#it’s already too far gone to be saved and so all we get is hopeless acceptance

[cornedbread]

These drawings are holding hands in my mind…

to the pressure

[mellohirust]

still can't stop thinking about just how unsettling gl!Ranboo's death was. we've seen so many die in gen loss by this point already. in more horrific cases, there's screams of terror. there's some sort of fight against it, an unwillingness. it drags on, and on, and on, and yet it's still played off as just part of this show. even in the more comedic instances, the show at the very least keeps going. you don't have time to linger on it. there's still life to be found. the music is still rolling. a mascot is still around to commentate such events. it's too late for the lives lost, but not for the rest, is what you want to tell yourself, despite how doomed you know they all are.

gl!ranboo, on the other hand, screams on behalf of his own demise, admitting defeat in their final moments, simply because if they were always destined to lose (they were) then they at least wish to do something on his own terms, even if it's finding peace in the worst way possible. it was the only choice, the only chance he saw left at freedom, and they were probably right about it. this is the instance in which the audience is given the decision to have blood on our hands, specifically (given the fact that in the midst of the carousel hostage scenario we could only ever 'save' one), and we listen. we give them the choice they can't make alone. we let him go. we watch him go.

it's a sudden action. it's so quiet. the music is gone. there's no struggle because it's too late for it. he's already detained. they've already cried out at the top of their lungs in anguish and struggled enough in far too many chains to ever dream of getting out of in time. it is hopeless, and it always was, but it's clearer in this instance now more than ever. for a moment, you want to think this can't truly be it. perhaps he'll be lucky, somehow survive a literal death trap. perhaps showfall is just putting this on, too, as part of their show. perhaps they'll let him go, the second this is all over, if he miraculously makes it out. we wished for their death, didn't we? could they really add him onto their cast, afterwards, going against our wishes? you know these are foolish ideas. you toy with them anyways. you are used to, by now, a show that keeps going. you want this show to keep going, even if not with gl!ranboo in turmoil.

and then the blood drips down. the credits roll. you sealed that fate yourself. there was never a good one that lied waiting for you. but you could have avoided any guilt you felt by simply never watching, like we'd been told from the start, and in the midst of that silence, you're never more aware of it.

holy shit.

[oneshotnewbie]

could you do a oneshot where Kara and Alex s little sister is flown up into the air and dropped by Non Kara risks her identity in civilian clothes to fly up and catch her. But when she brings her back down b!d gets physically sick and faints in her sisters arms.

Authors note: One of my oldest requests (October 29, 2019) and I'm only now getting around to posting it. I'm sorry to whoever asked for this, I don't know why I ignored this request for so long and why it's been in my finished stories for over a year.

ᕚ---ᕘ

Alex and Kara were two siblings who had fought every battle together and they had always thought that they could protect you from every harm and depth of the world's darkness. But on that fateful evening everything, unbeknownst to them, would be turned to dust as they stood in National City Park waiting for Non to show up and make a deal that would bring peace between the two forces.

"I still don't think it was a good idea at all to show up here alone, Kara," the redhead thundered between her breaths, her gun already unholstered and ready to fire. She knew it wasn't a good idea to be here but she wanted to finally put an end to Non's evil activities. "We should have told J'onn."

"Maybe not just him, but me too?" they suddenly heard a familiar voice behind them. Their heads quickly turned back and looked at your face in shock, disbelieving that you had followed them. "What the hell are you doing here?"

You had joined the DEO a few months ago to combat the threats of aliens and especially other Kryptonians who wanted to hurt your sister. Everything had gone well so far, your training as an agent had been successfully completed, but they were afraid that you would be injured and so they didn't take you on larger missions that posed a higher risk of injury.

Like now.

A stronger gust of wind mixed with swirling dust had you stumbling back a few steps, shielding your eyes from the fine particles in the air. Seconds later, when the surroundings had calmed down, the three of you managed to look up. A little further above you in the air, Non looked down at you, his cold eyes sparkling with malice. "Ah, Y/n... nice that you're here too. That's quite fitting," he remarked with a malicious grin playing on his lips. "I think you'll do an excellent job of illustrating my new demonstration."

A frightening shadow crossed Kara and Alex's faces as Non flew between the two of them at the speed of light and lifted you into the air in a single, quick movement. Your desperate cries shattered the night's silence as you fought desperately against the iron grip on your neck, but it was hopeless. With each passing moment he rose meter by meter higher as the surroundings and your siblings slowly became a distant speck.

Alex and Kara stared in shock at the horrific sight that was unfolding before their eyes. “Y/n!!!” Alex shouted in panic, but her shouts were swallowed up by the wind piercing through your ears. She didn't know what to do, she couldn't shoot. The risk of hitting you and causing life-threatening injuries was far too high. "Now, my dear niece, you can see how powerless you are," Non mocked. His eyes sparkled with darkness as he ignored the desperate gasp from you to free yourself and instead gripped tighter.

"Non! Let go of my sister!" The blonde shouted with a mix of anger and desperation in her voice. Her gaze was fixed on you as she looked at her uncle challengingly. The person you spoke to laughed scornfully and looked at you one last time, with no remorse in his eyes. "Well, whatever you want, Supergirl."

Without warning, he let go of you and your horrified screams filled the air as you fell uncontrollably. Kara clenched her fists in anger and determination. She knew she had to do something to save you, even if it meant revealing her own identity. In a moment of urgency, she took off in a daring leap, flying upward at incredible speed. The cold of the night sky hit her face, but the heat that entered her queasy stomach made her fly higher to save you.

The blonde accelerated her flight power, her superpowers feeling stronger than she had ever experienced before, and she reached it just in time to catch you before you hit the ground. She approached you with impressive speed and caught you in her arms. She held herself tightly in her arms, felt your body trembling and saw the fear in your eyes as you clung to her tightly. Kara knew she had to act quickly and get you downstairs. "It's all good, sweetheart. I'll get you back to the ground, just hold on tight."

When they finally arrived safely on the ground, both siblings were overcome with a wave of relief. You were saved, but the fight against Non was far from over. "Don't you dare try to harm her again!" she hissed in a dangerously low tone. and looked with a challenging look at Alex, who was holding you tightly in her arms out of worry and fear for your life. She nodded encouragingly at her and let her fly back into the sky to prepare for the upcoming duel with Non.

Meanwhile, Alex stayed back on the floor with you as you leaned against her, exhausted, sinking into her embrace. The traumatic event echoed in your mind, your breathing shallow as physical and emotional exhaustion overwhelmed you.

The redhead, recognizing the tension in your features, took your hand and squeezed it gently. "It's all good, I'm here with you," she whispered reassuringly to you, but you flinched in her arms, an even violent tremble overcoming you. Your eyes widened in panic and you felt your stomach clench spasmodically as a wave of nausea washed over you. "Hey, what's up?"

Alex was worried when she noticed the sudden change. You tried to answer, but your voice failed miserably. The words got stuck in your throat as your complexion paled. Panic rose in the eldest. "It's all good, you hear?" she hugged you tightly, trying to calm you down from the shock, but the symptoms intensified.

The world began to spin around you, the sounds became muffled, and you felt your body give way. Your sister continued to hold you tightly, trying to keep you close, but the strength suddenly left you and your body collapsed into hers.

[captaincoffeegirl515]

This is such an underrated moment and it makes me sad that I haven't seen people talking about it bc I feel like it gives us such insight to Go Won's complicated feelings towards Jang Uk and why he's still talking to Jin Mu despite not agreeing with Jin Mu's plans.

Just like how Naksu is Cho Yeong's peacock, Jang Uk is Go Won's. Jang Uk has everything Go Won wants. He was born with the King's Star, has the ice stone, and is the most powerful person in Daeho.

In the story Go Won talks about, the crow basically wishes to be like the peacock. The crow hates its own boring black feathers and thinks the peacock is grand and beautiful, and the crow both admires and envies the peacock for what it was born with. So the crow gathers up fallen peacock feathers, places it among its own, and pretends to be a peacock.

Likewise, Go Won admires Jang Uk. A lot. To the point where we joke that he's in love with Jang Uk. Of course, he's also jealous (which is where I think his "hate" stems from) bc, to him, Jang Uk is very gifted in that he has both the King's Star and the ice stone (the former being something he's probably been told since he was young that he should want, and not having it makes him inferior)

So Go Won puts on some peacock feathers and pretends to be one. He pretends that the King's Star is his, even though it makes him uncomfortable. (I know Jang Uk had been the one to tell him to take credit from the beginning, but Go Won continued to keep up the farce.)

Then when Cho Yeong asks him why he doesn't stop pretending if he was uncomfortable with it, he thinks he's too far gone to stop. It's been three years, surely it's already too late for him. I feel like he thinks that he doesn't deserve redemption after all the time that passed with him still working with Jin Mu, and that it's hopeless for him now.

Even when Cho Yeong tries to make him feel better, he tells her that she's a bad judge of character, which says that he doesn't really believe her when she tells him that he's kind/warm-hearted or that he has a rare/noble energy. Like. Yeah he smiled when she said it, but who wouldn't smile when they're complimented like that?

But him saying her judgement is wrong implies that he doesn't agree with it due to all the bad things that he's done. The biggest one being that because he let his jealousy get to him, he allowed Jin Mu to get away and use Nasku. He's shown that he regretted it, but it's not like he can change the past.

And it's kind of heartbreaking bc so far he's pretty much been doing things that proved her right, like being angry at how the Queen treated the servants when he passed by that injured maid, or investigating the powders being given to the King's concubines, or saving the turtle, or helping convince the King that the soul shifter was Naksu so that Jin Mu couldn't use Naksu's name to haunt Jang Uk anymore, or when he tried to cheer Cho Yeong up when she was sad about her husband.

His reaction when she pointed out that he saved the turtle so he shouldn't feel so hopeless, was especially telling. The initial shock and surprise. That split-second of strong emotions where his face kinda scrunches up before he manages to reign it in. It's like he wants to believe her but he can't.

I sincerely, strongly hope that he ends up joining Jang Uk and helping him take Jin Mu down, because anything else would be a severe waste of his character.

[personthattoleratesme]

tell me what the video Basically, I’m Gay means to you?

My answer will discuss suicide and death of a family member, so trigger warning for that

I feel like this might be a little trauma dump-y but also you asked and I want to give a genuine and honest answer, perhaps it's not what you were expecting/hoping to hear but my relationship with BIG is very unique and I do want to share it, so click keep reading if you want to hear it.

On June 6th 2019 my 24 year old cousin passed away due to suicide. He meant a lot to me, he was the only member of my family who was openly part of the lgbt community. We grew up very close - almost as siblings - so his death hit me incredibly hard, to this day it's the worst thing I've ever been through.

The weeks surrounding his death - when he was still in the hospital, and then afterwards the funeral arrangements - were extremely awful for me. My teachers at school were entirely unsympathetic towards what I was going through, none of my friends or peers really understood the grief I was feeling, and I essentially had no support system to help me through this time period. I felt so alone in so many ways.

I must've gone to bed early on June 13th, as the funeral was going to take place the very next day. I remember being in bed when the notification appeared on my phone. Daniel Howell. Basically I'm Gay. 45 minutes long.

You can probably imagine that considering the emotional roller coaster I was already going through at the time, this very notification - and with that the video - made me feel emotions so bizarre and complex that they're only visible to shrimp. I do think the whole dead cousin thing made me unable to truly appreciate watching that masterpiece the first time, and I am sad that I'll never be able to experience it for the first time again in better circumstances. But it did provide me with an interesting core memory.

The contents of the video hit incredibly close to home at the time. I remember being sad that I couldn't show it to him. That it was just a few days too late. That maybe he needed to see someone who made it, another queer man who had been where he was and has now gone to live a happy an unapologetic queer life.

I was mourning the end of my cousin's queer story, but also feeling pride because I was witnessing the beginning of Dan's. It was confusing and upsetting. It was the proof that queer stories can have happy endings, but my cousin would never be able to get his.

I feel many emotions when I think of the release of BIG. But I do think I am genuinely happy that it was uploaded when it was. It fucked with my brain in many ways, but it also gave me hope. It gave me a much needed light when I was spiraling deep into a depression in real time. Without it I would've felt even more hopeless.

I am genuinely very thankful that Dan has proved to me that there's hope and a light at the end of the tunnel. He's definitely saved my life a few times. And look at me, almost 5 years later I'm still here. And I'm not going anywhere. I'm sorry for my cousin, that he never got to find that light and have that happy ending. He deserved it just as much as Dan and myself. Which is why I'm living for the both of us now and holding onto any hope for dear life.

If you've made it this far, thank you for reading all of this. I hope it wasn't too sad. I'm kind of glad I got to vent about this I won't lie. Sorry about the length of it.

[kovnynir]

𝑳𝑬𝑨𝑵𝑰𝑵𝑮 𝑶𝑵 𝑪𝑳𝑶𝑼𝑫𝑺

he definitely wasn't sure if this was a good idea. 

theoretically, it was supposed to be the best thing for him -- he was having a lot of weird doubts and bad feelings surrounding his religion, so of course the first step would be to talk to the literal religious leader. bird was terrified regardless. he felt immensely uncomfortable and full of shame, which was probably the baseline religious experience. 

safi opened the door and gave a polite nod to bird, who'd been pacing anxiously. ❝ c'mon in -- you're bird korviss, right? ❞ she clarified. bird nodded and removed his helmet, entering her apartment. 

❝ take a seat wherever you like, make yourself comfortable, ❞ she said. ❝ can i get you anything? tea, water... ❞

❝ oh- no thank you, ❞ bird said, taking a seat at the table. safi sat across from him and folded her hands. 

❝ so, what would you like to talk about? ❞

bird stared down at the table for a few moments, ingesting the very simple question lobbed his way. where did he even fucking start?

❝ i... i don't know, ❞ he finally said, glancing up at her. ❝ i guess it's -- er, i'm -- it's all very... hard to talk about. i've never felt this way before. and i don't know who to talk to about it other than... you. ❞

safi nodded. ❝ well, that is why i'm here -- to help you analyze those strange feelings and hopefully give you guidance. i've studied our ways for most of my life, so i'm confident that we can find some way to help you. ❞

bird nodded. ❝ i-i don't doubt your wisdom. i guess i just doubt my ability to be saved. ❞

safi raised a brow. ❝ saved? ❞

bird blinked. ❝ i-... that might be... poor wording, i think. ❞

safi shook her head a little. ❝ people tend to pick words for specific reasons. not all terms are interchangeable, and 'saved' implies a very specific meaning. so... let's start with that, hm? why do you think you need saving? ❞

bird stared at his helmet, which stared blankly at him from its spot on the table. he thought of what to say for a few minutes, unable to word anything the way he wanted it to be. 

❝ because i think i should be dar'manda. ❞

❝ hm. rather intense. why? ❞

❝ because i... got my clan killed. i didn't want it to happen -- i was the leader, i- i was supposed to lead, and they all died because of me. ❞

safi leaned back in her seat a little, nodding to themself. ❝ did you know they would die before leading them into whatever danger got them killed? ❞

❝ i- i knew it was possible -- i didn't think we all... no one thought that it'd be so... so much... ❞ his voice was absent. he was far away. ❝ we were trying to save my wife as well as our planet. they took her- they took both regardless... we failed. i failed. ❞

❝ so it was unintentional. you did not lead them to slaughter. you miscalculated -- seems like all of you did, or else there would've been some conscientious objectors. ❞ safi tilted their head a little. ❝ no one loses their soul over honest mistakes... truth be told, the matter of dar'manda and soul-loss is... it's a bit of an iffy, difficult thing all the way down. but it's certainly not the automatic punishment for trying your best and failing. ❞ he was quite young to have gone through all of this -- and his wife? stars, he was too young for most of this stuff. 

bird looked at safi again, his eyes showing the core of his feelings -- the hopelessness and despair. it was like safi didn't even have to name him dar'manda, his soul had already fled long ago. 

❝ did you find your wife? ❞ safi asked. ❝ reconnect with her? ❞

bird nodded. ❝ i did. took me years. but i found her. ❞

❝ that's a good thing. you can heal, together. ❞

bird's eyes went absent again. ❝ sure... it's too strange, though. i don't want to be without her, but i don't... i don't know her anymore. ❞

safi nodded a little. ❝ it's understandable... the years and separation has put some roadblocks in your way. and questioning your religion, which seems inherently tied to your wife, wouldn't help things. ❞

bird took a shaky breath and nodded. he was grateful that safi understood. ❝ on my journey, i ran into so many things that made me question everything... the amount of times i was nearly killed by other mandalorians, or- or killed by people that hated me just because of my armor and my creed, i... ❞ he looked up at safi. ❝ i prayed and i felt nothing. normally, i'd feel comfort. that the ancestors were there around me. but i just felt... empty. like they'd left me. ❞

so bird definitely leaned into the mystical side of things -- souls, spirits, prayer. there were many paths and interpretations in the religion, and safi had studied all of them. for bird's situation, she carefully moved her books around to use only one; a codex filled with stories and jate'nari based in the mystical. 

❝ prayer is a very personal, finicky thing. it seems like it comforts us sometimes, then leaves us cold and alone other times. but if there's one thing i know, it's that an endless community of warriors wouldn't abandon one of their own in their time of need. it goes against the very resol'nare and the jate'nari we subscribe to. ❞ safi started going through the book, seeking out a story that might help bring bird comfort. 

❝ y'know there's a hero that was in a very similar situation to you? ❞ she said, glancing up at him. ❝ there once was a warrior, gozu'chil, the son of the red helm. his wife, mafi'ashla was taken as a prisoner of war, he fought for ten years to return her. he was persecuted for his religion, beaten and tortured, and in the end, he died. ❞

❝ depressing, ❞ bird noted. 

❝ yeah. but mafi'ashla prayed to the warriors and ancestors every single night, and she felt alone. but when she felt her husband die, her strength found her and she broke out herself, fulfilling her husband's dream. she is the hero of this story. she took up arms and won the war, freeing more prisoners and slaves in her wake. she later died and was canonized a saint. ❞

bird cocked his head. ❝ is this supposed to comfort me? ❞

safi smiled a little. ❝ it's supposed to remind you -- power comes from within. not from the ancestors. they are gone. you are here. there's nothing wrong with prayer -- it's good to lift your thoughts up and vent to the universe, but never lean on a cloud. there’s nothing they can do for you... they can’t change the way other people act. neither can you. all you can do is all you can do. so... rely on yourself. ❞

bird ran a hand through his hair. he felt foolish -- she was right. he had relied so much on very trivial things. 

❝ bird... here's the thing. religion is a part of us... it isn't our only aspect. being a mandalorian is not what makes you who you are. you are bird -- you are whoever you want to be. you can be a mandalorian, a husband, a million other things. but you've got to let yourself be more than just a mandalorian. i think our creed is pretty great. but it's not the only thing i am. and i'm the manda'bajur, for stars' sake. ❞

bird nodded a little. ❝ but... but i don't know who i am. all i've ever known is... is this. is religion, and being a leader one day, and... and kira. those were the three 'givens'. i fucked up one, i lost the other and had to search for years, and... and my religion, it's been weird ever since i lost my clan. ❞

safi shrugged. ❝ well, that's the problem -- you grew up with all your eggs in three baskets. it didn't work out. now is a period of revolution in you -- you must learn to spread your attention and start discovering more about yourself. cultivate parts of you that had to be ignored in favor of your 'big three'. become... bird. whatever that means to you. ❞

he wasn’t sure how he would do that. his entire life, as he said, was centered around three things. to have to start looking at other things and build a whole new person... he was worried. 

❝ i guess i just don’t know where to start, ❞ he said after a few moments of pondering. 

safi thought for a few moments, then nodded. ❝ pick up a job, ❞ she decided. ❝ find a job somewhere in town -- something different from what you’re used to. get to know the townspeople and start connecting with the other mandalorians here as well. take your wife out for dates where the two of you can get to know the newer versions of yourselves. and over time, this exposure to other people and ideas will help spark your curiosities. now that you don’t have to put all your focus on leading, you can try new things. ❞

bird bit down on his lip. he could do that -- he was determined to figure all of this out, so... he’d do whatever it took. he needed to fix this. ❝ okay -- okay. i’ll work on that. thank you -- i appreciate the guidance. ❞

safi nodded as bird got up. ❝ my pleasure. come back any time if there’s more you want to talk about. ❞

[8054yamato]

I'm shut out, I'm shut in

And every time I try to reach out, to reach in, I break my fingers on the bricks

I'm tied up, I'm tied down

And every time I try to fly up, I fly down into the sea and hold my breath

I am a mirrored rumble fish

Life is so clenching for the kill

So could you reach down and pull me out?

Or am I just too far gone?

I may be too far gone to be saved.

My eyes have gone blurry. Meaningless quarrells, escapism, and suicidal thoughts have run rampant as an everyday occurance in my life. Everyone else who was around me has moved on, but it seems that I can not. Life fucking sucks and I do not think I can thug it out anymore. It is too stressful and I am a disappointment and a shame to myself. Everything about me is horrid. From my mental down to my character. I am tainted. If I can't even stomach myself, how can others handle me? Not only am I unstable, but I fake my happiness too often for it to be noticable.

It absolutely is ironic how I say bullying will never get to me. To an extent, it is true. Why the fuck would a random's opinion matter? Until you realize self-hate is a form of bullying as well. My biggest enemy is myself. Every year, my mirror wins an argument against me. Over time, that gets to you and makes me feel empty. I lost who I truly was ages ago. I am a husk of despair, desparate, and fake emotions.

I am turning 19 this year which will be my final age until the universe goes under a heat death. They say a person truly dies when everyone has stopped thinking of them post-mortem. I wonder how long that'll take for me? 1 week? 1 month? I hope it's no longer than 3 days, but that's a little to optimistic. I hope I am not used as a statistic or a fuel for someone's propaganda.

Since 2019/2020, I have attempted suicide at least once per year. Each time I (obviously) have failed. 2025 will for sure be my year. By my next attempt, my ex-friends would have already been near at the end of their first year of college or maybe preparing the start of their first year. People who I love will be out working on their respective career or retire that same year. I won't be there to experience their feats, but I will be looking up and cheering them on.

Looking back at my life, I am happy I dragged nobody into my problems. I would just waste their time since I can not be fixed. It would be as hopeless as taping up shattered glass. Of course, even if I were to rewind time, I do not think I can fix myself still or have the confidence for that at minimum. Some people are meant to quit and I am destined to be one of them. Some people are just too vulnerable to carry on and persist through mental barriers.

I am wondering: "Where did it all go wrong?". Birth probably. Jokes aside, the internet influence on a 6 year old me was bad. I developed dark humor and learned slurs like the hard R.

2011-2012 was a wild year for a boy surfing on the internet alone. The very first porno I watched was, I shit you not, 2 Girls 1 Cup. There might've been porn ads on that site which led me to my first real porn site. I don't remember it exactly but I think it was hdporn.com or something.

I may be a Gen-Z kid, but I grew up with millenial household so I was into cultures of that time. I love emo, anime, very early K-POP, rock, internet memes, forums/threads, and so on because I grew up in that environment. Unfortunately, while I was able to make friends, I could not find anyone who could really relate to me 1:1. As a child, I grew up not having any similarities with people in terms of childhood and so our interests were vastly different. I was still able to make friends because we all enjoyed each other's company. Until I crashed out in fifth grade and became a loner for the entirety of that year and half of 6th grade. I was severely depressed at this time.

So I guess the start of it all really was fifth grade. That might have been where my life gone to helplessness.

People say suicide isn't the answer. That's their opinion. I honestly am just tired of fighting. They are right, but I just do not give a fuck anymore. I would like to sleep forever and rot underground or in a jar. In the ocean would be pretty badass too.

6-7 months left on my lifespan.

[coffeeangelinabox]

Snippet answering 3

"Is there any plan in your brilliant head that doesn't involve one of us as a sacrifice?"

He gives her a cocky grin. "You think I'm brilliant?"

"Ethan," her voice sharpens, not in the mood for his jokes at all, but using the anger to replace, or at least feign, some of her depleted energy "Ethan. You can't-"

The sounds on the other side of their homemade barrier are becoming louder. There are more of them gathering. Humans, one can fight, but these unholy creatures...bullets and blades do little good. Even if not for...but there's no point in dwelling. The situation is hopeless for a whole collection of reasons.

She starts at the feeling of his thumb brushing a tear that she hadn't realised she had let roll down her cheek. "Becky-"

There's no levity in his voice now and his green eyes cut sharply to one side, before his voice lowers still further. Impossibly, that raises part of a smile. How typical of Ethan Miller to be more afraid of a few seconds of emotional intimacy that the twisted monsters mere seconds from ripping them apart.

"I won't leave you," she says, a flat statement.

His touch turns from tender to harsh and his eyes flash dangerously. "You will."

After all this time, he still thinks he can *force* her to bow to demands, thinks he can order away like some frightened pitiful girl to cower behind him. She sneers up at him and it pulls at the skin on her cheek and she's aware again of the darkening bruises she sustained earlier. "Make me."

"Would you really make me die knowing I couldn't even save you?"

Some of the fight goes out of her, though the tension doesn't. His thumb is still pressing a bruise under her eye, but she leans a little into the pain, grounding herself in it and the coolness of his touch. She rests her own hands on his chest and, shockingly, he doesn't say a word, allowing her to brace herself, to take the comfort that she knows will soon be gone. "It was your idea. It's one of us, or both of us."

The first of their adversaries peers over the barrier. It is nothing but a twisted lump of rotting flesh, appendages and tissue drawn from numerous victims and crudely stitched together. It looks horrifying and stinks worse. Somehow, even without eyes, it peers from the top of the over turned table down on them, the mishapen and broken hand jerking out of the top of it claws towards them.

In unison, Ethan and Becky draw talismans from their back pockets, holding them up. The thing sizzles. Blisters popping up on flesh which first reddens then blackens until it splits like over cooked meat. Becky feels the familiar tingle in her palm that's her power readying itself for the battle ahead and she knows it isn't enough. She's too tired and hurts too much. There are just too many.

"One of us has to get back," and she forces her voice to be cold and hard, not to allow the affection burning in her chest, the only thing warming her, to show. He's seen her tears once. Not again. "We know what's coming. We're the only ones who know. We can't allow the others to be taken by surprise. We need-" she cuts herself off with a hoarse cough and he jerks forward.

"Becky?"

She grabs his shoulder and pushes harder against him, keeping him from leaning too close into her space, refusing to take more from him, and stays her course. "You have to-"

For a moment, his fire comes back to him, but it's muted, already quenched with pain and she knows she's won. "Why?" He asks bitterly. "I know...after everything...after Declan...but won't you at least take this from me?"

And she cannot allow him to imagine she'd rather die than rely on him, that is a cruelty too far. She peels a her hand off his shoulder and he braces her as she wobbles, but his eyes follow her fingers as she reaches down, as she lifts the hem of her ragged once-pink t-shirt.

Pulling the cotton away from the vicious rent in her flesh makes her hiss. He whitens. "How? When?" and she knows he is looking not just at the depth of the wound, blood so thick it is almost black and the way you can see the moving sides of white fat and near purple muscle, quivering with each of her shaking inhalations. He is taking note of the yellowish green slime bubbling from it, connecting her bright eyes and flushed skin to the unhealthy pallor and tightened swelling of the wound.

She doesn't actually know. They've been fighting for so long, barely a second of rest since escaping the White Tower. "I can't go any further," she says instead, calm and steady and each word dropping into his ears like a stone. "I can't move fast enough. It has to be you."

"But-" he looks agonised and then says in a rush, "but they'll use you. They'll...cut you up and..." He looks sick.

She feels the same and she looks down to hide it from him. He'll never leave her if he knows how afraid she is. He'll damn the world before he leaves her to suffer this alone. She hopes he thinks it's illness and weakness causing the fine tremour she can feel running through her. She doesn't want him to know that at the last all she could do was tremble against him. A frightened pitiful girl after all.

"You can't save me," she says and she watches him take those words like a wound that goes at least as deep - and poisons him just as surely - as hers does. It will be her words she hears in his nightmares and she knows it, but if it works...She would hurt him worse to get him out of here. "You can't. Do this for me instead."

His eyes lock onto hers and she forces herself to think of nothing but those she is protecting: her sisters, her mother, even Declan (that bastard), forces herself to think of them so he will see nothing but truth shining in her eyes.

"You're my hero," he whispers, low and quick like the words are being dragged from him under torture (they are). She hands him her talisman and waterbottle. The map she has been using.

There are so many last minute whispers she wishes she had time for.

Tell my family-

I've always-

It's ok.

But in the end if she opens her mouth all that will come out is "don't leave me" so she dares not say anything and turns herself painfully to face the direction of assault and masks everything she is feeling with a low sound of pain instead.

Ethan brushes a hand once quickly through her hair. There is something on the other side of the barrier once more. It sounds bigger than the other once was and she wonders if her strength will hold.

Ethan reaches around her, an awkward hug from behind and digs a finger through her shirt and into the cut in her side. She *screams* back bowing with it and he braces her through the agony. The things on the far side, those with mouths and voices, chitter appreciatively and she feels him flinch almost as hard as her at the sadistic tone. Any hope that she had that they would just kill her drains into the dusty floor beneath her knees.

There's a metallic rattle and her talisman, along with his, lands on the ground beside her. Through the black spots still dancing in front of her vision, she sees they are smeared with thick, clotted red.

"Quick and dirty blood magic," he says by way of quick explanation and the hand against her side flattens over the wound this time. It's just as agonising, but she doesn't move away. It's the last comforting touch she can expect.

"Give me as much time as you can," and Ethan's voice is steady, calmer than hers would be. Her heart rattles against her ribs like a rabbit cornered by a fox.

And then she's alone.

Something else is scrambling up the barrier. Becky's hand fumbles for one of the talismans at her side.

Sacrificing Dialogue

Characters sacrificing themselves for... the plot.

"I won't be able to buy you that ring, but I can buy you enough time to get out of there."

"You can't hold them off alone!" "Not forever. But for now."

"Is there any plan in your brilliant head that doesn't involve one of us as a sacrifice?"

"We can't kill them! You will also die with them!" "Dying a hero would suit me well, I think."

"It's ok. I will be fine. You need to go now."

"Everyone or no one! None of us will just be left behind."

"I don't want to hear another word from you. You will not sacrifice yourself for this!"

"It's me or you. And in this case, we need you more than me."

"Don't even think about it!" "I need to do this!"

"We won't make it both. We got to choose."

"I guess one of us has to die a heroic death." "Don't be so dramatic."

"So this is probably the end for me. One kiss for a selfless man?"

"No sacrificing bullshit! It's you and I together, remember?"

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[meadowlarkx]

I really think the years of Maglor's reign as High King of the Noldor in Middle-earth (& Maedhros' captivity) are so key to his character. Maglor whose defining feature, in the end, is staying with and yielding to Maedhros, even when it's patently not a good idea anymore.

During Maedhros' captivity, the crown falls to Maglor, who has until now been safely living in the middle sibling zone far from ultimate responsibility. He's a famous minstrel, but he's never had to lead or expected it. And suddenly, for these thirty years, Maglor's left ostensibly in charge of managing things. Fëanor is dead and Maedhros is gone. The Fëanorians betrayed and abandoned Fingolfin's host and have no hope of seeing them again. Yesterday they learned about violent death and committed atrocities, and today they lost their brightest and most charismatic leaders who also happen to be Maglor's father and beloved elder brother. Now they're stranded in a new land in the dark. It must have seemed near hopeless. I think it's really interesting how 1.) Maglor is never explicitly named as king (iirc) in the Silmarillion, and 2.) There's no word (in Silm) about any moves the Fëanorian camp make during these 30 years. They're holding on, probably a difficult task in itself, but they aren't accomplishing much more than that. I imagine Maglor spends this whole period teetering on the border of despairing altogether.

What we do get of this time is that Morgoth makes them an offer—if the Fëanorians give up their Oath/leave Beleriand, he'll give them Maedhros—which the brothers, under Maglor's leadership, don't take (since Morgoth lies and the Oath is too important to renege on.) It's right after they refuse in the text that Morgoth hangs Maedhros on Thangorodrim.

Then Fingon rescues Maedhros, proving that it could be done. If Maglor hadn't already hated himself for rejecting Morgoth's offer of an exchange, for not saving Maedhros, and for failing to do more than just hold the camp together in the meantime, he's got to now. It's this sense of overwhelming, loving debt and guilt towards Maedhros, I think, and fear of feeling lost (& fully responsible) without him again, that dominate Maglor's actions from then on. He places his trust in Maedhros' leadership, relieved Maedhros can make the final decisions now. How can he really trust himself when he was wrong before? And he places his hopes in redeeming himself to Maedhros. Maglor, without any apparent opposition whatsoever (I would say gratefully), hands the crown back to Maedhros—and promptly on Maedhros' bidding (again without any noted opposition—I would say eagerly) goes to the most dangerous region of Beleriand to be the first line of defense against an invasion. (And then he "fails" Maedhros again by losing the Gap in the Bragollach.)

When Maglor is right in their conversation about stealing the Silmarils, of course it's hard for him to stick to it. He's used to trusting Maedhros more than himself. He owes Maedhros his loyalty for those horrible years of inaction. And probably most of all, he doesn't want to be alone, without Maedhros again, adrift and hopeless.

[edenmemes]

resident evil village starters

❝ oh, keep growing! one day your head might actually fit your ego. ❞   ❝ running will get you nowhere. ❞     ❝ you don’t have to trust my words, but do you have any better options? ❞   ❝ you shouldn’t be out here. it’s not safe. ❞   ❝ i know you don’t like to talk about it, but can we really just forget everything and pretend it didn’t happen? ❞   ❝ well, what do you think? it’s hopeless, right? ❞ ❝ i wish it could stay like this forever. ❞   ❝ oh, such a disappointment. i thought we could join forces.  ❞ ❝ i don’t have time for this bullshit. out of my way. ❞   ❝ i don’t give a damn about your personal issues. ❞   ❝ it’s a pleasure to see you safe. ❞   ❝ just give up. flesh and blood will never win against me. ❞ ❝ quit acting so full of yourself. ❞ ❝ the clock is ticking. playtime’s over! ❞ ❝ ohhh, don’t give up! ❞ ❝ you think you can take me on? ❞ ❝ you should have never refused me.  ❞ ❝ these are the fruits of my power.  ❞ ❝ leave it alone. you are out of your depth. ❞   ❝ i’ve learned all i can from you. your worth as a lab rat has run out. ❞   ❝ no, no, this can’t be the end for me! ❞   ❝ i can’t escape from here... i can’t do anything! ❞ ❝ what are you talking about? you think this is a game? ❞   ❝ don’t get cocky. i’d kill you if you weren’t the trouble. ❞   ❝ hey, do you know anything about what’s going on around here? ❞   ❝ i’m not used to relying on other people. ❞   ❝ you’re the real deal. well done.  ❞ ❝ i gotta...keep going. ❞   ❝ i think it’s time you left things in my hands. ❞   ❝ my power is leaving me! ❞   ❝ do me a favor... try to stay under the radar. ❞ ❝ you don’t get it. you don’t stand a chance by yourself. ❞ ❝ alright, alright. i guess i owe you an explanation. ❞ ❝ you must be pretty tough, huh? ❞   ❝ all your power’s done is drive you nuts. ❞   ❝ i gotta say, i’m surprised you made it this far. it’d be a shame if something happened to you now. ❞   ❝ so you finally came to see me! everyone falls for me in time. ❞   ❝ it’s all i can spare. take it, take it! ❞   ❝ you’ve got fight, i’ll give you that. ❞   ❝ i didn’t want to keep it from you. i didn’t want to lose you again. ❞   ❝ i’d kill you if you weren’t worth the trouble. ❞   ❝ is there something you’re not telling me? come on, talk to me. ❞   ❝ you can hear it, can’t you? someone’s waiting for you. ❞   ❝ oh, careful what you wish for. ❞   ❝ i don’t want to die. oh, it hurts so much. ❞   ❝ don’t look at me that way. ❞   ❝ i told you to sit down. ❞   ❝ you’re the reason ___ doesn’t love me. ❞   ❝ hey, kiss me? ❞   ❝ if it’s for you, i would do anything. ❞   ❝ come on, it’s not that much further! ❞   ❝ you’re the only one to see me in this form. ❞   ❝ ugh, my temper got away from me. ❞   ❝ play with me some more. ❞   ❝ trying to get on my good side? ❞   ❝ i don’t know if it’s the scent of the flowers, but i feel light headed. ❞   ❝ in all my years, i’ve never been this overjoyed. ❞   ❝ look forward to what i have in store for you. ❞   ❝ mmm, that smells good. what’s that? ❞   ❝ you really should have taken my deal. ❞ ❝ truth hurts, don’t it?  ❞ ❝ i’ve waited so long. but dreams really can come true. ❞   ❝ you coward! come out and face me. ❞   ❝ quit hiding, asshole. i’m not letting you get out of this.  ❞ ❝ i won’t let you have it. even if you beg. ❞   ❝ this is my territory, and i won’t let you leave. ❞   ❝ damn, i’m so cold. my legs won’t work. ❞   ❝ local wine, too. but if you’re going to keep sulking all evening, maybe you shouldn’t have any. ❞ ❝ it’s not paranoia if they’re really out to get you. ❞   ❝ you’re the last asshole in my way, aren’t you? ❞   ❝ well, at least we’re together. ❞   ❝ hey, now. think positively, all right? we talked about this. ❞   ❝ come now, don’t be shy. show me your terror. ❞   ❝ i would’ve sliced you to ribbons if they hadn’t stopped me. ❞   ❝ it’s only a riddle if you don’t know the answer. ❞   ❝ shouldn’t we face what happened there so we can live our lives without it hanging over our heads? ❞   ❝ rest while you can, because i will hunt you, and i will break you. ❞   ❝ this village is full of monsters. we can’t fight them! there’s too many. ❞   ❝ a dead body? wait...there’s more... ❞   ❝ you’re a lot like your father, you know. ❞   ❝ it barely flinched when i shot it. i feel like it’s toying with me. ❞   ❝ it’ll be fine. it’ll be fine. it’ll be fine. ❞   ❝ listen. you’re being played.  ❞ ❝ too bad you’ll pay for it...with your life. ❞   ❝ please won’t you stay with me? forever? ❞   ❝ you are lucky to die before your child. ❞   ❝ quiet now, child! adults are talking. ❞   ❝ there’s nothing wrong with my memory. you’re just being paranoid. ❞   ❝ this is...this is just too much. ❞   ❝ awww, you’re blushing. ❞   ❝ how can a man be ‘almost’ dead? that’s a question for the wise. ❞   ❝ what kind of sick medieval shit is this? ❞   ❝ i’ve spent a lifetime creating this moment...and you try to take it away from me? ❞   ❝ i’m sick of fighting you! ❞   ❝ why didn’t you fucking tell me right away? ❞ ❝ shut your damn hole and don’t be a sore loser! ❞   ❝ but i’m not paranoid, i’m just cautious. ❞   ❝ don’t get close to me when i’m cooking, babe. ❞   ❝ anyone who is anyone has heard of the likes of you. ❞   ❝ i haven’t cut open a man in a while. ❞   ❝ we moved here so that you wouldn’t have to deal with any of that, remember? ❞   ❝ why? why would you do this? ❞   ❝ i knew you would want to be involved. and this job is hard enough without civilians getting in the way. ❞ ❝ oh? you have something to say? ❞   ❝ tell me what’s out there! ❞   ❝ you’re still alive...? impressive. ❞   ❝ hey, are you listening? hey! ❞   ❝ exactly how much do you plan on annoying me? ❞   ❝ oh, no. they’re coming! ❞   ❝ do you have a gun? please tell me you have a gun. ❞   ❝ it’s not---nevermind. i’m sorry. ❞   ❝ drunk or not, you are welcome---and safe---in here. ❞   ❝ you know how to push my buttons. ❞   ❝ hey, don’t i get a say in this? ❞   ❝ you wouldn’t know proper manners if it slapped you in the face. ❞   ❝ i won’t forgive you, you bastard! ❞   ❝ why...why do you treat me the same as them? am i not your favourite? am i not special? ❞   ❝ at night, i hear wailing, as if ghosts roam the halls. ❞   ❝ quit your whining; we’re almost there! ❞   ❝ i’m afraid you can’t return to your old world any longer. ❞   ❝ how dare you bare your teeth at me. ❞   ❝ you couldn’t save them. they were already gone. ❞   ❝ in life and death, we give glory. ❞   ❝ can you even understand that humiliation?  ❞ ❝ even i can get angry. ❞   ❝ what the hell is that thing? ❞ ❝ we will meet again soon. ❞ ❝ let’s just say parts of the human imagination are better left alone. ❞ ❝ some treasures still lurk in this village. ❞ ❝ my decision is final. there will be no argument. ❞   ❝ everyone leaves me. even you. ❞   ❝ there is no safe! every sorry bastard out there has been ripped in half! ❞   ❝ come inside. the others are waiting. ❞   ❝ come with me. there’s something i have to tell you. ❞   ❝ what the hell is wrong with this place? ❞   ❝ the strong will destroy the weak. that’s the way of the world. ❞   ❝ no, we’re getting out of here --- together. ❞   ❝ but what i saw was...frightful. ❞ ❝ i suppose it’s what they call ‘the beauty of the grotesque’. ❞   ❝ you taught me so much and for that i will be forever in your debt. ❞   ❝ it is my curiosity that ties me to this place. ❞   ❝ please let me know if you’d like to strengthen your weapons. ❞ ❝ you’ll pay if i find out this is a lie. ❞ ❝ speaking of foolish questions, who --- what are you? ❞   ❝ if i don’t kill them then my life will never be my own. ❞   ❝ you are abominable. your deceit knows no bound. ❞   ❝ quit holding out, and get to the damn point! ❞ ❝ you’re the one who’s cursed. ❞ ❝ i hope you will be able to achieve your goal someday, too. ❞   ❝ that is why i had to leave you. i will regret never telling you goodbye. ❞   ❝ if i had but a little more time, i know i might be able to turn the tides of this battle. ❞   ❝ i can hear it shuffling about outside. ❞   ❝ and now you even try to steal my property? how dare you? ❞   ❝ ugh, just another simple little manthing. ❞   ❝ oh, good. i was just thinking of ways to pass the time. ❞ ❝ nowhere to go but up. ❞   ❝ where are you? show yourself! ❞ ❝ not without me, it’s too dangerous. ❞ ❝ shit, that was close. ❞   ❝ i heard explosions. what happened? ❞ ❝ you’ve dirtied my dress! ❞   ❝ you’re my daughter...now act like it! ❞   ❝ i don’t think we will make it through winter at this rate. ❞   ❝ the wounds are severe. i won’t last much longer. ❞   ❝ will you please stop talking in riddles? ❞   ❝ goddamn. it really is you. ❞ ❝ you sure of this? your body is, well, falling apart. ❞       ❝ how long have i been out? ❞   ❝ keep your distance. do not move until i give the order. ❞   ❝ i’ve got a tough guy here, i need some back-up! ❞   ❝ if my mom saw this shit, she’d think she’d died and gone to hell. ❞   ❝ shut your fucking hole! ...sorry about that. ❞   ❝ who are you? who sent you? ❞   ❝ please, be well. ❞   ❝ there’s more than we thought. watch out. ❞ ❝ to hunger...is to be alive. ❞   ❝ goddammit! why is everyone dying on me? ❞   ❝ hey! hey. don’t talk like that. ❞   ❝ my word, you truly are as strong as they say! ❞   ❝ don’t you love me? ❞   ❝ oh, you didn’t think i’d let you get away, did you? ❞   ❝ taken alive? dead? which would you prefer? ❞  

[violetarks]

"i want to see her."

anime: tokyo revengers

characters: sano 'mikey' manjiro, mitsuya takashi

summary: the hospital is somewhere y/n hated. she has a history there.

warnings: spoilers and same warnings like always, major manga spoilers, and im so sorry for the last chapter LSNDOENFOE I HOPE YOURE PREPARED FOR FUTURE CHAPTERS, masterlist here

taglist: @chaoticyuna @eriskaitto @kenmas-xbox @chosoisbaby @lagrimasdeglitter @kamikoii @achoomoos @netzukochannn @tomanprincess @ultraviolencezs @i4ran (unable to be tagged)

The two sat there outside the hospital room, slumped against the wall with such sluggishness that nobody has ever seen from Toman's Commander and Vice Commander.

"Ms Sano's head was fractured and there had been intense internal bleeding. We did try everything we could, and we began surgery as quick as possible, but the damage was already too far gone by the time we assessed the situation." The doctor stands in the middle of them, looking up from her clipboard to see the states they were in. Lifeless. Hopeless. "I'm very sorry for your loss. And I'm sorry we weren't able to do more for her."

The doctor gives a nod, closing her eyes and holding her position. She's waiting to hear what these kids say to her in response. But she's met with silence, so she lifts herself up and walks a few feet away.

She looks to the other doctor beside her, who shakes his head. He leans closer and whispers out, "That was Hanemiya Y/N, the sister of the boy a few years back that passed away a few years go, on Halloween." The woman widens her eyes at the statement, straightening her shoulders. "You tried to treat Hanemiya Kazutora and Baji Keisuke back then. Do you remember?"

Of course she remembered. She had so many young kids come into the hospital asking about Baji and Kazutora, if they were alive and well. She was the one to tell them that they were both gone. But how could she forget that face? Y/N's face?

Of when she heard that her brother was truly gone.

Because that was the same face Y/N was wearing now, sitting in the corner, all alone and jacket doused in blood.

The head doctor turns her head to look to Y/N. She's refused to get washed up, even though she was still covered in her sister's blood.

She was rushing.

And she was careless.

The doctor furrows her brows at Draken and Y/N.

"What happened to these children?"

The light in Draken's eyes was gone. He looked devoid of any feeling, truly, with how blank and meaningless his stare seemed. He wasn't paying attention to what the doctors were saying to the both of them. All he heard was 'too much bleeding' and 'gone by the time they arrived'. His heart was a hollow cave. He should care. He should listen so he knows what's right and what's wrong.

But now, everything felt meaningless. Since Emma was gone.

She had been announced dead hours ago, a few minutes after they had entered the hospital. Y/N had nearly crashed her bike while trying to get Emma to safety, the older girl on her back as she drove hastily. She took wrong turns and went down the opposite streets. She had no idea where she was going. But she knew one thing.

Y/N was going to save Emma.

She still had that hope in her system.

But she didn't end up doing that.

Draken was driving behind her, staring at Emma's body. He had come close to messing up his own bike while being distracted. His eyes were on Emma, because he knew for sure what was going on then. He just couldn't tell Y/N. He didn't have the heart to, not when Y/N said all those things about the future that was supposed to be their happy ending.

She just kept telling Draken that Emma was cold, and that they needed to get her someplace warm.

She sat opposite Draken, on the other side of the hall with her head leaning against the wall beside her. Her eyes were red and she held onto Emma's scarf in her hands. Tight. The snow on her shoulders and hair had melted already, nobody there to wipe it away.

The two felt empty. They felt nothing.

Not without Sano Emma there to brighten their day.

What was there without that light?

Takemichi had arrived with Chifuyu, Mitsuya and Mikey. The First Division Captain was the first to run inside, all frantic as he searched for Y/N and Draken in the waiting room.

The group found them, all quiet and still in their own separate seats. Takemichi had approached Draken first, speaking lowly as Chifuyu stood behind him.

Mitsuya didn't know what to say.

He had gotten the news from reports popping up on their phones about a said shooting around Emma's work. He called Draken and he explained the situation dully. Mikey is walking into the room where Emma lays, blanket pulled up over her shoulders.

"Draken..." Takemichi breathes out, on his knees with a solemn look on his face, "What the Hell happened to Emma?"

The taller man only stares more blankly at the floor. Takemichi furrows his brows, but doesn't push any further. Chifuyu places a hand on Draken's shoulder.

"Y/N." Mitsuya calls, standing in front of her. She keeps her eyes low, shadow covering her face. "Tell me what they did." He hesitantly reaches out and cradles her face in his hands. "Did they hurt you? Or Draken?"

But she emits the same response as Draken did to Takemichi. Chifuyu shakes his head at the question, having heard the conversation. Mitsuya furrows his brows with a sigh leaving his lips, stepping forward and holding Y/N's head against his stomach. He brushes fingers against her cheek, whispering things that Y/N herself couldn't hear.

There was only white noise around.

"It's okay." He says, closing his eyes and brushing his thumb against the back of her head, "It's going to be alright."

Y/N stills, as rigid as ever.

It makes him hurt more, because it feels as if all of the progress they had made with Y/N had been destroyed. Everything from Kazutora and Baji's death, all the getting closer to Y/N and having her be okay with being held and touched. It was all washed away.

Mitsuya holds her a little closer, a gentle kiss on the top of her head. He whispers out, "You're okay."

He looks over to Draken.

"You're both going to be okay." He informs them, Takemichi and Chifuyu agreeing.

Mitsuya knits his brows. He watches Draken carefully. This guy has lost his love, and Mitsuya really can't imagine it. Draken was always the strong and collected one, so it was strange seeing him like this. The guy who had always been there for Mitsuya and everyone else.

He holds onto Y/N a little tighter.

This is their lowest point.

Mikey stands there in front of his little sister.

"Emma..." He mumbles out himself, hoodie thrown carelessly on and his hair messy.

He looked disoriented, like he didn't understand what was happening in that moment.

He finds himself unable to cry. Because he's so full of anger and remorse that he can't. He holds his fists tightly at his sides, shoulders shaking at the sight of his sister, his little sister, laying on that bed. Dead. Unmoving. She was always smiling.

And now, she looked peaceful.

How could Mikey deal with himself, when his little sister looked so blissful?

She forgave him for leaving. He was forgiven that night he came back, and Emma even said it herself. But he was never set right with it all. Now, he'll never know if she was truly alright with him. And that was going to haunt him for the rest of his life.

He takes in a deep breath, hovering a hand over Emma's forehead but not quite letting it slowly drop.

He can't even touch her.

Mikey things to himself, that if he does touch her, she's going to go up in flames of resentment and regret. For Mikey, for anyone who had wronged her. For Mikey.

"What the Hell is this?" He mutters out to himself.

So he turns and walks out of the room, seeing his friends out there as well.

The First Division captains are watching him carefully. Because it's been a while since something like this has happened. They don't know how he'll react now. Mikey never got his own closure, either. He was still probably hung up on Shinichiro's passing. This wouldn't bode well.

All Draken, Y/N and Mikey could hear was the ticking of the clock inside the room, only showing more and more time passing.

He passes the group, walking right through them.

Mitsuya goes to say something to his friend. Since, at this point, he can't choose favourites.

It isn't right, especially in the situation where both Mikey and Y/N have lost someone close to them. He leans away from Y/N, leaving a hand on her shoulder.

He starts, "Mikey—"

"Draken. Y/N." Mikey calls, voice low but loud enough for everyone to hear. The two don't look up. "Come outside with me."

Mitsuya glances at Mikey, holding Y/N gently. She stays still for a moment before she pushes a hand against his stomach, giving her space to stand up. He's scared. "Wait." He mumbles out, but he hears Draken stand up as well.

The three walk off. Mitsuya, Chifuyu and Takemichi follow after paying their respects.

It's still snowing now. The time is 5:07 PM and the sun is still shining brightly in the air, clouds covering it from view. The scarf around Y/N's neck is now loose, both ends of the material just laying on each side of her neck.

The air tickles her face, Y/N's jacket still stained red. It was dry, but weighed so much on her.

She holds onto Emma's scarf tightly.

"What happened?" Mikey questions, looking towards both Y/N and Draken in front of him.

They don't say anything. Because they don't want to. They can't relive that memory so close to the hour it actually happened.

Mikey takes a deep breath in.

And launches a swift and harsh kick into the side of Draken's head.

Takemichi widens his eyes at the scene from his spot at the hospital's entrance.

""Holy shit..." He whispers out, both Chifuyu and Mitsuya gasping at the scene. The three of them stood under the roof, out in the cold as Y/N, Draken and Mikey spoke in the snow.

The Vice Commander doesn't go to defend himself, only falling on his knees at the attack. His shoulders shake before he settles in his spot. He lands with no sound escaping him, no reaction at all. He doesn't feel it as much as he should, because he won't allow himself to. Y/N doesn't react either.

Mikey, with a calm and voided expression, stares at his best friend.

He questions, "How could you let this happen? The both of you?" But he's only ever keeping his eyes on the taller guy. Because a part of him doesn't want to acknowledge Y/N behind him at the moment.

He glares at Draken, such anger throbbing in his head that he can't bring himself to move.

He wants to yell and scream.

Because Emma loved this boy.

With everything in her being.

She loved him so much that she trusted him enough to protect her.

"Hey, Draken..." Mikey mutters out. He finally wills himself to look up to the guy, from his gaze from the ground. His fists are shaking. And he lets his fury out. "What the fuck were you doing, you piece of shit?"

His hand grips the front of Draken's shirt, his other one balling into a tight fist.

"It was all my fault, Mikey."

He stops for a moment, unable to look at the girl.

But she's speaking. Loudly.

Y/N is doing that because she knows if she spoke softly, Mikey would ignore her. She needs to fight to get his attention. She has to find some way for him to spot.

Her brows are knitted as she focusing on the material in her hand. She states, "Emma was going to unlock the back door of the shop, and I just allowed her to do so. She was alone, and I vowed to protect her. I... I failed to saved your sister."

Mikey clenches his jaw.

Y/N bows, hands on her knees as she closes her eyes. She's apologising. And she looks so pained to do so.

Mitsuya holds his breath at the sight. She shouldn't be doing that. Acting all apologetic.

"So please!" She shouts, voice breaking that little bit. Mikey widens his eyes. "If you're going to be mad at anyone, take it out on me! You have no reason to hurt Draken!"

The Vice Commander is hearing all of this. But he's frozen and he can't say anything against it. Even though he knows it's wrong for Y/N to take all the heat. She's the Commander. And she's taking all the responsibility for the death of Emma.

She clenches her hands at her side, standing up straight.

"I promise I'll give you a good fight!"

At first, Mitsuya thinks that Mikey won't listen.

Because even after all of this, if it was somehow Y/N's fault, Mikey loved her. Love ruled over all violence and hate. All the time. It was better to care than to break. Mikey had to know that.

But then, the ex-leader turns around lifting up a foot and shooting it towards Y/N. She closes her eyes, bringing up her arms to block and ready herself.

The hits pushes her to the side, skidding against the floor. Emma's scarf is held tightly in her palms. When she stops moving, she wobbles on her feet before steadying herself.

She's never had those nuclear kicks aimed at her before.

But somehow, she knows he's holding back. No way she would've been able to block that.

She lets out a sigh, dropping her arms before seeing Mikey walk towards her. Y/N takes a moment to begin to dodge. He isn't taking his time, and she realises that.

"Didn't you continue Toman because you wanted to protect all of us?" Mikey shouts, launching another punch towards thin air as Y/N steps out of the way, "Isn't that why you took up the role as Commander?"

"Mikey, get a hold of yourself." Draken says, taking hold of his wrist and pulling him back. His voice sounds dull.

"Shut the Hell up!" Mikey growls, elbowing his best friend in the face. He throws a kick towards Draken's shoulder, to which he takes with such laziness. Y/N can feel bruises forming on her arm. "You've been here for the longest! You've been the Vice Commander for so many years! Toman's grown so fucking much! Why let that happen if you can't handle it?"

He aims a punch to Y/N's cheek. She furrows her brows before ducking under, arms snaking around his waist and tackling him to the ground. He lands on his back with as huff as Draken lifts himself up, hand going to the side of his cheek, where he was about to start bruising.

"Y/N... Mikey..." Mitsuya mutters out.

He begins to move forward.

Somehow, it feels like that Halloween all over again.

He's never fully understood how Y/N felt in that moment. Sure, he had lost two, realistically three, of his best friends. But Y/N had lost a boyfriend, a brother who she had only seen for the first time in years, and a childhood friend. But here he was.

Here Mitsuya was, going to stop the fight.

Draken is off to the side, holding his bleeding cheek as he kept his eyes low. Y/N was straddling Mikey, holding his wrists as he struggles against her in agony and frustration. Chifuyu, Takemichi and Mitsuya are sitting there, like an audience.

He takes another step forward. But a hand pulls him back.

"Wait, Mitsuya." Chifuyu says, shaking his head. He can see the pleading in his friend's eyes. "This is the only time they can figure it out. Maybe this is the closure that Y/N and Mikey need."

Takemichi is at Draken's side, handing him a few tissues and checking if he's okay. Mitsuya is staring at Y/N, who gets headbutted by the guy below her. She recoils for a second before furrowing her brows and grasping Mikey's wrists again. Her head is bleeding.

"Y/N needs to figure herself out." Chifuyu claims, letting go of Mitsuya, "With the brawl, Emma's passing and Baji and Kazutora's death anniversaries being a few weeks ago, she's got too much on her mind. She needs time to make a decision."

He glances over to Mikey. "Last time, her choice was made for her, and look how that turned out. Let's give Y/N the chance to take back her life." Chifuyu offers.

Mitsuya slouches his shoulders. "You're right." He sighs.

Mikey tries to lift his wrist, restrained by Y/N. "She trusted you!" He yells, feeling his eyes beginning to sting. He grabs Y/N's scarf, pulling her down as he leans up on his elbow.

They're nose to nose, and he is furious. "She relied on you to be there and help, just as she did for you! For all these years!" Mikey shouts, nearly shaking her, "She didn't even live a good life yet! But she was getting better, Emma was—"

"She relied on you too!" Y/N shouts back, pulling on his wrist to let go.

She was just as frustrated as Mikey was.

"You left us, Mikey! When will you fucking realise that you could've helped us?" She argues, knitting her brows and glaring at him. He lifts his chin. She's raring with anger. "Emma was heartbroken when you didn't come back, and I was trying!"

She points towards Mitsuya, Chifuyu and Takemichi, who are surprised by the sudden attention. "Everyone was trying!" Y/N exclaims, both hands now grabbing at his collar, "Emma still loved you, even after all of that, and she was the happiest I had ever seen when her whole family was finally together in one place! All she's ever wanted was that!"

She pokes a finger into his chest, her scarf getting tugged off her neck by him. "That's why I let you stay!" She claims, face burning up.

Mikey's eyes widen a little more. Even though he already knew that.

She jabs him chest again, voice erupting in loud bursts. "Because Emma wanted to see her brother again and I let her! I let her talk to her brother, and hug him and spend all the time she's ever wanted with him!" She states. Sometimes Mikey forgets how much Kazutora's juvie time hurt her. "You should never split up family who want to stay together, and no matter how fucking much I wanted to kick your ass out, I let you stay for Emma! To make up for how much of a dickhead you were!"

Y/N lives through Emma.

She always has.

Ever since she moved in with her and found out more about her life.

Emma was the prettiest girl she's ever known. She was popular and nice and driven. Y/N gifted Emma all she could. That's why she always had a pretty new outfit for a date with Draken, or a dinner reservation for her and Hina when Y/N had work. She paid for all of that and loved to do it. Since it made her happy.

The reason Y/N gave Emma everything she had ever wanted, was because she wanted to give the older girl the life she wish she had.

She lived through Emma.

Even though Y/N hated it, she saw a little of herself and Kazutora in the relationship Mikey and Emma had. The protective, funny older brother, and the ditzy, fun-loving little sister. When he came back, she only wanted to focus on Emma and how she reacted.

Because maybe there was a chance that Y/N was going to act the same way when Kazutora met up with her after his juvie years.

And perhaps there was a chance that Y/N would've ended up the same way as Emma, if the Valhalla fight didn't happen.

Y/N doesn't know which one she would prefer.

But Mikey still blames himself for everything she felt. He knows this fucked up world isn't only because of Y/N's leadership, but because of his influence.

She shouts, knocking her fists against his chest, "If it wasn't for her, you'd be the fuck out of here! Don't say Emma didn't live a good life, because if you were really concerned about that, you would've stayed and helped!"

Then, she grabs the front of his jacket, frantically pulling him up as Mikey watches her. She huffs out, "I'm sorry! But we did everything we could, and it... it still wasn't..."

"What happened to her?" Mikey questions, staring at Y/N. Because no matter how correct she may be, he still lost his sister. And he didn't even know what went on, because he was to busy ordering drinks and food. "What the Hell happened to everything? Everyone is gone! Baji is dead, I killed Kazutora, everyone's lives are in fucking danger, and now Emma's—"

"She was cold!" Y/N calls, the snow falling onto the back of her head as she towers over Mikey. He stops, taking a deep breath in and out. "Emma was cold, and I swear to fucking God, Manjiro, I did everything!"

She holds onto the front of her shirt. Acting kind of desperate for an excuse or an explanation. "I did everything right!" She claims, looking frantic, "I made sure that everyone was strong in Toman and that delinquents had a new era! Everyone was happy and they were at their peak!"

Mikey holds the air in his lungs. Y/N's expressed how he's worthless for leaving and all the trouble he's caused for her. But she's never did say how much pressure she had on her shoulders to make everything so perfect. Ideal.

Y/N grips onto his shoulders. She seems to be losing her composure. "So why the Hell did everything go wrong?" She asks, "I tried, Mikey, and she was—she was gone by the time we got here! Emma..."

Y/N's losing her composure. So much that she is now slumping. Mikey, who is sitting up, knits his brows with a frown. His eyes are pricking his tears, but not quite falling. He hesitantly places his hands on Y/N's arms. The least bit of comfort.

"It's all my fault, Mikey. I know she wanted everything to go well, and for all of us to be happy. I really tired to do that for her, believe me." She sighs, lowering her head in such shame, "But I couldn't... even save her. I can't do anything. Just... back to where I was when I started."

She feels as if she's gotten nowhere.

Mikey doesn't want to yell at her anymore. He rests a hand on the top of her head, the other once rubbing her arm. He's the most angry at himself.

This is what he left here at home.

"I sometimes forget that you're still a teenager." He sighs out, closing his eyes, "You act so mature that I think you're my age. But... you haven't even graduated high school yet. You're the youngest out of all of us, and also the Commander of Toman. I shouldn't have out this on you. Or Kenny."

Y/N doesn't say anything to that, only closing her eyes and lifting herself from Mikey.

"It's all my fault." She mumbles quietly.

Mikey knows that Kazutora and Y/N are two different people, that was obvious.

But they had so many ways in which they were easy to identify. Although their humour and protectiveness for the other was identical, one of the things that helped differentiate the two was their guilt. Or rather, who they pinned it on.

Kazutora's mindset made it so that he was never the guilty one. Perhaps it was the way his mother had approached things and how he had learnt it from her. He couldn't handle the pressure of facing what he's done. Every time he did when he was little, it was a punch and a slap and being locked outside.

He was scared.

But Y/N, on the other hand, had created this perception of herself that she was the one behind everything. It was her responsibility for everything. Maybe it was because any of her parents' inconveniences was somehow tied back to her as a child. And she's believe it, no matter how ridiculous.

Her fear of giving someone too much that they'll run away with it, made her afraid.

"Just don't let Emma down." Mikey says, sitting up and helping Y/N do so. She wipes her face. "She really loves you, y'know? Has ever since Kazutora introduced you to her. Pretty sure you're second to Draken."

That only makes Y/N shake a little more.

Because she's only finally realised that maybe Emma needed her just as much as she did. The reason Emma had become better and decided to get a job and such, was because she didn't want to put too much on Y/N. While the leader believed that she needed to do all that so that Emma would stay. But Emma would've stayed regardless.

Except now.

Mikey knows that Emma loves him as well. But probably not as much as she loved Y/N, considering everything.

Draken drags himself over, nudging Takemichi back. Chifuyu gestures the Division Captain back over to their spot. Mitsuya's eyes are carefully set on Y/N.

The three of them were in that one spot. Y/N, suddenly feeling exhaustion from the whole day set in, falls back and faces the sky. The sun was setting. Her eyes burned. She brought her hands up and covered her face.

"Shit... Emma..." She grumbles to herself, furrowed brows. Her lips tug into a frown. "What am I going to do?"

The three are silent.

Draken doesn't know what to say to her. Because while she was usually the one he babysat, he didn't even know what they were meant to do now either. In three days, it would be Christmas Eve. And their brawl would be due. How were these three supposed to fight if they were like this?

Mikey runs fingers through his loose, dark hair. He just came back, and got to spend a little time with Emma. His grown up little sister. Who will always stay 18. Mikey was terrible. Everything was terrible.

"Move in with us, Draken." Y/N sighs out, blinking at the clouds. Nothing really mattered. Those clouds could move all they wanted and Y/N wouldn't do anything.

Draken mumbles, "Why would I do that?"

"Because me and Mikey live together. And we're all fucked up at the moment." She retorts, rubbing the tears out of her eyes, "God fucking knows what we're going to do over the next few days. Emma's not... gonna' be there now. We're not gonna' last."

"You three aren't going to be alone." A voice chimes.

Y/N looks up. Mitsuya, Takemichi and Chifuyu. They all have tears in their eyes, red and wiping them away. Mitsuya kneels down and places a hand on Y/N's head. "We'll all stay over." He goes on, "Nobody should be alone right now."

He helps Y/N sit up, setting himself beside her. He leaves her some space. "Now, I know we still have to tell Toman. But we need to clear some things up." Mitsuya claims, rubbing his head, "This is going to sound insensitive of me, but are you guys going to be okay with the fight with Clair de Lune? If not, we can handle it. I don't want you all going out there when you aren't alright."

Mikey takes a deep breath in, straightening his back. He then gives a smile. Like nobody would've guessed that he had just seen his sister's dead body. "I'll be fine. I think a fight is what I need." He says, looking up to the sky. Somewhere, Emma is telling him not to get too rowdy and to take care of himself.

"Emma said that she was excited to see us win." Draken huffs, voice a little gruff as he plays with his fingers. For such a tall man, he looked really small at the moment. "If we ever lost this fight, I wouldn't forgive myself. I'm fighting for her."

Chifuyu gives a nod. Takemichi sends the two of them a reassuring smile. How could they be so strong.

"I'm kicking their ass." Y/N states, holding her chin against her palm.

Mitsuya looks away.

He turns to Draken. "Did you see who did it?" He questions. But Draken only shakes his head. Mikey looks to Y/N expectantly.

She then calls, "It was Clair de Lune. The people who were there and were holding the weapon." She crosses her arms over her chest, bringing her knees to her chest. She gripped her scarf tightly. "They were from Clair de Lune, had the symbol on the back of their jackets."

Chifuyu clenches his fists and grunts, "They're done for."

Y/N nods her head, as if agreeing. "They will. I'm going to kill the Division Captains of Clair de Lune and overtake them. Then I'll find those assholes and burn them alive."

"Don't say that." Draken huffs, "You already injured one."

"Getting shot in the shoulder isn't enough to pay for what they've done." Y/N argues, glaring at her Vice Commander some more, "I don't give a damn what happens to me after, just let me get them. Emma won't rest well until they're dead."

"Would Emma want you to become a murderer?" Draken fights back, shaking his head.

She's getting more upset with him. How dare he be so reasonable at a time like this?

She wants him to let her loose. Allow her to just go wild on Toman's enemies. But somehow, she feels thankful that Draken won't let her slip, even if it is at a time like this.

After a few seconds of the two holding their ground and their stares, she closes her eyes and leans back.

"No." Y/N lets out a breath, wiping her face again, "God, I just... I want to see her."

Takemichi's phone then goes off. He glances down at his screen and then to Y/N. "It's Hina. She said she's at the front desk." He informs her.

The Commander stands up slowly, silently preparing herself for what was going to happen. Her last best friend. She needed to be okay so that she could let Hina not be. She takes a few more deep breaths in and holds up Emma's scarf.

"If you're staying at ours, get your stuff and bring it over before 10 tonight." She asks of them, rubbing her eyes, "Takashi and Manjiro have the keys. Set up in the guest rooms or the living room. Don't make a mess, I cleaned up before we left this morning."

'How could she sound so calm after fighting Mikey and losing Emma?', Mitsuya questions in his head, watching Y/N with caution.

She turns to the group of boys and gives them a pointed look. "No one is touching Emma's room." She orders, "If I see one thing of hers out of place, I'll kill you."

Mitsuya, Takemichi and Chifuyu nod. Mikey and Draken already know this. They wouldn't want her things being touched either.

"Let's go, Takemichi." She sighs out, turning and walking to the hospital entrance doors.

Draken is turning towards Mikey. The first thing that he does is lowered his head in his spot. "I'm sorry, Mikey. I'm... I'm just so fucking sorry." He says, squeezing his eyes shut, "You shouldn't forgive me. But please, don't do anything rash."

"I can't say that I won't." Mikey responds, rubbing the back of his neck. He stands up. "Let's just help Y/N."

"Agreed." Mitsuya calls, rubbing his neck, "But we'll be looking after you two as well."

Draken and Mikey keep their eyes on the floor. Sometimes, they wished that their friends weren't so caring for them. That would mean they'd spend more time looking after Y/N.

She just needed someone else to take the stress away from her.

Hina couldn't bring herself to stand in front of Emma's body. She just stayed in the doorway, hands against the frame. She uses her other palm to cover her mouth, eyes widening as she sets her gaze on her best friend.

Y/N and Takemichi round the corner, noticing the girl now outside the room, leaning against the wall with her arms wrapped around herself.

"Emma..." Hina cries, tears pouring down her cheeks. Her back is facing the two. "No... Emma!"

Takemichi glances to Y/N, about to say that he will talk to her. But he notices how she is only looking at Hina. Her eyes are blank and she doesn't show any expression. Even though she looks tired, she takes a deep breath in and walks towards Hina. Takemichi follows behind.

"Hinata." She calls.

The crying girl turns around slowly to see Y/N. Then, more tears fall. She faces her fully and huffs out, "Y/N...! I can't...!"

Y/N doesn't say anymore, only outstretching her arms to Hina. The girl falls into her embrace, hugging her tightly and crying into her shoulder. Takemichi had given Hina a brief explanation of what had happened. And she didn't blame Y/N at all.

Takemichi comes towards them a few seconds later, Hina seeing him as she peers over Y/N's shoulder. She pulls away, wiping her face. "I'm sorry, Y/N." She sobs, furrowed brows, "Emma can't be gone... She was just here before..."

The younger girl holds her breath for a few seconds before rubbing the back of Hina's shoulder. "I'm sorry too, Hinata." Y/N responds, patting her shoulder with the saddest smile Hina has ever seen on her, "Stay with Takemichi, okay? He'll take you home after this. I'll... I'll text you when we're organising everything." Hina gives a small nod. Y/N sends her small smile. "Good. I need to do something."

Hina nods her head, giving Y/N one last hug before turning to Takemichi. The boy furrows his brows before holding out a hand to stop Y/N.

"Wait. Where are you going?" He questions.

She lands her gaze on her First Division Captain. "For a drive. Tell the others to gather for an emergency meeting." She states, turning back around and walking towards the exit, "I'll be there in 30."

Takemichi gets no time to ask about it before she turns the corner.

Y/N knows the others are still talking since their bikes are parked out the front by hers. She pulls the keys from her winter jacket and sits on her bike.

After starting it, she steers out of the driveway, shooting off into the darkening sky.

She was driving fast. Faster than the speed limit.

Some people are beeping at her from their cars and shouting on the pavement. Saying 'slow the Hell down' and 'you might kill someone'. They don't know.

They don't know that she's already killed someone.

And she is going to. Kill someone. Two people.

Y/N feels the adrenaline run through her veins as she revs her engine. She's never had bad luck with driving now. She's learnt how to deal with it herself. All the twists and turns and navigating herself through the roads.

And Y/N knew where she was going first.

Not to the shrine to get ready for the meeting she would be having soon.

Not home to change and fix up some space for the rest of them.

Not to Emma's work to explain what had happened and have people apologise and give their sorrows to her.

She was going to none of those.

Y/N was heading to the overpass.

[ilikedrawingxd]

THESE TWO IN THIS AU OH MY GOSHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH, THERE WILL DEFINITELY BE A LOT OF COMPLICATIONS WITH THEIR FRIENDSHIP WHEN TIME WENT OUT AFTER HIS FAMILY WAS GONE, BUT I AM EXCITED FOR SOME DJ POV THOUGH AND STILL WONDERING ABOUT HOW HE'S DOING TOO!!!

AND DANG IT SEEMS LIKE NOOGAI CAN BE SOMEWHAT STUBBORN MAYBE, LIKE HE LITERALLY DOES WHAT HE THINKS IS RIGHT AND REFUSES TO LET ANYONE ELSE TELLING HIM WHAT TO DO LITERALLY, BY THROWING THEM OUT TO THE OUTERNET BECAUSE HE THOUGHT IT WAS FOR THE BEST TO LET THEM EXPLORE MORE AND NOT BE IN A PC FOR SO LONG

WOAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHH HUMANS AS HIS VESSELS??? THAT GENUINELY SOUNDS SO COOL NGL!!! GIVING ME THE DELTARUNE VIBES NGL- BUT THIS SOUNDS LIKE HE KNOWS EVERYTHING AT THIS POINT WITH HIM UNDERSTANDING HOW A HUMAN WORKS IN HIS EYES, BUT OFC THERE ARE SOME MISUNDERSTANDINGS TO EVERYONE ELSE'S POVS-

SO HE DOESN'T EVEN CARE ABOUT ANYONE AT ALL LITERALLY LIKE NOT CARING ABOUT VICTIM'S AND CHOSEN'S WELL BEING, BUT ONLY DOES THINGS BECAUSE HE TRULY THINKS IN HIS EYES ARE THE RIGHT THING, LIKE HE WANTS TO MAKE HIS REPUTATION GREAT AND NOT BE SEEN AS "THE BAD GUY" BECAUSE AGAIN WHATEVER HE THINKS HE ALWAYS THINKS IT'S THE RIGHT THING TO DO!!!

SO DJ DID SAVE ALAN FROM ATTEMPTING BUT THE IMAGE WILL HAUNT HIM FOREVER, HE HAS ALWAYS BEEN TOLD HE WAS A GREAT FRIEND BUT DOES HE EVEN SEES HIMSELF AS ONE IN THE MIRROR? FEELING ALL HOPELESS FROM SEEING SOMEONE YOU'RE ABSOLUTELY REALLY CLOSE TO BECOMES SOMETHING ELSE THAT HE CAN'T EVEN MAKE OUT OF... OH GOSH NOW THAT AUDIO: "you're starting to look really weird, oh yeah you're face is out of place, and I can't make you out..." AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA-

AND YES WHEN I READ THE NEXT PART THAT SEEMED LIKE A TIME SKIP WITH HOW ALAN IS ACTING WHEN DRAGGING DJ TO SHOW HIM THE CURSOR, I IMMEDIATELY KNEW SOMETHING WASN'T RIGHT, ALAN IS JUST FILLED WITH VENGEANCE AND REVENGE TO THOSE WHO HAVE DONE THOSE WRONG THINGS TO HIM, AND THINKING THAT DJ IS TAKING THEIR SIDE BECAUSE DJ DIDN'T WANT ALAN TO GO THIS FAR, HE STILL SUPPORTS HIM BUT THIS... IT REALLY SEEMED LIKE TO DJ THAT HE HAS REACHED THE LIMIT, NOW I'M STARTING TO THINK OF THAT QUOTE: "the grief doesn't go away, the grief doesn't shrink, the grief stays, and we grow." I'M THINKING A LOT OF THINGS NOW AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA-

AND OOOOOOOOO DJ SCREEN TIME ON HOW HE'S DOING RN? NOW I AM GETTING MORE CURIOUS ABOUT HIS PRESENCE AND WONDER IF HE WILL ENCOUNTER THE OTHERS!!! GUESS WE'LL ALL HAVE TO SEE!!!

WHAT??? NO... OH GOSH DJ- IT JUST SOUNDS LIKE HE'S LOSING HOPE MORE AND MORE AS TIME GOES ON AT THIS POINT- OH GOSH AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA-

OH I CAN ALREADY IMAGINING THE OTHERS SHOWING SOME NEGATIVE AURA TOWARDS ATG!ALAN JUST BY WHAT HE HAS DONE IN HIS AU, AND MAYBE EVEN WHAT HE SAID OR MAYBE DONE TO DJ TOO..... I CAN ALREADY IMAGINE THE BEEF-

OH THESE FUN FACTS YESSSSSSSSSSSSSSS!!! AND YESSSSSSSSSSSSSSS CARING NOOGAI LIKE HOW HE CARES FOR HIS DJ!!! I READ THE WARM (S)NOW FANFIC THAT DROPPED TODAY AND YESSSSSSSSSSSSSSS LOVE AND ATTENTION FOR SNOW!!! HE DESERVES IT AFTER WHAT HE HAS BEEN THROUGH AND LIVING IN THE PC ALL ALONE WITH AMM- ACTUALLY NOW I'M WONDERING ABOUT AMMY IN THE AU DURING ARC 4 IS SHE EVEN OKAY- BUT HUGS FOR SNOW LET'S GOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!! I HONESTLY REALLY LOVE THE AA COMICS AND FANFICS THEY WARM MY HEART A LOT WITH THESE WHOLESOME AND SILLY AND FUNNY AND ETC MOMENTS AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA-

I SOMEWHAT FEEL FOR RANKING THEM BECAUSE I TRULY ALSO LOVE ALL THE AUS YOU MAKE BUT I JUST GOTTA- SNOW IS THE FIRST AU I EVER DISCOVERED WHICH IS HOW I FOUND Y'ALL IN THE FIRST PLACE, NOOGAI SEEMS SO INTERESTING TO ME AND HIS AU AND LOVE HIS CARING SIDE, VEE IS JUST LITERALLY RELATABLE TO ME SINCE I'M ALSO 15 AS WELL ACTUALLY- AND I LOVE HIM SMM I WOULD BE HIS FRIEND!!! WE'RE HAVING SOFT TACOS LATER VEE COME ON!!!

AND AWWWWWWWWHHHHHHHHH THEY STAY IN THE AA HOUSE FOR US TO ENJOY ALL OF THEIR MOMENTS TOGETHER, BUT OFC AT SOME POINT THEY WILL ALL HAVE TO RETURN TO THEIR OWN AUS AND CONTINUE ON WITH THEIR OWN LIVES!!! (while Ink!Alan is just watching all the events unfold in every single one of them!!! :333)

AND ALL YOUR OTHER AUS WILL HAVE THEIR OWN FANFICS IN AO3??? AI AU, FARMER AU- OH MY GOSHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH YESSSSSSSSSSSSSSS!!! EEEEEEEEKKKKKKKKK!!!!!!!!! KABKJAKABKJBKAKJABAJBLBALJBALBJABLABJBAJLBJLBJA- TAKE ALL YOUR TIME ON IT OFC SINCE FROM SEEING YOUR OTHER POST, YOU AND JM HAVE A HUGE AHH LIST TO DO RN BUT KEEP UP THE GREAT WORK OFC!!! I CAN'T WAIT TO GET TO KNOW THEM ALL BETTER TOO!!! :DD

AND SNOW NOOOOOOOOOO HE SERIOUSLY NEEDS HIS DJ TO REUNITE I SWEAR OH MY GOSHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH- AND HONESTLY I AM ALSO WORRIED THAT THE RESET VICTIM DID ON HIM IN ARC 4 WILL JUST EITHER COMPLETELY RESET HIS MEMORIES OF SOMETHING, SO HE WON'T REMEMBER HIS HUMAN LIFE AND JUST CONTINUES LIVING AS A STICK OH MY GOSH- BUT KOM!DJ WILL APPEAR THERE? OH HECK YEAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!! ALL THE ALAN'S WILL DEFINITELY SURROUND HIM FOR SURE!!! WONDER HOW THEY WILL REACT TO HIM MERGING THE BLOCK IN HIS CHEST THOUGH WHEN THEY SEE IT-

AND OH IT'S SOMETHING ANGSTY FOR MY INK!ALAN, WAS GONNA DO SOME SORT OF COMIC BUT MAYBE JUST MAKE IT AS AN ACTUAL ART INSTEAD!!! >XDDD

DANG I'LL BE YAPPING A LOT-

OH MY GOSHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH CHAPTER 3 OF ATG ALAN LET'S GOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!! WOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!!!!!!!

FIRST OF ALL NOT THE LITTLE INTRO OF HOW ALAN'S LIFE WAS PEACEFUL AND CONTENT TO THE POINT HE WOULD WANT TO RELIVE IT A LOT IF HE COULD, UNTIL IT WAS SWITCHED TO HOW HE'S LITERALLY GOING THROUGH THE FIVE STAGES OF GRIEF AFTER HIS FAMILY IS GONE AND DJ WAS PROBABLY ALL HE HAD LEFT BUT STILL SHUTS HIMSELF AWAY FROM HIM, DJ TRYING HIS BEST TO AT LEAST TAKE CARE OF HIM BUT RECEIVES NO RESPONSE IT SEEMS LIKE- OH MY GOSH DJ IS GOING THROUGH IT AS WELL IN HIS OWN WAY TOO OFC

DANG THAT SEEMED LIKE A CHILL CONVERSATION BETWEEN NOOGAI WITH VICTIM AND CHOSEN, AND HE KNOWS AND THOUGHT THAT IF HE CONTROLLED ALEX TO GET THEM AWAY FROM THE COMPUTER BECAUSE HE THOUGHT THEY WERE ENSLAVED??? I EVEN GASPED AT THAT PART NGL BUT I FEEL LIKE THERE ARE SOME OR A FEW MISUNDERSTANDINGS GOING ON RN, AND NOOGAI JUST CAUSALLY WALKS AWAY LIKE HE DIDN'T JUST DROP THE TRUTH ON WHY HE DID IT TO THE BOTH OF THEM

OH GOSH ANGRY KING AFTER FINDING OUT ABOUT THEM FACING NOOGAI AND KEEPING THEM BOTH IN THE HOUSE FOR AWHILE WITH HIM AND PURPLE WATCHING OVER SO THEY WOULDN'T SUDDENLY SNEAK OUT PROBABLY, AND DANG IT REALLY DOES FEEL MORE DIFFERENT TO HOW SPONGEY WRITES VICTIM IN THIS AU, LITERALLY MUCH MORE CHILL THAN HOW THEY WOULD USUALLY WRITE HIM AS, BUT IT'S STILL VERY SILLY TO ME AND I LOVE IT! XDD AND AH YES, THE ELDEST BROTHER BOTHERING THEIR YOUNGER BROTHER, SUCH A CLASSIC LITERALLY!!!

AND NOOOOOOOOOO WHAT- THAT'S WHAT THE ATTEMPTED SEWERSLIDE PART IS? NOOOOOOOOOO.... OH DEAR GOSH NOOOOOOOOOO.... DJ LITERALLY HAVING TO EXPERIENCE ALAN CUTTING HIS WRISTS A LOT IF THAT'S WHAT IT WAS WHILE BEING IN A OVERFILLED BATHTUB WITH A LOT OF HIS OWN BLOOD, THE DETAILS WRITING OF DJ'S PERSPECTIVE OF HAVING TO SEE HIS OWN BEST FRIEN- NO- BEST BROTHER TURN INTO SOMEONE HE NEVER THOUGHT HE WOULD TURN INTO EVER IN HIS LIFE... HIM LOOKING AT THE PORTRAIT OF HOW THEY WERE BEFORE, HE MISSES HIS BROTHER, HE MISSES THE BROTHER HE ACTUALLY KNEW, INSTEAD OF SOMEONE HE NEVER KNEW IN HIS LIFE, AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA- *INHALES* AND THESE TWO HAVING A BANTER WHEN ALAN PRESENTED DJ THE CURSOR, AT FIRST IT SEEMED LIKE DJ THOUGHT THE ALAN HE KNEW WAS BACK BUT NO... LITERALLY SOMEONE MUCH MORE DIFFERENT THAN HE COULD HAVE EVER IMAGINED IN HIS LIFE, THAT ISN'T HIS ALAN... NOT ANYMORE... NOW I'M TOO CURIOUS ON WHERE DJ CURRENTLY AND ACTUALLY IS, ARE THEY STILL FRIENDS AFTER ALL THIS TIM- WAIT... THAT ONE AUDIO... "BUT I GOT TO KNOW.... ARE WE STILL FRIENDS?" AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA- THESE TWO HAVE A MUCH MORE DIFFERENT RELATIONSHIP IN THIS AU... NOW ALSO MAKES ME WONDER HOW THE ALAN ASSOCIATION WOULD THINK OF THIS NEW ALAN THAT Y'ALL HAVE CREATED...

ALSO THE LITTLE HAPPY ENDING OF THE CHAPTER OF DARK BEING MISTAKEN AS A CHILD- I CAN'T STOP LAUGHING TO THAT WHAT EVEN IS HIS HEIGHT FROM HOW Y'ALL HC HIM- I'M NOW CURIOUS ABOUT THAT A LOT SINCE I KEPT IMAGINING HIM BEING SHORTER THAN VICTIM AND CHOSEN BUT TALLER THAN SECOND- IJABKJABKJABKJAHKJAHKJAHKJAHKJAHAKJHAKJHAKJHAKAHKJHAHAKJHAHKJAHAKHJAKJHAJLAHALHAALJHALJAHKJAHKJAHAJOH-

ANOTHER YAPPING ABOUT THE ALAN ASSOCIATION

SO YOU'RE TELLING ME OJI AND HIS DJ ARE ACTUALLY BLACK AND RED??? HOW MANY SIMILARITIES DO THEY HAVE WITH CHOSEN AND DARK IN THEIR AU BECAUSE GOSH DANG- HE HONESTLY REALLY DOES LOOK LIKE HE GOT BURNT-

I CAN'T.... MY HEART WITH NOOGAI CARING ABOUT EVERYONE IN THE HOUSE BECAUSE THEY ALL REMIND HIM OF HIS OWN ALAN... IT'S MAKING ME SMILE UNCONTROLLABLY FROM SEEING THESE WHOLESOME MOMENTS, NOOGAI YOU'RE NOW MY FAVORITE!!! BUT 2ND FAVORITE, SNOW IS BASICALLY MY 1ST FAVORITE AU WHILE VEE IS MY THIRD FAVORITE, AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA THIS HEARTWARMING FANFIC AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA- OH MY GOSHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH- AND NOW I JUST LEARNED THAT THEY CAN GO BACK TO THEIR OWN REALMS? I MEAN I KNEW THEY WOULD HAVE TO GO BACK SOMEHOW BUT STILL I FIND THAT REALLY COOL!!! AND ALSO NOOGAI'S STRONG BOND WITH HIS DJ AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA- AND STOP NO- NOT THE FACT THAT SNOW IS LITERALLY THE ONLY ONE WHO CAN'T EVEN CONTACT WITH HIS OWN DJ BECAUSE... OH MY GOSH... I AM TELLING YOU I KEEP MAKING SCENARIOS OF DJ MANAGING TO GET INTO THE OUTERNET AND REUNITE WITH HIS BEST BUDDY OH MY GOSH.... (Also when I finished reading it, that made me thought about something with my Ink!Alan... Everyone caring for each other and having connections.... Huh...)

Let's go! Chapter 3!!! It's time to talk about it ^^

DJ and Alan relationship, few or more chapters are going to be a little bit angsty for DJ xD. There will be a lot of DJ Pov, Pre-Noogai and Post-Noogai here. Might get a little confusing too since the whole narrative is pretty Non-Linear, which I did on purpose LMAO.

Noogai is indeed chill, the talk with Victim and Chosen. He is pretty self-righteous, isn't he? He only believes what he wants to believe, refusing to listen to others. There is a major misunderstanding on Noogai's part since he initially thought Victim and the others were being enslaved by Alex, hence why in the first chapter they were thrown to the Outernet. It's that fact that them being thrown into the Outernet is not really important to Noogai's mission but he thought it was best for them to live in the Outernet than under a human.

We all know he has been using humans as his vessels for many years now, he of course knows how their brain works at this point. And this notion which is the humans being is vessel is me saying that, yes, he can control a human, and walk around in their body :D

We all know Noogai is here "not just potentially" HE IS a morally grey character, it is basically, killing a bunch of people for the better good. So, we know he won't exactly care about Victim and Chosen's mental wellbeing, he already did the "better good" and he'd done his job.

Alan did attempt, and DJ was the one to save him from it. It was mostly the start of Alan's descent to madness, anger and grief that DJ couldn't help him with, and it was sad for DJ to call himself a "bad friend" for not being able to help Alan with his mental health.

And I'm so happy you understood the part where Alan introduced DJ the cursor, DJ initially thought Alan was doing "better" until Alan presented the cursor weapon to him and there he realized, Alan was not getting better, he was turning for the worst...All this time DJ thought he had done something good for Alan, instead this happens.

DJ is officially still alive in the timeline with the Hollow 4's and CG, he is there somewhere. Will be shown in the next or so chapters actually :DD.

You know what, the line "Are we still friends" will soon make sense in a few chapters, I will not spoil, but mind you, DJ is going to turn for the worse (don't worry not the turning into a terrorist type) but he's not going to be having a good time.

ATG in AA, there's already some planned. Initially when i create Alan or DJ AU's i always make sure they can never overshine the others by accident. There are already notes that i had written about how ATG's relationship with the AA, and i believe it's more of an on and off. There are Alan AU's in the AA that will hate ATG if you think about it. So, we will see that the time ATG gets introduced into the AA household.

Noogai does care for the Alans in the AU, as said by the fun facts (I will be dropping those now at every AA AU post so that you guys can get to know them better!)

It's adorable you have favorites XDDD, and they are ranked too lol!

They can come back to their own worlds/realms/universe anytime they wanted actually :)), they aren't required to stay in the household but for the people who loves AA, they stay xP

Noogai and his DJ have a really close bond in the AI AU, though we only had a few comics (?) and one fanfiction, all Alan AU that i had made officially will have their own fanfiction in AO3 and all of them are under works as of the moment.

It is mostly to get to know them better :))

Snow really is the only Alan that cannot talk to his own DJ, and that leaves a bitter taste in my mouth. But who said KOM DJ won't appear in the AA household xD (spoilers!!).

And please do share me what you are thinking with your Ink Alan AU!!! :DDD - S

[messers-moony]

Hope | R.L

Paring: Remus Lupin X Wife!Potter!Reader

Summary: Life is unfair in numerous ways but it seems like it’s out to get the Potters in every way shape and form.

A part of growing up means maturing. Maturing means realizing that the world is cruel and unfair. People die every day without a reason or a why. Children are born into this world every day with love or hatred. Growing up, parents tell their kids, “Life isn’t fair”. No one had experience unfairness like Y/n Potter and Remus Lupin.

He was right there. So close, only a few feet from her arms yet so far apart in that wretched woman’s arms who held him like he was the grossest thing she’s ever touched. Those enchanting green eyes that glistened with trauma and pain. The brown hair that started to sprout from his scalp, already messy and untidy.

“No! This isn’t fair!” Y/n wailed as Remus held her tight to his chest, “I’m his biological aunt! Please!”

The Minister of Magic was merciless, “And so is Mrs.Dursley.”

“She’s a muggle! Harry is bound to be a wizard!” Y/n cried in contradiction; the feeling to vomit became relentless, “They’ll torture him. Please, you have to let me have him.”

“With your current living situation, it isn’t safe, Mrs.Lupin.”

Remus grimaced at those words, “My current living situation? Are you daft!?”

“With Mr.Lupins…” The Minister pondered, “condition, it isn’t safe for him.”

“Remus wouldn’t hurt him.” Y/n sobbed quietly, “He’s never hurt me!”

“I’m sorry, Mrs.Lupin, but Harry Potter is the safest with Mrs. and Mr. Dursley.”

The gavel was hit upon another circle of wood, adjourning the meeting as a finality. This was it. The fight was over. Harry Potter would grow up in an unloving household that wouldn’t be capable of understanding his magic. This was the epitome of unfairness. Remus’ hands were on her waist, her back to his chest while she sobbed, trying to get him to release her.

Eventually, she collapsed to a heap on the floor. Petunia and Vernon, each holding a baby watching the couple. Harry was wailing loudly, and Petunia couldn’t get him to settle down, making Y/n only cry harder. The young boy had just begun babbling nonsense due to Sirius’ hard effort to get him to say “Padfoot”. But it was that day he said his first word.

“Moo-me!” Harry yelped, and Remus could’ve sworn his heart shattered into a thousand pieces, “Moo-me!”

The brunet boy was trying to reach for Remus, and he squirmed for the adult male, but Petunia had a tight grip. Y/n could barely hear the little boy's words over her own sobs. Her body ached and shook with every tear that fell. The silver streams stained her cheeks, and her face was a brilliant rose red.

“Please make it stop….” Y/n muttered as Remus covered her from the other four people in the room, “If he says that one more time, I might not be able to handle it. Remus, help me, please.”

Hearing her so desperate broke his heart more. Remus’ body covered hers entirely in their crouched position. Harry was practically attacking Petunia to let him go, to be in the arms that are familiar to him. He didn’t like this. He didn’t know these people. These people weren’t his parents. Where was daddy? Where was mummy? Where was uncle Sirius and Peter?

What he did know was his aunt and uncle were right in front of him. Uncle Moony and Aunt Y/n. He could feel his aunt's sadness, her frustration, her anger. He could sense his uncle's remorse, desperation, and hopelessness. Why were they feeling this way? Why weren’t they protecting him? Harry so desperately wished he could speak and say, “Help! Save me from these strangers!” But all he could get out was “Moo-mee and Tee” for Moony and Auntie.

Petunia couldn’t handle his squirming any longer and allowed him on the floor. Harry was ecstatic with this new change. The boy crawled to the two adults on the floor. Harry could feel the warmth of their bodies before he tugged at his aunt's sleeve. Harry stared into her e/c irises and his uncle's green eyes. Those eyes he’d remember forever, engraved in his memory to never forget. His aunt collected him into her arms. His head pressed to her chest. Harry’s sobs calmed, now in the arms of familiarity.

The scent of chocolate, ink, and books surrounded him. His nose was barely catching the smell due to it being runny from crying. Petunia and Vernon approached them. Remus was hugging his wife and his best friend's son, protecting them from the outside world. Gently Y/n pulled Harry from her chest, leaving him to stare at his aunt and uncle.

Y/n sniffled and wiped his tears from his cheeks like mum used to do, “Harry, I promise you, I really don’t want to do this.”

His head tilted in confusion as Y/n’s eyes filled with tears again, “I’ll come back for you. Don’t doubt that for a second.”

“If he’s anything like Prongs, he’ll always have hope.” Remus commented, making Y/n smile.

“That’s what daddy used to do to mummy when she was sad,” Harry thought, “he used to say something to make her smile.”

Despite the soft smile on her face, she had wet trails on her cheeks, “I love you, Harry.”

Y/n kissed his forehead where the lightning scar was placed—hugging him one more time and Remus doing the same as his wife. Harry didn’t understand. Where was he going? Why was auntie Y/n letting him go? Why weren’t they taking him home? Where was mummy and daddy?! So he began to wail again. Petunia picked him up, and the family of four now started to walk out of the room.

She couldn’t even cry anymore. The water that once flowed down her cheeks had stopped. The dam had broken but no longer had water to give. Y/n turned to put her face harshly in Remus’ chest. His arms raked through her hair and rubbed her back. Silent tears rolled down his flushed cheeks, reaching his jawline and falling into Y/n’s hair.

“That was-“ Y/n hiccuped, “the hardest thing I’ve ever done.”

“I know, darling.” Remus whispered, “He’s got James’ spirit, and that means he won’t lose hope. He’s got Lily’s kindness. Harry will be fine.”

Y/n shook her head, “That’s not the point. He should be with me. Not that horrid woman.”

“I know. But you and I will get through this.” Remus assured, tilting her head to face him, “We’ve gotten through everything else. We can get through this too.”

Solemnly, Y/n nodded. Remus placed a gentle kiss on her forehead. The room was precise and silent, aside from Y/n’s hiccups. The clicking of a clock could be heard echoing throughout the room. Usually, the sound would bring a sense of solace to Remus but right now, it was a constant reminder that time had gone by. James and Lily were no longer with him. Sirius had betrayed them all, and Peter was dead. Godric, how could this all happen?

Remus flicked his wand from his pocket, apparating them back to their residence. Inside it was cozy and warm. Remus took off Y/n’s coat along with his own as she took a seat on the leather couch. She grabbed her wand, muttering an “Incendio” to start a fire in the fireplace. Her body was curled up, and Remus placed a blanket over her while he went to the kitchen.

The kitchen was a pale blue with dark oak flooring. The marble countertops and dark cabinets. A brilliant contrast. He could almost hear James’ laugh from when they were painting it together while also hearing Lily and Y/n’s scolding them for making a big mess. It brought an emptiness to his heart, but he filled the kettle with water, allowing it to boil on the water.

Inside the cabinets laid an assortment of tea. Something James and Lily had bought him as a joke. Remus always made tea no matter the occasion. It was so him. James had seen it at a muggle store Lily had brought him for. He had been dying of laughter in the store just thinking about it. It got laughs around the Christmas tree when Remus unwrapped the decorative paper.

Remus grabbed a tea bag for himself while grabbing cocoa powder from the same cabinet and two mugs from their wedding night. The kettle began making a high pitch noise, and Remus poured the water into both mugs. Placing the tea bag in one cup and a couple of scoops of cocoa powder in the other, mixing them both, adding marshmallows to the hot chocolate and whipped cream. He added honey to his tea.

Mugs in hand, Remus walked to the living room. He placed the cups on the coffee table. Coaxing Y/n to sit up and he set the mug in her hand as she sipped it carefully, not to burn her mouth. Y/n leaned her head on Remus’ shoulder, still holding her mug with both hands. The blanket draped across their laps. Remus had the cup in his right hand, his left arm draped around her shoulders, the pad of his thumb rubbing her shoulder.

“I love you.”

“I love you too, Rem.”

The holidays were hard. Almost too hard for Y/n and Remus to celebrate. But despite their pain, they decorated their house with garland, lights, and knickknacks. The Christmas tree sat in the right of their living room, covered in the beautiful colorful lights. Placed upon the tree were ornaments and tiny pieces of tinsel. Beneath the tree held presents for each other and a little boy.

Y/n stood in front of the tree, staring at it with a longing look. Remus walked behind her, putting his arms around her neck gently. Y/n’s hands instinctively reached for his bicep, rubbing it gently. Remus kissed her cheek and placed his head on top of hers.

“I wanna visit him.”

“Okay.”

Y/n turned to face him, “Okay?”

“What am I gonna tell you?” Remus joked, “No?”

“No. I just- I didn’t expect you to agree so fast.” Y/n replied, and Remus cupped her cheek, “He’s your nephew too. You have a right to see him.”

She smiled, “Yeah, you’re right.”

He kissed her forehead, “First Christmas without them….”

“I know.” Y/n said sadly, “It feels strange not to have James jumping around like a child.”

“It feels not having Lily in the kitchen trying to make your mums mince pies.”

Y/n chuckled, “She never got to master them.”

“Don’t worry, dear, I’m sure she’s up there trying.” Remus replied, smiling, “You think Peter is trying to steal the batter?” Y/n asked.

“Oh, definitely!” Remus exclaimed, smiling more than he had in months, “That bugger always used to Nick my chocolate at Hogwarts.”

“I dunno how he found my stash every time.”

The couple placed their foreheads on each other’s, closing their eyes, “We miss you, James and Lily.”

“We miss you more than ever.”

Y/n sighed, “I love you guys.”

Christmas morning was dull compared to their regular routine. Y/n was used to having James jump on top of her every Christmas so they can wake up their parents and open presents. Instead, she was woken up with kisses being placed on her neck and shoulder. Y/n turned and was faced with the sleepy face of her husband.

His sandy hair ruffled and on top of the white pillow. Green eyes glazed with a film of sleep. His lips pulled up in an effortless gentle smile. The scars on his face were whiter instead of their usual pale pink. His stubble was growing into full facial hair due to his lack of shaving. Y/n let her hand cup his right cheek, her thumb rubbing his cheekbone.

“You need to shave.”

Remus chuckled, “It’s Christmas, and that’s the first thing you say to me?”

“Merry Christmas, you need to shave?” Y/n corrected with a smile, making him laugh, “Merry Christmas, darling.”

They shared a soft and gentle kiss. His lips taking her bottom one, hers taking his top one. Soft and slow. Gentle and sweet. Pulling apart, their eyes fluttered, focusing on one another. Her eyes were so beautiful. Looking into her eyes, Remus could read an endless amount of stories. The gorgeous e/c. His eyes were evergreen. Holding so much love and adoration. She could read him like a book through his eyes.

Christmas meant eating a good meal and sharing kisses beneath the mistletoe. The couple opened each other’s presents. Y/n earning new books and some of Remus’ old sweaters that she thought he threw away. The last item she received was a maroon and gold jersey. It was her brother's Quidditch Captain jersey from when he played. Remus must’ve found it in the wreckage at Godric’s Hallow.

Remus opened his presents, getting ink, quills, notebooks, and books of his own. Since Remus couldn’t work, he always dreamed of writing a book. At Hogwarts, Remus excelled in Defense Against the Dark Arts, and he wanted to write a nonbias textbook for it. Y/n always encouraged his dreams and goals. If anyone could do it, it was him.

Left under the tree were three wrapped boxes meant for the little boy. Remus grabbed a tote bag and placed them inside of it. Y/n gripped his hand tightly as they apparated to Privet Drive. They began walking down the street, sweaters on in the snow, while she grabbed his hand tighter.

“What if- What if he doesn’t recognize me?”

“Y/n, he couldn’t forget you.” Remus assured as they stood outside house four.

Gently Y/n knocked on the door. It was oak wood, and the house appeared to be at least two stories. Remus kept his hand intertwined with hers as his other held the bag with the boy's presents. Footsteps could be heard walking towards the door. Petunia had opened it to be faced with two young adults.

“Mrs. Dursley.” Remus greeted curtly, “May we see Harry?”

Petunia began to ponder and saw the bag of presents in the man's hand, “Sure.”

The woman walked into the hallway and unlocked the cupboard under the stairs. Harry was coaxed out of the storage space, and he turned to the left, where he saw his uncle and aunt. The boy's lips curved into a great big smile. Harry ran into the arms of his aunt, hugging her tightly.

“Auntie!”

Her heart melted, “Hey, mini Prongs.”

Harry turned the male beside her, “Moony!”

Remus wrapped his arms around the little boy and picked him up as they walked inside. The three of them sat in the foyer on the floor. Harry sat between Y/n’s legs, his back to her stomach as Remus sat in front of him. Gently Remus disposed of the bag and placed the presents in front of him.

“Go on, Harry. These are for you from Moony and Auntie.” Remus cooed, and Harry grabbed one, gently ripping the wrapping off.

Inside was a baby stag stuffed animal, which Harry hugged close to his chest, “Your dad's favorite animal was a stag. Thought you might want something to remember him by.” Remus stated, smiling sheepishly.

“Daddy?”

“Yeah, daddy.” Y/n replied as Harry smiled up at her.

“Go on. There’s two more for you, baby.” Y/n pointed at the other two boxes, and Harry began unwrapping another.

This was a tinier box, and inside were golden glasses, “You don’t need these just yet, but these were your fathers. I wanted them to be yours.” Y/n informed him as he placed them on top of his nose.

The final box was mini-figures that Harry could play with in his spare time, which he seemed more than grateful for. Harry was giggling and laughing, happy with all his presents. The boy turned in Y/n’s lap, hugging her as tight as he could. Y/n’s hand rested on his back, and she gently kissed his forehead.

“I love you, Harry. Don’t forget that.”

“‘Ove you too.” Harry replied, having a hard time pronouncing words.

Next, he hugged Remus, who did the same. He didn’t want to leave Remus’ arms. He always ran hotter than the everyday person. Remus was a personal furnace. It makes sense why a cold young boy didn’t want to let go of the man. Within minutes the young boy was asleep in Remus’ arms.

Petunia came into the hallway an hour later to see Harry soundly asleep in the man's arms, “Excuse me, but I’ll have to ask you to leave.”

“Yes, of course.” Y/n took Harry from Remus’ arms and gave him to Petunia, “Thank you for letting us see him.”

Petunia took the boy from Y/n’s arms, “Yes.”

She put the boy in his bed under the cupboard, making Y/n frown at his living situation, “Do you- Do you think that Harry could stay with us some weekends?”

“No.”

“Oh, okay.” Y/n muttered, “Thank you again, but we must’ve overstayed our welcome.”

“Of course.”

Y/n took Remus’ hand as they walked out of the house. They walked to a safe spot to apparate back home. They both took off their coats and placed them on the coat rack. Y/n went to turn on a movie on their television set while Remus made hot chocolate and snacks. Both of them curled up onto the sofa and fell asleep.

Over the course of the next nine years, Harry has been visited by his aunt and uncle on many different occasions. Birthdays, Christmas’s, Valentine’s Day, Halloween, and sometimes just randomly, but he always looked forward to seeing them. Every time without fail, Harry would always jump in Y/n’s arms no matter how old he got.

The warmth and feeling of being safe in her arms brought a sense of comfort no one seemed compared to. She felt like daddy. His radiate smile, his incredibly warm body, the smoothness of her voice, the glitter in her eyes, her untied hair. Auntie Y/n felt like James. But no matter how hard he tried, she never was dad exactly, but she was auntie. Y/n was his dad's sister, and for now, that’d have to do.

Of course, uncle Moony felt the same. But there were some days he didn’t show up, much to Harry’s displeasure. Harry loved sleeping in Remus’ arms when he was a young toddler. The chocolate, ink, and parchment smell always filled his sensitive nose with such a safe feeling. Harry’s favorite time of year was Christmas when Petunia would make hot cocoa, filling the room with its sweet sense. Although he never got a cup of it himself, the smell brought a sense of comfort. As if uncle Moony was embracing him tightly on all sides.

When Harry reached eleven, owls began delivering envelopes to Privet Drive number Four. But it seems that uncle Vernon refused to let him open any of them. He did whatever he had to, blocking the mail slot in the door, burning the letters, even going as extreme to leave the house. Where inevitably Hagrid - gamekeeper - at Hogwarts came to retrieve him and give him the letter.

He couldn’t believe it. He was a wizard! All this time being belittled by Petunia, Vernon, and Dudley, he finally felt special aside from those times with his other family. Harry had a chance to prove himself to be great. To prove himself that he wasn’t just a bug on the ground to be stepped on. Only one thought crossed his mind though.

“I can’t wait to tell aunt Y/n and uncle Moony.”

[cinnaminsvga]

a love that endures | Yoongi

→ summary: 

“Oh come on! Just go say hi to him already,” Seokjin huffs. He wiggles his eyebrows, striking you with the urge to shave them off in retaliation. “I could feel your ‘God, I miss his dick’ vibes from across the room!”

“I do not emit dick thirst vibes,” you respond hotly, swatting him in the tit. You pause, considering. “Wait, but do you think he misses my p—”

“Say no more,” Seokjin interrupts, a wicked smirk gracing his lips. His gaze is fixed somewhere behind you, but you have a sinking suspicion you know why he looks like he’s won the lottery. “Speaking of the devil, look who’s coming over to say hello!”

{or alternatively: Yoongi and Y/N. Y/N and Yoongi. High school sweethearts that were never meant to last, until a reunion ten years later manages to reignite a flame that never quite burnt out.} 

→ genre: high school reunion!au, exes to lovers, fluff, humor, minor angst → warnings: shy!yoongi and shy!oc live rent free in my brain, mutual pining is poggers, hoseok and seokjin aren’t evil for once in a cinnaminsvga fic, implied smut so it’s pg-13 because i’m a wimp → words: 14.4K → a/n: SHE’S ALIVE!! this is dedicated to @himbeaux-joon​ who commissioned this piece ages ago. thank you again for requesting this because this was honestly so much fun to write. i’ve been in a bit of writing slump these past few weeks but this fic came out so easily and got way longer than expected (perhaps because it’s about yoongi and he’s always been the easiest one to write for me). enjoy!! ;o;

The mere sight of him is enough to knock the wind out of you.

Your body freezes, the hand curled around your paper cup filled with punch tightening ever so slightly. It isn’t like you’re surprised that he came; you aren’t supposed to be. Of course, you should have expected his arrival, but you’ve been hoping all night that he might have been too busy to attend.

He isn’t even on time—it has almost been two hours since the event started and you had been filled with a false hope that perhaps he had RSVP’d and decided he couldn’t make it. 

You had seen Hoseok, his best friend from your younger days, standing outside the entrance of the ballroom before they had started letting people in. The moment Hoseok saw you, he immediately came over to sweep you into a tight hug, his infectious laughter ringing in your ears. He had greeted you happily, expressing how much he missed you since high school, but never once bringing up the elephant in the room.

It wasn’t like you were going to bring him up first. No, that would be weird on your part. Nevermind the fact that going to high school reunions was a recipe for reliving past traumas and seeing all your childhood friends either married or pregnant—you weren’t going to be that person who asked where their ex was. You refused to be the person craning their neck to spy on the entrance every two minutes, hoping to catch sight of an old familiar face.

The problem is that you are that person, and you kind of hate yourself for it. However, it is also the reason why you are probably the only person in the entire ballroom who notices his quiet arrival.

He has never liked causing commotions, which is often apparent from the way he conducts himself. He walks into the room just as a loud round of applause breaks out; an old schoolmate of yours is walking up to the podium, probably the person who had arranged the get-together in the first place. It is a perfect distraction for him as he slinks past the door, keeping near the wall so as not to be seen by anyone just yet.

(Except he has been seen—he just doesn’t know it yet.)

You do not know for how long you stare at him, just that it takes you a moment to realize you haven’t taken a breath since he stepped foot into the same space as you. You take a deep, shuddering breath, forcing your racing heartbeat to calm down. You swallow thickly, throat so unbearably dry that even drinking from your lukewarm cup of punch doesn’t seem to do anything.

But the undeniable truth is there, standing only a few meters away from you, and nothing on earth will be able to wash away the nerves flooding through your system.

After ten years of radio silence, Min Yoongi is in your orbit once again.

In the grand scheme of things, ten years wasn’t all that long. Four years in university had passed by in a blur, and the absolute chaos that ensued right after you graduated as you scrambled to secure a job and move out of your hometown had made the days seem shorter than they actually were. You had not even noticed that time was passing until you found that cream envelope waiting for you one day after work, your alma mater’s school crest painfully recognizable even after all these years.

During all that time, the world around you shifted without you noticing, and that meant people were changing too.

Yoongi is 28 now. And so are you, after many months of denial. You have not seen each other since you were both 18—both of you far too young to know about any of the things you would experience in the next ten years.

He might have grown a little taller since then, something you are sure that your brother will find amusing. His hair isn’t dyed like you remembered, as he has opted to keep it his natural dark black that you have not seen since you were both in middle school. It’s styled differently too: combed over and gelled back, with his bangs pushed back and his forehead exposed. When he turns his head to the side, a gasp spills past your lips before you can stop it.

“Is that a fucking undercut?” you mutter in shock, your eyes straining out of their sockets as you try to drink him in. Even under the dim lighting of the ballroom, his new haircut is hard to miss. No one else seems to be undergoing the same mental collapse as you, judging by how everyone’s attention is still fixated on the person speaking at the podium. How the hell is no one else losing their fucking minds to the sight of Min Yoongi with a fucking undercut? Some questions are impossible to answer, you surmise.

When you decided to attend the reunion, you had not once thought about how Yoongi would look like. Somehow, you had developed this stagnant picture of him in your head, even after all these years. To you, he will always be the boy with the stark blonde hair, the mismatched eyelids, the pouty lips, the dumpling cheeks. He is the boy who can’t wear his own contact lenses to save his life, the boy who sometimes wears his favorite leather jacket to sleep, the boy who only drinks Americanos like it was water.

Gone are those days, you realize. That image of him has been smashed to pieces, instead replaced by this dashing (and incredibly hot) man—a stranger. A stranger with unbleached (and healthy) hair, a jawline sharp enough to cut glass. He has his glasses kept away, and there is no leather jacket in sight.

But you can see him, if you look hard enough. The same spark in his eye, the same curve of his lips. You catch him smiling for a second, and his cheeks still puff up like dough. Maybe it’s just hopeless thinking, but you see him. It’s still him. To you, he will always be your 18-year-old Min Yoongi, the one who would greet you with a sweet kiss on the forehead every time you would—

Raucous applause breaks you from your train of thought, and you blink rapidly in surprise. You have to forcibly pull yourself out of your Yoongi-induced trance, clapping alongside everyone without really knowing what was going on. All of the extra noise sounds like buzzing in your ears, especially when it is drowned out by the roar of your blood rushing to your head all at once.

“Once again, I’d like to thank you all for coming tonight. We will begin the program right after dinner, so please feel free to help yourselves to the buffet! Cheers everyone!” You faintly hear your old schoolmate speak, before her voice is quickly overrun by the commotion of people walking over to the extravagant display of food. It takes a moment for the crowd of heads to disperse, so when you can finally look back to where you last saw Yoongi, he is no longer alone.

Hoseok has his arm slung around Yoongi, his infectious laughter loud enough to be heard over clinking plates and silverware. The two are as different as night and day, with Hoseok practically bouncing from excitement and Yoongi rolling his eyes from annoyance. But it is easy to see that his pout is nothing but a ruse; you can already catch the beginnings of a smile tugging at his lips.

You feel your own seams breaking, unwittingly sporting a grin of your own. It is nice to know that Yoongi hasn’t been alone all this time, that he still seems close with his old best friend. You cannot count the number of friendships that you have lost over time, and you still grieve many of them during your quiet moments. Alas, it was often never even anyone’s fault, the strains of adulthood often being the biggest deal breakers in your relationships.

That is, of course, except for one.

“Enjoying yourself? I didn’t think we’d share the same voyeuristic tendencies,” says a voice, creeping up behind you. Now, normal people would not usually expect other sane people to invade your personal space and breathe directly into your ear, but that’s just your humble opinion. What you do know is that one certain individual enjoys breaking the mold when it comes to societal norms, and it is none other than…

“Jesus fucking Christ!” You shriek, nearly sucker-punching the offending degenerate in the face. You hold back your fist from connecting with his face, but your resulting irritation remains. Whether that irritation is because you regret holding back or not will unfortunately also have to remain unanswered. “Oh God, it’s you.”

“Oh, no need for that. Most people usually call me Seokjin,” he snickers, thoroughly enjoying your flushed face. Kim Seokjin pats you on the shoulder, his trademark “pretty boy” smile still as radiant as you remembered. It does nothing to quell your urge to raise your fists again, however. “Hello, Y/N. Fancy seeing you here!”

“The feeling is not mutual,” you snort. Much like how Yoongi was with Hoseok, your derision is nothing but a rouse. As much as you want to kick Seokjin in the nuts, you also cannot ignore how much you want to hug him the slimy bastard—but you definitely will not be the first one to admit it. So like the tsundere that you are, you decide to insult him instead. “Why are you here? You’re not even from this class. Don’t you have other things to do? Or rather, people to do?”

“My heart! You wound me,” he gasps, grasping his chest as though he’d been shot. “How could you say that to your best friend in the entire world? Don’t you know how much I missed you?”

“Easy. I do it because the only other alternative would lead me straight to prison,” you shrug, but your grin betrays you.

This time, you don’t jolt away when he closes in for a hug. “And I guess I miss you too,” you say, your words slightly muffled into his chest. Like always, he sees through your prickly act because as much as you like to pretend, Kim Seokjin is kind of amazing—loose bolts and all.

“It’s nice to know that your tongue hasn’t lost its edge, though I suppose I wouldn’t be intimately knowledgeable in that area. After all, I still am very much a raging homosexual and pussy isn’t really my forte,” Seokjin guffaws, his volume causing a few nearby guests to raise their heads in alarm.

You bow at them, sheepishly apologizing on his behalf before grabbing him by the collar.

“Will you stop being embarrassing for just one second? I swear, I thought I retired from my babysitting job when I graduated high school,” you hiss, but the way his mouth curls up with mischief is answer enough. God, you missed this son of a bitch.

“Unfortunately for you, being a pest is part of my DNA,” he smirks, carefully plucking your hands off from his neck, as though your nails were not mere inches away from ripping his trachea into pieces. “Though, I am offended by your assumption that I am still the same slut that you knew. I’ve grown up a little, you know! I’m a changed man!”

“Oh, please. Don’t tell me you of all people have settled down,” you laugh, not missing the way Seokjin’s perfectly stenciled brow raises slightly.

“I know we haven’t seen each other since Christmas, but come on Y/N! You of all people should be applauding me for my improved behavior! You must have noticed how much I changed when I visited.”

“When you visited me last Christmas, you immediately insulted my taste in kitchen towels, went on Grindr to find a hookup despite my numerous pleas, and promptly desecrated my guest bedroom that no housekeeper or priest is willing to exorcise to this day,” you gag, shuddering at the memory. “And then you ate all my ice cream and proceeded to clog my toilet!”

“Um? Aren’t you forgetting that I also bought you that dress you wanted? Rude,” Seokjin retorts, not the least bit remorseful. “Well, that’s what you get for agreeing to be my best bitch for life. You know that I take pinky promises very seriously.”

Unfortunately, he does take his promises seriously. It is probably the only thing he’ll ever be serious about, as much as the man enjoys parading his depravity. “Okay, whatever. I’ll bite. Who’s the unlucky man you’ve managed to deceive into a relationship?”

“Oh, it’s someone we both used to know. I’m his plus one for tonight,” he says, supplying you with the most useless non-answer imaginable.

“Seokjin. We’re at a high school reunion. We know everyone here. That could be anyone!” you exclaim.

“Well, isn’t that fun? Then we can do a scavenger hunt!” Seokjin grins, clapping his hands together excitedly. He pulls you in front of him, forcing the two of you to survey the crowd. “Okay, hold your arm out like this—” After a few seconds of you failing to resist him, he manages to get you to unfurl your finger as if you were about to order something from the dollar menu at McDonalds. Unfortunately for you, the tall twink is stronger than he appears. “—and just keep pointing around until I tell you that you’re getting warmer!”

“Seokjin, I don’t think this is very—” you start, but Seokjin is already moving your arm for you. Like a hurricane, Kim Seokjin listens to no one but his own homewrecking whims.

“Park Chanyeol? Close, but not really. You should know that I don’t double dip with past flings,” he says, shifting you to the left. “Kim Namjoon? Now that’s a hunk of meat that I wish I’d taken a bite of, but unfortunately he’s as straight as a ruler. Pass,” he hums, continuing to move you bit by bit.

You’re both getting uncomfortably close to where Yoongi is, and Seokjin doesn’t appear to be stopping any time soon. You did notice that Yoongi had come dateless to the reunion (a fact, by the way, that you did not rejoice over when you had noticed), but that doesn’t necessarily mean he’s single. You have known Seokjin for more than a decade at this point, and despite your odd friendship, you are sure that he would never do anything to hurt you on purpose.

Though, that does beg the question… How far does his dick thirst really go? Maybe you’ll finally find out today.

“Warmer, getting warmer…” Seokjin inches you closer and closer to where Yoongi is standing. You feel frozen in his grasp, unsure if you wanted to know anymore. If Seokjin really is dating Yoongi, then what? It’s not like you were dating him anyway… What difference does it make if it’s Seokjin?

(It makes all the difference, but you refuse to think about it.)

“Nope, not Wonho... A little bit to the left… Bingo!” Seokjin declares, stopping your finger right on— “No, Y/N! Stop moving! You’ve gone too far to the wall! I was pointing at him.”

“H-Hoseok? You’re dating Hoseok?!” You squeak, an avalanche of relief flooding through you. You don’t even have the energy to pretend to be composed as your entire body starts untensing involuntarily, your shoulders slumping as though a weight has been lifted from you. “Why couldn’t you have just told me like a normal person? Why must everything be tortuous and dramatic when it comes to you?”

“I am a naturally insufferable and theatrical person. Sue me,” he shrugs, greatly enjoying the exhausted look on your face. “What? Were you actually scared that I was dating your sloppy seconds? What do you think I am? An asshole?”

You stare at him. “Is that a rhetorical question?”

Seokjin scoffs. “If I wanted to get roasted, I would approach two tops at a gay bar.” He pauses. “Wait, are you seriously not going to congratulate me for finally snagging a boy who has a functioning moral compass?”

“Define ‘snagging.’ Did you, like, tie him up and blackmail him to become your boyfriend like those terrible One Direction Wattpad fanfics, or—” You stop halfway, giggling at your friend’s unamused pout. “Okay, okay. Yes, Seokjin. I am very proud of you. Congrats on finally becoming an adult. Your hoe days are over.”

“Who said they were over?” He snorts. Noticing your alarm, Seokjin rolls his eyes in exasperation. “Oh, don’t give me that look! I’m not into infidelity and you know that. I just meant that I’m still a hoe with significantly fewer options.”

“How did that even happen in the first place?” you say, jabbing your thumb in Hoseok’s direction. Thankfully, the man in question is still busy talking to Yoongi, though you don’t know for how much longer. If Seokjin isn’t lying, then there’s a high chance they’re going to walk over to say hi and you’re not sure if you’re mentally prepared to go through the five stages of grief all over again.

“Believe me, I’m surprised as well. I started dating Hoseok after he asked me for help with his sister’s wedding gift. He asked me to help arrange an itinerary for her sister’s honeymoon in America,” Seokjin explains with a dreamy smile. He sighs, holding a hand up to his chest. You can physically see the heart emojis circling his head like a halo. “We hit it off from there and dare I say… Not only is he the only person who can keep up with my high maintenance lifestyle, but dear Lord, he could totally be recruited into the NDA for his astounding dick game—”

“Ever heard of TMI? Gross,” you interrupt, your face crumpling in disgust. You shove him away when his loud cackles start rattling your eardrums.

“You were scared though, right?” he says through his giggles. “When you thought that I was dating Yoongi?”

Of course Seokjin had noticed your mini-mental breakdown, judging from the shit-eating grin on his face.

“N-no,” you stutter, but your heated cheeks and averted gaze give you away. “E-either way, I wouldn’t have cared if you did!” you say. You know, like a liar.

“I bet you don’t care that Yoongi got significantly hotter in the past ten years too, huh?” Seokjin teases, snickering loudly. Under the harsh lighting of the fluorescent chandelier lights, you might have mistaken the boy in front of you for the devil instead of your best friend of almost twenty years.

“I sincerely rue the day I introduced myself to you in the third grade,” you hiss, sipping from your cup to hide your humiliation.

“Aww, you’re so cute when you’re all embarrassed,” Seokjin coos, pinching your cheeks with the gentleness of an ape. You slap his hand away, unable to think of any retort.

“Cat got your tongue? You didn’t even deny it when I accused you,” Seokjin laughs. He claps his hands jovially, acting as though he’s enjoying a show at the circus. Given your performance tonight, that statement isn’t all that far from reality.

“I don’t need to defend myself from you,” you say, puffing your cheeks indignantly. “I just… think he looks handsome. Is that illegal or something?”

“Certainly not. Though, you might want to dial down the pining a teensy bit,” he singsongs. “That’s how I found you in the first place. I sensed your pining from a mile away and came as soon as I could!”

“I wasn’t pining!” you exclaim. “I was just… admiring the plant beside him.”

“Right, sure,” Seokjin says, arching an eyebrow in challenge. You feel your hackles rising at his smug expression, your ‘Seokjin-is-about-to-ruin-your-life’ alarm ringing in your ears. “So, you wouldn’t mind if I brought you over there to say hello? After all, my boyfriend is over there and as much as I enjoy pestering you, I also want to be with him very much.”

You whistle lowly, impressed. “Wow, that’s actually kind of sweet of you.”

“Yes, I know. Kim Seokjin’s heart grew three sizes that day, yada yada yada.” Seokjin says sarcastically, but his lovesick smile ruins the effect. When he opens his mouth once more, the mirage instantly disappears. “But you would understand if you saw how much he’s packing—”

“Shut up, I didn’t ask—”

“Fine, then let’s ask the man himself! Besides, you know you’re being ridiculous, right?” Seokjin tuts, annoyed. He fixes you with a glare, making you feel like a scolded child. “It’s just Yoongi. You and I both know he doesn’t have a mean bone in his body and probably would love to see you after so long.”

You wave your hands around helplessly, almost sloshing your drink onto a nearby bystander. After muttering a meek apology at your harried classmate, you turn back to Seokjin with a defeated sigh.

You know that he’s right, and you absolutely hate him for it. “Jinnie, I’m a mess! I can hardly think with Yoongi standing meters away from me, much less if he were to stand right in front of me! I’m just going to embarrass myself,” you lament, holding your head in your hand.

“That’s true. You will definitely embarrass yourself,” Seokjin hums, nodding sagely. He shrugs his shoulders. “All the more reason we should do it. Relax, I’ll be your wingman like old times! All we have to do is remind him of all the fantastic, mind-blowing coitus you had in your youth and he’ll be a goner for sure.”

“If by goner, you mean he’ll be gone from my life permanently this time, then you’re right,” you groan. You have a half a mind to dump the remainder of your disgusting punch all over his expensive Bottega Veneta coat, though you also don’t want to spend the next three months receiving packaged turds from Seokjin in your mailbox. “Please, just let me suffer in silence for the remainder of the night, okay? Is that really too much to ask?”

“Oh come on! Just go say hi to him already,” Seokjin huffs. He wiggles his eyebrows, striking you with the urge to shave them off in retaliation. “I could feel your ‘God, I miss his dick’ vibes from across the room!”

“I do not emit dick thirst vibes,” you respond hotly, swatting him in the tit. You pause, considering. “Wait, but do you think he misses my p—”

“Say no more,” Seokjin interrupts, a wicked smirk gracing his lips. His gaze is fixed somewhere behind you, but you have a sinking suspicion you know why he looks like he’s won the lottery. “Speaking of the devil, look of who’s coming over to say hello!”

Swiveling around, you see that your intuition is right: Yoongi and Hoseok are swiftly making their way through the crowd, one of them appearing to be more enthusiastic than the other. You swallow thickly, your palms growing damp as they get closer to where the two of you stand.

"Seokjin, we gotta go!" you hiss, but your panic goes largely ignored as your best friend leaves you to envelop his lover in a dramatic embrace.

The two men exchange teary and heartfelt touches, acting as if they had been separated by years of war instead of the meager minutes they had spent apart to greet their long-time friends.

"My honeybunch! Oh, how I've missed you so much!" Seokjin cries, nuzzling his nose into Hoseok's neck. You might have mistaken him for a vampire with how aggressively he sniffs Hoseok's skin. Had Seokjin been 5% more unhinged, you do not doubt that he might have started suckling on his boyfriend like a leech.

"Oh, hyung. It's barely been an hour, but why does it feel like it has been forever?" Hoseok sighs forlornly, jaw clenching as though he's in pain. He croaks out a sob, lifting Seokjin in the air and spinning him around. "My love, let us never part again!"

You take a few steps away from them, trying to make it apparent to all the bewildered onlookers that you have nothing to do with homosexual Tweedledee and Tweedledum.

"What kind of shitty production is this? I want my money back," you murmur, fake-gagging behind the two of them. The lovesick fools pay no mind to your disgust; in fact, they seem to relish in it. Their efforts double, their theatrical kissy-smoochy sound effects causing goosebumps to form on your arms. "Seriously, I've had enough of this and I've only been forced to witness it for two seconds."

"Tell me about it," says a voice to your left. Startled, you nearly let out a shocked gasp when you realize that Yoongi had found his way by your side, his own disgusted gaze fixed on the bumbling buffoons still lost in their world. He glances at you for a second, quirking his lips into a small smile. "Hey, Y/N."

In just six words, Min Yoongi manages to make time grind to a halt. You gape at him, your brain ceasing in function. It takes you a full minute to realize that the man standing beside you is not a figment of your imagination. You had been so caught up in the absurdity of the situation that for a moment you had forgotten that Yoongi is a real person.

It's Yoongi, your first love. The person you haven't seen or spoken to in years. The man who has haunted your dreams for over a decade. He's standing right beside you, and he's smiling at you. He's here, he's hot, and he's saying hello.

Like the incredibly eloquent and profound person that you are, you reply: "Yellow!"

You had meant to say "Yoongi, hello!" like a normal person, but your brain had amalgamated your words during its rebooting process. And so, you are left standing there silently, frozen by your embarrassment. You swear you can hear a pin drop as you beg for the earth to swallow you whole.

Unfortunately for you, the floor remains painfully tangible beneath your feet, forcing you to clear your throat and expound on your mystifying exclamation. Yoongi watches you with curious eyes, patiently waiting for you to speak.

"W-what I meant to say is, uh," you stammer, your cheeks heating up to an alarming degree. "Those yellow streamers are pretty tacky, don't you think?"

Nice one. In terms of comebacks, you would personally give yourself a C for effort. (Note: C stands for "Can I please shove a fist up my ass and crabwalk the fuck out of here?")

Yoongi contemplates the tacky decorations in question, nodding in agreement. "Yeah, I guess. They pretty much look like the stuff we'd make in elementary school during Arts and Crafts." He points to your mutual friends, grimacing in annoyance. "Them, on the other hand? No child should ever come into contact with those heathens."

"You're right," you snort, shaking your head.

There is a long and awkward pause. Yoongi clears his throat, swaying from side to side while staring at his shoes. You aren't any better, twiddling your thumbs as you will your cheeks to stop flushing. Your senses are practically screaming at you to run away and hide forever, but your limbs feel disjointed from the rest of you.

It's like we're at the zoo on a date and the monkeys won't stop fucking each other, your mind unhelpfully supplies, offering you an image that will permanently make its home on the backs of your eyelids.

Desperate to break the silence, eventually you say, "Hey, Yoongi—"

Right at the same time, Yoongi says, "Hey, Y/N—"

Another pause, but this one is slightly less tense. The two of you share a nervous laugh, though yours sounds a little bit more hysterical. You motion for him to speak first.

"I, uh... wanted to say that you look great. Yeah. Like, you haven't aged a day at all. N-not to say that I don't think you've matured or..." Yoongi stumbles over his words, his voice cracking.

Instead of feeling relieved that he's just as nervous as you, his anxiety only exacerbates your own. There's a reason you have never been good at public speaking, and this is a good example of why:

"No! I get what you mean, don't worry about it," you laugh, on the verge of a mental breakdown. What the fuck is this conversation, even? "You look exactly the same too. Umm... Of course, except for the, uh, hair?"

"Oh, you mean the gray hairs?"

"No, no! Of course not! I m-meant your hair looks really hot—I mean good! It looks GOOD," you repeat, frantically emphasizing the last bit. You had instinctively panicked, your voice rising in pitch.  If your cheeks weren't flaming hot already, then they're definitely redder than Seokjin's ass after a Friday night of fun.

The apples of Yoongi's cheek match your own flustered state, though you can imagine that you’re probably at least a hundred times worse. “Well, thank you. I was actually feeling self-conscious about my hair, so hearing that from you is really… nice,” he says, brushing his hair shyly. “I’m kinda done with bright colored hair for now, so seeing my hair in its natural state is still kind of weird.”

“I seriously doubt that Y/N was talking about your hair color, Yoongi,” Hoseok interjects, magically reappearing behind you when you don’t notice. You flinch in surprise, causing him to let out a hearty chuckle at your jumpiness. It seems that today is “Let’s scare the living shit out of Y/N” day with how many people have crept up on you in just one night.

Beside him, Seokjin looks like a bomb ready to explode, his fist jammed up his mouth to keep his guffaws from slipping out. “God, this is even better than the cringe compilations I watch on Youtube,” he wheezes, wiping a stray tear.

“Don’t be so mean to them, hyung! Don’t mind him,” Hoseok says to you, bowing apologetically. He smiles cherubically at Yoongi. “See, Yoongi? I told you that Y/N is even hotter up close!”

“God, fucking kill me,” you hear Yoongi groan.

“So, have you guys caught up yet, or have you just been fumbling around each other like a couple of horny teenagers?” Seokjin snickers, narrowly avoiding your heel stomping his foot.

“We’ve only just said hello. Leave us alone, jackass,” you huff.

“Oh, you’d like that, wouldn’t you? Well, Hoseok and I can go on our merry ways if you wish—”

“Yoongi! Did you tell Y/N about your work back in Seoul? I bet she’d love to hear about it,” Hoseok interrupts smoothly, saving you from further embarrassment (courtesy of his infuriating goblin of a boyfriend.)

You blink in surprise, turning to the man in question. “You live in Seoul now? Did you move there after finishing university?” you ask.

“Well,” Yoongi starts, clearing his throat. He’s permanently pink at this point, not that you mind in the slightest. He always did have the cutest blush (and once upon a time, you used to love teasing him about it.) “I sort of dropped out of university early. Decided it wasn’t really my thing, you know?”

“Don’t sell yourself short, Yoongi. You were a fantastic student. I’m sure Y/N remembers how smart you are,” Hoseok says, winking inconspicuously at you.

You force out a laugh in response. You know perfectly well what he was trying to do; Hoseok isn’t slick in the slightest, though you do admit that you are intrigued to find out what Yoongi had done over the years.

It isn’t like you haven’t been keeping tabs on him. In your defense, it’s hard to stay away from news about Yoongi when he’s such a big deal. So what if you’ve watched a couple of his interviews and streamed all of his songs? He’s always been talented with music, and all the radio shows seem to agree. You couldn’t get away from him if you tried (and it’s not like you were trying very hard, anyway.)

Yoongi shrugs, rubbing his neck bashfully. “E-either way, I decided to tough it out, you know? Follow my dreams and all that, even if it nearly killed me.”

“And now, he’s working in a famous idol company as one of their head producers,” Hoseok finishes for him, chest puffing up in pride. He slaps his best friend on the back, not noticing that he had inadvertently caused Yoongi's spine to cave in from his strength. “Yoongi is so cool, and humble too! He’s been working behind the scenes for a bunch of big names and never got greedy for attention even though he totally deserves it.”

“Damn, so no street cred? Bit schewpid, innit? Imagine all the chicks you could’ve landed, bruv!” Seokjin says, imitating a terrible British accent. You make a move to hit him in the groin, but for once, Hoseok beats you to the punch.

“Nope! Yoongi-chi is super single, aren’t you?” Hoseok says with a sweet grin, ignoring the pained groans of his lover on the floor.

“No need to rub it in, Seok-ah,” Yoongi grumbles defensively. He coughs into his fist, grinding his foot into the floor. He throws a glance your way. “Just been… too busy, I guess.”

From the floor, Seokjin holds up a hand, grasping at Hoseok’s pant leg to hoist himself up. “What a coincidence. Y/N is super single too. In fact, her pussy is so dry that there’d be no chance for any yeast infections to develop—WAIT, DON’T HIT ME AGAIN I PROMISE I’LL BEHAVE!” Seokjin is on his knees, holding his arms up in surrender as Hoseok’s boot is about to connect with his stomach.

“I know I said I was into BDSM, but not like this!” Seokjin says, faking a sob.

“Then behave, darling,” Hoseok replies, eyes lighting dangerously. When he returns his attention to you, you and Yoongi back away instinctively. “Sorry about him. We have an… arrangement,” he says, waving his hands vaguely.

“Understood,” you both say, not understanding but also not wanting to.

Seokjin manages to straighten up eventually, his skin slightly paler than it was before. “A-as I was saying,” he exhales, still gingerly cupping his crotch. “Y/N has been single for so long, but I don’t blame her. Not after that awful disaster of a boyfriend, right? God, Sungjae fucking sucked ass, and not even in the sexy way.”

“Um, yeah…” you say hesitantly, avoiding eye contact. You can feel Hoseok’s and Yoongi’s eyes trained on you, but you’re not confident enough to know that you can keep your face neutral.

With your gaze averted, you don’t notice the way Yoongi’s posture tenses. “Is that so,” he says carefully.

“I’m sorry to hear that,” Hoseok says. You can hear the genuine sadness in his tone, and you chance a peek at him. He pats your shoulder gently, giving you a soft smile. “Honestly, I feel you. I’ve definitely been there, done that. That’s why I’m grateful for Seokjin-hyung, believe it or not. He’s been really good for me.”

“Hah, I told you I’m a good person!” Seokjin says. Again, he goes ignored.

“It’s fine. It’s all water under the bridge,” you say, shrugging. You can still feel Yoongi’s persistent gaze on the side of your head like a brand. You’re kind of afraid to see what sort of expression he has despite the curiosity burning inside of you.

You are still in the middle of debating if it’s worth explaining or not (and to a lesser extent, why you feel like you need to explain yourself to anyone), everyone’s attention is caught by the onslaught of waiters bringing in a fresh batch of food to the buffet. Your stomach growls in response, and you are reminded of the fact that you haven’t eaten since breakfast in preparation for tonight’s event.

“Hold that thought, Y/N,” Hoseok says, holding up a finger. “Hyung! I saw a platter of tuna belly and I know that shit is gonna disappear in two seconds. Let’s head out!” He tugs Seokjin in a hurry, the elder’s gangly legs flying about as he trips over himself to keep up. Seokjin yelps and hollers for him to slow down, but the hangry Hoseok train stops for no one. They run off, leaving Hoseok-and-Seokjin-shaped dust clouds in their wakes.

“Wow,” Yoongi says, dumbfounded. “Did we just get ditched by our two self-proclaimed best friends in the world?”

You nod, equally dumbfounded. “I guess we did.”

He shakes his head. “Fucking traitors.”

And just like that, the conversation dies.

Without your friends acting as buffers, the pair of you return to your painfully awkward states. You rack your brain for a conversation topic, anything to keep the tension at bay. You don’t feel nearly comfortable enough to ask him about his love life, even though you want nothing more than to shake the details right out of him. For perfectly sane reasons, of course.

Lucky for you, Yoongi thinks of a solution. “Um, I guess we should go grab our food as well? I’m assuming we’ll be sitting together since our friends are... you know. Unless you don’t want to, then that’s also perfectly fine with me. I can find somewhere else to sit.”

“I’d love to sit with you,” you say, cringing at your choice of words. Love to? What are you, desperate?! your brain screeches at you, and you mentally beat yourself in the coochie.

Deep down, you know that you’re overreacting, but you can’t help acting like a blushy teenager talking to your crush when you’re around Yoongi. It’s almost as if you’ve reverted to your high school days, back when you’d both started to notice your feelings for each other and the steady flow of butterflies erupting in your stomach had felt less like a burden and more like a revelation.

After tossing your disgusting drink into a nearby bin, you and Yoongi line up behind the rest of your classmates for the buffet, the scene reminiscent of having lunch at your old high school cafeteria. You’re still mildly distracted by Yoongi’s proximity, not looking at what food you were getting and randomly scooping and hoping you don’t dislike all of them.

From the corner of your eye, you notice that Yoongi’s plate is steadily piling up, probably with enough food to feed two people. You’ve never known Yoongi to be much of a heavy eater, but you suppose that free food is still free food at the end of the day.

“So,” Yoongi says after a beat. He pulls you from your trance, and you catch the small smile on his face that tells you that he figured you had been distracted. “How is Jungkook, by the way? He graduated from university a year ago or something, right?”

You pause, your hand stilling on the metal tongs. “How did you know he graduated last year?”

He shrugs. “Well, assuming that he didn’t take any gap years, I did the math and figured he should be at the age where he’s looking for a job.” He turns to you with a sly grin. “Plus, I’m still his friend on Facebook.”

“That’s surprising,” you comment. You backtrack a little, “And I mean it’s surprising in the sense that… All his posts are reshares from dank meme pages and I thought you wouldn’t be into that.”

Yoongi laughs. “I’m not. But… it’s nice to know how things are back home, I guess.”

Do you wonder about me, too? you think, but you internally shake your head. But why would he? He doesn’t owe you anything.

“And your dad? I heard he got hip surgery last fall,” Yoongi says.

“Wait, Jungkook has been posting about our dad’s surgery on his Facebook?”

“Oh! No, not exactly.” Yoongi clears his throat, suddenly nervous. He heaps a big portion of kimchi, some of it staining his sleeve. “I… called him a few days ago, to catch up.”

You’re staring at him, and you dimly register the people lined up behind you huffing impatiently. “You… called him? You have his cell number, too?”

“No, I just… happen to still have your home telephone number memorized and hoped that you guys hadn’t moved,” he says, a little guiltily.

You’re silent for a moment, thoughtlessly scooping more bean sprouts onto your plate than any sane person would be comfortable eating. The two of you inch along the buffet display as you attempt to process his sudden confession.

On one hand, you’re slightly betrayed that your own brother hadn’t thought to mention that your ex had called him, but on the other hand, what would you have done if he did? Ask if you could say hello? The Y/N from last month probably would have laughed if she had known that Min Yoongi still cared enough to call and check on her family, much less have her landline memorized even after all these years.

He still cared.

Unbeknownst to everyone in the room, your heart skips a beat at the thought. You cradle a hand to your chest, urging your nerves to quell. Keep it together, you beg your stupid, naive heart. You can survive one night without falling in love again, can’t you?

...can you?

“I…” you stammer. You swallow thickly, desperate for something to say, anything to stop your mind from going in the wrong direction. “They miss you, you know? You have no idea how many times my parents ask if you’re coming home for Christmas, or—I don’t know.”

“Yeah, my parents are the same. They always wanna know if I’m coming home for the holidays, and they,” he hesitates, swallowing thickly, “They always ask about you, too.”

Oh.

“Oh,” you mutter lamely. Your cheeks feel like they’ve been lit on fire the moment you got here, and you haven’t even visited the bar yet.

You finally make it to the end of the long buffet table where there is a large chocolate fountain just begging for you to ravage if only your stomach wasn’t besieged by butterflies. Yoongi glances at you, his own hands too full to get any desserts, but he still pauses as if he’s waiting for you. When you make it apparent you aren’t interested in the mouthwatering cakes and pastries (a big fat lie, but you also don’t want to vomit in front of him and your hundreds of schoolmates), he raises a brow as though he’s surprised.

“What? I’m not that much of a sweet tooth,” you scoff.

“This is coming from the girl who broke into her little brother’s piggy bank to buy some ice cream from a passing street vendor?” he teases.

“That’s the old me. Now, I make enough money to buy my own sweets,” you say smugly.

He rolls his eyes. “Whatever you say.” If you didn’t know any better, you might have thought he looked endeared.

The pair of you search for Hoseok and Seokjin, only to find that the couple had somehow found a table for all of you somewhere near the back. With one last longing glance at the wondrous chocolate fountain, you walk away with Yoongi in tow. You have to push through throngs of people, a few old familiar faces stopping to say hello before they notice the precarious situation on Yoongi’s plate and let you through. You wave at them, promising to greet them later before turning to Yoongi.

“Isn’t it kind of weird to see all these people again? Not gonna lie, it’s almost hard to recognize a few of them.” You note some of the crazy hair colors and drastic fashion choices that you never thought you’d see a decade ago. An even stranger sight, however, is the occasional schoolmates with little ones attached to their hips. You recognize one of the new parents, your mouth dropping in shock.

“Wait, is that Seulgi? And is that her—”

“Her son? Jesus Christ,” Yoongi mutters, equally as bewildered as you. “Damn, I did not expect her of all people to be one of the first to have a kid. I’d always thought it’d be Sooyoung.”

You nod in agreement. You observe the little boy tug roughly at her skirt, his tiny fists making grabbing motions at the cookies on her plate. “Yeah. I always thought I’d have a kid before Seulgi, at least. What a surprise.”

You speak before you think, and it takes longer than it should have for you to realize your mistake. By then, Yoongi’s expression had already morphed into astonishment, his eyes bugging out as he chokes on his spit.

Your cheeks are burning, your mouth opening and closing as pure panic seizes you. You cannot believe that you just said that! No fucking way! Did you eat lube this morning or something? Why are words just spilling out of your mouth at an unprecedented rate?! You’re begging your brain to come up with something, anything, to control the damage, but alas your thoughts remain resolutely frozen.

If aliens were to choose to study the human race right now, they’d be sorely disappointed to find the lack of intelligent lifeforms. No complex thoughts going on over here! Not one goddamn neuron firing in this bitch!

“O-oh, well, that’s…” he trails off. He clears his throat, his jaw clenched as he awkwardly tries to feign composure. “I didn’t know you were, um, interested? Well, n-not that I think you were averse to the idea of having kids, since I remember you mentioning it when we were, um,” he pauses, struggling to find a word other than dating, or together, or in love, or not painstakingly careful around each other, like every conversation topic was a fucking minefield.

“Younger?” you supply. A safe, neutral word. Yay for you! You deserve a snack from your animal care keeper right about now.

“Right,” he nods. He looks down at his shoes, revealing his flushed neck. He’s frustratingly adorable like this, but it does nothing except distract you. “Were you, um, planning on having a kid with your ex-boyfriend? Before you broke up?”

Ex-boyfriend? Why is he bringing him up all of a sudden? You stare at him in confusion for half a second before realization strikes you. Thankfully (or unthankfully), it seems that Yoongi misunderstands the implication behind your words and has taken your little slip-up the wrong way. For once, you are so thankful that Yoongi almost failed Math during the 10th grade and never learned to put two and two together.

“Definitely not,” you bark out a laugh, but it sounds incredibly forced, even to your own ears. You stare at the plate of food in your hands, a wave of unpleasant memories washing over you. “I doubt he’d ever want kids, anyway. Seokjin used to make fun of him and call him the world’s biggest toddler.”

Yoongi winces, his brow furrowing. “How long were you together?”

“Like, two years?” You shrug. “It felt longer, to be honest. Even if we dated for so long, I could never imagine myself having a family with him,” you say.

It was almost the truth, but not quite. While your ex-boyfriend had undoubtedly been a pain in your ass, he wasn’t completely bad, especially in the beginning. You had enough self-respect that you would have ended the relationship earlier if he didn’t have any redeeming qualities. The main problem was that he had a tough act to follow, and you don’t think any man on earth would be able to live up to your lofty expectations at this point, not when you’d constantly be comparing everyone to—

Yoongi speaks up again. “Seokjin seems to really dislike him. Was he really that bad?”

“Seokjin has never really liked any of my past flings,” you admit, rolling your eyes. (You fail to mention that Yoongi has always been the only exception.) “Despite his own disgustingly high body count, I can’t say he was wrong. Sungjae was a self-centered prick who never gave me the time of day. Hell, I was almost thankful when I caught him cheating. It was the final push I needed.”

Even though it’s been so long, the pain of seeing your ex-boyfriend locking lips with a stranger he had randomly picked up from the street still throbs inside of you. It wasn’t like you were particularly sad or surprised to find out, but you’d always been a bit sensitive to people who kept secrets from you. Plus, it kinda sucked to know that they had fucked on your favorite Egyptian cotton sheets.

“Fucking bastard. If I ever saw him in person, I’d definitely kick his nuts ‘til he’s left with a concave crotch,” he seethes, eyes narrowing.

You laugh. You have to confess that the mental image is satisfying. “You don’t even know what he looks like though!”

“Doesn’t matter. I’m sure Seokjin would tell me if I asked,” he huffs. He mutters something else after, but his volume drops to a whisper and you have to step closer to properly hear him.

“What? Sorry, I missed that,” you say, but you could have sworn he said something like “I wouldn’t have done that if it were me” but you couldn’t be completely sure.

“N-nothing,” he stutters, waving off your confusion. He tacks on a smile, but you can tell that he must have been embarrassed by whatever he’d said. If it was anything like what you thought he’d said, then you could understand. It wasn’t like he was wrong, anyway.

He makes a move to rub the back of his neck, but he greatly underestimates the weight of his platter and nearly drops everything. Something deep inside of you kicks in, and your body instinctively moves to hold his plate with your free hand, saving him from a very messy situation. However, that also means that your hands are now touching each other, your fingertips grazing his knuckles.

Instead of letting him go like a normal person, your ape brain makes the first move (as per usual).

“Your hands are still cold,” you say dumbly. You had wanted to say more, like “your hands are still as cold as they were from when we were younger,” but bringing up your past together, even for something so harmless, still feels taboo. You keep your hands where they are, your eyes locked on his. It feels like you’re in the middle of a dramatic TV show while I Will Go To You by Ailee plays in the background. You can almost imagine the numerous ads for random Korean cosmetic products framing the two of you in slow motion.

Yoongi chuckles, reluctantly pulling away from you. You already miss the sensation of his skin on yours. “I guess some things never change, huh?” he says, wavering slightly. He stares at you for another moment before shaking his head, as though he’s pushing away some unwelcome thoughts. He turns away, leaving you behind to make his way to your table.

Despite the unbidden emotions bubbling up your throat and threatening to spill over, you have no choice but to follow.

At the table, Seokjin and Hoseok speak mutely with each other, though the exaggerated expressions on both their faces tell you that they had been in the middle of an argument. When Yoongi takes his place beside Hoseok, the couple pauses in their bickering to greet you.

Hoseok looks at Yoongi’s overflowing plate. “Dude. I know I teased you about being a skinny twig a while ago, but I wasn’t implying that you gorge yourself.”

Yoongi jolts in surprise before staring back at his plate. Weirdly enough, he looks just as shocked as Hoseok to find the amount of food he had gotten, as though he hadn’t even noticed.

Perhaps he was just as distracted as you had been? you think, staring at your own meager pickings. Oops, you definitely didn’t get enough food to fill your ravenous appetite.

“That’s fine. I can share with you guys,” Yoongi says.

Seokjin peers at your plate, smirking knowingly. “Oh, yes. I’m sure Y/N would love to get some of your food. It seems like the two of you either over or underestimated how much you’d eat.”

“Aww, cute!” Hoseok coos, pinching Yoongi’s cheek. “You still have the habit of getting food for her. That’s so sweet that you still remember that about her!”

You had been in the middle of taking a swig of your water, but Hoseok’s comment nearly causes it to spew out from your nose. You cough harshly, beating your chest as your nose burns, among other things.

“Hoseok!” Yoongi scolds. He hits his friend on the shoulder, but Hoseok’s giggles refuse to stop.

“Oh shit, you’re totally right! Remember all those times when either one of us was forced to third-wheel with them?” Seokjin guffaws. “Y/N always orders something gross whenever we eat out together, and Yoongi ends up having to share half of his food with her when she starts moping.”

“I did not mope!” you retort vehemently.

“You kind of did,” Yoongi mutters under his breath, but you catch him this time.

You cross your arms, scowling. “Did not!”

Yoongi covers his mouth to fake a cough, but you can tell he’s smiling from how his eyes start to crinkle.

“You guys are so cute,” Hoseok sighs, squeezing Yoongi into a hug. Yoongi paws at him weakly, but you know that he enjoys skinship too much to push his friend away.  Still, he pouts cutely, his cheeks puffing up like a pastry.

“Anyway, why were you guys arguing a while ago?” Yoongi asks, changing the subject. “Seokjin-hyung is kinda red in the face.”

“Oh, we weren’t really arguing. Hyung had gotten some wine from the bar but he forgot to get me some,” Hoseok says. He glares sharply at Seokjin. “Bastard.”

“You just said we weren’t fighting!” Seokjin whines. He stands up, raising his arms in surrender. “But fine! I’ll go get your damn wine,” he sulks, groaning when he stretches his back and a few worrisome pops resound from his joints.

“Damn, hyung. I know I told you that I hope you grow up well when we were kids, but I didn’t think you’d take it that literally,” Yoongi jokes, earning a sharp laugh from you. Yoongi glances at you then, visibly proud when he catches the wide grin on your face.

Seokjin gasps, offended. “I am not old! I’m literally a year older than you guys! And here I was, about to get you both drinks as well! It sucks to be the nice one in a friend group,” he sniffs.

“Yes, we are eternally grateful for your service,” Hoseok says sarcastically. “Oh, and remember to get some drinks for Y/N and Yoongi-chi too!” Hoseok adds, slamming his palm on Seokjin’s sore back.

Seokjin yelps, before biting his lip. “Owwie, that hurt,” he moans, winking salaciously.

As the closest person to him, you make it your right to jam your heeled foot onto his gelatinous and push away with a shout of disgust. “Leave, wench!” you snarl, but you’re unfortunately drowned out by his cackling. Even so, he does make his leave, affording your table some level of peace.

“So,” Hoseok starts, a twinkle of mischief in his eye. He cradles his chin with his hands, smiling innocuously at the two of you. “How’s it goin’? Are you both having fun?” he says, laced with meaning.

Ah, you had forgotten; peace was never an option.

Though he is undoubtedly less annoying than Seokjin, you still don’t trust the way he’s staring at you, like he’s waiting for one of you to jump into the other’s lap and recreate his favorite porn scene.

(A terrible thought to have, especially when you’d probably be as begrudging as you should be if you were swayed sufficiently.)

“It’s going fine, thank you very much,” Yoongi responds, giving his best friend a stern look.

You nod wordlessly, unable to trust yourself to keep from stammering and making your frayed nerves apparent (if they aren’t already.) You grab your glass and busy yourself with your drink to delay answering.

You don’t notice that you had taken Yoongi’s cup by accident until you’ve already gulped a third of his water, dropping it with a loud clunk. “Oh shit, sorry! I didn’t mean to drink from yours,” you say sheepishly.

Yoongi smiles at your concern. “No worries. It’s just a cup.”

“Sharing cups too? Damn, what happened while Seokjin and I were away?” Hoseok laughs. Yoongi flicks him lightly on the wrist in retaliation.

“It’s just a cup,” he repeats before turning to you. “Sorry, I think he’s a bit drunk.”

“Haven’t had a single drop of alcohol but whatever,” Hoseok says, shoveling a large piece of tuna belly into his mouth.

The sight of him eating reminds you of your own hunger, your food slightly colder now after talking to Yoongi and your friends for so long. You take a spoonful of chicken, the taste not terrible but not as good as you would like. Your face must give your disappointment away because you hear Yoongi chuckling beside you.

“Bad food again? Guess you really are the same,” Yoongi says, low enough that Hoseok wouldn’t hear. He pushes his plate towards you, carefully nudging some of his bulgogi onto yours. “This tastes kind of sweet, so I’m not really into it. But you prefer it sweeter right?”

All you can do is nod in agreement, watching as he piles your plate with his food. His sleeves, which had already been stained previously by some stray bits of kimchi, become even more saturated with sauces and oils. Now that you see it up close, his sleeves seem a bit too long for him, his palms half covered like sweater paws.  

Without thinking too hard, you place your hands over Yoongi’s wrists, his entire body freezing as he waits for what you will do. Gently, as though you’re approaching a frightened kitten, you fold his sleeves until they’re no longer dangling into his food. The gesture is more intimate than you had intended, his proximity allowing you to smell the familiar fragrance of his cologne.

Paco Rabanne, your mind reminds you. Of course.

You pull away, trying your best to appear as unfazed as possible. You clench your hands and dig your nails into your skin to keep them from trembling. “If I’m the same, you’re no better. You always used to forget to pull back your sleeves before eating.”

After a beat, Yoongi returns from his stupor, licking his lips. “My hands were cold,” he explains.

“I know.” You lick your lips too, suddenly parched despite all the water you have drunk.

A forgotten treasure trove of memories resurrects inside of you, things that you had thought had been buried too deep for you to find again. You are filled with this odd feeling, an awareness. An old wound has resurfaced, one that you thought had healed long ago.

That wound throbs, still.

It’s so strange, being with him like this. A piece of your past that has come to your present, both the same and different as you remember. He knows parts of you that no one else will, as do you with him. But those parts were only ever supposed to stay buried: memories, after all, aren’t supposed to be tangible.

And yet, here he stands: real, alive, close.

It leaves you feeling emptier than before.

The atmosphere grows somber after that, neither of you offering much to the conversation. Hoseok is more than happy to pick up the slack, filling the stark silence along with the occasional hums from Yoongi. When Seokjin returns, he makes no note of the change in mood and focuses more on eating and talking with his partner. It allows the two of you to remain deep in thought.

You are pushing your remaining bits of food around your plate when the soft instrumental music playing on the overhead speaker stops abruptly, and the sound of a microphone being tapped prompts everyone to turn to the front of the ballroom. The host of the event announces that the next part of the reunion will begin shortly and encourages all the performers to head to the sound booth to prepare. A couple of your schoolmates rise from their seats, most of whom were the students you remembered being part of choir or band.

You half-expect Yoongi to stand up as well, but he stays rooted to the spot. Apparently, Hoseok is wondering the same thing.

“Yoongi? Didn’t you say that the organizers asked you to perform some of your songs?” Hoseok questions.

“They did.”

“But?”

Yoongi brings his fingers to his teeth, biting on them anxiously. Your hand makes a move to pull them away, but you think better of it. No need to supply your friends with more teasing ammunition. “But I changed my mind last minute. I felt kind of embarrassed to be performing my own songs. I’m more of a producer, not a performer.”

“There’s nothing to be embarrassed about, Yoongi. You’re poggers, as the kids like to say,” Seokjin pipes up.

“I wouldn’t put it like that, but he’s right. A lot of people like your music and think you’re a great performer,” you assure him. “And I like your music, too,” you add shyly.

Yoongi’s hand drops from his mouth, eyes glittering with disbelief. He looks like he wants to disagree with you, but eventually decides to just smile in gratitude. “I didn’t know you listened to my music,” he says quietly.

Before you can reply, Seokjin chooses to interrupt with his migraine-inducing cackle and ruin the moment (as he is prone to do.) “Oh bitch! If you only knew how much this girl loves your music. She even buys your physical CDs AND collects your photocards.”

“I do not!” You scream, flinging a piece of bread at his head. You refuse to peek at Yoongi.

“Don’t worry, Y/N! I collect his photocards too. Wanna trade sometime? I’m missing the one when he still had mint hair,” Hoseok giggles.

“Will the two of you stop? God, it’s like you both had been planning to embarrass us as much as possible,” Yoongi exclaims, incensed.

When neither of them responds, you and Yoongi whip your heads towards them only to find two self-satisfied, smirking shitheads.

“Why watch reality shows when you can make your own?” Seokjin says in lieu of an answer, pointing finger guns. He blows you a kiss with a wink.

You clutch your chest, pretending to wince in pain. “Augh! Poison damage!”

Seokjin scoffs. “Swagever, man. You’re just mad because you’re angry,” he retorts, sticking out his tongue.

While you were occupied bickering with Seokjin, you had not seen that one of your old schoolmates had invited herself to your table. She sandwiches herself in the space between you and Yoongi, bumping you roughly enough to topple you out of your chair.

“What the fuck?” you yelp in surprise, holding onto the table to balance yourself. After straightening back into your seat, you find that your view of the world has become obscured by asscheeks the size of beachballs.

“Hi Yoongi,” she purrs seductively. Or at least, what she thinks is seductive. To you, her voice sounds like nails grating on a chalkboard.

“Hello?” Yoongi says, but it comes out sounding more like a question. It’s clear that he doesn’t remember her name, as he searches your eyes for help. You shrug unhelpfully; you deleted almost all the names of everyone that you had gone to school with right after graduation. Besides, her horrendous plastic surgery makes it even twice as hard to discern her identity.

“Hi Hyejin,” Hoseok speaks up, answering your unspoken question. Oh, right. The name does ring a bell, somewhat. You don’t recall her looking like a cartoon character before, but you suppose beauty standards are meant to be subjective. Maybe she wanted to look like a One Piece character.

Hyejin purses her lips into a tight smile but doesn’t return his greeting. She turns back to Yoongi, bending forward until her boobs are practically smooshed against his face. You wonder idly if stabbing her chest with your chopsticks would cause them to burst like a balloon, or perhaps drain like a puss-filled pimple. Both, you surmise, would be very entertaining to watch.

“It’s been a while since we’ve last seen each other, hm? I heard you’ve been very busy ever since we graduated from high school,” she says, batting her eyelashes.

“Uh, yeah? Some of us have jobs,” he says, passively dissing her. You let out a strangled laugh, causing Hyejin to aim a glare back at you. You bring your (his) cup of water to your lips, feigning innocence.

Hyejin rolls her eyes. “Right. But I meant that you’ve become a real star back in Seoul! I didn’t know you were such a musical prodigy!”

“I’m really not. I just work hard,” he shrugs. He’s visibly uncomfortable, especially since Hyejin was pretty much breathing the same air as him. Every time he leans away from her, she takes it as an invitation to come closer. He is nearly lying horizontally at this point, his back parallel with the floor.

“Humble as well as handsome? My, my. I didn’t think you’d be such a charmer,” she laughs, saccharine sweet. She twirls her dyed brown hair with her perfectly manicured acrylic nails. You rub at the goosebumps forming on your arms, cringing at the phantom sensation of her nails digging into your skin.

“Just spit it out. What the hell do you want so you can leave,” Seokjin interjects. Everything about his demeanor says calm and collected, but the way he presses his lips into a thin line says otherwise. You can sense the air dropping in temperature, despite the embers burning behind his eyes.

“I came over here to ask if Yoongi could give me his autograph, that’s all. I am his biggest fan, after all,” she sulks. She winks at him for extra measure. “And maybe his number too? I’d love to discuss your music with you sometime!”

“Oh, um. That’s—” he cuts off, hesitant to answer. He tugs at his ears nervously, exchanging subtly alarmed glances with you.

You remember that signal very distinctly; it’s a distress call that he would do whenever he needed a way out. He used to do it a lot when you were at social gatherings, especially when people would trap him in boring or awkward conversations. He never did like socializing with people outside his circle, but he was often dragged to parties by his more extroverted friends.

He might be hot as hell with his stylish clothes and jaw-dropping undercut, but he’s still awkward as hell around strangers. When the universe created him, they made sure to keep everything in balance. If they hadn’t been fair, you certainly would’ve died much earlier.

“Yoongi, don’t you have spare CDs of your music?” you quip, dragging Hyejin’s attention onto you. Her eyes narrow imperceptibly, suspicious.

“I do?” He stares at you blankly.

You resist hitting your forehead in exasperation. “Yes, Yoongi. Remember? You left a couple of them in my car.”

Yoongi’s eyes light up in understanding. “Oh, right! I left my CDs. In your car. That we drove here. Together. We came here. Together. Yes, correct.”

From your periphery, you can sense Hoseok barely holding onto his sanity after witnessing that pitiful display. Who can blame him when Yoongi’s infamously terrible acting skills are having their first appearance in over ten years? How he managed to pass Drama class is still a mystery to this day.

“Yup,” you say, popping your p.  You give Hyejin a winsome smile, your hands folded neatly on your lap. You can almost see the steam blowing out of her ears. It fills you with delicious satisfaction. “Why don’t Yoongi and I go get them so he can sign one?”

If her eyes had been made of lasers, you’d be a cauterized mess jumble of organs by now. Can’t say you would regret it either way.

“How kind of you.” She sneers. “Also, I wasn’t aware that you two were still a thing.”

“I wasn’t aware that we were required to inform you of anything,” you retort placidly. You plaster on your fakest grin. “Now, if you can please move your fat ass—I mean, if you can please move out of the way so I can go to my car...” you trail off, gesturing for her to leave.

After a few more indignant sputters on her end, she eventually makes her exit. She throws a couple of poisonous glares, but they go largely ignored by you and your friends. With her gone, you feel as though you can finally breathe fresh air again.

“Great stuff, Y/N! Congrats on winning your first bitch-off,” Seokjin chirps, back to his usual self. You roll your eyes at his antics but smile nonetheless.

“Thanks. I learned from the best.”

Yoongi clears his throat. “So, are we still gonna go?” He looks back and forth from her to you. “Just so we can pretend you actually have my albums in your car?”

“Trust me, Yoongi-chi. She does have your albums in her car.” Seokjin titters. “I wasn’t kidding about the photocard collection.”

“Ignore him. And yes, I do have your albums. I listen to them in my car from time to time,” you say, attempting nonchalance. “I’d hate to give them away to that bitch, but if it keeps her away...”

Away from you is left unsaid, but it’s heavily implied.

(No, you aren’t jealous. You’re above jealousy. It’s not like that bitch would ever have a chance with him anyway, unlike you—!

Woah there, cowgirl. Let’s stay on the right path. Don’t want your heart getting chewed up and spat back out all over again, do you?)

“I’ll just mail you a new one. Signed, if you want. You can probably sell it on eBay or whatever.” He tries to say it like a joke, but his brow is too furrowed to be convincing. (You want to kiss him there and make it go away.)

You don’t trust yourself to speak, so all you do is nod mutely. You stand up and Yoongi follows suit.

“We’ll be right back. If she comes back before then, tell her to scram,” you tell Hoseok and Seokjin. They salute you in response (well, Hoseok does. Seokjin does a very rude gesture with his fingers that is supposed to mimic something explicit. Feel free to use your imagination.)

The walk to the parking lot is a quiet one. The two of you stay side by side, his strides naturally matching your own. Unlike before, you don’t feel the need to fill the silence for once, content to just be in each other’s presence.

The hotel that your reunion is being held at is unusually unpopulated. The lobby consists of a handful of employees milling about, a few of whom look ready to fall asleep on their feet. You nod politely at the bellboy who opens the main doors for you, declining his offer to call the valet service to fetch your car.

“Just hand me my keys. I’ll look for my car in the parking lot.” It wouldn’t be hard to find, anyway. Your beat-up Toyota Corolla looks as though it’s been through three wars and then some.

It isn’t long until you find it parked close to the entrance. You unlock your car from the passenger seat, shimmying the glove compartment open to reveal your collection of CDs.

“Wow, you weren’t lying when you said you listened to my music,” Yoongi says, voice loud amidst the tranquil night. It startles you, and you accidentally knock over some of the albums onto your car floor. On top of the pile lies Yoongi’s most recent album, the one you recall he had released a couple of months ago.

Strange, how just hours ago you were listening to his music on the way to the reunion, only for the boy on the cover of the album to be just inches away from you.

“Yeah, well. You’re a pretty good artist,” you say.

“Only pretty good?” he repeats, amused.

“Don’t push it,” you snort. You grab the album on top, waving it in front of him. “This should be good enough, right?”

He plucks it from your grasp, an unreadable expression clouding his eyes. He chuckles, but there’s an edge of sadness in his tone. “Good enough,” he agrees solemnly.

His sudden quietness is different from the peaceful one before. It’s sorrowful, maybe regretful. He looks like a man stuck in grief.

“Did you know that I didn’t finish this album before releasing it?”

The question seems a little out of the blue, but you answer regardless. “No, I didn’t. They don’t sound unfinished to me.”

“The songs themselves aren’t unfinished,” he explains. He turns the album over, his finger running down the back where the tracklist is printed. “One of my songs never made it in.”

“Couldn’t you have delayed the album launch so you could complete it?”

He shakes his head. “It was actually the first song I finished out of all of them.”

“Then..?”

“It didn’t matter, at the time. I wrote it for someone specifically, but I didn’t want to put it on the album if she—they didn’t listen to it. It wouldn’t matter if the whole world heard that song because only they would understand it.”

“But now? What changed?” Fear and hope run down your spine in tandem when the question tumbles out of you. You hold your breath, and the world shifts from its axis.

But he doesn’t elaborate further.

x x x x x

You return to the hotel after acquiring both an album and some more tension. The album feels heavy in your hands, weighed down by secrets you are still too afraid to uncover. Not that Yoongi would ever willingly divulge them to you—because revealing them would make them real, and making them real would mean you would have to accept them, and accepting them would cause you to—

“They’re gone,” Yoongi announces when you reenter the ballroom. You can’t spot your table from the entranceway, but the certainty in Yoongi’s tone makes you believe him.

“No fucking way. Did those two little shits ditch us to exchange body fluids or something?”

Yoongi grimaces. “Please don’t say it like that. It’s bad enough that I was sitting close enough to Hoseok a while ago that I got accidentally footsie’d by Seokjin hyung.”

You wince, placing a pitying hand on his shoulder. “God didn’t make us his strongest soldiers.”

Yoongi tries dialing Hoseok a few times, but none of the calls connect. “Just my rotten luck,” he groans. He types angrily into his phone, worry creasing his forehead. “He was supposed to be my ride back to his place.”

“Seokjin isn’t answering his phone either,” you say apologetically. “How much do you wanna bet this is part of their evil scheme to leave us together?”

“I don’t doubt it in the slightest,” he deadpans. He sighs tiredly, rubbing his temples. “I suppose I can take a taxi there, but I also don’t know if he’ll be home to open the door for me.”

“Then why don’t you just stay with me?”

You don’t know what you’re doing.

In your head, the offer makes sense. He’s just a friend, you remind yourself. Nothing is stopping you from rekindling a friendship with him. You have purely platonic intentions. Friends help each other out.

Never mind the fact that your heart hasn’t stopped fluttering the entire night. Never mind the fact that you’ve caught yourself staring at him just as many times as you’ve caught him staring at you. Never mind the fact that you don’t want the night to end, not now not ever.

(Never mind the fact that you’ve never quite stopped loving him.)

So when he accepts, you convince yourself that offering had been the right thing to do.

(Maybe. Hopefully. You just wish your heart doesn’t end up as collateral damage.)

The drive home is short, thanks to the late hour. You had asked him if he had wanted to stay until the end of the reunion, but he had declined. “Nothing else left for me there,” he says.

You feel as though he’s hinting at something. Your grip on the steering wheel tightens. “At least I get to keep my album.”

Yoongi laughs, short and sweet.

As much as you try to fight it, sitting in the car with him brings up a lot of memories.

The two of you in the backseat as his older brother drives you to his house for dinner, backpacks filled with crumpled notes and loose pens, a promise of an intense study session for your upcoming exams ready to be broken. You remember how the sky would turn orange in the afternoon, the warm light streaming through the car window and washing Yoongi’s skin with a soft glow.

His cheeks had looked inviting, his lips even more. And you would lean over, kissing him like it was easy. Because it was easy, and you never had to think twice about it.

Your trip down memory lane doesn’t end in the car. As you walk up the steps to your childhood home, you hesitate by the door, your keys frozen over the lock. You can hear Yoongi’s soft breathing behind you, but his presence doesn’t feel as stifling as you thought it would be.

You’re far from being at ease, but you aren’t frightened either. Mostly, you’re just filled with anticipation. Of what? You aren’t sure.

“Excuse the mess. Jungkook is in the middle of moving out so there’s just stuff everywhere,” you say just as you open the door. You toe off your shoes by the entrance, kicking them off haphazardly into the pile of sneakers and boots.

You hear Yoongi huff out a laugh behind you. “Aish, that kid. Still hasn’t let go of his Timbs, huh?”

“He has also been really into chunky sneakers these days. I think he’s finalizing his transformation into Thumper,” you joke. “He’s staying at his new apartment for the weekend with my parents, so you won’t be seeing them. They’re helping him settle in.”

“Really? He didn’t mention moving when we spoke. Where is he moving to?”

“Busan. He and his best friend from college are going to start a restaurant in his hometown. Which is funny, since neither of them are the best chefs.”

Yoongi whistles. “Still, that’s impressive. I can’t remove the image from my head of when he was a kid. He was so scared of anything. He wouldn’t let go of your mom’s leg even if his life depended on it.”

He steps deeper into the house, his gaze jumping from end to end as he surveys your childhood home. You watch him, noting how right he looks standing there in the middle of your living room, like a chipped painting that has been restored.

It’s scary, how easily you’ve accepted him back into this place.

He stays rooted to the spot, the moonlight filtering through the kitchen windows and illuminating his frame. The air pulses with something magical, something dream-like, and it muddles your vision. It’s the only explanation you have for why your chest tightens when he turns to face you, with a gaze filled with sadness, mourning, yearning.

“Jungkook’s height chart is still here,” he murmurs. The small nicks on the kitchen door frame are hard to see, and other people have mistaken them for signs of wear and tear. But he knows what they are because he was there when your mother had etched the first scratch.

He looks at your ancient dining table, his hand brushing over the surface. “This too,” he says, rubbing at a large burn mark on the wood.

“Mom made sure to use placemats after that. I didn’t think a sizzling plate would burn through the table like that,” you say, giggling as you reminisce. “You know, we still use your mom’s galbi jjim recipe. We haven’t found a better one.”

“I’m sure she would love to hear that,” Yoongi smiles, but it fades just as quickly. “It’s so… strange. Being here again and seeing that nothing really changed.”

But things did change. Upstairs, in your bedroom. That night, ten years ago.

You still remember what you had said to him, when you had said it to him, how you had said it to him.

It was a sunny afternoon, the time of day when you’d be on your way home from school. The two of you had stood in your room, neither of you wanting to sit because sitting meant staying, and staying only made this harder.

There hadn’t been many tears in that moment; those were shed only after the realization had sunk in, when you’d fully understood what had happened. At the time, the decision had been as easy as breathing.

Except you had both been drowning. The clock was ticking down to the end of high school, and the inevitable wasn’t slowing down.

Yoongi wanted to chase his dreams in Seoul. You wanted to stay closer to home, with your friends and family.

You weren’t going to be the one to hold him down. You weren’t going to be that person, not when he’s destined for greater things than his hometown could offer—not even a girl who loved him would be worth staying for.

He had suggested it, first. He had been prepared for you to cry, or maybe scream, but you did none of that. Instead, you pulled him close, hugging him tighter than you ever had before. You wanted to make it last, imprint the sensation onto your brain so that his warmth might stay with you, even after he’s little more than a distant memory. You trembled, terribly so, even though the beginnings of summer crept on your skin like a brand.

It’s time to let him go, Time whispered. You refused to listen, just for another moment.

Let me have this last moment, you beg. But Time refused to listen.

“Do you know?” Yoongi had spoken into your neck, had hoped his words would stain there. “Do you know how much I love you?”

Love, not loved. “I did,” you say. You think better of it. “I do.”

When you separated, for good this time, it had left an ache deeper than you could have ever imagined.

But you were young. Young love was supposed to hurt, but it wasn’t supposed to last. “You’ll find others,” your mother had said, brushing a soothing hand through your hair as you sobbed.

Then why? Then why has it lasted this long?

It has been a question you’ve asked yourself, and you’re starting to think that the answer has always been right in front of you.

The answer is standing in front of you: real, alive, close.

“Why didn’t you ever date again?” you ask. You ask even though you know he can lie, if he wants. He can tell you anything and you would believe him.

But he wouldn’t; you know he wouldn’t.

“I was afraid of closing a door that I never meant to close in the first place,” he says. His voice crackles like static, but that might be the blood rushing to your head. He moves toward you but keeps a hand’s width away. Still too far.

He continues. “After that day, when I left,” he swallows, “after I left, I think… I think I left a piece of me with you. A-and I don’t think I ever stopped…” he cuts off, exhaling shakily.

“Stopped what?” you breathe.

“You know.” He waves his hands around helplessly. They fall heavily back down to his sides, defeated. “You know?” he repeats.

You do. Because you are the same. The old wound had never healed; it burns and it bleeds like new.

Your skull feels like it’s stuffed with cotton when you close the distance between the two of you. He circles his arms around your waist, tentative, but he relaxes when you wind your arms around his neck. Your vision is warped, so you choose to close them. You wait, with bated breath, as his warmth inched closer and closer.

The sensation of his lips on yours jolts you back to your senses. His kiss reminds you of your youth, of a love that had made you excited to start your day. Even now, your body remembers, and it rejoices.

The tenderness does not last long before it turns fervent, tongue and teeth crashing like waves against the shore. If his kisses could speak, they would tell you stories of how much he missed you, of how much he mourned the time you had both lost. They would tell you of the days when he’d almost pressed your number onto his phone, of the nights when he’d stare at the polaroids he had kept of you.

They would ask if you still love him like he still loves you.

He tastes of desperation, and you are likely to be the same. It is a desperation you haven’t tasted in years—but it doesn’t feel scary like it used to. Time no longer feels like it’s racing against you, like you had something to prove before the hour was over. This reckless abandon feels like home against your skin—it is an ache being soothed after having ripped your scabs over and over again.

It’s Yoongi.

And when he pulls you to your room, he doesn’t even need his eyes to find his way as his feet still memorize the floorboards. He struggles with the doorknob, forgetting that it always jammed, but it’s okay because you can always teach him again. You can teach him everything again.

The bed creaks under your weights and even the mattress sounds like it is sighing in relief. That sigh echoes from your lips when his hand slips under your clothes, his palm stopping over your heart.

“I won’t break it, this time,” he says. He promises. “If you let me.”

You wonder if he can feel your heart soaring, pounding against your ribs. “I think the line has long been crossed to ask for my permission.” You place your hand over where his is laid. You squeeze tight.

This time, you don’t let him go.

[zeta-in-de-walls]

Tommy’s character and the theme of failure

One thing I’ve always rather appreciated about Tommy’s story in the Dream SMP is how it explores the idea of failure. It can be a challenging one to do right as it means exploring a character’s weakness a lot and can start to feel unsatisfying if the character never succeeds but I feel like Tommy’s story avoids this issue as his arc is ultimately an encouraging one. His character never stops trying or gives up in spite of his losses, showing the perseverance to keep going until eventually he starts to find happiness, no matter how elusive it seems. 

Tommy’s character is no stranger to failure of course but I’d say this theme starts to become prominent with November the 16th. Tommy had two goals: to save L’Manberg and to save Wilbur. He was pretty optimistic about both. And he failed. The day ended in disaster with Wilbur dead, Technoblade, his idol, mocking his heroism and telling him to die, and his home in ruins. It takes him a long time to come to terms with who Wilbur was, separating Wilbur into two in his mind: President Wilbur and the ‘crazy’ Wilbur who blew up L’Manburg. 

But Tommy continues on, quietly moving on as L’Manburg gets rebuilt. No matter what, he still believes in L’Manburg; it’s still alive. Also, he wants to finally get his remaining disc back from Dream, feeling the need to do this after putting it aside for so long.

But of course, things don’t go well. That which he had taken for granted, his bond with Tubbo, was under fire. His personal wish to get his discs back was causing division. A simple prank gone wrong was tearing everything apart as Dream threatened L’Manburg once again. None of these things were purely Tommy’s actions, and yet his actions played a part all the same as Dream essentially took advantage of all of Tommy’s weaknesses. Tommy was being viewed as a liability, a troublemaker, as self-centred, as a problem. 

Tommy’s character likely blamed himself somewhat for his failure with Wilbur and L’Manburg the first time but it had been out of his hands and his reactions were more shock than being truly broken by the events and he kept up his optimism. Yet this time, the problems were not things far beyond his control. It seemed it was his own mistakes spelling his doom and it impacted him quite severely. As much as he recognised Dream as an antagonist here, his friends distrust of him was his failure. Despite his best efforts, he could not convince Tubbo not to exile him. 

Rather than seeing the fairly resilient, optimistic Tommy like the first time he was banished, this time Tommy’s defeated. We see the full effects it takes on his mental state and the narrative does not pull its punches. Tommy’s already depressed and we start to see evidence of suicidal thoughts very quickly. This is all made far, far worse by Dream who encourages his dark thoughts and feelings of worthlessness, telling him everyone’s better off without him while breaking his spirit and making him miserable by repeatedly blowing up his items. 

Dream was of course Tommy’s enemy, he’d recognised before that what Dream had been doing to L’Manburg, with the obsidian walls and insisting on banishing Tommy, had been unfair even if Tommy had been helpless to stop him. Yet over exile we see him really start to internalise Dream’s words, starting to really believe that narrative that he is unloved and a liability, despite his best efforts. As his mental state worsens we see him starting to believe Dream’s lies so much that he begins to believe that Dream is really his friend who cares about him. Meanwhile, he’s angrier and lashing out at the people he cares about, we seem him kill Jack, break the bridges he built and generally lashing out at the people he misses the most. 

So through exile, we see Tommy at his weakest and most vulnerable. We also see some of his flaws with his uglier side, his uncontrolled emotions, his dependency on others, his deep self-worth issues and how he can be so successfully lied to. This deep exploration of Tommy’s character allows us to really see how the repeated failures and setbacks and losses affected his character mentally and depict it as yet another obstacle he needs to overcome. 

And ultimately he does, ultimately deciding to fight back and run away from exile on his own. Tommy’s arc goes to very depressing places but manages to remain an inspiring story by showing you at his weakest and yet also show him never truly giving up but pressing on, in search of that happy ending. Running away from exile has him also realising that Dream is his enemy, not his friend and he commits to fighting back against him. 

But of course the narrative doesn’t entirely move on. Tommy’s struggles and failures continue to plague him as the mental issues he has with self-worth and his confused feelings towards Dream do not go away. He managed to continue but that wasn’t the perfect victory as most of his problems are still there and he’s still the same person. at Techno’s house, we see him and his confusion. He’s lighthearted and joking about but he’s still deeply troubled without a clear stance on Dream or L’Manburg or Tubbo and he clings to the idea of the disc as a simple goal. It seems as if he’s doomed to become the person he hated or make the same mistakes again. He once failed to save Wilbur and it seems as if his greatest failure would be to go down Wilbur’s path too, blowing up the country he once loved. 

And Tommy nearly goes too far. He finally meets Tubbo again and his anger, his issues all come back as does some self-centred behaviour as he declares that ‘the discs are worth more than you ever were’.

And he immediately regrets it. He apologises, he turns around and gives them up to Dream. He won’t let himself turn into Wilbur. 

And yet, every little victory he fights so hard for is met with an even greater failure. He switches sides on Technoblade while giving Dream exactly what he wanted. His story isn’t a happy one in spite of him trying his very best and making the decisions that are right for him. And we can only wonder how inevitable it was or if he could’ve done better for he hurts Techno deeply. Is he doing better or does his very nature doom him to make the same mistakes again and again?

Once ore, we see L’Manburg blown up and this time Tommy declares it a lost cause. Despite his best efforts, it’s over and we can only stare at the ruins of the nation he’d once helped build with Wilbur. Additionally, Tommy is dead to Techno now, that relationship seemingly broken forever. 

But it’s not the end. Tommy is defeated once more, with each failure hitting harder than the last but he doesn’t give up. He keeps on fighting. For all he’s lost, he’s won Tubbo back, and the experiences may have been terrible but he has learned something through all of it. Even if all that is, is understanding suffering a bit better and getting back the courage to apologise and reconcile.

He and Tubbo go after Dream and it’s almost, almost too late. He’s nearly locked in prison forever and Tubbo almost killed. 

But it’s not end. Just this once, it’s not a failure. They bet it all and finally had that victory. The rest of the server comes to save them and Dream gets locked in his prison while Tommy and Tubbo are finally free. 

Course, Tommy’s story isn’t over there. And the thing with this theme of failure is that it keeps on cropping up. They may have finally gotten a victory but Tommy’s issues aren’t over. he tries to start again, building his hotel but the trauma from exile has made an impact on him. It’s something that can’t be solved in a day, but only over a long time. And despite everything, the issues keep coming back. Tommy feels like things are unresolved with Dream and visits him again. 

And he gets locked in prison and dies and then gets resurrected. And its all absolutely devastating and it seems as if Tommy will never get better, that he’ll never truly have his happy ending. His hotel gets stolen from him and its as if everything he tries to do ends in failure.

He tries to sort things out, tries solving things with killing Dream and it just gets Ghostbur killed and the guilt can only eat at him. Wilbur is back at Tommy’s afraid but time has passed and he’s starting to see Wilbur more for who he is. After all he’s been through, he understands him way better than he did before. He once more commits to helping him but Tommy isn’t the naive kid he once was. 

Tommy still lives in the very same spot he always did. He still wants the same things he always did: a home, security, peace, friends, and he’s been experiencing many losses. And yet, his story is not a hopeless one. Because in spite of all that’s happened, he’s still trying again. And he’s learned and can avoid making those mistakes again. Right now, he’s doing better, he’s committing to living peacefully in a way he hasn’t in a long time. He’s been attempting to build bridges and though all his failures haunt him, he is gradually healing day by day, still trying to find that happy ending.

I think Tommy’s story is very cool for the way it really explores these themes of failure. It does not pull its punches, its dark, never easy or straightforward but that’s also what makes it so powerful. Those bright spots, feel so good, they feel so rewarding because they were so hard-fought. We root for Tommy’s character because we’ve seen his journey and really feel he deserves his happy end even though its never going to be perfect and indeed every failure is a mixture of forces outside of his control and his character which he has been trying to improve, learning to be nicer, more forgiving and more aware of his own emotions. He can’t fix Dream nor does he know how best to help Wilbur but he can help himself and that’s what he’s always trying to do. He holds himself to account and always tries his best.

[ivyyreid]

pain: gone, gone

description: reader escapes from abductor.

category: fluff

warnings: mention of wounds, blood, and sexual assault

masterlist

the cold breeze blows your already tangled hair. your vision blurs at the edges, and your long t-shirt provides little warmth.

you have been running for what feels like years. you know you lost him, but you have to keep going.

you have no idea where you are. the only visual recognition you have of the small, quiet town is a starbucks. but it’s closed, like everything else. and even if it was open, you wouldn’t be allowed to go in looking the way you do.

you wear nothing but your underclothes and a long t-shirt. your hair is a knotted mess, and your eyes are wild and large. cuts and bruises decorate you’re body, and blood covers any exposed skin. the only place where the blood isn’t present are your cheeks, where tears pushed the blood away.

you have no idea what time it is, only the understanding that it’s late. the sky’s dark, and everything’s closed. if you’re vision and head would stop spinning, you would have been able to guess that it was about 3am, based on the position of the moon in the sky.

your breath is ragged as you search for an open shop, anywhere to get help.

the night and fog seems to swallow you. you don’t have time to wait around for morning. you are about to give up, curl into a ball and wish for death because you should have died weeks ago, but then you see a red beacon of hope.

a telephone booth.

seven weeks and seven hours earlier.

the moonlight casts an eerie glow on the corn maze. you hold your gun out in front of you, your flashlight under it. 

your breath creates small clouds, and the stalks of corn rustle as you prowl through them.

the unsub abducts women in their twenties, sexually abuses them, and tortures them in a variety of ways, all over a span of one to two weeks. and you and the team have tracked him to this small farmhouse. it’s not where he performs the murders, but it’s where he resides.

you lost spencer a few minutes when he took a different turn, but you’re confident in your ability to take down the unsub alone.

a rustling in the distance catches your attention. your body tenses, and you slowly and silently follow the sound. you hold your flashlight out, keeping your hand steady as you turn a corner, two fingers on the trigger of the gun.

but in the next few seconds, your gun will do you no good.

because as you turn the corner, your head collides with cold metal. and you collapse.

present day.

your shakily dial the number etched into your brain. it takes a few tries, because your hands are wobbly and stiff, but the phone eventually begins to ring.

and it rings.

and rings.

and then stops.

“hello, this is penelope garcia, technical analyst for the behavioral analysis unit of the fbi, how can i assist you?”

and the familiar voice clogs your throat. a tear spills from your eyes.

“hello, how can i assist you”

and for the first time in weeks your lips part and almost form a smile.

“hello, is anyone there?”

and you try and control your breathing, try and talk.

“p-p-penel...penelope.” you breathe, your voice hoarse and scratchy from the weeks of silence, and little water.

“oh my god! oh my god! y/n!” she gasps, and you can hear her voice break. but you know she’s happy.

“penel- penelope....please” you choke out, collapsing against the wall of the booth due to exhaustion.

“hold on y/n, i’m locating you.” you hear frantic typing, and penelope speaks again. “we were so worried, we thought you were... we’ve been trying to find you, i can’t believe it’s you!”

they thought i was dead. and the funny thing is, you think you were too. you felt dead. after weeks of laying in a small cell, being repeatedly violated and tortured, you started to feel dead.

“ok y/n, i have your location. we’ll be there as soon as we can. i’m going to hang up now, please be safe”

two-thousand, five-hundred eighty-five miles away.

the team, minus you, sits in the briefing room. sloppy outfits, eye bags, and a hopeless expression is one thing they all share. the common denominator.

everyone has dressed in dark tones, even garcia, like you’re already dead, and they’re attending one big, long funeral.

at first, garcia tried to keep up her usual quirky, colorful outfits, but after two weeks, it started to become hard.

in the past seven weeks, most of the teams time has been spent in the briefing room, looking over files and trying to find leads. the case was closed after a month of silence from the unsub, but the team is still desperately trying to find you.

emily is about to share an idea about where you could be (that is rather far-fetched) but garcia swiftly enters the room.

everyone knows what the wide smile on her face means.

back to y/n.

you’ve been on the phone with garcia for an hour. she says the team is coming. she says you’re in gabbs, nevada.

now she says they’ll be within 200 yards of you in 5 minutes.

the breath leaves your body.

seven weeks. seven weeks with seeing no one but your abuser.

and now your team is coming. your friends are coming to save you.

a few tears slip out of your eyes, and you look at the sky as a joyful sob leaves your body.

“you’re going to be ok, y/n” penelope says.

the sound of speeding vehicles fills your ears. the quiet that you’ve grown accustomed to is gone, replaced with the sounds of your saviors.

you drop the phone, leaving it dangling from the cord, and rush out of the telephone booth into the street. about two-hundred yards away, you see a black suv pull over, and a group of people get out.

your friends.

“i’m here....help!” you try to yell, but it comes out hoarsely, and quiet.

they don’t see you.

but then, someone turns.

a tall, skinny figure. with a mess of brown hair.

and he stands there, shocked.

you run toward him, limping slightly.

“spencer,” you cry, and he runs toward you.

you crash into him, and he pulls you into a hug, kissing your forehead. he’s calling the team on his radio, and he’s crying, and he’s blaming himself, and your tears are mixing, but you don’t feel dead anymore. you’re going to be ok.

you and spencer are silent. just embracing each other, and crying.

the rest of the team comes, followed by an ambulance. emily’s and jj’s and derek’s and hotch’s and rossi’s voices all mix, but the only voice you notice is spencer.

“i thought i lost you,” he says, resting his head on mine. i shake my head feebly, my tears blurring my vision.

“i love you,” he whispers into my head, and i feel my heart stop.

he loves me. and i love him.

he

loves 

me

loves 

him

“i love you too.”