#like someone really lonely and longing for human warmth and connection

[gorkaya-trava]

staying alive just because humanity still doesn't know much about gender sexuality autism and artificial intelligence and there are new mind-boggling researches coming in the next ten years at least

[forsworned]

No One Noticed ft. Hesh Walker

Synopsis: Feeling lonely and disconnected, you find solace in an online gaming forum where you meet Hesh, a war veteran who secretly works as an elite member of the Ghosts task force. Despite Hesh's initial tough exterior, he's soft for you and bonds through shared gaming experiences, late-night texts, and calls. Eager to bring their digital connection into the real world, You're convinced by your newfound virtual love to fly to his city to explore a potential relationship. Will your connection flourish or go to shit?

Warnings: Canon Game Violence, Canon Violence, Sexual Content, Phone Sex, Sexting, PnV sex, Cunninglingus, Blowjob, 9.8k words

Author's note: This song makes me so emotional and who better to write this for than my love, Hesh

If you could change anything, it would be your soul-sucking day job. Typing away at transcripts behind your desk is tedious, mind-numbing, and downright exhausting. You glance at the clock—it finally reads 4:30PM. A sigh of relief escapes you as you save your work and close the tab. The hum of your old office lamp and the clatter of your keyboard are the only sounds breaking the monotony. Your eyes ache from the screen's glare, and the cold air in the office makes the warmth of your couch even more inviting.

Ping!

The chat pop-up lights up your dim screen, and you feel a sudden rush of serotonin.

MyDawgRiley99: Your day been as shitty as mine?

A soft laugh escapes you as you read his message. Since joining a gaming lobby with a group of military guys during a late-night Fortnite session, you've found yourself playing with them almost every time they invite you. You never really pried into their daily lives; you were just looking to unwind. And yet, some nights, one of them would linger after the others had logged off, not to play, but simply to talk and unwind.

And over time, you began to savor the sound of his voice, finding comfort in its deep, resonant tone. You bite your bottom lip before typing away at your keyboard:

CtrlFreak: Seems like we're both in the trenches today.

As you're about to close out the tab, his reply bubble immediately appears, and you feel your spirits lift.

MyDawgRiley99: Long day at the office?

You scoff, shaking your head. Maybe you’re sharing too much with someone you’ve only met online, but you think to yourself, If he's half as sexy as he sounds, it should be okay, right? Right??

CtrlFreak: Like you wouldn't believe. I'm two seconds away from losing it.

MyDawgRiley99: Well, let's try to fix that. Same time?

You glance at your stack of requests and exhale sharply. Falling behind on deadlines and getting chewed out by your boss isn't your idea of relaxation, but for one night, just one freakin' night...

CtrlFreak: I really shouldn't...

MyDawgRiley99: Just one match?

You snort softly. You know what that means. One match turns into five, with hours of talking in between while you sit in the lobby. Sometimes, others join, and it’s nothing but a constant roast session that leaves you craving more genuine human interaction. It’s a vicious cycle.

CtrlFreak: I'll think about it. MyDawgRiley99: Haha, I'll be waiting for ya.

You shut your laptop and press your forehead against the warm alloy. The constant burnout of your job leaves you unfocused, fatigued, and jittery from all the espresso shots you need just to stay awake.

But you decide to join anyway. He immediately joins your party the moment you load into the lobby.

"Almost thought you wouldn't hop on tonight." His voice comes through your headset, instantly relaxing you.

The corners of your lips curl into a smile. "What can I say? You've tempted me."

He chuckles, and it's flirty, light, fun, and easy. In this moment, you want nothing more than to relish the escapism that comes from the unknown soldier on the other side of your screen. Amidst your grueling workday, his voice is like a coolness that soothes your burning heart, pulling you from the depths of mundanity into a world where conversation flows as smoothly as his laughter.

You tap on your controller, trying to control the strange desire stirring within you. You have no idea what he looks like—or what any of them look like, really.

Truthfully, you never bothered to ask for names. You referred to each other by the first initial of your real names. His being 'H.'

"You wanna talk about it?" The sound of him munching on chips comes through the speaker, causing you both to laugh. "My bad."

"All good. Nah, I'm just burned out." You readjust yourself on your sofa and lean back against the cushion, closing your eyes as you savor the sound of his smooth tenor.

"I get that. Trust me."

You feel that smile returning. "Right, right."

"Well," he begins, playfully defensive at your casual dismissal. "I'm just sayin'—"

Your laughter echoes through the headset, and he sighs, the smile on his face growing at your teasing. "Always gettin’ me worked up."

"You fall for it every time." You retort. Your mirth fades, and it's quiet for a moment. You tap at your controller again, playing with the joystick as your heart begins to race. There's almost a need to ask him to reveal himself to you. After all those nights dreaming about him, you find yourself yearning to know what he looks like.

"So," he clears his throat, shaking you out of your mild daze. "um, I don't want you to feel like you have to, but..."

You sit up a bit, feeling your throat go dry at his sudden change in tone. You can literally feel the tension through the connection.

"Well, I'm just kind of curious about, you know," his voice holds hesitation, an eagerness to pry. It creates a charged silence between you. The playful teasing shifts into something more earnest, and you can almost hear the curiosity in his tone as he tries to find the right words.

"Uh huh," you playfully taunt. You can tell where this is going, and you can't help but feel exhilarated at the thought of finally knowing what he looks like.

He chuckles, and it sends a thrill up your spine. "Uhhhh," he awkwardly laughs again, and you join in. The smile on your lips stretches broadly across your face, making your cheeks sore.

"I mean, we've been talking on here for months, so I'm just curious about how you look, you know?" He sighs. "Aren't you?"

You giggle at the apprehensiveness in his voice. "Seems like it's been weighing on your mind."

"Something like that." He clears his throat. "Obviously, it can stay this way. No pressure."

You scratch your head, feeling trepidation seeping into your bones. It isn't a now-or-never moment. You could simply say no or maybe another time, but you feel this irresistible pull from him. You think that even if he isn't the most attractive guy, it's not the end of the world...

"Okay." You simply say.

"Really!?" He exclaims, and you laugh at his enthusiasm. It's endearing, really. It's the lack of a social life that's really doing it for you. You think that maybe if you started going on Hinge again, you wouldn't have this problem of getting emotionally attached to men in Fortnite lobbies. But all of that falls into the back of your mind as you return to the present.

You're a bit tentative, but the words naturally come out. "Sure, I'm curious too." You breathe out, fiddling with the wire of your headphones between your fingers. There are dents from the hours you’ve spent on your console, talking to him during the late hours of the night.

"Yeah?" The way he says it sends a thrill up your spine again. You just know this man is sexy. Dammit.

"Yeah." You reply, almost reluctantly, as you walk over to your desktop and pull up your Discord server. Your cursor hovers over the video chat button, but he pings himself in, and you reflexively close the tab.

"What the fuck?" He laughs, and you crumble at his reaction, hiding your face in your hands.

Your heart pounds as you feel warmth crawl into your cheeks. "I'm sorry!"

He's still laughing at your reaction. You can't tell if it's because he thinks it's funny how quickly you exited or if he finds you as endearing as you find him.

"Are you shy?" He asks, still chuckling. You swallow thickly, not wanting to answer immediately. It's been far too long since you've been in the dating scene, and you’ve forgotten the simple pleasure of face-to-face flirting, reading the micro-expressions of the person across from you. To you, it was like a game—analyzing the strain on their face when you talk about your interests instead of your kinks, the bounce of their thighs when you're not throwing back sexual banter, or the way you check to see if they bear their teeth at you when they smile. It was easier knowing he was just a voice, but now it seems like he's reeling you in for more, and you find yourself struggling to say no.

You didn't want to deal with the high highs and the low lows anymore. The boring simplicity of a quiet relationship is what you craved, but a military man? That's tumultuous, grueling even. You didn't want to go back to nights of crying yourself to sleep over a man who refused to take your calls or reply to your texts because of their emotional distance and lack of therapy. But you're craving attention, and he's so willing to give it to you.

You groan at his reaction. "Fine," you grumble as you open the chat again and nibble your lip, lingering over the tab that shows he's active.

"No pressure," he teases, a hint of mischief in his tone. It's daring, and you’re no coward. You click the tab, joining the video call, and your heart races as you wait for it to load, stripping off your headset.

And then there he is, swaying in his gaming chair, his face lighting up when you enter the call.

"Oh shit," he grins, and you cover your mouth to hide the joy in your expression because he's fucking hot. The grittiness of the webcam blurs his handsome features, but you can still make out the sharpness of his jawline, the intensity of his viridian eyes, and the darkness of his short-cropped hair. He strokes the stubble on his cheeks, not even bothering to hide his obvious attraction. He's brunette, rugged, and attractive enough to make you want to buy a lottery ticket because you can't believe your luck. "What's up, girl?”

You feel the color drain from your face at his tone, and you quickly wave in the most awkward fashion. He looks even more amused. You realize you're not used to being looked at this way by men, and your shyness catches him off guard. "What's the matter?"

You shake your head. "N-nothing," you stammer, fiddling with the wire again. The momentary distraction of your desk lamp is all that keeps you from looking at him directly.

"Come on, don't be shy now," he coos, smiling so widely that it almost makes you want to melt into your chair.

You stare at the small thumbnail of yourself on the screen, feeling somewhat more exposed than you're used to. After a few seconds, you finally allow yourself to look at him again.

"I don't know," you laugh. "I wasn't expecting you to look like that."

"Oh yeah?" He chuckles, and you catch a glimpse of his dimples. "What were you expecting, then?"

"An ogre," you joke.

He throws his head back, laughing. "Damn, you really had no faith in me." he jokes back, and you're both nervously giggling at your first video chat. It’s awkward in all the right ways. The tension between you increases, but it’s different now. The curtain of anonymity you both sought on this platform has been lifted.

You shake your head, still bashful from his handsomeness. It irritates you. One hot guy gives you attention, and you're falling to your knees.

"Not one bit." You tuck your lips into your mouth, and he leans his chin on his palm, admiring the details of your face. You're just not ready to admit your attraction yet. You’d rather let it linger in the air, maybe make him pine for your compliments.

There's another pause as the playful banter fades into a softer, more charged silence. The tension hangs in the air, neither of you quite sure what to say next. You chew your lip, still somewhat unsure of how you want this to go. But before you can overthink it, he speaks up again.

"So... maybe we could meet up sometime?" His voice is tentative, like he's not quite ready for your answer.

You blink, taken aback. "Oh, um," you bite your bottom lip, feeling the tension in your shoulders. "That sounds cool."

His smile widens, and there's something almost boyish in his excitement. "Yeah?"

You nod, giving him a shy smile. "Yeah."

"Alright then," he grins. "Let's see where this goes."

He sways in his chair again and grins. "So, did you wanna talk about it?"

And that’s the start of long conversations over the phone—your actual phone—after he asks for your number, and you coyly give it to him. More often than not, he's testing the limits of your humor with dark memes, sending you selfies and mirror pics in his uniform that you shamelessly drool over, and FaceTiming you during his night shifts to keep him company while you sprawl out on your bed.

In his downtime, he shamelessly fists at his dick at the mere thought of you. Those pretty lips on his leaking tip, licking up the precum that oozes out and coats the plushness of your flesh. He wonders how you taste, what makes you moan, because at this point it’s obvious you’re both really into each other. Neither of you wants to break the ice—you simply enjoy the flirting and the cutesy banter. He loves the way you giggle at his stupid jokes and how you seem to show a little more skin the more calls you have.

Like when you get up from your seat, and instead of wearing your usual sweats, you’re now sporting a pair of curve-hugging plaid shorts and a flimsy tank top with straps that are always slipping off your shoulders. And it’s painfully obvious when he flares his nose playfully at you and glances away. Maybe there’s a subtle gesture of him adjusting himself, and you throw your head back, not bothering to hide the delight in your laughter.

"You know what you're doing," he quips, drumming his fingers on his work table.

You lean back in your chair and fiddle with the squishy cactus stress toy, stretching out the arms and letting them go with a pop. "I have no idea what you’re talking about," you chime with a giggle.

His eyes fall on your braless figure, cleavage spilling out of the V-shaped collar, tracing the outline of your nipples that peak through the sheer fabric.

"Yes, you do," he insists, gripping the hem of his compression shorts as they strain against his throbbing dick.

There’s a glimmer of mischief in your eye. "And what's that?"

He doesn’t miss a beat. "Being a sexy little vixen." His eyes roam your body again, and you hide your burning face. God, his directness was always so sexy to you. He never bothered to hide the way he felt. Especially when he would heart every selfie you sent him, throwing praises your way like you were the only woman in the world.

"You're not foolin’ me," he presses on, grabbing his planner and clicking his pen as he begins to jot something down.

Your curiosity piques. "What are you doing?"

He chuckles. "Wouldn’t you like to know?" He provocatively glances up at you. "I’m writing down the dates that I’m off."

"For?"

"When I meet you."

Your eyes widen at his boldness, and a shy smile graces your lips. "Meet me?" Your heart picks up its rhythm, and you’re trying your hardest not to get too giddy about it.

He taps his metal pen against the paper, leans back in his chair, and licks his lips. "Is that a problem?"

You hadn’t expected him to be so forward about meeting you. Fuck, he looks so damn edible when he manspreads, looking nonchalant and relaxed. He can sense your yearning but also your hesitation.

He leans forward again, sincerity coming easy to him. "Look," he begins, wanting to comfort you, to assure you he won’t take advantage of you, but he knows it’s a privilege to be in your presence.

"I know you’ve probably heard this a million times: 'You won’t get hurt, you can trust me.' And I know it’s an absolute luxury to even exist alongside you."

That makes you blush. It’s so easy to tell that he was raised right.

"But this," he gestures between the two of you, "I want to know if it’s real. There’s only so much I can tell from behind a screen."

You understand what he means. The essence of a person—their aura, their charisma—is so much more tangible and real when you meet them in person. Seeing their quirks, their habits, feeling their energy. It’s different.

"I know you know what I mean."

You nod. "I do." You lick your lips, searching for the right response. There’s really no doubt in your mind that you want to meet him. I mean, for God's sake, he's mouthwatering. The way his abs peek out from under his loose shirt when he stretches, the playful way he flexes his taut biceps, his calloused hands hardened from war and long hours at the gym. He's just delectable all around.

But are you willing to take the leap?

Somehow, you're still asking yourself that as you peer out the window of the airplane. Your ticket is paid for—first class, with all the accommodations…it’s like a dream.

The landscape below is a patchwork of rebuilt cities and scarred land, signs of a world that has been through hell but is clawing its way back.You can’t help but wonder if this is a glimpse into the future you’re stepping into. A life beyond the screen, in a world where the remnants of war are slowly being overtaken by new growth, where hope is becoming tangible again.

The plane touches down smoothly on a newly restored runway, and as you step into the terminal, you’re greeted by the sight of soldiers, workers, and civilians mingling in a place that once might have been a warzone. Your heart races with anticipation, nervousness, and a hint of something deeper. This isn’t just about meeting him—it’s about stepping into a world that both of you are trying to find your place in.

He’s waiting for you just outside the baggage claim, leaning casually against a pillar. The grittiness of the webcam is replaced by the crisp reality of his presence. The sharpness of his jawline, the vividness of his eyes, and the way his uniform fits him perfectly—it all hits you at once. You realize that you weren’t fully prepared for how striking he’d be in person.

The moment stretches between you, just like it did during your video calls, but now there’s no screen to hide behind. His eyes roam over you, drinking in every detail as if he’s trying to memorize you all over again. And then, with a grin that sends a shiver down your spine, he steps forward.

“Hey,” he says, his voice lower and more resonant in person, sending a thrill through you.

“Hey,” you reply, trying to keep your cool, but the way your voice trembles gives you away.

His grin widens, and he reaches out, his hand brushing against yours. The touch is electric, sending sparks through your body. He notices the way you react and chuckles softly, not even trying to hide his satisfaction.

“You’re just as pretty as I imagined,” he says, his bluntness making your cheeks heat up.

“You’re not too bad yourself,” you manage to tease, though your heart is pounding in your chest.

He laughs, a sound that’s warm and genuine, and it eases some of the tension between you. He leans into you, enveloping you into a warm embrace and you easily return it as you snake your arms around his neck. The smell of his aftershave engulfs your senses and you relax into his touch. “Come on, let’s get out of here,” he says, withdrawing from you to grab your bag effortlessly as he leads you toward the exit.

Outside, the air is fresher than you expected, a sign that nature is beginning to reclaim the earth. The city around you is a mix of new constructions and old ruins. It’s almost nothing like the California you remember. He leads you to a sleek, black SUV and opens the passenger door for you.

As you settle into your seat, you glance at him as he climbs in, feeling a mix of emotions. This is the man you’ve spent hours talking to, flirting with, and getting to know through a screen. Now he’s here, real and tangible, and the chemistry between you is undeniable.

He catches you staring and smirks, reaching over to brush a strand of hair behind your ear. “You alright?” he asks, his voice soft but with an edge of excitement.

You nod, your heart racing with anticipation. “Yeah,” you nervously avert your gaze and nod. “Yeah, I think I am.”

Hesh nods, giving you a reassuring smile. “So, here’s the plan,” He hands you the aux cord. And you grin as you take it from him. “We’re gonna head back to the base,”

He sees you visibly stiffen. “But,” And you raise your brows waiting for him to continue. “We’re going back to my place after we check you in.”

You let out a sigh of relief and he laughs, as he watches you plug your phone in and shake your head. 

“Come on, you know that I live off base.” Hesh occasionally glances over at you, as if making sure you’re comfortable while you shuffle through your playlist. He seems to be the picture of calm, but you can sense the underlying tension that lingers between you two.

You say nothing and end up settling on a song you both love (mostly you).

You should stay real close to Jesus Keep that bottle at your hand, my man

He chuckles at your pick, and reaches over to hold your hand. A wave of comfort washes over you. “Go ahead. Tell me I’m Lana coded for the hundredth time.”

You giggle at him and sit up a bit. “You are!”

He shakes his head and lets the song play, humming along to the tune and you’re actively burning it into your mind. It’s something you want to remember every detail of. The way he squeezes your hand while the other is on his steering wheel, tapping his finger at the steering wheel. How thick his dark lashes are, how pretty his viridian hues are when they peek over at you to make sure you’re real and not a figment of his imagination.

As you approach the base, the outer level is a standard Marine military facility, with its usual array of buildings and vehicles. It’s not completely unknown to you. It wouldn’t be the first time you’ve been on a military base. Military personnel pinlines the large metal gate and one of the guards approaches the vehicle as Hesh fishes out his ID.

“Alright, here’s the deal,” Hesh says as you pull up to the guard. “I’ll have to check you in at the visitor’s center first. They don’t let civilians past this point without clearance.”

You nod, trying to hide your nerves as he pulls into a parking lot near the visitor’s center. He senses your apprehension and turns fully to you, gently grasping your hand. “Hey,” He reaches out to cup your chin, and your breath catches in your throat. His earthy green eyes are trained on you. “God, you’re so pretty.” His fingers gently trace your chin, and you fluster under his fixed gaze. “We’re gonna be outta here in no time, and we’ll spend the whole week together, m’kay?”

“Okay.” You squeeze his hand back, and he brings your wrist to his lips, placing a yearning kiss to your skin. It feels as if it were searing to the touch.

Hesh escorts you into the visitor center, a space designed for civilians to wait while military personnel handle their business. He gives you a reassuring smile before heading to the more secure parts of the base. You watch as he disappears into the maze of corridors, leaving you with a mix of excitement and nervousness.

After what feels like an eternity, Hesh returns, his face relaxed and his eyes bright. “All set,” he says, offering you his hand. “Let’s get out of here.”

You take his hand, and he leads you back to the SUV. The tension between you two is almost palpable, but it’s softened by the warmth of his touch and the promise of time together away from the base.

The scenery changes to one of a regular suburban neighborhood.  From the white picket fences to the restaurants that line the streets to the long lines of cypress and palm trees, you wouldn’t even know the difference. 

“Oh my God, there’s a Taco Bell!” You point out and Hesh laughs at the incredulousness in your tone. 

“Yeah, it’s like any other cookie cutter neighborhood.” He turns into a cul de sac, pulling into the driveway of the biggest home on the block. It’s a mediterranean style home, classic red roof tiles, a stucco exterior with metal work accents. There’s personal touches of greenery, succulents in various sized terracotta pots, a handful of olive trees and wildflowers that maze around the stone path. 

“This is cookie cutter!?” You exclaim, as he helps you out of the vehicle. “You have a sweet crib.”

He smirks at you, carrying your suitcase with one hand and your hand in the other. “Just wait til you see the inside.”

And somehow the interior is much more obnoxiously cozy and earthy. It’s truly a delight to be in a home where beachy tones of seafoam green, turquoise and cerulean are the main color scheme. It really makes you feel like you're on vacation. 

“...and if you’re really down, we can go to the beach…[name]?” He calls out to you and your wandering eyes land back on him. He grins at you, closing the space between you two. “You listenin’?”

“Not really,” You shamelessly admit. “Your place is lovely. Like something out of a magazine.”

He chuckles as he moves past you to climb up the winding staircase with your carry-on and suitcase. “Play your cards right, and this could be yours, too.”

You turn around ripping out of your stupor, “Huh?”

“Nothin’.” He softly snorts, and you follow him the stairs as he shows you to his room. He gives you the option of the guest bedroom or his. You notice little things around the home that paths the walls, small trinkets, memorabilia and photo frames of family members. It all looks different in person, even if he’s given you a house tour over FaceTime.

Peeking into his room, you notice how everything is neatly organized, band posters of Creed, Papa Roach and the like are hung up on his forest green walls. A diffuser runs on his nightstand and it smells like something between sandalwood and amber vanilla. He’s taken all the necessary precautions to make you feel homey.

“Your room.” You smile at him, and he’s more than eager to please. The conversation flows just as easy as it does in person, even as you tell him to turn around while you strip down to get into your bikini.

He promised you all the beach time you could get, and despite the minor jetlag that nags at your slightly foggy mind, you were in the mood to sunbathe. Bonus that you get to show off your summer bod and Hesh is more than willing to peel off his shirt for some much needed skin-to-skin. Even if he can just wrap his taut, tanned arm around your waist to claim you, he’s just happy to be in your company.  

“So, what about the others?” you cock a brow at him, as he flagrantly eyes your figure while you build a sandcastle.

He shakes his head and scoffs, viridian hues trailing down the exposed parts of your skin. “Others?”

You tuck your finger under his chin, signaling for him to look at you and not ogle your body. “Yeah, your other teammates that we play with?”

“Oh right…” He gets lost in your eyes and the way they softly crinkle when you smile, followed by the melodic sound of your laughter and he can’t help but to laugh with you. “They don’t need to know you’re here. Besides, they’re preoccupied.”

You tilt your head. “With?”

He pauses. There’s vacillation behind the earthiness of his eyes. A certain type of secrecy that goes beyond the typical confidentiality that comes with being in the military. “Just stuff.”

“Okay,” You shake your head, not wanting to interrogate him. In the past, he had mentioned that a lot of the things he does out in the field require the utmost discretion and you’re not one to scruple around and find out.

You’d done enough research and background checks to know that he was a military brat, a veteran, has a dog named Riley (whom he misses terribly, but had to go on an op with his brother, Logan), and is oddly passionate about sourdough starters. He’s always open to answering your questions that don’t revolve around his work, which again you’re not entitled to know but you couldn’t say you weren’t the least bit intrigued.

The rest of the day plays out like a dream. Not a single one of your vivid, maladaptive daydreams could touch this. From the way he carries you to the waters of the Pacific Ocean and you cling to him with sea salt in your hair to the way your first kiss sends a thrill of pure electricity up your spine as the sunsets. His lips are soft, plush and salty from the water, and his fingers and hands are as calloused and rough as you had imagined them.

And you literally can’t get enough of him. Especially when he just can’t seem to keep his hands off of you. Seriously, like you need a crowbar to pry them off because he’s attached to the hip. Of course, he lets you go when you need to rinse off the beach from your skin in his shower, but he can’t help but let his thoughts wander. Your wet, naked untouched body just standing under his enclosure he’s installed in the backyard like you’re waiting to be ravaged by him. 

Because dammit that’s what you want. To have him slip in, wrap his strong arms around your waist, pebbling your nipples between his fingertips as he kisses at your neck and bends you over--

“Oh, don’t mind me. I’m just gonna wait here for as long as you need.” He sarcastically remarks over the sound of the running water. You giggle at the playfulness in his tone.

“Oh, I’ll take all night, baby.” You scrub at your skin with the loofa he gave you, watching as the soap becomes sudsy white foam that covers your body. And he accidentally gets a glimpse through the cracks in the bamboo casting and--Lord have mercy on his soul. If it weren’t for the body wash he’d given you from earlier, you’d be all exposed to him.

“Don’t tempt me.” He mutters, sitting on the nearby bench just outside of the shower, fiddling with his drawstrings of his swimming trunks. It’s a failed attempt at trying to quell his dirty thoughts of you and keep his wandering eyes away from the little opening he can see you through.

You swallow thickly as you exfoliate your back, but your arms are sore from trying to get back into shape before meeting with him. It wouldn’t be the worst thing to propose…

“You wanna wash my back for me?”

There’s a pause. The weight of your words and the heavy silence is agonizing, leaving you in regret and pre-dejection. 

“You sure?” He says a bit too quietly, and you hear the sound of his feet shifting against the sandstone. 

You lick your lips and nod. “Yeah, I mean only if you want to…”

He chuckles, “don’t have to ask me twice.” And you hear the scuffling of his feet hitting the grit of the sandy covered stone floor. You hold your breath as he pads on the bamboo panels over to you, and you hear the distinct sharp inhale the moment he gets a full glimpse of you. You feel your shyness overcome you knowing you are now completely bare to him, but the sound of his wet swimming trunks being casted to the side makes you flinch. 

His warmth and his scent casts a shadow over your mind as he envelops you with his arms, taking the soapy loofa from your hands. You can feel his heart drumming against his chest as your shaky breaths mingle for a bit, but the bristles scrub at your upper and lower back preoccupy your mind. You can feel how he squeezes the soap down the swell of your ass and gets to work again.

“I said, my back.” You susurrate, half turning to him and he smirks. 

“My bad, should I stop?” He presses his lips against your shoulder and peeks up at you with dampened dark lashes. You shudder at his touch. It had been long, too long. His touch is making the pyre in your lower belly ignite and you can’t help but lean your weight against him, exposing your neck to him. “I need you to use your words, sweetheart…”

You whine at his pressing need for verbal confirmation. “No, don’t stop.” He hums against your skin and he gently exfoliates over the peaks of your breast, concentrating on how they pebble under his touch. He experimentally thumbs over the hardened bud, tweaking it between his fingers as he kisses the sweet spots on your neck. It’s a pleasurable feeling that leaves you tingly and throbbing. 

You can feel his hardening length pressing against your ass and you gently brush your fingers against it, and he reflexively bucks his hips. “Eager, are we?”

“I could say the same for you!” You chirp, and his laughter reverberates against your back. He gently takes your chin to face him, and he glances down at your flustered gaze before softly latching his lips to yours. His hands, however, do not stop moving. They’re roaming over the expanse of your breast, squeezing at your thighs as he continues to kiss and squeeze you. 

It’s fucking hot the way he can’t help but intermingle his moans with you, whispering your name as he finally slips his fingers between your thighs. And you glance up at him with a half-lidded gaze, lips parted and scrunched brows. 

Fuck, fuck, fuck…

He’s totally melting under your fervent gaze, and the sweet, sweet feeling of your velvety folds against the rough pads of his fingers. 

“Oh, fuck…David…” You gasp, lolling your eyes to the back of your skull. His dick isn’t even in you yet and yet, his fingers are doing more for you than any other man. It’s so easy for him to work both of his fingers into you as he uses his palm to rub at your clit.

“My God, you are so wet.” He croaks, thrusting his fingers into you, past your g-spot and to press against your cervix and you collapse against him when you feel your orgasm practically jump you. He feels you spasm against him, walls fluttering against his fingers and presses his lips against yours again, taking in every one of your little moans and gasps. 

And after you’ve caught your breath, there’s a flash of amusement that takes over his handsome features. “I didn’t think you’d cum so quickly.” He tenderly kisses your shoulder, and then your cheek and up to your hair. You feel your cheeks burn, silently cursing him for his agile fingers, but the humiliation is over in seconds when you turn your body to press flush against his. 

The kiss is electrifying, adrenaline shoots through you and you’re craving more and more of him. His lips part from yours for an instant and he tucks the dampened strand of hair behind your ear. 

“Not everything all at once, sweetheart.” He grins, and your jaw slightly drops at his taunting. He bites his lips at the disbelief in your expression. He wants to ensure that you know that he’s not in it for the quick fuck, that you’re more than that to him. That he’s more than happy to please you, but the sex part. He wants to wait a little. Make sure that you’re really comfortable and you’re not feeling like you’re being coerced into it. 

You sigh as you surf through the 1000s of channels he has on 70 inch plasma screen TV while he takes a long ass piss. Like seriously, this man drinks water by the gallon. But you’re content. You’re sitting on the end of his bed, clad in his Nike hoodie that sits oversized on your body and he’s quietly admiring you from the bathroom door way.  He’s wondering how he got so damn lucky. 

He silently treks over to where you’re perched over the bed, and squats in between your legs, snaking his strong arms against you. His eyes hold an earnest expression, “I can’t believe we met over a Fortnite lobby.”

And that causes you to giggle and rehash all the late night matches you’ve had together, how he’s listened to you pour your heart out to him about all of your troubles and even Venmo’d you a handful of times out of the kindness of his heart.

He watches how your eyes droop, and how any minute you’re about to knock out cold. And soon he’s ushering you under the covers, snug as a bug under his cotton-linen sheets. He joins you from behind, the scent of you is overwhelming and he nuzzles his nose into the crook of your neck. The floral, musky scent of your shampoo is interwoven into your hair paired with your soft snores, easily helping him drift into a deep sleep. 

And when you wake up in the morning it still doesn’t settle in. Not when you wake up to him sleepily rubbing his eyes and peering up at you with that damn grin of his, not when you’re beside him brushing your teeth over his sink and definitely not when you’re sitting across from him on the kitchen bar as he makes you breakfast with nothing but his grey sweats barely hanging off his hips.

It’s cute. The way you two feed each other pancakes and eggs, and how you share the equal feeling of bafflement when you’re facing each other, unable to undo the heap of twisted limbs. Despite his lack of interest in having you meet his teammates yesterday, he wants nothing more than to show you off. In fact, that’s all he does when he’s holding your hand out in the shopping area, buying you anything you happen to say is cute or that you try on that’s very much to his liking. 

He’s getting stopped by soldiers who are also meandering through the streets of San Diego and word gets around fast because soon the crew knew about your sudden appearance all over his Instagram story and the group chat is poppin'.

Logan: No way you flew her out here… Keegan: Kids’, got balls Merrick: I’ll have a word with you when we get back Kick: Wait…who is this again?

“I’m assuming they’re taking it well?” 

He hears your musing voice, and he tears away his gaze from his phone screen to look at you with a beguiled expression. He can’t help but be giddy, as he watches you pad over to him in nothing but his t-shirt, coffee in hand as you take your seat in his lap like it’s reserved just for you. And it feels so natural to have you in his arms like this. You fit so perfectly against him and he’s having to dent his skin with half crescents in an effort to ensure he’s not dreaming.

But reality strikes at you again when you realize that even though you are on vacation, you’re still getting email notifications of transcript requests nearing their deadlines. Your mood shifts and he peeks over at your phone screen, taking your hand in his as he brushes the hair from your face. 

“Is there anything that I can do to make you feel better?”

And that single question is enough to ignite the balmy feeling between your thighs. Your lips instantly find his as you straddle his lap on the love seat, and a small sound of surprise followed by pleasure emits from him, soon finding themselves latching to the side of his throat and he’s threading his fingers through your hair. 

You find yourself returning the favor, slipping your fingers under the waistband of his boxers as your tug at his hardened cock. Vulgarities skid past his mouth as he tries his damned best to fixate those pretty green eyes on you, but they right open when he sees you’ve settled between his thighs. Your plush lips against his aching, swollen tip. 

A groan leaves his lips as you do nothing but tease him with the tip of your tongue before taking him wholly into your mouth, but he doesn’t want to cum yet. He wants to have experienced you fully. So he’s lifting you off the carpet and laying you on the cushion, spreading you wide and dick throbs at your glistening pussy before immersing himself in it. And God, his tongue is as heavenly as his fingers are. He’s not shy at all when it comes to lapping you up like it’s his last meal, shaking you out so he can get even more of you. 

The sounds of his slurping are loud and lewd, humming against your clit right before he inserts his fingers into you and you’re quick to ride out your climax, grabbing at the short dark locks of his hair as you grind against his lips. He doesn’t even move off of you, the sensation of you writhing beneath him as you try to pry him off arouses him, but he obliges when you begin to whine. 

He lets go with a pop, your arousal drips down his chin and you welcome him back with a deep kiss, tasting yourself on his tongue as he pushes you further down onto the couch. You don’t want to stop, you crave him far too much in this instance to halt his actions. Especially when you’re realizing that he’s naked now, and you’re left in only his shirt. But his fingers are dancing over your stomach, reflexively dipping in at his touch until he gets to the peaks of your breasts. 

The fabric lifts off your body and he takes you in. “You’re seriously so stunning, [name].”

You like that he says your name. Not just some generic pet name like baby, or babe. It means something to you, to him. That you’re not just an object for his sexual gratification and you liked that.

You instantly fluster under his gaze, pupils blown leaving only the remnants of his sage green eyes. “Thank you.” You finally muster up the words after what feeling like forever. He rips his gaze from you and the thought finally comes to him. “Um,” He eyes flicker toward the staircase and then at you. “Upstairs.”

“Right.” 

--

You chew on your lip and the anticipation builds between you as he takes your hand and leads you upstairs, giggling as you scoot on his cool bed sheets, and you feel the warmth of his hard body against yours. He leans over to his nightstand and it feels like a millennia before he fishes out a condom. You peek over to look at the box and the receipt is still attached to it, brand new which explains why he was fiddling with the cardboard for so long.

“Just for me?” You chime and he pokes his tongue in his cheek, trying to hold back his grin while he tears open the foil with his teeth and rolls the latex over his hardened length. His forearms are on either side of your head.

“You think I’m just out here layin’ pipe? Of course I just bought them.” He bashfully scratches his neck and you can’t help but laugh at his sheepish grin. You lift your head and cup his stubbly cheeks to bring him into a fiery kiss and he quickly returns it, feeling his cocking enfolding at your entrance. 

You gasp at the way his length brushes against your weepy folds. “Please.” You murmur between kisses and he dithers for a second, searching your expression for any hint of uncertainty. But you’re all there, determined and in desperate need for his touch. 

“Are you sure?” He whispers, and you frantically nod. He chuckles at your insistence and he aligns himself with your sopping core, gently prodding into you until he bottom’s out and you’re both already gasping. The saccharine feeling of being filled up is unmatched, especially when the guy that’s in you is the one you’ve been dreaming about for months. 

And you don’t want him to go slow. No, that doesn’t feel like an option right now. Not after how long you feel like you’ve waited for this moment. Overwrought with desire, your fingers dig into the supple flesh of his ass and he lets out a broken whimper in the form of your name. And he seems to get the hint because he’s quickly ramming into you, your hips connect in a frenetic manner, but it’s so so so good. 

His viridian eyes are reaming at the sight of your dulcet features quickly melting into a lewd expression and milky moans that spill out from your lips. He kisses you haphazardly wanting nothing more but to make you cum and trust that you’re nearly there. He’s hitting all the right places and his lower abdomen is rubbing your puffy clit in just the right way. 

One hand on your hip and the other makes its way to wrap around your throat and, oh God, that look in his eyes and you’re totally done for. His name is clawing its way out from your throat as you feel the maddening rolls of passion drowning your soul with rapture, exposing your neck as you swell with a sigh and falter with a shudder that cascades up and down your body. Kiss after blissful kiss and Hesh feels every ripple in your body. It’s the catalyst of his peak, breaking under the pressure of your pulsating walls and convulsing body. 

It’s the warmth of your neck as his teeth latch onto the sensitive skin, your strangled cries, your labored breaths that make it feel like his orgasm was flaring red, white and blue. You watch in awe as all the dewy green in his eyes fall golden like little stars in the sunlight peeking through his blinds. You’re both panting, melting into each other, and laughter spills from your lips as you hold one another closely. And the adoration seeps out of his bones when he notices that he’s springing back to life and you’re quick to respond to his passion.

And you don’t even know how many hours it’s been. Between refueling breaks and trips to the bathroom, you literally can’t keep your hands off each other. You begin to lose count of all the positions he’s putting you in, but you know one thing for sure--it’s gonna hurt like a bitch in the morning.

Hesh can hardly shake you awake. You’re all wrapped up in his arms, sharing the same covers and he breathes you in as you nuzzle into his neck not wanting to move from your cozy position. He stares at the ceiling, counting the stars he’s placed in the form of all the constellations he knows. Holding you like this and feeling the warmth constantly spread through his chest when he takes a little peek at you. It’s driving him nuts. 

If he were being honest with you right now, he’d say that he’s done searching. That he’s found the one. But of course, he knows that you’re accustomed to the 1-2, hit-and-run, cum-and-go lowly standard of men who have fed you the same bullshit, so he reserves on that. 

Your eyes flutter open and a sleepy smile stretches across your cute features, and he brushes away the strays to gather as much of your visage that he can. 

“Sleep well?”

“I slept amazing.” You stretch your limbs like a cat down to the spread of your toes, but you feel the dull ache in your muscles and groan. “You must’ve put me in every position imaginable.”

A repentant smile plays on his lips as the warmth sidles into his cheeks. “You never complained.”

“Shut up.” You mimp, and he chuckles at the way you purse your lips and puff your cheeks at him. 

Hesh's heart tightens as he watches how your face contorts into one of sadness, the reality of your limited time together gnaws at the both of you. You wish that you could both freeze this moment—just you, him, and the quiet morning light filtering through the linen curtains. But time, as always, marches on, and soon enough, the outside world will come knocking and you’ll have to go back to your boring desk job and he’ll have to go back on his confidential ops.

"You know," he begins, his voice soft, "we've still got a few more days. How about we make the most of them?"

Your eyes meet his, and there's a flicker of understanding. You both know that this time together is precious, and neither of you wants to waste a single second. The romance between you two is budding rapidly and you want nothing more than to cling to him, getting lost in the small blip of time that you will forever cherish.

"I'm all in," you reply, your voice firm despite the lingering exhaustion from last night’s activities. "What do you have in mind?"

A mischievous grin spreads across his face as he pulls you closer, his hand resting on the small of your back. "How about a lazy day? We could just stay in my bed,” he caresses the exposed part of your tummy, leaving a wake of gooseberries, “order some take out,” he nips at your earlobe and you sigh at his touch. “and see where the day takes us."

You laugh softly, the sound like music to his ears and you clasp your arms around his neck. It’s odd. You both feel like at any given moment either one of you will vanish into thin air and you’ll wake up alone in your loft on the other side of the country. "I think that sounds perfect."

For a moment, you both fall silent, simply enjoying the comfort of being close. But the weight of the week ticking away lingers in the air, a reminder that this isn't your everyday life. It's a bubble, fragile and fleeting.

He leans in, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead. "Whatever happens after this week... we'll figure it out, okay?" His heart tugs at the brimming tears in your eyes. He knows you’re trying to withhold all your pent up feelings and he wants nothing more than to help you squash the negativity that holds more space in your brain than it should.

You nod, your hand finding his, giving it a reassuring squeeze. "Yeah, we will." And you mean that.

With that, the two of you settle back into the warmth of the covers, letting the world outside wait a little longer. For now, it's just the two of you, and that's more than enough. 

And just as you two had expected, the week flies by like it’s nothing. Days, afternoons and evenings of lovemaking, dancing on the beach, and him expertly instructing you on how to make the perfect sourdough loaf. How you whisper to each other about your deepest, darkest secrets. And he finds himself opening up to you about how he’s always felt like his neglectful upbringing made him slightful resentful and hardened. Oh how the tears flow at the admission that follows. 

You learn that Hesh thinks he’s everything that his father is not, how his brother, Logan is the Golden Pony boy but he doesn’t blame him for it. How sometimes he wants to push away his little brother more than anything, but he’s all he got left. Your heart aches at the thought of him keeping all of these emotions pent up, so you listen to him and hold him tight; dewy eyed, tear stained and puffy. 

These were the types of memories you wanted to create with your dream partner. It’s whimsical, light yet heavy, but not uncomfortable. It’s like eating the most luscious dessert, but its weight holds pleasantly in your stomach. 

But it leads you back to where you had initially met. The airport.

The hustle and bustle is muted as the both of you sit next to each other, snugged up as he traces patterns onto your jeans in an attempt to calm you. He doesn’t want you to leave. In his mind he’s already thinking of all the time you’re going to spend in the future--and you? 

You’re already withdrawing. You’re thinking that there’s no way in hell that this will thrive. Living in two different parts of the country was not ideal for a budding relationship. For an online friendship, sure, but this easily became more than that.

“Hey,” He nudges you, and your eyes flicker up to meet him. He can sense how your energy has changed, and how you’re detaching from him and he hates it. “Stop that.” He makes you face him and your eyes are distant.

“Stop what?”

His stomach lurches. The doubt creeps back into your mind, and you feel yourself succumbing to the emptiness that you’ll endure when you get back. You’re trying to protect yourself from the inevitable heartbreak and pain of saying goodbye and he sees right through it. His eyes soften, but he’s determined to shake you out of your gloomy state.

“Stop thinking this won’t work,” he says firmly, continuing to draw the patterns into the fabric of your jeans. “I can see it written all over your face, and trust me, I get it. But we’ve got something here--something real, tangible.” His voice falters just slightly as he racks his brain to find the right words. “I’ve been thinking a lot about this…about us.”

The life in your eyes returns a bit more and he knows he has you hooked onto his words that causes your heart to skip a beat.

“This week…it’s been everything I’ve imagined and more.” He cringes slightly at the corniness of his words, and you can’t help but chuckle a little. He’s being so sincere, and you feel yourself choking up. “And I know we’ve just met, but I feel so comfortable with you.” He rolls his eyes a bit at his own words. “Like I’ve known you forever.” And you giggle again, nodding along with him.

He is right, of course. It really does feel like coming home, and you could get used to that feeling.

“I don’t want this to end, I don’t want to go back to talking behind a screen and twiddling our thumbs, wondering when our communication is going to dwindle.” Hesh says, facing you now. “Look, I know this might sound forward,” Your chest tightens at the earnesty in his expression and his words. “But I want to make this work. Like, really work. Like I want you to be here, with me.” He runs his fingers through his short cropped hair and he feels the blood rushing to his cheeks. “I want us to figure out a way to move you out here--whenever I’m stationed, wherever we need to be.”

You feel a surge of mixed emotions--fear, hope, relief? It’s enmeshing and turning in your stomach. It’s what you want to hear, but you’re terrified. 

“David, I…I don’t know…” You croak out, feeling the tears cascade down your cheeks, but he shakes his head and wipes them away. 

“You don’t have to decide right now, [name].” he reassures you, and you feel your throat tighten at how donnish he’s being. “I just want you to know I’m in this for the long haul. I’ve found the one,” He softly smiles. “And it’s you.”

And it’s like a freakin’ dam burst or something with the way you’re crying, but it’s tears of real relief. The idea of staying with him to build a life together, it’s not something you went as far as even imagining. Not until now.

“No bullshit, [name]. I’m not up for losing you.”

“I don’t want to lose you either,” you profess, but your voice trembles with the heavy weight of your feelings. “But the thought of leaving everything behind…it’s a lot to take in, y’know?”

He nods. “I know it is,” he murmurs, pressing a tender kiss to your forehead. “And I’m not asking you to do anything rash. I just want you to think about it. To know that I’m ready to make this work.” He squeezes your hand. “Just say the word.”

You let out a shaky exhale, and nod. “Okay.” You laugh a bit as he dabs away at your tears again. “I’ll think about it.”

His face lights up with a brilliant smile as he kisses your wrist and then pulls you into a tight hug. The sound of the announcer calling your flight ripples through your little moment and reality sets in again. This time with hope. Hope that something real will flourish from this.

As you pull away and walk to the terminal together hand in hand, you pause to stand in front of him. He easily towers over you and you remember how he looked when he picked you up when you touched down. He cups your face and softly kisses your lips, letting go too soon to place a chaste kiss to your forehead.

“Text me when you land.” He caresses your cheek and you nod with a small smile on your face. Your heart aches when he pulls away, his pinky lingers for a second before he lets go, but it’s filled with something new.

His eyes linger on you as you become smaller, boarding the plane and you turn around once more to find that he’s still watching you. His expression is a mix of longing and resoluteness. You wave, and he returns it with eyes full of silent promise.

As you finally step into the plane, you can’t help but wonder if this is really just the beginning of your new life.

masterlist

mini taglist: @milkteaarttime @keegansshark

[tinytinyblogs]

Monster

While others may perceive him as a monster, in your eyes, he is anything but.

(Mentioned self-loathing, stranger to lover, gender-neutral) 2,1K words

A narrative drawn from inspiration found on Pinterest.

Ateez masterlist here

Your insights and reactions make these posts come alive. Love reblogs, comments, and all the good vibes welcome ✨

The world saw San as a stormy cloud, like a large creature in human form making loud noises. His uniqueness, deeply ingrained in him, was like a red mark on his soul. Instead of being curious, people were scared of him. He is a destroyer; everything he touches ends up broken or injured. His name was rarely spoken, like a forbidden sound in the normal places. He was naturally isolated, surrounded by whispers and avoided looks. Every time he tried to touch someone, it ended in disaster, leaving behind only pain. The laughter he wanted to hear was like a song in his dreams, unfamiliar in the regular world. His heart, wanting warmth, stayed in the cold shadow of being rejected. Every morning reminded him of his lonely existence, and every laugh mocked his silent cries. The world seemed to have created a lonely prison for him, and its key was made from a distorted view. As bitterness grew, San felt a change in the ground beneath him. Whispers turned into screams, and avoided looks turned into full-blown terror. He, who was pushed away, started pushing others away. His pain, fueled by the world's negativity, started fighting back, a desperate plea for acknowledgment and connection, even if it meant creating it through the fires of fear.

The monster in him believed that nobody on earth could be kind to him. His heart was like a closed garden with no space for the difficulties of human interaction. And then there was you—a spark in the lonely landscape of his life. Your eyes, without the usual flinch or disgust, seemed like windows to a world he thought he could never access. When you bent down to pick up his red scarf, a gift from a long-gone mother, your voice, a soothing touch to his troubled soul, broke the silence. "You dropped this," you whispered, the words carrying a melody he'd never heard before. Hesitantly, he reached for it, his eyes meeting yours once again. There was no sign of fear or disgust, just a gentle curiosity. Surely, you knew. You must have. Whispers followed him like crows, a dark group casting shadows on his soul. Yet, there you were, untouched by fear, offering a connection like a bridge across a deep gap. The red scarf, once a symbol of his isolation, now became a delicate lifeline—a glimmer of hope in the overwhelming darkness. Could it be? Could someone truly see beyond the scary exterior and catch a glimpse of the boy he might be? The question lingered in the air, a silent plea resonating between your gazes.

The monster in him, a twisted snake of fear and distrust, showed itself. You, with clear eyes and a kind voice, bravely peeked beneath the damaged mask he wore. A tiny bit of hope grew in his empty heart, but old hurts quickly killed it. He thought, maybe, your innocence was fake, and your kind look just a passing fancy. He couldn't let himself believe in such a cruel trick. The lonely street, covered in swirling snow, matched the emptiness inside him. The freezing cold got through his worn-out coat, but it was the isolating loneliness that really made him numb. Every gust of wind reminded him of his solitude, an unwanted friend in the quiet. Then, a bit of warmth broke through the darkness. A careful tap on his shoulder, a whisper in the icy air. Surprised, he turned to see you standing there, a steady light in the snowy darkness. Your closeness woke up his senses, but your gaze stayed calm, as pure as the first snow. Stuck in your eyes, a captive of your comforting presence, he felt drawn to a part of himself he hadn't explored before. This vulnerability, this dependence, made him feel uncomfortable yet strangely comforted, leaving him angry at himself.

The monster in him woke up, confused. You, offering kindness like he had never experienced. Your hesitant smile appeared as you pulled out a paper bag from under your coat, holding it like a precious ember against the winter cold. With a gentle push, you placed it in front of him, silently inviting him to share. San, cautious but curious, looked inside. In the bag, like a small sun warming the chilly air, was a bread shaped like a fish, its golden crust still carrying the warmth of the oven. Yet, it wasn't just the warmth of the bread that surprised him. As he cautiously broke off a piece and tasted it, a different kind of warmth spread through him, thawing the corners of his long-cold heart. The simple act, the unspoken understanding in your eyes, sparked a glimmer of hope he hadn't dared to nurture. He enjoyed the bread, each bite a small rebellion against the loneliness he had worn like a second skin. The taste – sweet, yeasty, with a hint of the sea – turned into a connection, a song playing just for him. In that moment, the scary part loosened its grip on him, and a crack appeared in the icy fortress he had built around himself. It's cozy, but it's not because of that fish-shaped bread – it's because of you.

The monster in him roared, a basic clash against something he didn't know. You, a guiding light in the chaotic landscape of his life, showed a kindness so real, so different from the harsh treatment he was used to, that it stirred up his very soul. Was this warmth you were giving real, or just another cruel illusion in the emptiness of his existence? Doubt and questions messed with his mind like hungry rats. Lost in his thoughts, he didn't notice the cautious stares of the people around, fear evident as they moved away from the monster they thought he was. But in the midst of his contemplation, a glimmer of hope appeared. It was the image of you, stepping out of the store like sunshine breaking through heavy clouds. He braced himself for the expected – your eyes turning away, quickly passing him, silently confirming his outsider status. However, you looked into his eyes, and everything around him paused. A smile, a real and bright smile, spread across your face, like a flower blooming in the desolation of his lonely world. He stood still, unable to believe it. Never before in his memories had he seen such a sight.

The monster in him backed away, like a quiet puppy retreating after a surprising encounter. He couldn't believe what was happening. You, like an angel in a world full of troubles, were walking towards him, a bright smile on your face. The whispers from the people around, like a mean song, stopped when you showed up, and their fear faded away in the face of your constant kindness. He stood still, stuck in the whirlwind of you coming closer. The city sounds turned into a dull noise, and all he could focus on was you. When you stopped, like a heavenly being in the busy marketplace, the air was filled with unspoken questions. Your hand, like an offering from another world, held a simple candy, a symbol of something much bigger. "Do you want some?" your voice, a melody he never thought he'd hear, floated in the air. His world, full of shadows, couldn't possibly fit someone like you. He was the scary one people talked about in quiet voices, the one kids hid from, the one fear kept away. But there you were, a real embodiment of hope, offering him a sweet treat dipped in kindness. It's sweet, but it's not because of the candy – it's because of you.

The monster in him once like a growling storm cloud, had now become a quiet shadow. However, doubt still stuck around, like a fog hanging onto the edges of his thoughts. Was it real, the warmth and kindness you shared, like a sprinkle of care on his lonely life? He really wanted it – the feeling of sunlight, a sense of belonging. He wanted to believe in you, in the chance you brought, like a fragile bridge connecting his solitude to the rest of the world. So, he began to notice you everywhere. Not actually everywhere, but in sounds like your laughter or in the sunlight like your smile. He took a risk and started talking to you, cautiously at first, like opening a rusty lock, scared that it might make noise. But with each moment he stole with you, each word he shared, the rust started to loosen, and the door to his heart opened a bit wider. Listening to your voice, the stories you told with laughter and vulnerability, made him feel alive again. He wasn't just the scary one people talked about in quiet voices, the shadowy thing. You saw him, really saw him, not with fear but with a kind curiosity that melted the frost around his heart. And in return, he found the forgotten joy of smiles hiding in the corners of his own lips.

The monster in him started moving, a dark feeling of fear twisting in his stomach. The idea of you, the light he wanted the most, turning away and leaving him in never-ending darkness - it was a terror too deep to describe. The silence between you felt like a big gap he really wanted to fill, but he didn't know how. He couldn't take the heavy quiet, so he spoke up, his voice rough with hidden pain. "I'm a monster," he said, the words feeling like a sharp blade cutting through his throat. Your reply, simple but deep, hung in the air, like a rope thrown across the gap. "No, you're not," you said, your voice filled with gentle confidence. He raised his voice, saying, "I am," his eyes teary, letting out emotions he had kept inside for a long time. "I've always been different; people always avoid me. I destroy everything; I hurt people. Are you still pretending you don't know?" he exclaimed, without a hint of a smile, while you sat next to him, watching his inner struggle. "I don't care," you answered calmly. This wasn't news to you; warnings about him had reached you when you first came to town, but you never let those warnings change your view. After expressing your lack of concern, he went quiet, stood up from the bench, and started walking away. "San," you called after him, and he stopped without turning to look at you. "You've never been a monster in my eyes," you reassured him.

It was the monster within him, wanting you like a dry desert wants rain. Even though he tried to keep away, staying alone, your image stayed in his mind like a ghost that wouldn't leave. So, the scary part gave in, leading him to your door without a plan. With hesitation, his hand touched your door, knocking gently. You answered right away, warm and welcoming. There you were, looking beautiful in your soft clothes, a smile on your face like a sunrise. Without saying anything, you moved aside, inviting him in without words. In that moment, under your kind eyes, the scary part inside him did more than want – it felt a strong desire for you. He stepped inside, like a hesitant traveler entering a special place. Your scent, familiar and comforting, wrapped around him like a gentle hug. The scary part, so used to darkness, blinked in the soft light of your presence. You guided him in, offering not judgment but a safe place. And the scary part, for the first time ever, felt a bit of hope, a chance for redemption, just because you let him in. "I'm sorry for taking it out on you," he whispered, and you replied with a soft sound. "No need to apologize, San. Not at all."

And suddenly, the monster in him fall silent as he rest his head on your lap. his head nestled in your lap, a haven of warmth and comfort. Your fingers combed through his hair, each touch a silent symphony of tenderness. He inhaled the scent of you, a balm to his troubled soul. "Can I stay like this?" he murmured, eyes fluttering shut. "Can I keep feeling this… this sunlit warmth from you? Can I just be with you… always?" His hand found yours, resting it gently on your knee, anchoring him to this precious moment. He yearned to bottle it, to preserve it against the inevitable tides of time. "I don't need anyone else," he whispered, his voice thick with emotion. "Only you." A soft smile curved your lips. "Then stay," you breathed, pulling him closer. "Stay here with me, san. You're safe here." In your eyes, he saw not a monster, but a reflection of the man he could be. You treated him with respect, with an understanding that pierced through the layers of darkness he'd worn for so long. And perhaps, under your gentle touch, the beast within him was finally learning to recede, replaced by the flicker of a hopeful future. The monster in him has vanished as he found his home, it's no more.

©Tinytinyblogs

[mistressarcane13]

The Development of Durgetash

Sorry this is really long but the implications of Durge and Gortash's relationship are just too fun not to think or write about.

I think an important thing to understand about Enver and Durge’s relationship and the way in which it would develop, is that they are both inherently lonely people. One killed any person who gave them warmth and love (whether they had any real say in the matter or not), and the other was someone who as been abandoned and betrayed repeatedly by people they trusted. Either way, Durge has only been able to experience the warmth of another through violence, and Enver has only ever been able to put trust in things of metal and gears.

They could not make a real human connection, and as sad as it is at the very least the Durge had a family who had once cared about them, however, Bhaal made it very clear that they would never have that all outside of what he could offer, and if they were to search for it outside of Bhaal or even stumble upon it, all it could ever end in is blood. Enver on the other hand had no foundation of trust with anyone from the beginning, his parents sold him. Then the entry of his youth was spent being abused, beat into submission. Where his developing mind could only ever come to one conclusion, you are only safe at the top, only safe when you are the person who can hand out all of the damage. While it doesn’t excuse anything either of them did, it does give you a way as to how they can internally justify all of their horrible actions.

But then apply all that to how the beginning of their partnership began, both probably intending to manipulate and betray each other at some point, at least in the very beginning. Then what is probably the most terrifying thing happens to both of them, they realize they care. Dare I say I think it takes them both a long time to realize this, both desperately telling themselves that “this was just a part of the plan” in an attempt to distract what has happened.

The one thing I am sure they had both promised themselves they would never do again. I do think Enver had an easier time coming to terms with this, especially after Bane also seems to take a liking to Durge. But there was most likely some catalase in which Durge had an amazing opportunity to kill or betray Enver and yet stubbornly stays by his side. However, Durge lives in constant terror. When will the urge take control, when will Bhaal demand Gortash’s head as a sacrifice? Why does every thought they have that lingers a little too long on Enver turn into a design of his death, and why has this begun to bug them. They had thought they had finally desensitized themselves to this, and yet here they were with this weight in their heart that made it hard to breathe. They haven’t experienced terror like this since the urges first started. And I think, unlike Enver, this fear never goes away. It’s obvious because of the letter but I think they learn how to manage it.

Once they get past that, this is where their friendship really blooms. Two evil nerds, geeking out all the time. Gortash can go on for hours, days, months about his inventions, and there is Durge who hasn’t had a conversation verging this close to normal in so long that they just sit there, happy. Asking questions, and seeing how smart Durge is canon-wise, most likely offer suggestions and theorizing how certain mechanics work. Then there is Durge who has had to turn violence into a craft for survival and likely some form of sanity. Who can probably go on for just as long about anatomy, decay, how every weapon, acid, fire, and anything of the like affects the flesh.

Then somewhere along the line, where they worked together out of convenience, they are now the other persons go to for anything. They are asking each other for advice in contexts where it doesn’t necessarily make sense. And there scheming turns into just conversations of the future. They don’t even notice how casual they have gotten with one another until I’m sure Orin or Sceletius points it out to Durge.

If we apply all this to Durgtash, it does make their prospective relationship the most grueling slowburn anyone as ever seen, in theory.

I don’t think either of them notice at first their feeling for one another. I think they are both pretty emotionally constipated. However, I think Gortash realizes first, I think he distrusts not only everyone around him but also his own feelings to realize something is off. Where as Durge (this I guess depends on how you characterize your own personal durge, but for now I’m talking about og and my own Durge.) I believe has numbed themselves so emotionally it is not going to hit them. Or at least not until Enver suggests something stupid and they fight. Durge has a knife to Enver’s throat (which I don’t imagine is a rare event) and for once they aren’t immediately consumed of thoughts of spilling his blood right there. No, the knife is there to stop Enver from doing something stupid, because Durge is WORRIED. The realization hits like a brick, and Durge in way out of character backs off and leaves. Hoping to stuff the realization back in the box where it could be stored in the back of their mind, but it’s too late. Now all they can think about is how Bhaal will torture them both by having them kill Enver.

This obviously leads to tension, so much tension, that neither of them will address or acknowledge. Both are worried about offending their gods, and at the end of the day, this is the first person either of them have been able to truly care about in who knows how long. Not only could they ruin that, but also the plan that they have been working away at for presumably years now.

I think it only builds of course, the closer they get the more small touches they exchange. Never too close though, never too many. Just enough for minds to slip to other places, only for a second. Though they would never actually… right? They get drunk together just to have a reason, have an excuse for certain behaviors, never taking it too far but minds always wonder.

I honestly don’t think anything would happen for a long while, not until some catalyst. Whether it be a bad injury or a victory, adrenaline takes over, and they kiss. Heat of the moment they will tell themselves and each other. However, the Pandora's box is open now. I think it still takes them a moment to break, anywhere from a day to a week, both too horribly stubborn for their own good. Until the conversation lulls to a stop, and the tension alone at this point would turn anyone mad, and the delusions they have been trying to sell themselves finally snap. No one knows who kissed the other first, who first started ripping at clothes, at this point who cares. It is a passion with teeth and claws, there is blood on their teeth and under their nails. In that moment all their sins mix, gluttony, greed, pride, and lust as they almost try to consume one another, like they are trying to meddle together. As if metal and flesh could ever truly mix.

And I think for a time after, these two horrible messed up people find peace in one another, maybe even true happiness as their plans come to fruition. Enver Gortash, a man who breathed life into metal gave it a heart, and Durge, the person who left cold bodies in their wake by taking last breaths and heartbeats.

They were going to rule the world together, and then Orin happened.

[hwnglx]

hi, would san from ateez be okay with ldr? thank you

haven't read for him in a good minute, but i remember liking his energy.

9oc, 5osw, 5ocrx, lo, knoc, paosw, quoc

hm, see for san it's difficult, because if they're the person of his dreams, like all he's ever wanted, he wouldn't let long distance stand in the way of their love. he's such a passionate boyfriend (to an extent delusionally in love) he wouldn't wanna allow physical distance to be an obstacle.

however, he can also get obsessed with his lovers. like i'm talking, you're all that i see, you're all that i wanna see, let's not care about anyone else and forget about them, you're the only one i want around. he seems to be someone who actively seeks and is in need of human connection, and can often find himself searching for someone to attach himself to, because he can feel lonely by himself. the most precious existence in his life (his love) not being next to him could cause a certain emptiness, and a lack of emotional connection he craves so much. he wants to have quality time in intimate settings, deep late night talks, look them in their eyes and feel their emotion directly. there's a different sort of warmth that comes with someone's presence, that's something he'd miss.

he's someone who really values communicating with his partners. he likes building this emotional and intense bond through sharing their worries and thoughts with each other. he wants to zone in on them, literally have tunnel vision and openly showcase his obsession, but also loves the thought of his partner being equally as passionate. long distance would make him worry and trigger his overthinking. he'd overanalyze their texts, or tone of voice through the phone. stare at his phone for hours waiting for their message. his lover being far away could trigger san's trust issues.

so in conclusion, san isn't very fond of the idea, but if he's head over heels in love, long distance wouldn't make him wanna give up on them. he'd probably have you flown in all the time, or find some sort of way to have you with him no matter the risks. he just wants you next to him, period.

[phxntomhives]

"The parade of battlers" analysis

SINCE NO ONE IS DOING THIS??? WHY??? I WILL DO IT

Hopefully my wrong takes will trigger someone and you all will get a decent analysis

Eng lyrics because I don't know japanese are from the official music video! Also warning, English isn't my mother tongue.

Lost in an unacceptable tragedy

An unfading warmth quivers blue in the depth of my eyes

Stifling impurities leave keloid scars and

Even now, still mourn for days gone by, never to come back

Staking my life, spitting blood and vomit

All I want to do is lead a beautiful life

But why can't you hear

Me telling you not to stumble

Love turning on its head, fiction caught in a tangle

Say bye bye to mundane concepts

See how the compensated formless stand imposingly

Their presence is a sight to behold

Rip apart, drag and reveal

Throw away all inferiorities

Even the raw emotions of cursing someone

Take them in like an offering

Just skilled at pretending to be human

Searching for those other than monsters

Like the blue shimmer of

A star of the first magnitude

Far from having enough faith

This utterly ridiculous destiny won't retreat

Fill the air with the echo of the marching boots

Let the parade of the lonely ones begin now

Everything in this world, there isn't much

Difference between the atrocious or noble as you think

Somewhere up in the sky, someone is making selections

To ensure the cycle of birth and passing is upheld

Though we have prayed and knelt down

Our prayers have been cremated

And ignored with a "So what?"

So kind

A colorless encounter, pupils of glass

Thought they may shatter to pieces,

You laugh your head off, saying, "you must be kidding"

You give the finger as you spew poison and let it all out

Scorched, boiling and trembling

A blazing fire from the past still smolders

That remorse still within me

I'll burn and retaliate in full

There is no such thing as eternity, so

There is no ending until all turns to ash

Then why not play

With fire in a refined manner?

No more need for empty rhetorics

Such hollow, scathing criticism

Burn this ceaseless stone-throwing

The parade of the lonely ones has just begun

There's no love, no love, there's no love there

There's nothing, there's nothing, there's no truth

There's just one, just one

In this world, just one person, one person

Question fanatically and

Live the shit out of this world

ANALYSIS UNDER THE CUT BECAUSE THIS BITCH IS LONG

ALSO MAJOR SPOILERS FOR THE MANGA!!!

Yana, dear, are you sure this is the intro for the Weston college arc??? And not the blue cult??? LIKE, REALLY REALLY SURE??? My comprehension of text can be lacking in more than one way and I just followed the vibe but... I don't think I am that wrong on some points? You are seeing it too, right?

I feel like the song has a mix of present, past and future along with different POVs and I hope I have been able to separate them well.

The colors are just to show the lyrics and i changed it because pretty.

What I can actually connect to Weston Arc

"Then why not play with fire in a refined manner? / No more need for empty rhetorics Such hollow, scathing criticism. / Burn this ceaseless stone-throwing" Which could very much be related to O!Ciel's pyromaniac episode lol. He didn't forget

"The parade of the lonely ones has just begun" : at this point the "parade of the lonely" could very much be the parade of the bizzare dolls considering the amount of reference there is to them. And it would be nice considering in this case the sentence is right after the stone-throwing Purple house, since the students were "transfered" in the there.

If the previous point is correct then also here, we are talking of the bizzare dolls: "This utterly ridiculous destiny won't retreat / Fill the air with the echo of the marching boots / Let the parade of the lonely ones begin now". I guess the "echo of the marching boots" could be the sound the dolls made before getting free during the midnight tea party? As for why they don't retreat well, we have seen they aren't exactly rational for now.

"Scorched, boiling and trembling / A blazing fire from the past still smolders / That remorse still within me /I'll burn and retaliate in full": this could be a description of what O!Ciel is feeling in general. His determination coming from everything that happened is still going strong.

Onestly, these are the only thing I can see strictly related to the present and this arc in particular lol. Everything else goes deeper.

Memories of the past

This part will likely make the least sense, because I am still sobbing over the whole past ok.

"Lost in an unacceptable tragedy Even now, still mourn for days gone by, never to come back": We all know the past. The safest bet is that O!Ciel is mourning, but is he? He never had the time to mourn, he moved immediately to revenge and working for the queen. So either this is just to hit us in the feeling, or maybe it's my favourite victim of this analysis: Undertaker. Could it be him? Possibly, but this being O!Ciel breaks my heart more. I am excluing R!Ciel because at the moment of Weston arc his version should not be that complex. And Sebastian is Sebastian.

"Staking my life, spitting blood and vomit /All I want to do is lead a beautiful life / But why can't you hear / Me telling you not to stumble": I feel like this either O!Ciel talking to himself, admitting that he would like to just be happy but still forcing himself to be strong and act to revenge his family. Or, high on copium, the first part is O!Ciel's wishes and the second part is O!CIel using the R!Ciel allucination make himself stronger (I doubt it, but it adds to the sadness).

"Rip apart, drag and reveal / Throw away all inferiorities /Even the raw emotions of cursing someone /Take them in like an offering": I got the epiphany after several times of reading this and yes it's about revenge hatred yadda yadda yadda. But what if, in particular, it's related to the moment when O!Ciel summoned Sebastian? I think it's the only time I remember "offering" being mentioned/relevant in the manga. O!Ciel is throwing everything away for revenge, assuming a new identity. So this could be either O!Ciel talking to himself during that desperate time. Or, just to hurt myself more, him allucinating again a conversation with R!Ciel where R!Ciel is the one that is saying all this. I will go cry now, brb.

"Everything in this world, there isn't much /Difference between the atrocious or noble as you think / Though we have prayed and knelt down / Our prayers have been cremated /And ignored with a "So what?" " : God, this section is killing me. Memories of when the twins were captured, For them and all the other children, it was an atrocious experience, while the nobles were truly thinking they were in the right, that there was nothing wrong in what they were doing. They believed to be noble enough to be above everything and ignored absolutely everything in regards to the children.

Undertarker is not being subtle. Like at all.

Somewhere up in the sky, someone is making selections/To ensure the cycle of birth and passing is upheld: here I am conflicted. Undertaker is sure making selections when he is creating the bizzare dolls "you get to be revived. you don't". But at the same time he is not uphelding anything. He is doing the opposite infact. Unless this is supposed to just describe the Shinigami's role to show how Undertaker is going in the opposite direction.

There's just one, just one/In this world, just one person, one person/Question fanatically and/Live the shit out of this world: we only really see two characters question stuff: O!Ciel with the murder of his family and Undertaker with the Cinematic record ways of working. Now, i don't really see O!Ciel "question fanatically" and "live the shit out of this world", while we can debate about how "fanatically" he is searching for the culprits, how are you telling me he is living his best life? He is surronded by trauma, has to go on a mission for the queen every other day, has to live as his dead twin and in this specific arc he has to act all cutesy and adorable when he hates it. He is far from any best life I am more surprised he didn't become histerical yet honestly. The one that IS living his best life is Undertaker (well... more or less). In the Weston Arc he did say he was enjoying being the headmaster. Plus he could make some more esperiments on Derek&co which, on top of that, were mostly successful! Do you know how much serotonin a succesful experiment gives you? A LOT. TRUST ME.

Bizzare Dolls (BD for short because I am lazy)

Well, ofc they are the protagonist of the animation, they are everywhere in the song too.

"An unfading warmth quivers blue in the depth of my eyes / Stifling impurities leave keloid scars and": Are the BD warm? Idk, but I don't think so? A body is warm when the blood is running because the heart is pumping it. Do BD have a working heart tho? I doubt the original version do, but what about the new and improved versions? Agares could have probably be our best bet but he always wore gloves (even when he was alive) so we don't really know.

Warmth aside, what I am quite confident IS a reference to the BD is the keloid scars. I did a reseach and a keloid scar is a "scar keeps growing and becomes bigger than the original wound. They are developed after a skin injury". The scars we have seen are O!Ciel's scar from when they marked him, or the BD's "surgery" scars?

Ofc it could be just metaphorical about the trauma just keep on growing in O!Ciel. Maybe it's more this one but again, I am take things directly

"Love turning on its head, fiction caught in a tangle/Say bye bye to mundane concepts/See how the compensated formless stand imposingly/Their presence is a sight to behold": cambridge dictionary say that "turn something on its head means to cause something to be the opposite of what it was before". Apparently, there are many things that are the opposite of love, depending on your source: hatred, fear, indifference. I think in this case, since we are talking of the BD, we can use indifference. They aren't moved by real emotions at this moment (Weston arc) and even later, they are probably fake emotions based on fake memories (from the orphanage children but I will not elaborate, other theories have done it better). Fear could also work since well, most people are rightfully terrified of them. Being far away from mundane concepts? I would say they fill this box. And they sure are a sight to behold, nothing against it. What confuses me is the "compensated formless" I don't have any idea of what it could mean

"Just skilled at pretending to be human / Searching for those other than monsters + Like the blue shimmer of / A star of the first magnitude / Far from having enough faith": We are looking at the current arcs here in the first lines. The one skilled at pretending to be human and searching for things is Sebastian (it can't be O!Ciel because he isn't pretending to be human). What he is searching is the headmaster, that we know being Undertaker and it ends up bringing with him, again, the BD. In particular, it specifically mentions R!Ciel. You know what is the name of the biggest star of first magnitude that is currently known? Yeah, you are correct, it's Sirius. And we have known Ciel is Sirius for a while now. As to why the star does not have lot's of faith, do I have to remind you "Dear God, why are you smiling?".

"So kind /A colorless encounter, pupils of glass /Thought they may shatter to pieces,/ You laugh your head off, saying, "you must be kidding"": Listen, I have seen a couple of people mentioning "oh it's a reference to monochrome no kiss". But I don't think that's the case, not completely at least. I think this is a parallel of O!Ciel and Sebastian's meeting to R!Ciel and Undertaker. First because one of the people involved is laughing, and Sebastian smirks but has never really laughed out loud, the one that spends his time laughing is Undertaker. Second is the pupils of glass that can shatter to pieces. I wonder if it means that R!Ciel could be using glass balls for his eyes? When we have seen his not-completed form they look pretty empty and they are made of soft tissue, so maybe Undertaker changed the "real eyes" with glass? Idk. The shattering could also indicate the fragility of the BD that are still far from perfect.

There is no such thing as eternity, so /There is no ending until all turns to ash this made me scream Undertaker's BD because we know he needs a full budy for the creation of his dolls and bringing back to life his loved ones. And we know he can't bring back Vincent because his body was too ruined by the fire. So fire IS the only ending in which a person can just die with no possible interference from a Shinigami with resurrection intent.

Tragedy twins

I had no idea of these lines other than, it just fits the vibes. Until I remembered how much Yana likes to mirror the twins.

There's no love, no love, there's no love there: this one is R!Ciel singing. Undertaker may have started to work on the BD out of grief for his loved ones, but it feels like it turned into an obsession.

There's nothing, there's nothing, there's no truth: let's add some angst because this one was not enough. O!Ciel never gets to discover the truth behind the murder of his family before he dies. Maybe we, as readers, can see it. Maybe from Sebastian's eyes. But yeah, we don't have a guarantee that O!Ciel will ever know anything, he could just die with Sebastian being unable to prevent it (either because it happened due to a Shinigami, or maybe an angel or god knows what).

But of course, we can also swap them! O!Ciel was so confident people wouldn't have liked him coming back alive and so started the whole identity swap, so he could still feel like the love he is receiving now is fake, since it's built on a lie. While R!Ciel's truth could now be either the murder or the family again, or the fact that he isn't "real" now. He is a BD, his action and thoughts are based on memories that are likely not his own. He has become a fake, a lie. "There is no truth" because that is a BD similar to him, and not necessary him.

I am exhausted I haven't thought about something this much since my thesis. Yes some of them are quite the stretch, hopefully I will trigger a smart person and finally we get a good analysis. Meanwhile you have to deal with me. Feel free to add your opinions pls, I love hearing theories.

PSA: I have formatted this half on computer and half of phone so idk how weird the formatting is I will check again tomorrow, now I'm tired of rereading it.

[ohthethingswedoforlove]

Could you possibly do something with yandere Dalv please?

Of course! Ah, Dalv, surely all that time in isolation did not leave an impact on you and your perception of friendship, right?

Warnings: yandere character; stalking; imprisonment;

  For as much as he tries to convince himself that he's better off hiding away in the deepest parts of the Ruins, Dalv is someone who misses companionship dearly.

  It doesn't matter if you're a monster living the upper parts of the Ruins or a human who has fallen down, when you accidently crash your way into the lower levels with no way back up, he's bound to find you.

  This place is his home, and while some other monsters have decided to stick around as well, he still manages to stay the lonely master of this place.

  At first, he avoids you. Any sighting of you has him pulling the hood of his cloak over his head and moving in the opposite direction back into the dark, no matter if you've been trying to follow him around hoping he could help you or if you are still oblivious to his existence.

  Eventually, he sees that you're no real threat. Curiosity pulling at his interest, even as a part of him still keeps telling him that he should just go away and leave you be. He wants to be left alone. Then why does he keep following you around?

  But you start to leave quite the positive impact down here, all the few other residents taking a liking to you, even Decibat only has positive things to say. And your friendliness leaves him hoping that maybe... Maybe his time feeling desolate down here could come to an end?

  When he finally approaches you with a nervousness still clinging to him, he's still beating himself over that this is a bad idea. But when you tell him that you'll be his friend, a warmth he spent so long forgetting comes back to him.

  Is this real? Are you real? It's been so long since he had any sort of connection, specially with someone who came from outside these walls.

  Maybe it would be nice to have some company again.

  Without any help from the outside, you're basically dependent on Dalv's word to be able to leave. But... You don't need to know that yet, right?

  Instead of removing the wooden barricade keeping you from the outside of the Ruins, he apologises and tells he doesn't have a way out through his house, not even letting you see it. It was blocked off long ago... Yeah, it's a shame... Don't worry, though! He'll find another way, he swears! He'll help you. That's what friends are for!

  So please, stay a little longer?

  If you don't question it too much and let him "help", days will start to go by. You get to stay at his house, read through his stories, eventually grow tired of eating only corn or whatever other concoction he manages to make, and explore the Ruins alongside him for any hidden puzzle or fragile wall that could give away to the outside. But you'll never find it.

  He feels bad about it, he really does. But he doesn't want to be left alone again. And the outside... Well, isn't it better to stay here? Isn't it safer?

  So until you decide to confront him, this will continue. He never realised how much he missed having a friend.

[chemdisaster]

in my lonely arc 💔

Chem has seen this happen before. For three previous games, they sat back and Watched as an entirely different set of players fought against the binding rules of the game. Alliances were made and broken, lives were won and lost, and through it all Chem Watched, and remembered, and eventually started to learn.

Knowing how these things tend to go, they quickly figured out that their best bet was to gather as many resources as possible while they still could. And they made good on that resolve, spending the entire week filling their inventory with anything that could potentially be useful, redstone and iron and the enchanter a comforting weight on the back of their mind.

Now though, as the haze of preparation falls off, they find themselves sitting alone in their Pits, the enchanter warm against their side, wondering if maybe in their will to survive they may have missed something that most people would find crucial.

The Pits, for all their beauty, are a quiet place.

No one really comes down here, other than to grab some glow berries. And Chem doesn’t mind, really! Let them have their glow berries. Having killed every pig they’ve come across, Chem finds that glow berries really aren’t of any importance to them. If their fellow players want to eat a fruit that makes them even more hungry, they can (literally) be their guest.

It’s just...the quiet gets overwhelming.

Sitting alone in their cave, watching messages slowly tick by on their comm—something within Chem aches to hear a voice other than the ones in their own head.

It’s not even that it’s anything new. But walking up the mountain, only to immediately turn back when they heard the sounds of people talking—

It’s like something clicked in their brain.

Oh. They have friends.

Chem doesn’t know why they expected anything different. Not everyone is like them. Not everyone sees making human connections as something secondary compared to preparing for the upcoming bloodshed. Not everyone would spend a week mining, hoping that someone would wait for them, only to surface with the realisation that everyone else has moved on.

(Not everyone prioritises surviving over living.)

Ah well. It’s too late now. They missed their chance.

Exhaling heavily, Chem curls up against the stone wall and hugs the enchanter closer to their body, letting its steady warmth chase away the coldness inside.

They may not have friends, but they have resources. And that’s all they need. The enchanter will do more for them in the long run than any fragile alliance ever could. They don’t need friends.

Friends won’t save their life, after all.

However lonely a life it may be.

[magnuslightwoodbane]

(without you) i’d be gone with the wind

vashwood, 1.9k words, wolfwood inner monologue, pre-relationship, second person pov

read on ao3

You have so many names, and you like less than half of them. Wolfwood is the easiest - you wear that one like a coat, to cover up the rest of you, but you don’t mind it, because you chose to wear it. Nicholas was given to you as a child, and the Punisher affixed onto that like a chain around your neck, dragging you down to the level you belong to, only the solid ground of reality and life keeping you from being frozen in ice for all eternity. The ninth circle, betrayers of special relationships, Judas, Brutus, Satan, you.

You’ve been called Executioner, devil, preacher man, attack dog, Father, monster. Nick is fine. You don’t feel like a Nick, really. Nico belonged to Livio, but Vash said it once, in a dazed state of having just woken up, and it surprisingly didn’t feel like your heart was being wrenched out of your chest, so you let him and only him keep using it. You think that the two of them would have really liked each other, so that makes it okay, somehow.

You’re sat on the hood of an abandoned, broken down car with him, cigarette lit, with only sand stretching out for miles, no matter which way you look. Above, though, the Worms shine and shimmer in all their glory, and you try to pretend that they’re stars. Somewhere beyond them, past the actual stars, somewhere way out there, is Earth. You’ve never felt a connection to it, not really - you’ve barely got any human remaining left in you, you think - but the warm body next to you has you thinking. Vash came to Noman’s Land with the rest of the humans, all those years ago, sure, but the humans at least had a tangible origin point, a home to remember, to honour. Plants come from another fucking dimension . You can’t even begin to comprehend that, how it must be for Vash. And yeah, okay, there are other Plants here, swimming around in great big fuck-off vats, being used by humans to survive, but the humans probably don’t even realise they’re sentient (the thought maybe Knives had a point flashes briefly in your mind here, and you shake it off quickly). But the closest thing Vash has ever had to someone who gets him IS Millions fuckin’ Knives, and that’s just depressing.

The guy might have been cutting your cheques for a bit but fuck me, you couldn’t ever imagine holding him and calling him brother. Couldn't imagine still loving him so deeply the way Vash does, even after everything Knives put him through.

Anyway. Back to Vash.

(It always comes back to Vash with you, doesn’t it?)

Not that long ago, you couldn’t even imagine liking Vash as much as you do, so maybe you just needed to spend a little more time with Knives to really get it. But on the other hand, you would prefer to deepthroat a cactus, as chances are good you would be dealing with less of a prick.

Vash shifts his body on the hood of the rusty metal carcass, and crosses his legs next to you. You can feel the warmth of his leg brushing up against you, far too hot for any human flesh to be beneath those layers of fabric. It must be horribly lonely, being Vash. Wandering, trying to help, being met with fear and hatred at every turn. He must have travelled alone for so long.

And now, he travels with you.

You’d fled the last town you were in with him earlier this evening, Vash having of course stumbled his way into another situation, chased out to gunfire and shouting. You don’t even know what pissed them off so badly this time. Meryl and Milly stayed behind with their apparently innocent demeanours and plausible deniability; you work so well as a unit, the four of you, that you don’t even need to agree a plan of action with them when these things happen - you two run, they stay behind, stock up, and catch up. Plus, it gives the two of them some time alone. You don’t yet know if either has made a move yet, but Milly is so perceptive you don’t believe she hasn’t noticed the looks Meryl throws her way when she thinks no one else is looking. Maybe they already have begun something, and are just so very good at being subtle about it.

He shifts again, and you hear the almost imperceptible hiss escape from his teeth. Your head swivels so fast that you feel you would have broken your own neck had you moved any quicker. You watch as Vash reaches his arm up under his shirt, exposing his tummy - abdomen, Wolfwood, don’t be a child - and the scar tissue that patterns his flesh. His long fingers find their target, and pluck something out, before withdrawing. His shirt falls to cover the expanse of skin and you feel a weird sense of loss. You have no idea why this keeps happening.

You have no time to think too hard about it, though, as between Vash’s fingers is a bullet. A spent one. With blood all over it. That he’d just pulled out of his own body.

And Vash? Well, Vash… he laughs. He grins, sheepishly. “Missed that one, huh?”

You feel like you’re going to fucking explode with rage. You tamp it down before it can boil over, because it’s not Vash you’re actually angry at, more the people who shoot at him without care, whose first response to this angel of deliverance is violence.

Okay, you’re a little angry at Vash too. Stupid noble martyr hero complex motherfucker. “What. The. Fuck. Spikey.” You think you kept your voice level, but judging by Vash’s wince, you wouldn’t be surprised if you’d ended up growling it instead.

“Uh. Sorry?” he says. You seize the lapels of his coat and drag him towards you. He yelps in surprise.

“You idiot, are you hurt anywhere else? Why didn’t you say anything?! What the fuck even happened?! Why did you piss them off so badly they shot you? Why do you never do anything to stop- URGH!” You shove him away, not hard, but you need to calm yourself down, so you release him with some of the energy that had just been building up. You look away from him, and spit out the butt of the cigarette onto the sand below, trying to focus on actually breathing.

You’ve run through a couple of the breathing exercises you’d read about in that trashy little book, and just about stabilised your mood, before Vash speaks.

"I know you think I'm naive, sometimes."

He's right. You do. But you're not sure if it's because he actually is, or because you're so twisted and broken in the opposite way. Maybe it’s both.

He continues. "I think you forget how much older than you I am. I'm this way because I choose to be, because I choose to believe in humans and their capacity for love."

You snort. "Even when we're being run out of towns because they're shooting at you all the fucking time?"

"They shoot because they're scared of me. They're scared because of their love for their people. It doesn't matter that they're wrong about the threat being me, really.”

You groan at his self-flagellating goodness. “Well, you’re just a really, fuckin’, good  person then. Ain’t ya? Not like the rest of us.” Not like me, you don’t say. The words come out like shotgun blasts, but you don’t spit them with venom, because it’s not an insult, not to him. He is good personified, everything you’re not, wrapped up in a lanky, idiot-shaped package.

"Wolfwood, you believe in a soul, right? In an afterlife, in punishment for those who've done wrong?"

Where the fuck is this coming from? "It's… complicated," you say, because it is. You don't look at him, instead staring straight up at the sky. You think the eternal damnation is here and now for the whole of humanity, but you'll never say that out loud. It might break his heart, and you couldn't handle that, just like you can't handle thinking about why that troubles you.

"Well if you do, then you would have to be a good person too, Nico,” he says, softly, gently. “Because you would damn your own soul a hundred times over so other people don't have to. So I don't have to."

You feel your heart stop, the blood thundering in your ears. You don’t see it, but you can feel the movement, as he pulls up his legs and wraps his arm around them. He rests his head on his knees, but that fucking gaze of his doesn't shift. It burns into the side of your face; you can feel it, stripping you bare despite how desperately you try to rebuild the eroding walls. He smiles, softly; you hear it in his words.

"Nicholas, the Protector."

That makes you look at him. There’s not a single coherent thought in your mind, no biting remarks, and you can feel your mouth gape open, shaping out formless words, desperate to respond, to deny, to lash out, anything so you don’t have to accept this honour that you could never deserve. He chuckles, fucking chuckles, and he grins in that way he does, all teeth and eyes crinkling, and you want to kiss him so fucking bad-

Wait.

What?

Oh no. No no no no no no no-

Oh yes, says the irritating narrator that takes up residence in your mind every time you have a crisis, of which this is absolutely NOT. You want him, carnally of course, because you’re just awful like that, but worse. You want to be a better person, for him. Because of him. You have FEELINGS for your closest pal, Punisher.

Vash leans in while you freak out in your own mind, and your body fortunately has the capacity not to flinch as he gets closer. He rests his hand against your jaw, and cups it gently, thumb sweeping over your cheek and flesh warm where you didn’t realise you were getting cold. His metal hand comes to rest on your leg, heavy and comforting, just like his presence by your side is whether sleeping or fighting. He leans closer, so much closer, and his lips brush your cheek in a small, slow kiss. You feel your eyes slip closed as his breath ghosts your skin, and a whimper involuntarily let out. You have no idea what to do with such sheer tenderness.

He leans back, slightly, and you can hear the intake of breath before he speaks. Immediately, your mind runs through a thousand and one things he could say next, ranging anywhere from and between Psych! You suck actually to have my babies, Nicholas.

“Let’s go set up camp Nico, I am beat! ” is what he actually says. It’s so Vash. It’s perfect. He’s.. no, don’t go there yet. “Okay, Grandpa.” You regain the ability to speak as you hop down, but it only comes out as a hoarse whisper. Vash, to his credit, doesn’t react to this at all. He wiggles instead, like he’s doing a little dance, as he walks away to the spot you found earlier. “Respect your elders!” he sings, and you follow. You will always follow.

You have so many names, and you’ve just been given one more. This one you like. You hope one day that you can earn it, but for now, it is his.

[livingincolorsagain]

hey babe! my coffee boiled over just so I could send you this so you better answer

🤲what do YOU get out of writing?

☯️how do you think engaging with each other through tumblr, twitter, comments, kudos, creates healthy fandom experiences? How do you deal with that if you're not a social person/experience social anxiety?

💥find your least kudos'd fic - say something wonderful about it.

Oh damn. I’m gonna answer anyway, but damn.

from this list

🤲 for me, writing is a way to express myself, because I’m not really much of a talker. I do often project on my characters, but not so much they’re not themselves anymore. Anytime I find a connection between a character I like and myself, I latch onto it, because chance is it’s not talked about enough in canon, and I like to highlight those little things that make theses little fictional characters more human.

☯️ this is a loaded question. There are many benefits to being a part of something, and having friends who share the same passion and interests. For a long time, I was a writer without any social media, and no friends to talk to, and let me tell you, you don’t realize how lonely it is until you start talking to someone. Also, having friends helps a lot with creatively. I made this blog in late 2020, and I’ve been writing way more since then.

On the flip side, the more you engage with the fandom, the more you’ll see things you’re better off not seeing. Fandoms aren’t always a safe, happy place. Sometimes people like to pretend they exist in a vacuum, like their words and actions hold no weight. They’re so comfortable with being vile and ignorant and hateful and racist, then when they’re called out they’re like, ‘well, there’s no way for me to know better’, which is bullshit and we all know it.

It’s extremely frustrating and tiring, and once you open yourself up to the whole experience, it’s almost impossible to not see this shit, or get affected by all of it.

So, does it create a healthy experience? Not exactly. You have to find the balance and choose the best options for yourself. Blocking is a great option, and I’m not afraid to use it.

💥well, I already put my least kudos’d fic here, so here’s my second least kudos’d fic!

The Chance of You

It’s a bright winter morning, with clear skies and a gentle breeze, the sun a welcome kiss of warmth on Bucky’s cold cheeks, when they meet for the first time.

Personally, I think this is one of my prettiest fics. I absolutely love the atmosphere of it, and how it left a lot of people wanting a sequel.

[koii14]

Agonies in life: A Reflection Paper on the Anthology, “Lockdown Litanies: Countless Untold Stories” an essay by Christine Mae Marquiño

Introduction:

• Different Struggles of a Woman

• How people and society affects someone's feelings

Thesis Statement (Topic):

The Philippines have so many stories that are based in real life, which got the interest of the readers. Authors did not stop creating this kind of story because it helps the readers or audience to understand and realize more the meaning of life. 

Each of us have struggles in life, both men and women however in this anthology women played different roles. Society is a big factor for someone's mental health, as well as our loved ones. 

Body:

As I read the first poem entitled "Dear Diary", I can feel the persona's pain. She is hurt by the people around her, struggles in life, left alone, wanting to disappear but then overcomes all of it. I realized that people will truly come and go as stated in these lines from the poem, "Meeting strangers for warmth and solace, wanting for more. But all was left in me, I ended up alone" we will meet them not for a lifetime but for the meantime only and memories. Reading this poem reminds me the song Stronger by Kelly Clarkson where the tone is kind of hype because the lyrics explores in empowerment and recovering from heart aches that later on became stronger and doesn't feel alone which evident with the lyric, "What doesn't kill you makes you stronger

Stand a little taller Doesn't mean I'm lonely when I'm alone".

In the next poem which is "The Tale of a Modern Sisyphus", the persona is a strong woman. It taught me that problems can be easier for us if we are together with someone as it is evident with the following lines from the poem, "To the human condition, we are not inherently alone. A burden is less felt when carried together" that in life, we are not alone. Problems could be the reason for us to become stronger. It reminds me Rachel Platten's Fight Song where the tone is so encouraging that will lift up the listeners with its lyric like, "My power's turned on

Starting right now I'll be strong"

"O’ Yayi (A Prose Poem)", the third poem. Proves to me that first love will last forever. However, it hurts when the love of your life keeps on thinking and talking about their past love, even if you did everything you can. We can read in the poem these lines,  "She received all the comfort and luxury a woman could ever get from a loving husband" "That spark in her eyes after saying his name" where we can feel the pain of the persona longing for his wife. This reminds me the song Remember Me an OST of a movie entitled Coco sang by Miguel where the tone is sad and longing for their loved ones but making sure that through this song they'll remember them as manifested with these lyrics, "I hold you in my heart" "Know that I'm with you" . 

In the fourth poem, "Two Red Laces On Wonderland" I have understood that if we fall in love with someone, no man can get our heart anymore. Love indeed is a strong feeling that we cannot control, also we can feel happiness whenever we are with him/her as it stated in these lines from the poem "All because of you, my Wonderwall. Heaven by your side, I’ve tasted wine" "And tried my luck with several men,

But you felt like home, where I belong" being with the love of our life is one of the best times in our life therefore it could also be the worst or painful day of our life. I remember the song Because of You by Kelly Clarkson, when we listen to this song we can feel the pain and sadness that is caused by the love of her life as manifested with these lyrics "Because of you I learned to play on the safe side, so I don't get hurt".

Upon reading the fifth poem, entitled " Umbilical" I have known that giving birth is not easy. From the title itself we can see that it is connected to a baby. In spite of the pain, the mother managed to deliver the child. Love that comes from a mother is really genuine, they will do everything just to take care of their child as evident in these lines from the poem, "The pain she suffered just for me to see:" "You have made your purpose, I guarantee. Hush, sleep tight. Everything will be alright." This reminds me Sad Song by We the Kings, which tone is sad and the lyrics is painful that we cannot live without our loved one or a mother rather as it manifested in the lyric, "Without you, I feel broke Like I'm half of a whole Without you, I've got no hand to hold".

Sixth poem entitled "RE: Paper (I’m Red, IMRaD)*", shows how hard the education is in different aspects. I realized that having the responsibility is not as easy as we think, especially if it is connected to someone. And sometimes we are limited to do things as evident in these lines from the poem, " If we keep on insisting quality education for students Why not allow teachers access quality to their extent?  Help teachers help students. After all, we cannot give what we don’t have" even if you know what's the best to do if it is not approved by those who are in position you can do nothing.  This reminds me of the song Sign of the Times by Harry Styles. Which sounds like a contemporary mashup where we can feel the pain of every lyric. And we'll know that this isn’t the first time we’ve been in a hard time, and it’s not going to be the last time as manifested with the lyric  "We never learn, we been here before"

"3 A.M. Awakening" is a seventh poem. I realized that depression and anxiety normally hit us at 3 in the morning which caused us to suffer alone. The persona in the poem is experiencing this also but I think that most of the time, we're thinking about what people did to us as it shows in these lines from the poem"People hold truth in fiery tongues and spit Eternal billows for us found in splits." that sometimes leads us not to lean on our friends' shoulders and just keep our problems to ourselves. As I read the poem I remember the song See You Again by Charlie Puth with a soft rhythm and message that there might have a problem between a friendship but at the end they'll still help each other as evident in the lyric, "It's been a long day without you, my friend

And I'll tell you all about it when I see you again"

In the eighth poem entitled "My Frail Lady", I understood that the persona was dreaming about herself struggling. However it was a realization through her dreams that led her to come up with this thinking as it states in these lines from the poem, "Freedom at long last Upon her long, quiet pause." that I think this helped her to find freedom for herself. It reminds me of the song by Maximillian, Beautiful Scars. The tone can give courage as well as the lyrics that even if we struggle in something we should learn to embrace it as well as our weakness, so that it is not that heavy for us anymore as manifested with this lyric, "Cause it's a part of you that will make you strong Embrace your flaws".

As I read the last poem entitled, " Major Arcana" I understand sometimes we put our hope on what other people saw, hence it lifts us up. However we have the idea on what's the best thing to do even if we are wondering, we know that our life is not tragic as evident in these lines from the poem "And so you went in wonder and surprise For you have seen what lies ahead," . I remember the song Scars To Your Beautiful by Alessia Cara. The lyrics can indeed be an encouragement to the listeners with its good rhythm. And as we listen to this song we will understand that there is a hope even if we are at our lowest as shown in this lyric "But there's a hope that's waiting for you in the dark".

Conclusion: 

Reading these stories caused me to experience a range of emotions, including pain and the realization of many life lessons. It's not always simple being a woman; we frequently handle all of our issues on our own. Making the decision to keep things to ourselves and ultimately breaking down. We experience suffering in many different ways, sometimes from other people and other times from within. We have to confront a new challenge every day, but we also have hope that we will eventually overcome our difficulties. We ladies have demonstrated our strength. Despite our faults, failures, and trials, we are still here, enjoying the life we have. Growing and learning new things.

[babemagnetfr420]

This past week it really hit hard me that all the moments I have felt warmest and the most alive are the ones when I'm giving or experiencing kindness. I knew this objectively but I think I am starting to actually understand it now. It is starting to become a part of me.

I came out as transmasc and all my guy friends started referring to me as "one of the boys." One friend taught me how to tie. My trans brother came into my room every morning to help me make sure my pants were sitting manly on my hips.

On Monday night one of my friends invited himself to go with me to the graveyard I was heading to to play my banjo because he knew I was scared of the dark and then he tricked me into letting him pay for gas because he knows that's hard for me right now.

On Tuesday I went to the gas station where I'm friends with all the employees and we exchanged poets to check out as is our tradition and I gave one of them a CD I thought they'd like to hear. Later I went out with one of my best friends to thrift and she made me feel handsome as I was finding boyclothes and made sure I was comfortable while trying everything on.

On Wednesday I brought my sick friend soup and bread and a poetry book to read and then we got to giggle about it.

On Thursday another of my best friends and I went to the woods because I needed to put my hands in the dirt and we really really listened to each other and I got to carry that warmth around in my chest for hours. Later I had a panic attack after play practice and I couldn't go home because I'd told my parents it ended later cause I had planned to go sneak and buy boyclothes. I called one of my theatre friends I'd felt peaceful talking to earlier in an attempt to ground myself and he talked me through it for thirty minutes and then invited me to his house where hed made me a plate of fruits and vegetables because he knew I might be hungry and that I don't like meat.

Friday I got to take care of and comfort my friend who is feeling hopeless and lonely as of late and then later I was hiding out in the stairwell at the school late at night after play practice playing my banjo and singing in an intense wailing way in order to get out all of the tough emotions I was dealing with and my journalism teacher was there for some reason and heard me playing and listened to me and then made sure I was ok and comforted.

Yesterday I got to use the Spanish I've been practicing extra hard this week to share my hot goss with my Spanish speaking friend at work and be able to listen and support him when he told me about what he's been struggling with this week.

There is not a day that goes by lately where I don't have am intensely human moment to hold on to. And all these moments! Feel so infinite and warm! Feel still and wholly good, like I wasn't wanting for anything else. The more I open myself to receiving kindness, the more I am able to give it, and the more human I feel. There's a Desmond Tutu quote that I really love. He says "When you do reach out and help someone, or someone is kind to you, you feel good. Why is that? Because you start to see that we are made for compassion."

I think every moment like this is proof of that- that the base state of humanity is kindness. That we are wired to be good and seek connection and give kindness. I'm at a weird place in my life where I'm not sure exactly what I want to do with my future or how I will live a life I'm happy with, but I'm also starting to understand that I will never lose my joy as long as I keep turning back towards the gentleness and goodness in others. And it is everywhere. And I am warm beyond words.

[xsadcorebenji]

“hey i just met you

and this is crazy

but people haven’t been kind to me for awhile

and i want to be friends with you

and i know you’re not available

and i know i’ll probably have romantic feelings

please accept

i don’t ever think you’ll think of me that way

i more or less care if we stay friends

there’s warmth in you i haven’t felt in a long time

i went to the forest last week and whispered secrets into tres

and i didn’t even want to mention it

because i wanted all my wishes to come true

during Sunday i went to get this italian ice custard combo i miss from summertimes from childhood

a dandelion puff brushed my window and i was wondering if it’s a child’s wish

and i hope it comes true

i just need more good things to come to everyone

sorry for rambling

i just

haven’t met

anyone remotely curious

in another human being in a long time

is it addiction then?

i am talking to you in my thoughts alone

i lost

someone terribly important to me

it really has been lonely when everything goes quiet

i like you

because you seem to appreciate physical books

i’m tired of audiobooks and people claiming they have ‘read’ them

i like you

you seem to really like books

the books have been

the only way i’ve been managing

i like you

do you

at least think i’m cool

and would you get

so disastrously stressed if i carried a romantic blip of a thought

just full acceptance

either way

i see myself

restarting in a small town elsewhere entirely

and

maybe again

a small glimmer connection

c’est ca c’est tout”

[hollyhomburg]

Before I Leave You (Pt.4)

(Omegaverse au, Mafia au, Bts x Reader)

Summary: Yoongi makes his choice, so does Moonbyul.

Pairing: Beta! Yoongi, Omega! Reader, Omega! Jungkook, Omega! Seokjin, Alpha! Namjoon, Alpha! Hoseok, Alpha! Taehyung, Alpha! Jimin,

Tags: Graphic material, Death, Murder, Dead bodies and dying described in detail, brief suicide attempt, suicidal thoughts, depression, DARK THEMES, guilt, blood, a touch of blood kink? drugs, murder/crime themes, guilt, kinda fuck or die vibes? finally fluff at the end, mating marks, 

W/c: 7.1k

A/n: here is the moment you’ve all been waiting for! the big d word moment!!! my carpal tunnel is acting up, I will probably not be able to get the next chapter out for a few days or until next week. Chronologically the next chapter continues after part 1. 

(PLEASE READ TAGS FOR CW BEFORE YOU PROCEED)

Previous part — Masterlist

Part 4: If I Have You 

Pulling the trigger is the easiest thing you’ve ever done. 

Geumjae’s body flinches back from the force of the bullet. The ceiling splattering with the spray of his blood. It hits the side of your face too, your white shirt crested with red at the shoulders, dripping down your throat along with the blood from your mating bite. It’s a percussive splatter, noisy as it hits the wall.

People never talk about how blood gets everywhere during a murder. Yoongi is unable to stop his flinch when Geumjae’s brain matter and viscera splatter against him, just a little. 

Yoongi didn't think you'd actually do it. 

He watches you shove the body away from you, hard, what's left of his head, an empty vessel, hitting the floor with a hollow thud. His hands leave you for the last time, but the pain isn't finished. 

Yoongi barely has the forethought to lunge forward, knees scraping, wrestling the gun out of your hand before you can turn it on yourself. The barrel of the gun is hot when Yoongi's hands close around it and yank it away from your own temple. The smell of burning skin joins the metallic scent of murder. Your scent is a mess- it’s barely had a chance to mix with Geumjae’s burning wood-burning bread and wrath, rainstorms, and gunpowder. 

He shouts your name but you don't respond. 

Yoongi yanks the gun from your hands, probably hurting your fingers but panicked when he hurls the gun to the other side of the room and takes your hands in his, wrestling with you and screaming your name until the fight goes out of you. 

You’re hyperventilating when you stop struggling. Both of your wrists pinned above your head in both of Yoongi’s hands, his knees pressing your legs to stillness in a way that could be sexual but isn't- it's the easiest way for him to restrain you- both sprawled on the bloody floor. Yoongi’s crying, tears dripping down his nose, every other drop shines pink from what's on his face.  

“Yoongi please- please just let me go- I don’t want to become a ghost- I don't wanna become a walking corpse.” The way you look breaks his heart, your neck so bruised and bloody, your face swelling too from Geumjae’s hits. The way your eyes hold only darkness and no warmth as you look at him and beg- beg him to let you take your life. Your pupils are so small he can't see them at all. 

“Let me die Yoongi- please just- if you do one thing for me- let do this. let me go."

Yoongi looks at your mating mark and can already see the thin tracery of ink spreading under your skin- inky blackness spreading from your mating bite and up your throat. A piece of someone who’s dead inside of you, shot through with silver to make it stand out more. 

It’s like some silly zombie bite in a bad horror movie but it’s so much more haunting, The veins in your eyes are even starting to discolor. You have maybe a few minutes before the mating bite takes you over completely and you’re mated to someone dead.

Zombie movies were nothing more than fear of this taking root in common culture, everyone fears losing their mate. What else is more terrifying than something that takes your humanity in the way that this has taken yours. This is every person’s worst nightmare- a death sentence.  

‘Ghosts’ are what society has dubbed the women and men who live after losing their partners. Most of the time they live without alpha or a pack- unable to bond to anyone else ever again once their mates are dead. Mating bites are a one-time thing. 

When one-half of a mated pair dies- a person's body has a peculiar way of letting outsiders know how to treat them gently- The mating mark turns black like a brand. A mark to let everyone know that they would never have another person to take care of them- to love them.

But you aren’t alone- you’re not alone because you have Yoongi and he’s right here with his wide palms on you. Hands that where always made to fix things, but you aren’t just some broken toy that needs a bit of glue.  He’s too late, just seconds too late and only inches away. 

He grips both of your forearms in either of his palms hands, pulling you closer. Making you sit up, dragging you into his lap like carrying your weight in his arms will fix this. Anything to hold onto you- to not lose you too soon. 

"Stop- just stop, I've got you- I've got you," Yoongi repeats it more for himself than he does for you.

But there are wounds in your body that can’t be fixed by simple hoping. There is a limit to what one person can take. Despair is one hell of a drug and while Yoongi fights and fights there is no undoing what Geumjae has done to you.

But maybe…

Yoongi dares to hope; “It’s only a half bond if we-“ he falls silent as the idea settles over him like a bucket of cold water. His brain rushing over everything he’s ever learned about mating bites and beta’s; all of the statistics and articles that Namjoon had shoved down his throat when Jungkook had first stopped having seizures. 

The medical mystery that betas were; how they were able to heal unseen hurts and maybe- maybe this was like that. Maybe the solution to this problem lays in Yoongi’s veins, in his mouth. 

His jaw aches at the very suggestion of it.  “I’m a beta- and betas don’t usually mark- because- because they’re stronger than alpha and omega bites.” 

It’s the only truth that makes sense. All of the stories of omegas and alphas going crazy after being bitten by betas, not being able to move from them too far, extreme clinginess- a bond that was too close, too strong, stronger than anything else in their life. You weren’t supposed to bond with someone so deep, the bite almost seemed to do more harm than good. 

But you’re already dying and there isn’t much worse that could happen to you.

You don't have anything to lose but Yoongi does. You shake yourself free from his arms and pull back. Recoiling from what he’s offering to do for you; tether him to you forever when you might not make it. 

You can already feel the mating mark taking hold- It's already starting to cloud your judgment, deep down, the part of you that cares if you survive this is already winking out. The blankness sinking through your every inch, The emptiness. You’d be surprised if you lifted your hand to your chest and found your heart still beating. 

“Yoongi- No- you don’t have to- you’ve already got a pack and don’t- don’t bind yourself to someone like me.”

It’s the same argument that you had before but there’s no force behind it- every stupid excuse you had for him not to love you is moot now that your husband is dead next to you. But you're done; Every breath takes more effort than it should and you feel so heavy. You look down at your lap and feel the lethargy sinking beneath your bones like lead. Hidden hands gripping around your throat cutting off your words.

You feel like you’re choking on something. 

You’ve felt depressed before (how could you not have given what your life was like before Yoongi). And having a mating mark from someone deceased feels like that but worse, like it's turned up by a factor of three. A weird mixture of dizzy, absent, and dissociative. You have never felt less connected to your own body, it feels foreign.

You are nothing but a soul inside a body, craving release. A thread of black that wants to tug you down to where ever Geumjae is now. 

The sinking sadness says to you with gentle hands- this is a fine spot. You can just sit here, It’s okay. You don’t have to move, you can just sit here until you die. As long as no one bothers you and hurts you again, you could just sit here, as long as it was quiet and peaceful. Things don't even have to be good, you don't need good things, you just need it to not hurt anymore. Until the earth reclaims you like it takes abandoned buildings. 

 A sharp pain that goes through your heart, an ache so deep that it speaks to cavernous places, wakes monsters that you didn’t know where there. 

You’ve never really wanted to die before, maybe as a passing thought- but didn’t everyone think that way? it’s so different now- where the thoughts are all consuming, running over your words in your head like oil spreading and staining cloth. 

Die- want to die- want- want- want die- wanna go- wanna be quiet- wanna fall asleep and not wake up- want to- 

But if you decided to lay here and not get up again, Yoongi would stay too.

He would try and get you to move, probably beg and try to get you to live. Even if he never bit you, he’d stay next to you until the end, just to hold your hand so that you didn’t have to be completely alone. You thought dying would feel more lonely,  But maybe it doesn't feel that way because Yoongi’s here. 

His hand closes around yours, his thumb rubbing soothing circles as he cries. And you think if you want one thing; it's for him to stop crying. Out of all people- Yoongi doesn't deserve the hurt (but maybe you're biased because you love him).

That tips the scale in his favor.

Geumjae’s blood is pooling on the floor. His body gives a twitch, the last remnants of his misfiring nerves as he dies. You feel the painful jerk in your mating bond. Yoongi watches the muscles of your neck twitch. 

Neither you nor Yoongi pays him any mind. 

"You don't have to do this Yoongi." Yoongi’s hand on your cheek- is like a balm to those words, pushing them out of your head. “You can’t take it back. If I die- you could die too.”

“But I want to” he kisses your cheek- and the contact lights a flame down your neck to your touch starved heart. The heat flares to light and the next second your body and your mouth are aching to bite. Your instincts an avalanche around you begging you to complete the bond that’s tearing through you making you shake. He kisses a little closer to your lips, cheeks wet and cool against your skin.

Geumaje and Yoongi were related by blood at all, maybe your instincts can’t tell the difference. 

“I don’t care if it does- I can’t- I’m not going to just let you die” his voice breaks on the last word. Not when it was me who was too slow to save you; He won’t say the words or whisper his guilt into the open air. 

“Please sweetheart- let me.” He kisses your lips. So soft- achingly soft, Your first kiss, you wish it had happened under better circumstances.

You hate that the first kiss you and Yoongi share tastes like blood.

But there would be more- there could be more kisses if Yoongi manages to do what he’s saying he can. The mark on your shoulder is already healing, the blackness stretching to scar treacherously fast. Normal mating bites usually take a day or so to heal, but not yours, it’s already scabbing and sealing in the poision.

If you’re going to try this- if it’s going to work- it has to be now. The bond is advancing, regardless of the fact that Geumjae is barely dead, barely cooling beside the two of you.

It’s barely been 10 minutes since you shot him. And if you listen carefully- you can hear sounds in the rest of the house, maybe someone else from the gang here- about to come upstairs and discover the mess of you three. muffled voices and heavy footsteps grow louder by the second. 

Yoongi is safe but you’re not. “Yoongi,” you say, his name a broken hymn on your mouth. Musical- and Yoongi can’t think of a time when he wouldn’t want to hear it. Hoping for more of this closeness and maybe one day, a love that doesn’t hurt.

You get the feeling that even if you are broken beyond repair, this man could fix you. Wide hands and careful fingers that rub the blood away from your skin, hands made for making things and mending things when they break. And maybe you’re selfish enough to let him bind himself to you- broken as you are.

You press your forehead to his, you have to ask one more time. "Are you sure Yoongi?"

He nods, quick and small, "I'm sure." there isn’t anything in his eyes that makes you doubt him.

"Okay," you say softly, tugging him closer, tilting your chin up to the sky, your skin stings where it stretches around the mating mark. "okay. Come here then."

Your hands tangle in Yoongi’s hair as you guide his mouth to your throat, and his mouth sliding into the space where Geumjae was just minutes ago. He lingers for just half a breath before sinks his teeth over the mating mark, a little deeper- his mouth a little wider. He makes the bite a tiny bit offset.

Your breath hitches, back arching. His hands-on your waist go hard, holding you closer to him, as close as he can get you. Unlike before when Geumjae’s bite was agony, this feels like heroin- like every drug mixing together sending you up and up.

If you looked down and saw your hands were tipped in gold you wouldn’t be surprised. For a second you think you can taste colors, and then the chocolate sea salt of Yoongi settles over your tongue delicious, like ambrosia- fuck it’s so strong, it’s halfway between a headache and a high. You gasp when you feel it, feel Yoongi all over, Goosebumps rising on your arms as he touches you. The smell of ocean breeze and chocolate filling you in a way that Geumjae’s scent didn’t.

Geumjae’s bite was nothing compared to this, a whisper to a symphony. 

This must be what a mating bite feels like when you want it. You cry out. Gripping the lapels of his coat. Yoongi’s heartbeat thunders in your ears, the only thing you can hear, until the beat matches to your own, heartbeats pumping in sync.

Your blood tastes sweet and he wonders what it says about him that he likes the taste. He gulps at it- once- twice- and then a third time just to make sure the mark sticks, maybe he could suck a little bit of Geumjae out of you.

His kisses get feverish, lapping up your blood with wide laves of his tongue, moaning a little. and this time when you kiss- with your blood in his mouth, they get hurried and rushed like he can consume you, each one sweeter than the last. There is one moment of nausea, only one moment where Yoongi sees the black tracery receded and feels it dim. 

Maybe it’s not gone, but at least it's buried.

Yoongi can almost feel you, can almost feel the bond, but not yet. Your scent, it's all cake-sweet now. You kiss him until your jaw aches until your lips feel bruised. Until you know the sounds below actually are people, rushing around trying to find Geumjae. Calling out your names. 

Yoongi is the first to break apart, the room spinning. “Do me” he lifts the edge of his shirt, picking out a spot that he likes, the meat just above his hip. A spot is half-hidden by his shirt and his pants.

Not everyone likes to have their mating marks on their neck (you certainly would have chosen to have yours another place had you been given the chance). And Yoongi stretches out so that you can get your mouth on him, your mouth on the spot he wants to bind your soul to his.

He holds one of your hands in both of his hands so gently as you cup his hip and bite down, even as you begin to make out the noise of gang members coming up the attic stairs. Yoongi bites down a moan, lets you take one gasp of blood into your mouth before your teeth leave his skin.

The high rushes over him and he knows his pupils are mirrors of yours, black and dilated. He just has time to wipe his blood from your mouth and get you as close as he can, before the attic door creaks, the barrel of a gun pushing it open. And the gangsters enter the room with practiced steps.

Yoongi pulls his shirt back down just before they have a chance to see.

You play the part, slumping against him and letting him take the reigns. the people must take it for pain even though you’re shaking not with sobs, but from the feeling of Yoongi’s soul intertwining with yours. Full body shivers and something solidifying between the two of you. 

Together you shake, Yoongi is barely aware of the gangsters clearing the room. 

You feel like you can taste his thoughts, though you can’t actually hear what he's thinking. You can feel the way they tumble like small waves over each other. You feel concern and something else, something that feels an offal lot like love shoot down the fledgling bond as Yoongi’s arms pull you up, firmer against him.

It makes shivers rise on every inch of your skin, the pleasure he feels when he touches you that you're now hyper-aware of. It's what your body has been craving- the completion of the bond.

You both bleed- your blood dripping onto the floor. One part sacrament and sacred love and another part poisonous longing for a man you hated so much more than you ever loved him. This feels strange, it feels wrong, and that you have one part of you reaching out for something that’s not there. And then this- with Yoongi, right and front of you and inside of you. Completely occupying your heart and your mind and your body.

Accept for that one poisoned inch; you might not be completely his, but it's enough now, the bond with yoongi occupying those thoughts you'd had minutes before.

The gangsters don’t touch Geumjae, at least until Moonbyul enters the room, unarmed. Yoongi’s cousin eyes Yoongi from the door. There isn’t enough room in this torture room for the 12 or so gangsters and the three of you, they press against the walls, guns at the ready.

Moonbyul approaches Geumjae’s corpse, turning him over with her foot to see his blankly staring face, turning it towards the heavens instead of hell. For a moment, Yoongi thinks she might actually kick him. She plucks her pink handgun from the floor. Someone passes her a rag and she wipes it free of blood and fingerprints.

Her eyes on Yoongi are hard; a bit of mirth playing on the edge of her mouth as she plays her hand. A queen in a room full of pawns and knights, and the king underfoot. Her hand of aces. 

Betting it all on a simple game of roulette- red or black- will Yoongi challenge her or not. Yoongi doesn't miss the way her finger hovers on the trigger. 

“I suppose this entire situation would be concerning to me- if you hadn’t already named me as Don.” she nudges Geumjae's body again with her foot. "I guess he didn't take it well?"

She lies effortlessly, taking the moment to seize power. So this was what she was waiting for. Yoongi doesn’t challenge her words for fear of what she might do right now, not that he really would anyway. 

Yoongi tips his head forward in difference, “No he didn’t,” 

Moonbyul tucks her gun back into her waistband, and holds out her hand to pull yoongi to his feet. 

Yoongi takes you with him, small and still a little high in his arms. You hide your face in Yoongi’s shoulder, Holding onto him tight. You don’t know if you could take it if they tried to separate you now. 

Yoongi has to swallow to continue, struggling to think before he speaks with so many new sensations shocking his body. He's intimately aware of the way you shift in his arms, arms tightening around you at the very idea of you moving more than an inch away from him right now as you settle onto your own two feet. still a little unsteady. 

“He- he mated her against her will, and then he tried to kill us when I told him I wouldn’t- and- and after-” It’s not a lie- not really, but it still feels that way. Moonbyul doesn't need to do anything more than that to nod to call her men off, and they all relax around the room. 

They instantly fade from engaged concern to understanding. The other heads of household will probably grill Yoongi more. But you’ve both got time to get your story straight. For now, they need to clean up the body.

It helps that threatening the beta is a punishable offense; no one will question Yoongi killing him- especially since they’re brothers. Most of the families tend to think that inner house spats that family's business. Yoongi doesn’t know which of his relatives will inherit the title of head of the Min family, but it won't be Yoongi.

You’re small and silent in Yoongi’s arms, so vulnerable, he keeps you a few paces away from any of the mobsters, bites down a growl whenever any of them come too close to his mate. It’s just the mating bond making it’s self-known. You are his. No one can touch you.

Yoongi has never been a possessive man, but now he is. The mating mark tearing through him and screaming at him to protect, to provide, to nurture, and keep safe. He strokes down your back as his cousin quietly orders the others to clean up the mess and Geumjae’s body. The family has cleanup crews on call for this very reason.

They quietly offer to burn the house down to stage the death but Yoongi doesn’t care. He guesses it belongs to him now or maybe you. It depends on which bond the family will consider more important; the bonds of a half mating or the bond of brotherhood.

“I’ll handle it-“ his cousin has the good grace to offer comfort to Yoongi that way when he gets you into her car. she doesn't say anything about the dents in the side.  

Yoongi doesn’t quite hate her for any of this, but he doesn’t trust her the same way he did before either. She’s gotten what she wanted- the Don position. Plucked it from Yoongi’s hands.

“You haven’t had a chance to call the heads of house and tell them about your decision yet, but after that, you should be free to go” she reads him easily as always, The only other manipulator up to par with Yoongi himself in the gang. She knows that not an inch of Yoongi wants to stay in this house or this city a second longer.

At the idea of leaving you to straighten up in Yoongi’s lap to listen in a little more, you share a look with Yoongi. Your mate, your body sings the eye contact makes you shiver in your seat. Yoongi pulls you closer, stroking up to your arm mistakenly thinking you’re cold. You pull yourself closer to him- but it feels like you can’t get close enough, He makes a dissatisfied noise in his throat.

Yoongi will have to get used to this feeling. Like his soul is walking outside of his body. It feels incredibly vulnerable and intimate- He can feel your panic, how physically you’re being torn apart right now, every few minutes you shake. Yoongi puts your legs over his and holds you close. Watching your face closely for every twinge of pain as the lights of the city flicker over you two.

The meeting with the heads of house is tense, though the usual group of is two short now, standing only at eleven members now that Geumjae is gone and Moonbyul is named Don. You cannot be Don and a head of house at the same time.

It takes every bone in Yoongi’s body to let you be taken into the other room by Moonbyul’s mate to check over your injuries. He stops her with a hand on her shoulder. He catches Moonbyul’s nostrils flare, but she doesn’t say anything. “Would you look at her bruises for me?”

Later Yoongi will check them himself, again and again until he's sure you're all right. But the sooner you get ice on the nastier bruises the better off you’ll be. Someone should look at your ribs and your head too- he has half a mind to take you to the hospital before you leave the city. He doesn’t know how long it will be before you’re stationary again. He’d stay in the city tonight if you needed to. But he can feel your panic down the bond, The sooner you both get out of here the better.

With Geumjae dead there is no true opposition against his cousin's rule. She stands at the head of the table like she’s meant to be there. And still- the heads of the families talk through the night, kicking the non-proverbial dead horse into the ground. There is little mourning for Geumjae, one granny who cries faintly in the other room while the heads argue. Yoongi supposes he should look more upset, but no one pays attention to him now that he’s made his choice.

No, what they spend most of the time discuss is you. Sat in the other room, able to hear all of this, the men and woman weighing your fate and deciding what to do with you. If Yoongi listens, he can hear Hyejin’s quiet voice. Can feel your discomfort as the ice hits your ribs, maybe broken, definitely badly bruised.

Yoongi flinches every time he feels the pain pulse down the bond. Maybe in time, it will feel less sensitive but right now- Yoongi can feel your hurts just as bad as he can feel his own. A part of him is reaching out into the other room, screaming in his ear to go comfort his mate.  

He has a mate. Yoongi can scarcely believe it.

The gangsters around the table remain blissfully unaware of that fact. Most of the heads are on the same page, and he won’t reveal his mating mark unless he absolutely needs to, he will let that secret stay secret unless necessary. It’s a good bargaining chip. They wouldn’t kill you if they knew it was going to kill him too. But still- it’s hard to hear them argue over your fate when he can’t intervene.

“You know the rules- no divorces and no separations,” one alpha says, he’s older- nearing 60, but Yoongi can’t excuse that cruelty with age. The youngest, the head of the Ahn house does the rebutting for Yoongi, and he bites his tongue.

“But it wouldn’t be a divorce; she’s his widow now and his ex-mate technically.”

“Yes but that’s only a half bond.” There is only one omega head, and the woman snubs her long cigarette out on the table leaving an ashy circle 

“It’s only the alpha bite that matters- or have you forgotten?”

To her credit, the omega doesn't back down. “Chances are she’ll die anyway why are we even talking about her, we should start transitioning already.”

“That’s easy to say- if she’s got nothing left to lose what’s to stop her from going to the police.”

“I can keep an eye on her,” Yoongi volunteers, jumping at the chance to turn the discussion to his favor. They can all go fuck themselves if they ever dare to try and hurt you. “You say she’s as good as dead anyway. So you shouldn't mind if she comes with me.” 

The likelihood of anyone living after their mate dies is in the teens. Yoongi knew that and even then he bonded to you anyway. He can only hope that with his bite coursing through your veins and your body confused that you’ve got better odds than that. Yoongi did what he promised to do, now your odds are both 50/50. “I’ll make sure she doesn’t go to the police.”

Through the bond he can feel your curiosity and a little bit of fear too, you’re listening in. And he does his best to let his calmness comfort you too. Your panic instantly relaxes and he senses you reaching out. If you were next to Yoongi you’d be holding hands, and it kind of feels that way. If you could ever hold hands with someone’s soul.

“You realize that if you make her your responsibility, anything bad that happens will fall on your head as well” their betas might be sacred- but they aren’t free from the rest of the laws of the gang.

“I understand.” The Don lifts her head, regarding Yoongi with a heavy look. “She’s his widow and whether we want to address it now or not, the law says she’s inherited his wealth.”

It's met with immediate opposition, several heads of house start speaking over each other at once,  but Yoongi speaks up again, shouting over them. A beta raising their voice is about as strange as one giving or getting a mating bite, everyone falls silent. “Give it to me or her- I don’t care.”

another few minutes and they’re ready to let you go. they vote on it, and only 3 out of 11 heads vote to have you killed. Moonbyul gives the all clear, “Then you’re free to go.” Yoongi doesn’t even say goodbye, going to you in the other room just as quickly as he can without outright running. The Don’s mate is crouched in front of where you sit. Your body is mostly clean of blood and you’ve been put in other clothes; a pair of sweats and a baggy shirt.

Yoongi can see all the bruises on the side of your face turning purple and Yoongi wants to cup your face and bring it to his, kiss away the pain coloring your skin like watercolors, but can’t do it here. “Do we need to go to the hospital?” 

“Not for her but maybe for you, no ones checked you over yet, have they?”

yoongi grits his teeth, seconds away from snapping at hyejin, he wants her to get away, get as far from you as possible. “i asked if she needed the hospital.” 

Hyejin stands when Yoongi crouches. shaking her head when it becomes clear yoongi isn’t to be argued with right now. “There’s something wrong with her- but I think you know what” her eyes hover on Yoongi’s hip.

 So at least she’s figured it out. She has the good sense to utter the words quietly. Though the people in the other room aren’t concerned with Yoongi anymore, they’ve already launched into discussions about transitioning power and re-defining responsibilities. It seems Moonbyul had a plan on how she wanted the family to run from the beginning.  

He shakes off his annoyance, “Thank you,” he says to the omega, holding out a hand to you, which you take, still not saying anything. Tiredness holding you down to the chair. The same kind of look you’d had when Geumjae had died. The mating mark has been taped over but some of the blackness is still there. Yoongi wonders when it will fade, if it ever does.

“I wish I could say I’ll see you soon but I don’t think I will.” You and Yoongi nod, your hands twined between the two of you. She knows that neither you nor Yoongi has a love for the gang. No one stops you and Yoongi when you leave the house. Immediately hailing a taxi. You stop only at Yoongi’s safe house for a spare 20 minutes, while he packs up a fraction of his belongings in a hurried rush, anything to get out before someone tries to change their mind.

If Geumjae had any hidden loyalists the beta that killed him and his runaway wife would be the first targets. Let alone their reaction if they knew who had really killed Geumjae. The quicker the two of you get away from the city the better.

You end up at the train station, Yoongi breaks the bracelets off of your wrist- the same ones that he saw you wear on you the first night- and the ones that he’s always thought looked like shackles. He yanks at them as hard as he can until they snap; kissing your wrist after each one is off. You throw them over the side of the chain-link fence and into the darkness- to be lost forever you hope. The symbols of all you’ve lost.

When you get on the train, you cuddle close under Yoongi’s jacket and into his warmth. He’s a protective barrier between you and the third seat that thankfully remains empty this late into the night it’s so late it’s nearly early morning. Most of the train is empty besides an elderly couple at the front. Regardless, the two of you sit behind them. Yoongi can’t take his eyes off of the potential threat. Actually flinches when the conductor comes around to stamp your tickets.

You head off into the night- your little box of light in a sea of street lamps and hidden dangers. You almost fall asleep a few times, head bobbing as you catching yourself before it hits his shoulder. After the third time this happens he pulls you in close, tucks your head close to his scent gland, and commands “sleep” in a voice that you cannot disobey.

Eventually, you wake, the car is bright with the midday sun and the car is half full. Yoongi’s eyes are bloodshot as they train on every passenger who comes in and leaves your train car. Yoongi holds your hand, rubbing his thumb up and down the back in an endless trail. A conductor opens the door of your train car to pass through, bunching a few tickets here and there from the new passengers who have boarded the train.

He passes by where you're bundled and Yoongi flinches so hard it wakes you fully. his shoulder accidentally nudging a bruise on your cheek, He murmurs his apologies, panicked hands fussing over you. He could feel that he hit one of your bruises and the horror of hurting you make him wide-eyed and worried. You catch his hands, pressing the pads of them to your lips. Yoongi's hands shake as they touch you, hours later, he's still high on adrenaline. 

“You need to sleep Yoongi” it’s been a long few days for both of you.

He doesn’t answer with more than a grunt. But you get off the train at the next stop and it’s nearing noon by the time the two of you stumble across the street to a motel, and it’s shitty and smells like cigarettes and the lady at the front desk asks if you need the hourly rate or the daily rate. Though she does give you a discount because Yoongi’s a beta. Eyeing the blood-soaked collar of his jacket and the bloody bandages on your neck.

You should be holed up somewhere safe away from prying eyes to adjust to your new mating bite- not in a hotel where the smells of other people assault your nose. Making you press close to Yoongi because everything smells so new and scary. Like your senses have been turned up and only Yoongi can quell their sensitivity.

you don’t realize that the attendant gave you two beds until you get to the room. you both stare blankly before you cough and separated. the closeness too much now that you’re alone and free from threats. Though it doesn't feel that way. 

you hate it- you don’t want to curl up across the room from Yoongi- you want to be next to him. you almost whimper when he He steps away to the other bed to set down his backpack. You want to cry, your skin feels irritated and itchy without his pressed to yours. You want him to touch you but you can’t stay it. Don’t know how to ask around the thickness in your throat.

He gets a clean shirt from his black backpack and helps you put it on so that you don’t irritate the mating bite. You can’t lift either of your arms much and neither can he but he pushes through the pain for you. He only has 2 or three sets of clothes that he grabbed from the cottage, and it’s all you’ve got.

“We’ll get some more clothes for you tomorrow.” He doesn’t say that you should have grabbed some of your clothes- because you both know you couldn’t handle staying in that house a second more than was necessary. You barely thought to linger long enough to grab your purse, which thankfully had everything you really need in it. 

Somehow he has athletic tape in his bag, and he spends a few minutes changing out your soaked through bandages, bundling up toilet paper, and taping it over your mating bite. Only after yours is taken care of does he let you do the same for his bite on his hip, and the burns on his hands. 

You pull his pants off and then his boxers down just enough so that you can get at it, small from your mouth, the skin around it irritated and pink. You try not to let your eyes hover on the small happy trail that traces from his belly button downwards. The band on his boxers is stained with blood- and you wonder how much it hurt to have it dig into it all day.

You curl up in separate beds, and only when you’re under the covers do you slide off your pants. leaving you only in a large shirt that smells like yoongi.  Yoongi does the same, says “goodnight” and shuts off the light but doesn’t turn away from you, keeping his eyes on you in the darkness. 

You’re silent for a few minutes, but you can tell that neither of you is falling asleep. Your bed feels cold and you wonder if he feels the same, you let the distance hurt for a minute before you give in.  

"Thank fucking god-" He peels back the blanket for you the second you make the move and dash across the cold room. you scoot into his warmth and he lets out a little ‘oof’ when you collide. Letting him pull you closer, put the blanket over your back, and make sure all of your skin is covered.

It’s not enough for Yoongi and he pulls you sideways so that he can get some of his weight on top of you. A growl building in his chest at the thought of anyone walking through the door right now.

He needs to check the lock, make sure that no one can possibly disturb you. Needs to- the instinct filling him so harshly he can’t breathe. He tries to pull away, but your hands tighten on him, and you let out a whine so heartbreaking that instantly has him releasing comforting chocolate, flopping back on top of you nuzzling under your chin, you feel like you’re drowning in it. 

Your love with Yoongi is still too new and raw to be close like this without feeling shy- and yet you can’t resist, your mating bond is like a fresh burn that you can’t stop picking at because it hurts. (Like there’s something dead there that you need to get rid of, you can’t heal around, you need to tear it out so that it feels more like bleeding rather than something that was carved out by hungry heat.) You fiddle with the bandage at your neck before Yoongi takes your hand in his, lacing your fingers together.

For a moment, you crave the release that blood might give you- and like he can feel it. Yoongi presses a kiss to the back of your hand. “Couldn’t sleep?” Yoongi says. You shake your head. The motel creeks and overhead you can hear someone else moving in an adjacent room. Yoongi gets his head on your pillow and adjusts his hand around your waist so that he’s not hitting the vicious bruise that Geumjae left with one of his kicks.

The last 24 hours have been such a tangle. It feels weird to not move now. Yoongi’s heart is still hammering; you can feel it under your palm. You’re both unwilling to relax and close your eyes even for a second even though you’re both exhausted.

You’re worried if you close your eyes you’re going to see Geumjae's face.

Yoongi left the light in the bathroom on for you. Sensing that the shadows would be too thick with nightmares for you to handle for long. You look at each other in the darkness before Yoongi lets out a shaky little giggle.

“Do you know what I just realized?” he says, the words quieted against the too scratchy bedspread. “We could have gotten a better hotel, we easily have enough money for it now” and that’s true.

If Yoongi’s orders were followed and the gang's accountant really did transfer all of your inherited wealth to your name then- fuck- both of you saw the bank statements. Both of you know how much money Yoongi’s family had amassed- the same wealth that Geumjae had inherited and now you.

“Fuck you’re right,” you say, ducking in so that you don’t have to meet Yoongi’s eyes. Geumjae used to hit you sometimes if you did that- and trained habits die-hard. 

yoongi kisses your brow, slow little pecks that travel down your cheeks, as unhurried as they are sweet. It's strange to be close to him now when it’s all you’ve wanted for the last few months. You never thought you’d get this. It feels like a daydream and a nightmare all at once.

“We could buy a whole house- or three” and even then you’d have more than enough money to live on after. For the rest of your days, comfortable and cozy even if you were foolish with the money. Yoongi still gets his stipend from the gang. No doubt to be greater now that he’s the only beta.

He stops his kisses, mouth hovering on your cheek, “We could do that.” he sounds like he’s barely containing his excitement. 

You’ll both be fine. Neither of you will ever have to worry about money again and it makes you feel sick and happy with something that feels a terrible lot like grief.

Even if you got that- the last 24 hours haven’t been worth it. You’re not entirely out of the woods yet. The mark on your shoulder is scabbing over and inky. But every few hours of closeness that the two of you have- Yoongi think’s he sees the color fade- just a little bit.

You don’t know where the giggle comes from but one moment it comes out of your mouth and you laugh, and Yoongi joins in the sound startling out of his chest. He presses his forehead tight against yours and sighs at the sound. You see the moment clarity falls on him and an idea settles into his mind the second it hits. And dim happiness settles over your bond.

Yoongi lifts your hand to his mouth and kisses your bruised knuckles. “Let's buy a house.”

You smile- tired from today but still willing to placate him. “Okay Yoongi, we can do that.”

Now finally, his eyes are starting to droop, every few seconds he tries to keep them open, but you know he's seconds away from sleep. His words slurred when they whisper, his sweet chocolaty breath tickling your cheeks. “Goodnight sweetheart- love you.”

“Love you too,” it’s the first time you’ve ever said those words to each other. It feels like the first of many times you’ll say it. Forever- you and Yoongi will be mated together until you both die. And who cares if that happens tomorrow or months from now. Who cares? Because you have him and that’s all that matters.

Yoongi holds you and knows- that he will love you- as long as he can.

He watches you sleep, waits until your eyes are closed. Until he can make sure you’re safe and warm. A gentle purring fills the hotel room, soft and peaceful. yoongi hears it louder when he presses his ear to your chest. He tries to keep his eyes open, but somewhere around the second hour- they fall closed.

Neither of you dream.

—————

Please Reblog and Comment! 

Series Masterlist ~ Donate ~ Twitter

[beels-burger-babe]

With You Always

***So I really really really love this idea, but I'm going to tweak it just a little bit so rather than only seeing them in mirrors, MC can just always see them when the brothers aren't around. This one is going to take place after they return to the human realm. I'm also going to be using he/him pronouns for the crush that'll be mentioned. I figured since all the dateables in the game identify as male, it'd be a safe bet. Thank you so so much for this creative request @gender-less-lemon (also I freaking love your profile picture. Monster Camp/Prom is hilarious)***

Summary: An average day of high school with MC...and the seven pact manifestations that haunt their vision.

TW: Bullying You were awoken not by an alarm, or your guardian, or even some random noise from outside, but rather a phantom gnawing on your arm. With a groan, you blinked open your eyes and saw just your regular old room, with one minor difference; a spectral red bear was happily teething on your elbow. You chuckled and pet the manifestation, noting the brightly glowing symbol of gluttony resting in its stomach. "Okay, Beel," you mumbled to yourself as you dragged yourself out of bed, pushing the purple translucent calf sleeping on your stomach, in the process. "I hear you." Ever since you had returned to the human realm, you had been followed around by spectral manifestations of the seven pacts that you owned. By the looks of things, no one else could see them, and they only appeared when the connected sin was active or needed, but it helped you feel less alone. You missed the brothers more than you had anticipated. It was more than a little bit of a culture shock to go from being loved and spoiled every day to being the misfit in your high school. Speaking of which, you needed to get going if you weren't going to be late. As you rushed around our room frantically grabbing the things you needed to get ready, the calf-like manifestation of sloth sat on your bed mooing in complaint. You sent a glare over to it as you finished collecting your belongings. "Trust me, I rather stay home and sleep too, buddy. But I have to go." Grabbing some fruit on your way out the door, you just managed to make it to school on time. Now it was simply a matter of surviving the day.

In all honesty, you preferred RAD to high school. In RAD, the subjects were interesting and grasped your attention without any problems at all. You had friends, even outside of the brothers. Sure there were always demons that would talk down about the kid human that clung to the demon lords, but you had the brothers to protect you. It was nice.

Now that you were back in the human world, you had none of that. In fact, you were even more of a misfit than when you were before. The teenager that vanished for a year and came back weirder than before; that was you. At first, you couldn't get people to leave you alone, but once they realized you weren't going to give them answers they backed off. You would occasionally laugh or whisper to the manifestations, which would earn you some more than weird looks, but you didn't care. These weird little ghost-like creatures were one of the only things you had connecting you to the Devildom. They meant more to you than anything else. As you entered your classroom, you had to bite back a laugh at the sight of one of your classmates looking around in confusion as, unknown to them, a golden yellow crow flapped around their head and pecked at the shiny earrings they were wearing. You took your seat in the back of the classroom and watch in amusement as the crow continued pecking at the various belongings of students, causing subtle chaos and confusion. Leave it to Mammon to make your day even when he wasn't actually there. Your teacher walked in and sat down in his chair. "Alright, class. Today we're going to continue with our history presentations. Remember these were subjects of your choice, so I do hope that you can at least pretend to be interested," he sighed and pulled out a clipboard. "Looks like the next person presenting is...MC." You winced and looked down at your notes. The topic was definitely one you were confident in, but to present it in front of your class. What if no one liked it? What if people laughed? What if- You felt a nudge on your arm. You glanced over to see a dazzling blue peacock, straightening its long neck out high as it puffed out its chest. The pride manifestation gestured forward with its head and almost seemed to smile at you. You smiled gently as you felt warmth grow from his pact mark on your inner wrist and stood up beside the peacock. It cawed and began to strut forward, leading the way to the front of the class. The mental image of Lucifer doing the same almost caused you to burst out laughing. You finally turned to the class and held your head up proudly as you began to speak. "My presentation today will be on biblical demonology and the way it has evolved throughout the eons of its existence." It was the best presentation you had ever given in your life. Riding off of the high from history class, the day seemed to fly by. Before you knew it was time for lunch. The bear was back, this time just softly moaning it continued butting your back with its head in an attempt to get you to go to the cafeteria faster. With one particularly heard shove, you were sent stumbling forward, directly into the chest of someone. "I'm so sorry! I'm a total clutz. I just tripped, I hadn't meant to-" you cut yourself off as you looked up and noticed you were looking at your crush. Your jaw snapped shut as you felt your face suddenly become uncomfortably hot. He smiled and waved off the apology. "It's alright. Just an accident right?" Your face became even hotter as you noticed a bright pink rabbit jumping up and down happily behind him. "I- Uh...Ehm...Y-Yeah! Yeah, t-totally an accident. I'm seat so I should go find my hungry. I-I mean!" He chuckled and nodded. "No worries, I get what you're trying to say. Enjoy your seat, MC," he gave you a wink, causing you to squeak as he walked off. You glared down at the rabbit running happy circles around your feet and the red bear that was sulking guiltily in a corner. "I blame you two for this." With an embarrassed huff, you entered the cafeteria and found yourself instantly wanting to walk back out. Everyone was laughing and talking with one another in their friend groups at their tables. Some gossiped eagerly over a magazine. Others sat silently with one another while they gamed or read books. There was even a table where a group of theatre kids were drumming out a soundtrack beat on the table while singing their favourite

songs. You ducked your head down and grabbed a tray of food before moving to the lonely table in the back, doing your best to ignore the giant orange snake that slithered between the tables, occasionally hissing and tripping students. You tried not to think of how you could be just like those groups of laughing friends, if only you were still at RAD. Your heart ached as you thought about the brothers. Maybe you could call them tonight. You let out a heavy sigh as you stood up and went to leave. You had almost made it to the door when a familiar face stopped you. Standing just a couple inches taller than you, surrounded by their groupies, was your tormentor, Taylor. You weren't entirely sure why they hated you so much. You just knew that they did, and that it got even worse when you came back from the Devildom. Taylor smirked with their arms crossed over their chest. "Where do you think your going? You haven't come to say hello yet." You scoffed and tried to walk past them. "Leave me alone, Taylor. I'm not in the mood for this today," before you could get very far, you were harshly onto the floor, stealing the breath from your lungs. You gasped and glared up at them. "What the fuck?!" The bully just sneered down at you. "You may not be in the mood for this, but I am. You know I heard about your weirdo presentation. Demons? Really? What are you, a satanist?" Their word choice was really ironic, for at that moment you noticed the large, white unicorn with flaming green hair and eyes appear behind them. The beast stomped its hooves and whinnied dangerously. You gulped nervously and looked up at Taylor. "Even if I was, it's not your business. I just find the topic interesting is all." You went to stand up, and therefore force the angry horse with a horn away from Taylor, but were stopped as they placed their foot on top of your chest. "I bet that's why you have all those weird tattoos, huh? What did you run away and join a cult for a year? Freak!" You could feel Satan's pact mark on the back of your neck grow hotter and hotter to the point that you were concerned the manifestation may be trying to summon him. Your eyes widen as you noticed it back up a few steps and point its horn at Taylor. You knew that the creatures normally could do small interactions with others, such as tripping or pushing, but you had never seen them attempt anything so violent. You couldn't just let it kill someone. "STOP!" The cafeteria fell quiet, but you weren't looking at them or even Taylor, you were looking at the unicorn. The manifestation neighed in frustration and jumped around, but obeyed your command. You slumped in relief. Looking back over to Taylor, you found them glaring down at you like you were nothing but a bug. They opened their mouth to degrade you even further when a teacher finally stepped forward. "What is happening here?" You walked over to the unicorn while Taylor fed the teacher a handful of lies. You leaned over to the manifestation and whispered under your breath. "Thank you for trying to protect me, but you can't hurt people. Just leave it be." The creature snorted and nuzzled your shoulder. In comparison to the hectic lunch hour, the rest of the day passed by with ease. In no time at all, you were back home in your room. You had just plopped onto your bed, when you heard a familiar ringtone. You smiled brightly and quickly grabbed your D.D.D. before immediately answering the phone. "Hello?" "Oh, you answered that quite quickly," you grinned at the surprise in Satan's tone. "I was just calling to-" "IS THAT MC?! GIMME!!!" You laughed as the sounds of Satan yelling and running from Mammon came through the other end. There was a yelp, a bang, and a victorious whoop before you could hear the device get picked up by someone. "'Hey MC! How was your day? I hope you didn't miss the great Mammon too badly. N-Not that I've missed you or anything just wanted to know how you're doin' is all." Belphie's purple calf climbed its way into your lap once more as you gently patted its head.

"I miss you too, Mammon. And today wasn't bad. I'd say it was pretty average overall." You could hear Satan growl in the background before there was a loud thud followed by a scream from Mammon. Satan took the phone back. "Just average you say? Nothing special?" You frowned and narrowed your eyebrows in confusion. "No, why?" To your right, the unicorn neighed softly and plopped down beside your bed. "Well, I could've sworn I felt our pact become triggered at some point today and...Well in all honesty I was concerned. We worry about you getting hurt without us there with you, MC." You couldn't help but smile softly as one by one each of the manifestations of your pacts made their way to your bed and laid down. "I know," you replied affectionately. "Though I'm never completely alone. So long as I have my pacts, you guys will always be with me." ***This was such an interesting concept to toy around with. I hope this wasn't too confusing and actually makes sense 😅😅 Thanks again for the amazing request @gender-less-lemon!***

Taglist @thegrimgrinningghost

@henry-and-the-seven-lords

@satans-beloved-riv

@cosmixbun

@sufzku

[smallwordsmeanalot]

My favorite sentences from Loveless by Alice Oseman

She felt like home 

I so desperately wanted [...] someone. [...] I wanted to be loved. Was that such a bad thing ? To want an intimate connection with another human ?

Kissing a stranger you’d never see again, kissing someone whose name you didn’t even know, just to feel a little high in that moment. Just to feel the warmth of someone’s skin on yours. Just, for a while, to feel purely alive. 

I hated her. I wanted to be her. I hated myself.

I didn’t even know what was wrong. Everything. Myself.

feeling increasingly like i just didn’t really fit anywhere

I felt genuinely relaxed and happy, which was definitely a sign that i was not in my right mind

“This is so dumb, but it just… it just gave me hope. Just a little bit.” Pip let out a breath. “Like …I might not be alone forever. Like I might have a chance to… be properly myself here. To feel like being myself is a good thing. [...] I don’t know if I ever felt like being me was… good.”

I had spent my whole life believing that romantic love was waiting for me. That one day I'd find it and I would be totally, finally happy. But now I had to accept that it would never happen. [...] And the worst part of it was - even though I'd longed for these things, I knew that they’d never make me happy anyway. The idea was beautiful. But the reality made me sick.”

"I’m just lonely. I’m just so lonely all the time." 

“You are a fucking nightmare.” Rooney smirked back. “I am and you love it.”

“I just don't want to see you give up without trying”. [...] What I was doing wasn’t 'giving up'. It was acceptance. 

I was angry at the world for making me hate who I was. 

Being a human is fucking terrifying. But it’s a hell of a lot easier if you’re not doing it by yourself. 

“Why do you care ?” she whispered. Not in a mean way. A genuine question. Like she honestly couldn’t fathom what the answer was. “Why do you care about me ?”

I could have been so happy, but love ruined me. 

"I hate the idea of people knowing me because … surely then they’ll hate me the same way I hate myself."

I hope she felt safe with me. 

Were we not enough for her in the end ? Was i not enough ?

"I feel at home around you in a way I have never felt in my fucking life."