#i’m doing good but the melancholy/bitterness won’t leave

[liskie]

my favorite smell has to be smoke when it’s cold outside, it’s a very specific and comforting combination that reminds me of who i am

[familiarscars]

Lost In Control | Bad Omens | CHAPTER 25

adult content | minors do NOT interact.

⋆ 𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆. Bad Omens X ex-girlfriend and singer!Reader.

⋆ 𝐒����𝐍𝐎𝐏𝐒𝐈𝐒. You and Noah had a difficult ending but you still need to support each other for the band.

⋆ 𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆(𝐒). melancholy, ex-boyfriends, difficult relationships, alcohol abuse, swearing, drug addiction, violence.

It's okay to not agree with the characters' attitudes during the fic. It's good to remember that the story is fiction from the author's sick mind and of course they will make dubious decisions according to my fantasies. Nothing is done to be compared to reality.

Los Angeles, December 24, 2021.

You stumbled on the last step before reaching the door, planting your feet firmly on the ground to avoid falling. The morning air felt heavy, hard to draw into your lungs, as your hands trembled searching for the keys in your pocket. Your disheveled hair clung to your damp face, and you brushed it aside with a brusque, almost irritated motion at the mere touch.

When you finally pushed the door open, it creaked, the sound echoing through the silent house like a scream. Your eyes took a second to adjust to the dimness, but then you saw him. Noah was sitting on the living room floor, shoulders slumped and head slightly tilted to the side, as if he had been waiting for you for a long time.

Papers were scattered around him, a pen lying near his hand. He looked up, and his eyes bore the weight of a sleepless night, dark shadows etched beneath them. His expression was a mixture of exhaustion and something else you didn’t want to decipher at that moment.

"Where were you?" His voice cut through the silence like a dull knife—low, hoarse, but laden with tension.

You passed him without answering, kicking your shoes off, the sound reverberating in the empty space. Every fiber of your body seemed to buzz, the burning sensation in your legs competing with the relentless throbbing in your head. Your legs were on the verge of betraying you, so weak from the long walk you had endured, and your stomach twisted emptily as if a pair of hands were tugging at the knot within it.

"I asked where you were," he repeated, rising slowly, as if even that was a monumental effort.

"If you already know the answer, why bother asking?" you replied, your voice harsher than you intended.

His arms were crossed, his gaze locking onto you with an intensity that made your head spin. "I still hope for a different answer."

"You sent me to hell before you left, and so I went."

"Look at you..." He gestured with his chin, forcing your eyes downward. "You can barely string a sentence together, your body’s trembling from the cold, and you don’t even have the belongings you left with..."

Your fingers were bare—every ring you had worn was now gone, traded away when you ran out of money on the streets.

"You left me alone all night! You’ve been leaving me alone every day, even when you’re right in front of me, unable to pay attention to what I say!"

"Don’t start, Noah." You turned to him, feeling your face heat up, anger from your last argument and the pounding in your head wrestling for control. "I don’t need this right now."

"Don’t need it?" He laughed, a bitter, humorless sound. "If you won’t talk about your responsibilities in this relationship, then let’s discuss your share of the work—work I’m left to handle alone!"

You stared at him, your chest rising and falling rapidly as his words struck like a slap. But the pain, the exhaustion, the swirling mix of emotions coursing through your veins, and the dizziness that blurred the house’s furniture—it was all too much.

Noah’s voice, initially low and tinged with disbelief, pierced the fog that kept you paralyzed. "What is this?" he asked, pointing at the cuts on your arm, the irritated redness around them, and the traces of dried blood marking your skin. Before you could react, he gripped your arm firmly, forcing you to meet his tear-filled eyes, brimming with fear and desperation.

"What are you doing?" he whispered, his voice faltering before rising to a tone that seemed to scream for the truth. "What is happening to you? FOR GOD’S SAKE, TALK TO ME!"

"LET ME GO!" you cried out between anguished sobs, struggling to free yourself from his worried grasp as he demanded answers. The sobs took over as you repeated softly, shaking your head in denial.

Noah released you slowly but remained still, as if every word had struck him down. "I just wanted you to tell me what I did to bring us here..."

"You keep getting it wrong, thinking everything about me reflects on you!" You exploded, clutching your temples with trembling hands. "Not everything is about you, Noah! I’m a human being with my own problems, and I can’t take not being able to suffer in peace because I have to worry about you!"

You screamed, your voice echoing between you like a sharp confession. "I can’t take it anymore. I can’t take it anymore."

Noah tried, his voice broken with pain, one last effort: "But I do it because I want to help you deal with this."

"BUT YOU CAN’T!" you yelled, raising your hands as if to push him away. "You can’t, Noah, not when I don’t even know how to deal with it myself! I don’t want your help, I don’t want to be fixed. I just want you to leave me alone with my pain, at least for one day!"

He stepped back, your words seeming to pull the ground out from under him. "You’ve been ruining my days, my nights, my celebrations, my birthday, and now my Christmas," his voice trembled, low but filled with hurt. "But that’s fine, right? Because talking about how this is destroying both of us would make it about me!"

"That’s not what I’m trying to tell you..." You couldn’t understand why it was so hard for him to see you, to see beyond your filthy, damp shell. You just wanted him to see what you were inside for once.

"Then make it clearer what you’re trying to tell me!"

"I’m not arguing with you now when I have to get up early tomorrow to fly with the band!" you replied, exhaling in exhaustion as you wiped the sweat from your forehead.

"You’re not going to that festival."

"What?" you shot back, frowning deeply.

The silence that followed was heavy and unbearable, his words reverberating in your mind, and the gap between you seemed impossible to bridge.

"We’ll issue a statement saying you’re sick and won’t be fulfilling the week’s schedule. We’ll perform without you." He sounded so resolute that you realized the idea hadn’t just occurred to him overnight. "I’m also discussing with the guys the possibility of removing you from next month’s tour."

"What the hell do you think you’re doing?"

"Showing you everything you’re losing every time you go against the proper flow of our river. I won’t let you ruin another tour because you decided this is how you want to live your life!" he said. "While you’re here, you’ll have plenty of time to get your head straight without my presence bothering you."

He hesitated for a moment, his voice cracking with the intensity of his words, while you took an involuntary step back, feeling their impact like a direct blow. His words seemed to linger in the silence, filling the space with a suffocating tension.

You closed your eyes for a moment, taking a deep breath, before turning and walking toward the bedroom. The walls seemed closer than ever, the hallway longer, each step echoing with the weight of the argument you had just left behind.

As you entered, you slammed the door shut, twisting the key in the lock before leaning against it. Your eyes burned, but the tears wouldn't come. All that remained was the silence and the sound of your heart pounding erratically.

Sliding down the door, you sat on the floor, knees pulled to your chest. Your heavy breathing made the air feel stifling, each inhale a struggle as though something was lodged in your throat. Your trembling hands fumbled for the phone in your pocket, nearly dropping it in the process. With effort, you unlocked the screen and scrolled through the contact list until her name appeared.

You pressed the call button, holding the phone tightly against your ear as the dial tone echoed in the line. Once, twice, three times. Always the same pattern, always the same outcome.

“Hi, you’ve reached Crystal’s phone. Please leave your message after the beep.”

The sound of her voicemail was like a familiar blow—expected, yet it still hurt. You closed your eyes, letting your head fall back against the cold wood of the door, clutching the phone tightly.

“Mom…” The word came out more like a sigh than a spoken word. You cleared your throat, but your voice remained shaky. “I… I think I saw you today.”

You paused, biting your lip, feeling the tears finally welling up, stinging the corners of your eyes.

“You were wearing that red coat I always liked, and… I think you saw me too.”

Your voice broke, but you kept going.

“Why did you pretend not to know me? I know I’m still not the daughter you wanted, but… I’m trying. I swear I’m trying.”

The tears were finally falling, warm against your cold skin. You wiped them away with the back of your hand, but they kept coming, relentless.

“I just… I just wanted to hear your voice. To know you still care, in some way. Or that you… I don’t know, think of me sometimes.”

You laughed, a hollow, humorless sound, as you stared at the ceiling. “I don’t know why I keep trying, to be honest. I guess… I just needed to say this. Merry Christmas, Mom.”

Your voice trailed off at the end, almost a whisper. You ended the call, letting the phone fall to the floor beside you as the ache in your chest seemed to expand, consuming every space within you.

You stayed there, leaning against the door, staring into nothingness as the weight of silence filled the entire house.

Stepping out of the shower, you noticed the scale on the floor beside the sink. You hadn’t weighed yourself in ages, but overcoming the discomfort of being near it, you stepped onto the glass square. The numbers on the screen startled you, revealing how much weight you had lost. Staring at your reflection in the mirror, you felt shock wash over you.

Nothing you saw pleased you, but wasn’t this what you wanted?

“What’s happening to me?” you murmured, barely audible.

The bones in your cheeks were visible, your collarbone pronounced, as well as your ribs and every vertebra of your spine. All the muscle definition in your arms and legs from the gym was gone; now they were straight and thin. You touched your fingertips to the mirror, trying to reach the woman you saw there. She was crying uncontrollably, looking heartbroken as she remembered why she had stopped glancing at mirrors in her house.

Your fingers clenched, nails making a faint noise against the glass, and your breathing was unsteady. All the dissatisfaction and bitterness with what you saw seemed to weigh down on you at once. Your scream wouldn’t come, stifled by something holding it back. Only a strange sound escaped your lips, accompanied by the tears.

No one needed to try to break you anymore; you had already done it yourself.

The impulse made you punch the mirror, which cracked into four irregular pieces, two of them falling onto the sink. Your reflection among the shattered glass only deepened the ache in your throat. Outside, the sound of activity pierced through the silence. You had spent so much time awake through the night that you didn’t notice the morning arrive. Noah was already dragging his suitcase to the door.

He had chosen to sleep in the guest room rather than speak to you.

After throwing on whatever clothes you found, you collapsed onto the couch in the living room with a tub of ice cream. You had no appetite but shoved spoonfuls into your mouth, as though the sensation of almost throwing up was oddly satisfying. The crumpled balls of paper scattered on the floor caught your eye. He had been writing last night when you walked in, and now he had taken the rest of the notebook.

Sitting on the couch, the notebook balanced on your lap and a pen spinning between your fingers, the blank page seemed to mock you. Concentration was completely absent as a spoonful of melted ice cream sat forgotten in a bowl nearby.

The sharp sound of the doorbell cut through the silence, drawing your gaze upward. Suspicious, you set the pen aside and got up, your bare feet making no noise as you approached the window. Peeking through the curtain, your heart pounded faster when you recognized Gerard standing on the porch, flanked by two men in white you’d never seen before. Your brow furrowed instinctively, a chill running down your spine.

The doorbell rang again, more insistently, as if he knew you were there. Hesitant, you moved toward the door, small, cautious steps. When you turned the knob and cracked it open, Gerard’s smile hit you like a punch to the gut. It wasn’t a normal smile; it was crooked, sinister, filled with intentions you couldn’t decipher.

“Nothing better than using the holidays for some self-care, right?” he said with mock cheerfulness.

“Gerard, what—” Your voice faltered as you noticed the movement of the men behind him.

Before you could react, they moved with terrifying speed, rushing through the door. You tried to retreat, but the space was too narrow. One of their strong hands grabbed your arm while the other moved to cover your mouth, muffling the scream forming in your throat. “No! Let me go!” You struggled, but their iron grip made escape impossible.

You felt a sharp prick in your neck, like a bee sting, and a wave of drowsiness swept over you. Your legs gave way, the world spinning, colors and sounds fading quickly. The last thing you saw was Gerard’s face, his smile widening as you lost consciousness.

“Don’t worry, he left you in good hands…”

His voice echoed as everything around you went dark.

When you opened your eyes, the blinding white light made them burn. You tried to lift your head, but you were immobilized, your arms and legs restrained. Pain throbbed at the side of your skull, the effects of the sedation still lingering, and the sterile smell of the room enveloped you, stifling.

Your gaze wandered to the ceiling until Gerard’s figure appeared at the edge of your vision, moving slowly until he stood beside the bed. He leaned in, his face close enough for you to see every detail, his eyes gleaming with a chilling coldness.

"Do you remember when I warned you about messing with me?"

His voice was low but carried an overwhelming authority, a promise of something far worse to come. You tried to speak, but nothing came out. Only fear seemed to pulse, filling every corner of your being as you lay there, helpless and vulnerable.

⭑ @collisionofyourkissmakesitsohard ; @iluvmewwwww75 ; @anarchydomainglory ; @foliosgirl ; @lacy1986 ; @chey-h ; @supersquirrel1996 ; @zozaline​ ; @just-randomm-stuff

[meowzfordayz]

I'm so nervous to put him through this, but for the milestone 5.0:

Kyojuro with prompt 16? It can be SFW or NSFW, doesn't matter to me

I'm scared, but hurt me 😂

MILESTONE 5.0

Hi! ☺️ I started getting #in my feelz writing your drabble, but I feel like I stopped before it got too intense ?? 😆 And then I went back and wrote some more. 💀 Thanks so much for participating❣️

I’m still here in the darkness, back where we started, you make me a heartless monster. — You Don't Go to Parties

CW: alcohol, explicit language

For the third time, in no less than thirty minutes, you shrug off the feeling that someone’s watching you, back pressed into the grimy wall of your best friend’s friend’s roommate’s apartment. Loud, unfamiliar music grabs at your skin, goosebumps raised despite the sweltering heat of too many bodies surrounding you, darkness blurring your perception of expressions and movements, the nostalgia of sipping rum and coke out of a red solo cup doing little to ease the knot between your shoulder blades. You don’t go to parties anymore, for a multitude of reasons, the dread in your stomach threatening to churn when you check your phone. How the fuck is it barely 9pm? You’d promised your best friend you’d stop by and stay for at least an hour, resigning yourself to people watching and anxiety suppressing after a mere five minutes of chatting with them, ending with your firm encouragement to Go talk to them! I’ll be fine! They’re totally eyeing you!

“I’m too fucking old for this,” you grumble, frustration swallowed by that same feeling, eyes squeezing shut in denial, nose scrunching as you tip your head back to down the rest of your drink, “Shit.”

A glimmer of deep red in your peripheral is your only warning, and then a heavy, aching scent fills your lung, cough forced from your chest as panic surges.

“Why are you here?”

His voice slices through your panic, soft and foreboding, so different from his typical enthusiastic exuberance — so different from when he was someone. When he was Kyojuro.

“Why are you here?” he asks again. Demands.

“Hi,” you manage to wave, awkwardness tingling in your fingers, “I’m leaving soon,” biting your tongue to stop the instinctive I promise from spilling onto his perfectly ironed button down.

“Good.”

“Y’know,” you blurt, confused by his stillness, dazed by his proximity, “I’m allowed to go to parties.”

His mouth twists into something bitter and ugly, tone bland, throat tightening, “I am aware.”

“So don’t be such an asshole,” you huff, irritation momentarily collapsing your pit of melancholy, “You look out of place too,” muttered petulantly, wishing he didn’t look so appealing, shoulders broad with tension and, “Are you angry or sad?”

“Do not act so casually toward me,” he bites, loneliness swelling with the urge to pluck your red solo cup from your grip — to offer you his trembling hand instead, “You ruined me.”

That coaxes a rough laugh from you, fleeting tenderness replaced by an uncanny smile, panic turned to dust in the wake of his righteousness.

“Tell me, then, tell me exactly how I ruined you.”

“I thought you were leaving.”

“Aww, are you too good for me now?” you scowl, arms crossing, “I’m sure you found somebody to fix you up after I ruined you. I bet it wasn’t hard either, moving on to another warm body, what with how pretty and perf-”

You would’ve missed his interjection if you weren’t clinging to every breath of his kissing your forehead, so close you could comfort him. You could trace the shadows under his eyes with the plush of your thumbs. Could caress the strain from his limbs. Tautness melting as you coat him with forgiveness. Could, but you won’t.

He nearly chokes on a stifled sob, hating himself for even looking at you, “You were never a warm body to me,” hating himself for ever losing you.

“So what happened to your heart?” you scoff, sick on the high of hurting him, desperate to let him go, “How exactly did I ruin you?”

“You taught me how to love you, and nobody else.”

You snort, his facade unraveling word by word, steel in his sternum as you stare cruelly, “Well isn’t that cliche.”

“I want to hold you. I want to hold you, and watch the sun rise on your face. I want to feel your eyelashes flutter against my cheek when you wake, just as they do when you drift to sleep. I want to see your nose crinkle when you smell my morning breath, to hear you giggle as I kiss you anyway. I…”

How he hasn’t let any tears fall yet, he’s not quite sure. He suspects it has to do with the thinness of your lips, or the steadfast silence with which you listen to him, not a sliver of gentleness evident as he eviscerates himself. For you.

“… I miss you. I miss you, and I apologize, and… I, I have no desire to learn how to love anyone new.”

“And I have no desire to be loved by you,” you lie to him, point blank, recoil more violent than a gun, “I’m leaving.”

If Kyojuro slinks from party to party, weekend after weekend, month after month, a year and running, hoping to catch a glimpse of your regret, then you’re none the wiser.

[save-the-villainous-cat]

ENEMIES WITH BENEFITS WITH ANGST AND PINING 😭😭😭 I BEG

“You’re leaving,” the villain whispered.

“Have I ever told you about my favourite part of hooking up with you?”

The villain looked up from their coffee. I have a mission. I’ll be back in three months. The words echoed in their mind, feasting on it like a wicked parasite. Three months were endurable but that didn’t make the situation painless.

“I suppose finishing?” the villain guessed. The hero laughed and the villain realised they could get drunk on this sound. God, they felt like a fucking clown, longing for someone they weren’t supposed to have.

No one had ever made the villain feel loved. A difficult childhood, traumatising teenage years and horrible first years of being an adult made them feel worthless at best and redundant at worst.

“I mean, I like that part a lot, don’t get me wrong. Especially when you actually do let me finish.” The villain felt their cheeks burn. Sometimes they feared they were going too far but the hero seemed to enjoy to be told what to do. “But no. My favourite part is when you’re sleepy in the morning and the early sun dips your face in orange light. You always look so soft.”

“I am not soft,” the villain reminded them.

“Not always,” the hero agreed. “But despite what you want the world to believe, I’ve seen the truth and you can’t take that from me.”

“You’re leaving,” the villain said again. They looked at the hero on the opposite side of the table. Messy hair, sleepy eyes, bruised neck. There were even some older hickeys on their chest from another session a few days ago. The villain didn’t want them to disappear.

“I have no choice. It’s my job.” They sighed and took a sip of tea.

“We always have a choice.” The villain’s voice was as bitter as their thoughts. The hero would leave them. They would forget about them. They would find someone else. Three months were enough to forget.

“Oh, don’t be angry with me,” the hero said gently. “You’ll find another way to relieve stress. It’s just three months. You’ll find that I’m pretty easily replaceable when it comes to lovers.”

“I don’t want another way,” the villain said. They felt how angry they were getting. They wanted one person. Just one person on this entire earth. Of course that was too much to ask for.

The hero observed them for a while. They didn’t say anything at first but when they did, their voice was soft enough to invoke some kind of melancholy in the villain.

“Is this getting to you?”

“You wouldn’t understand it,” the villain answered. They stared at nothing in particular, angry at themselves, angry at the world, angry at destiny or whatever the fuck was controlling their way.

“I’m fairly certain I’d be the only one who’d understand,” the hero said. They’d always been good at soothing the villain. It was scary how synchronised their thoughts could be.

“Fine. This is getting to me. I can’t explain it. But I’m afraid I’ll always think of you when I look into my future spouse’s eyes in a decade or so. I’m afraid that I’ll always see a fraction of you when I’m in bed with someone else. And now you’ll leave me and I won’t be able to kill those thoughts. There won’t be any reassurance without you.”

“You know I will return, right?” The hero smiled sweetly at them, their beautiful eyes shining. “We can figure it out, I promise.”

“Then why does this feel like a goodbye for good?”

The hero leaned forward and took the villain’s hand.

“Because you’re overthinking. Everything will be alright, I promise. We’ll see each other in three months, I promise.” They squeezed their hand and the villain’s heart skipped a few beats.

However, the hero never returned. They died a day before the mission was completed.

[secretwhumplair]

Solstice, p.0

701 words | No Warrior (sequel to Swords)

Content | Fear, angst, low self-worth

Notes | Runar telling Yves about upcoming community events. With ~everyone~! How fun!

Taglist | @just-a-whumping-racoon-with-wifi​​ @castielamigos-whump-side-blog​​ @whump-me-all-night-long​​​​ @whumpadump1939​​ @thingsthatgo-whump-inthenight​​ @whumpzone​​ @angel-stars​​ @kixngiggles​​ @whumpsy-daisies​​ @briars7​​ @yet-another-heathen​​ @rosesareviolentlyread​​ @cupcakes-and-pain​​ @hollowtreesinhollowwoods​​ @pleasancies​​ @much-ado-about-whumping​​ @nine-tailed-whump​​ @whump-em​​​ @itsleighlove​​ @newbornwhumperfly​​​ @tears-and-lilies @deluxewhump @whump-cravings @wolfeyedwitch @melancholy-in-the-morning @neverthelass @whumpsday

They were sitting at breakfast together when Runar began, »Yves, s̸̷͜͟͜͞͡͡ẁ̶̶̴̡̢̡͏e̴̶̢͘͟͟͞͏e͡҉̡̛́́͢͜t̴̢͡҉̵̀͢͞h҉̴̶̶̡̨̢͠ȩ̸̡̛̕͜͠͞a̸̷̛̕͘͡͞͡r̶̴̸̡͜͜͝͞t̨̨́͜͠͡҉҉, there’s something I wanted to talk to you about. The ś̷̡͡͏̸͘͟ơ̵̸̴̛̕͘͜l̛̛͜͏̶̀͢͝ş̴̷̵̕҉̷͘t̨̀͘̕͢͡͡͞í̷̶̡̢̨͟͜c̷̶̡̛̛̀͟͠e͡҉̡̢̛̀͡҉ is coming up.«

It wasn’t a word Yves had heard before, but it only gave him the briefest rush of anxiety. »The what?«

»Oh. The. Days will start to get longer again. The s̵ól̕s̴t̶i͡c̢e̕.«

Yves nodded; the concept he was familiar with. And it must be coming up; he hadn’t kept exact track of time, he couldn’t have - he didn’t even know, it occurred to him, when he had been rescued, how long he had been stuck in the cold, cruel bowels of the order’s castle. He idly appreciated the way he did think of it as a rescue now, the way he so very much hadn’t when Runar first laid hands on him.

But he knew it had been winter, and days had kept getting shorter, for entirely too long, and he was relieved to hear the tipping point was close.

It must have pulled a smile from him, because Runar smiled back at him.

»We’re having a big celebration. There’s going to be a bonfire and lots of food and dancing… Do you want to come?«

Yves wished he didn’t even have to think twice about it. But the thought of all the warriors assembled, a whole crowd of people surrounding him-

»Is Brandr going to be there?« He hated how small his voice sounded.

»Yes.« Runar put the word down gently like a soft little animal. »Everyone is.«

Of course. It was a solstice festival. Of course everyone would be there. How could he be so-

»But I promise I won’t leave you alone. Signy can help if I need to for a bit. It’s going to be alright.«

But it wasn’t. It already wasn’t alright. He didn’t want to need to be looked after like a pathetic child. He wanted to stand up for himself. It was a festival. He wanted to have fun. That was what festivals were for.

It had become such an alien concept - fun.

He hugged himself. »I want to come,« he murmured, and it was totally true. If only it didn’t seem so dangerous.

Runar sadly smiled at him. »You’ll be safe, I promise. But you don’t have to go if you’re uncomfortable.«

Yves considered this, considered staying alone in this hut when the whole village, including everyone who cared about him, was at a festivity someone else could easily sneak away from to find him-

There were no good options, and a bitter little voice inside him asked why he would have expected there would be.

But he wanted to go. He wanted to go and laugh and dance and enjoy himself.

He felt the tears welling up. It used to be so easy. And now - now he could barely imagine it.

He just wanted it back. He was so tired of always being afraid.

»Yves.« Runar reached out and put a hand over his. He almost flinched, and that was enough to make the tears spill over. »Hey. It’s alright, s̢̨̛͘͡͞͠͞ẁ̶̷̨̕͢͢͜e̷̶̸̢͘̕͠͡ę̷̸̛́͘͢͝t̀͘͢͟͏̵̸̶h̶̶̷̷̀͜͞͝e̶̵̢̡̛͞͞͏a̧̧͟͝҉̵́͢r̴̸̡̕͏̡̡͟t̷̨̛҉̵͢͟͡.«

»I’m so - I’m just so tired of this. It’s a celebration, isn’t it. It should be fun.« He desperately tried to hold back the tears, swallow down his sobs. He balled his hands into fists without thinking, even under the comforting warmth of Runar’s. »I don’t want to be afraid anymore.«

»I know.« Runar gave his fist the gentlest squeeze, so soft it had nothing at all to do with the knights breaking his fingers, even to Yves. »It’s up to you. You can take a little more time before - something like this, if you want. Or you can come along if you feel ready.« When Yves remained silent, he added, »You don’t have to decide right away. Just take the time you need, okay? I will think no less of you, no matter which way you decide.«

The last words took Yves by surprise. How could Runar possibly think less of him, this weak little creature he had to take care of every day?

But then… maybe that wasn’t all he was. He had been working, at the least.

Maybe he could have a life back.

[luvyanfei]

anon said. ooo a new blog! can you do confession headcanons where xiao, childe, and scaramouche react to reader confessing to them and the aftermath of it? thank you!  

a/n. xiao’s is kind of terrible ;; ue ue gomenasai

“i love you, [character’s name].”

SCARAMOUCHE.

huh? is this some kind of a joke? if so, it’s definitely not a good idea to mess with his feelings like this, especially when he also shares the same sentiment. scaramouche is almost impressed by your boldness. not everyone has the nerve to confess their love for a harbinger in front of their own faces, after all. when he’s hit with the realization that you’re serious, he secretly pinches himself to make sure he’s not in a dream.

the sharp pain that comes with his nails making contact with his flesh affirms that this is real. he stifles back a genuine smile, choosing to stay calm despite the bliss he’s currently feeling. “i guess it can’t be helped. hmph, you should be lucky i’m rather fond of you as well, [name].” he says that, but he’s the fortunate one to have successfully stolen your heart before others can claim you for themselves.

unfortunately, his time with you is quite limited due to his affiliation with the fatui, so any fleeting moments are captured in photos from the kamera to look back on. he secretly carries a picture of you while he’s out of town on important missions so that he won’t miss you too badly. he fondly looks at your still, yet smiling face to cheer him up after a tough work while everyone else is asleep. well, almost everyone.  

“hmm, who’s that in your hands, scaramouche?” childe asks, gesturing to the photo the harbinger is admiring fondly. scaramouche rolls his eyes to hide his slight embarrassment and hesitates a bit before he answers.  

“oh them? their name is [name], my... sibling.” childe almost gapes in disbelief as he looks at the blue-haired man in shock. 

“you have a sibling? why didn’t you tell me? they’re so cute!” the 11th harbinger squeals in delight, which honestly irks poor scaramouche. he scoots away to give himself some space as he tucks the picture in his pocket for safe-keeping. 

“you didn’t bother to,” he explains matter-of-factly. “now if you’ll excuse me,” he stands up from his crouched position and dusts himself, “i’m going to take a walk, alone.” 

he wanders through a dark forest and grassy fields, until he finds himself standing on top of a cliff, the moon glowing brightly above. he peers up at the twinkling stars in the sky and imagines you beside him, watching the breathtaking view together. humming an unfamiliar tune to himself, scaramouche muses over the past and replays your confession over and over again. if he could, he would respond differently than he did before. 

‘i love you.’ those three letter words echo in his ears like a melody and he allows himself to smile. 

“i love you too, [name].” 

XIAO.

he automatically perks up an eyebrow in confusion. what? is it just him or did you seriously admitted you love him? xiao stammers for a brief second, no words spilling out from his partially open mouth. what is he supposed to say? “thank you?” “i love you too?” 

when he pulls himself together, xiao shakes his head and frowns. his answer is clear and simple: no. you mortals don’t understand just how dangerous it is to get close with someone like him - a yaksha. drowning in the brink of debt and despair, he doesn’t need you to suffer all the same. the dejected expression on your face pains him to a considerable degree, yet he convinces himself, this is for your own good. 

since then, he avoids you like the plague in hopes that your feelings for him will disperse into flames. you deserve someone better, someone who won’t place you in harm’s way, someone unlike him. out of kindness, you still visit him from time to time while you go and do your daily commissions, but your interaction is heavily tense and an air of discomfort seeps through your gaze. why does his chest hurt as if he was impaled with a knife and so much more when you look at him like that? the thought of breaking down and revealing the truth that he’s also in love with you tempts him eagerly, but his pride and anxiety tides over his desires. 

you, on the other hand, is aware that xiao harbors feelings for you. you discovered this secret of his when you climbed the stairs to the spot on the balcony where he was to surprise him with a greeting, but your ears captured a faint voice in the night breeze and you couldn’t stop yourself from eavesdropping on the little conversation xiao was having with himself. he muttered about “rex lapis”, the fate of liyue, and etc. you were about to leave him to his own devices, but the next words he said stopped you in your tracks. 

“will [name] accept me if i say i love them? probably not, i suppose.” you left before he could spare a glance in your direction and a smile graced your features as you happily walked away. and being the persistent individual that you are, you inquire verr on why he’s acting so cold towards you, desperate to seek the answer you need. “xiao is, as you’re well aware, a yaksha who’s experienced hardships throughout his life, and probably lost loved ones along the way. i’m sure,” she turns to look at the setting sun in melancholy, “he doesn’t want to hurt anyone important to him again.”

you plan ahead of time for the best way to approach him without giving him any chance to escape. unfortunately, this is the only thing you can think of as you place a hand on either side of his head, trapping him between you and the wall. xiao looks at you curiously, devoid of amusement. he crosses his arms and frowns. 

“what are you doing?” your hands twitch and you chew on your bottom lip nervously before you explain yourself.

“i heard from verr why you’ve been giving me the cold shoulder, that you don’t want to hurt anyone important to you, but...” you trail off to blink back the tears threatening to burst. 

“it hurts, when you ignore me like this.” your voice is quiet enough that he needs to step closer to hear you. “it hurts how selfless you are. can’t you be selfish just once? i meant what i said and i’ll say it again. i love you.” 

xiao stammers, at a loss for words, before he starts sniffling and buries himself in your arms, crying out apologies as you stroke the back of his hair and gives a closed-eye smile. “it’s okay, xiao. i’m sorry too, for not realizing how much you’ve been suffering by yourself. you don’t have to carry the burden alone anymore,” you say, looking into his tear-filled eyes, “i will always be here with you, no matter what path you choose to take.” 

“even if that path may eventually hurt you?” he whispers in a cracked voice, fingers curling around your sleeves. you nod. 

“it’s worth the pain as long as i can hold you in my arms, like this.” he chokes out a bitter chuckle and wipes away the glistening tears. 

“i love you too, [name].” 

CHILDE.

the harbinger blinks his cerulean eyes once, then twice, and... you find yourself pulled into his arms, as his lips uplift into a jovial smile. “really? you love me? [name], i had no idea you held such deep admiration for me.” you playfully roll your eyes and chuckle as you wrap your own arms around his body, fondly reciprocating his affection.

he’s the fastest to accept your confession than the other two men. you’d bet he would scamper to where he’s staying at to tell every grain of detail to his adoring relatives. 

he writes letters to his siblings about your daily dates and the progress you two are making in your relationship. they tease him for the most part, but they’re happy that he’s found the love of his life and requests that he bring you along with him on his next visit. childe smiles in relief, content that they accept you already despite never meeting you and he asks you if you’d like to come with him to his home country where you can introduce yourself to his family. without hesitation, you agree instantly, eager to meet the siblings he gushes about. 

snezhnaya is colder than you thought, as you hug yourself to preserve your warmth, even with the layers of clothing wrapped around you. “we’re almost there, [name].” childe notices your trembling and rubs his gloved hands against your back. “sorry, it’s a bit chilly here, but please bear with me.” 

you nod and continue on. when a building enters your field of sight, childe stops and grins shyly at you. “this is the place.” breath materializes in front of you as he gestures for you to head on in. almost immediately are you greeted with a little embrace as a young boy wraps his fingers around your waist and grins up at you. 

“so you’re the one who big brother said he’s in love with? have you kissed before? when is your wedding?” the child bombards you with questions excitedly and a girl has to pull him away from you, tonia, you guess. 

“teucer,” childe scolds gently, a light blush colouring his cheeks, which does not go unnoticed in his siblings’ eyes, unfortunately for him. 

a wedding, huh? seeing the sparkle in your eyes, the laughter in your voice, and the warmth of your touch as you idly chat with his siblings makes him hope, that maybe in the distant future, he’ll brave himself to take the next step to further deepen your relationship, for he wants to be with you always. 

as he tucks away the last sleeping child, childe wanders in to your shared bedroom, surprised you’re still awake. “you really love them a lot, huh childe?” he nods seriously, as you pull him to lie down comfortably into bed. 

“but do you know something else?” his breath tickles your ear as he intertwines his fingers with yours, offering a meek smile. you shake your head and nuzzle closer to him. 

“i love you too, [name].” 

[honeymoonjin]

ᴘᴀɪʀɪɴɢ: ot7 x reader || ᴡᴏʀᴅ ᴄᴏᴜɴᴛ: 7.1k || ɢᴇɴʀᴇ: smut - rated 18+

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ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢs: both non-sexual and sexual pet play, dom!jimin, sub!jk, sub!tae, handjob, yoongi and yn pretending like they don't wanna suck the souls out of each other, exhibitionism, voyeurism, mutual masturbation

A/N: welcome back to my best boys ;;;;-; this chapter is being cross-posted from ao3. in the future i'll try and upload in both places at the same time!

DAY TWENTY-THREE

It’s two blocks of pure ice that wake Taehyung up that Tuesday morning. Before he’s even really coherent, he’s hissing and tucking into a ball away from the cold.

“Puppy, shh, it’s just me.”

Even as those chilled items that Tae can tentatively identify as feet tuck between his bare legs, he goes lax and accepts the body that wraps around his curled back. “Minnie,” he mumbles, and it’s so quiet that the older boy probably doesn’t hear, but his grip tightens anyway. “‘What time ‘s it?”

“Early, I’m sorry.” Jimin’s voice, unlike his thawing toes, blows warm across the back of Taehyung’s neck. “Missed you.”

A sleepy smile of bliss crosses Taehyung’s face for exactly three seconds, at which point he recalls the fact that he didn’t go to sleep alone tonight. Shooting up so quickly that his shoulder catches Jimin’s chin, Taehyung peels his eyes open to see Jungkook, awkwardly hugging a pillow to his chest with his legs crossed.

He bites his lip, avoiding their gazes. “Sorry, I, uh, don’t mean to disturb.”

“Shoot.” Jimin rubs his face blearily. “I didn’t see you there, Jungkookie. I should go-”

“No, no, stay,” Taehyung begs hurriedly, launching himself back onto the mattress and wiggling himself back into the curve of Jimin’s front. “Jungkook, um, you can come cuddle too if you want. I like being middle spoon.”

The youngest gazes back and forth at them, never resting long enough for eye contact. His indecision is palpable, but there’s a pleased glimmer too. “Is that...okay with Jimin-hyung? I don’t wanna intrude.”

Jimin’s voice is soft, his eyes slipping closed as he eases his face into the crook of Taehyung’s neck, arms snaking around his torso. “You can be a part of us too, Jungkookie.”

The words are perhaps more intimate than Jimin even realises, and in the vulnerable setting of a bed in the early morning hours, Jungkook’s hard swallow is audible, before he slowly puts the pillow aside and tucks his feet under the covers, slipping down. It’s not until Taehyung’s arm is his headrest and the other one provides a comforting weight low on his hips that he speaks up again. “Do you… do you mean that just for now, or… Or for good?”

“What do you think, Minnie?” Taehyung’s fingertips trace lazily over the bare skin that’s exposed by Jungkook’s shirt riding up. “Can we keep him?”

Jimin hums in affirmation. He’s just about asleep again, but Taehyung can feel his pleased smile against his shoulder. “Of course we can, puppy.”

The repeated nickname causes Taehyung’s heart to twitch just as his dick does. It’s no less endearing and special, but Jungkook is still perfectly awake and right there, and it feels a little confronting.

But Jungkook just chuckles, twisting around in Taehyung’s slack embrace to face him, eyes bright. “If you’re a puppy, what am I?”

Taehyung’s careful not to jostle Jimin. He’s begun snoring, nothing more audible than regular snuffling, but still Tae doesn’t want to disturb that rest. “What do you mean, Jungkookie?”

He scrunches his nose, thinking away. “Well, there’s Minnie and there’s puppy. I want a cute nickname too if I’m gonna be - you know - with you guys.”

“Jungkook,” Taehyung begins haltingly, “Jimin calls me puppy because… God, it feels silly saying it out loud. He calls me puppy because sometimes when we’re together I go into puppyspace. You know; like petplay.”

“That’s not silly,” Jungkook says reflexively, even as his eyes widen and lips part. “What’s it like?”

“Puppyspace?” Taehyung asks. Jungkook nods eagerly, and the motion is transferred through Tae where they connect, making Jimin grunt and bury his nose deeper into the crook of his neck. “It’s so peaceful, Jungkookie. He takes care of me so I don’t have to think. I can nap and cuddle and play, without all of the stresses of life. It feels all warm and cosy, you know? I love it.”

Jungkook’s eyes sparkle in wonder, his fingers finding their way to Taehyung’s worn black sleepshirt, fiddling with the hem. “Can I try? How do you… how do you know if you can do it?”

Behind Taehyung, Jimin lets out a half-asleep groan, his nose pressing against the taller one’s back. “Of course you can try. Let’s just sleep for now, though? I’m sure Minnie can play with both of us later.”

It’s that promise that allows Jungkook to settle, nodding with a tentative hum and shifting down so that his head can rest in the crook of Taehyung’s neck. Taehyung falls back under like this, with a heartbeat thrumming against his back and soft, even breaths tickling his bared shoulder.

--

“Hobi?”

Hoseok pauses, frothed toothbrush clamped between his teeth. “Mmng?”

“I don’t-” you cut yourself off, clearing your throat to dislodge the thickness that distorts your voice. “Can we not tell them?”

He bends over to quickly spit out the majority of toothpaste, but when he stands upright to face you again there’s a smear on his chin. “Tell them what?”

You blink. “Last night. I just… I don’t want them to- to pity me or treat me like I’m glass or anything. I know it won’t happen again, it was just…” Shrugging hopelessly, you give up on trying to put words to it. “I don’t know.”

The dom remains silent for a few moments, lips pursed in thought. “The chicken must have been bad,” he concludes.

Bewildered, you cock your head to the side. “Huh? What chicken?”

“You and I went out for dinner at this fried chicken place, but when you got home last night it made you sick. That’s why you aren’t quite yourself today. I’ll get Yoongi-hyung to make some hangover soup.” His eyes are warm, pulling you into a comforting one-armed hug. “Just the chicken, that’s all. Yeah?”

You swallow down the swell of gratitude and instead bury yourself into his safe embrace. “Yeah. That’s all.”

To his credit, Yoongi doesn’t ask questions, pushing all his concern into his cooking. The doctor all but feeds you himself, hovering with a furrowed brow and a napkin. Strangely enough, his fussing goes a long way in cheering you up, and you let the events of yesterday wash away with the salty broth.

Hoseok hangs around for a while before going down to do some laundry, Namjoon briefly jumps in to steal a spoonful directly from the pan, eyes never leaving the novel he’s holding open with a single hand. Even Jungkook stumbles in blearily at one point, nose first, requesting an extra two bowls for Jimin and Taehyung as well.

You’re onto your second serving by the time it’s just Yoongi and you. He’s pulled up a chair beside you, cradling a coffee. “I got a text this morning, you know,” he begins gently. “I can ignore it if you’re not up to it.”

It takes you a moment to process his words, recalling Sejin’s instructions the day prior. “It’s your day, then?” He nods silently, scanning you for any reaction. You hum, spoon swirling lazily in the dregs of your breakfast. “I’m up to it,” you answer finally, “if you are.”

“Always,” Yoongi replies immediately, voice bared and soft. His hand passes over yours, squeezing briefly, before he stands up and clears the bowls from the table. “Aspirin is in the pantry if you need it, blue container.”

You give him your thanks, left alone as he disappears upstairs.

Grabbing a glass and pouring yourself some water, you track down the aspirin and take out two tablets, grimacing as the bitterness sticks to your tongue. While you may not actually be sick, a headache was beginning to bloom between your brows.

So much had happened in the past few days, you almost felt like you’d gotten whiplash. The early days of lounging around the house and chasing pleasure seemed so distant. Feelings tangled things up more each day, unraveling quicker than you can get a hold on them.

It wasn’t just you, either. You saw the way the guys looked at each other, how gentle they were, how thoughtful. It was in the little things. Jungkook’s laundry pile started featuring clothes from the other maknaes; Namjoon and Hoseok always sat so close together, even when there was room on the couch; Yoongi had started giving the others bigger portions when he cooked, even as his stayed the same. And Jin…

You startle when a door opens, glass almost slipping from your hands. It’s the unfilmed room across the stairs. You frown as a tall figure slips out, swamped in a massive pink hoodie that you’d never seen in the house before. A sleeve-covered hand reaches up to rub under the hood, dark hair poking out. Your breath catches. Jin…

He moves across the hall gingerly like his body aches, hand never leaving his face as he grumbles sleepily. For a split second, your mind entertains the thought of sprinting past before he sees you, avoiding the conflict that is no doubt upon you.

But only for a split second. Because the only thing worse than being confronted by him is not seeing him at all. You wait, instead, until he rolls his shoulders back, tipping his face to the ceiling to stretch out his spine. The hood falls back, exposing a serious case of bedhead, tired eyes, and sallow skin. But it’s Jin nonetheless, beautiful despite his apparent exhaustion, and your heart breaks again for being the one to cause this.

He notices you when his head comes back down from the stretch, and were you not in such despair you may have cracked a smile at the way he jumps. “Y/n…” he mumbles, voice barely audible.

Your mouth goes dry. Even if it wasn’t you don’t know what to say, simply bracing yourself for anger.

He doesn’t stiffen his features, however, simply watching you with melancholy eyes. “You look sad,” he says weakly.

Your heart is racing a hundred beats a second at just hearing him speak to you, and it takes you that much time just to process his words, eyes pricking sharply. “I am sad,” you reply honestly, blinking the wetness away. “You look tired,” you whisper in return.

His bottom lip trembles, before flattening tightly. Instead of responding verbally, he just nods.

The two of you sit in that silence for a while. Jin’s breathing is ragged, his eyes unfocused as they slip past you. You think you might be sick with the way your stomach flips.

Finally, you can’t stand the silence. “Are you still mad at-” you begin, but your words die in your throat as you’re enveloped tightly by him, clutching you so close that your chest constricts. The tensed breath you didn’t know you were holding rushes out of you with a sob, and your arms fly up to hug him back, just as tightly.

There’s nothing more than just a simple hug, but your heart is still full, almost overwhelmed by the cathartic relief of having him close to you again, his chin resting on the crown of your head, his hands rubbing circles on your back, the gentle sway as he rocks you in the hold.

It lasts for an eternity too short, and when he pulls away you feel untethered, already pining for that contact again.

His eyes are swimming, though you see the way he tightens his jaw to hold it back. “I’m devastated,” he admits, “but I miss you too much to ice you out like this. I need time but god, I don’t want space. Can you give me time?”

You’re nodding hastily, sniffing as your nose threatens to run. “Of course, Jin. I’ll be here. I… I think I-”

“Don’t-” he interrupts sharply, sucking in a shaky breath. “Don’t let now be the first time we say it. Later,” he promises.

We. Your skin breaks out in goosebumps, electricity thrumming along your nerves. You let that word settle you, repeating it in your head as Jin sends you a sad smile - but a smile nonetheless - and takes his leave, disappearing upstairs.

You decide to take a bath, in the end, letting yourself soak in the thought of “we” a little longer.

--

“So, what, we start barking? Chew on some sticks?”

Taehyung colours violently and Jimin sends Jungkook a sharp glare in rebuke. “Say less,” he scolds the youngest, before reaching up to run his fingers through Taehyung’s hair, breaking up the curls. “We just ease into it. Taehyung doesn’t use it for humiliation or anything like that, he just likes being taken care of. Isn’t that right, pup?”

Taehyung hums, eyes already fluttering as he leans his head into Jimin’s palm. The three of them had migrated onto Taehyung’s now-made bed after their breakfast after Jungkook once again mentioned wanting to try petplay.

Significantly larger than Jimin, Taehyung has to awkwardly shuffle down the mattress further to rest his head in Jimin’s lap, but Jungkook can immediately see the lines of stress that melt away once he does so. Jimin smooths his hand down to cup the younger’s chin, delicately stroking the soft flesh as if he were patting a sleepy dog.

“You’ll just watch for now,” Jimin instructs Jungkook without removing his gaze from Taehyung, “and if it feels right, you can join in. There are no expectations and no rules, only to respect the process and don’t disrupt Tae’s petspace. Got it?”

Jungkook swallows as Jimin chooses that point to lift his steeled gaze, brows high as he waits for Jungkook to agree. “Got it,” the youngest confirms. He gets comfy, tucking his feet under him and leaning up against the pillows.

“Such a lucky boy,” the dom begins with his voice like melted sugar. “Dogs aren’t meant to be up on the furniture. But you’ve been good lately, so I thought I’d treat you.”

Taehyung’s eyes flutter closed. He shuffles slightly, stretching one leg out until his ankle dangles off the edge of the mattress, but doesn’t audibly respond.

Jimin chuckles fondly through his nose, hand running down to rub up and down Taehyung’s clothed tummy, which is now facing upwards. “Oh, pup,” he coos, “you must be tired after the big walk. How about we rest for a bit, and we can play later?” Instead of waiting for a response, the dom just gasps like he’s forgotten something important. “Oh! Your collar! I must’ve taken it off when I took off the leash. Never mind; Jungkook, dear, could you get me the brush and collar out of the bedside table? Bottom drawer.”

It feels like the very particles in the air shift when Jungkook is ripped away from the observer role and into an active participant. He swallows away the dryness in his throat to little avail and nods, fumbling with the drawer handle and pulling out a barely-used hairbrush and velvet dog collar. “These?” he asks redundantly, nerves settling when Jimin gives him a pleased smile and holds out his hand.

“Alright, little puppy,” Jimin announces, his voice lilting easily back into the candyfloss tone that all owners used with their pets. “Let’s give you a brush before we put your collar back on. I don’t want your coat getting matted.”

Taehyung gives a small, throaty hum and lifts himself laboriously up onto his elbows, tipping his head up to his master. Jimin pats his cheek warmly and calls him a good boy, and Jungkook gets a front row seat to the beautiful sight of a sleepy, lusty Kim Taehyung going pink in the face, a shy smile twitching his lip.

‘Brushing his coat’ is just brushing his hair, but even Jungkook can see that the technique is slightly different. Jimin does it slowly, methodically, line by line from the front to the back, then reaching around to the nape of his neck to give it a good brushing there - Taehyung all but shivers at each swoop of the brush - even folding down each ear when he goes past. Watching it is nothing short of mesmerising, and Jungkook feels his spine tingle, wanting to feel it too.

Was it too soon to join? He could always ask for the brush later, he decided. Though even as he reached that conclusion, the thought was slipping out of his mind sand through fingers, hazier and hazier the more he listened to Jimin’s lull tone and watched his patient movements.

“There we go,” the dom whispers, passing the brush over one last time to settle all the curls in their rightful place, “much better now. Chin up, pup; time for your collar.”

Taehyung’s chin lifts the minutest of degrees. Jimin waits for a moment, but the brown-haired boy looks almost like he’s falling asleep on the spot, swaying slightly as his elbows prop him up.

“Silly me,” Jimin tuts with a smile, reaching out to manually adjust Taehyung how he wants him. “Doggies can’t understand human words, can they?” Like a proud parent, he turns to Jungkook, grin widening as he sees the state the boy is in. “I am trying to teach Tae-tae some commands. Sit, lie down, wait. Suck. He’s getting better.”

With that, the dom grabs the collar off the duvet and fiddles with the buckle, undoing it so that he can wrap it carefully around Taehyung’s neck. The process reminds Jungkook much of what happened when his parents put a collar on his childhood dog: slipping a finger under the material to test how snug it was, shifting it around until the small dangling pendant was to the front, giving it a little tug to ensure the buckle was on right.

At the gentle tug, Taehyung practically topples, going lax with his face down on Jimin’s thigh and snuggling down, breaths even. Jimin doesn’t comment on it, simply humming in acknowledgement and returning to softly stroking his back and shoulders. But he does glance over to Jungkook again, eyes glinting. “Do you wanna come a little closer, hm?”

At the invitation, Jungkook almost trips himself scooting over, wrapping his arms around one of Jimin’s and holding it to his chest. Seeing the tender moment shared between Taehyung and Jimin had made him feel positively touch-starved, desperate to feel some of that sweet attention.

Jimin’s eyes widen in bemusement before twisting his hand in Jungkook’s grip and giving his stomach a little scratch. “Goodness me, little energizer bunny, huh?”

Jungkook whines, recognising that higher-pitched voice. He was being talked to like a pet, and the thought made his insides hot. He presses his face against Jimin’s shoulder, feeling the heat on his skin there too.

“No need to get all shy on me now, bun,” Jimin teases. “I’ve already seen that little friend in your pants. Well, I suppose he’s not that little.”

Jungkook tightens his arms around Jimin’s one, wanting to rock his hips up to feel some friction. He just squirms instead, hoping his need is answered. “Jimin-hyung.”

Jimin sucks in a breath. “Can this bunny speak, hm?”

Jungkook blinks, the furnace inside him cooling for a moment. “Am I not… supposed to?”

“I’m not telling you off, I’m asking,” Jimin explains softly, cocking his head down at the potentially-sleeping Taehyung in his lap. “Tae-tae likes to be non-verbal. It’s just preference. Would you rather keep speaking?”

After a moment of thought, Jungkook nods, then props his chin up, sending Jimin his best puppy eyes. “Minnie, I need you,” he pleads in a small voice, writhing against him again.

Jungkook’s fingers curl when Jimin’s hand dips lower suddenly, grasping his length from over the fabric of his sleep shorts. The pleasure is like a bolt that shocks his whole body, and when Jimin strokes him once, the texture of the fabric increasing the friction, the guttural sound that falls from his lips is more animal than human.

Jimin just smiles placidly, patting the throbbing heat once. “Does it hurt, bun? Want me to make it go away?”

“Y-yeah.” Jungkook’s breath is shallow with excitement. This feels like new territory, relying fully on Jimin to relieve the ache, too helpless, too stupid to do anything about it himself, just a dumb bunny with a generous owner.

“You’re drooling, bun,” Jimin points out, voice raspy with arousal. “Don’t worry, I’ll take care of you.”

Jungkook feels fingers at the elastic band of his shorts before Jimin withdraws. He whines, a pout threatening to form, but the dom just runs his fingers and palm over Jungkook’s mouth and chin. Then, when his hand delves in and grips Jungkook, he’s slick with Jungkook’s own drool, the slide wet and hot and electric.

He moans, but saliva won’t stop gathering in the hollows of his mouth. It’s like it’s impossible to close it at all, every firm, purposeful stroke making it harder to do that basic function.

“Noisy boy,” Jimin scolds, though there’s no venom to his tone. “You might wake the puppy up, bun.”

With a strangled groan, Jungkook’s head flops down, his teeth banging against Jimin’s shoulder. A thought floats across his dazed mind, of pressing his teeth into skin, lovebites to colour the bronze.

But his teeth don’t sink into flesh. Fabric fills his mouth. Jimin’s shirt. His teeth don’t stop, though. On the contrary, he chews on the cotton, letting it muffle the sounds he can’t help but make.

“Oh, good boy,” Jimin praises warmly, his hand speeding up mercilessly to pitch Jungkook over the edge. There’s no foreplay, no kisses or teasing touches. His hard cock is a problem that his master is kind enough to solve, that Minnie-hyung is making go away, and he won’t stop until his bunny has finally-

When Jungkook comes, his whole body feels it like an earthquake. Every muscle jerks, pulses so that his toes curl and his core trembles, the drool soaking the fabric of Jimin’s shirt now until he feels it run down his own neck, blubbering through the waves of it.

Jimin slows down after the first burst of cum, but doesn’t stop, only tightening his grip like he’s milking every last drop out.

Once the tides of pleasure have dipped back down again, Jungkook goes boneless, whimpering until the hand finally leaves his softening, oversensitive cock.

He’s panting, all of his body weight on Jimin to stay upright, and it takes a few moments for his senses to properly return to him, his heart still beating erratically in his chest. “Oh, fuck.”

Jimin giggles elfishly, before reaching up to tap on Jungkook’s bottom lip with wet fingers. “You made such a mess, little bunny. Clean it up, now.”

Jungkook welcomes the digits, blinking blearily as the bitter tang of his own cum fills his mouth. He sucks Jimin’s fingers clean two at a time, swirling his tongue between them dutifully. It isn’t until he’s done and Jimin is praising him that he restores enough energy to sit up again.

Across from him, Jimin peels the soaking wet sleeve of his shirt off his shoulder, laughing softly in good humour even as his brows furrow at the weird feeling. Before Jungkook can offer up an apology, Jimin is stripping it off entirely, chucking it away and rubbing at his now-bared chest. “Much better,” he muses to himself. After a moment of letting Jungkook clear his head, Jimin turns to him, his dry hand returning to lazily card through Taehyung’s curls. “How was it, Jungkook?”

“Uh,” Jungkook replies eloquently, feeling the way his cock still throbs every few seconds in aftershocks. “Uh.”

“That’s what I thought,” Jimin states proudly, before sending Jungkook a serious gaze. “We’ll talk later, yeah? When your dick isn’t hanging out.”

Jungkook flushes, scrambles to tuck himself away, and the movement jostles the bed enough that Taehyung groans, craning his neck up with bleary eyes and rumpled hair.

The two sitting on the bed go silent. Jimin cocks his head to the side and cups Taehyung’s cheek. “Were you- Tae-tae, did you just have a nap in the middle of the scene?”

Taehyung beams sleepily, eyes still lidded. “Mm.”

“Tae! Are you out of petspace now?”

“Think so.” With a dramatically loud cry, Taehyung reaches an arm up into a deep, arching stretch, rubbing at his eyes once he’s done. “Mm, yeah, definitely. My foot has kinda gone dead too.”

As Taehyung sits up to rub at his foot, pressing his thumbs into the muscle, Jimin’s shoulders sink with a deep pout. “Tae-tae,” he whines again, “you know I like playing with puppy.”

“Sorry,” Taehyung replies easily, though it doesn’t sound like he is in the slightest, “I guess I just wanted to destress more than anything. I didn’t sleep so well last night.”

Jimin’s face softens, his complaints dissolved at Taehyung’s words. Without a verbal reply, he just reaches out, hooks his finger on the neckline of Taehyung’s shirt, and pulls him in for a kiss, humming into it slightly.

The movements, the touches are so natural and intimate that Jungkook feels like he’s intruding. It only lasts a moment before they break apart to go shower, but it’s enough time to sear the sight behind Jungkook’s eyelids. Maybe he’d been allowed to join them in their scenes, even cuddle with them, but he wasn’t a part of that bond that tied Jimin and Taehyung so strongly together. The thought sinks in his stomach, and he decides to skip the shower, getting dressed instead for a long workout downstairs.

--

When you knock on his door, Yoongi is at his desk, a pair of black-framed reading glasses perched on the bridge of his nose. He glances up, an eyebrow lifting in mild surprise.

“To what do I owe the pleasure?”

You muffle a smile at his domestic getup - a grey t-shirt hangs off, far too big for him but outlining his chest and strong shoulders nonetheless, and his long black sweatpants all but cover his bare feet, toes tapping the carpet unconsciously as he waits for your reply. “I’ve been informed that today is your day.”

“Ah, checking in to the Fuck Hotel, I see,” he quips casually, slipping his glasses of and shutting the lid of the laptop he was working on. “We do have one vacancy.”

“Is that so?” you say, unable to stop your grin as he stands up from his office chair and rolls his head back like an athlete warming up.

“Comes with a continental breakfast,” he assures, before ducking his head with a sheepish chuckle. “God, hyung is becoming a bad influence on my sense of humour.” With slightly pink cheeks, he stretches out a hand towards you, before jerking it back and freezing, fingers curled and tensed. “Wait. Shit.”

You frown, glancing down at yourself, but nothing seems out of the ordinary. “What is it?”

“Hm. I just remembered my prompt, is all.” He takes a step back with a thoughtful furrow of his brows, clenching his hands into fists and putting them behind himself. “Dammit, I was meant to think of a game plan but I got distracted sorting out- uh- client emails.”

“Was this a bad time?” you ask with a light laugh, even as you cast a guilty glance towards the laptop. A month in and he was still doing work?

“No! No, it’s fine, it’s just…” Wincing, Yoongi scratches at the back of his neck and takes another step back, gesturing down at himself, and at the messy work desk. “I’m not in sexy mode yet. I look like a stay-at-home dad trying to work out how to order groceries online while my toddler is finally having her 2pm nap.”

You pause before an incredulous laugh bubbles out of your throat. “Okay, first of all, I think stay-at-home dads are very sexy, and I happen to think that you are very sexy. Secondly, ‘her?’ Why was that whole analogy so specific?”

Yoongi huffs defensively, petulantly throwing himself down to sit on the bed with his legs splayed wide. “I used to have a life plan, okay? But that’s not relevant now. The point is, I haven’t worked out how to do a good scene. I don’t want to it to be disappointing. Or, god forbid, boring.”

Your frown just deepens. “It doesn’t need to be an elaborate setup, Yoongi. Just fuck me. Touch me, at least. I can’t believe we’re still both wearing all our clothes when I’ve been very explicit about my intentions.”

You don’t miss the wince that flutters across his face. “That’s kinda the issue. Touching you, I mean.”

“You don’t wanna touch me?”

“I-” Yoongi all but stomps his foot, teeth clenching in frustration. “Of course I fucking want to, but I have to stick to my prompt, Y/n.”

Your mouth drops open. “So your prompt is that we can’t even touch each other? Doesn’t exactly sound very appealing for a porn show.”

He clicks his tongue. “You can still touch me,” he corrects with a dry gaze.

Unconvinced, you narrow your eyes. “Isn’t that convenient?” you question rhetorically. “Gonna make me do all the work this week because you haven’t organised it in your planner yet, Doctor Min?”

He glares at your teasing tone. “Excuse me for trying to play the game properly.” You swallow as his eyes run down your body heavily, pink tongue darting out to wet his lips. “If I could touch you, trust me, I’d have you dripping by now.”

Your thighs tighten, but you force them not to move. The last thing you want him to know is that you’re just about dripping already. “Sounds to me like you’re just lazy.” He doesn’t react, watching you make up your mind. You suck in a breath to hype yourself. “If I walk away right now, you’ll get nothing. Not only will you lose your prompt, but you’ll be stuck with blue balls. But if you give in and fuck me already, then you’ll only lose the prompt.”

“Who says I’ll even have blue balls? I’m perfectly comfortable,” he fires back immediately, tipping his head to the side cockily.

“Oh, please,” you drawl, letting your eyes fall to the sizeable bulge beneath his sweatpants, “you aren’t that big soft. Don’t kid yourself. So do you wanna get off, or not?”

His gaze hardens to stone, jaw flexing. “I’m surprised you think I need you for that. Aside from the fact that there are six other people in this house, I brought a fleshlight from home for a reason.”

Now that is something you hadn’t expected him to say. You freeze from your spot in the doorway, feeling heat pulse between your legs. Your spark of resistance is quickly fading, overtaken by need, so you don’t hesitate in firing back while you can. “If you think your fleshlight is better than me, then that’s your loss. Enjoy the bunkbeds; I’m off to do what you’re too cowardly to.”

“Have fun, sweetheart,” he snips, one of his hands sneaking under his shirt to rub his lower abdomen, fingers slipping below the hem of his sweats. “Shut the door on your way out.”

Feeling like you’ve lost the argument (and a little too horny to care) you have your final say by slamming it, thumping your feet with every step down the hall to your room.

Once inside, it takes mere seconds to throw yourself onto your bed back-first and shove your hand down your pants. But then, before you even dip into your wetness, a thought strikes you.

Pulling your hand out and making your way to your desk, you use your other hand to clumsily type in your password, and open a browser. It doesn’t take long to navigate to the page with all the paid streams for your own show, and with a slight flush you select Yoongi’s bedroom, impatiently punching in your credit card details.

After an agonising wait, the payment is processed and you’re brought to a private livestreaming site, a single window open in front of you.

The angle itself is strange, making Yoongi’s room look larger than it was, but you’re surprised at just how high quality the video and sound is once you bring it to full screen and slip your headphones in your ears. Yoongi is hunched over his nightstand, and you can actually hear the wooden slide faintly in the background as he opens and closes a drawer, returning to his office chair with a seemingly-transparent fleshlight and a bottle of lube.

Something about watching him through a camera in the corner of his room feels so wrong, especially as he palms impatiently at the tent in his pants, uncapping the lube and pouring a generous amount into the opening of the toy. You’d never been much of a voyeur - or, at least, so you thought - but you couldn’t take your eyes off him, blinding slipping your hands down your pants but over your underwear, simply pressing down on your clit to ease some of the crying need.

Oddly, the lube pours down and begins to drip out the other side, creating a dark patch on his clothed thigh. The audio picks up Yoongi cursing, and there’s no further preamble before he’s using one hand to hook down his sweatpants and kick them off to pool on the floor. The motion causes his cock to jerk up onto his stomach, leaving a smear of precum on his grey shirt, visible only by a few pixels of darker grey.

He scoots a little down the seat of the chair and hitches a leg up over one of the arms, eyes slipping closed as the hand not holding the dripping fleshlight grips his own cock, thumb pressing at the head.

“Oh, fuck,” he groans lowly, the sound running through your headphones and straight down between your legs. His brows are furrowed like it’s almost paining him, but he hovers the opening of the fleshlight over his tip as if he’s trying to hold back.

Slowly, he lowers the toy down one inch at a time, until the lube is drooling over his cock. Finally, the transparent toy slips down over his cock and his hips jump off the chair, his knuckles white on the arm of the chair and the fleshlight as he growls and lifts it back off again.

The sight of him intentionally teasing himself is too erotic for you to stay unmoving, and you find yourself burning up, losing the headphones for a moment to shuffle out of your own clothes. You hurry as much as you can, grimacing at your sopping panties, but by the time you’re back in your chair with nothing but a bra and tuning back into the stream, Yoongi’s not even focused on his toy anymore.

It sits propped up on his thigh, with two of his fingers lazily, almost absentmindedly thrusting deeply inside of it to keep it steady as the rest of him swivels in his chair to open his laptop again.

You frown and squint at the tiny screen on the stream. Rows of fuzzy squares stack up, and while you can’t be certain the phallic shapes of some of the miniscule images inside them make you think he was on a sex toy website.

He quickly opens a new tab, however, and your heart begins to beat nervously as a familiar page comes up. One you’d been on just earlier.

With bated breath you wait, hands grasping at the meat of your thighs and clothed breast to hold off on touching between your legs just yet. Yoongi navigates the Bangasm page, going through the same payment process you did.

It isn’t until you’re met with a miniature version of your own room on his screen that you realise what’s happened. And it’s when Yoongi squints and leans in closer, before turning to face the camera directly with a bewildered look, that you know you’ve been caught.

Frozen, you watch the on-screen, Yoongi look back and forth twice, before slowly scooting his chair back on an angle to the table, so that the laptop is in eyeshot even as his body is facing the camera fully.

Your mouth is dry, but the fleshlight he picks up again is wet, so wet that his fingers glisten, almost slipping off the toy entirely. He holds it tightly, transferring it to his dominant hand and teasing the top over his tip, biting hard on his lip.

The squeeze you have on your thigh is almost painful as your core burns, but you’re too stunned still to move, watching him dance the opening of the fleshlight over his cock, never dipping it inside.

With a twitching grin and lusty eyes, he glances towards the laptop. Your whole body feels hot as you glance over your shoulder to the camera in your room, before looking back at the screen. He’s not moving, chest visibly heaving even as he stares patiently at the computer screen.

He’s… waiting for you.

With one strangled breath, you tilt your chair away from the desk, adjusting your own laptop in a similar setup to him. Eyes locked on the stream, terrified you’ll miss a single moment of him indulging himself, you let your fingers uncurl from your inner thigh and trail them down, wasting no time in automatically locating your clit, massaging around the small bud.

Pleasure flows through you like hot water, down to your toes. After holding out for so long, after being so aroused for so long, the simplest touch has your knees weak and your head lolled back against the headrest.

On screen, Yoongi’s grin widens, and he rewards you by lowering the fleshlight, the clear silicone making way for the tip of his cock. He doesn’t stop there like last time, though; instead, he slowly but surely plunges it all the way down until it’s flush with his pelvis. Your eyes fly open when the flushed head pops out the other side, and Yoongi clearly enjoys it too judging by the way he curses and grips it tight, practically panting.

Without really intending, your fingers dip down and slip inside, two already. You barely feel a stretch with how wet you are. Although the feeling of something inside you is nice, you know your fingers just aren’t enough, especially with the angle of you slumped back in your chair.

So, you chance one look back at the screen - Yoongi is using the tip of one finger to spread his precum around the glossed tip of his cock, but his eyes are firmly locked onto you - and walk on shaky legs to your closet, where an unassuming (and so far unused) black silk bag lies amongst your shoes.

The amount of time it takes for you to duck into the bathroom and quickly wash the silicone vibrator you have with soapy water feels like an eternity, and by the time you hurry back it isn’t the toy that’s vibrating.

Frowning, you hesitantly answer the call that’s coming through on your phone from a familiar contact.

Yoongi’s voice immediately fills the room as the pixelated version on the screen rests his phone on the side of his desk, not jerking but twisting the fleshlight in slow arcs around his cock. “Couldn’t get enough of me, hm?”

“Says the one calling me,” you offer back lightly, switching onto speaker mode so that you can settle back in your chair, “enjoying the view?”

“A little too uneventful for me yet, sweetheart,” he teases, and his breathy groan is timed with the Yoongi on the stream lifting the fleshlight up a little and plunging it down again. “How about you put that toy in your pretty little pussy for me. For us.”

You feel your core pulse at the reminder that it wasn’t just Yoongi on the stream. Any number of anonymous strangers could be tuned in right now, seeing you with your legs spread.

The only way to cope is to lean into it instead of shying away. You slide the black silicone toy through your folds to slick it up, sighing with every light pass over your clit. Once it’s as wet as you are, you press the slightly bulbous tip down until it slips inside you, immediately shivering at the feeling.

The toy is small enough that you don’t need any special prep, yet big enough that it was satisfying, and curved just right. It had been your old reliable long before coming on the show, and there’s something strangely familiar and comforting about feeling it fill you out as you push it in deeper.

“Fuck, there we go,” Yoongi praises, and you hear the wet smacking noise of him snapping his hips up into the toy. “I may not be able to touch you, but you’ll still call my name when you cum for me.”

Your toes curl, and you’re no longer able to focus on the stream, letting your eyes fall shut and your ears tune in to his voice alone as you work the toy in and out of you.

He doesn’t waste any time in joining you, and the resulting sounds that fill your room are obscene, him making no effort to muffle the gravelled curses and moans, nor the wet thwack of silicone that gives away his movements.

The noise is somehow even more thrilling than the sight, and the feeling of his eyes on you encourages you to speed your hand up, even reaching down to desperately rub at your clit with the flat of your fingers, shivering at the wave of pleasure that wracks through your body.

It’s not long before you hear Yoongi’s voice turn guttural and the pace of the flesh light pick up frantically.

You wrench your eyes open and gaze blearily at the computer screen just in time to watch the stream of white that spills up through the back end of the fleshlight and over Yoongi’s knuckles. As hot as the image is, you whine at being made to watch this through the pixels instead of in real life, and the thought of being right fucking across from him as he fell apart is enough to make you seize up in your chair, orgasm draining you thoroughly, with not enough force to squirt but dripping on the seat nonetheless.

You take the toy out once pleasure turns to the sharp tweak of oversensitivity and pant, fighting to catch your breath as your feet feel positively numb.

Coming down from your high, you almost forget the running phone call until you hear his voice come through the speaker again. “Have a shower and then come back down to my room. You’re sleeping with me tonight.”

The beeping tone leaves you alone in your room, and you loll your head back over the edge of the chair with an exhausted moan, not without a grin playing on your lips. You wouldn’t protest to that.

[unohanadaydreams]

This was originally an ask I answered quite a while ago that I’ve gone back and edited. It went from 1k to 1.6k words so it’s been significantly reworked, so much so that if you’ve read it before, it’s enough of a new piece that you’ll hopefully enjoy reading it again! I’ve edited the original ask to reflect all changes, but believe me--it’s been through a transformation.

But, yeah, I’ve gotten quite a few asks for hurt/comfort Ukitake so this is an offering for all of you!! He only suffers a lil bit. <3

so close and yet so far from death [1.6k]

Jushiro Ukitake x Reader:

Falling to her knees, Kiyone pressed her blubbering face against the thin door. “He won’t tell us! Not a thing,” she said, like she was struggling to contain a sob.

Sentaro’s arms circling around her waist, he tugged her to a stand.

“We tried our best.” Despite his eyes holding yours, it seemed more a reassurance for the down trodden Kiyone leaning against him.

Your smile was soft when it lifted.

When had they ever failed at keeping their captain first in their hearts and minds?

“Of course, you did,” you said, trying to infuse your thanks into a tender tone. “Thank you for your efforts.”

Relieving them from their post with a squeeze to Sentaro’s shoulder and a ruffle of Kiyone’s hair, you pressed on.

And immediately crouched to the floor, your fingers smoothing over the warm knit blanket tossed in the entry way, your heart squeezing.

Oh, Jushiro.

You smothered your face in the blanket. Breathed in his scent. Desperate to collect yourself with arms full of buttery soft yarn. You waited, crouched and tense, for the knot of tears that pricked at your throat to loosen and dissolve away.

The growing sadness only made the tears spill. How hypocritical of you--wishing  Jushiro would see more than pity in your actions, while you paused here…pitying you both.

With a soft determination, you nodded, brushed tears from warm cheeks.

“Right!” Using the momentum of your renewed hope, you hoisted yourself up, wrapped the blanket around your shoulders, and toed off both your sandals. Your thoughts of ‘poor Jushiro’ left in the doorway with them.

The blanket hugged you, warm and comfortable as you padded across the tatami mat to the backyard. You might have paused longer without the yarn-spun shield--near dead, with Fall smoothly moving to embrace Winter, the garden looked unwelcoming.

The chill of stepping outside slapped at your exposed face in uneven bursts of wind, but you persisted, fingers foisted in the blanket.

You seemed to spot him all at once, as though the slump of his frame had camouflaged him. His bleak mood folding him into the similarly blanched surroundings.

He was without his captain’s coat. The thin, faded kimono he often wore to bed was all that shielded him from the wind’s bite. Strands of his long, bone white hair lifted, like the wind was a mouth, tugging.

You kept your feet steady despite the worry, unsure if the deep concern you felt would cause him to flee; a deer bolting at the first crunch of underbrush.

“Jushiro,” you said. Your voice tensed his shoulders, caused his head to jump as though roused from thought.

Your arms de-tangled from the wool and draped it over his shoulders before you sank beside him. “Your lieutenants are sulking like puppies, you know.”

“Hm. They should be used to it by now,” he said in a melancholy tone that you struggled to hear. Jushiro never spoke about the silly tag team who constantly trailed him like that.

‘Patience be damned,’ you thought. Groaning loud and forceful you smacked your cold hands against your equally frost licked cheeks. “I can’t do it!”

Jushiro finally turned to you, eyebrows raised.

“I can’t stand seeing you so down on yourself,” you carried on, the steam of your outrage warming you, causing your breath to puff in white clouds. “And I’m not leaving until you talk to me!”

He winced, a bitter twist raising his lips at the sight of your hand grabbing for his. “I couldn’t get through the proposal.”

“It was just bad timing.”

His gaze retreated, moving to track flashing scales of sluggish, well-fed koi instead.

“Yes, exactly,” Jushiro croaked. “What if it’s always bad timing? Will you be so understanding when it’s our wedding day that I’m coughing up blood at?”

Your hand tightened around his, rubbing at his pale, thin fingers. “Of course,” you said, trying to contain your frustration. “Jushiro, I love you. I love all of you. Not just when you’re healthy or when life is easy.”

His dark brown eyes met yours for a breathless moment before his hand squeezed back and he laced your fingers together. “You deserve someone like that, -chan. Someone healthy. Who makes life easy.”

You couldn’t have shaken your head with anymore force, wishing you could smash your forehead against his and force every ounce of your feelings through his thick skull. Jushiro’s determination to upend your point tightened your throat.

“No,” you said, voice quivering in frustration. “I deserve the man who proposed to me because he loves me so much he wants to spend his life with me!! I--”

His arms were tugging at your back before you could speak further. Your deep, shuddering breath sucked the cotton fabric against his chest to your lips as you began to cry in earnest.

There was nothing to do but say it once more--”I love you, Jushiro. I do.”

“Oh,” he said, so mournful in his regret. “My dear.”

“Am I?,” you sobbed. “Then why can’t I be your wife, too?”

His hair tickled at your ears as it cascaded over you, his chin sharp against your scalp. “You are--oh, you are.”

He called your name, then again, and again, each utterance more bare than the last. “It’s just like me to forget how far pride forces you from others, isn’t it.”

Jushiro’s lips pressed to the top of your head, the chill of his own tears pooling between the kiss. The proof of his hurt did nothing to satisfy you. But your crying slowed, your arms hugging him, hands meeting behind his shaking back.

“Yes, but you understand now, don’t you? You’re not a sickness I need shielded from.”

Arms almost crushing, he held you tightly, for long minutes that were marked only by soft crying and whistling wind. “Thank you,” he managed after his body had grown steady.

Your tears wet his kimono in a warm pool of relief as he rubbed firm circles against your back. Your hands clutch at his sides, pressing to feel the warm of his body.

“Forgive me, please. I’m just so used to...”--Jushiro grappled for words and you waited for him to wrestle the correct ones down--”keeping it hidden. Only being sick behind closed doors, away from everyone, and coming back when it’s through. There doesn’t seem to be any room for that kind of separation in marriage.”

“No,” you agreed. “I wouldn’t want there to be.”

Tentative, almost too low for you to hear anything but the vibration of his chest, he said, “I don’t want it to be that way either.”

“So, if you understand” you sniffle, muffled by fabric and skin and salty tears, failing at light-hearted. “Are we still getting married?”

Jushiro pushed at your shoulders until you felt the wind drying your tears in a cruel chill. His thin hands cupped your face, thumbs swiping at the damp tracks trailing your cheeks. You did the same for him. “-chan,” he sighed, tender and reassuring. “Would you marry a silly man like me? Through all my sickness and little bits of health?”

Puffs of visible warmth formed between your faces as you chuckled in pathetic, wet hiccups. “Yes. For the second time, yes.”

Jushiro relaxed fully in one large breath as he leaned forward to kiss you, both of you unbothered by the mingling tears wetting your faces or the briny taste of them shared between your tongues.

His hands cradled your back and pressed you fully against him as he deepened the kiss, his head canting to the side. The blanket fell from his shoulders. Tumbling from your reach as you locked your arms around his neck.

Your lips detached from Jushiro’s as a thump sounded from the porch, Shunsui’s voice registering seconds after.

“Well, what did I say, you two?”

Quick enough to bring spots to your eyes, you turned to see Sentaro’s body lying prone against the wood, his fingers shielding a blushed face. Both he and Kiyone looked mortified, yet unable to look away as Shunsui glided toward you.

“C-captain we-we just,” Kiyone said, her teeth chattering in anxiety as she squashed her face with clutching hands, fingers wide enough to allow her eyes an unobstructed view.

“We came to celebrate the newlyweds,” Shunsui interrupted, smoothly raising a large, elegantly decorated bottle of unopened sake. “But don’t let us interrupt you just yet. Sake’s always sweeter with a view, after all. And something tells me it was just getting good.”

Jushiro inhaled deeply as he hugged you close again, but his brown eyes were light, twinkling with humor. “I should thank you to keep that particular gaze away from my future wife.”

Freeing your head with a twist, you eyed Shunsui with a dramatized sniff, your own arms tight around Jushiro’s body. “Sorry, but that was the end of whatever show you were hoping for!”

Shunsui flopped boneless to the porch. With a wink, he began pouring booze into large drinking saucers and you couldn’t help but grin. “Maaa. Just my luck.”

“We’ll be going now, captain!” Kiyone bowed dramatically, tugging at Sentaro’s uniform with enough force to tug it loose from his obi, as she backed away. “We’re so happy for you!”

“Congratulations, captain! I’m the happiest I’ve ever BEEN for you!”

“Everyone’s going to be so excited!!”

“Kiyone! How dare you?! I would NEVER spread this information without our captain’s permission!”

“Wha--no! Captain, I meant when they find out! I would hate even MORE to spread your private information around.”

Your laughter warmed everything inside you. Jushiro’s arms holding you helping just as much.

Thanking them, you and he dismissed them with fond smiles that they took with them, their bickering explosive with relief.

As Jushiro pressed his lips to your cheek and led you to the porch, you were glad for both his and Shunsui’s hand helping you to kneel. Your soul felt so light, without them, you’d surely float away.

[greenygreenland]

Fireflies: Morro x Reader

-i was originally writing this on a whim but saw a request and was like, okay this fits PERFECTLY for that request, so here ya go -okay don’t judge me but I think Morro’s cool -banc is some random guy i made up just now lmaooo -you’re an elemental master and Morro’s childhood friend because yeahhhh

Summary: Humans are insignificant, tiny beings. Your time is drawing near and you’re sure your life was a waste.

Dreams were powerful. They became the very thing that drove people to the edge. But they were also the very thing that drove people forward, and taught them to keep looking up in the dark. When you were young, you used to wish upon a star. You used to lay awake at night, staring at the ceiling in thought.

Now, you couldn’t. Your breaths began to slow, your eyes fluttered open and closed. This was the final blow. Your final stand. Was it really okay to be out here all alone? At least you had the stars and the moon to keep you company. They had lit your way and guided you to your target. If it weren’t for those tiny little specks above, you wouldn’t have completed the stupid mission.

Sometimes you wondered if things could have been different. Before you left the monastery, you should have given Morro a tighter hug, a longer smile, a bigger laugh. You should have told your sensei how much you adored having him around, how much you admired and respected him for what he did. You should have sent another letter to Garmadon and written about how boring it was without having him around. 

There were so many things left unsaid. Unwritten. Forgotten. Why didn’t you cling tighter to them? 

“(Y/n)!” 

Your breath hitched. Was that...?

“(Y/N)!”

You let out a strangled wheeze. “M-Morro...” The grass parted around you and swished with the breeze. He collapsed by your side, heaving and mumbling under his breath. “What happened?” he demanded. “Where were you?! We captured that guy, but then you just disappeared!” Morro didn’t even try to hide the fear in his voice as he ripped his sleeve and tied it around your wounds.

The man you were trying to catch was a serial killer. You thought he was some lowly idiot, but it turned out he had an entourage of killing machines. He experimented on them, and that gave them abilities no normal people should possessed. “Morro...” You winced. “Leave. That guy, he...he has these people who...”

“Just shut up.” His was holding back tears. “You aren’t dying on me, and even if that guy had backup, you bet Sensei won’t have trouble taking them out. I’m bringing you home, so don’t you dare sleep on me.” You intertwined your bloody hand with his. “Morro, please. Go.” He clenched his teeth.

“No!” His voice came out harsh, but you knew it was good-natured. “I’m not leaving you! Not again.” You turned to stare at the starry sky. What was Morro referring to? Whatever it was felt like so long ago--or was that just your hazy memory? No, you had incredible memory. 

“(Y/n), stay awake!”

You were sleepy. The stars were beginning to fade, along with Morro’s beautiful eyes glazed over with tears. Fireflies rose from the grass, fluttering past your view in little specks of light. You wondered what it felt like to be so free and insignificant. They had no responsibilities, no nothing save for living.

What did that feel like?

“Hey...” you whispered. “Remember that time you...helped me up...after I...after I scraped my knee?” Morro squeezed your hand, but it was like he hadn’t at all. Your limbs were numb in pain.

“What are you talking about?” he demanded. “Save your strength--”

You laughed and it was melancholy and broken and sad and all the things Morro wished he never heard. This wasn’t you. It wasn’t what he wanted for you. The sky was blurring in a mix of pale moonlight and scattered dots of stars. You thought back to that day, the one where you had scrapped your knee.

Blood gushed out of the tattered skin. You winced, wishing with bitter regret that you hadn’t overstepped your attack. It wouldn’t have happened if you were paying more attention, but how could you when Morro was so attractively distracting?

He glanced at you from over his shoulder and paused. “Hold on,” he told his sparring partner. You blew on the open wound. Maybe it would help ease the pain, you weren’t sure. “First Spinjitzu Master, urgh.”

Morro knelt by your side, eyes all soft and warm. “You’re such a clutz sometimes.” You huffed. “I wouldn’t be if you weren’t so freaking...” Heat rose to your cheeks, reddening them like apples. There was no way you’d openly admit he made you trip over your own two feet.

“’So freaking’ what?” he inquired, raising a brow. Your rosy cheeks darkened and Morro let out a bright laugh. “Wait here.” He stood and hurried inside the monastery. His sparring partner, Banc, sent you big thumbs up. You rolled your eyes at him and threw your scabbard at him. He easily caught it with a smirk grin.

“When are you going to tell him?”

You raised a brow. “Tell him what?”

“That you like him.” Banc said it like it was the mot obvious thing in all of Ninjago, but it wasn’t like he was wrong. Sensei Wu saw it, Garmadon saw it, everyone saw it. What a miracle it would be if it was a secret, or at least a quiet thing.

“Morro’s the only one who doesn’t realise it.” you muttered. Banc rolled his eyes. “Then tell him! I’ll go insane if you keep your mouth shut for another day.” The Monastery doors opened and Morro jogged out with a wet handkerchief and a bandage. “I don’t mean to keep you guys waiting,” he said, “but this is important.”

“To you.” Banc jested. Morro rolled his eyes playfully. He knelt back by your side and gently wiped the wound. “(Y/n) could die if the wound gets infected, so it’s important anyway.” You snorted. “A wound’s not going to kill me.”

“It very well could if one is not careful.”

You turned to look at the open doors. Sensei waltzed out, bamboo staff in one hand and straw hat in the other. His bag, heavy around his shoulders, was big and filled with as much stuff as he could fit. You wondered if it was because of tea or scrolls. “Are you going somewhere?”

He nodded. “I’m afraid so. In the mean time, I hope you all come to realise what’s hidden under the surface. Whether it be hidden feelings,” he cast you a knowing look, “or personal progression. Keep the Monastery tidy and please don’t forget to pickle the vegetables. I’d hate not to have any pickled radish without my rice.”

You all shared a good-natured chuckle. Morro wrapped your knee in a bandage and turned to glance at Sensei with curious eyes. They sparkled like the clouds in the rising sunlight, just like little nuggets of gold. “What do you mean by ‘hidden feelings’?” Sensei smiled warmly. “You will have to find that out on your own. I’ll be off now, you will see me in seven days’ time.”

The moment Sensei disappeared down the front steps and Banc had closed the doors tight, silence fell over you three. Banc kept looking at you with that stupid grin of his and you had to admit, it was getting annoying. Whenever Morro turned his back to you, he motioned for you to tell him.

An hour passed, then five and six. The sun began to set along the horizon, and that was when Banc decided it was high time you fulfilled your task.

“Morro,” Banc announced. “(Y/n) has something to tell you.”

At the foot of the mountain, you lay in a large field. Morro was on your right, and Banc on your left. The fireflies that flitted past your vision were as bright as the stars, maybe even brighter. A single one landed on your nose and Morro couldn’t help but think about how beautiful you were in that moment.

“What do you want to tell me?” he inquired. You stared at the lone firefly, cheeks a dim red in its glow. “Uh...it’s...it’s nothing.”

“Are you sure? Banc looks like he wants to yell at you.” he said with a chuckle. The firefly launched off your nose and joined its family in a swarm of bright specks of light.

“Okay, okay. Maybe I do have something to say. It’s just that I...uh...I...”

A soft smile rested upon your lips. “You didn’t...didn’t forget that day...did you?” Morro touched his forehead to yours. His tears glistened in the moonlight and touched your cheeks like a misty morning drizzle. “No,” he whispered. “Of course I didn’t forget. How...how could I?”

You released one of his hands and shakily placed it on his damp cheeks. This was it, nothing else could stop time and save you from your last moments. No magic, no element, no god would or could come to your aid. But that was okay. As long as you Morro stayed right here in these moments, you’d be happy.

Happy. What a funny word.

“I...I don’t want to die.” Your voice cracked and Morro didn’t ignore it. “I don’t want you to die either.”

“What...what will...happen when I’m dead?” Morro heaved in a sharp breath and shook his head. “You won’t die,” --he chocked back a sob-- “I won’t let you.” That was a lie. Even though he didn’t want you to die, how could he save you? Morro was the Master of Wind, not death or resurrection. There wasn’t anything to do, no matter what he said.

“When...when I’m gone...promise you’ll...move on?”

A look of horror snapped through his eyes, as if he couldn’t bear the thought of ever having to let you go. It wasn’t what he did. How could he when you were his light, his life? If you hadn’t been around, then he would have died trying to prove Destiny wrong.

“I...I love you Morro.”

“I love you more.” He pulled you close into the security of his arms and hugged you tight. “But please, please don’t go.” You smiled again with the last of your strength. It was all you could do when the world was fading, blurring into dots and colours.

You shut your eyes. Your hand went limp.

Morro stilled and tightened his hold on your dead body. Fireflies flew past him in glowing paths of specks. A single firefly landed on your nose, illuminating the dried splatter of blood on your cheeks. In that moment, he couldn’t help but notice how beautiful you were.

“I love you (Y/n). I love you more than anything in Ninjago.”

REBLOG so this can reach more people (and therefore support me, the creator!) TIP JAR <---

[yoonsshadow]

ETERNAL - v

➳ summary ; They have died so often that death has lost its meaning; hurt so regularly that pain has become inconsequential; lost so much that they hold each other to the light of the stars. They have nothing yet they have everything, as long as they have each other. And, after centuries, they now have her.

➳ pairing ; bts!ot7 x fem!reader

➳ genres ; The Old Guard au; fantasy, historical, action, romance, alternate universe

➳ themes ; angst, fluff, death

➳ warnings ; smoking, mature conversations

➳ word count ; 3k

➳ note ; Thank you for your patience!

masterlist

Fear is a fist that clutches your heart, reminding you of its presence each time it tightens its grip. It doesn’t hurt, necessarily, but you can feel the strength in its hold; the raging tendons wrapped around your tender organ that strain with each heartbeat. A singular emotion controlling your very pulse.

Cigarette smoke billows into the indigo hour of the night, and you find yourself unable to pry the fingers away.

The air on the balcony is cold, but it envelops you in a comforting embrace; it’s a soft coolness, as opposed to the harsh, biting climate of the desert that you’ve become accustomed to. Your skin prickles with goosebumps, but you don’t feel the need to scratch at yourself, to tear the skin from your flesh. It makes you feel alive, even if the definition of that word has changed for you.

Evidence of your newfound immortality, if that’s what you can call it, dangles between your fingers, ashes falling to the ground several storeys below with each gentle tap. It tastes terrible⎯⎯a bitter flavour of death in every pull⎯⎯but it serves its purpose for now. It keeps you grounded, gives you something to focus on other than the slowly growing anxiety that still holds strong in your chest.

Behind you, the balcony door slides open, startling the silent air with its soft drag.

“You’re up late,” Namjoon says. He speaks soft, low, as if hesitant to disturb you. “Or early, I guess. Didn’t take you for a smoker.”

You breathe out a puff of smoke, watching as it dissipates into the darkness. “I’m not.” He steps into your periphery, leaning on the metal railing beside you. “I just needed...something. Found them hidden away in the bookshelf.”

Namjoon scoffs. “Figures. We’re usually a non-smoking household, but sometimes the boys get sneaky. Pass me one?”

You hand him the box. Only two cigarettes left. He brings one to dangle between his lips and, without asking, you hand him a lighter. It takes him three tries, and then he’s sighing smoke into the air as well.

“Thought you were a non-smoking household.”

“We are. Stinks up the place, and it tastes disgusting. But. When in Rome.”

“You calling me Rome?”

He chuckles, but doesn’t answer. “Couldn’t sleep?”

You shake your head, despite knowing that he isn’t looking at you. “Too much on my mind.”

“Do you want to talk about it?”

“I don’t think I could if I tried.”

He blends in with the shadows, slightly, though the peaks of his cheekbones catch the dull light that glows through the mist of pollution. “I get that. Would you rather me talk?”

“Not really.”

“Do you want me to leave you alone?”

“Not really.”

So he stays. Until the embers begin to burn your fingertips; until you’re snuffing your cigarette on the metal rail. You don’t think you’ll smoke again. You suppose it doesn’t matter, though. There’s forever ahead of you to change your mind.

Sunlight is just beginning to illuminate the buildings around you when Namjoon speaks up again. He stubbed his own cigarette before it was even halfway done. 

“I’m sure you’re curious,” he says. “About us, about the situation, about everything. And we’ll tell you as much as we can, but...There are some things the boys won’t feel comfortable telling you about just yet. We’ve lived long lives. We’ve done good things and bad things; experienced things we’re proud of and things that haunt us. We may not die, but we’re still human. I hope that you don’t mind being patient with us.”

Your heart aches a little at the melancholy in his tone, as if you wouldn’t give the world for these seven men after knowing them just a day. It feels as if your soul has missed them for a lifetime.

“Namjoon.” He turns to face you, now, and a halo of soft light glows around his face. “I don’t know what you’ve all been through, and frankly, it’s none of my business. If you want to tell me something, I know that you’ll do it in your own time. I’ve got the rest of my life to get to know you all, okay? There’s no rush.”

His smile starts as a twitch, a quirked corner of his lips, but quickly grows wide. Relieved. 

“I’m glad it’s you,” he says. He offers no elaboration, no further words, but you think you know what he means. Because you’re glad it’s him, too. You’re glad it’s them.

With breakfast comes clarity. As you sit at the large dining table, bowls of rice, soup, and several plates of banchan steaming into the morning air, you find yourself feeling calmer than you have since your death. It’s as though the raging tides of emotions⎯⎯uncertainty, confusion, downright fear⎯⎯have finally quelled into a tranquil body of water. There is sure to be a ripple sooner or later, but for now, it is completely still.

Yoongi, the cook of this morning’s feast, takes the first bite, and the rest of you follow. There is so much that you want to say, so many questions that you want to speak into existence, but the bitter taste of apprehension bleeds through even the delicious taste of your meal. You feel like you might choke on it⎯⎯the taste and your words both⎯⎯but your throat closes before you can even swallow.

Ah. There is the awaited ripple.

Perhaps it is the hours of silent companionship, or simply his centuries of wisdom, but Namjoon seems to sense your internal struggle. “If there’s anything you want to ask us, Y/N, go ahead. We’ll answer to the best of our abilities.”

Your throat eases and your tastebuds return to normal. “Well…” Where do you begin? What questions do you ask potentially ancient beings? “I guess let’s start with what this,” you wave a finger around the table, at the seven other sets of eyes who watch you patiently, “is. The situation.”

Namjoon nods slowly. It seems he’ll be taking charge for this conversation, much to the visible relief of the others. “Even we aren’t completely certain of what exactly this is,” he says. “From what we’ve learned, our death granted us immortality, or something to that degree. We cannot die, nor can we get majorly injured. Any wounds heal quickly, and any illnesses metabolise out of our system before they can affect us.”

You nod. All of this you were already aware of.

“As for this,” he continues. He looks around the group, fighting back a fond smile. “We’re all connected. When someone else becomes like us, we all see visions of each other to help us find them. The same happened with you. You saw visions of us when you slept, and we saw visions of you. That’s how we could find you. The dreams gave us enough information to figure out who you were, and then it was a matter of locating you.”

“Which wasn’t easy, by the way,” Jimin adds, though there is no annoyance. “Your files were so deeply buried that we thought they might not exist. And don’t even get me started on accessing the satellite.”

“You hacked a satellite?” You can’t hide the shock in your tone, and you don’t miss the glint of mischief in Jimin’s eyes.

“That’s not important,” Namjoon says, taking control of the conversation once again. “What’s important is this: the eight of us are intrinsically connected now. We might not get the visions anymore, but we are still linked. The easiest way to describe it is that we’re soulmates, though that might not even be true. We were destined to find each other, to be immortal together. Whether it’s for some higher purpose, or just a random curse, we don’t know. It’s better, I think, if we don’t try and find out that reason.”

Now that confuses you. “Why? Isn’t it human nature to be curious?”

Hoseok scoffs. “I don’t think we fall under the definition of ‘human’ anymore.”

You’ll have to file that away for later.

Namjoon ignores Hoseok, and looks straight at you. “If we become too enveloped in trying to figure out the big ‘why’, we’ll get lost in ourselves. We’ll lose our own sense of purpose. If we were chosen, for whatever reason, then we have to trust that our instincts will guide us to do what is needed.”

“Okay.” You suppose he’s right. “Then, could you tell me how old you all are?”

“We don’t do ages,” Taehyung says. He sounds almost amused. “We know the age we were when we died, but we don’t keep track of how long we’ve lived after that. It’s a rule.”

“Then how about...generally? Who was the first? How did you all die?”

All eyes turn to Namjoon. Honestly, you can’t say you’re surprised.

“I was the first,” he says. A faraway look takes over his eyes, as if lost in the past. Seokjin puts a grounding hand on his shoulder. “I couldn’t figure out my actual age if I tried, but it was...a long time ago. I was the chief of my village. Killed for power. The story isn’t too interesting.”

There’s a brief moment of silence, and then Yoongi clears his throat. “I was the second. A slave to some tyrant who thought he was all-powerful. Killed in front of the other slaves to put them in line.” He shrugs, but doesn’t meet anyone’s eyes.

Hoseok is quick to speak next, his words are short and curt. “I was third. Court execution.” He seems reluctant, as if guarding his past behind the tightly-locked gates of his crossed arms, but you mean what you said to Namjoon earlier; you will wait for them. For however long it takes.

Next is Seokjin, and you have a feeling that his theatrics are for Hoseok’s benefit. “I was the lucky fourth, and a king, at that! Though I was only in the position for a few hours, and all public records of it were thrown into the river with my body. Which is a shame, really, because my portraits deserved to be in museums for all to marvel over.”

“Um.” Jeongguk seems nervous, and you see him hide his shaking hands beneath the table. “I was next. I died of...natural causes.”

“And we came as a set,” Taehyung smiles, arm slung over Jimin’s shoulders. “Died at the very same moment, and woke up the same way! We were best friends, right, Jiminie? On the opposite sides of a war, but I loved him with my whole heart.”

Jimin nods, a wistful smile pulling at his cheeks. “I remember thinking that I was so lucky, to die in his arms. To never have to live a single moment without him. And then we found the others, and I thought that I must’ve been in heaven to be so fortunate.”

“We’re all together,” Namjoon elaborates, though it’s unnecessary. A blind man could see the way they feel about each other. “It may be because of circumstance, though I like to think that it’s because we were all meant to be. Like it’s a gift from the universe, allowing soulmates born in different centuries to find each other.”

“And now you,” Jeongguk whispers. His eyes glimmer, hopeful, and so young despite the obvious years he has over you. You wonder why he doesn’t seem as emotionally aged as the others; what could cause him to cling to his youth the way he does. It doesn’t matter, though. If it means he keeps his heart, it will never matter.

“We don’t expect anything from you,” Seokjin says. “Not romantically or even platonically. You are still your own person, and if you don’t want to be a part of this, in any degree, we won’t force it.”

You are thankful for that. It takes away a pressure that you didn’t even know you had until now. The thought that this is a choice⎯⎯a decision that is completely yours to make⎯⎯relieves you to no end. And yet... 

“I don’t think that’s a decision I can make right now.” You mindlessly arrange the chopsticks on your now empty plate as you try to summon the right words to explain yourself. “There’s so much that I need to figure out, and so many things that I feel I have to do. I don’t even know if I’ve properly processed the situation yet, or if I’m simply in shock.”

“Is there any way we can help you?” Yoongi, as always, seems so genuine. So heartfelt. 

“You already have. So much more than you’d believe.” And it’s true. Independence is your life. You may have been in a team in your old life, a leader of a small group for whom you were responsible, but you were always brought up, always trained, to survive alone. To find comfort in an existence of solitude. Because that’s what the military is; it is removing yourself from others, from the world. You were in a team, sure, but you were all alike in your aloneness. Alone together.

Now, you have this group of men who, without knowing you, have plucked you from your misery and now offer you everything. Offer themselves, their companionship, their help. You are not the one responsible, the one with everything on the line. They have taken that from you with gentle hands, and you give it away gladly. There is not much else that you could ask of them.

Except. Well, maybe there is.

“But…” You trail off, and their eyes just scream patience. You don’t know how they do it, how they’ve grown to be so effortlessly composed and serene, because right now your heart is beating in urgency. It batters against your chest, yelling at you to just ask them, now, but your words falter in sudden uncertainty. They have already given you so much, offered even more; can you truly ask for the help that you now realise you may need?

You look into their eyes again, and know that the answer is yes.

“This mission,” you continue, sitting up straighter. If you speak with confidence, perhaps you’ll start to feel it. “As far as I know, it was never completed. When our team went in, it was under the belief that we’d be able to rescue all of the children safely and relatively unseen. Someone on the inside tipped them off, but they had to have had a reason. They wouldn’t have betrayed us like that unless something was wrong.”

“You speak like you know exactly who it was,” Hoseok says. It isn’t a question, and you see it in his expression that he isn’t necessarily looking for an answer.

You won’t give him one. Not yet. Not until you’ve figured out for yourself why this person would’ve left you for dead. “That isn’t important right now,” you say in lieu of a confirmation. “What matters is that those children are still out there somewhere, and there’s a leak in the operation.” Releasing a deep sigh, you slump down a bit. “I’m going back to the desert, back to the base, and I’m going to save those children. If you would like to help me...that would be really nice.”

“Of course we’ll help,” Jeongguk says, without hesitation. There’s a resoluteness in the set of his jaw that you haven’t seen in him before. “Anything you need. We mean it.”

“We should talk about this plan of yours first, though,” Namjoon says. “As far as the military is concerned, you’re dead. You died with your team. If you go back to your base of operations, that’s just going to open up a whole lot of complications for both sides. They might think that you were the traitor, being the only survivor. We’ll need to operate with a certain level of stealth.”

You were worried about that. Your dog-tags are with the rest of your team’s, your body supposedly burned along with theirs. You won’t be able to reprise the role you previously played in this, and you won’t have the military support that you once had. If you do this, it will be in the shadows, hiding behind corners and turning away from cameras. You are a ghost now. You’ll have to act like one.

“Okay,” you say. “I understand; we need to stay hidden. But there is one person that I need to see face-to-face. I can promise that they won’t do anything to endanger our identities.”

“It’s a bad idea,” Jimin says. “Trust is one thing when you’re alive, but if they’ve been mourning your death, you can’t know for sure how they’ll react.”

“That’s a risk I’m willing to take,” you affirm. “I trust this person, and I’m going to need you all to trust me.”

Taehyung bites his lip in contemplation. “It isn’t that we don’t trust you,” he says, “but we can’t fully trust the situation. We don’t know this person, whoever they are, or how they’ll use this information against you. Against us.”

“I get it, I do.” You can’t help but sigh. “But this is something that I need to do, and something that I will do regardless of whether I have your permission. I won’t let my decision affect any of you, but if you decide against helping me because of this, I’ll understand.”

Yoongi leans forward. “We’re going to help you.” His tone is final. “And you’re right, this is your decision to make. We just want to make sure that you completely understand what you’re potentially getting yourself into.”

“You are all a lot older than me,” you say, “and obviously much wiser. But I’m an adult too, and I’m mature enough to know that my actions may have consequences. I’m no stranger to making tough decisions, or to taking responsibility. I may not be a Captain by rank anymore, but that doesn’t change who I am.”

“Okay,” Namjoon says. He doesn’t argue, nor does he apologise, but he doesn’t need to. There is a mutual understanding in the way you look at each other, and nothing more needs to be said. “So, what’s the plan?”

You take in a deep breath, and prepare your mind to return to the place you’ve grown to loathe.

< prev - next >

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[kuroopaisen]

cause & effect || 8

➵ your work friend, kuroo, has a tiny favour to ask. unfortunately, that favour includes convincing his family that you’re very much in love with him and have been for a while now. let’s just say it’s easier than you’d assumed.

warnings: f!reader, discussion of divorce

wc: 2.2k

m.list | ch. 7 ↞ ch. 8 ↠ ch. 9

“Tetsurou!” His mother calls as he’s a few steps away from the safety of the car.

“Hm?” He only half turns around, not willing to commit to the concept of walking back towards his mother’s house.

“Don’t forget to call.”

“Don’t worry,” you call out, “I’ll remind him.”

She smiles at you, raising a hand. “Thank you, dear.”

You’re rushed into the car before you know it, buckled in next to an exceedingly stressed Kuroo.

The two of you are already leaving later than he would’ve liked, and you can tell he’s desperate to get back to Tokyo.

So are you, honestly. It feels like you didn’t get enough sleep last night, even though you certifiably did.

His mother’s words keep playing over in your head. ‘No chemistry.’ ‘She’s no Ritsuko.’ What did that even mean? 

Sure, you might not be his real girlfriend, but you’re kind of pissed that you’re expected to live up to a set of standards you don’t even know about. Maybe you’re a bit too ticked off by the chemistry comment, but ‘no chemistry’ meant you weren’t playing your role well.

And if you were going to do anything during this whole stupid pantomime, it would be playing your part exceptionally.

“You know,” Kuroo begins, clearing his throat and stirring you from your thoughts, “I don’t think I said thank you properly last night.”

You smile, shaking your head. “It’s fine.”

“No, I…” There’s a creak in Kuroo’s voice, an uncertainty. Once, you might have found it unusual. After last night, not anymore. “I really appreciate you listening to me.”

You turn your head towards him, your smile softening.

Kuroo takes a deep breath, his fingers tensing around the steering wheel. He’s not looking at you (rightfully so – his attention should be focused on the road), but his brow is furrowed and his bottom lip juts out ever so slightly.

“I know it sounds dumb,” he says quietly, voice barely louder than the humming of the car, “since they split ages ago, but… I’ve had a hard time believing that… that if I fell in love with someone, it’d last.”

It hurts. Deep and true and harsh.

You know that pain. You’ve felt it.

“That doesn’t sound dumb at all,” you murmur, voice soft as cotton.

“Thanks,” Kuroo chuckles.

Silence falls once more. You let it. If Kuroo needs time, you’re willing to give out. Trying to force things out of someone never did them any good. You wait patiently, watching the road.

“I just…” He sighs after a while, sitting up a little straight. “I don’t know how to let someone in. Not in the way they want, anyway. I just…”

He chews on his lip, brow furrowed as he searches for his next words.  

“Because your parents split up?” You offer.

“Mhm,” he nods slowly. “I don’t begrudge them for it or anything… and I know it’s better than forcing themselves to stay in the relationship.”

Ah, the bargaining. You know it well.  

You tell yourself that what happened is better than nothing changing at all. But in the process, you forget you’re allowed to grieve. Allowed to be hurt. You push it away, cover it with a tatty veil, tell yourself that it’s wrong to feel anything mildly negative about it.

But that’s how it builds. That’s how it spreads like moss over a stone wall, slow and deliberate and hard to notice at first. But then it’s in all of you – in how you see yourself, in how you see others, in how you love.

“But it’s affected you more than you realised, right?” You ask gently.

Kuroo nods again. He glances at you out the corner of his eye, vaguely suspicious.

“Yeah,” he swallows. “I’ve only begun unpacking it recently.”

“It can take a long time to work through something like that,” you murmur, fiddling with your fingers as you gaze down at your lap.

You’re not sure if you’ve even worked through it all. There are still days when the thought of ‘family’ makes you want to throw up, where the bitterness swallows you whole. Bitterness for them, bitterness towards a society that places filial piety as a key virtue. How are you supposed to fulfil your ‘duty’ as a daughter when you still haven’t forgiven them for leaving you among the wreckage?

Maybe it’s time.

You take a deep breath, lifting your head to gaze out the window. “My parents are divorced, too.”

It’s a half-whispered confession. One you’re not sure if you should make.

You don’t know why it’s so hard to say that. It’s a simple fact – one that’s been written in stone since you were fourteen. And it’s not like Kuroo would judge you for it.

But it’s still difficult. It still feels like a stain that won’t come out.

“Wait, really?” Kuroo’s eyes go wide, glancing between you and the road. “I’m so sorry—”

“What’re you apologising for?” You giggle.

Kuroo opens and closes his mouth like a goldfish. “Well I—I’ve been sitting here complaining about it, and—”

You wave a hand at him.

“It’s fine,” you smile. “I’m not close with either parent, so…”

The mood shifts. Have you made a mistake?

“I’m sorry,” Kuroo says. There’s a painful sincerity in his voice – evidence that he doesn’t know what that’s like.

You’re happy for him. Through it all, at least, he had his dad’s side of the family. It’s something to be grateful for; and while the abandoned child in you feels bitterly jealous at the thought of someone else getting support, you know better than to admonish a parent doing their best to keep their son above water.

“It’s fine,” you say, pressing your lips together and shaking your head. “They’re both overseas for the holidays, actually.”

That’s the real reason you’re able to actually do this whole thing. There’re no parents to visit, no family to make merry with. There are friends you’d like to see, but most of their time was taken up by their own family festivities.

“Wait, really?”

“Mhm,” you nod. “Dad’s gone to Europe with his new partner, and mum’s visiting her new husband’s family in Australia.”

You know that they didn’t need to ask you if you wanted to spend the holidays together. And you don’t expect it. Sometimes weeks go by with no contact, and it’s your fault as much as theirs.

But that doesn’t mean it doesn’t hurt. Being along during the holidays is always a reminder that things aren’t as they should be – you don’t have that nice little nuclear family you’re told to want, with parents who love (or at least, tolerate) each other so they can love you.

“I see…” Kuroo murmurs.

“So, you needing someone to stick their neck out for you ended up being pretty convenient,” you grin, trying to lighten the frankly dour atmosphere in the car.

“Where will you be during New Years?” He asks softly. There’s a certain melancholy to his face.

“Alone, at this rate.” You have friends to see, of course, but you know they can’t dedicate all their free time to you – and you’d never ask for that.

But you can’t reason your way out of loneliness, no matter how hard you try. Maybe you weren’t trying hard enough. All you can do is remind yourself that it wouldn’t be forever; the holidays would pass, things would return back to normal, and you won’t be lonely again for another year.

“You can stay with us, if you’d like.”

Kuroo’s voice is so soft. So kind.

It’s enough to make your chest feel all light and funny. Why, you don’t know.

“Thanks,” you murmur.

You’re not sure if you’ll take him up on the offer; you wouldn’t want to impose, and it wasn’t part of your agreement. Not that you’re really sure what’s covered by your agreement. You’re just coasting along, hoping for the best. Hoping you’re helpful.

Silence. A silence that weighs on your shoulders.

Did Kuroo feel… awkward, now he knew you came from a similar situation? Did he feel that he had no right to talk about it the way he was?

That wasn’t what you’d been trying to do at all. You didn’t want to rob him of his voice.

You take a deep breath, clutching your jacket with your hands. “I’m just saying that… I know where you’re coming from,” you swallow. “Kind of.”

Kuroo glances at you out the corner of his eye.

“It’s okay to take your time to work through these sorts of things,” you smile. “God knows I still am.”

He chuckles lightly. A good sign.

“It’s not easy,” you continue, “and I spent a lot of my teen years believing it didn’t affect me, that it hadn’t had that big of an impact, but…” One deep breath. “I used to besmirch the idea of family.”

It feels strange, admitting it out loud. You’d never done that before; not to someone outside of a therapeutic context. Not even your closest friends knew this was how you really felt.

“I didn’t believe in it,” you swallow, “And now I know that’s because of how my parents treated each other.”

Fights. Pointless bickering. Nothing ever got physical, but bitterness has a way of twisting people up on the inside, leaving them all tattered and miserable. A place where there’s no love at all, only two people running through the tired motions of affection, is no place to raise a child – let alone teach them how to love.

And something else.

“And… and because of how they treated me through the divorce,” you sigh.

It sounds worse when you phrase it like that.

“If you don’t mind me asking…” Kuroo speaks slowly, each word careful and cautious, “what happened?”

You chew on your lip. “Well, there’s the two of them trying to pit me against the other.”

Kuroo groans.

“And I… I don’t know, I felt very neglected,” you swallow, doing your best to ignore the pressure in your chest, the lump in your throat, the way your gut twists. “They were both so focused on sorting themselves out that I got left behind in a lot of ways.”

“How old were you?”

“Oh, I was like… thirteen? Fourteen?” You can’t remember exactly. It’s been so long.

“Shit.”

You laugh. “Yeah, it really wasn’t a good time for it. But… I think that contributed to why I feel a bit distant from my family.”

You sigh, closing your eyes for a moment.

This wasn’t how you’d wanted this conversation to go. This was supposed to be about Kuroo, helping him feel more at peace with what’d happened to him. It wasn’t supposed to be your sob fest.

You open your eyes, looking straight at him. “Look, Tetsurou, it’s okay to take your time. And it’s good that you’re able to identify the causes of your troubles. That’s a great start.” you say as your heart races. Would he find this preachy? Nagging?

He just chuckles, shaking his head. “I just wish I could deal with them.”

“I think you’re doing better than you think you are,” you murmur, resisting the urge to reach out and place a hand on his shoulder. “And… if you ever need someone to talk to, I’m here.”

Your heart feels like it’s running a damn marathon as he slows to a stop at the red traffic light. Have you overstepped? Are you being annoying? Worse yet, were you being invasive?

Kuroo turns to look at you properly for the first time on the drive.

He’s graced with the softest of smiles, his features much gentler than you’ve ever seen them. You’d almost believe there’s genuine affection in his eyes.

“Thanks,” he murmurs, reaching over to ruffle your hair.

You pout at him reflexively. You haven’t had your hair ruffled in years.

✧ ✧ ✧

The rest of the drive is quiet. Pleasantly so. Enough’s been said, and you feel no need to fill the silence.

Kuroo doesn’t either.

It’s nice to exist comfortably like this, the car’s heater working overtime as you trundle your way back to Tokyo. You drift in and out of a light sleep, bundled up in your jacket and your coat.

By the time Kuroo parks on your street, you’re ready to crawl into bed and hibernate for the rest of the month.

“Well,” Kuroo sighs. “Thanks again.”

You yawn, stretching your arms as far as the car will let you. “No problem.”

Kuroo wastes no time in getting out of the car and opening your door for you. You grimace as the cold air hits you; maybe you will crawl straight into bed. What better way to spend your day off?

You grab your things and slowly walk yourself to the front of your apartment building. Kuroo accompanies you the whole way.

“I’ll see you soon,” he nods to you as you turn around.

“I look forward to it,” you smile. God forbid, you’re actually excited.

Kuroos eyes light up for a moment. Are his cheeks red from the cold, or something else?

A bubble in your gut and you’re desperate to get inside, away from this confounding, stupidly charming man. You give what you intend to be your final nod, turning to open the door, but—

“Oh,” Kuroo says. “One more thing.”

You turn and tilt your head at him.

Somehow, he makes the stark winter light suit him. He grins. It’s brilliant enough to make you blush.

“Thanks for opening up to me,” he smiles, “I really appreciate it.”

[obeymeluv]

Signs they Love You

Back for my 1 post a week to prove school hasn’t totally killed me! When I get a semester break, I’ll post more often. In the mean time, feel free to leave me chats or PMs for stuff you want to see! :) Something nice and sappy for an okay Saturday

These turned out really long so I only did Lucifer, Mammon, Levi, and Satan. I have to get back to studying :/. Maybe I’ll have part 2 next week?

Lucifer

You wouldn’t be able to notice it because his pride wouldn’t allow you to. One of the brothers (or, to Lucifer’s extreme mortification, Lord Diavolo) would have to tell you

He’s not sure if it’s just the appreciation of you not being as totally chaotic as his brothers or genuine human naivete that has somehow worn off on him, but he loves you

Will be outed by sappy, soft stares that last 2 seconds too long.

Asmo and Satan are the first to notice and he LOATHES that

If he’s tasked with waking you up that morning, his knock will be firm but his voice will be gentle. Almost persuasive or commiserating

If you’re feeling overwhelmed by school workload, he may have a private conference with the teacher and grant you a minor extension. Will you know it was him? No. Is he happy to see you brighten up and refill with hope just a bit? Definitely. Is it worth the teasing from Lord Diavolo? ...Sure.

If he responds to texts in the wee hours of the morning when he’s still pouring over paperwork, he likes you.

Anyone who knows him can see how his eyes soften when someone else talks about you. There’s a fond slowness to his actions, how he glides his hand imperceptibly over his chest as if to feel where that emotion is coming from. Boy is whipped.

Should Lord Diavolo invite him out for a meeting, he will bring you back something small. Something he thought you’d like. Beel is upset. Levi yells “SIMP!” from the second floor and prepares for Armageddon.

Actually reminds you about assignments if you’re not already up on it yourself. Your success is his joy.

Is very keen on if/when you burn the candle too long and has a sixth sense for bad sleeping habits. Will put you on a stricter schedule for your own health

It may take almost all of the brothers to do it (or just help from Diavolo) but if he gets drunk on Demonus you’re getting a whole BOOK about why he likes you. He almost charms your memory away but everyone practically dog-piles on him not to because he needs to deal with his feelings.

You’re the only one he won’t chase out of his study when he’s doing paperwork. He’ll even set up a little fire if you like the fireplace.

How he confesses: tries to take you on a fancy date to Ristorante Six. Does not know that Lord Diavolo and Barbatos know about this (damn time-travelling butler!) and basically crash the date just to encourage him. Just long enough to encourage him.

Kind of an, “So you chose this idea, Lucifer? Admirable! I’m sure your date will be amazing! Enjoy your evening!” as Diavolo walks back to his table.

Does Lucifer deny it? Look and see how red his face is. If you’re really not sure, ask Diavolo. He will gladly yell, “I cannot lie!” across the restaurant.

Mammon

For all his talk, when he really, really decides he likes you, he doesn’t know what to say.

He can console himself with how obvious it is and how you made the best choice, but he has to show it! What to do?

Mammon’s kind of confused about it because he doesn’t really change how he behaves. You didn’t catch on already?! C’mon, human!

What, does he have to spell it out for you? Do an interview with Majolish?

His first tactic is to just be around you. Be subtle, and maybe cuddle a bit more than usual. Things to show he’s kittenish and at your mercy. Comfortable with you.

You don’t seem to be getting the hint so he throws the net a little wider by trying to find things you like or that you’ve been talking about. They mysteriously show up at your door.

It sends the others on a gossip train about who your admire could be and when they list off everyone BUT him, he wants to slam his head on the table.

Feeling tired? Coffee! Backpack heavy? Silly human, the BEST man can help you with that, OBVIOUSLY! Mammon jumps at the chance to do any little thing for you because he cares. His actions always speak louder than words.

Feeling kind of defeated and embarrassed, Mammon will go talk to the flock of crows that meander around the House of Lamentation’s yard when he really needs them.

For the next few days you’re accosted in the nicest way, birds chirping at you and dropping off various shiny things

You collect them, finally showing them to Mammon and he’s embarrassed that his representative animal has taken to courting you on his behalf.

He calls them to him, embarrassed and ready to rant or fall into the ground never to be seen again, when they start talking. Repeating all the things he’s practiced saying.

“Hey baby,”, “Hey human,” “Love you!”, “Silly! Silly!”, “Dummy, no, dummy!”, “My human.”

It’s broken and confusing, six or seven bird children cawing in your face and bobbing, but you get it.  

Levi

Levi’s not the best at expressing himself but it counts, right? As much as he hates to admit he’s some kind of shy tsundere, you know what that is, right? He doesn’t have to say it?

Yes. Yes he does. His brothers are getting too chummy with you and you don’t understand his signals. Time for Plan B.

If you get invited to stand in line for a midnight release, he hopes you take it. Then it’s just you two hanging out in line? What’s this? He brought snacks? Totally not for the two of you BUT you an have some if you’re hungry. It’s whatever

When he’s not doing boss raids and playing with online friends, he’ll ask if you want to play something with him. A Player 1 needs a Player 2, you know?

I headcanon that Levi knows how to play some unusual instruments like the kalimba or a real ocarina. I could see him making you a song on one of those. Or just playing it because you inspire him. He’s very good with a harp and will play it when he’s in the mood.

Boy also likes to draw and paint. Especially loves watercolors. Would it be weird if he gave you a painting of you as a mermaid? Just you and the ocean. Beautiful.

Was there a really cute plush or knickknack you liked? Levi has his ways, regardless of how rare or limited edition it is. It will be yours. 

He has a hard time understanding a passing comment of interest versus a genuine want because he genuinely wants everything he’s interested in, so if you hear a whisper about him almost securing something, stop and look it up. Make sure it’s not super expensive!!

Probably outed by Belphegor, who feels like Levi’s broadcasting all of his stress, frustration, and hope through his dreams. (”His dreams are weird. Just different ways of asking them out, and if he messes up it restarts like a simulation. My brain hurts.” he says to Beel)

 You’re allowed to come into his super-restricted bedroom haven when everything’s too much. It’s very exclusive since the Mammon incident. Be happy.

Might go swimming in his big tank and pick a seashell or rock to make a necklace out of. He hopes you like it.

If he’s not outed by Belphie, some of his online friends made a game demo they wanted him to try. They specified it was two player so he asked you to join in. While he’s in the middle of bragging about how he knows people, knows developers, he totally misses the dating-sim like dialogue and the big reveal.

Doesn’t really kick in until he realize the characters look like you two. You’re busy saying ‘Yes’ to “Do you like me?” as Levi absolutely threatens to rip them apart six ways to Sunday. Almost in full demon mode, too.

Everything falls out of his brain and quiets in his throat when he realizes the characters are kissing and ‘THEY SAID YES!’ flashes on the screen.

“Y-You like me?”

“Yep.”

It was that easy all along. Levi thinks he’s going to faint.  

Satan

Becomes aware of it pretty quick but ignores it for a looong time

Is it rude or foolish of him to assume you would also like him back?

Run away into books. A solid plan. If you don’t think about it, it’s not an issue

Oh, but it is an issue when you fall asleep after a mutual day of reading, forced in by bad weather. He finds his heart fluttering in a painful squeeze as he quietly whispers all the things he dare not say when you’re awake

It’s nervous poetry, and it’s beautiful

Satan tries to get himself back on track, to focus on reading, and he gets frustrated when he’s stuck on the same page almost an hour later

When you’re on the brain he just can’t do anything else

How does one show their affection? He’s swimming in books for a new reason now, as voracious as ever

He brews you a pot of Melancholy Coffee and is a bit disappointed you don’t know the meaning behind the bitterness. Wants to break the pot when Lucifer jokes about how it tastes exceptionally bitter to him as well.

Okay, so coffee didn’t work. What else do people do when they show their affections?

Asmo suggests a ‘not a date’ date and Satan sighs inside. Sounds like a lot of work and effort. It’s not that you’re not worth it, but he has a feeling that everyone will know and look at him the whole time.

Tries anyways. You guys go to a beautiful nature conservatory and take a tour of the plants and some indigenous animals

You’re starting to realize it now, he can tell. Satan tries to answer your question without saying it while you’re at school. You walk together, he offers to carry some of your books, and always requests that he be your project partner

Nearly there. If there was a single defining moment for him, he’d want it to be classic. He shows up at your door with a rose and asks you to go on a moonlit walk.

Mammon’s poking fun about how cheesy and cliche it is, Asmo’s gearing up to shut Mammon’s stupid mouth, and Satan just whisks you out the door with an aggravated sigh.

No matter what side of the house you’re on, Asmo throws up the biggest, gaudiest handmade sign that’s like ‘CUTEST COUPLE! 10/10!’

[ill-heart]

Spell Your Name In Songs

Oh my gosh! It’s my first time being tag for something like this... *happy gremlin noises*. Thanks @myscprin, I will do my best to honour you!

Hm... I don’t know who to tag in return so let’s say... @cupofbrownsugar, @deadlilmoon, @groovylabrat, @littleaxebad and... @kolchekyourweapons (I’m sorry if any of you had already done it, I’m kinda nervous). Like others said, no pressure if you don’t want to do this “challenge” (challenge, is it the right word?).

I tried to put differents styles and artists, but I couldn’t honour every piece of music that I enjoy... So, I listen many nordic groups’ music and soundtracks of differents games or movies.The list is... Endless, I swear.

R : Rock Bottom, by Grandson

Hm… I haven’t much to say about this song. I enjoyed the beat and the lyrics which, aren’t so great, but quite get this feeling of “what the fuck is happening right now and how did we get here”. A little bit bitter but without pure hatred for the ones who let shit happened, it’s more like an assessment. And from time to time, we can’t do better ‘cause we are just too shock to think or say otherwise.

O : Ouch, by Bring Me The Horizon

Short song but powerful. I had bad experiences with my ex, since all of them end up leaving me ‘cause they didn’t really love me at first. So I was the one getting hurt every time and I kept a bitter souvenir about my past relationships, even if I now live with the most cutest and perfect girl ever; it haven’t started well for my ass. So, though I didn’t listen this song a lot, I think it capture the atmosphere of betrayal; for me at least.

M : Must have been the wind, by Alec Benjamin

Because I really enjoy this singer’s music, this kind of pop-style with a lot of melancholy which talks to me. I chose this son because it made me cry at the end (so many times). It’s about a person who hears their neighbor being beaten, or at least abuse by someone, so they try to figure out what is going on and what they can do for their neighbor. The conclusion is really brilliant and emotional for me, ‘cause it’s not about forcing their neighbor to confess but more like letting their door open for them to come and talk when, and only when, she feels ready to open. Great song.

A : Autre part, by BigFlo and Oli

Okay, here is my French song. Most of you won’t be able to appreciate it, ‘cause well… Most of you don’t know French but I had to put one here. “Autre part” means “Somewhere else” and it’s a song about suicide. It is a two parts song with :

. One artist plays the desperate one, the person who don’t wants to live anymore and who just wants to close their eyes for good. This first part is well-written with a lot of powerful metaphors and it has spoken to me when I first listened to it.

. The other being there to comfort them and try to change their mind even, if they can’t quite understand how they feel: “I won’t say I get your feelings, but I can try to understand for you tonight”. They also admit that losing their brother might break them for good, and… Well, it’s a thought most of us can feel when someone we love, someone we cherish is craving for death.

So… Yeah… Another powerful song which made my cry ‘cause sometimes I felt like the first person, but also made me hope ‘cause I know I have people around me who support and love me.

N : Nightmare Never Ends, by Jt Music and Andrea Storm Kaden

I listen a lot of fan music these last years, so I must add one of them in my list. It’s one of my favorite, with so much vibes of the games and so many shilling sentences, like: “Thought you finally got to know me, but you’ve only met the mask”. JT is a incredible composer, so if I can help him to gain more popularity, I’m on board!

E : Exist For Love, by Aurora

I’m a sucker for love songs, I mean… I am a romantic asshole, so eyeup… At first, I didn’t like this song even though I’m a huge fan of Aurora’s music. Then I listened to it closely, again and again, and it’s just hit my nerve. The “And then I learned the truth, how everything good in life seems to lead back to you” get me every damn time.

Soooo... I everyone, my name is Romane; but I nickname myself as Max (’cause I really like the sound of it).

[ranboo5]

Dropping the Ranboo mixtape

Anyway at time of starting to write this post I had two likes and two affirmative replies, which is Good Enough For Me, so here I am :D I was gonna link the YT but on second thought my YT channel is a mess so this is gonna be one of the annoying ones that doesn’t link to one you can actually listen to but 

This is also a running list and currently organized roughly by increasingly hotter takes and it’s under a cut bc it’s 13 songs and I justified all of them 

Everybody Likes You (Lemon Demon) - LISTEN THE ANIMATION MEMES WEREN’T LYING THAT EVERYBODY LIKES YOU CAN RANBOOCORE. The increasingly distorted, incredibly bright repetition of EVERYBODY LIKES YOU EVERYBODY LIKES YOU EVERYBODY LIKES YOU until you can hear it morphing in and out of EVERYBODY LIED TO YOU? Tell Me That’s Not Him In The Spiral Depths 

Tall (Naps the Block on YT) - This is a) literally a theme for the End, b) sounds stumbling and anxious/high-strung, and c) echoes the Pigstep melody in the middle while still very much doing its own thing this is self explanatory 

Dance of Thorns/Old Secret mashup (Tensei and James Roach respectively, feat. woodfur00 on YT) (yes this is Homestuck music) - It’s just the vibes. The energy. The way the elegance of the violin lines of Dance of Thorns sounds almost nervous especially against the almost noir mystery vibes of Old Secret, and the guitar lines of Dance of Thorns add like. Initiative/urgency especially when they underlay the other music it’s so good I don’t think either song alone is Ranboo vibes but this remix definitely is. Just the mix of perseverance and desperation and melancholy and mystery and Class 

Touch-Tone Telephone (Lemon Demon) - This one is old news but tbh it just works. Man decides he’s the correct one in this situation and he’s losing his entire mind that no one is listening to him because he just is not 

2012 (Will Wood) - This one isn’t really clever it’s just about memory loss, derealization, identity, and often self-hatred (“A miserable fuck, but a loud Tao mystical” is a lot). “Did you lose yourself?/It’s always in the last place that you check” sounds so mocking in ways internal monologues like Droice have been and “I might find myself/By retracing my steps” is literally just Ranboo dealing with the Enderwalk; “And not until lobotomy abolished my monotony/Did I applaud autonomy, and modify a lot of me!” works so much for him Dealing With Himself generally, and also “I heard the world would turn to hell/Compared to that, I’m doing well!” is a Him sentiment 

Hand Me My Shovel, I’m Going In! (Will Wood) - Jokes about the three hour mining/grinding streams aside. Not only is the chorus so heavily a spiral/self-evaluation mood, but literally consider his thought processes abt the things he’s done/allegedly done and then consider “My dreams were shattered like a stained-glass window/Jesus in pieces! I believe I through a brick right through Him/But my memory could not be saved!/It just seems unlikely that it’s me who was to blame/So I bookmark my DSM, ‘cause I need to remember my place.” And now with the advent of the “experiments” the second verse’s “Take the road on higher ground, and tell me ‘don’t look down! You’ll fall and break your back’/But that just reminds me how there’s more to be found beneath the black!” is more relevant than ever 

Friends With You (The Scary Jokes) - Oh my god. Oh my fucking god man. This could be on here for “I put myself to bed just halfway through the party/I love all my friends, but I hate when their eyes are on me” alone but the general almost empty saccharine vibe of the song is immensely his vibe; the humorlessly-smiling vocal fry on “don’t know” in “Why do you pretend/You don’t know who’s to blame?” is probably responsible for 80% of this read. Not to mention the first lyrics are literally “How long do I have to wait/’Til my lonely days are over?” which is really the. The waiting it out man the So When Do I Get To Be Okay of it all. Shoutouts also to “And the crumbling infrastructure no one else can see,” the self hatred of “I miss being friends with you/But what can I do/What can I do/But leave you alone?” and to “And I can tell you really love me/Can you tell I’m really sorry?” Just. The mix of hope+affection and dejected cynicism and self-hatred in the lyrics

Saline Solution (none other than Mr Wilbur Soot) - Remember what I said about waiting it out until you get to be okay? Anyway that’s crystallized in “If I could just break one more night/Maybe I could wake up and feel alright” and also this is literally a song about catastrophizing and self-evaluation just,, in general and I will not be highlighting all the lyrics about this but I will highlight the fact that he literally calls himself pragmatic and also the lyric “blurring the facts and the fiction.” Also, the sheer desperate anger-concealing-breakdown vibes of “I think I’ve made my choice” to “I think I’ve found my voice” deserves a mention, as does the culminating end of “saline solution to all your problems” with the tears+now splash water motifs of it all with Ranboo I am going to die 

Funny (The Scary Jokes) - This is actually a softer take but not only does it literally start with the singer pleading with the addressee to look away, it  continues with “I went up in the middle of the night and I climbed right onto the stage/And I raged/And I cried/Oh, what a funny joke am I” disregarding everything as performance, reemphasizes the opening demand with the qualifier “it’s not that I hate you, it’s just that I’m funny these days,” and then kills you with the last couple lines which. Yeah he does care and it does,,, just,,,,, a

Chemical Overreaction (Will Wood) - This is where the mood VIOLENTLY whiplashes because this is where we get unhinged. Anyway “I won’t stop to drop to draw a line in the sand/’Cause I’ll be picked apart to pieces by coyotes!” is LITERALLY the whole “I don’t do well with ‘peer pressure’” thing. “Where the sentimental value of the city around ya/Is deleted obsolete, but still completely will stun ya” is the single most L’Manberg lyric I’ve ever heard, especially from the perspective of a character whom I will repeatedly insist is narratively in the role of someone who’s shown up and seen the status quo as an outsider after it’s been established (hence the eternal New Kid vibes). Chorus very much has vibes of Ranboo Is Seized By The Urge To Do Something, and like. The entire dramatic end part. The last two lines especially (be very careful if you look up the vieo for this by the way it is NOT pretty; cws in the video for flashing, blood, suicide imagery) 

A Mannequin Adrift (The Scary Jokes) - The Bitterness. This song is just fully The Bitterness at the environment he’s stuck in; the saccharine comes back as does the “peer pressure” thematic and just the Having An Awful Time; the sarcastic saccharine comes back too, which is always good I love passive aggression. Honestly the first verse is just everything like just listen to it it immediately makes sense

Poison Ivy Grows (The Scary Jokes) - This is overall a song about having bad brain and not knowing what the hell to do about it; it’s so faintly bitter and distant and melancholy and also so zoned out. Also, it’s not the only lyric that matters here but it is enough to be a full argument on its own: “I used to spend so much time/Wandering around outside/Now I’ve got too much on my mind/Now I’ve got too much on my mind” 

Spring Haze (Tori Amos) - Listen. Do I know what Spring Haze is about? No. Is that gonna stop me from saying it’s about Ranboo? Also no. I just think “You say we’ll never make it there/So all we do is circle it” is so much, the fact that the bridge at the end is just “Why does it always end up like this?” repeated, and that it just feels so much like overall the song feels like a desperate attempt to figure Something out, and the chorus is just inexplicably him? It might be partially influenced by the fact that “Uh-oh, let go, off on my way” and, to a lesser extent, “Uh-oh, way to go” is not only in accordance with character vibes but also vaguely evocative of Ranboo’s speech pattern

[cheri-translates]

Headcanon - when he sees someone else confessing to you

This work, 当他看见你被别人表白, was originally written by 君兮耶君兮 on Weibo, and she has given me permission to translate it 🌸

[ VICTOR ]

The two of you made plans to go for dinner together.

By the time you make your way to LFG after work, Victor has just wrapped up a meeting. After giving him a call, you hover around the entrance, waiting for him to drive the car over. 

“Is that really you?”

You hear a pleasantly surprised male voice from behind. Turning towards the sound of the voice, you’re greeted by an employee from LFG. 

After digging through your brain for a while, you finally recall that the last time you came to LFG to submit a report, you met a new employee who was under Goldman’s wing. 

Back then, he was clearly not used to the working style in LFG, and was making mistakes left and right. Seeing that he was on the brink of tears after receiving a scolding from Goldman, you stepped in to mediate the situation. 

You didn’t expect him to remember you.

“Ever since you helped me, I’ve been looking for you.” He twists and rubs his hands together, looking slightly nervous. He lifts his head. “I’m now the leader of R&D Team A. I... I wonder if you could... be my girlfriend?”

“I’m sorr-”

Even before you finish speaking, you’re interrupted by the car horn of a black Maybach. Thinking about a certain someone’s occasionally difficult personality, you immediately step backwards, putting some distance between the two of you.

“CEO...” The little employee stands straight and stock-still.

Victor nods coldly. Judging from his expression, you can tell that this childish man is jealous again. You place your hands together to form an apologetic pose towards the employee, then pull the car door open, entering it.

The employee’s face grows deathly pale, and he scurries off, as though he has suffered a great blow.

“I’m gone for just a while, and you’re already flirting around?” Victor reaches across your body to strap on your seat belt.

You burst out laughing, planting a chaste kiss on the side of his face. “Victor, I’m very obedient. I rejected him even before you pressed the horn~”

He settles back into his seat and puts on his own seat belt. Starting the engine, his unhappy tone is almost imperceptible. 

“Mm, pretty obedient.”

[ GAVIN ]

In the police station, there are quite a number of energetic men who are full of vigour. Whenever you have nothing to do, you’d take a stroll around the training grounds to look at... Flyer.

Let’s be real - if you dared to look at other men, Loveland City’s No. 1 King of Jealousy, Officer Gavin, will definitely hoist you home on his shoulder, just like he did the last time at your office. 

After retrieving the frisbee from its mouth, you pat Flyer’s head. From the corner of your eye, you notice that Gavin has already finished exchanging pointers with the other officers, and is currently staring in your direction.

You shoot him a smile from afar while giving Flyer a belly rub.

An officer with some grime on his body walks over, handing you a bottle of water. “Whose relative are you?” 

You hesitate for a while before accepting the bottle, thanking him politely.

“I see you here often. I presume you like small animals?” He rubs Flyer’s head. Uncomfortable to be touched by a stranger, Flyer unhappily shies away from the contact.

You immediately reassure Flyer.

Watching how gently you’re treating Flyer, the officer is unable to restrain himself from asking, “Would you consider me? I love small animals too. Want to be my girlfriend?”

Faced with such an unexpected turn of events, you instantly refuse. “Sorry, I already have a boyfriend.” 

“Who’s your boyfriend?” He hasn’t seen you being chummy with any of the guys.

“Her boyfriend flipped you onto the ground earlier.”

Gavin appears from behind the both of you. His forehead is dotted with beads of sweat, and some droplets travel along his defined lower jawline towards his neck region.

“...Captain Gavin.” The officer quivers, straightening up and greeting him with a salute.

Gavin doesn’t even spare him a glance. He stands in front of you, tilting his head downwards slightly. “Help me wipe the sweat off?”

“Mm,” you comply obediently, retrieving a towel from your bag and dabbing it on him gently. You can feel the lingering heat exuding from his post-exercise body, and you hand him the bottle. “Want some water?”

Stung by your intimate display, the officer says an awkward goodbye and leaves.

Gavin twists open the bottle and squats down, giving it to Flyer. “Next time, if anyone confesses their feelings to you, just let Flyer bite him.”

At that moment, you’re unable to react. The righteous Gavin is actually telling you to get Flyer to bite people?

Perhaps sensing that his tone is a little bitter, he adds, “If you think letting a dog bite him isn’t good, then let me know. I’ll beat him up.”

...isn’t that worse?

[ LUCIEN ]

It’s common knowledge that Lucien’s seminars are always full. The female students attend to ogle at Lucien, while the male students attend to ogle at the girls. Of course, girls who find that they’re unable to match up to Lucien sometimes end up together with a guy who happens to like her.

To you, Lucien’s seminars are pretty much meaningless. Obscure terminology and strange chemistry-related processes are basically incomprehensible hieroglyphics.

You release a sigh, preparing to plop your head down to make up for lost sleep. Even if you can’t understand anything, you wouldn’t waste such a good class.

The boy next to you throws a small note onto your table. 

It reads: Classmate, I’ve seen you attending Professor Lucien’s seminars many times. Since there’s still no development, are you interested in becoming my girlfriend?

You purse your lips. Do kids these days not pay proper attention in class? Won’t a student get completely lost once he loses focus for one minute in Lucien’s class?

You borrow a pen from the girl sitting next to you, and write: Sorry, not interested.

You throw the note in the direction of the boy, but it hits something in mid-air, and falls to the ground.

Lucien is holding a book in his hand. He bends down to retrieve the note. When his gaze falls on the word “girlfriend”, his pupils constrict, but he smiles and asks, “Does this belong to you?”

Confessing that it’s mine would be the silliest thing to do! 

You shake your head furiously.

Lucien poses the same question to the boy, who is starting to break out in cold sweat. “Student, does this note belong to you?”

Pale-faced, he nods. Lucien places the note on the table neither softly or heavily. His knuckles tap the surface of the table, creating a slight sound. In your heart, you’re silently wishing the student all the best.

“It’s all right for your mind to wander in class, but don’t disrupt other students.” Lucien straightens up, then returns to the lectern.

You nod furiously. 

That’s right, that’s right, don’t disrupt other people when they’re trying to sleep.

“Also.” He smiles, his eyes crinkling, barely concealing a dangerous aura. It’s reminiscent of a fox hiding in the grass waiting to pounce on its prey.

“This student you’ve confessed your feelings to - you should be calling her... the wife of your teacher.” 

[ KIRO ]

Kiro likes it when you visit him at his workplace. Kiro likes it even more when you bring snacks when you visit him at his workplace.

But if things happened like it did today, he’d rather you not come. This way, his honey wouldn’t be desired by other people. 

That’s what Kiro thinks.

Kiro has always been serious when shooting movies, and the both of you have developed a certain tacit understanding. As long as you’ve reached the filming site, he can sense it, even if he doesn’t see you, It’s a radar he sometimes uses to ensure Savin doesn’t clear away his snacks.

Right now, Kiro feels a wave of inexplicable melancholy in his heart, and an uneasiness in his chest. All along seeking perfection, he immediately calls for the scene to stop, and asks the director if he could have time to organise his thoughts.

Taking into consideration how Kiro hasn’t had a break after two hours of shooting, the director agrees.

Kiro immediately rushes across the filming site. As expected, he sees a man stopping you at the entrance. 

The man is carrying a bouquet of gaudy red roses, displaying a pose he thinks makes him look dashing. “Will you be my girlfriend?”

You’re slightly startled by the suddenness of it all. However, you react quickly. “Sorry...”

“No!” Kiro takes large strides over, shielding you behind him. His hostile expression kind of resembles a mother bear protecting its cub - resolute, and unwilling to back down an inch.

Faint golden rims surround his pupils.

“In this lifetime and the next, and the lifetime after that, Miss Chips is mine! Don’t even think about taking one more step closer to her!”

[ SHAW ]

That little brat Shaw said he was going to reach soon even though his lessons have not yet ended. So you’re currently waiting in Loveland University with absolutely nothing to do.

Slightly upset, you kick a pebble into the lake, letting the ripples it creates alleviate your frustration.

“Doing that will scare the fishes,” a gentle male voice floats into your ears, and you instinctively turn towards it.

“You might not recognise me, but I frequently see you in the archaeology class,” he explains.

You nod as a form of greeting, then lower your head to send Shaw a message to get here quickly.

“Oh right, could I ask you something?”

“Sure.” You look at him in confusion, thinking there shouldn’t be anything worth asking between strangers.

“It might sound abrupt, but are you willing to be my girlfriend?” The male student looks at you with a serious expression on his face.

...he asked even though he knew it was abrupt?

You hear a familiar bark of laughter.

“I’d advise you not to.”

Before you can explain that you already have a boyfriend, Shaw continues. 

“She's stupid and likes to eat, but doesn’t like exercising. She refuses to acknowledge it when she loses in games. She’s so troublesome to deal with. I’d advise you not to make life difficult for yourself.”

This development is a little odd...

“Let’s go.” Shaw grabs your hand.

You walk with him, then hop up to whack him on the head when his guard is down. “Do you not care about my pride!?”

Shaw holds you to prevent you from losing your balance. “I’m just stating the truth. You’ve caused me enough trouble, so I’m saving others from harm.”

He has a quirky temperament, a thousand bad habits, and is incredibly annoying. 

There’s only one good thing about him.

And it’s that he loves you.

-

More translated and original works: here

-

[ Permission to translate ]

君兮耶君兮: You can - just note the source of the author

[euphoricsunflowers]

imperfect — lee hoseok/wonho (the gang au)

a/n: not my usual thing so i won’t add the taglist!! but!! @nct99 nae this is for you!! i hope you like it <33

word count: 1.2k

content: set in like 1920s prohibition gang kinda era you’re basically al capone, mob wife wonho is what i’ve been calling it he’s basically just your sexy trophy boyfriend but ur also like Whipped™️ as anyone in a relationship with this man should be, gang leader/mob boss!fem!reader, i’m not good with terminology you know what i’m trying to get across, i was sad today so this got angsty, finished this earlier but again i was sad so i just now got my shit together to post it, uhh you do kill a man, warnings for: death, gangs and gang violence, and general creepiness

(gif by @imnameimss)

the tension in the air is palpable, even though you know changkyun and minhyuk are sitting at the table next to you with the others scattered around the area, ready to send this speakeasy into chaos the moment you give the signal, “so, y/n...”

‘you don’t get to call me by my first name, lee. you know that,’ the words are on the tip of your tongue, but you hold them back. you hold them back because portraying any sense of hostility wouldn’t be helpful in this situation, and you can see changkyun peeking over at you from your peripherals, “do you want a drink? i’ll cover it.”

“i’m alright, doll, but thank you,” the pet name makes you dig your fingernails into your palms in order to hold back the urge to shoot him then and there, “i want to talk about a possible alliance. our gangs’ hostilities serve no benefit to either of us anymore. and i think… well, i’d like it if us two could get along much more personally.”

“oh? you got a crush on me or something?” you chuckle, but he doesn’t seem to like your humor.

“my gang has a monopoly on the alcohol in this city, so if you’re looking to make more money, all you need is me, baby,” you felt yourself have the urge to throw up, and you’re not subtle about that feeling. he doesn’t even seem bothered, reaching out to place his hand on top of yours in the most disgusting way possible, “let me help you, y/n, we don’t have to be enemies.”

he really wants to test you today, doesn’t he? “alcohol is not a commodity my gang is interested in, nor are we in a financially bad enough state to accept help from you. now if that’s all you wanted to talk about, clearly this was a waste of my time—” you turn to get up out of your seat.

“his name is hoseok, right?” lee’s voice echoes in your head, and you’re locked in place, head ringing at the implications of him knowing that name. it horrifies you to your core, knowing your one weak spot is that greek god-looking angel that you practically worship, “he’s quite the catch i suppose, no wonder you seemed so disgusted by all my advances. i wouldn’t try so hard to resist me though, babe, you don’t get anything out of that besides maybe your dignity. though i do want to laugh at how an irritable girl like you is in charge.”

you take a moment to compose yourself, before sitting back down in your seat, making very brief eye contact with your right-hand-man shownu across the room. his words make you want to shove his head through a wall, but looking over at a friendly face reminds you that you just needed to wait a big longer before you could unleash hell on this asshole, “you didn’t need to insult me to get your point across, lee. i’m fine with an alliance between us, but if it’s me you’re more interested in, then i’m afraid i can’t give you what you’re looking for.”

“oh? avoiding talking about him?” he smirks like he’s done again and again this conversation, like it’s all he does, “i wonder why that is.”

“i have nothing to hide, lee. yes, you’re correct on his name,” you mimic the way wonho brushes his thumb against the back of your hand to comfort yourself just like he does, thinking about how he rests his head on your shoulder and smiles up at you to calm your anxious heart.

“can i confess something?” he muses, leaning in with another smirk on his disgusting face, “the more you stay so insistent on not going along with me, the more i can’t wait to hear him scream.”

alarms ring in your head and every inch of your body miserably aches to shoot this man right now, but you hold yourself back just long enough to whisper a response, “can i confess something too? if you don’t mind,” he nods dismissively, and you lean into to whisper, “if only he wasn’t used to that, but i make him scream every night, darling.”

the second you hear the signal that you can shoot, you do. the gunshot rings through the air. everyone tries to leave the building, fearing for their own life. the only ones left at this run-down speakeasy are you, your gang members, and the bartender that you can see poorly attempting to hide behind the bar. you set your still smoking gun down on the table as lee’s body falls to the ground, blood pooling near the gunshot wound.

—

his hands gently caress your shoulders and arms as you hold him loosely by the waist in a kiss before resting your head on his shoulder, swaying back and forth to no music, just the sound of your voices. you press gentle kisses to his neck, smiling as you hear his soft giggles, “i missed you so much, baby.”

he sighs, suddenly much more melancholy, “i missed you too. you’re always out there, doing some things i don’t even want to know about, and every day i wonder if this is the day you don’t come home to me,” there’s a sadness in his eyes that you know you’re the cause of. there’s no hostility in his words (there never seems to be) only the bitter truth that the life you live isn’t exactly the safest.

“i know i can’t promise to always come back, but i love you so, so much, my pretty dove. i'm so grateful that you choose to love me, as imperfect as i am and as perfect as you are,” you murmur in between kisses on his jaw and chin, working your way up until you reach his lips.

“i love you,” he mumbles, hands calloused from lifting weights but still so soft in the way they cup your cheeks, “i love you more than anything.”

“the rival gang leader that i’ve been complaining about recently mentioned you when we met at the bar today,” you hold him tighter against you subconsciously, like you physically feared himdisappear from your grasp, “i’m sure you don’t want to know what happened, but i just keep thinking about how he said your name like it was a threat,” you murmur as you rest your forehead against his, “he knew you’re my weakness. and that terrified me.”

“i know, my love, i know. just keep holding me, i’m here with you right now, and that’s all that matters,” he whispers, and you’re content with doing just that.

even after moments pass of just holding him in your arms, basking in the warmth of his presence, you still can’t manage above a whisper when you speak next, “i'm an even bigger target now that i killed him,” you frown, “you realize that you’re a target too, hoseok.”

“i know,” he closes his eyes, focusing on the feeling of you with him. it’s all he really can do for now, “god, i love you so much, please just promise me that you’ll remember that when you’re out there. when there’s a gun pointed at your head, please remember that i’m not that strong of a person, and i couldn’t bear to lose you.”