#inspired by a late night depressive episode

[ktownshizzle]

Love & Lullabies | Part 3

Pairing: Min Yoongi x female Reader

Summary: What begins as a simple favor for your best friend Namjoon soon pulls you into the rhythms of Yoongi’s life—afternoons spent caring for his son, late nights filled with candid conversations, and a connection neither of you thought you needed. You’re just fresh out of a long-term relationship with an ex who didn’t want a family with you, so did you really just stumble into a life you’ve always dreamed of? (Thank god Namjoon isn’t the only one who’s clumsy.)

Alternatively: It’s 2025 and BTS is prepping for their comeback. All members seem to have gained muscle weight from their time at camp. But Min Yoongi has gained a different kind of weight—an 8-pound baby and a fuck-load of responsibility. (Thank god you’re there to help him.)

Genre: Fluff, Angst, Smut, idol!au, Acquaintances to Lovers, Reader is Namjoon’s bestie

Warnings: Yoongi is a DILF (!!!) That’s it.

Chapter warnings: GRAB YOUR TISSUES!, this bitch is a whole ass kdrama episode and it’s gonna hurt before it gets better, happy ending tho!, themes of self-loathing, anxiety, and depression (MC), severe postpartum depression (not MC), it’s monsoon season and namgi don’t like umbrellas, (____) in the rain cliche scene, NAMTIDDIES because I can’t help myself, lastly… watch me morph this into another workplace romance/co-workers to lovers story lmao (real)

Word count: ~7k

Posting date: November 21, 2024

Notes: This is inspired by an ask/prompt sent by @yoongznme. 

I am a clown 🤡 and a liar 🤥 From pretending this is a two-shot, then a three-shot. It has become a chaptered series, atp. There is a part 4 in the works and I fully intend to end it there, but again, I may have just jinxed myself. Anyway! Enjoy, my lovelies~ 💕

Part One | Part Two | Part Three | Part Four |  Masterlist

“She’s Haneul’s mom.”

The words hit you like a punch to the gut.

“What?”

“Sung Kyung and Yoongi… they’ve been good friends for years,” Namjoon explains quickly, his tone almost apologetic. “I didn’t think they were dating. But yeah, she’s his mom. She left for months and when she came back, she'd already given birth.”

You feel like the ground has been ripped out from under you. What Namjoon said made no sense. You clutch the edge of the counter, your mind racing. “What do you mean she left…?” You have never been more confused in your entire life.

Namjoon sighs. “I don’t know all the details. You know hyung, he tells you what he thinks you need to know. The rest, he keeps to himself. But I do know they did the paternity tests and everything, and Haneul’s his, theirs.”

Theirs. It’s easier if Namjoon just slices your heart open at this rate. 

He places a tentative hand on your shoulder. “It’s better to hear it straight from Yoongi-hyung, since you guys are, you know.”

“I– I don’t know. I don’t know what we are,” you say, leaning your weight sideways against the wall to steady yourself. 

Get a grip. It’s Haneul’s day. 

Namjoon stands to shield you from the rest, in case anybody chances to look your way. You probably look like you’re about to puke. You definitely feel like it.

“Joonie…” Your voice is small when you ask, “Do you think she wants to come back now?”

Namjoon lifts his shoulder, lets it sag, “I don’t know. Maybe. She wouldn’t be here otherwise.”

Your chest tightens, a wave of insecurity crashing over you. Of course, she would want to come back now. She’s beautiful, successful, everything you’re not. And most importantly, she’s Haneul’s mother. That’s the kicker. How can you compete with that?

Spoiler alert: you can’t.

When you step back into the living room, the first thing you notice is Yoongi’s mom. She’s standing off to the side, her lips pressed into a thin line as she glares at Sung Kyung from across the room with a mixture of disapproval and barely-contained irritation.

“She shouldn’t be here,” she says quietly, her voice cold and clipped.

“Eomma,” Yoongi grits.

“She abandoned Haneul, Yoongi,” his mom hisses, her tone sharper now. “And she thinks she can just come here like nothing happened?”

Yoongi sighs, his hand briefly brushing his mother’s arm in a silent plea for calm. “Not here, eomma. Please. It’s Haneul’s birthday. Don’t make a scene.”

Of course he is siding with her.

You’re unable to tear your eyes away from Sung Kyung. How can she look so beautiful even if she looks miserable? She exchanges a few more quiet words with Yoongi near the door, her expression alternating between frustration and what looks like regret. You can’t hear what they’re saying, but you catch the way Yoongi’s shoulders stiffen, the way his jaw tightens as she reaches out to brush his arm. You see Yoongi nod, and you’re so curious, what is he agreeing to?

Finally, after what feels like an eternity, she leaves. The door is closed, but for sure this chapter isn’t. Not even close.

You entertain yourself by watching some of the BTS members play some video games. Their antics, as funny as they are, don’t really register. Your laughs are hollow, mind totally elsewhere. It’s a while before Yoongi finally finds you, after he disappeared to his studio after Sung Kyung left and went MIA for half an hour or so.

He corners you near the snack table as you pretend to be engrossed in arranging leftover cupcakes.

“Hey,” he says softly, touching your arm lightly.

You turn to face him, your smile brittle. “Hey. How’s everything going?”

“Can we talk?”

You nod, following him toward the hallway, away from the laughter and chatter. The noise completely fades as you enter his soundproof studio and he turns to face you.

He exhales deeply, running a hand through his hair. “I wanted to talk to you,” he says carefully, like he’s choosing every word with precision.

“About Sung Kyung.” you offer. He nods, shoulders visibly tense. “Yeah. And Haneul.”

The mention of Haneul makes your chest tighten, but you steady yourself, waiting for him to continue.

“She and I… we were close for a long time,” he begins, his gaze dropping to the floor. “And yeah, there was a point where I thought it was going somewhere. But then she just… disappeared.”

“Disappeared?”

“She left Korea. No warning, no explanation. Just… ghosted.” He shrugs. “I didn’t know where she went or why. She didn’t contact me for months.”

“And then one day,” he continues, “she called. Told me she just gave birth to a son. That it was mine.”

The words hang between you, heavy and jarring. You don’t say anything, letting him get it all out.

“She didn’t tell me she was pregnant,” he says, shaking his head as if he still can’t believe it. “I literally only found out after he was born.”

You feel a pang of sympathy, but then you’re also feeling angry at Sung Kyung. “Why did she wait so long to tell you?”

“She said she didn’t want to burden me. I was already doing my military service and I had that thing… that case. She thought she could handle it on her own.” He looks up at you then, his eyes dark and conflicted. “But after she had him… she couldn’t. She fell into really severe postpartum depression and some other health issues, basically telling me she was diagnosed unfit to take care of him.”

Your throat tightens, and you clasp your hands together to keep them from shaking. “So you stepped in.”

He nods, “I didn’t have a choice. Haneul needed someone, and I couldn’t—I wouldn’t turn my back on him. He’s my son. It was confirmed by a paternity test.”

“And now she’s back,” you say, more a statement than a question.

“Yeah,” he says quietly, dragging a hand down his face. “She says she’s better. That she wants to be in his life now. That she can be. And honestly… I don’t know what to do.”

You study him for a moment, your emotions warring between compassion and your own sense of inadequacy. “What do you want, Yoongi? Not for her, not for Haneul. What do you want?”

“I don’t know,” he admits, gnawing his lip before he says, “I just… I want to do what’s right for Haneul.”

The words cut deeper than you expected, but you force a small smile, nodding as if they don’t sting. “That makes sense.”

Yoongi takes a step closer as he studies your face. “But what about you?” he asks, his voice almost too gentle. “How are you feeling about all this?”

The sincerity in his question takes you off guard, and for a moment, you’re tempted to tell him everything. The ache in your chest, the jealousy you hate admitting to, the fear of losing whatever connection the two of you have built. But instead, you plaster on a smile, shoving all those emotions into a corner of your mind.

“I’m fine,” you say lightly. “It’s Haneul’s birthday. That’s what matters.”

Yoongi doesn’t look convinced, his gaze lingering on you as if he’s trying to read the truth in your expression. But after a moment, he nods, letting it drop. “Okay.”

Finally, you glance at the door, forcing yourself to straighten up. “We should probably get back to the party.”

“Yeah,” Yoongi says, stepping aside to let you pass. But as you reach for the door, his voice stops you.

“Thank you,” he says quietly.

You turn back, your brows furrowing. “For what?”

“For everything,” he says, his eyes filled with something you can’t quite name.

You don’t know how to respond, so you just nod. Because his words—why did it feel like a goodbye?

The rest of the party passes in a blur. You keep smiling, keep laughing, keep pretending everything is fine. You stand by as Yoongi helps Haneul blow out his single candle, snapping pictures of his chubby hands smashing into the frosting. 

You’re wiping stray frosting from Haneul’s cheek when you glance at him and for a split second, you see her. Sung Kyung’s face is right there, faint but unmistakable, in the shape of his eyes and the curve of his brows.

The realization hits you like a freight train. You freeze, the cloth clutched in your hand, staring at this beautiful baby boy who isn’t yours. Who will never be yours.

It’s too much. You set the muslin down, excusing yourself to the kitchen with a muttered, “I’ll grab more drinks.”

You don’t even make it to the fridge. You stand there by the counter, gripping its edge as you force yourself to breathe, to keep the tears at bay. You’ve never felt more out of place in your life.

Namjoon finds you a few moments later, leaning against the doorway with a quiet, watchful look. He doesn’t say anything, doesn’t ask if you’re okay. He just stays there, close but not too close, his presence steady and silent. You appreciate him for that—for knowing exactly what you need when you’re unraveling. He’s your best friend after all.

But even his quiet support isn’t enough to keep the emotions at bay.

Across the room, Yoongi’s eomma catches your eye. There’s something pitying in the glances she throws your way, a faint furrow of her brow that makes you want to sink into the floor. You had the feeling she knows there’s something between you and Yoongi, but now… now it feels like she’s seeing through you, like she knows exactly how small you’re starting to feel.

Because the truth is, you’re nothing.

You’re not Haneul’s mom. You’re not Yoongi’s girlfriend. You’re just someone who helps out when it’s convenient, and now that they have a nanny, you’re not even that. And it hurts. God, it hurts because you thought—maybe foolishly, maybe selfishly—that you were becoming something more. That you were becoming someone to them. That, maybe, you were becoming a family.

But now, as you stand there watching Yoongi carry Haneul to his room, barely sparing you a glance, the truth sinks in like a stone in your chest. You’re not someone. You’re a placeholder. A stand-in.

And pretty soon, just like Jiyong, they’re going to discard you. Because that’s what always happens. You’re always easy to leave behind. Always replaceable. Always useless.

The thought claws at you, and you suddenly can’t breathe. You grab your things and run. The cool night air stings your skin, but it’s nothing compared to the ache in your chest.

The tears come before you can stop them, hot and angry and full of every ounce of self-loathing you’ve tried to bury.

You glance back at the building. Maybe for the last time. You’re on the outside now—of course you are. You’ve been on the outside this entire time.

Namjoon must have noticed you were gone because he texted shortly after:

Joonie: You okay? Joonie: Don’t worry, I told them you weren’t feeling well. Go home and rest. Text me when you’re there.

That night, you ignored Yoongi’s call. You stared at the screen as his name lit up, your finger hovering over the answer button before you let it ring out. He left a voicemail. You deleted it without listening.

The next morning, you wake up to another call from him. This time, he doesn’t leave a voicemail. Instead, he sends a message.

Yoongi: Can I come over?

You stare at the text for a long time, your stomach twisting with guilt and anger and sadness. Finally, you type out a single word:

You: No

You throw your phone face-down on the couch, ignoring the way it buzzes again and again and again.

For the next few days, you ghost him.

It wasn’t easy. Every time your phone buzzes, you feel a pang of guilt, a deep ache that gnaws at your resolve. But you can’t bring yourself to answer. You need time. You need to figure out where you stood in all of this.

His messages come sporadically at first:

Yoongi: Hey, can we talk? Yoongi: I don’t know what I did wrong, but I want to fix it. Yoongi: Please. Just let me know you’re okay.

You delete most of them without reading too much into them. But then he starts sending pictures.

The first was of Haneul, grinning in his chair, wearing the capybara slippers you’d gifted him for his birthday.

Yoongi: Haneul misses you

The next day, another photo. This time, Haneul was lying on his playmat, still wearing the slippers, holding onto Bora.

Yoongi: Still missing you

Each message chips away at your resolve, but the one that breaks you comes Thursday evening:

A short video clip. In it, Haneul is sitting on the floor, babbling as he clutches Bora. And then, clear as day, he says it:

“Sa-ra.”

Your heart twists painfully. It’s clipped, but it’s unmistakably sarang. Your term of endearment for him, the nickname you’d called him since he started smiling every time he heard it. He’d never been able to say it back—not until now.

And Yoongi knows exactly what he is doing, sending this to you.

You stare at the screen for what feels like an eternity, leaving the video on loop, before finally opening your call log. His name was right at the top, of course. You hit the call button, your hands trembling as you bring the phone to your ear.

“Hello?” Yoongi’s voice comes through almost immediately.

You exhale shakily. “Hi.”

There was a pause. Then he speaks again, and you can hear his vulnerability. “I didn’t think you’d call back.”

You close your eyes, trying to steady yourself. “How could I ignore that video? Haneul… he said sarang.”

“Yeah, he’s been saying it non-stop since yesterday.”

You swallowed hard, gripping the phone tighter. “Yoongi… about… us.”

“Mmh?” He didn’t interrupt, didn’t rush you. He just waited.

“I’ve been thinking,” you began. “Haneul deserves to have a complete family. He deserves to know his mom, to have her in his life. If—if that’s what you both want.”

Yoongi was quiet for a long moment before he finally responded. “But… he needs you, too.”

Before you can back out, “Yoongi, I need space,” you say finally, your voice trembling.

There was a pause, and when he spoke again, his voice was quiet. “Okay.”

It wasn’t a protest. It wasn’t an argument. Just… okay. It’s the most ‘Yoongi’ reaction to things, and you hate it. You hate it so much.

You hang up, staring at the screen until it goes dark. Your chest felt heavy, your heart splintering in ways you didn’t know it could.

You’d told him you needed space and he said okay. The truth is, when you said space, you just wanted him to make room for you. To assure you that you belong with them. That there is a seat, warm and yours. But he didn’t.

You miss Yoongi so much it feels like a physical ache. But it’s not just him. You miss Haneul’s face, his giggles, his sleepy weight in your arms. 

Namjoon has been doing his best to check in. He sends you UberEats nearly every other day, a steady stream of meals you barely touch. The one time he came over, unannounced, he walked into what could only be described as a disaster.

“Jesus Christ,” Namjoon muttered, kicking a stray box out of his way as he entered your apartment. The laundry basket was overflowing, your trash can piled up. You were in a 2-day old shirt, hair a rat’s nest, and you’re slouched on the couch with an empty brain.

Namjoon stared at you, his disappointment radiating off him. “Y/N, you can’t keep doing this to yourself.”

“I’m fine,” you lied, barely looking at him.

He scoffed. “Fine? You look like you’ve been run over by a truck. Twice.”

“So dramatic.” You rolled your eyes, but the truth of his words stung.

Namjoon crouched in front of you, placing his hands on your knees. “Move in with me for now. You know I have the space. You can’t stay here like this. It’s not healthy.”

“I’m not moving in with you, Joon,” you said, shaking your head. “I’m not your charity case.”

He sighed, rubbing his temples. “You’re not a charity case. You’re my best friend. And I’m not gonna sit back and watch you drown in your own misery.”

“I’m not gonna live in your and Soyeon’s sex den,” you snapped unnecessarily.

Namjoon just looked at you, shook his head, before he flopped beside you on the couch. He fed you, forced you to go take a shower, and watched some shitty reality show with you. He eventually left, though you could feel the weight of his disappointment long after the door shut behind him. If he only knew how thankful you were of those visits.

A week later, you find yourself standing in front of Yoongi’s apartment. You didn’t plan this. You don’t even know what you’re hoping to achieve by being here. All you know is that the ache of missing them—missing him—has become unbearable.

You knock on the door before you can second-guess yourself.

Mrs. Kwon opens it, her expression immediately uneasy. “Y/N,” she says, her tone cautious. “You should come back another time.”

“Why?” you ask, your voice sharper than you intended.

She hesitates, her lips pressing into a thin line. “It’s just… not a good time.”

“I need to see them,” you insist, stepping forward.

“My dear girl, please listen—”

But you’re already past her, your determination overriding her warnings.

When you step into the living room–

Fuck.

There she is. Sung Kyung, sitting on the floor with Haneul in her lap, holding a plush toy you don’t recognize. She’s smiling at him, her voice soft as she tries to coax him into playing with it. Adding salt to the wound–Bora, the capybara plush you gave Haneul, is discarded carelessly in the corner near the diaper pail.

Your heart stops, and before you can control yourself, you take a step back, your movement catching Sung Kyung’s attention. She looks up, confused. She doesn’t know you, why would she? 

Yoongi’s voice comes from behind you, and you turn to see him emerging from his studio, his brows furrowed in confusion. “Who rang the—”

His eyes widen when he sees you, but you’re already moving, your feet carrying you toward the door in a blind rush.

“Wait—Y/N!”

You barely hear him as you bend down and snatch Bora from the floor. Haneul’s voice suddenly cuts through the air, his tiny, excited voice calling out, “Sa-ra! Sa-ra!”

Tears blur your vision as you wrench the door open and run, Yoongi’s voice calling after you, but you don’t stop.

It’s raining when you step outside. Great, because this day couldn’t get any worse. The cold droplets soak through your clothes almost instantly. You don’t have an umbrella, but you don’t give a shit. Tears stream down your face mixing with the rain.

You don’t know how far you get before you feel it—a warmth against your back, arms wrapping around you tightly.

Yoongi’s voice cracks as he says your name, his rain-soaked body like a furnace against your shivering frame. “Please.”

He sounds like he is begging, but why? What is he asking? What does he want from you?

You shake your head, your voice breaking. “This was a mistake. I shouldn’t have come.”

“Then why did you?” he asks, his tone desperate, his chest heaving as he pulls you tighter.

“Because I thought… I thought I had a place here. But I’m such a fucking idiot.”

“Don’t say that,” he pleads, his voice barely audible over the rain as he turns you to face him. His hands come up to cradle your face. He was starting to shake too, the pads of his fingers damp against your skin. His eyes search yours, desperate, and before you can stop him—or yourself—he closes the space between you and kisses you.

Against the pouring rain, your lips press against each other, clumsy, shaky, unexpectedly urgent. His lips move like he’s trying to say all the things he can’t find the words for, like this is his only way to make you understand. And for a second, maybe a minute, maybe more, you let him.

You feel his ragged breaths as he licks into your mouth, his hair brushing your temple, droplets trailing down your skin. His hand slides from your cheek to the nape of your neck, fingers threading gently through your wet hair. It’s tender and fierce all at once, like he’s afraid you might vanish if he lets go.

But there is a tinge of bitterness cutting through the taste of his kiss. This isn’t enough—not to fix everything, not to erase the doubt clawing at the edges of your mind. Not to prevent the new thoughts from worming its way inside.

Sung Kyung is in his apartment right now. So maybe it’s not just about Haneul anymore. Maybe they’re reconciling. Trying to sort out their own feelings that they put on ice. Yoongi did say he thought their relationship was going somewhere. 

God, you do not want to be some homewrecker. You cannot do that to Haneul. Weakly you try to pull back. 

But Yoongi doesn’t let you. His lips chase yours, teeth gently sinking into your plush and you’re unable to stifle the moan from your mouth at the delicious sting. You open up to him, lips sliding against his as his other hand grips your waist now, pulling you closer until you can really feel the heat of his body through the drenched fabric of his clothes. The world feels like it’s spinning, everything is blending into a dizzying blur, and you don’t know how to stop it.

Your hand hovers at his chest, not pushing him away but not pulling him closer either. Your heart is screaming to hold on just a little longer. But your head is telling you—

“No,” you whisper, breaking away as quickly as you can without slipping on the slick ground. Your chest heaves as you clutch Bora tighter against you.

Yoongi stands frozen, his lips parted as if he’s about to speak, his dark eyes locked on yours. The rain clings to his lashes, his hair plastered to his forehead, and for a moment, he looks completely lost.

“I can’t do this, Yoongi,” you choke out, your voice shaking. “I just… I can’t.”

And before he can stop you, you turn and run again, your feet splashing through puddles as you make your way to the nearest bus stop. By some miracle, you make your way home in one piece. Barring one vital organ that’s discarded somewhere in Hannam.

My tea's gone cold, I'm wondering why I Got out of bed at all The morning rain clouds up my window And I can't see at all And even if I could, it'd all be gray But your picture on my wall It reminds me that it's not so bad, it's not so bad - Stan, Eminem

Your apartment is cold and quiet, the soft patter of rain against the windows the only sound. The mug of tea on your table has long since gone cold, untouched, as you sit curled up on the couch, staring at that grainy selca Yoongi sent you weeks ago. 

You’re startled out of your thoughts by the sound of the door opening. Namjoon steps in, shaking off the rain and holding a grocery bag in one hand, his hoodie slung over his shoulder. He’s soaked to the bone, but he flashes you his dimples anyway.

“You know,” he starts, setting the bag on the counter, “for someone who always claims they’re fine, you sure as hell don’t look it.”

“Don’t start, Joon,” you mumble, pulling the blanket tighter around yourself.

Namjoon ignores you, glancing around the apartment with a disapproving look. “Seriously? It still looks like you just moved in. No decorations, no warmth. This part could be a photo wall or something…”

You roll your eyes. “Alright, Mr. Art influencer.”

“I need a dry shirt,” he says, gripping the edge of his tee and pulling it up and over his head without fanfare.

You’ve never felt attracted to your best friend in any physical or sexual way ever (seriously, ew), but you can appreciate a good physique when you see one.

“Wow, Joonie, are your tiddies getting bigger?” you say as you stand to find a shirt for him from your makeshift closet.

“You’re an idiot.”

Before you can respond, the doorbell rings. Namjoon straightens, wiping his hands on his pants. “You expecting someone?”

You shake your head.

Namjoon strides to the door, glancing through the peephole with a tsk before pulling it open. He doesn’t seem to care that he’s shirtless, which would be awkward enough if it were anyone else standing there. 

But it’s Yoongi.

Yoongi stands in the hallway, his expression strained, his eyes immediately scanning the room behind Namjoon until they land on you, curled on the couch. You clutch the t-shirt you were about to lend Namjoon tighter against your chest, unsure whether to feel relief, anger, or the painful longing that’s been gnawing at you for days.

“I need to talk to her,” Yoongi says, his voice calm but heavy with emotion.

Namjoon steps into the doorway, crossing his arms as he blocks the entrance. “Maybe not today, hyung.”

Yoongi’s jaw tightens, but he doesn’t flinch. “I have to. I need to explain.”

Namjoon doesn’t budge, his voice soft but firm. “Sorry, hyung. Not after everything.”

Yoongi’s eyes flick to you again, desperate. “I just… fuck,” He swallows hard, his voice breaking slightly. “I can’t let her think she doesn’t matter to me. She does. More than anyone.”

Namjoon hesitates for the first time, glancing back at you. His expression softens briefly, but when he turns to Yoongi again, it’s your voice that responds.

“Yoongi.” Your voice is quiet, but it cuts through the tension like a blade. Both men turn to you, and the hope that flashes across Yoongi’s face makes your lungs shrivel.

You grip the fabric in your hands tighter, willing yourself to stay firm. “You should go.”

Yoongi’s lips part as if to argue, but the look in your eyes silences him. He nods once, slowly, his expression crumbling for just a moment before he turns away.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers, his voice so soft you almost don’t hear it.

Namjoon watches him for a moment longer before stepping back into the apartment and shutting the door.

The first step is always the hardest.

Namjoon didn’t sugarcoat anything when he told you to get your shit together. “I love you,” he said bluntly after Yoongi left that rainy night, “but you’re the only one who can pull yourself out of this. No one else is coming to save you. Not me. Not Jiyong. Not Yoongi. Just you.”

You hated hearing it, but he was right.

So you took the first step: you called a therapist. Twice a week, you sat in that tiny, clinical room and talked about everything you’d buried for years. The abandonment issues you’d carried since childhood. The shame you felt after your relationship with Jiyong fell apart. The way you constantly give pieces of yourself to others, just like you did with Haneul and Yoongi, leaving nothing for yourself. Thinking that’s okay.

Session by session, the fog began to lift. Slowly, you started to understand that happiness couldn’t come from someone else, no matter how deeply you loved them. It had to come from you—built piece by piece, nurtured, protected.

You realized that loving yourself wasn’t selfish. It was necessary. And for the first time in months, you began to believe you were worthy of it.

At home, you started small. One night, you finally tackled the pile of laundry that had been haunting you for weeks. Another night, you scrubbed down the kitchen until the counters gleamed. And then one weekend, you went to IKEA and bought a bed frame—not just a functional one, but a beautiful one that made you feel excited to wake up in the mornings.

You even hung up paintings on the walls, little pops of color that made the apartment feel like it was actually yours. Namjoon gave you some from his collection, too.

Running sucks, but it became your nightly ritual. At first, it was hard. Your legs ached, and your lungs burned. But the more you pushed yourself, the better it felt—the rush of endorphins, the rhythm of your feet hitting the pavement, the way your thoughts quieted for just a little while.

Bit by bit, you started to feel lighter. Like you were shedding layers of weight you didn’t even realize you were carrying.

And then there was Yoongi.

He was still a constant name on your phone, though the tone of his messages had shifted over time. At first, his texts were full of apologies and pleas for a second chance:

Yoongi: I know I messed up. Please let me make it right.

Yoongi: I’m sorry for everything. I hate that I hurt you.

Yoongi: I need you, Y/N. I should have told you sooner.

Yoongi: Can I come over? I really want to explain everything.

Yoongi: I’m an idiot.

Yoongi: I’ll wait for you. Just tell me when you’re ready to talk.

Then came the texts about Haneul:

Yoongi: Haneul misses you. Not to one-up my own kid, but I miss you more.

Yoongi: Han said your name today. He kept pointing at the door like he was waiting for you to walk in.

Yoongi: I bought him a new Bora. This giraffe is lame. [image attached]

Yoongi: Han’s been carrying Bora 2.0 everywhere. He even tried to feed it rice last night.

And now, weeks later, his messages had settled into something different.

Yoongi: I was in the studio all day, and Hobi made me take a break. We ended up eating too much fried chicken and now I have a zit.

Yoongi: How was your run today? Namjoonah says you’re joining a mini marathon. Good luck!

Yoongi: Still have boxes of Silver Moon tea. It’s too bougie for my ghetto taste buds. Lmk if you want it. Yoongi: Actually, no need. I'll send it thru Namjoonah.

Yoongi: I fucked up the choreography to our new track at Mubank today like an amateur. I hope you didn’t get to watch it.

They were simple, almost mundane. But Yoongi’s texts had a way of hitting you square in the chest. You think back to that conversation in his home, the one where he admitted how lonely he sometimes felt—how he wished for someone to talk to about the little things, the big milestones, everything in between. Someone to share life with. And now, with every message he sends, it feels like he’s choosing you.

Even though weeks have passed without seeing him, he’s still there. Reaching out. Trying to stay connected. Even when you never reply.

But his messages have become tiny bursts of dopamine in your otherwise quiet days. You’re both surprised and relieved he hasn’t stopped trying, that he hasn’t grown tired of pouring himself into the void of your Kakao.

Namjoon told you recently that Yoongi and Sung Kyung have started co-parenting Haneul. She gets supervised visits twice a month. At first, the green-eyed monster threatened to come out. But your best friend tells you that Yoongi never wanted to rekindle anything with Sung Kyung, which gave you some peace. Maybe if you’d been braver back then, you could’ve asked Yoongi yourself. Maybe if Yoongi had been better at communicating, he would have told you then it wouldn’t have felt like such an uphill climb.

But, he was also having such a difficult time, sorting through his own circumstances. And your insecurities at the time were too heavy, too overwhelming to sift through. You probably wouldn’t have believed him then. The progress you’ve made now—to love yourself first—feels hard-won and necessary. And maybe Yoongi also needed to go on a journey to really know what he wants for him and Haneul.

You’ve come to realize through all this that you don’t really hate Sung Kyung. Maybe you were angry on behalf of Yoongi and Haneul for all the secrets she kept, for the ways her choices hurt them both. There was even a night when you found yourself doing a Naver search on postpartum depression. You hadn’t understood how debilitating it could be, how it could turn even the strongest person into a shell of themselves. It didn’t excuse everything, but it gave you perspective, especially as you battle your own demons.

Still, as you journey forward, there are moments when you imagine the “what ifs” with Yoongi, if Sung Kyung hadn't showed up that day. Sometimes, late at night, your mind drifts back to him. You replay his kiss, remembering the way it felt, the way he tasted. You can still conjure the image of his face under the rain, the way he looked at you in that fleeting, heart-wrenching moment.

You wonder if he thinks about it, too. You know he’s waiting. You just hope that when you’re finally ready to let him back in, he’ll still be there—on the other side, willing to try again.

One evening, Namjoon called, his tone unusually excited. “Hey, I’ve got something for you.”

“No, I don’t need more lube, I’m stocked,” you joked, just to be a piece of shit.

“Shut up and listen,” he said, laughing. “Hybe’s opening a daycare for employees’ kids. They need someone to run it. You’re perfect for this.”

Your stomach flipped. “What? Joonie, I don’t even—”

“Don’t even try to argue,” he interrupted. “You have a degree in early childhood education. You love kids. This was your literal job in the states. C’mon, this is made for you.”

“What if I’m not ready?”

Namjoon sighed. “You are. I’ve seen how much work you’ve been putting in. You’re stronger than you think. Just… apply. The worst they can do is say no.”

You’re quiet, so he added. “...and they won’t. I’ll have each member of Bangtan sign a recommendation letter for you.”

“You’re too much, Joonie,” you laugh. But you surely won’t put it past him to do that. “But ok, I’ll apply.”

So you did. And a week later, you got the call.

Your first day at Hybe’s daycare center feels like a dream you didn’t know you had. The space is beautiful—sunlight streams through floor-to-ceiling windows, casting a warm glow over the colorful toys, tiny tables, and pastel murals. There are only three kids who pre-registered, but you were expecting more to walk in.

Namjoon is there, truly your ride or die, sitting casually on your desk with his ever-supportive grin. “You nervous?” 

“Nope,” you say, trying to sound confident. But the way your voice wavers gives you away.

Namjoon chuckles. “Relax. You’re going to crush this.”

Before you can respond, the door swings open, and in walks Hobi with Yunjin and their toddler, Jeongyeon. The little girl looks adorable in her sunflower-patterned overalls, her tiny pigtails bobbing as she walks toward the play area.

“Jeongyeon, say hi to teacher Y/N,” Yunjin says, gently guiding her forward.

“Hi!” Jeongyeon squeaks.

You crouch down to her level. “Hi, Jeongyeon! You’re gonna have so much fun today.”

“First kid of the day, ayeeee!" Hobi says, high-fiving Yunjin, before she runs to Jeongyeon who is mounting the toy pony. Then he turns to you, “Congratulations, Y/N.”

Just as they’re leaving, Namjoon nudges you. “By the way, did you know there’s a capybara mascot today?”

“What?” you blink, confused.

Before Namjoon can explain, something soft and warm suddenly envelops you in a hug. You turn to see a capybara mascot wrapping its plush arms around you, its giant head tilted adorably to the side.

“What the…” You laugh, surprised, grasping its arm. “Hybe really went all out, huh?”

Namjoon smirks. “Of course. First-day activations are a big deal here. And look at that, your favorite animal. What a coincidence.”

You grin, stepping back to look at the mascot. “Guess I’m a little biased, but this might be the cutest thing ever.”

The mascot gives you an exaggerated thumbs-up. 

Shortly, Haneul arrives. The moment you see him toddling through the door, all your nerves, all the weight you’d carried for weeks—gone. There’s no ache, no tension. Just pure, uncomplicated happiness.

His nanny, a kind older woman, walks him in, holding his hand as he peers curiously around the room.

Haneul bounds toward you giggling, his gummy smile stretching wide as he lets go of the nanny’s hand and waddles toward you.

“Hi, sarang,” you say, crouching down to scoop him into your arms. He smells like baby lotion and sunshine, and your chest feels full as he buries his face in your shoulder. “I missed you.”

You glance toward the door, your eyes darting around instinctively, but there’s no sign of Yoongi. A small pang of disappointment settles in your stomach before you shake it off. He’s probably holed up in his studio, working on something brilliant. It would have been nice to see him though.

The capybara mascot wanders over, drawing Haneul’s attention instantly. His eyes light up as he points at it, giggling.

“Appa!” Haneul says excitedly, punching the knee of the mascot with his tiny fists.

You laugh, brushing a hand through his soft hair. “That’s not your appa, Haneul. He’s probably in one of the big studios upstairs working very hard right now.”

The mascot gives you a pat on the head, and something about its movements feels oddly familiar. But you don’t dwell on it, too caught up in Haneul’s delighted squeals as the mascot does a little dance for him. It sure loves to shake its ass.

For the rest of the morning, you’re in your element, guiding the kids through activities, wiping tears, and singing songs during circle time. Every so often, Haneul points at the mascot and calls out “Appa!” again, and you can’t help but laugh.

And if the capybara mascot seems to hover a little longer around Haneul, or if it lingers near you whenever there’s a chance, well… you just chalk it up to coincidence.

(One day, much later, you’ll find out the truth. But for now, you’re content not knowing.)

That night, your phone buzzes in your pocket, and you pull it out to find another message from Yoongi.

Yoongi: Congratulations on your first day!

You stare at the screen, your thumb hovering over the keyboard. For the first time in weeks, as you look at your thread of messages from him, you let yourself smile—a small, cautious smile, but a smile nonetheless. And for the first time in months of radio silence, you type up your first reply to him.

You: Thanks, Yoongi. I’m really happy. :)

His reply came almost immediately.

Yoongi: You deserve it

And it may have taken a while, but you finally believe that. So you decide you are also finally ready to do this.

You: Can we talk? Yoongi: giv me 10 mins im cming overr

:)

A/N: 

Alright!! Wheeeew! You good? How are you feeling?!?!? As usual, please sound off in the comments. 💕

I just want to say that am so proud of this chapter. I think I wrote my best, angst work here. Plus - Kissing in the rain? Namtiddies? A taste of smau? Hee hee. 🤗 

If you make it to here, thank you so so much for reading this story, you lovely, beautiful, human! xo

Part 4 is coming uppp and it’s gonna be a doozy~ 🤭

P.S. As some of y’all know I am a mom and I have experienced post-partum depression before. It was nowhere near the severity of how it is depicted here (a condition that is grave and rare because the character also has other mental struggles), but I empathize. I cannot imagine being truly unfit to care for my own baby. So I request that we do not vilify L&L! LSK. She fucked up real baddd, she could’ve involved Yoongi earlier, etc etc but again she is trying to do better. Plusss, it needs to be said, she does not want Yoongi. Gasp. Y’all can rest easy. He’s yours! 💕

& If you want to read more of my work, please check out my masterlist. & If you enjoy my work and want to buy me a ko-fi, I'd appreciate it.

Taglist:

@yoongznme @nnybtitts08 @rinkud @nbjch05 @perfectiondazesworld

@marnz1990 @mxrauds @queenbloody @jadestonedaeho7 @futuristicenemychaos

@direnediane @glossdebut @maryhopemei @theresstardustinmyblood @mggv97

@wobblewobble822 @kam9404 @supernoonanyc @damn-u-min-yoongi @ot72025

@busanbby-jjk @granataepfelchen @jajabro @tarahardcore @marihoneywk

@ryryvna @tea4sykes @mar-lo-pap @lilkittenjenjen

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@kookiewithluv @soop-sprite @hyukaluve

[poeticjackalope]

i meditate instead of smoking weed when i want to kill myself

find me pressed against the bed frame, closed into the almost-silence of my room with my back straight, “as if someone is pulling the top of your head by a string.” no one ever tells you that proper posture hurts like a bitch when you’re perpetually slouched. 

take your place next to me, shuffling against the carpet until we’ve found the correct position, my hand finds yours and two things become one. before you came in, one of those guided meditation audios was playing, you know the one– voiced by some thirty something who sounds like they have their shit together.

now we fall into it with only the rise and fall of our chests as a guide. ‘close your eyes’ i say, ‘i have something to show you’.

in the empty space between my consciousness and unconsciousness rests the stump of a tree. the clean cut reveals decades of rings of a life that learned to exist ungrudgingly. 

stories are written in the wood grain of each uneven line. it’s best to acknowledge the drought when you look at the layers made thin by the flickering led’s of every bathroom stall we became acquainted with. between years are scorches of black scabbed bark, burnt from nights spent in the fold of our own thoughts. it’s easy to indulge the sorrow when you linger on them for too long, but you can’t ignore that the tree keeps growing. 

as we look on, each layer grows thicker, reminding us– insisting even– that we are real and alive, that there are roots anchored in, like veins. we’ve made this place our home, no matter how much we hate to love it.

you reach out to trace the life lived in the lines, and the stump, because all things must end, unfurls. wood recycles into an old-new shape, the past stands towering above us.

in one blink, it’s a pine. it’s flesh is soft and forgiving. in the next, it’s an elm, strong and reliable bark that gives selflessly.

time moves in between the clench of our fingers, grass growing thick and dancing under the civil dawn sky. moss winds up our legs while birds find their home here, there’s music weaving through the leaves. change is gradual, but it brings something close to peace with it, it almost feels like permission to rest. ‘i’m ready to go’ you say, ‘thank you’.

we surface from the dream with hands still clasped on a lifeline. i pluck out the leaves tangled in your hair and press them between the pages of a book, and despite the irony, i’m finally convinced that everything is okay in the end.

[gildedoak]

Radioapple Week Day 1 - Late Night/Early Morning

For those who haven’t heard THIS SONG by OkJess - treat yourself to an earworm!

Click here for Part 2!

Description below the cut!

[IMAGE DESCRIPTION: the HAZBIN HOTEL kitchen, 2:15am

Alastor bends down, waving a hand in front of Lucifer's face. Lucifer looks like he's turning into primordial ooze, becoming one with the table he's slumped over. In one hand, he's clutching his "I quack myself up" mug, which is full of hot coffee. His eyes are wide and bloodshot as he stares off into the distance, and his hair is a mess.

A: (thinking to himself) Well this is... concerning.

L: (blearily) ....wuh?

A few blurbs point to Alastor: - has been trying to get his attention for the past 15 minutes - just finished his late night radio show

A few blurbs on Lucifer: - fighting off a depressive episode - hasn't slept in 72 hours - has maybe had 72 coffees - he lost track after #50 - was struck with inspiration for more duck designs at 3am (...3 days ago)

END DESCRIPTION]

[thatsthewrongwallcraig]

I know you wrote for Kappa/Euro. Hear me out.. could you write for Euro/Dead from lords of chaos? No one writes for jack kilmer and it drives me insane‼️😭

Pure Fucking Armaggedon

Summary: In the midst of a heavy night of partying with the Black Circle, you crave your boyfriend's attention but just like so often lately, he's very much not interested, leading you to meet your needs somewhere else…

Pairing: Dead x fem!Reader x Euronymous

Word Count: ~3.7k

Content Warnings: Trve Kvlt Smvt 18+!, Talk About Depression/Mental Illness, Talk About Self-Harm, Very Angsty, Hurt/Comfort...ish, Alcohol, Smoking, Cheating…But With A Twist, Fingering, Unprotected P In V, Creampie, Pet Names

A/N: Hi, anonnie! Thank you very much for this ask <3 Before everybody jumps into my inbox about Jack Kilmer: Please don’t, okay? He’s not tickling my brain like Rory does and I’d hate to let y’all down by having requests sitting in my inbox collecting dust 🖤 However, I'd be lying if I said I wasn't having a lot of fun writing this chaos!

Massive thanks to @spookyorchid for endlessly entertaining my rambles and inspiring me!

Disclaimer: This is solely based on the characters depicted in Lords Of Chaos!

Tagging the horny horde:

@crypticsewerslut @quicksilversg1rl @cc-luvr @icarus-star @milaeth @roryculkinsgf @spookyorchid @arch1viste @whoareyoi @angelsanarchy @blueberrypancakesworld @rocketqueen-world @lifelessvessel @doddernix @svgarcaine @amayalul @basementgrl222 @kristennero-wallacewellsver @iiheartsai @fan-goddess @shady-the-simp

Could you stomach it anymore

Could you stand to be a breath away

Can you feel the way your face distorts

Did you think that it could be this way

- Stomach It By Crywolf

Your upper lip twitched a little as your gaze darted right into your boyfriend's chestnut-coloured eyes. In a rather stark contrast to yours, Pelle's expression was indifferent whilst he stared back at you, face smeared with a now gray amalgamation of once black and white corpse paint.

"Sorry…" He muttered, his voice lacking the depth and sympathy to really sell his point.

"No…it's, it's okay, really. It makes no sense to pressure yourself when you're not in the mood, no." You shrugged your shoulders at him, very much meaning what you said whilst you still felt that massive rock of repeated disappointment settling down in your stomach.

"I'm gonna go grab another beer then…can I get you something?" Pelle shook his head lightly.

"No, but thanks. I think I should just go to sleep now." The Swede with the long blonde hair allowed himself to slump deeper down into the old, worn out sofa, crossing his arms in front of his chest and with that not just verbally but also physically blocking you out.

"Nighty then…" You mumbled, turning away from your boyfriend to hide just how hard you fought to keep your composure.

Neither the heavy leather jacket, the edgy metal studs and spikes all over nor your trusty Darkthrone shirt hugging your torso were able to shield you from the emotional hurt raging inside of you. It's been months since Pelle last touched or so much as kissed you on the mouth. You knew just fine that something wasn't alright with him, that he was going through an episode again and the last thing you intended on doing was putting any blame for that on him but fuck was it challenging you this time. It didn't go past you how the I love you's had become more and more scarce, how he turned his back to you at night whilst you stared at the ceiling hoping for the oncoming episode to wash over him in a few, swift weeks but his current black hole of depression was unlike anything before. You hardly recognised your boyfriend anymore and felt like nothing but an accessory to the whole band persona he'd put up to cover up how much he was actually hurting on the inside.

To not come off as a soft, little crybaby to everybody else, you stifled your breath and wiped the emerging gush of tears from your lower lash line as fast as you could before making your way out to the densely crowded yard again. Empty bottles of beer lined the way whilst partially smoked-up cigarettes laid scattered all over, the heavy smell of a raging bonfire filled the crisp night breeze. Whilst almost violently looking to the ground to avoid anybody seeing you being about to burst into tears, you rushed to one of the cooling boxes to grab a beer or preferably something stronger. A sense of recklessness washed through you as you dug a deeply green, still halfway full glass bottle from the cooler. Jägermeister would serve you just fine right now.

Armed with the strong booze, you went right back into the house, hiding yourself away from all the action to simply get drunk in peace and solitude.

"Ugh…" Your whole body quivered as the herbal liquor shot down your throat, drenching your mouth in its bitter taste.

Right after the sensation eased up a little, you chased the first swig with a second, deeper one, the alcohol burning its way through your stomach before you'd even reached the corner of the house that could be described as a guest room to slump down on an array of dusty mattresses. With the intense warmth of heavy liquor washing through your body, you curled yourself up, shoving an old pillow underneath your head and before you really realized it, vagrant, quiet tears trickled from the corners of your eyes, pooling at the tear duct to eventually swap over the bridge of your nose. If you were honest with yourself, you felt sick of it, sick of being ignored and pushed away but at the same time you just couldn't bring yourself to point the finger at Per. He simply didn't choose this way of being and feeling yet it felt like he wasn't even trying anymore…which, again, would just be another symptom. You sighed in defeat before treating yourself to another numbing mouthful of booze.

Allowing the tears to just run down your face at their very own pace, you simply wanted to get drunk as fast as possible but even that wouldn't be granted to you, a gentle knock on the slightly ajar door pulling you from your thoughts.

"Huh?" You muttered, sitting up straight again and wiping the wetness from your cheeks.

"Hey…are you okay?" The familiar voice belonging to Øystein asked.

His head peaked through the open door, a messy bunch of black hair framing his face in wavy strands.

"Saw you rushing through the yard and thought checking up on you wouldn't hurt…" He slid his lean statue through the small opening, stepping towards you before crouching down to meet your gaze.

"See? That's part of the problem…you, you care and Pelle just…he just sits there." The words blubbered out of you in an uncontrolled rush accompanied by a new surge of hot tears.

"Hey now…", Euronymous quickly sat down, tucking the frizzy hair behind his ears, "What's going on, hm?"

"I'm so sick of this shit, Øystein… I can't help him, I can't fix him and he just pushes me away time and time again. I'm so done with this bullshit." It practically gushed out of your mouth in a poorly choked-back wail.

"There's a whole horde of people out there, Euro, yet I feel so terribly fucking lonely all the time. Everybody's cheering for Mayhem and for Dead, going on about how fucking cool and true he is for what he's doing to himself on stage but you know what?", You tried to stifle your shaky breaths, "It's not cool. None of it. It's actually fucking terrifying…and it's me who's got to stitch him back to gether every damn time."

With every one of your words, Øystein's eyes widened a little more, partly in understanding about just how much his friend was dragging you through but also in plain sympathy for you.

"Come'ere, yeah? C'mon…if it helps you can squeeze me as hard as you want to, okay?" Euronymous spread both his arms, inviting you in for a tight hug.

Not wasting a second thought on it, you leaned in, wrapping your shaking hands around his shoulders to squeeze and press as tightly as you could.

"There you go…that's it, right there." Euronymous encouraged you, the palms of his broad hands resting at the back of your head to soothe you with gentle pets and strokes.

"I wish I could help you but none of us really gets through to him anymore…I'm so sorry." Øystein sighed into the curve of your neck, the tip of his nose almost touching the cold, black leather of your jacket.

"I don't even know what's going on with him anymore. Everything is just so terribly wrong and I don't know how much longer I can do this shit, Euro, I really don't." You sniffled, inevitably having the vastly different scent of Euronymous right in front of you sneaking up into your nostrils.

Unlike Pelle, he smelled like stale cigarette smoke, cheap aftershave and beer…maybe not exactly a crowd pleaser but you found comfort in it.

"It's okay. I don't judge you." He whispered to you in a soft tone and it threatened to break you apart from the inside.

"Thank you…", You croaked into his hair, your voice getting weaker with every letter, "I feel so shitty for thinking about it like that but…but I'm so goddamn tired. I-...I just wanna feel loved again."

"To remind you…there's a whole horde of people out there who love you." He tried to cheer you up but ultimately missed the point.

"Not…not like that. Ugh, I sound stupid…" You felt the need to take the words straight back and to just go with Øystein's attempt of calming you.

"No, you don't, seriously.", Euronymous led his fingers to get lost in your hair, fingertips softly stroking across your scalp down to the nape of your neck, "I can't imagine how you came up with enough energy to stay this long in the first place. We both know it's not his fault, neither is it yours or mine but we've all been watching you breaking away because of him. You're not smiling anymore, not screaming your lungs out at the gigs, you're barely even here anymore…he's eating you up."

"I can't just leave, Øystein…" You gradually loosened your death grip around his torso to lean back, your face wet with slowly subsiding tears.

"I know…all I'm saying is that it might be time to think about yourself a little more. It won't help anybody if you get lost in his chaos, too." Before you could raise your own hand to wipe the sleeve of your jacket across your face, Euronymous was already on it, his thumb brushing over your cheek.

Whilst taking a deep breath to steady yourself a bit more, the two of you just stared at each other for a moment. You followed how he slightly grinded his teeth together, jaws clenching, withholding something you couldn't quite decipher.

"Øystein?" You furrowed your brows a little, the feeling of something being violently off ebbing through your chest.

"I'm sorry…" That's all he offered to you before cupping your face with the full length of his palm and leaning in to press an anything but timid kiss to your trembling lips.

A part of you, the voice of reason within, practically screamed at you to pull away, to scurry back and to let this go down as nothing but an awkward, boozy, little slip-up, but you didn't move by just an inch as the pungent taste of smoked cigarettes and cheap beer swept into your mouth alongside Euronymous' daring tongue. You simply let it happen, allowed him to slip his tongue into your mouth and intoxicate you with the dangerously addictive feeling of being wanted, desired by someone.

"Fuck…" You groaned into the nearly bruising kiss, hands reaching out to claw at his utterly worn out Venom shirt to pull him closer to you.

Catching the notion that he had dared to make the right move at the right time, Øystein's palm left your face, both hands roaming over your back down to your ass to simply scoop you into his lap, your legs wrapping themselves around the cold of his bullet-shell belt as the hem of your washed-out, gray denim skirt rode up generously over your fishnet-stocking covered thighs.

"I got you…just hold on to me." Euronymous muttered, trying to catch his breath a little whilst his fingers dug themselves into the curve of your behind, causing you to whine out as you arched your hips impossibly close towards his crotch.

The aching need to feel just something again practically pulsed through every nerve ending and every muscle, pulling you into his tight grasp and for your hands to slip under the soft fabric of his shirt, skin against skin leaving you to crave more. Whilst one of his hands left it's place cupping your ass to hurry down between your bodies, awkwardly fumbling with the buckle of his belt before almost violently pulling down the zipper, a short but heavy pang of guilt jolted through your ribcage, nearly causing you to flinch on the spot. Nothing about this situation at hand was right or somehow, in some crooked way, justifiable to you and yet you made not a single move to stop any of it from happening. You didn’t grasp for Øystein's hand as it hushed from his unzipped pants amidst your legs, the sound of your tights tearing and ripping thundering in your ears, right before curious fingertips brushed over thin lace panties, no. The only reaction it pulled from your body was a needy moan.

"Right there, yeah?" You heard the smirk in his tone without even needing to see it.

Nodding softly, you placed your mouth back onto his, teeth teasingly grazing over his bottom lip.

"Bet that feels even better, babe." At first you didn't know what struck you harder, the endearing pet name or Euronymous' fingers snaking past your slip, dipping right into your soaked folds to draw achingly slow circles around your entrance.

"Please…" You hummed into the kiss, your forehead leaning against his.

"Please, what?", He inquired, fingertips prodding and nudging against your cunt, "Want me to fill you up, no? Such a greedy little thing."

You choked back a whine as Øystein withdrew his hand from your slip to shove the fabric to the side, fingers freeing his rock-hard cock from the confines of his shorts right before thrusting into you with a precise rock of his hips against yours.

"Oh, fuck…" Your moan got lost in his mouth, the delicious feeling of being stretched out so harshly rippling through you.

"How long has it been, huh?" He pushed, drilling himself into you until it threatened to hurt.

"I dunno…four months, maybe five." You couldn't stop your eyes from fluttering shut, the burning heat of arousal and shame creeping into your face in equal parts.

"Yeesh, couldn't leave a girl like you untouched for that long." Euronymous huffed, his other hand steadying your posture with his palm flat against your back as he started rolling his hips, practically bouncing you on his cock.

With your entire body flush with the sensation of Øystein spearheading into you in a firm pace, the last bit of your coherent brain busy muffling and holding back desperate mewls and whimpers, you rendered completely oblivious to what was happening around you…unlike the black-haired guitarist. From the very corner of his eyes, Øystein's attention got pulled towards the semi-open door, the old, wooden floor in front of it creaking treacherously. Just by the way a well familiar pair of thoroughly worn out combat boots barely peaked across the lines of the door frame, he knew that the both of you had been caught right in the act but he didn't so much as even bother to stop from guiding you up and down his throbbing hard on.

"You at least got yourself off here and there, no?" You shook your head.

"Didn't feel right. I- I just hoped things would get back to normal…" You groaned, the sensation of Euronymous' cock stroking over that extra sensitive spot inside of you sending cold, little shivers down your spine.

"Oh, love, then I better make sure to give it to you better than Per ever could…lazy fucker." Øystein scoffed more to his friend and singer hiding next to the door frame than to you but you didn't take any notice of that, your senses way too busy with just keeping it together.

For a moment, Øystein felt actual and very real rage gushing through him. Anger towards his friend for being such an oblivious prick regarding the suffering and all-round neglect he was dragging you through. It was a terribly self-righteous emotion, that he knew for sure, however, he couldn't help himself but to let it fuel the way he rutted into you, burying himself as deep as possible inside of your wet pussy.

The rather morbid thing both of you failed to take notice of was what Dead was doing hidden away in the shadows of the hallway, the crushing humiliation not only going straight to his heart but to his awfully throbbing cock as well, the bitter-sweet masochistic rush leading him to palm himself through his trousers whilst biting down on his fist to not let just one singular sound escape from his twitching lips. The Swede was shamelessly jerking himself off to you getting railed by his closest friend.

"Gonna take good care of you, babe." Øystein groaned in a lust-riddled tone, both of his hands now closing down around your hips to hammer your form onto his cock with every jut and snap of his hips.

It had you bashfully nuzzling your face into the crook of his neck, the cigarette smoke soaked leather of his jacked cold against your cheek, whilst you still clawed at his sides underneath his shirt.

Your fingers dug into his skin as you felt your walls starting to flutter and contract around Øystein's hard on, the first crushing jolts of your pent-up orgasm rippling through your body, senses being sent into blissful overdrive.

"Good girl…fuck, pulling me in so hard now, huh?" Euronymous' voice cracked and eventually faltered just like the rolls of his lap against yours.

"Issok…", He talked you through your release, shoving himself balls deep into your spasming cunt before flooding your insides with white-hot ropes of his seed, a guttural groan ripping itself free from the depths of his lungs, "Just let yourself go. I gotchu."

The earth-shattering sensation of all the pent-up sexual desperation mixed in with shame and crushing guilt washing through your system had you biting down on his leather-clad shoulder, a fresh surge of tears threatening to swap over your lower lash line at any second.

"Aw, shit." A sore croak from outside the room led both of you to turn your heads so suddenly that it nearly gave you whiplash.

"The fuck?!" You shrieked out, practically jumping from Øystein's lap whilst he was equally busy with tucking himself back in and getting off the mattress.

"I got this!" Euronymous tried to calm you, awkwardly stumbling away from you before tearing the door open and vanishing into the dark hallway.

For a split second your overworked synapses tried to get a vague grasp on what was going down. Feet were hammering down stairs, noisy commotion erupted from inside the house before the sound of shattering glass and incomprehensible screaming and shouting filled the yard.

"Oh fuck no…" You huffed under your breath, wobbly legs nearly giving out as you tried to pull yourself from the mattress.

As soon as you stood upright again, you felt Øystein's load oozing out of you, soaking the flimsy fabric of your slip with every step you took. You dreaded the scenario that was unfolding outside because the yelling didn't seem to die down but much rather escalate further.

"You fucking traitor!" Pelle's raspy voice cut through the night air, hitting you as soon as you slid out the front door.

"Fucking traitor?!", Øystein spat right back whilst your eyes scanned the scenery anxiously, "You're the spineless loser, Per!"

"You fucked my girlfriend, Øystein!" Dead yelled and with his words you noticed Metallion and Jan Axel staring right at you, nothing but drunk confusion washing over their faces.

"And you pathetic fuck got off to it!" Euronymous had to duck down to dodge an empty beer bottle being sent his way.

"You what?!" You directed the question right at your boyfriend before you noticed a tell-tale damp and soaked-through spot right around his zipper.

"Yes, please tell her how you stood outside the room jerking off to your girl breaking down in front of me, Per!" Your bewildered stare rushed towards Øystein now.

"Huh? You…you saw him or what now?!?" The guitarist shrugged his shoulders and nodded.

"What the fuck is going on in here?" Jan Axel tried to intervene but both Per and Øystein shushed him almost simultaneously.

"You shut the fuck up!" Pelle sneered, looking like he was about ready to throw one of the plenty empty bottles of beer after his drummer too.

"No.", You huffed, wrapping your leather jacket around your torso to shield you from the creeping cold, "He actually got a point, because…what the hell?!"

"Pumpkin, I can explain, I promise." Per raised his hands in a soothing manner but you didn't feel like having any of it.

"Don't you dare sweet-talk me now, Pelle! You've been pushing me away for months but…you get off to, well, this?" You indirectly confirmed all that had been happening between Øystein and you.

"No. Just no. You know what? Fuck you. Fuck this shit. I'm not even remotely drunk enough to deal with this shitshow right now." To undoubtedly cement your point, you took a few swift steps toward Øystein who was looking at you with wide eyes as you fished for the pack of cigarettes in his pocket, drawing one for yourself before deliberately putting it to your lips.

"Yes, I fucked Øystein.", You threw your hands into the air after lighting the cigarette, "Maybe I should've done that much sooner, who knows?"

The last sentence was solely aimed to hurt Per as much as he had hurt you.

"Fucking hell, I'm so sick of all this dysfunctional shit…", You just shook your head before heading back inside, "Better none of you disrupt the date I have with a piss-warm bottle of Jägermeister now or you fucking bet I'll cut your dick off!"

[wttcsms]

wttcsms wags blind bag, one shot collection ;

about poking fun at blind items & wanting to explore wag culture (and also looking for any reason to write about hot anime athletes), this fic collection's theme is inspired by/based off of... well, blind items about wags!

you're what i wanna love on, shugo meian

at the height of peak stardom, you're not just japan's pop princess — you're everyone's. with it comes controversy; your infamously short dresses, the late night parties you attend after every concert, your outrageously expensive concert tickets and merch, your racy performances that have concerned mothers going on social media saying you're a bad influence. adding to your list of typical pop star transgressions, you also have a hot, successful, wildly successful and just barely controversially older boyfriend!

but it would've been fun (if you could've been the one), tooru oikawa

from high school rivals to long-distance college sweethearts to perhaps the couple that got eloped way too early, it's no surprise that you and oikawa end up divorcing soon after getting married. while in your case it seems like love might be a losing game, you and oikawa both only play to win. when the olympics brings you two together once more, there's a good chance you two can reconcile and get your relationship back and better than it was before — or, go down with this sinking ship. with either outcome, at least you two are doing it together.

something to lose, shoyo hinata

heartbroken, jaded, and convinced that all men are garbage, you don't plan on anything happening when you're invited to an after party for a profession volleyball team in order to boost said team's publicity. you don't plan on making any friends or meaningful connections, and you certainly don't plan on getting the number of one of their star player's, shoyo hinata. then again, a lot of things don't go as planned when he's involved, and you don't expect yourself to be happy about these turns of event, but for once you are; happy, that is. and it's all his fault.

easy like sunday morning, wakatoshi ushijima

wakatoshi ushijima is notorious for his devotion to two things: volleyball and his family. during his post-game interview where he's been away from home for nearly two months, interviewers are asking him if he's excited to attend the rowdy after party to celebrate. ushijima's answer? he's taking a flight directly after this interview to head back home. he plans on celebrating the only way he knows how to: by finally being able to tuck in his sweet kids to bed, and then show his beloved wife how much he's missed her.

it's the same damn thing that made my heart surrender, koutarou bokuto

before he gets scouted by the msby black jackals and becomes one of japan's most famous athletes of all time, he's a struggling athlete trying his hardest to get a contract. during the off-season for recruiting, he decides to make some extra cash by using his looks and charms to become a contestant on a reality dating show, where he meets you: beautiful, intelligent, ambitious you, who is so clearly out of the league for anyone. you adore him, and you two have the strongest connection out of everyone on the show, so when he ends up picking someone who's not you, you're shocked. you don't know that he thinks he's doing you a favor because he believes he'll only ever hold you back. when the show invites you two for a reunion episode special, bokuto can only hope your feelings haven't changed.

burn out season, michael kaiser

what do you do when suffer a potential career-ending injury? hopefully not get diagnosed with depression, find out that because you devoted your whole life to your sport, you now have no sense of what to do without it, and then realize the only person who really Gets You is the only person who can irritate you like no one else does. hopefully you don't start to spend your newfound free time with him, and hopefully, you don't start to experience all the fun firsts in your life because of him and with him. or, maybe hopefully you do.

life could be a dream, yoichi isagi

getting together was no easy feat, and yoichi wants to show you how happy he is that you're his. he showers you with presents, shows you off at any given chance, always has a hand on the small of your back or around your waist. his possessive streak only grows when he finally slips that expensive engagement ring on your finger, and he shows you just how good married life is going to be for you.

i was supposed to sweat you out, michael beckenbauer

michael beckenbauer doesn't give a shit about japan, or the other subpar racers who have the nerve to get behind the wheel of the cars just to lose by a wide margin to him, or about how he's perceived by the media. he just wants to finish out this season, return home, and maybe find some worthy competition. he doesn't care if it's your job to try to brighten up his image; he never asked for a publicist, and in typical michael fashion, he's going to go out of his way to get you to quit. he has a bad tendency to underestimate his opponents, though, and off the track, you just might be his worthiest competition yet.

[everythingne]

hey yall :D!

i've just moved back into my dorm for classes today but i don't start any actual work for a while. im gonna be a bit slower now with work and such but I wanted to let y'all know of some upcoming fics to expect :)! please let me know if any specific ones interest you as i am in a bit of a slump and any encouragement seriously helps <3

-

growing pains - dr3

(3+1) three times the girls pain makes you and daniel realize they're not always going to be your little ones. (a first period, a first breakup, and moving out) and one time, the girls come back to show all the lessons you've taught them, and that no matter their age they'll always be your little girls.

mrs mclaren - ln4

the winner of the mini series vote for my 300 follower special was lando, friends to lovers/mutual pining, angst/whatever. so born from that is y/n mclaren, the granddaughter of bruce mclaren, who may just have a huge crush on her driver and somehow literally everyone but lando knows.

wasted summers - op81

to try and solve your huge two decades old crush on your childhood best friend, you attempt to capture his love over the short summer break, with the help of F1 twitter and other racers. it goes about how you would expect.

gripped - ln4

Roxanne Powell's quick thinking on a film set saves Lando from serious injury, the moment making an unlikely connection between one of the top Formula One drivers who takes all the fame and glory for his team, and a girl whose work is hardly credited to herself. it takes seeing the other side to open your eyes.

more below (max n logan)

the one with the wedding - mv1

max grapples with the fact he's getting married on his wedding day. slightly inspired by friends and real weddings i've attended. luckily charles and daniel are there to ease his fears, and you end up having a picture perfect monaco wedding.

akin to a pride verse - 'i truly am my fathers child' - mv1

when brought to tears by ruthless bullying by reporters, reina snaps and hits a reporter out of fear, but the media claims its anger. with no other option, hana flies max to london help her daughter out of a depressive episode caused by reina realizing she's more like her father than she ever wants to be. its a conversation that makes max think back on his actions too.

drunk walk home verse - 'stalkers tango' - mv1

isaiah doesn't go away, not after max nearly shatters his nose. late night phone calls, text messages, and dms lead to a break in that terrifies you and the f1 world. luckily, you're away for the break in, but its not safe for you to return alone. don't worry though, max enlists the help of a few drivers to move all your stuff to his while you 'hunt for apartments.'

wing damage ch 2 - mv1

nadine struggles to accept the fact that she's single and alone in her now too big yet claustrophobic apartment. luckily for her, max is only a phone call away. and a few too many drinks lead to what is probably the stupidest decision for two newly single people who are hurting in their own rights.

meet cute, stay cute - ls2

logan keeps having meet-cutes with you throughout london, noticing the same thing each time, a book tucked under your arm. when you move in next door, he capitalizes on the opportunity to make this meet cute permanent by buying you romance books he's recommended by friends and twitter as a means of flirting.

out of the woods ch3 - ls2

dhanishka struggles to accept the fact that even her best performances can be deemed unfit, and the actions of herself when shes drunk. logan struggles to accept he may have cut things off early. charles needs more wine to deal with this.

go fins! - ls2

logan is only following one miami dolphins cheerleader, you. and you don't think its a big deal until he comes to visit to get an honorary helmet for the miami gp, and they have you give it to him. the clips circle for weeks, begging to know if you're dating the driver, and sometimes its more fun to make a rumor be true than to shut it down.

[imaginesinthewind]

Dating Sirius Black would include

A/N: The part 2 to this one. I have no excuses for taking so long to write it, except that my inspiration is as changing as Tonks haircut. Enjoy 🖤

- Let's be honest here, it would be a rollercoaster. Sirius was never taught how to love, not until he met the Marauders or the Potters at least

- And you cannot really call dating as many girls as possible before dumping them because they get too attached love

- However, with you, he would be surprisingly committed. When he loves, this boy loves with his entire soul

- Lots of PDA, or what James would call "disgusting couple things"

- (mainly because Lily keeps refusing him)

- Sirius would proudly wrap his arm around your waist or your shoulders everywhere. You would secretly hold hands in class, or he would wink at you and blow kisses across the room

- He would pay attention even less, much to the annoyance of McGonagall

- Instead, he would send you flying love notes or stare lovingly into your eyes

- "Black, you will not find the answer to my question in Miss (Y/L/N) eyes."

"Are you sure?"

- So.much.making.out

- Soft kisses, intense kisses, longing kisses, goofy kisses

- "You guys, I'm trying to eat here"

"Time to go to class, make out later"

- Sirius would be the best at finding amazing dates. He is definitely a late night date type of person

- Stargazing at the astronomy tower with cigarettes, stealing pastries from the kitchens, taking you for a motorcycle ride, showing you the most secret pathways in Hogwarts, or making him discover Muggle music like the Beatles or the Stones and he loves it

- Endless night talks about life in front of the fireplace

- Sneaking into his bed so many times than the other Marauders become used to it

- This boy craves for your attention. If he loses it, he will act like a lost puppy

- Trying to get him to study more with you but failing

- Sirius ending up distracting you from studying at the library by telling you dirty jokes, causing you to eventually burst out laughing. And get kicked out

- Life would be an adventure with him, and dating him is such a freeing experience, the boy would love you intensely

- However, Sirius' insecurities would come back real quick

- He would be so scared to lose you and would get jealous very quickly

- A lot of self sabotaging and "I'm not worthy of you" from his part

- Sirius doesn't open up easily, he hides his vulnerability and wounds behind a strong ego and easygoing, smug attitude. But if you are patient and soft enough with him, he will eventually

- Hair and scalp massages to calm him down and soothe him

- Secretly wiping tears and comforting embraces

- Depressive episodes when Regulus becomes a death eater

- Regular outbursts of anger because of his mother

- Being the first one to know when he runs away at the Potters

- You are a bit worried at first, but Sirius takes it surprisingly well. He says that he doesn't need them, he has you and his friends

- Always being this mix between a gentleman and a cocky, dirty talker type of person

- Whispering the dirtiest things possible in your ear everywhere, this boy has no filter

- Him trying to convince you to get your first tattoo

- Accompanying him when he gets another one

- Lots of "please get a room"

- A lot of sex (but I'll give more details on a potential part 3 maybe?)

- Eventually getting caught in an empty classroom and McGonagall awkwardly giving you the talk in her office

- Very awkward moment, and Sirius cannot stop showing the smugiest face

- Being the Hogwarts couple goal

- Sirius meeting your parents at the end of 6th year, and to say that he would be nervous is an understatement

- But his natural charisma and """"good education"""" would do the work for him and your parents would love him, also because they would see these special sparkles in both of your eyes when you look at each other

- Doing everything in your power to make Jilly happen

- Being very happy when it does

- Moving in together when class is over 🖤

(I know this isn't supposed to be a happy ending but one is allowed to dream)

[earthry]

Papas and Arranged Marriage (Regency AU Headcanons)

sfw mostly, mild reference to sex but nothing descriptive. reader x papas, arranged marriage, hurt/comfort, fluff, angst, tw: talk of weight loss from depressive episode. inspired by pride and prejudice for the most part.

Primo

The Emeritus family boasts wealth and status, and though your parents offered your hand, the chances of the proposal being accepted were very slim. The Emeritus brothers were always receiving and rejecting proposals, after all.

Primo never married because he never fell in love, but he ends up accepting your proposal due to the fact that he’s not getting any younger and he would at the very least like to have someone by his side for the last decade of his life.

You were a little dismayed by the fact that Primo was much older than you, but from the first moment you meet, he’s a gentleman. Courts you properly despite the marriage being arranged. You’ve more than a little charmed by his modesty and humor.

You leave that first meeting feeling butterflies in your chest you never thought you’d experience.

Spends a lot of time with you so that you can learn more about each other and choose the best flowers from his garden to gift you every time you see each other.

Always takes your hand in his and presses a gentle kiss to it.

The fact that he’s older actually gives him a edge, he’s very well versed in the art of seduction (in other words, the slow courting to bringing you to his bed, it’s all a very sensual and pleasurable process).

He ends up falling half in love with you by the end of the first month of meeting you and on your wedding night, he confesses his love wholeheartedly as he holds you in his arms.

Enjoys spending sunrises in his garden with you snuggled in his lap as you share stories and conversation over tea.

Secondo

Bitter old man who breaks your heart from day one and regrets it as he slowly gets to know more about you.

At first viewed the marriage as purely transactional and told you he would be a good husband but never fall in love with you so don’t have any expectations.

The wedding itself was lavish and a huge party  because it’s Secondo (who had a lively night), but for you, you were very lonely. You were the first to retire to your rooms.

He’s attentive to your needs but emotionally distant and you resign yourself to your loveless marriage. Though you sleep in the same bed, he never touches you. You assume one day— probably soon, he’ll probably find a mistress and the thought makes your heart ache.

As you live together he begins to learn more about you; especially as you get more comfortable around him. The first time you snap back at him he’s taken aback but also impressed.

Your confidence only grows from there and he learns how headstrong and witty you are.

One night as he’s staying up late to work to figure out a hard situation, you make an off handed comment about something that catches his attention; it ends up solving the issue he was struggling with and since then, he’s gone to you for advice more than a handful of times.

Secondo finds himself drawn to you more and more and one day, you wake up with your arms wrapped around him like a koala. He’s staring right at you and you immediately apologize, letting him go and untangling yourself, but he stops you. He says it’s okay and he doesn’t mind.

You agonize about this all day, and end up crying to him and telling him not to get your hopes up— this breaks his heart because he didn’t expect to fall in love with you but he has and his previous words at the start of your marriage haunts him.

He comforts you and takes you in his arms and promises that he’s serious and that he was a fool.

You share a kiss— a real kiss, tender and sweet and full of emotion. You end up crying again, but this time with happiness but it alarms Secondo all the same. You end up laughing through your tears and telling him he’s an idiot and he pouts but woefully agrees you might be right.

Redoes your wedding night, ravishing you and treating you the way he should have that fateful night. He kisses apologies against your skin, intertwining your fingers together as he makes love to you. He makes a vow right then and there that he will always do his best to make you the happiest wife ever. He tells you he will be a good husband and he will love you for the rest of your lives together and even after.

Terzo

Didn’t really agree to the proposal but Papa Nihil and Sister Imperator threatened his inheritance if he didn’t accept. The marriage was mostly to keep him in check because of his behavior and constant partying and troublemaking.

Actually pouted when you told him that you wouldn’t sleep with him until your wedding night. The few times he tried to tempt you before time, you gave him a run for his money, leaving him horny, strangely still aroused, and confused.

After he realizes that you won’t be just another one of his conquests and that you’re serious about this engagement; serious about this marriage, he become a little more mature about the whole thing. Which is a good thing because you’re about this close from calling the whole thing off.

Tries to court you properly; the first time he does so, sending you a proper letter and having flowers and gifts delivered to you, you are suspicious. 

You interrogate the poor man the next time you meet in person and he apologizes for his previous behavior; you’ve caught his intrigue and he wants to make things work between the two of you.

Begrudgingly, you accept his apology and tell him that he’s on thin ice.

From there, he’s on his best behavior which stuns and surprises most people including Papa Nihil and Sister Imperator (”Maybe this was a good idea, after all.)

On your wedding night, you expect Terzo to jump your bones immediately but at this point he sees you for so much more than just another body; he’s already half in love with you and takes you to bed slowly, taking care to go at a comfortable speed and to be attentive to your needs. He’s a good lover, after all, and he’s eager to prove it to you.

In the morning, you wake in his arms with him gazing at you with affection. He kisses you good morning and tells you that he’s a very lucky man. He admits he’s falling in love with you and you tell him he’s cheesy-- he blushes and flusters and is about to protest when you catch his lips in a kiss and tell him ‘me too’. 

Copia

The youngest of the Emeritus Brothers, and your childhood best friend. The two of you would get into all sorts of trouble as kids and you were often scolded by your parents for playing with him. Despite his high standing as a Emeritus, they thought he was much too strange and odd for you, their beloved only daughter.

You would always disobey their orders to stay away from him, and when the two of you were of age, social balls and parties were spent at each other’s side; gossiping and giggling about others and sneaking out to the garden for a more quieter atmosphere where he could let his rat out of his pocket.

When he first received the news that he was to be married, he was heartbroken. He’d always imagined it to be you by his side— but your parents always refused any request of his to court you.

The news of him being engaged hit you hard. You locked yourself in your room to cry and refused to come out for days. When you finally came out of your room, your parents scolded you and told you to move on. You were of age after all, and would soon be married off as well.

You were out with a chaperon one day when you passed by Copia with his fiancé, escorting her to a beautiful restaurant. Your favorite restaurant, actually. When you return home, you lock yourself in your rooms again and refuse to eat.

You’re so miserable that your health begins to suffer and you fall very ill— this alarms your parents who despite their strictness, love you very much. They call many doctors to see you, but none are able to help.

Word of your health reaches Copia who visits you immediately; he’s still very much in love with you. Your parents reluctantly let him visit, mostly due to your pleading.

You cry as soon as you see him, and he rushes to your side and takes you into his arms. He’s alarmed by how much weight you’ve lost, how pale and sickly you look. He comforts you, tells you he loves you. Reassures you he will always be there for you. You’re too tired to do much except for nodding and sniffling against his shoulder. Eventually you fall asleep and he carefully untangles the two of you to speak with your parents.

After a long and excruciating talk, he gets your parents to agree to let him court you— he cancels his current engagement despite the backlash, and the next time you wake he’s by your bedside with a bouquet of roses.

Your recover little by little after that, and on your wedding day you both cry during your vows. In the morning, you wake in his arms to him snoring at your back and you couldn’t be happier.

[jasntodds]

COMPLETED - May 26, 2023

Summary:

Pairing: Gar Logan x Fem!Powered!Reader, Jason Todd x Fem!Powered!Reader

Summary: ❝Tell me Atlas: What is heavier, The world or its people's hearts?❞

You never expected your life to end up this way, turned upside down by an infamous Gotham villain. It's been a living hell, every single day, until Dick Grayson brings you to Titans tower where you meet Gar Logan and Jason Todd.

Warnings: Angst, Fluff, mentions of being tortured, mentions of being held captive, mentions of abuse, violence (not anything more graphic than what’s in the show), canon violence, mentions of death, various injuries (nothing in great detail), bruises, blood, lots of angst and smartass teenagers, hurt/comfort, some anxiety, ptsd, hints of depression (canon), mentions of Batman villains being Batman villains, nightmares, some paranoia, discussions about previous homelessness, drug mentions, canon character death(s)? (if you know, you know), dick is very exhausted from dealing with teenagers who never listen to him, Titans timelines making 0 sense so I’m fixing it, season 2 (this book) takes place in 2019 and season 2 also takes place over a few months instead of like a week, little bit of a love triangle but there’s no drama about it (it wasn't supposed to be but the series is writing itself and i'm along for the ride), season 2 Titans spoilers

A/N: Titans made me think about all the angst I could do and I decided I should write it. This takes place through season 2 (first few chapters are between episode 1 and episode 2). Trust me, the Gar x reader and Jason x reader, will make sense. I have a plan. This is the most thought-out fic I have literally ever done. I have it planned all the way through season 3 lol

tag list | playlist | full masterlist

↳ status: COMPLETED - May 26, 2023

Chapters:

Chapter 1 - Titans Tower Chapter 2 - Fossilized Memories Chapter 3 - Show Me Yours, I’ll Show You Mine Chapter 4 - Nightmare Chapter 5 - Late Nights In The Sparring Room Chapter 6 - Batsons Chapter 7 -If It’s Too Much To Carry Chapter 8 - the Morning After Chapter 9 - Rose Chapter 10  - Ghosts Chapter 11 - Deathstroke Chapter 12 - Put It On Me Chapter 13 - Shared Trauma Chapter 14 - Bruce Wayne Chapter 15 - Atonement  Chapter 16 - Fallen/E.L._.O Chapter 17  - Nightwing

Book 2 Masterlist

Fic Inspired Works:

Gar Logan moodboard Jason Todd moodboard Playlist Post

OC Versions

AO3 Wattpad FFN

[kmfoxtail546]

100 Years Coming

A Lucifer Morningstar x Trans!Male Reader by. KM-Foxtail-546

Chapter Summary: It's your first day at the Hazbin Hotel after being brought in as the receptionist by Alastor as a cover for helping with his wounds. You're exploring the hotel to get to know the layout after Alastor only showed you half of the layout. You're to the opposite of Alastor's Radio Tower when you find an intricately carved door decorated with snakes and apples. And are those... Ducks?

No use of Y/N

You can also read it on my Ao3!

Warnings: Hurt/Comfort, Minors Do Not Interact, Lucifer Trauma, Mentions of Depression, Depressive Episodes, Comforting depressive episodes, mentions/descriptions of trauma, mentions/descriptions of emotional abuse, Lilith is mentioned, relationship trauma, trans reader, male reader, male x male romance, cuddling I guess? Lol it's hardly anything compared to what's to come. Unedited

Word Count:1,908 words this chapter

Author's Note: Special thanks to @dragongeeks for Roleplaying with me in the first place and giving me the inspiration to finally write my first fic. Extra note at the end.

Chapter 1: A Door of Snakes and... Ducks?

You sighed slightly as you wrapped up putting your new room together at the hotel. Having already helped Alastor with his bandaging for the night you thought about what you should do. It was relatively late but you were still wide awake, mins buzzing with energy after moving yet again for the 5th time in just 4 months. It was getting tiring but at least this time it was by choice and not by those pricks who keep following and harassing you wherever you settled.

Deciding to step out of your room you adjust your vest and start wandering the halls. Alastor had only shown you half of the layout of the hotel. Seemingly having drawn an invisible line halfway across like some child. Thinking on it for a moment you head towards the areas you hadn't been to familiarize yourself with the rest of the layout. You'd have to know it for your new job as the Hotel's receptionist anyway considering you'd have to show new guests to their rooms.

The energy seems to shift as you cross that invisible threshold that Alastor had seemed to make, shivering slightly as his very essence that had drenched that half of the hotel left you. You pause for a moment before venturing forward, determined on your mission. Most of your exploration is uneventful and it seems to be an exact copy of what you'd been shown.

As you're wrapping up with the uppermost floor of the hotel you come across an intricately carved door. It was stunning with by far some of the finest craftsmanship you'd seen in either life or death. It was decorated with detailed imagery of Snakes and Apples, hints of Eden hidden among an overall circus theme but then you notice something, Is that... Are those DUCKS? Like all over the door there are little rubber ducks hidden among almost every detail.

You snort slightly as that finally seems to tip the edge of your curiosity. You're about to just open the door before you think better of it. Knocking firmly as to make sure you didn't walk in on anyone. There's a yelp and shuffling behind the door along with the muffled crash of what sounded like a squeaky pile. After a couple moments someone seems to rush up to the door and open it. You go speechless, awe-struck as you find yourself face to face with none other than Lucifer Morningstar himself. The Sin of Pride and King of Hell.

Lucifer looks disheveled as if he'd just been interrupted from something. His desk was a mess with several discarded Rubber Ducks. You finally snap out of it when he asks what he can do for you and you sweep yourself into a full bow, suddenly feeling panicked. "I'm so sorry Your Majesty! I didn't mean to interrupt you or anything. I'll leave if you need me to."

Lucifer's eyes widened as he suddenly spoke very quickly. "NO! No no no. It's uh. It's okay. You don't have to leave at all, I wasn't. I wasn't really doing anything at all. And please l, just call me Lucifer." He smiled awkwardly at you and cleared his throat. "A-anyway you don't have to bow like that for me. At least not here at the Hotel. While I'm here I am very simply Charlie's Dad."

You reluctantly stand back up like normal before gasping as you notice the piles upon piles of ducks in the room behind him. Forgetting to think you rush past him inside of the room, stopping to look at each individual rubber duckie. Taking great interest in his collection. "Wow! I've never seen this many unique rubber ducks. I think at all even, let alone all in one place. Do you collect them? Or do you somehow make these yourself?"

Lucifer looked confused at how you took such interest in his ducks. Anyone else he'd run into who saw them(except Charlie obviously) had made fun of them. So he certainly hadn't expected you to observe them so intently. Feeling suspicious he asked "I mean I make them myself. But why do you want to know?"

You could feel his suspicions at the back of your neck, raising your hands in surrender. "I promise I mean nothing bad in it! I actually really like rubber ducks and ducks in general. And all of these are so unique and amazingly creative and well made! I'm honestly really impressed. I don't think I could ever make something like; well to be honest ANY of these."

Lucifer's suspicions faded at your heartfelt response, before utter confusion set in. "You don't. You don't think that they're stupid or childish? I mean it's such a stupid hobby honestly and-"

You turned around and interrupted him the instant he started to speak like that. "What?! God no I LOVE rubber ducks. I mean they're not the most important thing to me but I find them super adorable. And once again I find it really impressive that you can make things like this."

Picking up a duck with a ringleader get up and a baton, you laughed as it waved it's baton and spit confetti out it's mouth. "See? Stuff like this is absolutely amazing. The fact that you can make such amazing things. Isn't that enough to keep doing it?"

You grabbed his hand and put the ringleader duck in it. Closing his hand around it and holding it like that. Smiling gently as you did so. Lucifer stared at where your hands met, before a tear streamed down his face.

He'd been in a depressive episode over these ducks, as well as several other things before you knocked on his door. And now here you were, telling him about how impressive and amazing his ducks really were. He'd expected the typical harsh words everyone else gave him over them, not words of encouragement.

Upon seeing his tears you immediately panicked and rapidly pulled your hands away from his as it re-clicked in your mind just who you were talking to. And you'd just made him cry without even knowing whether you did. "Oh no! I'm so sorry. I. I don't know what I did, I didn't want to make you cry!"

Lucifer tried to catch his breath. "No. No you didn't do anything wrong. This is all me okay? I. I really shouldn't be reacting like this, especially in company. I just. Give me a moment." He was fidgeting with his wedding band again and something seemed to click in your mind.

"You know. Special interests like this are really interesting. I mean I have an odd collection or two. I even keep a collection of certain Hell Times magazines for inspiration with my designs. I really admire the fabric work displayed in them." You pulled him into a tight hug, feeling terrified that you were severely overstepping your boundaries but also having a good feeling that he needed this.

At that simple gesture Lucifer broke down, hugging you back tightly and sobbing into your shoulder as he tried to process your words. You felt startled but carefully lowered the two of you down into a duck bean bag chair on the ground. Holding him as you rubbed his back. Simply sitting there with him speaking comforts to him as he broke down.

Lucifer barely managed to speak after SEVERAL moments, doing so quietly. "Sorry, I haven't had anyone say such things to me since. I don't know since I was just a kid? That was a LONG time ago." That made you confused. "Really? I mean you'd think that Lilith would have said such things to you at least once over all those years. I mean you two have been married since humanity was first even a thing." Lucifer shook his head. "No, I mean most of the things you just said are essentially the opposite. Lilith as well as anyone else always told me that I shouldn't ever focus on these stupid ducks. That they're a waste of time among several other hobbies. I mean if I wasn't doing my duties I'd essentially get yelled at."

You felt concerned. "Lucifer. That's hardly anything but normal. That's actually REALLY bad. Nobody should've been treating you like that. Hobbies like this are important for your mental health. Especially when it comes to eternity."

He teared back up again and simply hugged you as he sobbed all over again. Feeling horrible for breaking down like this, especially someone he'd JUST met and didn't even know the name of. He eventually started to settle down again but this time it was more out of exhaustion than anything else as he yawned.

You smiled at him gently and picked him up, carrying him over to his bed and setting him down. Standing next to him. He didn't raise any complaints, complying with your actions. He did after all feel more than just a little bit exhausted. He was about to conk out as you started walk away. But he grabbed your wrist gently. "... Please don't go. I don't. I don't think I could stand to be alone in my bed right now. I know you already did a lot for me. But I don't think I can sleep without you here right now."

You smirked teasingly. "My my Mr. Morningstar. Are you asking me to bed with you? You haven't so much as asked my name." His eyes went wide in panic as he fumbled over his words, trying to explain that that wasn't what he was insinuating at all. Before blushing as he heard you laugh.

Lucifer huffed slightly. "You're just messing with me! But in all seriousness please? And I suppose I should also ask you what your name is." You told him your name, introducing yourself properly and explaining you were hired on as the new front desk attendant.

You cleared your throat after introducing yourself. "But yeah of course.ni'd be happy to help you out here. If you'd just allow me to remove my vest and dress shirt that would make me a lot more comfortable to spend the night here." Lucifer flushed red and nodded before looking away.

The two of you chatted idly as you got yourself more comfortable before he finally looked back over at you as you settled into the bed next to him. His breath catching as he saw your top surgery scars, reaching towards them lightly before putting his hand back down. Deciding against asking about them. Noticing his interest and curiosity in them you answered a silent question. "Top surgery scars. I was biologically female upon arriving in Hell and had them cut off with Angelic Steele so they wouldn't come back after my first 10 years here."

Lucifer nodded in understanding. "Well, I'm glad that you're more comfortable like that. People are prettier when they're comfortable in their own skin." You flushed bright red and distracted the subject. "You were tired right? Why don't we get some sleep. It'll do you some good."

Lucifer blushed again as he made his next request. "Could. Could I hug you again? It felt nice." You smiled at him gently and pulled him up to you for a cuddling hug as you guys were laid down under his covers. He completely relaxed and fell asleep. You following suit not too long after. Besides, what could a couple of hours hurt anyway?

End of Chapter One

Author's Note: Okay! That was the end of my first chapter of 100 Years Coming. Please tell me what you thought of it in the comments!

@dragongeeks

[rikeijo]

Today’s translation #763

Spoon.2Di Toyonaga Toshiyuki's interview

Part 6.

-- But the story moves forward at a very good pace, so it's easy to watch, isn't it?

Toyonaga: That's exactly right! It's not bad at all, that we get so much information to absorb and it's really incredible how the construction of the story makes it so easy for the viewers to follow. Oh, and I really like that scene in episode 3., in which Yuuri visits Minako, late at night the day before Onsen on ICE, and starts practicing with her, because he wants to change the way he performs Eros. I think that it was most likely thanks to Victor that Yuuri, who tends to get depressed when he faces trouble, was able take action this time. It's very nice to be able to observe how Yuuri gets more positive, little by little, and it's all inspired by directly interacting with Victor.

-- Moving on, is there any other character that you like, or you would like to know more about, other than the character that you play?

Toyonaga: I like the Three Skating Nishigori Sisters and Yuuko is so cute - in general, all Hasetsu characters are so warm and lovable, and I love them all so much. And I also like Georgi Popovich, who's voiced by Hatano Wataru-san, a character that will appear later in the story (laugh). He still hasn't appeared in the main story, so I can't give you the details, but well, I simply love the aura that everything in this character exudes, so when he finally appears I want everyone to understand why I love the vibe of this character so much!

[phanfictioncatalogue]

Angst (8) Masterlist

part one, part two, part three, part four, part five, part six, part seven

a night to remember (ao3) - grievingwarwidow

Summary: roxie, who prefers the label exotic performer over stripper, is a star amongst people who are out when the sun goes down. who better for a close-minded phil who has despised what he labels as lowlifes to suddenly obsess over than Roxie himself?

aka the one where phil gets pathetically hung up on dan, better known as roxie and is desperate to get to know him better.

Aftermath (ao3) - firephan311

Summary: What happened during that week in March when Dan abruptly stopped taking his antidepressants.

Angelfish (ao3) - PyroStormIsBae

Summary: musings on phil’s anxiety, self image issues, and new hair + how dan loves him through it all.

(TW) Catch You on the Flipside (ao3) - Amorist (dead_on_the_inside)

Summary: Dan is holding himself together by the seams after running away from a religious cult. He has to ask himself why he keeps going, but deep down, he knows the answer already. It's the same answer it was long before his parents packed up and moved him to a thinly-veiled conversion camp in America—Phil.

Or, my excuse to write self-indulgent angst, because sometimes we need that.

Chips (ao3) - philsmeatylegss

Summary: Dan struggling with the concept that all healthy couples should fight.

Coffee by Chappell Roan (ao3) - danswideslit

Summary: someone on tumblr mentioned needing a dnp fic with the narrative from coffee and I felt inspired because I love that song a whole lot

Comfort in Chaos (ao3) - Anonymous

Summary: Phil wakes to Dan having a nightmare that he struggles to rouse him from. It later transpires that there is a reason behind his unsettled and panicked behaviour.

crushing grief (there is no remedy) (ao3) - shandril

Summary: When Phil comes to get the last of his things, Dan has one more chance to ask him to stay.

Deceit and Devotion (ao3) - Thatonefunhun

Summary: Phil Lester has it all. A successful career doing what he loves, a “bestie” who's always got his back, and a can-do attitude! He’s living the life! But what goes on beyond the camera? And is everything as it seems…

Falling for You (ao3) - Anonymous

Summary: Dan is at the front door waiting for Phil, eager to get outside so he can put his secret plan in motion when he hears a chilling thud of his partner colliding with the bathroom tiles.

First Love/Late Spring (ao3) - leewritesstuff

Summary: Dan and Phil are a ranch metaphor.

Dan and Phil are the moon and the ocean.

Dan and Phil are first loves.

Phil left in late spring.

frozen in time and space (ao3) - orphan_account

Summary: It’s 3:30 in the morning and Dan hasn’t been able to stop looking.

I Hardly Feel Anything At All (ao3) - BREAD2000yeet

Summary: Dan in a depressive episode spends his night at Phil's apartment to "do laundry" while there he finds what home truly means, some existential stuff, Phil is kinda unaware of depression (so is Dan in this fic, de-nial is a river in egypt) but he still cares

I know you, hands under my sweatshirt (ao3) - midorijpg

Summary: “How are you?”

It's with an undertone of fear that he dares ask that, as always, even if he knows that he’s lucky if Dan even decides to answer. And as he imagines, Dan just tilts his head, looking at him as if lost in thought, swinging the bottle with his hand before just resting it on the floor.

“Make room,” he just says.

“What?”

“I said, make room.”

or, something something about having bad days and growing up and realizing you don't (completely) fit in couches anymore.

I try to picture me without you but I can't (ao3) - solarpower21

Summary: After Dan's tragic death, Phil starts having a bunch of strange dreams where he is still alive. But are they really just dreams?

Or: Phil's soul consciousness can't cope with Dan's death, so he starts hopping between different universes, trying to look for him.

I’ll be the light that you can’t make (ao3) - MANIAvinyl

Summary: There was suddenly a tightness in Phil’s chest, put there by guilt and fear, and he couldn’t find the words to respond. The gravity of Dan’s depression was creeping up on him, like a realization he didn’t want to admit.

Or; Dan is depressed and Phil cant help but feel that the sickness in his best friend is a mystery to them both. Hurt/comfort and angst

It's either bathmat green or agony (ao3) - sunshine_and_storm_clouds

Summary: It was day 34 of Dan being gone on tour, and Phil had only left the house to see his parents or the occasional friend. The breeze from the fan brushed his chilled skin, and he shivered.

----

Phil really, REALLY misses Dan when he's away.

Peach and Lime (ao3) - orphan_account

Summary: Phil doesn't do relationships. And then he meets Dan. He still doesn't do relationships, but he has a fun angst-filled night.

(TW) Perfect (ao3) - Anonymous

Summary: Phil is going to make TATINOF perfect-whatever it takes to get there.

Proxy Requests (ao3) - philsmeatylegss

Summary: A story about poop and fear (unrelated)

Stir Fry (ao3) - ottertrashpalace

Summary: Dan never cooks unless he's feeling guilty. Phil waits.

The Anniversary (ao3) - Anonymous

Summary: It is fifteen years to the day since Dan's suicide attempt, and Phil endeavours to make the day as normal as possible.

The Beeping Penthouse (ao3) - gaydreaming

Summary: Set during the events of How Phil Nearly Died. Dan does his best to take care of Phil after their traumatic day, despite being terrified himself. As is to be expected, things dissolve into softness and silliness rather quickly, until they're both able to feel okay again.

the inherent romance of washing the sheets (ao3) - jonsaremembers

Summary: Laundry is a bit meditative when you know how to do it, Dan reflects as he sprays stain solution on the sheets.

to love somebody the way i love you (ao3) - howell_slide

Summary: Dan and Phil return home from the hospital, and Dan’s Going Through It emotionally.

trade all my tomorrows (ao3) - SylvesterLester

Summary: It's 2014, and Dan Howell is screwing up in life. Fresh off of potentially ruining his just-started acting career with a heavily-memed public freakout, he's ready to hide away for the rest of his life. Until a stranger reaches out, who might not be such a stranger after all.

when i walk in the kitchen, my heart hits the floor (ao3) - aura_sky

Summary: a phivorce fic

based on the Renee Rapp song (In the Kitchen)

or

Dan walks into the kitchen and he misses Phil.

wikihow to stop a divorce (ao3) - ivorycastle

Summary: ❝(...) but then suddenly one day you make a life change, and the flames feel no different..❞

You're Perfect To Me (ao3) - ticklishraspberries

Summary: Dan is feeling insecure about his body, and Phil can’t have that.

[shebeafancyflapjack]

Blind Love (Part 3)

Amazing artwork by @idiotwithanipad , who also inspired me to expand on this tale, thank you as always lovely. 🥰🥰

Robin & Original Characters.

As Rogh starts to regain his sanity, he prepares to say goodbye to his "baby" cub.

"One more try. C'mon." He encourages, watching the little creature lay on his knees; "Deep breath and then 'awoo'!"

The wolf cub poked its nose higher and emitted a slightly longer whine than normal, its miniscule paws padding against Rogh's skin as if trying to stand.

"Aww, so close. Me think she getting it." Rogh said to his companion.

Aelfwyn smiled, "She's definitely trying, bless her. But her lungs aren't going to grow any bigger, anymore than her legs will grow stronger or her eyes will open."

"Ha! No listen to silly Auntie Aelfwyn! We show her she big wrong!" He cooed to the cub, leaning in close to let her lick at his nose and beard. "Yes, you clever girl, you can do anything."

Watching the two of them never failed to melt Aelfwyn's heart. But then she'd always been considered rather soft in her village. Still, she doubted even her brutish parents would have found it difficult to resist being enamoured by the sight of how much this old spirit adored this little orphan wolf.

It also warmed her to see that Rogh showed no negative reaction to her words. Several months ago, when she'd first stumbled into this world with a hole in the back of her head, any assertion to the strange man that the baby in his arms was anything but human would have sent him into a frenzy. But lately the manic episodes had subsided, there was a lot less fevered mumbling and self harm. He met Aelfwyn's eyes like he knew she was there. He laughed, truly laughed.

Perhaps it was the sleep. She'd wondered how long he'd kept himself awake for since discovering the cub and the affect that must have had on his already fragile mind. Now, even though Rogh still insisted on being the primary caregiver, he was less reluctant to hand the cub to Aeflwyn to hold so he could get a few hours of good sleep. Even his night terrors were becoming less frequent.

Not that the man who had become her only friend lately was anything close to normal. He was still prone to mood swings and startled outbursts. But he was playful and cheeky too. So long as they never strayed onto a subject too depressing, he could talk for hours about what he'd witnessed over his years as a spirit. He never ran out of stories and they were what she needed to protect her own sanity.

Snowflakes continued to fall around them, though not a single one landing on their skin. The winter had been harsh so far with a few blizzards, not that it affected them, other than the wind being an annoyance. Now it was starting to ease off, the land covered in a thick white blanket.

"Good we no feel cold. Shame she not able to feel snow." Rogh mused as he set the cub down on the ground, letting her wriggle on her belly and sniff the brisk air; "Me loved playing in snow when little. We build people out of it, give pebbles for eyes and sticks for hands, call them...Men of Snow."

Aelfwyn chuckled; "I miss doing that with my sister when we were really small." Back before they were only allowed out of the hut in Winter to hunt, "And sliding across the lake when it froze over."

"Ghost can still do that. Should do later. Even Kya like me think."

The little thing already slipped most of the time whenever she wasn't being held.

A howl was carried through the air from the other side of the land. The two of them looked over to see a large wolf stood on a hill. At her next howl, Kya began to whine too, as if trying to imitate it again.

"I think we found her a proper teacher." Aelfwyn said, half-heartedly.

But Rogh's smile fell as he looked between the blind cub and the wolf in the distance. He pointed a finger at her.

"You see neck?"

Aelfwyn narrowed her eyes. She had missed it at first, but on closer inspection she spotted a patch of red on the creature's fur, and an arrow sticking out above her shoulder. Yet she walked without so much as a limp.

"Is it...?"

"Dead. Me saw hunters pass by last night. Must have got her...She just have babies. Me took Kya to see."

The apprentice midwife listened to the howls again and heard, deep in the pain filled notes, a mother's mourning.

She dreaded to think what was done with her cubs after they killed the mother. With any luck they were taken to be trained and domesticated. But she knew that was unlikely.

Kya was wriggling in the direction of the adult wolf's cries.

"You don't think...?" Aelfwyn asked.

Rogh was staring at the cub, his expression unreadable. Aelfwyn didn't want to dare to suggest what was the right thing to do. She could see he was already well aware of the dilemma. She wasn't going to push her friend in any direction.

He reached to stroke his finger softly over the cub's head. Kya barely reacted to her "dad's" physical contact, her focus on sensing another of her kind.

"....You don't have to..." Aelfwyn started, seeing the wince of pain in Rogh's tired face; "I don't think that wolf can feed her anymore than you could now she's dead." Spirit bodies didn't seem to work that way as solid ones, though she did find it odd they still had the urge to relieve themselves.

Perhaps any milk offered would turn to dust as well.

"That not point." Rogh said with finality. He'd already made up his mind.

He scooped the cub up in both hands and began walking with purpose over to where the wolf stood.

"Rogh..." Aelfwyn followed at a distance.

Seeing the humans approach, the she-wolf moved into a defensive stance and raised her hackles, tail and ears erect.

Rogh stopped and moved down on one knee, almost reverently. He bowed his head.

Then, carefully, he moved his cupped hands to the ground and opened them. Kya nearly rolled out onto the snow, letting out a mewl of confusion at her new surroundings. Rogh stood up and stepped back, his eyes on the she-wolf.

The great beast relaxed somewhat, those magnificent blue eyes softening, as she observed the tiny motherless cub before her. Rogh took another step back as she padded forward, ears lowering, sniffing at the newborn. Both Aelfwyn and Rogh stood ready to swoop in if she violently rejected it, Aelfwyn's hand at the hilt of her dagger, Rogh's fists clenched. She wondered if her friend was partly hoping there would be no bond formed.

But then the she-wolf licked at the cub's head and nuzzled her. She lay down close enough to bring Kya in close with her paw and guide her to her underside. The little cub sniffed and whined and licked until, at last, she managed to latch on to something. Whether the mother wolf could provide her with any milk or not, she at least had the illusion of being fed and the comfort provided. The cub had never been so quiet while awake, suckling and sniffling as she buried into the wolf's side.

"There we go. It done." Rogh said, blandly, before turning around.

"Wait," Aelfwyn touched his arm; "You're not gonna say goodbye?"

"No."

He shook her off and kept walking.

"But-."

"Rogh no get goodbyes. Never. Come, you wanted to slide on ice, yes? We go now."

He was doing a very poor job of trying to pretend this wasn't tearing hum up inside. Aelfwyn didn't know whether to push or not. If this was his way of coping after having suffered so much loss, then...

With a sigh, she began to follow, before that familiar whimper stopped them in their tracks.

They both turned to see Kya having rolled away from the she-wolf and was wriggling her way in their direction. Her little nose sniffed at Rogh's invisible footprints and followed his pungent trail.

"No. You stay. You have mother now." He said firmly.

The little cub let out a heartwrenching whine as she poked her head up in the direction of his voice. She continued towards him.

Aelfwyn glanced at the she-wolf who remained on its side. With its head tilted, it looked as baffled about what was happening as she felt.

Rogh grunted and picked the cub up and turned her to face the wolf.

"That where you belong! Go! Me no want you anymore!" He began to raise his voice.

"Rogh..." Aelfwyn knew that was far from the truth.

And still the little cub persisted in turning around and pushing herself up in a fruitless attempt to crawl towards the only parent she'd ever known. Another little cry filled the air.

"RRAH! GO AWAY! GO!" Rogh lived up to his name by unleashing a furious roar at the cub, stamping his feet and holding his hands up to look as big and scary as possible.

Finally, the cub stopped and flinched, shaking terribly and crying in fear. Aelfwyn moved to tug Rogh back.

"Enough!" She hissed at him, just as the mother wolf stepped in to pick the cub up in her mouth by the scruff of Kya's neck.

Despite his great show of ferocity, Aelfwyn could see the tears shining in Rogh's eyes.

"I think she got the message. C'mon." She tried to lead the old spirit away.

Rogh was silent, his eyes downcast as Aelfwyn held his arm. He kept rubbing at his shift, as if expecting to find the cub having magically reappeared back beneath his furs. He looked like a man who'd had to rip his own heart out and leave it behind.

"You did a really brave thing just then." She praised, softly.

He grunted; "Why it always have to hurt?"

"Because that's what love does best." She smiled, nudging his side.

Neither of them felt much like skating right now, despite the lake being in great condition, as solid and firm, not that they had to account for their weight. They sat by the bank in silence for a while, listening to the birds and watching the deer creep out towards the meadows.

Aelfwyn silently prayed that a human spirit would join them soon. A new friend for both of them to meet and try to fill the strange gap left by the little wolf baby that had given their afterlife some small purpose each day. With any luck some of her tribe or another would expand to settle here and they'd at least have some livings to watch.

Until then, they had each other, she thought, quietly holding Rogh's fingers in her hand. Keeping each other sane would be their main concern.

A waft of warm air tickled the back of her neck.

Aelfwyn turned to see the she-wolf standing behind them, unfazed by the arrow that remained in her neck, a still wriggling Kya dangling from her mouth.

"Rogh, look." She smiled, tugging his hand.

The ancient man turned just as the wolf placed the cub on the ground and gave a derisive snort at Rogh.

Aelfwyn wasn't the best at reading animals but she was almost certain the bitch was saying "She yours. Wolf not take another mum's cub."

Before Rogh could react to the sight, the wolf turned and ran back into the woods.

Meanwhile, Kya was making her way as fast and awkwardly as possible towards Rogh's boot, sniffing and nuzzling at it, before attempting to climb it.

Aelfwyn grinned; "Think she knows who her real mum is."

Rogh's face creased with emotion before he scooped the cub up and held her before his face.

"Human Kya just as stubborn as you. Get it from me." He grumbled, closing his eyes as she licked the tip of his nose.

Aelfwyn smiled as he brought the little cub back to his chest, tears rolling down his cheeks.

The tiny wolf stretched and then curled into his skin, paw padding below his nape. She was still mewling away, but no longer in confusion or yearning. Her toothless gums flashed as she stretched her jaw for an adorable yawn before settling contently in Rogh's arms for a nap.

"She looks at home to me." Commeted Aelfwyn.

Rogh nodded in agreement, sniffling.

Somewhere in the distance, deep in the woods, a howl echoed across the land.

Before she could fall asleep, little Kya raised her nose above Rogh's furs and let out the smallest "awoo" sound in response. A greeting? A thank you? Just basic mimicking? It didn't matter. It was her first little howl.

"Ha! Told you!" Rogh grinned at Aelfwyn, who held her hands up, ready to admit when she was wrong.

[blazescompendium]

Shin Megami Tensei and social commentary

Twitter sure is a weird place

So, yesterday i was reading the tweets from Larrue, which is a great content creator if you don't know. And some fans, including me, engaged in a debate over the idea that, according to one specific person in that thead, Shin Megami Tensei ''isn't about politics'' and ''westerns have projected their frustration with politics into the series.'' I absolutely did not know that someone could think this way about a series that grounds itself in social commentary.

I have played SMT Strange Journey during one of the worst times of my society. 2020-2021 we were being ravaged by the Covid-19 pandemics (Please note that more than 600 thousand Brazilians lost their lifes during this crisis, in part due to terrible management of the government.) and environmental destruction lead by a party of completely evil people.

I remember one particular weekend, where a pretty important and big national park caught fire. The way i found out about the forest fire was because, when i got out of my apartment to take out the trash (the only time i got out during pandemics, honestly) and i found a neighbor looking to the sky in chock, when i looked up as well what i saw was a rain of ashes, like someone just exploded a paper truck above us. The ashes were being scattered everywhere, and the air was heavy. When i got up and turned the news up, i just found out the worst forest fire in my city was taking place.

(Do not mistake this for the Amazon Rainforest fires of the late 2010s. My city is very far away from there, but i think the point is still the same and could absolutely be applied there as well.)

The media outlets were hard to watch during this time, because the continuously increasing Covid body count won't stop, while the big capital guys pushed us, the poor, to work at the streets and put our lives at risk. At the same time, the news of the destruction the fire caused were horrifying. Tons of wildlife was burning and the State and people in power did nothing to help. We could not help, because our own lives were in risk.

I recall seeing reports of firefighters claiming to be following the screams of wild animals being burned alive, while trying to save what they could, but in the end it was not enough. 80% of the forest went down that weekend, and with it almost everything that was alive there as well. The reason for this? Someone lit up a Lantern inside the park, which is illegal by the way. This was when it sank to me, the stupidity of the Human being to destroy something so precious, for this little. How can even someone sleep at night with such a burden in their consciousness?

At the time i fell to a violent depressive episode because of all that was happening around me. And the reason for me to bring this all, is because i was actually playing Shin Megami Tensei: Strange Journey for the first time, during this event. I was exactly at the Horkos chapter, where the crew of our spaceship arrive inside a level of the mysterious Scharzwelt that looks like a Shopping Center. This level symbolized the greed and consumerism of the Human Race during the late stage capitalism. Its boss being Horkos, a demon that is hellbent in consuming everything, every time.

Horkos here is the greek counterpart of Orcus, the roman god of death. This particular deity is violent, and will consume enemy troups and cause havoc. (I can go deeper if i ever do a Compendium Entry of this one) It is also depicted during medieval times as the probable inspiration of the Orcs, which is the reason they both share similar designs in Megaten.

This glutton evil god is born out of the Human nature to consume and spread without limit, destroying and ravaging the planet as they do so. This point is brought many times during the plot.

The reason i am connecting this all together, is because when i was playing, i felt that the criticism got so close home, i contemplated stopping playing, thinking that i was not with the right mind to do so. I continued though.

Strange Journey does not stop right there. Each level of the Scharzwelt has one more criticism to Human society, it goes from war, to capitalism, to enviromental destruction, and its a great journey on what is about to be Human. So much so, that i felt it so close home, it made me feel kinda bad. I mean, it was hitting very close home, during that time. Every week the news made me feel like i was going a level deeper inside the Scharzwelt.

So, i am sure the game where a gluttonous evil god is born out of Humanity's late stage capitalism and we feel the rage of gods for destroying our planet has absolutely no social commentary whatsoever, and any politics in it was purely inserted by us, the players. Yeah, i am absolutely positive about that huh!?

In the end, it is indeed just a video game. It is as deep as it can be, but this don't stop the medium to convey such strong messages and criticism of Human Society. I am not even going into what Atlus staff say about the matter here (Which do back up this argument) , because i wanted to make this as personal as possible, so maybe when you think about this, you can insert yourself in the shoes as someone experiencing Human society in a personal view. Which, in truth is all what politics is about. See? Hah, got you Twitter anon.

Politics is not what the left want to discuss, and has nothing to do with projecting societal problems into neutral stuff. Politics is the science behind human behavior in society, and thus every work that touches this, ended up being political. I am sorry to be the one to bring this to you, anon from twitter.

To see people swearing SMT doesn't has a social commentary, it's just baffling to me because I felt it so strongly in this entry, that i almost stop playing it for a while because I was depressed on how much of it was true.

Not entirely related, but very interesting quote in Nocturne

[httpsserene-main]

ephemeral (bang chan)

developer notes ☽: inspired by my ig for you page being bang chan bf edits...i did not ask to be depressed because i can't find a man suitable for my standards :) fuck u christopher for being so fine tonight

soundtrack☽: birdie - kota the friend

notifications☽: 818 words, fluff, not proofread, gnl!reader

"time is our only dilemma"

a warm yellow-toned ambient glow is cast within the bathroom from a small desk lamp that you’ve commandeered as a substitution to the harsh fluorescents of the room’s installed lights. a small bluetooth speaker rests on the countertop next to the lamp on its third to last volume setting cycling through a random spotify playlist you’ve selected. it’s probably one out of the hundreds of comfort character playlists you’d never tell a soul that you listen too.

but, you realize that chan’s most likely seen the embarrassing and unending list of the cutesy-fictional catered playlists you’ve become obsessed with in the previous weeks as he’s logged in to your spotify account on his phone. a few months ago, you discovered a new playlist hiding within your massive library that you didn’t add or create, entitled “songs i listen to remind me of you.” that was at the front of your recently played, the cover photo being a picture of you asleep on the couch in chan’s studio (a photo chan’s never shown you). when you clicked to investigate further, you were shocked to see the playlist filled with over a hundred songs, and a description filled to the word limit. tears filled your eyes as you read the romantic note chan had left for you to see, and you listened to the whole playlist while cleaning your entire apartment. there wasn’t a single moment that the heat left your flustered cheeks or the sweet smile left your face. and when you met with your boyfriend in person, you certain that he was blushing underneath his mask when you alerted him of your findings, and he revealed that he was going to surprise you with your specially curated mixtape on your next visit to his studio. 

when you asked why he was giving you such a sweet gift so randomly, his answer came without hesitation. chan said, “there doesn’t need to be a reason for me to express my love for you. of course this gift is meaningful enough for valentine’s day, or an anniversary, or your birthday, but any day i have with you is enough for me to treat you like the love of my life.”

and after a revelation like that, how could you remember the embarrassing fanfic-esque playlists you had downloaded to your phone? they literally don’t matter anymore, not when you have a whole dime piece, respectful, sexy, intelligent, thoughtful-ass christopher bang chan confessing his undying love for you.

that’s all to say that you probably should’ve selected that mixtape to play through tonight, but it’s too late to change that fact, as you would hate to disturb the bubble of space you’ve created in the bathroom to retrieve your phone from the bedroom. and to interrupt the peaceful bath you and chan are enjoying. it’s a rare night that chan was able to join you in your apartment instead of you going to his dorm to see him, and the night is made more precious at the fact that he fought his workaholic tendencies to join you earlier in the evening around seven pm rather than his usual appearance past midnight. and a spontaneous date night was suddenly underway; you and chan cooked dinner together made from the dregs of ingredients in your sparse fridge (grocery day is tomorrow), made progress on cleaning up your animal crossing island together, and even got a few episodes into a short anime you wanted to watch with him. a bath was the only reasonable option to end the cozy date night you both started.

the water is probably half-an-hour away from transitioning from warm to lukewarm, and the bubbles are starting to become sparse. you’re nestled in between his legs, back pressed against his muscled-pillowy chest, head resting aside one of his shoulders to avoid smushing shower cap against his face. chan’s head is propped on the shower tiles, his neck elongated and your fascinated with the view of his adam’s apple bobbing and throat swallowing as he speaks softly to you. his eyes are shut, but he opens them every time you speak to him, seeping with the adoration he has for you. his hands rest on your waist underneath the water, and every so often he squeezes you lighty, and traces patterns on your skin he only knows. eventually you two find yourself running out of things to talk about, but the silence that follows isn’t uncomfortable. you gladly allow your eyes to flutter closed, and chan begins humming softly; both of you are well aware that you should wrap up the bath, as you both still have early starts tomorrow morning, or rather–this morning.

moments like these are few and far for a man of chan’s lifestyle, and neither of you are going to be the one to cut it short. while this scene is ephemeral, that does not mean it is insignificant.

much love, <3 kirby !!!

© killakirby - piracy and plagiarism are not allowed. no reposts on any form of media

[kagi123]

S1e03: The episode that inspired the infamous makeover --like betty looked really good in my opinion maybe the hair was a bit much but she was so confident I loved that for her 🥹���💜💜. Is it safe to theorize that the late nights they spent working ignited something between them. More so with daniel though as he felt he could share his dads trauma with betty like who does that with their assistance, which is why when he said "they smile a little brigheter when they enter the room" I thought he meant betty my delulu sorry--he was just talking about his dads favouritism I realise.

Maybe I don't get it why would marc wanting to make betty a screenshot on his phone not make me assume he finds her attractive like I don't understand how am I supposed to percieve it as mean. Especially with her beautiful smile

--not daniels finest episode, sees betty and is like she should call for a table at the back at the restuarant they were going to😑😑. Still pissed but when daniel looks at betty when they are presenting infront of his dad and his dad says he doesn't know what his doing it's like looking at betty give him confidence that if she believes in this then why shouldn't I stand up to my dad. Daniel sure does have his low moments and good moments I'll say that. Hated Whilemina for how she treated betty here (but her moment with her dad😓😓) and he did try to to defend betty and checked up on her in the female bathroom which could is the bare minimum but no boss does the things daniel has done on behalf of betty as his assitant or i could be wrong. Although again he has his moments because he didn't try to persaude betty to go to the dinner she planned and wouldn't have happened without her. Let's her be replaced by amanda (couldn't he say to vincent betty wasn't feeling well but I understand also not trying to upstage a client) it's very iffy. But then he upstages the whole date, also mind you he was literally drinking as if he was depressed of her not being there And that's why he proudly fetches her ,has her up close to him and everything like I'm not ashamed of her and really shows how they were growing together. He apologizes for everything when they get to the office and just is so vunerable to her about Whilemina and her dad and like he said at the date the he got caught up in some stupid image. Also he was so work husband "i give you bettys word" this men is insane he let betty run that company basically. Like the way he lights up his world is crazy his reaction to bettys shut up (he loved that girl ) and the saying cojones with that smirks sir ur feelings are showing.

S1e04: Boo walter👎🏽👎🏽👎🏽 his so annoying like he some how didn't want betty to prosper in life. But on the plus side justin and marc friendship starts in this episode --and the start of the trio that is betty marc and amanda so cute they had each others backs. Daniel and betty having a secret together 🥹🥹. I love the parrlells of Whilemina and betty and feym her trying to honour her Memory even though she wasn't the greatest boss to her I think that's wholesome she suggested that.

He's INSANE sir she is ur Assitance ,like what are u talking about. Betty coming all lovey dovey with "heres ur dinner must be starving " like something about her doing her job has so much love ---the undertones. "You worker hard today" in a soft tone. And everything after that has me kicking and giggling. The vunerable moments between between them is just so wholesome so the musical box mystery is addressed and one thing a white cishet men will do is cause trauma. I love their eye contact "just be careful what you say" . I know this is the building of their friendship but their chemistry is just way to good for me to ever see them that way and this early too ,like if anything the friendship they were building was between betty and marc/Whilemina. The eye contact 😭😭 like not him repeating what he said early as if to reassure her to make sure she understands that she is important to him that she could do no wrong in his eyes , she'd burn down some magazine and he'd try and find a way to defend her. This level of care he had for her is crazy like whaaa.