having heard it. You're tempted to just disappear somewhere, rattle some pipes in the bathroom or the kitchen so he thinks you're in there and leaves you alone, but he smiles at you again and you're weak for that dimple.

You grip the watering can again, doing your best to lift it and manipulate it the way you need to. It's heavy, and something about the metal makes your skin itch, but the more you struggle the more you're able to pour the slightest bit of water where RJ - a giant plant that you don't even know the name of - sits in the corner of the room across from Namjoon's bed. It's the twentieth-something time you've tried this today, and you're ten seconds from just giving up completely, but you can tell this is important to Namjoon.

He's been talking all week, between the late nights where you lay over his blanket-wrapped form and the mornings where he ducks out with a soft goodbye. He's told you everything about his plants that you think he possibly could, teaching you about them and showing you how to care for them. It's interesting, you won't lie, and it's always fun to see him light up when you recall something he's told you, but you're exhausted and every part of you is shaky, and you're more than a little worried of what might happen if you push too far again.

Still, Joon hasn't looked great lately, like he might be getting the flu, and you want to be able to help him with all the things he does in the house. You've already started doing the dishes and folding laundry, since those were the two things he was the absolute worst at, but you feel like you should be doing more.

"Good job, baby, I'm proud of you!" You grunt and let the watering can fall back to the ground with a loud thump that almost definitely has the downstairs neighbors cursing Namjoon's name. "See, and now we're done for the day! C'mon, we can put on Sens8 and cuddle."

He's on the couch before you can stop him, wrapping himself in blankets except for one lone hand that sticks out, expectant. You roll your eyes and sit beside him, close enough that if you had a body you would be cuddling instead of just sitting awkwardly beside him.

You know that this is just going to make your hand all pink and gross, right?

He just smiles when the board flips around to reveal itself and wiggles his fingers. "It's worth it," He says. "I'd rather be pink and gross than never get to hold your hand at all."

You can't even feel my hand, Joon, there's literally no point to this. He huffs and wraps his hand around the marker in your hand, shivering at the chill that runs through him when he does. He grins and gestures down to where the tips of his fingers are already turning red.

"Clearly I can feel it, Casper."

You're glad he can't see you, that you don't have a heart that beats or blood that runs, because if you did, your face would no doubt be red. You have no doubts that Namjoon would tease you about it.

He's quiet as you both watch the show; he makes the odd comment here or there, but his mood seems to have calmed some. When he first got back from whatever place he visited that day, he'd been anxious and jumpy and entirely too on edge.

"Hey, Casper?" He asks quietly. You slide a hand against his cheek to let him know you're there, and he leans into the chill again. "What do you think about me?"

You don't move for several seconds, hand still poised around his cheek.

"Like, your feelings. What are they? Will you tell me?" You knock once on the wall behind the couch. Your hand stays poised over your board for long enough that Namjoon starts to get a little restless. Words refuse to come to you. Every time you start to think you have a way to describe to him what he means to you, they disappear as quick as fog on a summer's afternoon. Frustrated, you let the board fall to the couch and scrawl a quick 'hold on' so he knows you aren't just ignoring him.

It's been weeks since you've seen what you're looking for, your cookie sheet with the word magnets having been basically forgotten in lieu of the more personal and convenient dry-erase board, but right now you know that if words won't come to you, you'll have to go to them.

You finally find it, shoved under several encyclopedias and magazines, and the noise you make is so triumphant that even Namjoon hears it. You curl back up beside him, careful to make sure the blanket is wrapped tight around him, and make sure he can see the words as you move them. It still takes a long time, constantly changing and rearranging and stacking to make sure it conveys the things you need it to convey.

You are like music. A symphony of summer days and peach skies with soft rain. You are a storm in the moonlight. I'm not lonely when I have you pouring around me. You make me feel alive again.

Namjoon is silent for a long time, and you wonder if you've gone too far. It's more poetic than you'd like, too frilly and fancy and emotional than you usually are, but they're the only words you have.

After too long, he exhales. It's heavy and deep and it feels like he's trying to expel more than just air from his body.

"You make me feel alive, too," is all he says, whispered into the softness of his blanket in a voice too small for his long limbs. He shivers, and you hear him choke down a cough, and then he disappears into the bathroom for a long time. When he comes back out, he doesn't say anything, just slides into the mass of blankets on his bed and lays his arm out across the mattress. You spread out across from him, watching the rise and fall of his chest as he looks through you and out the window where the rain is letting up.

"Looks like the rainy season is gonna last longer than everyone thought." You slide your hands around one of his large ones and just hold them like that. His eyes sink closed and something like relief stands on his face for a moment before it's gone, swept away by the peace of sleep.

You wonder what it is that he sees when he looks out the window. If it's the plain brick wall and windows of the building next door, or something more.

You aren't sure you want to know.

Namjoon's flu only seems to get worse. He leaves early in the mornings, as if he thinks you might not notice the way he coughs into his scarf just because the sun hasn't risen fully yet. He stays gone most of the days, and even when he apologizes quietly during the twilight when he slinks back in to the sound of the kettle screeching on the stove and his tea already waiting to be steeped, he still doesn't stop.

You've taken to playing blues while he's gone, mostly the old school stuff, digging out the vintage record player he has buried in the closet and setting it up on the coffee table. It’s the only technology you can use without shorting it out. You don’t know why, but it makes you grateful the record collection Namjoon keeps tucked away inside the coffee table that you’ve learned is in fact an actual steamer trunk that he salvaged and restored himself.

The music fills the apartment, distracts you from the oppressive weight of his absence. He knows you wait at the window for him, you told him that back when the two of you were first getting to know each other.

You're so fragile, you had told him. He had laughed at you, quiet and fond, and waited for you to explain further. You're so full of life and breath and possibility, and the world is so big and so dangerous. I'm scared you won't come back.

"Of course I'm going to come back," he told you. You didn't even need to tell him that you're afraid of what being alone might do to you, now that you're so used to his presence. You're being heard again, sometimes even seen, and you don't know if you can go back to the stagnant depression of solitude. "I'll always come back to you."

That was the first time you thought you might love Namjoon. The feeling has only gotten stronger, and now that you wait at the window with your eyes focused on that tiny section of sidewalk you can see at the end of the alley, it threatens to consume you whole.

You wait at the window for hours. You know because you glance at the clock every minute and a half, mocking you with every tick as it hangs limply on the bathroom door. The sun sinks below the horizon, the moon rises to take its place, and they switch again while you wait. The dawn paints the sky in beautiful shades of pink and red and orange and the faintest purple, but you can't appreciate any of it, because you're too anxious.

He could be hurt. He could be gone, and you wouldn't ever know until his friends came to pack his things. He could have left, too; maybe he finally decided that living with a ghost was just too much for him and just ran. Maybe he figured out that you love him, that you would move heaven and earth if it meant he was safe forever if only you could leave this apartment, and it was too much for him.

What if he knows about how you lay beside him every night? How you tuck the blankets tighter around him, cover him in warmth and comfort before settling on top of them and closing your eyes and pretending that you can feel his arm draped over your waist and his breath on the back of your neck. What if he felt you, that night you wandered into the bathroom while he was showering to write on the steam-covered mirror that he needs to buy more eggs soon and got distracted by the way he looked stepping out of the shower? What if he knows your stomach flipped at the long limbs and the hidden muscles and the sheer size of him? What if he knows the real reason you were quiet that night, the way you kept replaying the moment in your mind and wishing you had a body so you could have just touched him, at least.

It's closer to noon than midnight when his whistle echoes up through the window.

"Hey, I'm home," He calls as he enters the empty apartment. You're upset, but you're more filled with relief than anything because at least he's safe and he's here now. He makes a beeline for where the kettle is just starting to whistle, already reaching for the honey and the tea you set out on the counter for him, and you do your best to calm the storm of emotions inside you.

Did you have fun, wherever you were? You ask him, floating the whiteboard in front of his face so he has to acknowledge it.

"Yeah, I did," he responds as he stirs his tea. "Jin invited everyone over for some end of summer thing. I didn't feel too great at the end of it, so I just spent the night there."

Don't party too hard, you might remember how to have fun, you joke. It falls a little flat based on the grim smile Namjoon gives you. Are they gonna come over here again anytime soon? I've missed scaring Hoseok.

He lets out a real laugh at that. "I don't know, maybe. My birthday's coming up, after Jeongguk's, so they could definitely be planning something. I'm heading over to Yoongi's later to help plan for Guk's party. I might stay there tonight, so try not to worry, Casper."

I'll try, you tell him. You both know you'll stand at the window every second he's gone, but you don't want to tell him why. You don't want to tell him that you love him through a dry erase board, or some fancy poetry magnets. It doesn't matter that you may as well have already said so by telling him that he makes you feel alive again; you haven't said the words to him, he hasn't seen 'I love you' in the messy scrawl that is your handwriting on some stupid board, and therefore he doesn't know.

You don't know if you want him to.

He stays gone that night, as he said he might, and reappears the next day to shower and change before he vanishes again. The next time he shows up, he takes a bag with him when he leaves, which only worsens your fears. He stays gone for three days this time, doesn't apologize when he turns up again and just mumbles a soft hello into the air before he makes tea and sags into his couch. He's asleep in seconds, and as much as you want to scream at him, you can't bring yourself to disrupt how peaceful he looks.

When he wakes, he takes a shower and ignores the ' can we talk ' you scrawled in the steam. He packs a bag of fresh clothes and doesn't say goodbye when he leaves, just disappears and leaves you standing at the window with the pail in your hand, caring for the plants he isn't. The slam of the door sounds like nails in a coffin and breaks what little was left of your soul.

He shows back up nearly a week later, and the relief at seeing him again is overridden by the sheer anger at being left in the first place. You don't start the kettle when you hear his whistle, the quiet and hoarse tune of a familiar song barely reaching the window, but there's plenty of noise when he enters.

The cabinet doors are quaking with your fury, the lights flicker and threaten to burst, and Namjoon just leans back against the door. He’s soaked from the storm thundering outside, even his jacket plastered to his skin, and he’s shivering slightly, but you can’t see anything past the rage.

"Where the fuck were you?" You demand; there's no point, it's not like he can hear you, but the way he sighs makes you feel like he can, so you continue anyway. "It's been almost a week, you didn't even think to stop by for ten seconds so I know you're okay? I thought you were dead somewhere, you could've been, like, shot, or something, I don't know, just bleeding out in some ditch, and I wouldn't know! And what about all the plants? I know how to take care of them, sure, but do you know how hard it is for me to do it?"

Namjoon sighs again, the breath catching in his throat and coming out in a cough, but you don't pay much attention to it.

"Why would you act like this, Namjoon? What did I do, is it because of the things I said? Do you not want me to feel like this about you? Because this a damn good way of making sure I don't, I assure you, so by all means, just keep disappearing and leave me alone with the plants you decided to rescue and save!"

His cough gets worse and he just shakes his head, covering his mouth and making his way towards the bathroom.

"If you want me to hate you, it's too fucking late, Joon!" The slam of the bathroom door punctuates your sentence, and you quiet at the sound of continued coughing. You knew his flu was getting worse, but it's never sounded like that. Even when you were alive, you knew that the wet sound that's muffled by the bathroom door isn't what a cough should sound like. The lock of the door clicks, and it shocks you into movement because he's never - never - locked you out of anywhere. He knows it wouldn't stop you, knows it as well as you know that you'd respect that boundary if he set it, and yet here he is, locking you out even as he coughs up what sounds like a lung in the other room.

You hesitate at the door, torn between respecting his boundaries and knowing what’s happening. You want him to trust you, always, and yet you find your hand disappearing through the door before you can stop it. You stand like that for a long moment, just listening to the sounds of his wracking coughs; the sound of a crash echoes through the apartment, though, and you’re through the door completely in the span of a heartbeat. 

Nearly everything that had been on the counter is scattered on the ground, Namjoon himself gripping the sides of the toilet as if he would fall apart otherwise. A single glance tells you that the crash happened as he turned from the sink to the toilet, and if his jolting shoulders didn’t tell you why, the sounds of his retching would. That isn’t what fills you with dread though; the disorientation, the vomiting, all of it comes with being sick sometimes, but the red staining the bathroom sink? 

That’s not normal, and you know with every part of you that it’s the reason he’s been gone so much. 

The temperature in the apartment drops with the sun, but your arms surround Namjoon as best they can. Goosebumps break out on his arms, shivers run down his back, but you don’t move away from him; he doesn’t say anything, just sits there with his forehead pressed against the cool of the porcelain. He stands eventually, ignores the way he passes completely through your body to rinse the sink and brush his teeth. 

You let him stay quiet until you’re both on his bed; you’re pressed up against his side and running your hands along his forearms, idly wondering if you would be able to feel his heartbeat if you were alive. 

“It’s not...it’s not gonna get better,” He says eventually. “There’s not a cure, just some things to draw it out and give me a little bit longer even if they come with more pain. I go once a week to see if it’s gotten worse, check how much longer I have. It’s why Hobi let me move in here rent-free. He pays the bills, says it’s the least he can do. I wanted to be closer to him anyway, so that’s a bonus, I guess.”

“I’m so sorry, Joon,” you whisper. Your board lies forgotten, somewhere on the couch maybe, you aren’t sure and can’t be bothered to pull yourself away from him long enough to find it. You don’t need it right now, though; he knows what you mean by the way the cold presses against his bicep with your palm. 

“I didn’t want you to know.” You’re not exactly surprised at that; you’d figured as much. You just don’t understand his reasoning. “I didn’t want you worrying about me, or anything like that, like the guys do. They always look at me and it’s all they can see. Like they’re already mourning me, even though I’m still here. I didn’t want to feel like that with you.” 

“I know,” you say. You don’t, not really. Your own death was sudden, a shock to everyone you knew; you didn’t get the luxury of saying goodbye, didn’t have the burden of knowing you would be gone soon. 

The two of you sit in silence for a while, until you can feel Namjoon’s chest quivering under your palm. When you look up, he looks at you, really and truly at you , and he has tears in his eyes. 

“I don’t want to die, Casper,” He whispers. You suck in a breath because he can see you, and you don’t even know why, but you don’t want to lose this moment. “I don’t want to leave all of this behind. I don’t want to leave you.” 

“It’ll be okay,” you say softly. His brow furrows and a tear slides down his cheek. “I promise you it will be okay, Namjoon. It gets easier, and people remember but they aren’t stuck forever. And I…” You falter, and it takes his eyes meeting yours to make you realize he can hear you. And there’s only one thing you’ve ever needed him to hear. 

“I love you,” You tell him. “I love you, and I will never forget you.” 

He surges forward, lips meeting yours in a rush of air. You moan at the feeling of him against you, realizing that for the first time since you died, you can feel something under your fingers. His skin is warm against your fingers, his lips soft against your own, and when he reaches up to cup your jaw with his hand, he doesn’t pass through your form. Instead his hand settles heavy against you, and he moves your head to lick into your mouth. 

Tears that won’t fall prickle at the back of your eyes and you climb into his lap before he can stop you. He’s still crying so you wipe away the tears before they can fall, pressing soft kisses to his cheeks, his dimples, his nose, every bit you can reach. A question sits at the back of your mind, and you can see it lingering in his eyes, but neither of you asks it.

“You’re so cold.” His whisper is nearly lost amidst the thunder that shakes the apartment, but it makes you smile a little. 

“Warm me up?” 

His chest is still quivering with unspoken sobs, but he nods. “Always,” he tells you. “I’m always going to be here.” It doesn’t take long to pry him out of his clothes, takes even less time for him to sink into you. It feels just like it did when you were alive, only magnified; you can feel him hot and warm inside you, can feel the beat of his heart in the firm muscle under your hands. His moans are quiet and hoarse but you wouldn’t have it any other way. 

He keeps one hand on your waist and the other on your neck, holding you close enough that he can kiss whenever he wants. “You’re beautiful,” He whispers. “The most beautiful person I’ve ever seen.” You just press another kiss to his chapped lips and let him dig his fingers in hard enough that it would bruise if it could. When he’s close to his peak, he stops thrusting, just sits inside you as he grinds your hips down to his, and presses his forehead against yours. 

“I love you,” He tells you, lightning casting his shadow across the wall for a brief moment. “I love you, I do, I wish-”

“I know,” you tell him before he can continue. “I know, Namjoon, I know, and I do, too. I love you, too.” He comes a few seconds later, the warm seed soaking into his sheets because it has nowhere to go. His warmth disappears from under your hands and his arms fall to his lap when the only thing holding them up is gone. All you can hear is your quiet sobs mixed with his and the rain against the window, and for the first time since you came back, you really, truly, wish you had died. There’s no point in being a ghost when you can still feel your heart breaking in your chest. 

“Casper, are you ever scared?” 

It’s the middle of the afternoon. Namjoon is sprawled across the couch wrapped in blankets while Lucifer plays in the background and you doodle aimlessly on your board. You don’t need it as often now; you’ve gotten better at focusing your energy into being heard, though being corporeal still eludes you. You don’t know how you did it that night, but you’re grateful for it. 

“Of what?” You ask, looking towards him. He’s not looking at you or watching the show, just staring at the ceiling. He focuses at your words, lifts himself up into a sitting position. A shiver runs through him when his legs move through you, and you settle a weightless hand against his knee out of habit. 

“I don’t know,” He replies. “Just...whatever comes next. If there’s something that comes next. Being forgotten. Being stuck here forever.” 

You aren’t stupid; you know why he’s asking. The question lingers in the air, colors all of your conversations now, but the truth is that neither of you has the strength to ask it and neither of you knows the answer. 

“Sometimes,” You tell him. “Sometimes I wonder what Jihyo is doing, if she ever had a baby like she wanted to. I wonder if my parents are still alive, and what they say if they visit my grave, what they tell me now that I can’t respond to them.” 

Namjoon nods like he’s already thought of that, and he probably has. 

“Most of the time I try not to focus on it, though. It’s not helpful, it only upsets me, and I don’t…” You trail off, unsure of how to word your thoughts. “I don’t know what might happen if I only focus on the negative. I don’t know anything about what’s true about ghosts and what isn’t beyond that I exist now, and I can’t risk becoming something bad. So I try not to focus on it. It’s easier when you’re here.”

He grins and blows a kiss in your general direction, and you pretend not to notice the blood on his cracked lips. He’s quiet for the rest of the episode of half of another. 

“Have you ever seen a light?” 

“What?” He doesn’t seem to hear you, and you repeat your question on your board for him. 

“A light,” He echoes. “Like, the light.Y’know, the light at the end of the tunnel, ‘don’t go into the light,’ that thing.” 

You hesitate at that. You knew what he meant, what he actually wants to know here. He’s easier to read now than he was in the beginning. 

You watch him as he watches the space where you sit, curled up beside him on his couch. He can’t see you, of course, but he can see where the board rests in your hands. His gaze is heavier than it was when he first moved in; his cheeks are hollower, skin more gaunt with a grey tint that’s only made worse by the constant rain. The sun is just starting to break through the clouds, a brief reprieve after weeks of the dreary stone-colored clouds. It casts shadows along the walls, reflects off something in the window across the alley, and backlights Namjoon beautifully, casts a halo of light around the brittle brown hair you love. 

Once, you tell him. Just once.

“Why didn’t you go to it?” 

There are so many things you could tell him, so many different ways to answer such a simple question, but you find yourself lingering on the one thing you know is the ultimate truth. 

Because I love you.

September comes with even more rain and a bittersweet atmosphere. Jeongguk spends his birthday at Namjoon’s apartment and then comes back a little over a week later, surrounded by the other guys and carrying enough food to last a few months. You stay curled on the bed, one of the only safe places for you to not mess with anyone or anything. Your board is tucked into the blankets, ready to be used but hidden from view just in case. You watch as Namjoon sits on the couch, tucked between Taehyung and Yoongi with both of them leaning into him as much as possible, Yoongi’s hands wrapped in one of his and Tae’s head on his shoulder. 

The other’s aren’t far, leaning against the back of the couch and on beanbags they’d brought with them, all laughing as Hoseok does his best to act out whatever he’d been given in charades. He’s not bad at it - you’ve guessed the last few he’s done - but he is utterly ridiculous in his mannerisms. You know why; it’s the same reason everyone kept smiling when Namjoon refused all of the food he was offered, why Seokjin would crack a terrible joke whenever it got too quiet for too long, why everyone is resolutely ignoring the growing pile of tissues on the table. 

It keeps a smile on Namjoon’s face, though, and a laugh in his eyes, and you can’t ever be anything but grateful for that. 

Hoseok stumbles, nearly falling and whirling his arms to catch himself before eventually falling anyway. You laugh along with the others, grinning at the way Hobi pouts and rubs at his hip. You’re focused on the way Joon laughs, the way it lights up his face and brightens the entire room, which is why you see it first. 

The tickle at the back of his throat quickly becomes a cough, wet and wheezing and enough to make him throw the blankets from his lap and stumble to the bathroom. 

You’re there before he is, helping him slide the door closed and locking it behind him as he bends over the toilet again. The six of them are quiet in the main room, speaking in hushed whispers that neither you nor Namjoon wants to hear. You turn the knob on the sink, wetting a towel while you drown out the sound of voices, and letting a hand run over Namjoon’s back. 

“I’m okay,” he mutters. You ignore the way his voice shakes, the way his lips are redder than before, the way this happens more often than before. Instead, you just press the damp rag to his neck and watch his eyes close in relief. When he stands and flushes the evidence away, you already have his toothbrush ready and waiting, and you stay as close to him as you can until he takes a deep breath. 

“I’m okay,” He repeats. “I’m okay. It’s my birthday, and I’m okay.” 

He goes back out with a smile on his face and a laugh in his voice, teasing Hoseok about the way he fell and reenacting it, even. When he settles on the couch, he urges the others to continue the game. There’s a brief moment of hesitation before Jimin declares that he’s next and pulls something from the bowl on the table. 

You know you aren’t the only one that notices the way Namjoon’s eyes linger on the six men around him, but you are the only one that notices the way they also linger on his steamer trunk, the shelf with his books, the TV, the record player, the scrapbook of his life that they all worked on and Taehyung pieced together over the months, the plants on the wall that he had cared for. He looks around his apartment as if he’s looking at it for the last time. 

As if he’s already planning who’s going to get what. 

He finally asks the question you both have been thinking about, nearly two months later. His breathing comes in ragged pants, his lips stay chapped, and he keeps several blankets around him at all times to try to hide the shaking of his body. Your soft sobs echo through the apartment constantly; while you reheat the tea he doesn’t drink for the millionth time, while you quietly water and prune the plants he’s saved from death the way you wish you could save him, while you sit curled around him as he sleeps, soothing his coughs with quiet whispers. 

Night has just begun to fall, the rain of the day turning into a soft drizzle, and you stare at him blankly, unsure how to process what you’ve just heard. 

“Do you think I’ll come back?” He asks again, slightly louder. As if you hadn’t heard his shaky voice the first time. It’s not the question that floors you. You’ve been expecting this for weeks, months even. You’ve wondered it yourself as you prepare tea and ignore the sounds of him vomiting blood in the bathroom, as he disappears to the hospital and returns with a worse prognosis than before, as you’ve adjusted to the idea that you are dead and he is dying and you cannot do anything to help him. 

You never would have expected the hope that his words carry though. 

“Why does it sound like you want to?” You ask. Your voice is clear in the air and you’re glad for it, because this isn’t something you want to talk about through your board. 

“Because I do?” His response is delayed and sounds more like a question than a real answer. 

“Why?!” You demand. 

“Are you serious, Casper?” His brow is furrowed as he sits up and lets the blankets fall away to sit haphazardly off the couch. 

“Are you? Joon, why would you want to come back?”

“You’re seriously asking me that question? Why would I not? I’ve got so much I still want to do, I never thought I’d get the chance to after I got the diagnosis and now I might be able to. Why wouldn’t I want that?”

“Because it doesn’t work like that! You don’t get to just wander the world and fuck around, Joon, you’re dead.”

“Yeah, but you can still read and write and everything. I’d have all the time in the world to read the books I want to read, watch the shows I want to watch, write the music and stories and lyrics that I want to write.”

“Yeah, so long as it all stays in this apartment!” The light in the room flickers slightly with the force of your irritation. “You can’t do anything that isn’t in this room, Namjoon, you can’t use any of the electronics, you can’t read a book unless it’s here, you can’t write music unless it’s on actual paper, you can’t do anything.” 

“Yeah, and I could make that work. Why are you so upset about this? I thought you’d be happy.”

“Happy? You think I’d be happy that you’d be stuck in these four walls forever, too? Why would that make me happy?” Namjoon stands, running a hand through his hair and shaking his head. 

“Because I’d be with you! We’d be together, forever! Do you not want to be with me?”

“Of course I want to be with you, Joon, but not at the cost of you being stuck here. I don’t want that for anyone, certainly not the man I love.”

“And what if that’s what I want? What if I want to spend the rest of time with you? I’m already spending the rest of my life with you, I’m in love with you, I don’t want to leave you.”

“And I don’t want you to go, but Joon, why would I want you stuck here, too? This isn’t something fun. This isn’t anything that I enjoy.”

“Oh, so you regret it all then?”

“I didn’t say that, I just don’t want you to be stuck in a shitty studio apartment for who knows how long when you can’t fucking do half of the things you love! You wouldn’t go on walks, Namjoon, you wouldn’t go with Guk and Jimin to the movies, you wouldn’t get visits from Hobi, you wouldn’t get to shop with Taehyung or Jin, you wouldn’t get to drag Yoongi away from his thesis or celebrate with them when he finishes it! It’s not like being alive, Namjoon, you’d be dead and alone and in hell!”

“Whatever,” He mutters, shoving his arms into his coat. “Why can’t you understand for one fucking second that it wouldn’t be like that with you? I’d rather be stuck here forever than have to die in some shitty apartment and not even be able to touch the person I love.”

“Why can’t you understand that it’s still death? You’d be dead, Joon, your friends would go to your funeral and disappear from your life, and you’d be stuck staring out that window at that shitty alley for the rest of time. You don’t get it, you don’t how terrible it is to be stuck here and watch life pass you by.”

“Then why the fuck are you still here?” He asks. The door slams behind him before you can answer him, and your scream shakes everything in the room. You just barely catch one of the plants in the kitchen, a brown-potted one with ‘Shooky’ scrawled in Yoongi’s familiar handwriting, before it crashes to the ground. You return it to its place gently and huff another frustrated groan. 

You wish you could explain it better, but you know he wouldn’t get it even if you could. He doesn’t understand what it’s like to be trapped between four walls and unable to do anything without massive amounts of effort. And he won’t, not unless he experiences it himself. 

You’ve already watched him wither away. You’ve watched him become thin and sallow and a shadow of the Namjoon who first moved in, and you don’t know what you would do if he came back. You wouldn’t be alone anymore, of course, and you’d have him here with you, but at what cost? Namjoon was built for cherry blossoms and sunshine and the riverside. He would hate being trapped here even more than you do.

Still, you could have been more understanding of his view. You can admit that even being stuck in a shitty apartment wasn’t so terrible when you had Namjoon there to make you laugh or watch TV or read to you. It may even get better if he turned into a ghost; maybe you could hold his hands in yours, could feel him wrap his arms around you, could press kisses to his skin again. 

You move to the window and stand there waiting. It’s not good for him to be out, even if the rain had stopped a few days ago and the forecasters promised it was the end of the downpours. He was still weak, you’d be surprised he even went anywhere to begin with but you know he likes to walk to calm himself down. 

You worry for what feels like hours. You can’t focus on anything, not the way the sun starts to set, not the sound of cars passing or the neighbor leaving. You’ve worked yourself into knots by the time you hear his whistle echo up through the streets, nearly lost in the sound of some argument in the alley below you. You catch a brief view of his coat and smile when you see that he’s got some half-dead plant tucked under an arm. There’s the briefest glimpse of what looks like a Ca scrawled onto it, and your heart jumps in your throat.

You make your way to the stove, turning the heat up slightly too high so that it’ll be ready when he comes in. The arguing outside gets louder but you pay it no mind, pulling the honey out and setting it next to his favorite mug. You’re reaching for the tea when you hear something else. It definitely sounds like Namjoon’s voice, but it’s not in the hall or at the door like usual. It’s raised, like he’s yelling at someone, like it was just a while ago when he was fighting with you. A crash startles you and before you can even reach the window to see what’s going on, there’s a deafening bang. 

You slam your fist against the window, watch the red mix with dirt, and the kettle isn't that only thing that screams. 

“I think that’s the last of it,” Jeongguk says. His voice is scratchy and quiet, but it’s deafening in the silence of the apartment. 

“Yeah,” Hoseok replies. His eyes are rimmed with red and his hands shake as he slides the last mug into a box. “Thanks for the help, Guk. I don’t, um.” He sniffles. “I don’t think I could’ve done it myself, y’know?” 

“I know,” Jeongguk agrees. They’re quiet again, adjusting the things they’ve boxed and avoiding finishing what they’re doing. 

“Oh, can you get that?” You don’t have to look to know what Hoseok is talking about. Jeongguk grunts an affirmation and makes his way over. It’s a strange feeling, having someone pass through you again for the first time since. His hands fly into the air as he tries to lift, clearly not having expected it to weigh anything. 

His reflection in the window frowns, and he tries again, tugging on the pot. 

“I can’t get it,” He says. “Do you think he glued these things down or something?” 

“No,” Hoseok replies as he wanders over as well. “He used to pick them up to re-pot them, remember? And the others came up with no problem.” 

“Well it’s stuck or something, you try.”

Hobi takes Jeongguk’s place and pulls hard at the plot, but your grip doesn’t waver. He huffs and disappears. When he returns, he’s got a butter knife in one hand that he does his best to slip under the pot. He tries hard to pry it up, so hard that you almost want to give in. You don’t though. 

The knife clatters to the floor with as much force as Hoseok can put behind it, a curse following quickly behind it. 

“Fuck it,” Hoseok says. His voice is shaky and you know he’s near tears again. “Just fuck it.” 

“But that was-”

“You can try if you want, Guk, but I just-” He chokes back a sob, shaking his head and moving to pick up the boxes he’d set down. “I just can’t, okay?” He disappears out the door in a hurry, and you wish you could follow after him. 

Jeongguk looks down at the small plant, with its painted periwinkle pot and soft leaves. He runs a quivering finger over the leaf and sniffles. He doesn’t try to lift it again, just stands and lets his tear soak into the soil.

“I wish you could come back to us,” He whispers. “We thought...we expected more time. It’s not...it’s not really fair, y’know? So if you can hear me, if you can come back to us, please do. Please.” 

He turns and leaves, the apartment door slamming behind him like the lid of a casket. Your grip on Mang loosens now that you know no one’s going to try to take it. You’d watched them pack everything else up; you’d let them take the steamer trunk full of records, the shelf full of books and movies, the collection of mugs, the soft blankets, the ratty couch, the rest of the plants he’d cared for so tenderly. 

Piece by piece they had packed Namjoon up and walked him out of the apartment, but this was the one piece they couldn’t have. This was his favorite and none of them knew how to care for it like you did, and you had to. You owed it to him. He deserved to come back to at least one familiar thing, never mind that you woke up not even a day later and it’s now been weeks. If there was one thing you wanted him to see when he got back, it was his favorite of his plants. 

The sun glares into your eyes from where it shines down on the city. It reflects off something in the window from across the alley, would be blinding if you actually had eyes. You pay it no mind, focused instead on the remains of the broken brown pot down in the alley, the way you’ve pieced them together in your head a thousand times just to trace the word Casper with your eyes. You can almost hear his voice saying it, even now.

You whip around, eyes darting through the empty space of the apartment as your hands tighten around Mang.

All that rests there is empty space, mocking in its loneliness. You remember when he moved in, remember how it felt to test the boundaries of the apartment and wish you were free. The want is still there, to leave and never think of it again, never think of him. You know better, though. You could never escape the memory of him, the way he laughed and smiled and spoke. You could never abandon Mang. Not when he said he’d always come back to you. 

You turn back to the window, cursing the sunlight with every other breath. It fades, slowly, into the black of night, before returning again, and again, and again. Days pass, each one feeling like years. Hoseok doesn’t appear to show the apartment, no one comes to collect the small periwinkle pot between your palms, and the ghost of his laugh echoes around you. 

The sun blinds you again. You don’t even know how long it’s been, just that you’ve yet to move. Light glints off whatever hangs in the window across the alley. That's when you see it, a vague reflection in the weathered glass of a dimple and a grin, and warmth surrounds you.

“I told you I’d always come back, Casper.”