#every song in the series is made with such deliberation and care it would be disrespectful to not give the same back

[red-dyed-sarumane]

i like to think & joke about the girlies in my free time bc i think their personalities are a fun combination but do not for a second think im only into aru sekai series for the shipping or even general jokes. this is something so serious to me & i can and will take my opportunities to write dissertations on it

[03jyh23]

💬⌇like i need you part two┆ jeong yunho

│part of goes to waste the series based on my favourite keshi songs

│listen here

│part one

non-idol!yunho x non-idol!reader

│synopsis: yunho's love for you burns fiercely. as lovers turned exes, he's left shattered when you leave, moving out of the apartment you once shared. his nights become a blur of desperation, calling you relentlessly, begging for another chance.

│genre: lovers to exes, angst, smut

│(!)trigger warnings: mental health issues, self-harm (mentioned), blood, toxic relationships, depression, emotional trauma, strong language, emotional abuse, nicotine addiction, explicit sexual content, angry sex

please be sure to proceed with caution. this story contains themes that may be distressing to some readers.

│words: 11.6 k

│reminder: what you’re about to read is purely fiction, so let’s keep it separate from reality.

!minors do not interact!

love, mon♡

│taglist: @skittyneos │ @kyeos4ng │ @vcutparis │

│ @ateezswonderland │ @jycas│ @velvetskize │ @e3ellie │

│ @sertralinehoe │ @hoeforalbedo │

Mingi took the stairs two at a time, his heart thundering in his chest as he raced to the fourth floor. Every second felt like an eternity as adrenaline coursed through his veins. Without pausing to catch his breath, he burst through the doors of Yunho's apartment, the sound of devastating sobs immediately assaulting his ears like shards of ice. He rushed toward the bathroom, each heartbeat growing more intense with mounting dread.

The scene that confronted him knocked the air from his lungs. Yunho was huddled in the bathroom corner, surrounded by a constellation of broken mirror fragments. His knuckles were a mess of crimson, delicate skin shredded by countless tiny shards of glass that glinted menacingly in the harsh bathroom light. Blood had splattered across the tiles, but Yunho seemed completely unaware of his injuries as he rocked back and forth, broken words tumbling from his lips between gut-wrenching sobs.

"Fuck, Yunho," Mingi whispered as he carefully navigated the minefield of glass shards. He lowered himself slowly, deliberately, "Hey, I'm here. I'm right here with you."

When Yunho finally lifted his gaze, Mingi's heart shattered at the sight. His friend's eyes were bloodshot and hollow, tears cutting paths through the anguish written across his features. "She's gone, Mingi," he choked out, his voice raw and broken. "She's really gone this time."

"I know," Mingi murmured, reaching out to squeeze Yunho's shoulder with gentle reassurance. "Let's get you cleaned up first, okay? Those hands need attention."

A bitter, hollow laugh escaped Yunho's throat, the sound more painful than any cry. "What's the point? Everything hurts anyway. Everything just... fucking hurts."

The raw agony in his friend's voice made Mingi's chest constrict painfully. In all their years of friendship, he'd never witnessed Yunho so thoroughly broken, so completely untethered from himself. Without hesitation or words, he carefully settled onto the cold bathroom floor beside him, careful to avoid the broken glass shards, and pulled his best friend into a protective embrace. Yunho crumpled against him instantly, his broad frame wracked with fresh, devastating sobs.

"She's never coming home," Yunho sobbed, hiding his face in the crook of Mingi's neck, his voice muffled but the pain in it crystal clear. His fingers clutched desperately at Mingi's shirt, staining it with blood, as if afraid his friend would disappear too if he let go.

"I've got you," Mingi whispered fiercely, tightening his hold as if he could physically keep his friend from falling apart. "I've got you, brother. Just let it all out."

"I was too harsh on her," Yunho whispered, his body trembling uncontrollably with renewed force. His bloodied fingers tightened their grip on Mingi's shirt. "I said such terrible things... I didn't mean to... God, I didn't mean to hurt her like that."

Mingi remained silent, knowing his friend needed to let everything out. The bathroom light flickered above them, casting shifting shadows across the devastation surrounding them.

"But it hurts so fucking much," Yunho continued, his voice cracking. "When I saw her, it's like... like I'm losing her all over again. And I can't... I can't keep feeling like this, Mingi. I can't keep pretending I'm okay with her being around but not really being mine anymore. I'm not okay. I'm so far from okay."

Mingi held his friend tighter as another wave of sobs wracked through Yunho's body. The blood from his injured hands was seeping through both their clothes now, but neither of them moved.

"Yun, we need to get you to the hospital," Mingi said softly. "They need to clean those-..."

"No," Yunho mumbled, shaking his head weakly against Mingi's shoulder. "Just... just let me stay here for a bit longer. Please."

"You're bleeding all over the place," Mingi insisted gently, though he didn't loosen his hold. "Those cuts could get infected. And some of them look deep enough to need stitches."

Yunho let out a shaky breath that might have been attempting to be a laugh. "Seems fitting, doesn't it? Everything else about me is fucked up and broken. Might as well match on the outside too."

"Don't," Mingi's voice was sharp but filled with concern. "Don't talk like that. Come on, let me help you up. We're going to the emergency room, and I'm not taking no for an answer this time."

After what felt like an eternity, Yunho finally gave a small, defeated nod. His movements were sluggish as Mingi carefully helped him to his feet, steadying him when he swayed dangerously. The bathroom light caught the tears still streaming down his face, making them glitter like the broken mirror fragments scattered at their feet.

"I'm sorry," Yunho whispered as Mingi guided him through the apartment. "For making you deal with all this. With me."

"Hey," Mingi's voice was fierce with protective love. "You never have to apologize for needing me. That's what brothers are for."

The insistent ringing of your doorbell jolted you awake. You were still on the sofa, coat, and shoes on, with no clear memory of how you'd made it home. As consciousness crashed over you, the memories came rushing back with a force that triggered a painful sensation in your temple. Your phone was dead, clutched tightly in your hand. The morning light filtering through your curtains felt too harsh, too accusatory, making your head pound even harder. Every blink brought back flashes of last night - Yunho's tears, his broken voice, the sound of something shattering against the wall. The taste in your mouth was bitter, a mix of bile and regret. You couldn't tell if the nausea rising in your throat was from the emotional aftermath or sympathy pains from watching Yunho be sick. Maybe it was both. Your eyes felt swollen and raw, your cheeks still tight from dried tears.

The doorbell rang again as you managed to get up from the sofa. With trembling hands, you finally plugged in your phone, dreading what messages might await. As the screen flickered to life, notifications began flooding in - missed calls from Mingi, concerned texts from your friend, but nothing from him. The silence from Yunho's end felt more deafening than any scream. His broken voice echoed in your head: "You lost that right."

The guilt hit you like a physical blow, knocking the air from your lungs. You'd been so focused on protecting yourself, on justifying your decisions, that you'd refused to truly see the devastation you'd left in your wake. The man who once lit up every room he entered, whose laugh could make your whole day better, was now drowning in darkness - and you were the one who'd extinguished his light. Memories began surfacing unbidden - his gentle touches, the way he'd kiss your forehead when you were stressed, how he'd dance ridiculously in the kitchen just to make you smile. Each happy memory now felt like a knife twisting in your chest, because you'd taken all that joy and turned it into poison.

You found yourself clutching your chest, trying to hold yourself together as the weight of what you'd done finally crashed over you. The love hadn't faded - it had been there all along, buried under layers of excuses and self-protection. But now it burned through you like acid, mixed with guilt so profound it felt like it might tear you apart.

The worst part was knowing that even if you wanted to fix it, to make it right, you'd lost that privilege. Your actions had burned that bridge to ashes, and now all you could do was watch from a distance as the person you loved most in the world fell apart, knowing you were the reason for both his pain and your own.

The doorbell rang again, more insistently this time, pulling you from your spiral of self-loathing. You knew it had to be Mingi - probably here to check on you after last night's chaos. Part of you wanted to pretend you weren't home, to sink deeper into your cocoon of misery, but you knew he wouldn't leave until he saw for himself that you were okay.

With a heavy sigh, you dragged yourself to the door, only to freeze when you opened it to find San standing there instead of Mingi. His expression was a mix of irritation and reluctance.

"Look, I don't want to be here, but Mingi was up my ass telling me to come—" San's words died in his throat as he took in your appearance, his annoyed expression shifting to something more complex. His eyes widened slightly, scanning over your tear-stained face, rumpled clothes, and the general air of devastation that must have been radiating off you.

The harsh edge in his stance softened almost imperceptibly. He cleared his throat, clearly uncomfortable with the situation he found himself in. "Shit," he muttered under his breath, running a hand through his hair. "You look as bad as he does."

You couldn't meet San's gaze, feeling utterly numb yet somehow experiencing everything all at once. The weight of last night's events pressed down on your chest, making it difficult to breathe. Your fingers absently traced the doorframe, seeking something solid to ground yourself as the world seemed to spin beneath your feet.

San sighed deeply, his shoulders sagging as he made his way into the apartment without waiting for an invitation. You remained frozen in place, your mind struggling to process the simple act of his presence, staring blankly at the space where he had been standing for several long seconds before your foggy consciousness registered that he was already inside. Time felt distorted, moving both too quickly and too slowly, as you finally managed to close the door with trembling fingers, the soft click of the latch echoing in the heavy silence.

San finally spoke, his voice slightly softer than before, "Mingi's worried about both of you, and honestly..." He paused, choosing his words carefully. "I've never seen Yunho like this before. Not even when..."

He trailed off, leaving the unspoken words hanging heavily in the air. You could see the conflict in his expression - the loyalty to his friend warring with the understanding that pain rarely chooses sides.

"Look," he continued, shifting his weight uncomfortably. "I know it's not my place, and maybe I'm the last person who should be here right now. But Mingi's at the hospital with Yunho, and he wanted to make sure you were... functioning, I guess."

The word 'hospital' hit you like a physical blow, making your knees weak. "Hospital?" your voice came out barely above a whisper.

San's expression tightened, realizing he might have said too much. He ran a hand through his hair again, a gesture of clear discomfort. "It's not... He's going to be fine. Physically, at least."

To change the subject, San looked around the apartment, taking in the unfamiliar surroundings. "What's even this place?"

"It's my friend's apartment," you explained, your voice still raw. "She's out of town for a work project, so I'm crashing here until she's back."

San sighed heavily as he made his way to sit down on a kitchen table chair, you followed in his footsteps. His eyes lingered on your disheveled state as you sat down across him, a mix of concern and resignation crossing his features. "You should change, considering you're still in your coat from yesterday. Maybe take a shower? I'll just be here until you finish."

You remained frozen in place, the thought of changing, of doing anything normal, felt surreal in the face of everything that had happened.

"Listen," San leaned back in his chair, his expression a mix of exhaustion and frustration. "Mingi asked me to check on you. Trust me, I'm not exactly thrilled about playing messenger between you two so let’s just get it done with quick."

"I didn't ask for anyone to check on me," you muttered.

"No, you didn't," San agreed, his voice carrying a sharp edge. "But Mingi's stuck in the middle of this mess, watching his two best friends tear themselves and each other apart. So here I am, making sure you haven't completely fallen apart too."

His eyes narrowed as he leaned forward, fingers drumming against the table. "I have no idea what's gotten into you to walk out of your shared life with Yunho, and quite honestly, I don't even want to take the time to understand you," San's words cut through the air. "Do you have any idea what you've done? The life you two built together, the plans, the dreams - you didn't just walk away from him, you demolished everything. And for what?"

His voice grew quieter, but somehow that made it worse. "He loved you more than anything in this world. The way he looked at you... God, we all wished someone would look at us that way. And you just..." he shook his head, disgust evident in his features. "You took all of that and threw it away like it meant nothing. Like he meant nothing."

"He keeps saying he wasn't enough," San continued, his voice cracking slightly. "That he should have tried harder, been better. Do you know what it's like watching someone you care about destroy themselves because they think they're worthless?”

Every word felt like another weight added to the crushing guilt already suffocating you. San wasn't saying anything you hadn't already told yourself, but hearing it from someone else, someone who had witnessed the destruction from the outside, made it feel devastatingly real.

You wanted to speak, to defend yourself, to explain the tangled mess of fears and doubts that had driven you to this point, but the words died in your throat. San's judgment felt like a mirror reflecting back every self-accusation you'd been wrestling with since moving out.

San watched you for a long moment, his expression unreadable. "I get it. Love is scary. Commitment is terrifying. But running away? That's not the answer. It never is."

"I thought I was protecting myself," you admitted, your voice barely audible. "I thought if I left first, it would hurt less than eventually losing him. But now..."

"Now you're both destroyed," San finished bluntly. "Congratulations on that stellar logic."

The silence that followed was deafening, filled with all the things left unsaid, all the regrets that were too late to matter, and all the pain that seemed to have no end in sight.

"Just go take that shower," San repeated firmly, his patience wearing thin.

"I will, right after you tell me how's Yunho and why he ended up in the hospital," you countered, your voice finding a sudden strength. "I'm still his emergency contact. If you won't tell me, I'll just call the hospital myself."

San's face twisted into a cruel smirk. "Oh, now you care? That's rich coming from someone who walked away without a second thought. Who abandoned everything we all thought was real. You lost the right to know anything about him the moment you chose to leave."

"I need you to leave," you said, your voice trembling with barely contained emotion, fingers digging into your palms so hard they left crescent marks. "Get the fuck out. Now."

San's eyes narrowed dangerously, a cruel smirk playing at the corners of his mouth. "Or what? You'll run away from me too? That's your specialty, isn't it? Running away when things get too real, too fucking difficult?"

"This isn't your goddamn business, San," you snapped, anger finally breaking through your numbness like a dam bursting. Your voice rose with each word, echoing off the walls. "You don't get to come here and act like you know every fucking thing about my relationship with Yunho. You have no idea what I've been through, what we've—"

"Oh, but I do know," San stood up so violently his chair crashed to the floor behind him, his voice thundering through the apartment. "I fucking know because I'm the one who had to watch him break down last night! I'm the one who—"

"GET THE FUCK OUT!" you screamed, the force of your voice ripping through your throat like razor blades. The vase on the table shattered as your hand swept across it in a blind rage. Your whole body was trembling, tears streaming down your face as you pointed at the door. "Just... get out. Please. I can't... I can't do this anymore."

San stared at you for what felt like an eternity, his jaw clenched so tight you could see the muscle twitching. The silence between you crackled with tension, thick enough to choke on. Finally, he moved towards the door with deliberate slowness, stopping just before he opened it. His knuckles turned white as he gripped the doorknob.

"You know what's really fucking funny?" he said, his voice dropping to a deadly whisper that somehow cut deeper than any scream. "You're right. This isn't my business. But at least I stayed to fight for it. You?" He let out a bitter laugh that felt like acid in the air. "You just gave up. Like a fucking coward."

The door slammed behind him with such force that the walls seemed to vibrate with the echoes of his anger. You stood there, frozen, staring at the closed door as his words reverberated in your mind. The shards of the broken vase glinted on the floor, a perfect metaphor for the wreckage of your life.

Like a robot operating on autopilot, you dragged yourself to the bathroom. The shattered vase remained forgotten on the floor, a problem for another time. Your mind was too clouded, too heavy with thoughts that refused to settle. The shower routine passed in a blur - you couldn't remember if you'd washed your hair once or twice, or if you'd even used soap at all. Getting dressed was equally mechanical, with muscle memory taking over where conscious thought failed.

Before you knew it, you were back on the sofa, staring blankly at nothing in particular. Your phone felt unnaturally heavy in your hand, and when it started vibrating with Mingi's incoming call, your heart lurched painfully in your chest.

You stared at the screen, watching Mingi's name flash insistently. Each vibration felt like another accusation, another reminder of everything you'd destroyed. After what felt like an eternity, you let the call go to voicemail, your hand trembling as you set the phone face-down on the coffee table.

The phone buzzed two more times in quick succession - Mingi, again and again. Each vibration seemed to echo through your entire body, but you couldn't bring yourself to answer. Eventually, the rhythmic buzzing of yet another incoming call became a strange lullaby, pulling you into a fitful sleep right there on the couch.

The gentle knock at the door pulled you from your restless sleep. Your body protested as you stood up, muscles stiff from sleeping in an awkward position. Opening the door revealed Mingi, his tall frame carrying several bags of takeout, his expression softer than you'd expected.

"Hey," he said quietly, lifting the bags slightly. "Thought you might need some food. Can I come in?"

You stepped aside wordlessly, letting him enter. The apartment still bore the evidence of your confrontation with San - the broken vase pieces swept hastily into a corner, the overturned chair still lying on its side.

Mingi set the food down on the table and turned to you, his eyes full of concern. Without warning, he pulled you into a tight hug. The familiar comfort of his embrace broke something inside you, and you found yourself clinging to him as tears started falling again.

"I know," he murmured, rubbing soothing circles on your back. "I know it's hard. But you need to eat something, okay?"

Mingi let you go from his hug, looking around the small apartment with concerned eyes. He quietly righted the overturned chair, his gaze lingering on the broken vase in the corner. Moving to crouch beside the shattered pieces, he carefully picked up a larger fragment.

"Mingi, don't..." you whispered.

"I'll help you clean this up," he said softly, already looking around for something to sweep up the smaller pieces. "We shouldn't leave broken glass lying around."

You found a dustpan and brush in the kitchen, bringing them back to help Mingi clean up the mess. Working together in silence, you gathered the glittering shards, each piece a reminder of your earlier outburst. The simple act of cleaning somehow felt therapeutic, as if clearing away the physical debris could somehow help clear the emotional wreckage as well.

As you both settled at the table, Mingi began unpacking containers of your favorite comfort foods. The gesture was so thoughtful it made your throat tight.

"Listen," he said carefully, watching you pick at your food. "I know this isn't ideal timing, but... Yunho's going to be staying with me for a while. A few days at least. I think... I think it might be good if you used this time to get your things from the apartment. You know, the rest of your stuff."

You froze mid-bite, the implications of his words hitting you hard. Getting your things meant truly accepting it was over. Making it final.

"I'll help you," Mingi offered gently, reaching across the table to squeeze your hand. "You don't have to do it alone."

You stared down at your barely touched food, the weight of his words settling heavily in your chest. The thought of going back to that apartment, of seeing all the remnants of your shared life with Yunho, made your stomach twist into knots.

"I'll do it myself," you whispered, wiping furiously at the tears that wouldn't stop falling. Your voice cracked as you looked at Mingi, desperation clawing at your chest. "Is it... is it really over like this?"

Mingi remained silent, his eyes filled with a sadness that spoke volumes. The weight of his silence crushed what little hope you had left, and you found yourself breaking down completely, shoulders shaking with uncontrollable sobs. The silence stretched between you, heavy with unspoken truths. You both knew who had walked away. You both knew whose choices had led to this moment. The guilt of it all made your chest ache unbearably.

"Please," you choked out between sobs, "just tell me how he is. Is he okay? I need to know if he's okay."

But Mingi just sat there, his silence a reminder of San's earlier words - you'd lost the right to know. Your tears fell harder as the reality of your situation sank in deeper, each quiet moment another reminder of everything you'd thrown away.

Perhaps Mingi's heart was too pure, or perhaps the years of friendship between all of you were what made him finally break his silence. His expression softened as he watched you fall apart.

"He..." Mingi hesitated, weighing his words carefully. "He broke the mirror in his bathroom. Got some bad cuts from playing with the glass. They had to put in stitches, but thankfully there's no permanent nerve damage, even though some cuts were pretty deep." He paused, running a hand through his hair. "They're keeping him for vitamin IVs right now. Turns out he hasn't been eating properly... they want to monitor him for a bit."

The words hit you with a force that knocked the air out of your lungs, each detail making it harder to breathe. The image of Yunho, alone and hurting enough to... You pressed your hands against your face, trying to hold back a fresh wave of tears.

"Nurse told me he was asleep," Mingi continued, checking his phone briefly. "I had to leave since they wouldn't let me stay as I'm not family. I decided to just stop by here since they won't let him out till evening. I'll get him and we'll go to mine - I don't want him to be alone."

His words twisted the knife of guilt deeper into your heart. You'd been his family once, or at least you were supposed to be.

Now you were just another stranger, someone who'd lost the privilege of knowing how he was doing, of being there when he needed support. This was the consequence of your choices, the price of walking away. Your chest felt hollow as you stared at your food, wondering how everything had fallen apart so completely.

"Why did you do that?" Mingi asked softly, his eyes searching your face for answers. "You both were so happy. Everyone could see how much he loved you, how much you loved him. What changed?"

The question hung heavy in the air between you, forcing you to confront the choices that had led to this moment. Your hands trembled as you put your fork down, buying time as you struggled to find the words to explain something you barely understood yourself.

"You love him, I know you do," Mingi added, his eyes scanning your face. "That's what makes this even harder to understand."

"I got scared," you whispered, your voice barely audible. "Everything was so perfect, and I... I convinced myself it couldn't last. That I'd end up losing him anyway, so maybe if I left first..." You trailed off, realizing how pathetic it sounded.

"So you chose to break both your hearts instead?" Mingi's voice was gentle but carried an undercurrent of frustration.

"I know it doesn't make sense," you said, tears falling freely now. "I know I ruined everything. I just... I couldn't handle how much I needed him. How much it would destroy me if he ever left."

Mingi sighed heavily, his eyes scanning your tear-stained face. "I hate to admit it, but... look at you. You're a mess too. You've completely ruined yourself. You look like you haven't slept in days, your eyes are swollen from crying, and..." He trailed off, shaking his head with a mixture of frustration and concern. "You destroyed yourselves trying to prevent something that wasn't even happening."

Your eyes welled up with fresh tears at his words, knowing he was right. The irony of it all felt like a cruel joke - you'd walked away to avoid pain, only to cause more devastation than you could have imagined.

"You know," Mingi said softly, his eyes distant as if remembering something, "he still wants to call you in the middle of the night. Every single night." He let out a heavy sigh. "He sits there, phone in hand, staring at your number until dawn breaks. Won't press call anymore, but... the need is still there. And I know you do the same - I can see it in your eyes, in how exhausted you look. You both need each other like you need air to breathe, but you're both too scared to make that first move."

The memory of all those nights spent staring at your phone, finger hovering over Yunho's name, praying he would call first, made your chest ache.

"You threw it all away because you were afraid of losing it," Mingi continued, his voice gentle but firm. "But look at what happened - you lost it anyway. The very thing you were trying to prevent... you made it happen."

You let out a shaky breath, your hands trembling as you wiped away fresh tears. The truth in his words carved deeper than any knife - you'd orchestrated your own heartbreak, conducted this symphony of pain with the precision of someone determined to suffer. Your gaze dropped to your lap, unable to meet his eyes as the weight of your self-fulfilling prophecy crushed what remained of your resolve.

"Just..." Mingi paused, running his hand through his hair with visible frustration. "Don't try to get him back. I'm for real. Not right now, when he's this broken. He needs time to heal, and so do you. If you really love him, give him that at least."

You knew he was right. The image of Yunho in the hospital, of his bandaged hands, was enough to make you understand the gravity of what you'd done.

"Y/N," Mingi started, his voice heavy with resignation. "I know you're hurting too, but I can't be in the middle of this right now. All I ask is that you get your things while he's staying with me. Give him space to heal."

"But I still need him," you whispered, voice cracking. "I know what I did was wrong, but I never wanted this to happen."

"Please," Mingi said firmly, raising his hand. His eyes held a mixture of concern and exhaustion. "I can't hear this right now. Not when he's in the hospital because—" He stopped himself, shaking his head. "Just do what I asked, okay?"

"Could you at least tell him that I—"

"No," he cut you off as he got up from the chair, already moving towards the door. "I won't carry messages between you two. That's not fair to anyone."

He paused at the doorway, his tall frame casting a long shadow across your floor. "Take care of yourself, alright?" The gentleness in his voice only made your chest ache more. With that, he left, the gentle click of the door somehow worse than San's earlier slam.

You stared at the food he'd brought, but your appetite had completely vanished. After a few half-hearted attempts to eat, you pushed the containers away. Your eyes landed on your phone, still face-down on the coffee table. The thought of going to collect your things from the apartment made your stomach churn, but Mingi was right – it needed to be done.

Maybe it was better to do it now, while everything still felt numb. You grabbed your keys and jacket, leaving the uneaten food on the table. Each step towards your car felt like walking through quicksand, but you forced yourself to keep moving. The sooner you did this, the sooner everyone could start healing – even if that meant healing without you.

The apartment key felt impossibly heavy in your hand as you stood before the familiar door. Taking a deep breath, you pushed it open, and immediately the scent of him - that unique blend of his cologne and just... him - hit you like a physical force.

Your eyes landed on the entryway, where you'd both stumbled through that very first night, drunk on love and anticipation. You remembered how he'd pressed you against that wall, his lips trailing fire down your neck as you'd giggled, both of you nearly tripping over the moving boxes that still littered the floor. "Welcome home," he'd whispered against your skin, and you'd never felt more certain about anything in your life.

Moving to the bedroom was like walking through a minefield of memories. The bed where you'd spent countless nights tangled in each other's arms. That first night, when his touches had been so gentle, so reverent as if he couldn't believe you were real. The way he'd worshipped every inch of your body, whispering promises against your skin until you were both breathless and trembling.

With shaking hands, you began pulling your remaining clothes from the closet. Each item held a memory - the sweater you'd worn on your first date, the dress from that summer party where he couldn't keep his eyes off you. His hoodies that you'd claimed as your own still smelled like him, and you found yourself pressing one to your face, inhaling deeply as tears started falling.

The bathroom was worse. Your toothbrush still stood next to his in that ridiculous holder he'd insisted on buying because it looked like a tiny robot. The sight of the broken mirror made your stomach lurch - you could almost see the scene Mingi had described, the sound of shattering glass echoing in your mind. Mechanically, you gathered your cosmetics, your favorite shampoo, the face masks he'd always tease you about but secretly loved using himself.

Back in the bedroom, you faced the wall of polaroids - a chronicle of your relationship. There you both were, beaming at the camera on a moving day, surrounded by boxes. Another showed you both covered in paint after attempting to DIY the living room walls. So many captured kisses, lazy Sunday mornings, and surprise back hugs. Your fingers traced the edge of one particular photo - both of you tangled in sheets, your hair a mess, his lips pressed to your temple. He'd insisted on capturing that moment, said he wanted to remember exactly how beautiful you looked in the morning light.

The gifts were the hardest. The plush bear he'd won at that carnival, even though he'd spent way too much money trying. The bracelet from your first anniversary, engraved with the date you met. That silly coffee mug with your inside joke printed on it. Each item felt like it was burning your fingers as you packed it away, each one a reminder of promises you'd broken.

You found yourself sitting on the edge of the bed - your bed, his bed, the bed that had been yours together - clutching your favorite pillow to your chest. The one he'd always steal because he said it smelled like you. A sob escaped your throat as you remembered how he'd wrap himself around you every night, one arm always protectively draped over your waist, his breath warm against your neck.

"I'm sorry," you whispered to the empty room, your voice breaking. "I'm so sorry." But the walls that had witnessed so many of your loving moments now only echoed back your solitary grief.

With trembling hands, you zipped up the last bag. The apartment looked wrong now - half-empty, just like your heart. You took one final look around, memories flooding your mind: the kitchen where you'd attempted to teach him to cook (and failed miserably), the living room where you'd slow-danced at midnight, the balcony where you'd planned your future together.

You decided to clean up one last time, starting with the kitchen. The dishes had piled up - he'd always been terrible at keeping up with them when stressed. Your hands moved mechanically through the motions of washing, drying, and putting away. Each clink of plates being stacked felt too loud in the empty space.

The bathroom was next. Glass fragments still littered the tiles, some pieces stained with what you knew must be his blood. Your hands shook as you swept them up, imagining his pain, his desperation. The mirror's absence left a gaping void on the wall, much like the one in your chest.

It was late evening by the time you finished. The apartment gleamed with a sterile emptiness that felt wrong - too clean, too neat, like trying to erase all traces of the mess you'd made of things. You were about to leave when you heard it - Yunho’s voice behind the door.

"Mingi, I know you said you'd pick me up, but I just couldn't stay there anymore," Yunho's muffled voice came through the door, followed by a frustrated sigh. "The nurses were driving me crazy with all their—why are you freaking out? What's wrong?"

Click.

Your heart stopped. You knew that sound, knew the slight hesitation that always came before he'd push the door open. The handle turned, and there he was.

Yunho stood frozen in the doorway, his bandaged hand still on the handle. He looked terrible - pale, with dark circles under his eyes that spoke of sleepless nights. The hospital bracelet was still around his wrist.

"I'm gonna call you back," Yunho said shakily into the phone, his eyes never leaving yours. His bandaged hand trembled as he ended the call, letting the phone drop to his side.

For a moment, neither of you moved. The air felt thick with all the things you wanted to say, all the apologies stuck in your throat. His eyes moved from you to the packed bags by the door, and then to the spotless apartment behind you.

"What are you doing here?" Yunho asked, his voice hoarse and tired.

"Mingi told me you'd be staying at his place, so I..." you started with a trembling voice, gesturing weakly at the packed bags. "I wanted to grab my things."

"I..." your voice cracked. "I was just leaving. I cleaned up... I thought..." The words died on your tongue as his gaze finally met yours. The pain in his eyes made you want to reach for him, but you knew you'd lost that right.

And then the tears came for what seemed to be the hundredth time today, hot and relentless, streaming down your face as you stood there, unable to look away from him. Your shoulders shook with silent sobs, each one carrying the weight of everything you'd lost, everything you'd broken.

"I'm sorry," you managed to whisper, though the words felt painfully inadequate in the face of his bandaged hands and haunted eyes. "I'm so, so sorry."

He moved then, crossing the space between you in two long strides. Before you could process what was happening, his arms were around you, pulling you against his chest with a gentleness that broke your heart all over again. You melted into his embrace, your tears soaking into his shirt as your fingers clutched desperately at the fabric.

"Shh," he whispered, his voice thick with emotion as he began to sway slightly, rocking you both from side to side in a gentle, soothing motion. The familiar rhythm only made you cry harder, remembering all the times he'd held you just like this – after bad days, during celebrations, or simply because he wanted to be close to you.

Your body felt impossibly small in his arms, defeated and drained. The guilt was crushing, made worse by the tenderness of his touch. Even now, even after everything you'd done, he was still trying to comfort you. His bandaged hand smoothed over your hair, and you could feel the slight tremor in his movements.

"I don't deserve this," you whispered against his chest, your voice breaking. "I don't deserve you being kind to me."

"Don't," he murmured, his grip tightening slightly. "Just... let me hold you. Please. Just for a moment."

The quiet desperation in his voice shattered what was left of your composure. You pressed closer, breathing in his scent, memorizing the feeling of being in his arms one last time. His heart beat steadily under your ear, a rhythm you'd fallen asleep to countless times before. Now each beat felt like a countdown to goodbye.

He continued to sway, the motion almost hypnotic, as if he could make time stand still if he just kept you both moving. His chin rested on top of your head, and you could feel the slight dampness of his own tears falling into your hair.

"I'm sorry," you whispered again, the words muffled against his chest. "I'm so sorry, it's all my fault."

His only response was to hold you tighter, his breathing uneven as he fought back his own emotions. The bandages on his hands scraped lightly against your back, a physical reminder of the pain you'd caused. Yet here he was, still trying to comfort you, still being the incredible person you'd fallen in love with – the person you'd hurt so deeply.

Time seemed to lose all meaning as you stood there in his arms, both of you silently crying, swaying together in the apartment that had once been your home.

"I love you," Yunho whispered against your hair, his voice barely audible. His lips pressed softly against the top of your head, the gesture achingly tender. The words hung in the air between you, making your heart constrict painfully in your chest. Those three words that had once been a promise of forever now felt like a farewell.

You felt him take a shuddering breath, his chest rising and falling against you. His fingers tightened in the fabric of your shirt for just a moment, as if fighting the urge to never let go. Then, slowly, deliberately, his arms loosened their hold. The loss of his warmth was immediate and devastating, leaving you feeling colder than you'd ever been.

"I love you too," you whispered back, your voice breaking on each word. The truth of it burned in your chest - you did love him, desperately, completely, even now.

Yunho's breath hitched, and you felt him stiffen slightly. His hands, which had been resting loosely at his sides, clenched into fists, the bandages crinkling with the movement. When he spoke, his voice was barely above a whisper, rough with emotion.

"All of it," he started, then had to pause, swallowing hard. "Everything we built, everything we dreamed about... it all just went to waste, didn't it?" The words seemed to physically pain him as they left his lips, each one carrying the weight of a thousand shattered promises.

You watched as he ran his bandaged hand through his hair, a gesture so achingly familiar it made your heart constrict. His eyes, when they met yours, were filled with a devastating mixture of love and resignation. "All those nights planning our future, all those promises we made... they just turned to dust. And the worst part?" He let out a broken laugh that sounded more like a sob. "The worst part is that I still wouldn't change a single moment of it. Not one second of loving you."

The silence that followed was deafening, filled with all the things you both wanted to say but couldn't. The space between you felt like an ocean now, vast and impossible to cross, even though you could still feel the ghost of his warmth on your skin.

"I love you," he said again, his voice cracking, "but I need you to leave now."

"Please," you choked out, reaching for him instinctively. "Please, Yunho, we can fix this. We can try again. I'll do anything—"

He took a step back, keeping himself just out of your reach. The movement, though small, felt like a physical blow. "Don't," he whispered, his bandaged hand coming up as if to shield himself. "It all went to waste the second you walked out that door. You made your choice."

"I was wrong," you pleaded, tears streaming down your face. "I was so wrong. Please, just give me one more chance—"

"Stop." His voice was firm now, despite the tears in his eyes. "You need to go. I can't... I can't do this. Not now. Not anymore."

Each word felt like a knife to your heart, but you could see the resolution in his eyes, even through his pain. This was it. This was really the end. Yunho turned away, his shoulders tense, but as your first sob broke through the silence, he froze. Your crying was raw and uncontrollable now, each breath coming as a painful gasp, your whole body shaking with the force of it. The sound seemed to fill every corner of the space, bouncing off the bare walls, making the emptiness feel even more profound.

"You know what?" Yunho suddenly spun around, his voice rising with a surge of anger that seemed to fill the entire room. His eyes, usually so warm and gentle, now blazed with an intensity that made you take a step back. "Fuck this! Fuck all of this! You don't get to stand there crying like you're the victim here, like you weren't the one who made this choice!"

"I'm not—" you started, your voice small and trembling, but he cut you off with a sharp gesture that made you flinch.

"You LEFT!" he shouted, "You walked out that fucking door without even looking back! Do you know what that did to me? Do you have any idea what it feels like to watch the person you love, the person you built your whole world around, just... just throw everything away like it meant nothing? Like every moment we shared was fucking worthless?"

"It meant EVERYTHING!" you screamed back, your own anger finally breaking through the surface like a dam bursting. Your hands were shaking as you gestured wildly between you. "That's why I left! I was terrified of how much I needed you, how much power you had over me! I couldn't breathe without thinking about you! Every moment of every day was consumed by thoughts of you, and it terrified me!"

"So you decided to stop breathing altogether?" His laugh was bitter and hollow, tears streaming down his face and catching on his trembling lips. "Great fucking solution! Really stellar thinking there!"

"I was scared!" Your voice cracked, splintering like glass. "I still am! I'm scared because I love you so much it hurts, and I don't know how to handle that! It's like drowning and flying all at once, and I'm terrified of what that means!"

"And I'm not scared?" He stepped closer, his eyes blazing with a mixture of fury and desperation. The space between you crackled with tension. "You think I'm not terrified every single day? But I stayed! I fought for us! I faced that fear head-on because what we had was worth fighting for! While you... you just ran. You took the easiest fucking way out and left me."

The silence that followed was deafening, and oppressive, both of you breathing heavily, tears mingling with anger and exhaustion. The air between you felt thick with unspoken words and shattered promises. When Yunho spoke again, his voice was softer, broken, like shards of glass wrapped in velvet.

"The worst part is..." he paused, running his bandaged hand through his hair in that achingly familiar gesture, "I still want to hold you. Even now, even after everything... even after you broke my heart into a thousand pieces, I still want to make it all better. How fucked up is that? How pathetic am I?"

You took a shaky step forward, your hands trembling like leaves in a storm. "Then do it," you challenged, "Hold me. Make it better. Because I'm not going to fucking pretend I don't want the same thing."

"Don't you dare," he growled, but he was already moving closer, his bandaged hands clenching and unclenching at his sides, betraying his internal struggle. "Don't you fucking dare make me want this when I should be hating you. When everything in me is screaming to push you away."

"But you don't hate me," you whispered, now close enough to feel his ragged breath fan across your face, to see the golden flecks in his tear-filled eyes. "You can't hate me any more than I can hate you."

"I fucking wish I could," he choked out, and then his hands were in your hair, fingers tangling in the strands as he pulled you roughly against him. His lips crashed into yours with the force of a breaking wave, the kiss desperate, angry, messy with tears and need. His bandaged fingers dug into your scalp as you grabbed fistfuls of his shirt, pulling him impossibly closer, trying to eliminate any space between your bodies.

"I hate that I still love you," he gasped against your mouth between brutal, punishing kisses that felt more like warfare than affection. "I hate that I can't stop, that I don't want to stop. That you have this power over me."

"Then don't stop," you breathed, tasting the salt of both your tears as he kissed you again, harder this time, backing you up against the wall with enough force to knock the breath from your lungs. His hands were rough against your skin as he yanked your shirt up, you helped him pull it off, then immediately went for his, desperate to feel his skin against yours. His chest was heaving, muscles taut with tension as your fingers traced over them.

"I shouldn't want this," he growled against your neck, biting down hard enough to make you gasp, to ensure you'd carry the mark of this moment for days to come. "I shouldn't still want you this much. It's destroying me."

"But you do," you challenged, your nails dragging down his back, "You want me as much as I want you. As much as we've always wanted each other."

He responded by lifting you up, pinning you harder against the wall, his strength both frightening and thrilling. Your legs wrapped around his waist instinctively, drawing a deep groan from him that vibrated against your collarbone. "You don't get to fucking tell me what I want," he said, but his hands were already working at your jeans, his movements frantic and needy, betraying his words.

"Then show me," you gasped as his fingers found bare skin, sending electricity coursing through your veins. "Show me what you want, Yunho. Make me understand." The sound of his name seemed to break something fundamental in him, some last barrier of resistance. He crushed his mouth to yours again, the kiss all teeth and tongue and desperate need. You could taste the anger on his lips, the hurt, and the want all mixed together into something explosive, dangerous, and necessary.

"I hate this," he panted between kisses that felt like drowning, even as his hands roamed your body with familiar hunger, mapping every curve and hollow. "I hate that no one else feels like you do. That no one else ever could."

"I know," you whispered, helping him take off your bra, both of you too far gone to care about anything but this moment, this need. "I know, I hate it too. I hate that you're the only one who makes me feel alive."

The wall was cold against your naked back, a sharp contrast to the burning heat of his skin. His bandaged hands gripped your thighs almost painfully tight as he pressed closer, leaving no space between your bodies, no room for doubt or regret.

"Tell me to stop," he demanded, his voice rough with need, with all the things left unsaid between you. "Tell me this is a mistake. Tell me we shouldn't be doing this."

Instead, you pulled him closer, your lips finding his ear, breath hot against his skin. "Never," you breathed, feeling him shudder against you, his control finally shattering completely. "I never want you to stop. Not now, not ever."

Your hands trembled as you unzipped his pants, feeling his hardness straining against the fabric. He let out a deep moan that sent shivers down your spine as you pulled his jeans down, your fingers ghosting over his thighs.

"Fuck, we can't be doing this," he said as his hands found the delicate lace of your panties, the last barrier between you. His fingers hooked into the waistband, pulling them down with agonizing slowness until they fell forgotten to the floor. His hands returned to grip your hips with bruising force, the roughness of the bandages a stark reminder of everything between you as he pressed you harder against the cold wall. His breath came in hot, ragged pants against your neck. You were both trembling, poised on the edge of something dangerous and inevitable. The tension between you was electric, charged with equal parts anger and desire. When he finally moved, it was with a force that made you cry out, your nails digging crescents into his shoulders as he buried himself inside you in one swift, brutal motion.

"You shouldn't have fucking left," he growled between harsh, desperate thrusts, each word punctuated by the raw sound of skin against skin, his voice thick with anger and longing. "You had no right to just walk away like everything we built meant nothing."

"And you had no right to give up on us so easily," you shot back, your voice breaking into a breathless moan as he hit a particularly sensitive spot that made stars explode behind your eyes. Your fingers tangled roughly in his hair, pulling hard enough to make him hiss through clenched teeth. "You could have fought harder, could have shown me it was worth staying for."

"Fought harder?" His laugh was bitter and hollow as his pace increased to something almost punishing, "You're the one who ran away the moment things got too real!"

"Because you were suffocating me," you gasped, arching against him as pleasure and pain mingled indistinguishably in your veins like a drug. "You wanted to have all of me, every single piece of my soul until I couldn't even tell where I ended and you began."

"And you didn't want exactly the same thing?" His hand gripped your jaw with bruising intensity, forcing you to look directly into his eyes that burned with raw emotion as he continued his relentless rhythm. "Don't you dare lie to me. Not now. Not when I can feel how desperately you need this, need me."

You tried to shake your head, but his grip only tightened, his thumb pressing against your lower lip as tears spilled down your cheeks. "I wanted everything with you," you admitted, your voice breaking.

"And I wanted to give you everything," he snarled, his hips snapping against yours with bruising force. "Every fucking piece of me was yours, and you threw it away like it meant nothing!"

Your response was cut off by a particularly deep thrust that had you seeing stars, your nails raking down his sweat-slicked back hard enough to leave marks. "Fuck, Yunho," you gasped, your head falling back against the wall with a thud.

"Say it again," he demanded, his voice rough and raw as he bit down hard on your shoulder. "Say my fucking name like you mean it."

"Yunho," you moaned, tugging sharply at his hair, forcing his head back so you could crash your lips against his in a kiss that was more teeth than tenderness. The metallic taste of blood mingled between you as his lip split under the force of your bite.

"I fucking hate how much I still want you," he growled against your mouth, his pace becoming erratic, desperate. His bandaged hands gripped your thighs so hard you knew they'd leave bruises, marking you as his even now. "How much I still need you, even after everything."

You could feel yourself approaching the edge, every nerve ending on fire as he drove into you relentlessly. "Then make me feel it," you challenged, your voice breaking on his hard, sharp thrust. "Make me remember why I was so fucking scared of how much I loved you."

He responded by shifting his angle, hitting that spot inside you that made your vision blur, "Is this what you wanted?" he panted, sweat dripping from his forehead onto your chest. "To reduce us to this? Just fucking against a wall like we're nothing more than this?"

"We were never nothing," you gasped, feeling the tension building to an unbearable level. "We were everything - fuck, Yunho, I'm so close..."

"Then come for me," he demanded, his voice wrecked and desperate. "Show me how much you fucking need this. Need me." His words pushed you over the edge, your body arching off the wall as waves of your orgasm crashed through you, his name a broken cry on your lips. He followed moments later, his grip bruising as he buried his face in your neck, his whole body shuddering with the force of his release. For a long moment, there was nothing but the sound of your ragged breathing and the thundering of your hearts, the anger between you temporarily drowned.

Slowly, you both slid to the floor, limbs still tangled together, neither wanting to be the first to let go. The wall was cold against your back, but his body was warm, his breath evening out against your skin.

The silence shattered as suddenly as it had descended. "This was a fucking mistake," Yunho spat, pushing away from you with such force that you nearly fell over. "Just like everything else between us."

"A mistake?" You laughed bitterly, scrambling to your feet. "That's rich coming from you. You weren't calling it a mistake when you were fucking me against the wall two minutes ago."

"You know what the worst part is?" you said, voice cracking as you stood there half-dressed and trembling. "I still love you. Even now, even after everything, I love you so much it's killing me."

"Don't," Yunho warned, but his voice was unsteady. "Don't you dare say that now."

"Why not? Because it's true?" You took a step toward him, watching his chest rise and fall with rapid breaths. "Because you feel it too? This thing between us that won't die no matter how hard we try to kill it?"

"Love doesn't destroy people like this. Love doesn't leave you bleeding out on your bathroom floor at 3 AM because you can't stand the silence anymore."

"Oh, but that's exactly what it does when it's real," you whispered, reaching out to touch his face. He jerked away like your touch burned. "When it's so deep it becomes part of your DNA. When losing it feels like losing a vital organ."

His eyes were glassy with unshed tears as he grabbed your wrist, his grip painfully tight. "Then maybe we were wrong to ever let it get this far. Maybe we should have known better than to let ourselves become this—this fucking catastrophe." His voice cracked as he raised his bandaged hands, forcing you to see them clearly. "Look at this. Look what you did to me! I've been miserable since the day you left." He yanked a cigarette from his pocket, lighting it with trembling fingers.

"Put that out," you snapped, watching him take a long drag. "When did you start smoking again?"

Yunho deliberately blew a cloud of smoke directly into your face, making you cough. "I started again the night you left. Needed something to fill the void you left behind."

"Don't you dare blame your self-destructive habits on me," you snarled, waving away the smoke. "Those bandages? That's all you. The smoking? That's you too. Stop making me your fucking scapegoat!"

"Self-destructive?" He took another drag, eyes never leaving yours. "You want to talk about destruction? You destroyed everything we built. These hands? They haven't stopped shaking since you walked out that door. I can barely hold my fucking keys without trembling. But you don't care about that, do you? You never cared about anything but yourself."

"You really want to do this?" you asked, voice trembling with barely contained rage. "Fine. Do you want to know what I care about? I care that you're destroying yourself and blaming me for it. I care that you're using me as an excuse to spiral instead of dealing with your own issues."

"Get out," he growled, voice dangerously low.

"Are you sure?" you taunted, your voice dripping with venom. "Once I leave, who will you fuck against the wall again?"

"Don't you even dare throw this in my face now!" Yunho screamed. The veins in his neck stood out prominently as he advanced toward you, trembling with barely contained fury. "Get the fuck out before I say something we'll both regret.”

"More regrets?" You laughed hysterically as you yanked your shirt over your head. "Add it to the fucking list, Yunho. Right next to ever believing we could make this work!"

"You want to talk about beliefs?" He advanced on you, cigarette dangling from his lips, eyes wild. "I believed every fucking promise you made. Every 'I love you,' every 'forever.' What a goddamn joke. You're nothing but a coward who runs the moment things get real."

"And you're nothing but a controlling asshole who can't handle not having everything your way!" You struggled with your jeans, hands shaking with rage. "You say I run? You pushed me away long before I ever left!"

"Get. The. Fuck. Out." Each word was punctuated by him throwing something - your shoes, your jacket, your keys. "I'm done with your bullshit excuses. I'm done with your lies. I'm done with YOU."

"Fuck you, Yunho," you spat, gathering your remaining belongings, dodging the cloud of smoke he blew in your direction. "Fuck you and your self-righteous bullshit. You want me gone? Fine. But remember - you're the one kicking me out this time. You don't get to play the victim anymore." With trembling hands, you picked up your bags. Your feet felt heavy as lead as you walked towards the door, each step taking you further away from the life you'd built together.

His laugh was ugly, and bitter as he stubbed out the cigarette against the wall. "The victim? That's rich coming from someone who's made an art form out of playing the martyr. Go on, run away again. It's what you're best at, isn't it?"

"DON'T SAY I'M RUNNING AWAY WHEN IT'S YOU THROWING ME OUT!" you screamed, your voice cracking with raw emotion. "You don't get to rewrite this narrative. You're the one telling me to leave, you're the one pushing me away, and you have the audacity to call ME a coward?"

His eyes flashed dangerously as he stalked towards you, closing the distance between you in three long strides. His hand shot out, fingers gripping your chin roughly as he forced you to meet his blazing gaze. "A coward? No, sweetheart, a coward wouldn't have the guts to destroy someone so thoroughly and then act like they're the victim. You're something much worse - you're a fucking hurricane that leaves nothing but devastation in your wake."

You ripped your chin from his grasp, stumbling backward. "Then I guess we're both disasters," you hissed, tears finally spilling over. "Because you're not exactly leaving survivors in your path either."

The silence between you stretched taut, electric with accusations and raw pain. Your hand found the doorknob, gripping it like a lifeline as you fought the urge to turn back, to see if his expression matched the brokenness in his voice. But you knew better - one look back and you might crumble, might forget all the reasons why this toxic dance needed to end.

"You know what?" Your voice came out steadier than you felt, even as your heart threatened to shatter into a million jagged pieces in your chest, each shard cutting deeper than the last. "You were right about one thing. This was a mistake. All of it. Every stolen moment, every whispered promise. But at least I can admit my mistakes instead of drowning them in nicotine and self-pity like you've been doing."

"And what about you?" he shot back, voice raw and bleeding with emotion. "Drowning yourself in righteous anger and pretending you're better than me because you can 'admit your mistakes'? At least I'm honest about my demons."

"At least I'm trying!" Your voice cracked like thin ice, hands trembling violently as you gripped the doorknob tighter, knuckles turning white from the force. "At least I'm not standing here pretending that smoking and fucking will somehow magically fix what’s broken!"

"Nothing can fix what's broken between us," he said, suddenly sounding exhausted, like all the fight had drained from his body at once. "We made sure of that, didn't we?"

You turned to face him one last time, your vision swimming with unshed tears that refused to fall. "How did we get here, Yunho? How did we go from 'forever' to this?"

"I don't know," he whispered, running a shaking hand through his disheveled hair, eyes haunted with memories of better days. "I don't fucking know anymore. All I know is that I can't breathe when you're here, and I can't breathe when you're gone."

"Then maybe we're just poison to each other now." Your hand remained frozen on the door handle, caught between staying and leaving, between love and self-preservation. "Maybe we loved too hard, too fast, and burned ourselves out."

"Love?" He laughed bitterly, lighting another cigarette with trembling fingers, "Is that what you call this endless cycle of hurting each other?"

"You know it is," you said softly, your words barely a whisper in the heavy air between you. "That's why it hurts so much. Because underneath all this anger, all this pain, all these scars we've carved into each other... I still love you. And I hate myself for it. I hate that even now, standing in the wreckage of us, my heart still beats your name."

He took a long, deliberate drag, the ember of his cigarette glowing brightly. "Just go," he said finally, his voice thick with emotions he couldn't quite suppress. "Before we destroy whatever's left of each other."

This time, you didn't argue. You pulled the door open with shaking hands, the cold air hitting your tear-stained face. "Goodbye, Yunho," you whispered, the words tasting like farewell and forever on your tongue as you stepped out into the hallway.

Behind you, you heard a muffled thud - the sound of him sliding down against the door, followed by a quiet, broken sob. Your legs gave out, and you collapsed against the wall, your bags scattered around you like the pieces of your shattered relationship. You wanted to scream, to run back, to break down that door and hold him until all the pain went away. But you couldn't move, couldn't breathe, couldn't do anything but press your hand against your mouth to muffle the sound of your own cry.

Through the door, you could hear him crying, the sound growing more desperate, more raw. The thud of his fist against the floor, followed by a choked "Why?" that felt like it was being ripped from his very soul. You'd never heard him sound so destroyed, so utterly broken, and knowing you were the cause made you physically sick.

You don't know how long you both stayed there, separated by nothing but a door, both falling apart in perfect, painful synchronicity. When his sobs finally quieted, the silence that followed was somehow even worse - empty, final, dead.

Eventually, you forced yourself to stand on shaking legs, gathering your scattered belongings. Each step away from his door felt like walking on broken glass, leaving a trail of invisible blood and regret.

The elevator ride down was a blur, each floor taking you further from the life you'd shared. As you stepped out into the cold night air the city lights blurred through your tears, a kaleidoscope of colors that seemed to mock the darkness consuming your heart.

♡│if you enjoy my writing please consider supporting me by tagging and reblogging│

[joelmillerisapunk]

Wip Wednesday!

Tysm for the tags @sawymredfox @thundermartini & @almostfoxglove 💖

I have three snippets this week! And Howdy Honey is on its way veryyyy soon!

-> first is for @jolapeno 's dear-uary challenge

The screen lit up, and there it was—a new message.

Every morning, like clockwork, one of you would send a song with a time stamp—each track chosen so deliberately. Some days, it was your favorite love songs, sappy and sweet, reminding the other how much you cared. Other times, it was to lift each other up, a little nudge of hope when the world felt too heavy. And then there were the ones that said all the things neither of you could say out loud.

You: I’ll send you one tomorrow.

———

You: 3:01 - Exile by Taylor Swift.

His heart kicked up as he clicked the link and let the song play, skipping to the time stamp. The haunting melody filled the room, and when the lyrics hit, he froze.

“I think I’ve seen this film before, and I didn’t like the ending.”

Joel leaned back against the headboard, staring at the phone in his hand. The words hit harder than he’d expected—bitterness woven into a truth he couldn’t deny. But beneath the sting, there was something else.

You’d sent him a song. After all this time, after everything that had passed between you, you’d listened, and you’d answered. It wasn’t an olive branch, not exactly, but it was a thread. A connection. A chance.

-> next is for @almostfoxglove 's let's get angsty challenge

You laughed bitterly, shaking your head. “Protect me? You can’t even protect yourself, Acacius.”

His grip loosened, and his hands fell to his sides. The silence that followed was deafening, and you felt the weight of it pressing down on your chest.

“I love you,” he said suddenly, the words so soft you almost didn’t hear them.

Your breath hitched, and you felt the tears prick at the corners of your eyes. “Then fight for me,” you said, your voice trembling. “Don’t let this be all we are.”

For a moment, you thought he might say yes. His eyes searched yours, his jaw clenching as if he were trying to find the strength to give you what you wanted. But then his shoulders sagged, and he looked away.

“I can’t,” he said, the words barely audible. “I can’t.”

-> last is for a mini 3 part series called hold the line. A long weekend family vacation with dbf!joel

Joel leaned closer, his elbow propped casually on the tile, his intent was anything but. His eyes locked onto yours, dark and steady, the kind of look that made your breath catch. It was as if the rest of the world had fallen away, leaving just the two of you caught in the glow of the moment, the tension between you taut and undeniable.

"You’re trouble, y’know that?” Joel murmured, like a quiet confession.

You tilted your head, feigning innocence, though your pulse betrayed you. “And you’re staring.”

“Maybe I am,” he said, his tone unapologetic, the faintest smirk tugging at his lips.

Your breath caught as his gaze flickered downward, lingering on your lips with an intensity that made your skin hum. The music shifted to a slower, softer tune that was spilling from the speakers, wrapping around the two of you.

You weren’t sure who moved first, but the space between you shrank until you could feel the heat of his breath against your skin, warm and laced with whiskey, and for a moment, the world seemed to tilt. Your eyes fluttered closed, your heart pounding in your chest as you leaned closer.

“Hey! There y’all are!” Tommy’s voice rang out, cutting through the moment like a knife.

Npt: @evolnoomym @milla-frenchy @aurorawritestoescape @arcanefox207 @gothcsz

@itwasntimethatdidit40 @ace-turned-confused @slimybeth69

@toxicanonymity @probablyreadinsmut @morallyinept

[canary3d-obsessed]

Restless Rewatch: The Untamed, Episode 38 part one

(Masterpost) (Pinboard)  (whole thing on AO3)  

Warning! Spoilers for All 50 Episodes!  

OK But Why?

This tale-within-a-tale is excruciating, yeah? So let's start off by considering why it even exists. Yi City feels like, if not a fully separate story, a pretty complete arc that can play as its own little movie. And it's incredibly sad, in every direction. While it may have begun life, in its originally-written form, as a different story exploring some of the same themes, MXTX placed it in the novel deliberately, and the producers of CQL included it deliberately. Why? Other than the, you know, catharsis of a well-wrought tragedy?

I think the answer is that it tells a set of parallel stories, alternate versions of the stories our main characters inhabit, with different outcomes driven by the character's choices. There's an obvious parallel between Lan Wangji's grief and Song Lan's, and another clear one between Wei Wuxian's core donation and Xiao Xingchen's eyeball donation. 

And there's an important comparison to be made between Xue Yang and Wei Wuxian, two demonic cultivators. They share some formative experiences, but have followed radically different paths, shaped, at a key moment, by another person's choice. 

Overall, the Yi City story illustrates how choices made in a moment affect not just an individual life, but ripple outward into other lives. So be prepared for me to point out parallels even more than usual, as we go through these episodes.

Empathy

We start off learning about Empathy and how it’s sooper dangerous, which means of course Wei Wuxian is totally down for it and probably invented it.  He gathers the kids around and assigns Jin Ling to be the person in charge of supervising and deciding when to pull him out of the matrix link. 

Jin Ling is surprised and reluctant so teacher’s pet Sizhui jumps forward and volunteers. 

Wei Wuxian asks Jin Ling for his Jiang clarity bell, which is on a tassel that used to be Jiang Yanli’s. 

(more behind the cut!)

Once the bell/tassel is out of Jin Ling’s hand, however, he changes his mind and snatches it, and the responsibility, back. 

It seems like Sizhui might recognize this tassel? 

It’s like the one Jiang Yanli gave Wei Wuxian when they met up before her wedding, which means Wei Wuxian would have had it with him during their year in the burial mounds. 

Jingyi disapproves of Jin Ling’s mind-changing, which is a little unfair since JL didn’t actually say “no” prior to Sizhui putting in his oar. (Sizhui is entirely loveable, but he is also a pushy brown-noser just like Lan Wangji was at his age. He just does it so sweetly that nobody minds.)

Sizhui, also like his Lan dad, has made it his life’s mission to manage a loudmouth hothead’s temper for him. 

Heading into empathy with A-Qing, we get flashes of bits of the story that we're about to see in depth. Then we jump to "ten years ago" which, given the way this series does math, probably means seven years ago.

Side note: A-Qing has managed to keep her hair looking pretty cute despite being 90% dead. 

Splish Splash

This particular section of the Wuxia River of Sadness is reserved for people who are contemplating the total mess they have made of their lives (gifset here), but A-Qing didn't get that memo, so she's having a nice time splashing joyfully without a care in the world.

A-Qing isn't about drama or being depressed, even when things are pretty difficult. She has found a big rock to sit on and is having a nice day hanging out on it.  

Then she goes skipping along singing "la la la la" (which is the same sound in Chinese as we make in English when we're singing and don't know the words, incidentally). Ok, show, we get it, she's happy and carefree. I sure hope she doesn't get involved in any weird relationships.

Grifting

She sees a couple of women walking on the path and she starts pretending to be blind. In the book, this pretense was facilitated by her having completely white eyes, but in the show she has normal brown eyes, until she actually is blinded by Xue Yang. So her entire pretense of being blind is to unfocus her eyes a bit and wave her hands around...

...with frequent intervals where she thinks no-one is watching her, and she acts 100% like she can see. Somehow she is almost never busted for this. 

The ladies give her a steamed bun and whisper loudly to each other about how pitiful she is. 

Then she heads into town for a little grifting, picking a wealthy douchebag as a mark. She bumps into him and steals his money bag, which he doesn't notice because he's too busy creeping on her. 

She's annoyed and disappointed that he doesn't have a lot of money.

Hey Pretty, Don’t You Want To Take a Ride With Me

Next she bumps into (and robs) Xiao Xingchen, who is actually blind, so he doesn’t notice her noticing how extremely pretty he is. 

He does notice that she has robbed him, however. 

Did you know if you have your eyes removed or even just damaged so you can't see any more, your eye sockets and/or tear ducts will bleed pretty much forever? Yeah, me neither. 

Xiao Xingchen immediately takes charge of A-Qing, telling her to walk more slowly and then telling her - kindly - to return his money purse. Before she can answer him, the rich douchebag comes back to yell at her and try to hit her. Xiao Xingchen stops him and smooths over the situation, and then lectures Ah Qing about stealing and how it's bad. But he tells her to keep his money, so - mixed messages, bro. 

She calls him gege and says that since he's blind and she's blind, she's going to follow him forever. He’s like, okey dokey, and they walk off together. Is she really the first person (since Song Lan) who’s had this idea about him? He is *very* pretty, after all.

It's unclear to me if she's calling him gege in the sense of “orphan girl who wants a family,” or in the sense of “mostly-grown-up woman who would like to Hit That.” Xiao Xingchen appears to take it as the former; he is too gay virtuous for the other option.

Two seconds after they decide to stay together, they encounter Xue Yang lying injured by the side of the road. A-Qing pretends she didn’t see him, and almost successfully wangles a piggyback ride out of Xiao Xingchen. 

But then he hears Xue Yang and immediately decides to rescue him, like the do-gooder Xue Yang despises him for being.

Xue Yang gets the romance-tropey piggyback ride that A-Qing was hoping for. Girl, the time to stop trying to seduce your gay male friend is 5 minutes before you started, ok?  

So...why was Xue Yang lying by the side of the road with a stab wound? Who gave it to him? If Jin Guangyao was sick of him, he would have stabbed him 100% fatally, and he wouldn't have let him hang on to Tiger Seal 2.0. And presumably Xue Yang wouldn’t think of him as a friend any more. It’s a mystery.

The new throuple decide to go to the creepiest abandoned walled city that has ever existed, and head past all the regular houses to set up camp in the morgue, for some reason. Not even inside one of the buildings; just out in the courtyard with a bunch of possibly-occupied coffins. Xiao Xingchen is so fucking weird. 

Each Unhappy Family is Unhappy in its Own Way

Xiao Xingchen gets to work patching Xue Yang up, and Xue Yang wakes up and recognizes him. A-Qing explains that they are blind and tells him not to be rude about it.

Xue Yang takes a second to process the situation, and then decided he’s going to hide his identity and make nice with Xiao Xingchen. Proving that found family can also have hideous toxic dynamics.

Xue Yang is very careful to keep XXC from touching his hand, since that would give away his identity. He has a...prosthetic finger? He wears a black glove and keeps his pinky finger straight so we know it's a replacement, or injured, or something. 

I think this is a concession to Wang Haoxuan having ten functional fingers and the show having a limited CGI budget. In a real sword-based society, missing a finger is probably not particularly uncommon, and he would probably just rock the nine-fingered look without having a special glove.

At this point, the complex interactions of the trio get rolling. Xiao Xingchen is honestly kind, Xue Yang is fake-kind, A-Qing is fake-unaware with Xue Yang and is unable to make Xiao Xingchen understand the problem, and Xiao Xingchen is genuinely unaware of everything. 

We spend a fairly large amount of time with Xue Yang and Xiao Xingchen playing happy families. As part of his false persona, Xue Yang adopts a coy and whiny tone when talking to his pet white-clad cultivator, remarkably like another demonic cultivator we know.

I’m pretty sure Wei Wuxian has never managed to cop a feel while his sweetie climbs up a ladder, however. 

Then again, neither Lan Wangji nor Wei Wuxian has ever needed a ladder to get onto a roof, so maybe it’s just a lack of opportunity. 

This relationship, on the surface, is cute and sweet, which just makes the reality of it more disturbing. It’s super uncomfortable to watch, but there’s more than manipulation happening in these interactions. As Xue Yang flits around doing domestic tasks like patching the roof of the crappy outdoor shelter that they absolutely do not need to be using, he tells Xiao Xingchen various true things about his early life, and we begin to see what shaped him. 

Xue Yang (like OP) is obsessed with candy. In Xue Yang’s case, he was a hungry street kid who loved candy but couldn’t usually have it because of poverty. We learn that he has skills in patching up inadequate housing because he did it growing up. 

And we learn that he was beaten a lot. 

So he and Wei Wuxian have these things in common - except now Wei Wuxian gets his sugar from alcohol, not from candy. And Wei Wuxian’s handyman skills are used to make a home for his former enemies in the burial grounds, while Xue Yang’s are used - also in a cemetery, of sorts - to manipulate and trap his enemy. 

I Want Candy

In classic predator form, Xue Yang uses candy to lure A-Qing into coming within stabbing range, because he thinks she’s faking her blindness and wants to test her.  

I find him super attractive right here in spite of his evilness. I’m pretty sure it’s because he’s offering candy. (OP goes and gets a jolly rancher out of her purse). 

After calling her over, he draws his sword with a super-loud "sshshk" noise that she inexplicably doesn't notice, and she bravely walks up to, and nearly on to, the point of the sword. 

This shocks him and convinces him that she's really blind. He sits her down with apparently sincere gentleness, and gives her candy, while quizzing her about her hot gege.

A-Qing tries to warn Xiao Xingchen about Xue Yang being a bad guy, pointing out that he's a cultivator and won't tell them his name. (She can’t say “also he tried to stab me” because she’d have to come clean about being able to see.) Xiao Xingchen, because he is a condescending prick--albeit a very sweet one--pats her on the fucking head and laughs off her extremely useful warning. 

Xiao Xingchen came out into the wider world with a set of ideals that he lives by, apparently without examining them. He’s humble, kind, frugal, and wants to eradicate evil. He also believes that the majority of people are good like him, and that detecting evil is simple--as simple as following his sword toward it. He doesn’t allow A-Qing, who is experienced in the wider world, to teach him anything, preferring to keep his ideals untarnished.

Contrast this with Lan Wangji, who also starts his journey into the wider world with a set of ideals (codified as rules), but does not make the mistake of assuming that other people shares his beliefs. Once he’s away from the Cloud Recesses, he follows Wei Wuxian’s lead when dealing with new people, rather than insisting on doing things the way he did back home. In general, he is open to having his beliefs challenged, even when it makes him upset or uncomfortable. As a result, he grows into a righteous man, not a naïve one, and he’s fully capable of identifying enemies even when they appear to be friends.

Bonus: 

In this brief long-distance shot we learn that A-Qing sleeps in a coffin, which is some next level goth girl shit. 

Soundtrack: 1. Hey Pretty by Poe 2. I Want Candy by Bow Wow Wow 3. Cheap Thrills by Sia

[maiverie]

hello <3 i finally started reading triage and i laughed too hard reading the first chap :'D i loved the chemistry jokes sm (im still finding a time to read the rest but unfortunately it's almost time for school again) you're actually my fav author here in blr !!! your writing is just so well-written and that might be an understatement bcs it's just so good ??? i think no simple words can explain how amazing of an author you are <3 like the way you deliver the words and how you let readers imagine the little scenarios you make like it's so cool <3

(sorry if this is too long but) i also came here to ask you for advice hehe. im kind of a newbie here in blr and im currently working on my upcoming series.. and im unsatisfied with my progress and found myself deleting my drafts (for abt two times already ??) and i want to know how to be more confident in my writings and how not to overthink too much yk ?? would really love to hear your thoughts on this. you're not only a good author but a good advisor too !!! thank u sm <33

hi lexine (nice to meet u !!), stopppp YOU ARE TOOOO nice thank you sooo much for taking the time out to write this??? 😭💖 firstly, thank you for reading triage and plsss nawt the bitchless chemistry jokes 😭 kidding I also giggled while writing those parts smh

and secondly, ur fav author??? STOP LYINGGG i consider that such a high honour so thank you so much 🥹💞 to have your support is one thing and to read such positive words is another, so again thank you for taking the time out of your day to leave this message because it just made my day :(

aaa please don't apologise because I love long asks the most, and yes ofc my asks are always open! I have a tendency to ramble so beware a long message is below the cut — nevertheless I really hope this helps! 🥹💞

I firstly just want to preface that I obviously do not know everything about writing and this is all truly just one opinion, so only take what resonates 🫶

I can only really speak from personal experience, but I think it's actually a really good thing that you're going back to your drafts, revising your writing, which may or may not include the process of deleting/restarting things. obviously it's a really gruelling experience to go through (bc there's nothing worse than deleting all ur hard work), but I think it's really admirable that you're thinking about your writing and putting in the effort to make it better with each draft !! personally, I am constantly writing and re-writing my drafts and as much as it literally HURTS MY SOUL to delete words/paragraphs/sometimes entire chapters, I genuinely enjoy this process — to me, that's what writing is kind of all about? I know to most people ff is really not that deep (they're not wrong, it doesn't have to be) but I think the fact you're practising deliberation, reflection and thought in your writing, word choice, characters, plot etc. etc. is really really amazing !!

personally, I would say the thing to keep in mind is that everything needs to be in moderation — I've had chapters that have literally taken me a fuckload of re-writes (I'm a big overthinker / slight perfectionist), and while I did initially enjoy the whole process of editing / re-writing / discovering how to change certain scenes etc, it was really really mentally draining and I ended up losing passion for the story in the end. just be careful that this might happen to you? to avoid this, maybe every time you've reached a block (where no matter how much you re-write something, you always seem to hate how it turns out) you should try find a different source of inspiration — whether that means thinking about your story/characters with a different song playing, or moving wherever you tend to write, or having someone brainstorm ideas with you / beta-read your fic, or take a few days off !!

out of curiosity, what don't you like about your first drafts? is it the writing or the pacing or the characters? or is it something you can't quite put a finger on? let me know and we can try think about it together !!! im also the biggest overthinker when it comes to writing (💀) but what kind of comforts me and brings my feet back to the ground is reminding myself that 1) my fics are for MYSELF (i.e. you should be writing things you would want to read yourself, not what others might want to read - bc once you make it all about other people, that's when you really start to overthink) and 2) if im gna be fr, 90% of people on tumblr, especially enhablr, only really care about ff bc they want to read about their bias (if they wanted to read well-written literature, they would probably read a published book or smth yk). in saying that, it's totally okay for your fics to be imperfect (who cares! it's fanfiction!). I think just reminding yourself that ff is just a silly little thing u do in ur spare time (for which has 0 tie to your self-value) will keep you from overthinking things and raging when things get really hard !! when it comes to confidence, I think that comes gradually in small doses (the more you write, the more confident you become in your personal style / writing likes and dislikes), but maybe some ways to feel more confident is by getting a beta reader that you trust (and will give you effective advice — one that doesn't just shower you with compliments but can give you constructive criticism in a nice way), by reading other people's work (just to see if you're on the right track; if you read other people who have written similar tropes to you, it might make you feel less scared / in the dark bc you can see how they've executed it), or by changing the font on your google doc(?) to try reset your brain and re-read your work with fresh eyes.

I hope hope hope this helped in some way, please don't hesitate to reach out again if anything needs clarification or if I didn't quite answer your question (I'm sorry if I didn't 😭) !! <333 you're welcome anytime around here hehe so best of luck with ur series AND WELCOME TO BLRRRR <3333 it sounds like you're on the right track w ur writing if you're being conscious of all these things so I wouldn't fret at all!!! <33

if it helps, I've written other writing tips here, here and here! 🫶

[strifesolution]

The last chapter was so good!! And since you were talking about the fic's details, I was wondering about the playlist (I am listening to the main one on a daily basis) and I imagine that every songs were carefully chosen. I can guess what some songs mean about 5r6c. Like, From Eden is probably about Eden and Callie. You also mentioned that Genghis Khan is Dan and Wilbur's song.

Would you mind explaining how did you choose these songs and how some of them are related to the fic ?

(If this is too bothersome or would spoil too much of the fic, feel free to ignore the question)

LET’S GOOOO we’re so happy you like the playlist :D you’d be correct, most of the songs are chosen pretty deliberately, though a handful are more just there for the “vibe” of the AU rather than specific lyrics.

Link for anyone who hasn’t seen it; we update pretty often! I added Flu Game last night actually. Expect... a lot of art for this AU with the new Fall Out Boy songs LOL

Since there’s… a lot of songs, and a good amount of them would be kinda spoilery, we’ve both chosen one of our favs and wrote up a little analysis.

Here’s Van’s (@irished-lads) of Neon Moon by Brooks and Dun copied straight from our DM’s

~~~

fun fact, this is one of the songs i listened to on repeat while writing the earlier chapters. this is the ideal chapter 16 song in terms of story and vibe, and while an early 90's country song may have not intended to talk abt the intricacies of gay cowboy polyamory, I Sure Can Make It Do That.

peep the beginning;

There's a rundown bar 'cross the railroad track / I got a table for two way in the back / Where I sit alone, and think of losing you

thinks about kevin and sean having their degrees of feeling alone at this point. sean's always had a little bit of a thing for dan (not to mention kevin flirting with sean nigh all the time- note that kevin's only had to pay for one drink), and while kevin may be. erm. Physically Intimate (this is a pg-13 blog) with dan,he also wants more. its that disconnect that him and dan has that feels a mile long. Now. see the chorus:

Now if you lose your one and only, / There's always room here for the lonely

well hey. look at that. some of the loneliest guys in aurora sitting next to each other in a bar sharing a bottle of whiskey. they're friends, sure, but in that moment (ch 16), they recognize that they both can be more than that. to each other, and to dan. theres always room here for the lonely.

~~~~

And here’s mine (Emma here!) of STRIKE 3 by Ferry

This song is where the lyric in the fic's description comes from; it’s one from the PMV series Parties Are For Losers. You don’t need to watch the series to get the gist of the song (it is really good though!) but within the context of the narrative, the singer is voicing their frustrations as they desperately try to help those they care about who keep putting themselves in harms way. “You spin the barrel of a fully loaded gun” is just a fancy way of saying “STOP BEING RECKLESS!!!” because, y’know, it’d be a literal death sentence to play roulette if the gun is fully loaded...

In terms of 5r6c… well, one of the fics' central themes IS protecting the people you love. Dan continuously worries about what life Daithi and Brian had before this that made them criminals, and Sean and Kevin are protective of Dan, thinking Daithi and Brian are dangerous in arc 1, and suspicious of Spiff in arc 2. Here’s a bit from the first chorus…

"If there's no winning, might as well just have some fun." I want to scream, when will you get it through your skull that I will not let you drown? "The light is gone, the thought keeps running through your mind, but fearing life is easier than fighting, right?" Oh please, just hide behind this back of mine and save your helpless spite.

Which is peak sheriff’s office argument back in chapter 7...

I also really like the first verse relating to Daithi and Brian in the gang.

Channeling love through the fear of being torn apart by crowds of your barbarian peers. The human filth around us wants to trample all that is dear under the guise of watchful reason.

We learn from…pretty much every time one of them brings up Evan that it is NOT a very happy place to be, particularly in Brian’s POV of chapter 9.

Lastly, we have the pre-chorus.

A thousand years ago, it was a tepid autumn day. A lock has sealed this door— But no more.

If you recall in chapter 16, we learn the raid on the farm where Dan’s family died was in the fall (not directly, Dan always visits the bar on the anniversary and Sean makes the connection himself…but anyway)

...this is because ding ding ding of this song!

Unfortunately I can’t really talk about the last chorus and outro without SPOILING EVERYTHING so you’ll just have to guess from there ;>

~~~

Hopefully that's some food for thought! Honestly we COULD go over every song on the playlist but then this ask would be WAY too long. Just really quick: Hell's Comin' With Me is a HUUUUGE full story song but I really can’t say who it's about without giving away everything, Ambrosia Wine is the Kiwo/Mango dynamic, and Devil's Train (not on Spotify but would be on the playlist if it was) is gonna fit really well for the next few chapters!

[misslyzz]

Snake Song - Chapter 1: Moments

~Paring: Draco Malfoy x Original Female Character

~Description: Enemies to lovers, slow burn, Cannon divergence

~Word count: 4.3k

~Author Note: This will be a part one of a six part series, telling the story of exactly how Cordelia managed to land herself in a ministry cell. I've tried to stay as accurate to the books as I possibly can (minus the part that will diverge from cannon). Only two chapters are up right now, but I will be posting once a week. Again a huge thanks to my betas Cam and Bethany.

~Content disclaimer: Controlling parents, parental neglect

Cordelia Prince of the noble house of Prince just wanted to have a normal school year after a summer of her pure-blood mother tormenting her with “finishing lessons.” However, between a certain blonde haired menace and someone hunting down muggle-born students, it seems like that dream was dead in the water. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Jealous Malfoy? Today isn’t the first time you’ve missed something right under your nose.” She gasped suddenly pointing behind his head. He turned in confusion. “Sorry, thought it was a snitch, I wouldn't want you to miss another one.” She snickered, as did a few other nearby students. 

The tips of Malfoy’s ears turned red and he whipped back around to her. “Everyone knows Potter only made the team because he’s famous,” he sneered back.

“That’s rich coming from someone who’s daddy bought their way onto the team with new brooms.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I grew up with a lot of green

Nice things 'round me

I was safe, I was fine

Grew up with a lot of dreams

Plans who to be

None of them know were mine

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Cordelia Prince sat at her vanity watching the flame of a candle sitting in front of her light and unlight, hypnotized by the burning bits of ember coming off the wick. 

It was the summer after her first year of formal wizard education at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry and Cordelia Prince was miserable. While she did live what most would consider a charmed life, coming from a well-respected pure-blood family with money and influence to spare, she has yet to see how those things were a benefit. To her they seemed to be nothing more than a gilded cage. 

At this point she was reasonably certain her mother was deliberately trying to drive her irreversibly mad. The woman in question was Yvonne Prince of the Noble house of Prince, a perfect pure-blood witch in every way, well mannered, well dressed, and well connected.  Cordelia, being her only daughter, had thus far spent the summer doing nothing but endless hours of torture, or as her mother liked to call it, “preparing her for the duties of a pure-blood witch.” Whatever the bloody hell that meant. 

This, unfortunately, meant that Cordelia had been subjected to hours upon hours of etiquette lessons, pouring over old pure-blood family lineages, learning proper posture, dancing lessons, how to eat properly, how to speak properly; it was as if her mother was her own personal finishing school and Cordelia was in her own personal nightmare. 

She had taken to coming up with any and all excuses she could to escape her mothers iron grip, on one occasion even going as far as hiding in the attic. This worked for all of five minutes until a bogart wormed its way out of an old cupboard. The figure that stood before her in the musty attic sent her running back downstairs and into her room for the rest of the day. 

She eventually got desperate enough to start following her father around a bit more, in the name of “quality time.” Not that her father seemed to care for that matter. He often barely even noticed her existence. Decimus Prince, much like his wife, embodied what a man of his stature “should” be. He was a stoic man with a commanding presence. He also sat on the board of every important ministry committee that their family name (or money) could bribe his way onto.   

Her parents' coldness was not just directed at Cordelia, but at each other as well. Her mother and father seemed to have an unspoken agreement to stay out of each other's way as much as possible. So, if she was with her father, most of the time her mother let her be.

~

This was a solid plan up until one night, at one of her parents' dinner parties, Cordelia had been told by her mother one too many times to “sit up nicely like a lady.” She went to find her father, hoping to ward off her mother. He was having a conversation with an associate of his when she walked up. 

“Ah, Decimus, this must be your lovely daughter,” the man gestured her way.  

“Yes, Cordelia. This is Mr. Bagman.” her father said dryly. Cordelia nodded a greeting to Mr. Bagman only for her mother to somehow materialize behind her, clearing her throat. Cordelia internally rolled her eyes. 

“Pleasure, to meet you Mr. Bagman,” Cordelia said, trying her best not to sound sarcastic. 

Mr. Bagman chuckled and turned back to her father, “As I was saying, Decimus, the Ministry is really putting a priority on quidditch this year…” Cordelia had immediately perked up at this. Cordelia could vividly remember the first quidditch game she had attended.   

It had been the final match of the World Cup, Wales vs. Argentina. Cordelia had spent much of the game watching slack jawed and mesmerized as the mostly female Welsh team whipped the pitch with Argentina. Their chasers were especially tenacious, punching bludgers out of the way, scoring goals whilst doing aerial rolls, there had even been a fist fight mid-air which had to be broken up when one of the women had bit the Argentina beater on the forearm. 

More than once that match, Cordelia’s mother had scolded her for “excessive cheering” and “using inappropriate words.” But ever since, she had been enamored with the sport.

“You know Decimus, year after next the World Cup will be hosted in Britain for the first time in 30 years,” Mr. Bagman continued to her father. The blonde stocky man now had her full attention. 

Even her father seemed intrigued at this development, raising a brow with interest. “Oh really?” 

“We’re about a year into organizing. I could get you a nice spot in the minister’s box if you’d like?” This sent a thrill of excitement through Cordelia. 

Before she could stop herself, she blurted out, “That would be brilliant!” Her father shot her a vague look of disapproval at her outburst, but before she could open her mouth to correct herself Mr. Bagman let out a hearty chuckle.  

“A fellow fan of the game, eh? You know I was a beater for the English team myself, back in my day? Hogwarts’ has quite the quidditch teams if you wanted to try your hand at it yourself, young lady.” 

Cordelia felt the corners of her mouth lift involuntarily at the suggestions, “Maybe I will.” 

“Then, shall I owl you the tickets, Decimus?” Mr. Bagman sent her a wink. Her mother cleared her throat for the second time that night and she could practically feel the daggers her mother was staring into her back.

“Cordelia, be a dear and go say hello to your aunt Imogen.” With that Cordelia reluctantly stocked off to talk to her aunt about something she assumed would be extremely dull like the table arrangements or how shiny she thought the floors should be.  

Later that night her mother had come up to her room and made it very clear that playing quidditch was not becoming of her “lady of her stature” and she was henceforth forbidden from taking part in that barbaric sport.  Cordelia stared back at the door her mother had slammed on her way out and naturally immediately resolved herself to make the quidditch team at school.

~

After that night, she began secretly practicing at night on the manor grounds. She had taken to waiting until her father had retired to his study and her mother had taken her sleeping draught to sneak out. With a little help from the family’s house elf Lockey, three times a week Cordelia would creep as silently as possible down from her room, through the kitchens, out the servant’s entrance, and across the grounds to the carriage house. Which these days their family was using mainly for storage.

Luckily for Cordelia amongst the items stored were a few of her father’s old brooms. While old and long out of use, they did still fly. So, in the cover of darkness, Cordelia would zoom about chasing the various objects that Lockey would helpfully enchant, her parents never the wiser. 

With all her clandestine nighttime activities and desperate attempts to avoid her mother, she was least distracted from the fact that she wouldn’t get to see either of her school friends this Summer. Her friend Daphne Greengrass, who was from a very well-respected pure-blood family, was on holiday in Romania for the Summer. Cordelia figured she wouldn’t likely see her until the start of term. Her only solace was that Daphne seemed just as miserable as Cordelia in her last letter. 

Cordy,

Everything here is old and smells like beets. I heard there might be mermaids in the black sea. Maybe I can pay them to kidnap me. 

-Daphne 

Unfortunately, she knew better than to ask to visit her other school friend Tracey Davis. She was a muggle born, which according to Cordelia’s parents was not an acceptable acquaintance to make, much less a friend, not that Cordelia cared. Tracey was a strong witch and a fierce friend.

 In her eyes why should it matter what Tracey’s parentage was, if anything it was more impressive that her magic had sprang forth from nothing, as she had no magic in her lineage. This was a line of thought she would not dare speak in front of her parents, however. The punishment would be swift and mind numbingly unbearable.

However, she was able to get letters from her friend. Fortunately, her parents had gifted her an owl in her first year. Sage, who was a tiny, brown Northern Saw-whet, made up for her size by being equal parts adorable and tenacious. She had never failed to deliver a parcel, no matter the size. 

Dear Cordelia, 

I hope this reaches you, I just got this owl and I really can’t figure how he just knows where you are. Anyway, I wish you could visit. My brother keeps saying he wants to meet a “real witch”. He’d do great in Slytherin if he ever gets magic. Write back soon. 

-T

Thankfully, soon this unbearable summer would be over. July had turned to August, which soon passed to nearly September. It was on a late August morning that Cordelia was sitting staring at the flame of the candle on her desk. She had a vague urge to burn the entire house down at the moment, but settled for her current preoccupation with the candle. 

She was unceremoniously pulled from her trance when her mother slammed open her bedroom door for the second time that morning. Her mother was impeccably dressed, as usual, in a gray velvet suit dress and had her dark hair pulled into a French twist, not one hair out of place.  

Cordelia flinched as her mother screeched, “Cordelia Hildred Prince, did I not tell you to be downstairs and ready in exactly ten minutes? That was eleven minutes ag– Young lady! Are you playing with fire again?” 

Cordelia fought very hard not to roll her eyes, knowing that would be a whole separate berating from her mother. She quickly blew out the flame and stood from her vanity. 

“No, mother. And I am ready, see?” She gestured vaguely at her gray tweed pinafore and pressed shirt. 

Her mother’s dark eyes narrowed sharply looking almost black, “Yes and I see you managed to put together something appropriate for a change. Her mother’s eyes passed over her ensemble now scrutinizing her hair, as Cordelia expected. She had pulled her deep brown hair into a braid down her back, hoping that would suffice. 

Her mother’s eye twitched a bit, but she continued, “I didn’t realize this was the foyer, silly me.” Her mother looked around her room with feigned curiosity. 

Truly Cordelia was dragging her feet for a reason. Her parents had decided it was time for the yearly trip to Diagon Alley to get her school things. Her mother was oddly insistent that Cordy go with her father first then meet up later. Which given her mother’s typical controlling tendencies should have been a red flag to Cordelia. 

But nonetheless Cordelia was all but dragged downstairs to the main foyer of their manor where her father was waiting, looking none too pleased. He, as expected, was dressed flawlessly in a smart pinstripe set of robes, his dark hair was perfectly quaffed. Cordelia met her father’s gray-blue eyes, a family trait that Cordelia had inherited.  Then, without a word, they both stepped into the enormous fireplace.

Her father took a handful of Floo powder and said clearly in a commanding tone, “Borgin and Burkes.” Green flames engulfed them as she watched her mother’s form slide away only to be facing an entirely different view moments later. Cordelia immediately recognized the shop. She had been to Borgin and Burkes with her father a few times before in her many bids to escape her mother’s lessons. 

The place was undeniably creepy and desperately needed dust. I mean really, they know they can use magic to dust right? She thought to herself surveying the very musty surrounding shop. 

Her father looked down at her, “Wait here.” She nodded in response. After he turned his back, she rolled her eyes. Where could I possibly go? Like there's so many interesting stores in the creepy decrepit alley? Knockturn Alley, where this particular shop was located, was considered a bit of a “shady” area, to put it lightly.  She walked around looking at the various, probably cursed artifacts. She made her way over to the dusty window looking out into the grimy ally. Ew. 

It was then that she heard a dull ding from the shop bell as the door to the side of her opened. A man with long silvery blond hair and a regal face walked into the dusty shop followed literally by the last person she had wanted to see today. Mr. Malfoy turned back to his son, snapping his snake tipped cane down on the hand of his son, Draco, who had been in the process of examining a bronze idol of some kind. 

“Touch nothing.” He hissed. Cordelia snorted. Mr. Malfoy, having heard, snapped his head up immediately, narrowing his eyes. 

“Ah, Miss Prince. Your father must have already arrived.” He nodded to her cordially. Then proceeded to walk to the back of the store toward where her father was. 

After his father was out of ear shot Draco spit out, “Prince.” 

Cordelia tsked, “So nice to see you too, Draco,” she said, mocking the way her father had said his name. Draco, to her surprise, flushed slightly.

“Draco!” his father snapped, annoyance dripping from his voice.

 Cordelia looked at him expectantly, making the “move along” hand motion. Draco sneered at her as he went to the back of the store carrying a black box. Presumably what his father was calling him for and presumably filled with some kind of shady cursed objects.

Now blissfully alone, Cordelia turned back to the window pulling up her sleeve so that she could rub a bit of the dust off and see out better when she heard the floorboards creak behind her. She turned back to the door only to come face to face with a soot covered and very alarmed looking Harry Potter seemingly trying to make a quick exit out the door. She opened her mouth, but before she could even finish the P in Potter, he shh-ed her. 

“Please,” he whispered pleadingly, looking back the direction her and Draco’s father had gone. Right, he is definitely not supposed to be here, she realized. She nodded silently. She heard voices a little louder from the office. If either her father or Lucious Malfoy were to find Harry here it wouldn’t be pretty. Thinking quickly, she grabbed Harry’s hand. 

“Come on Potter,” She whispered. She led Harry out of the Shop and into the adjoining alley away from the street. She turned towards him, “Potter, if you were looking to do some sightseeing you really picked a poor place to do that.” She snorted.

Harry looked at her incredulously and stuttered something about Floo powder. Cordelia genuinely chuckled about that. “Huh, what, you’ve never traveled by floo before? Weird.” She mused. 

“Yes, well my muggle aunt and uncle didn’t have much use for it oddly enough.” Harry shot back at her. Before she could respond she noticed an old crone with her eyes trained on them creeping towards them. 

“While I’d love to trade barbs a little more Potter, I think that woman wants to make you into stew. So, let's get you out of here.” She paused, looking him over, “Unless you’d like to be stew?”

He looked at her dead pan, “No, thanks.” She took his hand again and led him into the street trying to remember the way out of the alley. Rushing up the stairs at the end of the street, she looked back to see if the crone was still following them and she ran smack into a solid mass of a person. 

“Bloody hell,” she looked up only to see the massive form of the Hogwarts groundskeeper of all people. Hagrid seemed bewildered at the sight of the two of them in a place like Knockturn Alley. 

“Harry! What are you doing in a place like this?” Harry stuttered out the same excuse about Floo powder and getting lost. Then, thankfully Hagrid took both of them back to Diagon Alley. Harry turned to leave presumably to meet up with his friends, but turned back to Cordelia, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly. 

“Um, thanks by the way.” 

“You owe me one Potter,” Cordelia said with a slight smile giving him a quick wave goodbye as he left. She was left standing there with the realization that she had saved the boy who lived from quite possibly ending up in some creepy old lady’s cauldron, but more importantly she had successfully ditched both of her parents. She was in Diagon Alley with a pocket full of galleons and sickles, unsupervised. It almost made her giddy. 

Her first stop was obviously Florean Fortescue’s Ice Cream Parlor. Where she bought herself a dark chocolate and blood orange swirl cone. She walked around the alley enjoying her cone when in the distance she heard a familiar voice near the Leaky Cauldron. 

“Yes, mom, it is normal. No! Dad please don’t touch the floating cauldron.” Cordelia could hear the familiar voice of her friend Tracey Davis, “Trace” for short, and what appeared to be her muggle parents. 

“Trace!” Cordelia yelled from across the street. Tracey perked up immediately and looked her way. 

“Cordy!” Tracey yelled barreling toward her. She ran at Cordelia and hit her with a somewhat violent hug that nearly knocked the wind out of her and almost made her spill her ice cream, but she returned the hug, nonetheless. 

“Ok, yes, Trace. I missed you too, but you're crushing my lungs.” Cordelia grunted out. Cordelia had almost forgotten how freakishly strong Tracey was. Sometimes Cordelia wondered if there was some giant’s blood deep in Davis family lineage. The girl sheepishly let her go and Cordelia looked her friend over. Tracey had deep bronze skin and it seems had cut her hair over summer and was now sporting dark cropped hair. She met her friend’s brown eyes, which reflected the grin she had.  Tracey turned to introduce Cordelia to her parents. 

Sonya and Theobald Davis were kind to Cordelia. However, her mom gave off an aura of being just a little bit terrifying. She gave off a vibe that said if you mess with me, I’ll make you disappear, and her dad seemed like his greatest wish would be to disappear. Someone should tell him about invisibility cloaks. They were a bit of an odd couple, but they did seem to truly care about Tracey. 

Unfortunately, Tracey and her parents were on their way back home when Cordelia met them, but Tracey did tell her that Daphne was here as well today. Tracey had just run into her at Eeylops Owl Emporium. So, Cordelia headed that way, finishing the last of her ice cream on the way. 

She entered Eeylops and immediately found Daphne. She wasn’t hard to miss. Daphne Greengrass was already tall for her age and with her high cheekbones, impeccable fashion sense, and sleek straight platinum blond hair, she could easily be mistaken for a child model or something. 

Currently, said blonde was holding quite possibly the ugliest creature Cordelia had ever seen. Is that meant to be a cat? She thought to herself in confusion. It was completely hairless, with wrinkly skin, big ears, and large icy blue eyes. It really resembled a slightly sick house elf more than a cat. But Daphne had it cradled in her arms like a newborn baby. 

Finally, noticing her, Daphne looked up from the creature in her arms to Cordelia. 

“Cordy.” Daphne said, the corner of her mouth raising slightly. Daphne was a stone-faced girl most of the time, so for anyone else this would be a full faced grin. “I bought a cat.” she said like it was the most obvious thing in the world. 

“I can see that.” Cordelia said, trying her best not to visibly cringe. 

“Her name is Astrid and I would kill for her.” Daphne said, seemingly 100% serious. Cordelia, trying to be a supportive friend, walked over to the two and cautiously pat Astrid on her bald head. It was like petting an old man’s knee. Astrid just stared blankly at her. Wow, they are made for each other. 

“She’s lovely.” Cordelia said, hoping she sounded genuine. 

“I know, right?” Daphne stated. Cordelia could have sworn she almost heard some fondness in Daphne’s voice. This was quite possibly the happiest she had ever seen her. 

The two girls left the shop and Daphne agreed to accompany Cordelia to Quality Quidditch Supplies for some more, unsupervised shopping. When the girls got close enough to the shop Cordelia spotted what looked to be a newly released broom in the display window. It had polished black wood and silver hardware. The Nimbus 2001, was the newest model in the Nimbus series and the fastest broom in existence, according to the display window. 

“Wow…” Cordelia breathed out. Daphne looked up from where she was fawning over Astrid. 

“You should get it.” she said matter-of-factly. Cordelia turned to gawk at her. 

“Maybe if I want my parents to send me to Azkaban.” Cordelia scoffed. “Mother’s head would explode, and they’d make me clean it up.” Though Cordelia was sounding less and less convinced the more she talked. “They’d hang me by my toes from the ceiling in the dungeon…” Cordelia trailed off, still looking at the shiny broom. She glazed back at Daphne, who had one eyebrow raised expectantly. 

“I’m getting it.” Cordelia said resolutely.

“Yup.” Daphne replied. 

The two girls entered the shop and after about twenty minutes came back out, Daphne still stroking Astrid along her fleshy ears and Cordelia with a gift-wrapped Nimbus 2001 and a copy of Quidditch Through the Ages. Cordelia was nearly beaming with excitement chatting with her friend about how excited she was to practice with her new broom. 

This was when fate decided to rear its ugly head. Out of the stationary store that was next door to Quality Quidditch Supplies walked Cordelia's Mother. Cordelia was sure she felt her soul leave her body. Her mother zeroed in on her immediately, walking very deliberately right over to them. 

“Where have you been, young lady?” Mrs. Prince interrogated. “You’re supposed to be with your father and–” She paused. “And here I find you unsupervised with–” She finally seemed to have noticed Daphne. “Ah, yes Daphne, I was just chatting with your mother about a lovely new letterhead. Be a dear and go meet her and your sister in the stationary shop.” 

While her mother’s fake smile was convincingly cordial enough, her tone left no room for argument. Daphne glanced at Cordelia, her eyebrow twitching, then left without a word. Traitor. Cordelia watched her walk into the stationary shop begrudgingly. 

“Now, what, pray tell, is all this?” Her mother gestured to the gift-wrapped broom and book. In hindsight, Cordelia was not sure why she had even bothered to get it wrapped. Maybe she thought it would magically hide the very clear broom shape. It had not. She panicked, grasping for any excuse she could think of. GIFT wrapped, that’s right! 

“It’s a gift!” She blurted out hoping she sounded confident. Well at the very least her mother had not expected this answer if the look on her face was any indication. Her mother’s look of surprise was brief and quickly replaced with one of keen interest and something sinister. Oh no. 

“Oh really?” Her mother smiled coyly, “and who are these, quite expensive looking gifts for?” She had made a grave error. Oh no. No. No. 

“Um…well…” Cordelia began. 

“Out with it.” Her mother demanded, eyes immediately turning sharp. “Unless you have deliberately gone against my instructions for you to NOT pursue anything to do with that silly quidditch sport?” 

“No! They’re for… M-Malfoy!” Cordelia sputtered out. I. Am. An. Idiot. “I-I was embarrassed. They’re a gift, I’m going to give them to him at school.” Cordelia just kept digging herself deeper and deeper into a hole of her own stupidity. Azkaban would have been better than this. It got worse as a look of delight came across her mother’s face. 

“I see my lessons have finally started to sink in. Excellent, when we get home, we’ll work on writing a proper letter to go with them. I got you some lovely new letterhead, so we could start working on your frankly atrocious penmanship. Oh, I will have to send Narcissa an owl; she'll be very pleased with this development indeed…”

Her mother kept going on and on and on. From their trip to Flourish and Blotts for Cordelia’s books to Madam Malkin’s for her robes all the way back to the Leaky Cauldron where they would Floo back home. Her mother only briefly paused to say “Prince Manor'' then launched right back into babbling about various extremely dull things. By the time they reached home, jamming her wand into her ear holes and just being deaf for the rest of her life was sounding very tempting to Cordelia.     

She trudged back to her room leaving her mom still talking whilst sorting Cordelia’s school things. She wondered how long it would take her mother to realize she wasn’t even in the room anymore. She dropped her now useless broom and book onto the floor beside her bed and flopped face down on the mattress, letting out a muffled scream.

~Previous Chapter

~Next Chapter

[toukatan]

You read every gojohime fic???? That's amazing!!! What are your favourites?

hello anonie! i guess i can say i’ve read at least a good 80% of all the fics, at least. probably. most likely because the fic tag at the start of the year was tiny and now the community’s grown so much there’s almost 600 of them. that’s insane to me. like hello?

i have a lotta fics that come to mind, that i should honestly make a master post on because i love them all. so here are a few many that came to mind immediately as i typed this up.

gojohime fic recommendations!

multichapter

limitations by ohmytheon 

“Parenthood chooses you," her mother used to tell her, but Utahime never understood that saying more than the moment she realized she was pregnant with Gojo Satoru's child. They were never meant to be something serious - never meant to be more than they were - and yet they both suddenly find themselves in a world that doesn't care about their desires - and that brings them closer in a way that no one else can understand. It won't be easy and it won't be kind to either of them, but it appears as if the universe has other plans for them

no one is what they were before by ohmytheon 

The world broke when Gojo Satoru turned on jujutsu society. It's not the hopeful place it was before, but Utahime has never been one to give up. Until she's placed in a dangerous position directly in his path, and she finds herself trapped in a web that doesn't seem intent on ever letting her go.

and touch me like you never by ohmytheon 

In public, Gojo is a special grade bastard, especially to Utahime, and has been all their lives. He knows exactly what insults to throw and what buttons to push to drive her up a wall. In private, however, he's got quite a few other things to tell and show her, which only makes things more confusing. It would be easier if she could avoid him entirely, but for some reason, he won't let her go entirely.

gravity by aerfei

This is Utahime, fierce and indomitable, and this is Satoru, who despite holding the world’s regard, still craves something that Utahime has had all her life. Coming together is sometimes an act of desperation, and sometimes a deliberate choice. Or: An Iori Utahime character study, through the lens of her relationship with Gojo Satoru, starting from the beginning and ending at the Goodwill Event arc. Manga spoilers and (at least 95%) canon-compliant through (at least) chapter 135.

count every single leaf in autumn by florieneofthesea

“I told my family we’re dating.” Utahime’s hand hovers over the door. “What?!” (or: Gojo tells his family that he's dating Utahime to get them off his back, so of course they invite her to the dreaded family dinner™)

favourite colour by otherthingsonhold

At 28, Satoru Gojo's responsibilities only start to multiply. With his clan looking to him to lead the family, and the balance of the universe in his hands, Gojo isn't thinking of much else. But when his mother brings something to his attention, the only thing Gojo can do is follow through. But how is Utahime Iori part of all of this?

gojo catoru by ashittywriter

Utahime is tasked to catsit a suspiciously large Persian dollface cat with pristine white hair, the most boop-able nose, and to top it off the cutest cerulean eyes. Too bad the cat also happens to be her idiotic colleague Gojo Satoru.

at the tail-end of spring by florieneofthesea

Utahime doesn't expect to remember her ex's number off by heart but it comes in handy when she's a little less than sober outside a club in a city she's not familiar with and her battery on three percent. She just wishes things turned out differently for them. (Or, post-break up exploration where outer forces refuse to let them have their happy ending.)

a second chance by onewordmore

In another world, it wasn't Geto who sneered down at humanity, regarding them to be worthless monkeys that deserved to die. In another world, it wasn't Geto who openly defied the Jujutsu Council and brought down terror and fear to all. In another world, it wasn't just Amanai Riko who died that day, amidst the cheers and delighted cries of the insane. And Utahime was going to learn, first hand, the consequences of her own death.

from you to me by onewordmore

A drabble series regarding Gojo and Utahime. From fluff to smut to angst to love. This is going to have it all.

oneshots

oceansize by aerfei

The marriage is arranged by their families, small clans both, with all their hopes and traditions laid gently upon the shoulders of their only heirs -- and yet, this distance is impassable.

under the cover of darkness by ohmytheon

It takes a little alcohol, early morning hours, and a game of truth or dare for Gojo and Utahime to admit some difficult truths to each other.

risk/reward by ohmytheon 

No punishment had ever been more effective in making Gojo do his actual job than receiving praise from his secretary - or more grueling than when Utahime withheld it.

like a good roommate by ohmytheon

Utahime has a problem: her bed wasn't delivered to the new apartment. Her ridiculous roommate, Gojo, has a solution - but he's kind of panicking on the inside.

aware of us by halspur 

“We did alright, didn’t we?” Gojo put his phone down after taking several dozen photos of Tsumiki walking across the stage, his eyes soft. “I mean, we were just kids, too.”

love song by halspur

“Because you’re weak.” Gojo said, muffled into the thin skin of her throat. “I can’t leave you alone.”

tear you apart by halspur

“I don’t want to be mean to you,” Utahime’s cheek was pressed into his spine, her voice muffled. “I like you.”

cuddles are for clean boyfriends by just_trying_my_best_everyday

Utahime finds Gojo Satoru sitting right behind the door, blindfold hanging on his neck, completely soaked in blood and petting her cat with both hands. And he stinks.

honey by florieneofthesea

Gojo Satoru experiences love a decade before he fully realises it.

roots by florieneofthesea 

At the start of winter, Utahime starts to cough up blood. She thinks maybe its just the lingering damage from her last mission, but the coughing persists and it starts to scratch her throat, and itch at her lungs and when she finally makes the trip to Tokyo to ask Shoko for her help, she doesn't even get the first word out. Shoko welcomes her at the entrance to Tokyo Metropolitan Technical School and Utahime hacks up a single, pale blue petal, smattered with blood. She stares down at the flora on the ground and wonders if she's been cursed. Utahime looks up, and Shoko's eyes are wide.

to have and to hold by ashittywriter

“M’sorry," Gojo said his voice slurring at the end. "But please go away, I have a girlfriend." Utahime blinked in confusion. What the fuck? 

souvenir by PrettyKittyLuvsU

“Aha!” Gojo tugged something out of his pocket, his long fingers curled around it as he held his hand behind his back. His other hand waved before him, a cheeky grin splitting his lips. “Ora, ora! Hold out your hand.” Utahime stared flatly. “Ora, ora!” Gojo persisted, continuing to wave his hand as he grinned. “Hold out your hand already!” Utahime scowled at the hand swaying infront of her face. She had half a mind to slap the man instead, but her students were closely watching. Even Gojo’s students, the second years mainly—for Sukuna’s vessel was apologizing profusely as the brown haired girl continued kicking him while the quiet one made no effort to stop her— looked in fascination at whatever ridiculous souvenir Gojo wanted to hand her. Utahime slowly lifted her arm, already planning on throwing the thing back in Gojo’s annoying face. Gojo gets Utahime a very special kind of souvenir. Set during the start of the Goodwill arc.

dayum this exposes me huh? i do be reading a lot but what can i say i love to see it. all these fics are amazing, to the writers y’all are doing fantastically like my goodness you be really putting ya girl in a loop with some of these fics with your plot-lines and doing it flawlessly. can’t thank them enough for them, their hard work and time!

be sure to show the writers some love and support with comments, bookmarks and fight that dayum kudos button when it smiles at you because lemme leave more—

i think they’d really really appreciate it when they hear the bing and be sure to check out all of their stories including the ones in the pairing tag! happy readings 😙✨

[starlessea]

Here Comes the Sun: XVIII. Seven Nation Army (Daryl Dixon/Reader)

Series Masterlist: Here Comes the Sun

Summary: Daryl Dixon scares the hell out of you climbing out of that damn creek. It takes hauling his ass halfway across Georgia and taking a bullet for him to realise that you're not half bad. He slowly starts to come around, despite grumbling about how much he doesn't like your singing, or that you can't use a gun for shit - and don't get him started on that ugly yellow tent of yours. It takes him a while before he starts to see for himself that he's found a best friend for life, and that he doesn't actually mind the colour yellow that much, after all.

Words: 6040

Chapter Warnings: Language, Not full-on nsfw but QUITE SPICY, Some canon divergence.

"You're good with 'er." Daryl said, like the words had just slipped from his mouth without him realising.

You held Judy in your arms, cradling her against your chest as she looked up at you with wide, innocent eyes. Daryl seemed equally as mesmerised by the baby, as he stroked his thumb over her supple cheek and watched her give him a gummy smile in return.

You glanced over at the man, leaning against him where he stood. "So are you." You told him, but he shook his head in response.

"Nah I ain't." He muttered, his gaze still resting over Judith like she was the most precious thing in the world.

You hummed back, not wanting to break the moment you were having by arguing with him. You wished that things would stay like this forever - that Judith wouldn't cry, and the governor would never come, or that Daryl would not have to leave.

"Where are you going?" You asked the man, as he took a few steps away.

He held up a hand, gesturing for you to wait, and offered a warm smile to reassure you of his return.

"Jus' gimme a minute." He mumbled, walking towards your shared cell.

You raised your eyebrow, watching him disappear behind the bars, before turning your attention back to Judy. You thought that she had Lori's eyes, as they stared up at you in childlike wonder. You continued humming your song to her, now that the man was out of earshot and wouldn't tease you as you sang it. Daryl had suggested sticking the walkman headphones on her every time she cried, but Carol had scolded him for even thinking of the idea. You giggled, remembering the exchange, and how you just watched the two of them get along like old friends whilst you sat in the corner bouncing Judith over your lap.

Daryl came back not even a few minutes later, dragging his rucksack over the floor. He didn't have many possessions to begin with, so you cocked your head in his direction - confused about what could possibly be in there. He returned to your side, resting his arm around your shoulder as he hovered over it to make a face at Judith. You giggled, wondering what the others would say if they had the pleasure of seeing Daryl like this. Though, at the same time, you almost wanted to be completely selfish and not share that side of him with anyone.

You watched as the man fumbled around in the backpack for a bit, before pulling out a familiar, child-size sheriff's hat that couldn't possibly fit on his head. He grinned at you, taking in the way your eyes lit up in response.

"Said we'd give it to lil' asskicker, didn't we?" He teased, before placing the hat gently over the baby's head.

The sight made you want to melt. Daryl began to call Rick over to see, but you slapped his chest and hushed him before he did, wanting to enjoy the moment for yourselves just a little while longer. Daryl narrowed his eyes at you, but his expression soon softened as he noticed the way you stared down at Judith, who was staring right back. You felt like you were holding the future in your arms - and that future wore a sheriff's hat and went by the name of Judith Grimes. What you wouldn't give for a camera; you wanted so desperately to take a photo of her with her brother, and gift a copy to Rick as a surprise.

Daryl had his hand resting over the small of your back. It had hovered there at first, uneasy as usual, but it seemed like he'd forgotten his shyness for a brief moment as he watched the pair of you. You felt like a makeshift, adoptive family, and you wouldn't want it any other way. The hat started to slip down Judith's head, still too big for her yet, and Daryl tipped it back up gently with his knuckle. It was like an impromptu version of peek-a-boo. Everytime the hat fell and covered her face, Daryl would prop it back into position and the baby would smile. You weren't sure you could take it anymore; the entire exchange felt too adorable to keep from the rest of the group any longer.

Just as you were about to call for them, Judy grabbed onto Daryl's finger with her entire fist - which still wasn't able to close all the way around it. You laughed softly at the man's expression, as he stayed perfectly motionless in fear of making her let go.

"I think she likes her uncle Daryl." You whispered, and gave him a quick kiss on the cheek in your attempt to unstick the frozen statue.

To that, you could see a faint blush spread over his skin, but this time you decided not to tease him about it.

The two of you made your way to the communal area after a few more minutes, and the others quickly gathered around to get a look at Judith before they left. It was a nice break from the tension in the atmosphere, and it helped you forget, too. Rick gave his daughter a kiss and headed outside to test the vehicle they'd be driving. 

Soon, the meeting with the governor would be taking place. Andrea had set it up, like she'd promised, and so Rick, Daryl and Hershel would be heading out under the guise of diplomacy. However, you couldn't say for sure that you believed in the plan very much. As you'd all established before, the governor just didn't seem like the type of man who'd let both sides co-exist peacefully.

Carl had taken his sister from you at some point, and you watched as he compared their hats and made Carol laugh with his antics. Behind you, the Greenes were bidding goodbye to their father and reminding him to be careful, and Daryl approached you under the amused eye of Merle.

"Rick says it's time to go." He told you, affirming the words you'd been dreading to hear.

You put on your best, bravest face and shot him a smile that only faltered a little. He caught it, though - he always did. He pulled you into a hug, and you leant your forehead against his chest, feeling his heartbeat there.

"Be safe." You murmured against him. "Come home this time or I'll kill you myself."

The man chuckled, which you felt rumble through his torso. You looked up at him with a playful smile and he caught your lips, giving you a quick kiss there when he thought no one was looking. In moments like these, it was refreshing to get a glimpse of the old, shy Daryl - never wanting to be in the spotlight. You nudged him gently with your elbow, sending him on his way with a teasing ruffle of his hair. Perhaps you were being too nonchalant about the situation, but you didn't want to dwell on it - or you'd become a crumbling mess like the last time.

You stood next to Beth as the rest of the group filtered out, and the others returned back to whatever they'd been doing before. The girl smiled at you, watching the way your eyes followed Daryl's back as he left the cell block.

"I'll never get used to that." She said quietly, looking between the two of you.

You thought that she'd perhaps seen the exchange take place, but you couldn't really say that you minded.

"Me neither." You confessed, and Beth giggled in response.

You remembered the jokes you'd shared with her, back at the farmhouse. You'd made a promise to talk to her about boys whenever she was sad, and let her laugh at your misfortune in return. Yet, things hadn't exactly played out like that. Daryl was a world away from those bad experiences you'd once recounted to her, but you somehow seemed even more nervous to talk about him in their place. Perhaps it was because you wanted to keep the man all to yourself, just like earlier - as though the very act of speaking about him would disclose some kind of secret you weren't willing to share. Daryl Dixon was yours, but you felt almost too shy to admit it.

"I used to think that Daryl would be the last man standing." Beth confessed, startling you. "Out of all of us."

You nodded back, letting her words sink in.

"I can see why. He's like a one-man army." You replied with a smirk, thinking back on all the times he had proved himself so.

Though Beth shook her head, seeming to almost disagree with herself. You stayed silent, awaiting her response.

"But I don't think that anymore." She told you, like she was completely certain of herself. "It'll probably be you."

Immediately, you raised an eyebrow, wondering if you'd misheard her. Beth's expression didn't change, so you let out a snort in disbelief - amused by the seriousness of it all.

"Me?" You repeated, looking over at her like she'd gone mad. "Why's that?"

The youngest Greene bit her lip, as if deliberating whether to tell you her next words. Eventually, she gave you a light-hearted smile, as though having finally decided to reveal a secret.

"Because there's no way Daryl would let you go down before he did."

You spent the majority of your time waiting in your cell, trying to keep yourself busy by cleaning it up. Daryl had hauled his mattress into the room, and the two of you had abandoned the bunk frame in favour of pushing the two beds together on the floor - creating a makeshift double. You'd also stolen an extra sheet from the laundry room and hung it over your doorway for some privacy. It was still a far cry from the decor of Hershel's farmhouse, but it was starting to feel more comfortable nonetheless. Daryl had given you some thin rope from his rucksack, too, so you'd been able to replace the fraying string from which your polaroids had been strung up. It still wasn't a home yet, but it could be. 

The last few days had been tense, so you couldn't blame yourself for slumping down onto the mattress and staring up into a starless, stone sky for a while. You followed the cracks on the ceiling like you were trying to create patterns there, and eventually you felt your eyelids grow heavy as sleep overcame you easier than it had done for as long as you could remember.

When you woke up, the room was dimmer than it had been before, and you thought that it had to be late evening. You'd roused to the sound of footsteps approaching, echoing over the catwalk as though the person wore thick, heavy boots. You smiled to yourself, instantly recognising who they belonged to. The metal doorway squeaked open, and some light filtered in as Daryl lifted the sheet hanging there, letting it fall back down behind him as he entered. You greeted him, but he was wordless in response. He shrugged his leather vest off and let it fall to the floor, not even bothering to place it anywhere.

You raised an eyebrow at the man, debating whether to scold him for making the cell messy when you'd spent your whole day trying to make it nice for him when he got back. Yet, you took one glance at Daryl's face and decided against it. The man looked exhausted. Probably not physically, you realised, but definitely mentally. He seemed to have a permanent scowl tacked onto him, and you could make out the frown lines over his forehead even in the poor lighting. So, you said nothing when the man tugged off his boots and flung them at the wall - where they fell with a thud into a pile.

Sitting up on the mattress, you plumped your pillow against your back and rubbed your eyes. You could almost feel the stress radiating off Daryl as he paced back and forth, so you patted the spot beside you and pulled back the covers to invite him in. He eyed you for a second, as if considering the offer, before taking a seat there. Though, he didn't allow himself to lay down or make himself comfortable, and instead stayed sat over the edge of the mattress with his back to you. Slowly, you crawled over to him, before perching on your knees and resting your head on his shoulder. 

"How'd it go?" You whispered, but knew you could probably guess the answer.

Daryl's back was tense; you could feel it. Tentatively, you began to knead your fingers over it, trying to work out the knots in his muscles. Instead of flinching like he usually did, you felt the man relax into you as you pressed your knuckles along his spine.

He growled, but the sound became lost in his throat as you rubbed along his shoulder blades. "It ain't gonna work out." He muttered, eyes closed as he said it.

You hummed in response, more preoccupied with the sounds the man was letting out than his words. It reminded you of being back at the farm, and those days where he'd try to relieve the tension built up in your stiff arms and neck from learning how to shoot.

"Why?" You asked, feeling the deep breath he took underneath your palms.

"Jus' ain't." He replied, but his voice came out strained. 

You ran your thumbs down his spine in tandem, all the way from the top of his neck to his lower back, and you felt him shiver slightly under your touch.

"Okay then." You said, like it was the simplest thing in the world.

Daryl opened his eyes and glanced back at you.

"Tha's it?" He questioned, like he'd expected something more from your response.

You hummed back, returning to pressing over his shoulder blades. Though, the man turned around this time, bringing his legs onto the mattress as he looked over at you.

"I trust you. And I trust Rick." You explained, meeting his questioning eyes. "Whatever we have to do, we'll do."

Daryl frowned, and looked at you like you didn't understand in the slightest. You did, but you didn't want to burden him any more than you had to.

"We gotta gear up for war." He told you, narrowing his eyes like he was trying to convince you of his words - or wait for them to sink in.

You nodded at him, reaffirming that you understood.

"Then we better start loading our guns."

Daryl seemed to break at your words, shaking his head like you'd answered him in the way he'd least wanted. This time you didn't understand, and ran your thumb over the back of his hand to try and coax out an explanation. The man sighed, and took your fingers in his palm as he pressed a kiss over the tips of them.

"Don' wan' ya to have to fight." He admitted quietly, but knew he didn't have a choice.

You shuffled forward a little, so that you were almost sitting in between the man's thighs. His head was low, and he couldn't quite meet your eyes until you spoke.

"That's not up to you to decide." You said, but did so as gently as you could. "It's not like lil' asskicker can hold a rifle yet."

His eyes flickered slightly at the mention of Judith, and you understood that completely. He realised that as much as he wanted to keep you safe, there were now other people who needed his protection more. 

"I'm not worried." You reassured him, and pressed both of his cheeks under your palms until he pulled a face that made you laugh.  

"I'll be fine because you're here." You told the man, and watched as his expression seemed a little lighter than it had done. "And you're all that I need."

He pulled you into his chest and fell back against the mattress with you in his arms, and you giggled as your noses pressed together. You moved your knees so that they rested either side of his hips, not wanting to crush the man as he squeezed you tight against him. 

"What I do to deserve ya?" He mumbled into your hair, and it tickled your ear.

You sat upright, so that you were looking down at him and watching as your hair trailed over his cheeks.

"Hmm, I don't know." You said with a grin. "Bribe me with pretty flowers and music players?"

He smiled back softly, and took the ends of your hair between his fingers, playing with them where he lay. You felt a bit exposed, practically sitting on the man's torso and straddling him as he just stayed perfectly still, content beneath you. For once, you felt like the shy one, as he rubbed over your thigh with his hand - tracing shapes over your jeans. You thought about his question once more, and decided that he deserved a serious answer, too.

"When I first saw you trying to haul yourself up that cliff, you gave me a purpose." You admitted smally, catching his attention like you hadn't even realised you'd lost it. "I think that's reason enough."

Daryl let the small wisps of your hair fall from his fingers as he looked up, focusing on you completely.

"A purpose?" He asked, like the word was foreign on his tongue.

You nodded, trailing your fingers over his chest absentmindedly.

"Even if it was just to get you back to your camp at first." You mumbled, almost like you were talking to yourself as you voiced your innermost thoughts. "Before that, I was just living day to day." 

You smiled at the memory, thinking that it was perhaps your favourite one. You'd felt so young back then, but at the same time so old. The world had really had its way with you before you'd stumbled upon Daryl and his group. You might have only been in your mid-twenties, but those few months after the collapse had aged you more than you cared to admit. It wasn't until you met Daryl that you remembered how it felt to be young again.

"One of the first things you asked me back then was why I helped you." You recalled, letting your nails lightly run across his chest, sliding upwards to the exposed skin of his neck. 

He stayed silent, like putty in your hands as you spoke.

"I remember finding it a really hard question to answer." You whispered softly, like you were revealing a secret to him. "I ended up saying that I only wanted the chance to be a good person."

Daryl's skin was warm as you ran your thumb along his jawline, surprised at how docile he'd become under your touch. 

"But I think that was a lie." You smiled, and the words felt almost devious to admit. "I'd forgotten what it was to even be a person before I met you." 

You leant down to press a kiss to his lips, and pulled away before he could kiss you back.

"Thank you for reminding me, Daryl."

You looked down at the man sweetly, like you'd just poured out your entire heart to him. And, he decided to give you his in return.

Suddenly your world spun like clothes in a washing machine as the man flipped your positions, and you snorted rather unflatteringly as your back hit the mattress. Your legs were still wrapped around his waist, but now he kneeled between them - with your thighs either side. Your laughs soon trailed off as you noticed Daryl's expression, and you suddenly became quiet without having even realised it.

He leant down to capture your lips, but pulled away before you could deepen the kiss - just as you had done.

"Ya can't just go sayin' shit like that an' expect me not to do nothin'." He growled near your ear, and you quickly realised how dangerous your situation had gotten. 

You looped your hands around his neck and pulled him back down, threading your fingers through his hair and letting your nails drag along his scalp. He rested one of his palms over the mattress as he hovered above you, but the other one came to your cheek as your lips met again. You could distinguish Daryl's kisses so easily by now; you knew the soft morning ones from the emotional ones with trembling lips, or the teasing pecks that made you laugh - and that's why you could easily tell that this one was needy. 

He bit your bottom lip between his teeth and you immediately whimpered against him, feeling your head spin at how fast everything happened. You'd gone from the washing machine to the dryer without even realising it, and you felt yourself get equally as hot and disorientated.

"Daryl-" you mumbled against his lips, hooking your ankles together around the back of his torso. 

He moaned in response but said nothing, letting his thumb trail from your cheek to your neck, where he rested it over your quickly beating pulse. You had your palms pressed flat against his chest, rubbing over the area and feeling the warmth radiate from him. You wanted to take the shirt off, and feel his skin over yours, but you were too preoccupied by his lips on you to do so. He kissed you with more pressure, and you whimpered again as you felt yourself becoming more lost to his touches. You'd thought that Daryl Dixon was a shy man, but recently he seemed adamant to prove you wrong

You unintentionally squeezed your thighs tighter around him, as you felt your head being pushed back further into the mattress. Your jeans rubbed against his uncomfortably, and you felt the buttons dig into your hips and chafe your skin every time you moved. You pulled away for a brief second to catch your breath, and took in the dangerous sight of Daryl Dixon. 

You realised that perhaps you'd made a mistake - when you looked at him, that is. His lips were swollen a blush red, and his pupils were blown as he watched you, watching him. You looked away first, feeling shy under his gaze. You wondered how this had happened - when it had happened. You hadn't thought of yourself as the nervous one, but you were made nervous for him. 

Without meeting his eyes, you tugged at the hemline of his shirt - making it clear what you wanted. He kissed your forehead gently, and you almost got whiplash from how quickly the man could switch from giving you deep, intense kisses to leaving sweet pecks over your skin like he was afraid you might break. He moved back from you, sitting up so that he was kneeling in between your legs, and pulled off his shirt without you having to ask.

You bit your lip, taking in the sight of his barreled chest and toned muscles as he threw the shirt over his shoulder for it to get lost somewhere in the sheets. You didn't get too stare long, because he was back on top of you in an instant - almost like he'd never left. Though, you didn't mind much, because now you could feel the warmth of his skin pressed against your own chest. Softly, you gasped just from the intensity of it, but Daryl quickly caught your lips and silenced it. You ran your hands up his back, feeling the ridges of scars and the contours of his muscles as he held himself up. You allowed your nails to dig into him slightly, enjoying the way he moaned against you as you did.

Even inside the walls of a prison, Daryl's voice sounded so good up against your ear, as he left your abused lips to focus his attention on your neck, instead. You immediately turned your head to the side in response, feeling your cheek press into the pillow and muffle any noises you made there. You tried to stay quiet, but it seemed like Daryl was intentionally out to make you fail. His tongue ran along your neck and you scratched him particularly hard on his back, stuttering out an apology as you removed your hands and clenched the sheets instead. 

It didn't seem to bother the man, however, as he continued to work his way down until his teeth grazed over your collarbone and made you cry out. You quickly shot him a warning look, and he glanced up at you for a brief second before he did it again. It felt utterly euphoric, so you moaned under him unintentionally before you felt him chuckle against your skin. 

You would have scolded him, or pulled a face, but your words felt so far away that you doubted you'd be able to form a complete sentence even if you tried. One of Daryl's hands had wandered to your waist, and then dipped lower to your hip. His thumb ran over the bone there, and it sent shivers through you as he gripped your skin tighter. You ran your palms over his bare chest in response, still not entirely used to the feeling. He stopped what he was doing, probably leaving some marks over you without you noticing, and ran his finger along the oval collar of your vest.

"Take it off." He mumbled, his lips still pressed against the skin just above it.

A whine left your mouth before you'd even realised it, and you didn't think Daryl Dixon even knew how he sounded right now. He pulled back to look at you, cheeks all flushed and eyes glossy where you lay beneath him, and you nodded.

He helped you shrug the vest over your head, and left it lying next to you on the pillow. You turned away from his eyes almost instantly, feeling more exposed than you had in a while. He had trusted you, and you wanted to be able to give him your trust in return. Yet, you couldn't help but feel shy under a gaze that intense. You reached your arms over your chest, like you were trying to shelter yourself from the cold - despite being incredibly hot. 

The man narrowed his eyes at you, not happy with your decision in the slightest. He leant down so that his lips hovered just above your stomach, and you expected him to place a kiss there in hopes of coaxing your arms away. Except, he didn't. He blew a raspberry against your skin and you all but screamed as you wriggled beneath him, and flung your hands out to push him away. 

"Stop!" You yelled, but it had come out strained between a mixture of giggles. 

You felt the man smile against your stomach as you panted deeply, in utter disbelief about what he'd just done. Your arms rested either side of you, hands tangled in the sheets just like he'd planned, but you weren't happy at the cost you'd had to pay. You glanced down, ready to chide him, but stopped when you noticed how quiet he'd gotten.

Daryl's eyes were fixated on your waist, and he ran his thumb gently over the small scar there - as though afraid to press too hard and hurt you. Your eyes softened when you saw his expression, and the way he chewed his lip between his teeth. You knew that guilty look from a mile away, and you wouldn't let him wear it any longer.

"Don't." You said into the silence, lifting his hand away from the little indentation there.

You brought his knuckles to your lips and left kisses over them, offering him one of your best smiles in hopes of coaxing one out of him in return.

"It was worth it." You told him. "I'd take another bullet for you if I had to."

Daryl let his forehead drop against your hip, like he was completely exasperated by the response, and muttered something below his breath.

"Why's everythin' that comes outta yer mouth so damn sweet?"

He crawled back up the bed and kissed your lips as if to prove his point, and you moaned against him - having missed the feeling. You were chest to chest, skin pressed fully against each other as you arched your back to try and get even closer. Your fingers trailed lightly over his arms, and you could almost make out the rhythm of his heartbeat as your chests heaved together in time. He reached a hand down to the button of your jeans, and pulled away from the kiss to wait for your response.

Nervously, you glanced over towards the entranceway of your cell, only covered by a thin sheet draped there.

"What if someone hears?" You whispered, suddenly aware of how loud you'd perhaps been beforehand.

Daryl dotted some light kisses over your neck, trailing them down as he spoke between each one he gave.

"Don' care." He mumbled, reaching your sternum.

"Don' care if Rick comes to tell us Randall's gone walk about." He said, and tickled your stomach with his lips.

"Don' care if Carol knocks to say the governor's here with an army an' wants his fuckin' walkman back."

He got to your hip, and this time noticed the tattoo that just about peeked out over the top of your jeans. He raised an eyebrow, and you smiled sheepishly in response.

"Don' wanna wait anymore." He said softly, and neither did you.

He sat up and rested his palms either side of you, looking down at your face with the most affection you'd seen from him yet.

"Okay, then." You whispered back, and interlocked your fingers with his. "I'm yours."

You woke up to warm, morning light streaming in through the pale curtain of your cell, and landing on your cheek. Your eyelids fluttered, and it took you a few seconds to adjust to the brightness - feeling the tears well up as you did. You hummed into Daryl's chest, lying over it with your palm resting there. You'd slept so well, but you'd woken up even better. 

His bare skin was warm against yours, so much so that you didn't feel the need to pull the sheets up higher to cover you. You rubbed at your eyes, finally opening them to notice that the man was already awake. You'd been tucked in the crook of his neck, your head just over his shoulder, but he'd been looking down at you as you roused from sleep. Shyly, you smiled at him, and hid your face back into his skin. You felt his laugh rumble there, low and groggy.

"You been up long?" You asked, the words coming out thick as you said them.

You felt him shake his head, but weren't too sure if he was telling the truth. His arm rested over your waist, and you had only just become aware of the weight of it as he rubbed his thumb over your hip beneath the covers.

"What is it?" He murmured. "Didn't ask ya 'bout it las' night."

It took you a few seconds to realise what he meant. You shrugged back the sheet, looking at the part of your body he was referring to. 

"I think you were a little preoccupied." You teased, and he pinched your skin there in response.

The ink stood out strongly against your paleness, dotted over your lower hip so that it was concealed even when you wore low-rise jeans. You recalled that night back at the Greene farm, where you all shared secrets over the campfire and the group had seemed surprised to discover that you had a tattoo. Nobody else had ever seen it; Daryl was the first.

"It's a rune." You told him, feeling his calloused fingers trace over the lines so carefully. "They were one of the things I studied before all this."

A small blush worked its way onto your cheeks, as you suddenly felt embarrassed under the man's intense gaze.

"Looks like an arrow." He noted, inspecting it closer.

You hummed in response, not having thought of it that way before.

"I guess it does, doesn't it?" You chuckled, thinking how appropriate it was for the archer to have been the one to notice.

"It's the symbol of the Norse god Týr." You explained, and he watched you talk passionately without interrupting. "Have you ever heard of the story of Sigurd?"

Daryl shook his head with a small smile, already knowing that you were going to tell him no matter how he answered.

"In the sagas, he slays the dragon Fáfnir and carves the runes of Týr into his sword." You said, excitedly. "They're meant to be the sign of a warrior. To ensure certain victory."

Daryl seemed perfectly content, gazing down at you as you spoke with so much life in your voice. It reminded you of that first night where you shared a bed together in the Greene's spare room. Even then, having barely known you more than a day, the man allowed you to ramble whilst he listened in silence. He'd made out like he was ignoring you, but every small detail you'd given during those early morning hours he'd seemed to recall - even a few weeks later. But now, you thought it was slightly different. He made no attempt to pretend like he wasn't interested in your stories, or that you talked too much for him to stand. He looked at you like your words were law, but he'd somehow ended up in a prison anyway.

"Tha' why ya weren't scared 'bout facing the governor?" He teased, once you'd finished your brief lesson. "Certain victory?"

You snorted, having only just realised the irony of it all.

"No." You admitted, slapping his chest lightly as you laughed.

Maybe it was the rune, but it was more likely the one-man army at your side who assured you of that victory. 

"I think this tattoo would be much more suited to you than it is me." You confessed, tracing its shape over the back of his hand. 

He watched you make your invisible markings, and remained wordless as you did so.

"I got it just after I started teaching. To remind myself to be brave." You told him, and this time he was the one to laugh.

"So teachin' students was as hard as slayin' a dragon?" He questioned, and you could practically hear the smirk through his voice.

You raised your head from his chest to look at him in mock offense.

"If I had a student like you, then maybe." You teased, and the man grabbed the sheets and bundled you up in them tightly as you struggled against him.

The two of you lay there for a while, not quite yet ready to face the day. You knew the inevitable would be coming soon, and you wished you could just pause this moment as easily as you paused the songs on your walkman - immortalising it in an old, labelled cassette. 

"A lot of the time I don't feel very brave, but I've decided to trust it more recently." You mumbled, feeling the edges of sleep start to return.

Daryl questioned you, before realising that you had carried on with the earlier conversation - seemingly by yourself. You felt him trace over your hip again, but your eyelids were too heavy to look at him.

"There anythin' ya don't know?" He grumbled, but it was too playful to be considered so. "Yer too smart for yer own good, Sunshine."

You hummed against his chest, wanting nothing more than for the morning hours to drag along slower, and for the night that followed to stand still.

"I could tell you stories of dragons and knights, and speak to you in languages that have long since faded away." You told the man, but it came out half-hearted and muffled against his skin.

"But there are still many things I don't know, Dixon." You admitted. "Like what I did to deserve you, too."

A/N *mic drop* Ok but for real, who let me have alcohol whilst writing this??? Tipsy me gets WAY TOO SPICY WAY TOO QUICK- The chapter plan had way more in it, but I accidentally threw the plot out the window because I got preoccupied *cough*...

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[jdrizzle15]

Her Second Return

Just like all of you, and especially my fellow Penny fans, I am absolutely devastated by the Volume 8 finale. I had been in quite a state these last few days, utterly heartbroken, and actually nauseous at times. It feels strange to me to be legitimately grieving a fictional character, but it’s not a bad thing to feel this way. To me, this just shows that CRWBY loves her just as much as us to have written her so well that we connect so completely with her, that it feels like we lost an actual piece of ourselves when she’s gone.

But as you can probably tell by the title, this mega post isn’t gonna be about accepting this end, not in the slightest! Today I want to share canon evidence that can point towards another return of our beloved quirky red headed cinnamon bun! I’m here to spread this hope that I and others in the Nuts & Dolts dolts Discord server have!

I have this separated into many different sections to keep these thoughts organized. With that said, here goes…

A Father’s Words:

In Episode 7 of Volume 7, ‘Worst Case Scenario’ we learn the origins of Penny’s aura, and thus her soul. We also learn that it takes more aura each time she’s brought back. This leaves open an option that could be used at a later point.

Many people theorized that Pietro could indeed revive Penny one more time, which he would absolutely do. But there also lies the possibility that someone else could donate some of theirs, I’m not sure about this as I feel like it’s akin to blood donation where compatibility matters or there's a high risk of altering her, but the possibility is definitely there.

Now, the conversation in Chapter 5 of Volume 8, ‘Amity’ that Pietro and Penny have is an important moment for both Father and Daughter. It was there to show how her death in PvP all that time ago really did have a heavy impact on him and is still affecting him to this day.

Instead of continuing to pretend that everything is A-okay, like he had done for most of Volume 7, he finally lets his true feelings about how it come out to Penny for what is quite likely the first time. Even going so far as to say "Are you asking me to go through that again?" when she offers to take the risk of trying to lift Amity with her power. He wants Penny to be able to live her life.

This entire scene with Pietro established “this is what will likely happen” even if circumstances are much different now, it doesn’t negate the fact that this is a key part of Penny’s story. Scenes like these have a purpose beyond simply making an eventual death all the more heart wrenching. Her never actually getting to live her life makes those scenes basically moot. It makes them effectively pointless from narrative point of view. Unless there's more to it.

Building Relationship:

The build up between Ruby and Penny the last two volumes has been absolutely phenomenal with a definite destination in mind, and this doesn’t feel like that destination. So much of the arc of this season was to help Penny. This girl that our main protagonist absolutely adores and treasures, it would just be awful to throw all of that out for what amounts to an avoidable end. Why use so much of their precious and very limited runtime on deliberately building up this relationship only to end it abruptly, and permanently, when they’re separated?

In my opinion, RT is definitely smarter now than to intentionally set up what was really looking like a budding gay relationship only to kill one of them for good. If N&D wasn't actually going in a romantic direction, why would they leave in all of the romance-adjacent stuff that they got, that's not how ‘just friends’ act. And that is not something you use such valuable time building up for absolutely no pay off whatsoever...

Representation of Hope:

At its core, RWBY has always been about hope. It’s not at the forefront the whole time, but there's been an underlying theme of hopefulness that has persisted since it began. Some describe the show as a Hopepunk, I personally find this to describe RWBY really well. This genre of storytelling is about caring for things deeply and the courage and strength it takes to do so. It’s about never submitting or accepting the way things are. Fighting for what you believe in and standing up for others. RWBY fits all of this extremely well. How does this relate to Penny? She has been shown to be a sign of hope for everyone, but especially for Ruby, the main main protagonist. A prerequisite for a Hopepunk story is the hope.

Her first death in V3 was something that fundamentally changed Ruby. For the first time in the series, we see our main character all but broken by this event. With the loss of Penny, immediately afterwards, Ruby’s hope followed. She made up for it through determination and force of will. We see it affect her multiple times throughout the journey to Volume 7. But upon her return in V7, Hope reached a high point for everyone, the sheer relief on Ruby’s face is plain to see!

In V8 chapter 5 ‘Amity’, Penny literally raises hope by lifting the arena into the sky so Ruby could spread her message. And when she falls, and Amity with her, the connection is lost and hope plummets again. From there things take a very negative turn with the hack begins to take Penny’s agency.

In chapter 11 ’Risk’ is the point in the arc where everyone is reunited for the moment, so two separate hero stories are no longer a thing at that point in time. For the time being focus seemed to be shifted to care about the characters and how they’re going to solve the current problems. This is also where Ruby reaches her lowest emotional point in the season.

It’s not huge, but it’s interesting how connected this is. Before Ruby and Yang share a good cry over learning the possible fate of Summer, Yang brings up restoring optimism and hope to Ruby after the younger sister storms out of the room in frustration. This is where Penny’s scenes take up the rest of the episode. Getting Penny back in control of her own body and safe again is what makes the ending of the episode much brighter, when just 5 minutes before Ruby had been distraught and scared. This then spills over into the group coming up with the plan to use the staff, putting the main group in a much better mood. Of all the things to go right, it’s interesting that it’s Penny.

Things go wrong with the plan in the end and Penny dies. I find it interesting that once again, Penny got them hopeful in their chances of doing something right. Given said plan succeeded but at the cost of Penny of all people, Penny is shown to be the beginning and end of hope for them

The highest and lowest points for hope seem to directly correlate to when Penny’s around. When she comes back again, hope will return too, just like it had before. And because she’ll likely be back for good this time, the second return will probably be close to when Ruby is nearing the complete abandonment of hope. This would be pretty par for the course of the show honestly.

A little aside, but in a sense, Penny also represents Unity. The CCT in Vale fell after her first death, knocking out global communications and the unifying connection it gave. When it was restored for the briefest moment, she was there. Her body connected so she could allow for its launch, her soul lighting the night to hold up Amity with every ounce of her strength. So of course when the Hack succeeds and she falls, she takes global comms down again with her. At a smaller scale - even at the Hack's second last attempt to control her, she draws everyone in the Schnee Manor together. At the start of the volume, Yang states the one thing that they all agree on is not surrendering Penny.

Unity seems appropriate for one whose first song and wish was for but one friend, who would go on to find so many more in the process, and permit for a moment the possibility of all Remnant becoming friends once more. Where she first died, the name of the episode devoted to her story - Amity, "friendship", from the Latin root amicus, "friend" - she almost lives and dies with the very possibility of a united Remnant. It's no wonder she's a priority target for Salem, the great divider, and it seems natural that her next restoration may very well allow the next bid to bring the world together.

The Void Screams:

Moments after Penny's death, we hear a weird scream in the void space. It was a guttural, pained, angry scream, almost like the void space itself was crying out. All the portals shuddered and flickered when it happened.

Some think that this scream was Salem returning, but that happens earlier than Penny’s death, her return is signaled with cinder's arm acting up. We know this because after the arm finished flailing uncontrollably, Cinder said triumphantly "she's back." If it were Salem screaming, it would have happened after she fixed herself, but it didn't.

And I doubt Cinder would have been surprised or unsettled by it considering she was happy Salem returned not long before it. And why would a Salem scream affect the portals anyway, she has no connection to the staff or it's magic.

Another thing to consider is the fact sound is not transmitted through the portals. Otherwise, they would've heard Oscar and the rest calling for them, or the screams of the citizens of Mantle and Atlas. This lowers the possibility of that scream being from Salem even further.

The sound really seems to be coming from something else entirely within the void, and that something is not at all happy. There’s also the fact that Penny was the only person who died in the void space, everyone else was just thrown out of it like Ruby and Co. The only logical cause to me is Penny. Her body was a product (or byproduct) of the same creation magic that made the void space, her blood seems to have been a trigger.

Now I can't be sure about it, but this makes me feel like Penny is almost a part of creation itself? For whatever this thing is to be so angry, that is the only explanation I can think of currently. But all of this could possibly relate to the Narnia allusion of 'the willing victim killed in a traitor's stead' that others have brought up, which will be covered next.

Narnia Parallels:

Atlas has several parallels and references to fictional places (putting aside real world ones like the United States). One of those is that of Narnia, both on the surface and on a deeper level. It is a land of winter year round, where people struggle to survive and there is a present divide between those loyal to the current Monarch and those who are not. James is a parallel to Jadis, the White Witch, a ruler whose thoughts and cares aren’t exactly centered around the actual well being of the people. The hologram table in Ironwood’s office is designed to look like stone, like the Stone Table which features prominently in the Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe. He has a handpicked cadre of special agents/secret police, like how Maugrim and his wolves served Jadis. Another key parallel is how Jadis’s winter sets in to oppress and kill everyone in Narnia, but the Witch provides aid and protection to her loyal followers. She has all the power to spare harm to others, and uses it only for the loyal. As soon as Mantle splits from James and Atlas, no care is taken to protect them from the cold of Solitas even though he has every ability to turn the heating grid back on. His protection is only for the loyal.

Now that the parallel is established, let's look into the details. Starting with how James plays the role of Jadis.

"I had forgotten that you are only a common boy. How should you understand reasons of State? You must learn, child, that what would be wrong for you or for any of the common people is not wrong in a great Queen such as I. The weight of the world is on our shoulders. We must be freed from all rules. Ours is a high and lonely destiny." These are the words Jadis says in the Magician’s Nephew to justify the blood civil war she and her sister had waged for rulership of Charn, before she came to Narnia. She won that war, technically, but only after the last battle had been lost and her sister had marched right up to her so that they were face to face. Jadis’s troops were dead, her followers had surrendered, and the capital was under full control of her sister. But, she still had one card, one ultimate play to win and prove the throne of Charn was rightfully her. The Deplorable Word, a piece of old magic that killed everyone and everything except for her on Charn. It was monstrous, senseless, cruel beyond measure. But it got her that hollow victory. This mindset, the disregard for the people except as tools for her own will, the ultimate ‘aoe’ destructive move that no one had even considered her using, the unwillingness to stop even when by all practical measures the war is over, is a shocking parallel to James. In many ways, he is Jadis in mindset and deed.

Then there is the shared desire for A Thing that both James and Jadis have. For James it’s the Winter Maiden and control over her. For Jadis it’s the Silver Apples from the Tree of Youth. And funnily enough, the Maiden Powers parallel the Apples quiet well. These apples grant power and a life of eternal beauty, but should not be taken or eaten on one’s own initiative. They must be given, a gift granted by another, or only suffering will come from obtaining them. "For the fruit always works — it must work — but it does not work happily for any who pluck it at their own will. If any Narnian, unbidden, had stolen an apple and planted it here to protect Narnia, it would have protected Narnia. But it would have done so by making Narnia into another strong and cruel empire like Charn, not the kindly land I mean it to be.” Jadis’s immortality, and some of her power, come from the fact that she ate an Apple of her own will after stealing her way into the garden where the Tree of Youth had been planted. She gained the eternal life she had wanted and the power along with it, but she did so by taking it and was cursed because of it. Her skin turned pale and her lips blackened as if she were a frozen corpse given life. She will be trapped in a life of misery and hate according to Aslan- oh hey Cinder, how’s having stolen the Power you always wanted working out for you? Cinder had the power she wanted, but she only got hungrier, eager to claim more and increase her might. But in her pursuit she was defeated and humiliated by Raven, had to steal her way out of Mistral, and then suffered defeat after defeat while in Atlas. Only in the end, when she didn’t keep pursuing the Maiden Power, did she get any kind of victory.

The reason these parallels to Narnia are so important is one of the most famous events of the series. The cracking of the Stone Table and the rebirth of Aslan after his death. ‘When a willing victim who had committed no treachery was killed in a traitor's stead, the Table would crack and Death itself would start working backward.’ Well, the ‘Stone Table’ in James’s office has cracked, and Penny strikes me as a pretty willing victim. She has never actually committed any actual treachery or harm, as she was the Protector of Mantle, and fought for its and Atlas’s people until the very end. And because of her death, the actual traitor, Winter, who loyally served James until he had gone too far, was saved. Through Penny’s self sacrifice, Winter was saved. So now Death itself will start working backward.

(Major props to my friend @catontheweb for writing this section, I was getting nowhere with it, if they weren't there this part wouldn't exist!)

Norse Mythology:

The tree we see in the post credit scene gives off some serious Yggdrasil vibes. Also called the World Tree, it is essentially all of creation in Norse Mythology. It connects all nine realms, including the God realms of Asgard, the human realm of Midgard, and the underworld of Hel.

Humans are born from the branches of Yggdrasil. The web of Wyrd is woven for every person once they're born, and their path is set from there regardless of how many times the souls cycle over. But at the end, they're destined to end up in one of the worlds, for a myriad of reasons.

I believe Penny landed closest to this giant tree. She was on the center platform in the void space, so if that space is directly above the island(?) the tree is on, it makes sense for her to fall by the center nearest to the tree. This would not only open up all kinds of possibilities for the volume in general, but it would also create options for Penny.

The whole of Yggdrasil’s representations fit well into Penny’s story. Birth, growth, death and rebirth. We can count Penny’s appearance in V7 as birth for now, her growth is all her development in leaving =the military and becoming a Maiden, her death just happened, and her rebirth would be her revival. And this is a cycle she’s gone through before.

The Norse god Odin and Yggdrasil have quite a connection. In one story, Odin cut out one of his own eyes to gain knowledge from a pool underneath Yggdrasil. The only one that fell whose eyes alone are incredibly significant to the story was Ruby. So, they could choose to have her allude to Odin by having Ruby make some kind of deal with whatever entity likely rules over this magical place. An eye for Penny’s life.

There’s another story about Odin, Yggdrasil and the pursuit of knowledge. Odin so loved knowledge, that he sacrificed himself in a quest to learn the deeper magic of runes. It was believed one could only learn the magic spells from runes in death. So, Odin hung himself on Yggdrasil for nine days as an offering, and teetered between life and death. After he mastered the last spell on the ninth night, he ritually died and all light was extinguished from the world. Odin’s death lasted until midnight, when he was reborn and light returned to the world.

This story doesn’t fit Penny perfectly, but allusions often don’t. So If she really did land near the tree, she could be another loose representation of Odin’s story here. What she did wasn’t for knowledge, but to save her friends and keep Cinder from getting the Winter Maiden power. She believed it necessary that she sacrifice herself to achieve this end. As we established, Penny represents Hope, so her death means the loss of hope. This parallels Odin’s story of his death meaning the loss of light itself. So if this theory holds up, it would make this death temporary, until her rebirth and the return of Hope with her once again.

Alternatively, Ruby has the potential of loosely representing Odin in this story as well. Odin later uses the knowledge of the runes to do many things, but the most relevant one right now is awakening the dead. Both of these stories are about making a personal sacrifice to gain something that is desired. Ruby would absolutely make such sacrifices if it meant saving Penny.

It is said that Odin lived “according to his highest will unconditionally, accepting whatever hardships arise from that pursuit, and allowing nothing, not even death, to stand between him and the attainment of his goals." This sounds like Penny's arc of accepting the WM powers. This is more just a general connection between Penny and Odin, but I found it interesting.

Side Note: I encourage anyone who’s interested to look into RWBY connections to Norse Myth, there’s a surprising amount of things that feel eerily similar to the show. Likely just coincidental, but it’s fun to think about!

(If I got any of this wrong, I sincerely apologize by the way. I researched as best I could, but I admit it could have been lacking.)

Ambrosius and the Staff:

Ruby told Ambrosius "we kinda wanna keep her around longer than that" as part of her very specific instructions. Then Penny died about ten to fifteen minutes, at the absolute most thirty minutes later in-universe. I don’t know about you, but to me that seems very short to be considered ‘longer than that’. Technically it is, but when writing a story and a character says something like that, you typically don’t just kill the character they were referring to basically right away. It makes sense for a week-by-week watch, but in a volume binge, which many viewers do, it becomes ironic how fast Penny dies after being removed from her robotic body.

The first time we see the staff of creation being used, it's to save Penny. Using the staff of creation to help Penny is a sign of how incredibly important she is.

They’ve even got this entire transformation sequence for her, so it wouldn’t make sense for them to throw all that away two episodes later. In a meta context, it’s a massive waste of time and budget considering the asset creation for Penny.

Penny is a character who has already hopped bodies two times. And now we're supposed to just believe that this time it really is a final death? Just two episodes after we were explicitly told her body isn't what matters, that "Her soul is who she is" and that "the mechanical parts are just extra"? From a writing perspective, it feels strange, like your breaking a promise right after making it. And frankly, CRWBY is better than that, which makes me think this is not the actual end for her.

A possible connection between Penny, Ruby, and the Staff (thus Creation) can be seen in the intro. As Ruby is falling and being dragged down into the darkness, she is shown reaching for the staff. In the void space, Penny is the one with the relic. So with Penny having this strong connection to Creation, and the lyrics “fight for every life” playing as Ruby reaches for the staff, it’s a safe assumption to make, with the knowledge we now have, that the Staff of Creation represents Penny in this particular moment. Which could mean that V9 will be about, at least partially, fighting for Penny’s life.

Musical Hints:

In terms of music, Friend, as a song for Penny, is very dissonant from the episode itself. The song is oddly cheerful for Penny’s recent untimely death, and it overall highlights the wrong parts of death. It’s simply too happy to be a song about losing one of the most, if not the most joyous characters in the entire show. The song also abruptly ends. There’s no outro, and while this could symbolize the fact that Penny died young, it could be that the song itself is unfinished in a story sense.

What do we hear just before the song finishes, though? A progression of notes that sounds eerily similar to the last line of the opening of Volume 8. The notes for “Fight for ev’ry life” and “Who fin’lly felt alive'' share a similar melodic structure, they aren’t perfect clones of each other, but they are incredibly similar, to the point where it seems intentional. Penny may very well be the life that the opening song is fighting for. It is also worth noting that the line “Fight for every life” comes just after “Sometimes it’s worth it all to risk the fall,” which is the exact wording used for the description in the Volume 8 finale. Team RWBY risked the fall, yet, strangely the opposite of fighting for every life happened with Penny’s sacrifice. Perhaps the time to fight for every life has yet to happen, and we will see it come Volume 9.

For another thing, the lyrics for Friend are entirely centered on Penny’s feelings for Ruby, to the point where they read very much like a bittersweet love song. The music itself is incredibly cheerful, as mentioned previously, creating a mood whiplash with the end of the volume. Why would we hear a song about Penny’s feelings for Ruby, sounding like a love song, if her death is supposed to be a tragic sacrifice akin to Pyrrha’s? The song may very well be giving a clue into its future use in the show proper.

If this was meant to be a good bye song, why make it so cheerful and romantic sounding? There's only one part about her dying and even then, it's just too accepting and goes right back into cheerfulness. The song is also pretty hopeful, telling Penny's story in a fairly chronological order. And the part where she talks about sacrifice is quite pointedly followed up by one about feeling alive. It also ends with the super cheerful chorus, the word "alive" being the last... (Remember the episode title: The Final Word)

(I want to thank my friend @shadow-0f-x for writing the majority of this section! I was struggling to choose how to tackle it as I am not well versed in music theory.)

What We Didn’t See:

It is likely that Penny understood Jaune's semblance better than him and figured something out about it’s abilities in the same way that she understood Ruby's semblance better than her. She had plenty of time to observe his semblance up close as he boosted her aura to stave off the virus. Because of that intentionally timed cutaway in the finale, we don’t get to hear her explain herself after her strained “Trust me.” All of that seems really suspicious to me.

Pyrrha Parallel:

Pyrrha and Penny both sacrificed themselves to stop or stall Cinder. Jaune tried to convince the both of them to stop. With Pyrrha, he failed, while with Penny he actively helped her sacrifice herself. Doesn’t make sense for the guy who was determined not to let anyone else do what Pyrrha did, unless of course Penny assured him she’d be alright.

The Moment:

RT including the suicide hotline in the description shows that they're aware that Penny basically committed assisted suicide, seeing it as a noble sacrifice worth doing to save her friends. They're aware, and I believe they're smart enough to condemn that decision to hell and back.

The best way to do that in my opinion is to pull her back into the land of the living and let her witness first hand the consequences of throwing her life away so freely. This would show Penny how her actions affected others so maybe she could learn to truly value herself. To not think herself expendable. It would be bold and unwise to portray this choice as something good, unless it was going to be called upon later and be pointed out for how horrible it really is.

On top of this, Penny was way too content with her death, happy even. There's no way team RWBY is letting her stay content with it. It’s almost as though we're supposed to join Ruby and Co. in calling bullshit on what Penny is saying and doing because no, Penny, this is not how things are meant to work. It's as if Penny was basically saying "I want to die for my friends" because most of the volume had been about everyone else making sure she didn't die. She knows it will hurt them. She knows.

At the peak of it all, a choice like this will totally destroy Ruby. It may very well be her breaking point for Volume 9. Curiously, the moment itself is written like it’s the first choice Penny’s ever made, yet the entire Volume shows this isn’t the case. However, this is the first choice that Penny’s made solely independently and it’s rather pertinent that the choice she makes is a mistake. Outside of giving Winter the Maiden gift and saving the day temporarily, this sacrifice will not have any lasting positive effects. Jaune will be saddled with the grief of killing Penny. Ruby will have to live with losing her best friend and not being able to protect her a second time, and Winter now has the burden of the Winter Maiden abilities, making her a target of Cinder. This is a bad thing, and Penny needs to see the long term consequences.

Transfer of Power:

As we all know, colors in RWBY are really important and get a lot of focus in the show. That means the yellow we see as Penny gives Winter the Maiden Powers was intentional and likely important, no matter how insignificant it may seem. It’s possible that the transfer effect being yellow could have something to do with Jaune’s semblance. When Fria gave the power to Penny, the effect was very much blue, so this transfer should have been green since she was the one giving it this time. The weirdness of this transfer and the focus on color in RWBY really makes it look like something’s up with how that went down.

A little off topic, but Penny saying "I won't be gone, I'll be part of you." makes me think... Winter is smart, so when she gets time to think about what Penny said, maybe she'll arrive at the same question many in the audience came to; if she's literally part of Winter, can they be separated again? If Winter starts questioning that, the possibility of Penny coming back just skyrockets.

Fria actually tells Penny "I'll be gone" before giving her powers up, which is an interesting contrast to Penny telling Winter "I won't be gone". She may have gotten that line from Winter be all philosophical in V7, saying Fria was now a part of Penny, but it hits differently coming from an actual Maiden. S5o it’s possible that Maidens usually actually will be gone, but Jaune's semblance did something to change that.

This could go well with the theory that they won't need to find an aura transfer machine, or build another one, because Jaune will have a semblance evolution allowing him to do the transfer instead. It might actually be that this evolution already happened and the golden light we saw was Jaune transferring penny's aura to Winter in some way?

An observation that I find interesting is when Penny gives winter the powers, not only is the aura yellow but penny completely glows yellow too, and she obviously starts to disappear, but she doesn’t seem to fully disappear, she just glows.

It's possibly a fading out effect and she does fully fade but animation makes bright light easier, and so we don't actually see her disappear because she's dead and not gone. But it does once again emphasize the color yellow here!

And the color is coming from Penny, it does go up Winter's arm a bit, but Penny is clearly the source. This transfer is so weird and I’m not really sure how to interpret it. There's just actually no reason that we are aware of to make the effect yellow here is the thing. Unless it has something to do with either Jaune or Ambrosius, or potentially a combination of both...

Jaune’s Aura:

The way we see Jaune's aura break in the finale is strange. His aura shouldn't be breaking here. It had been long enough since he was boosting Penny, he's had time to recharge, and it didn't look like it was a strain on him at all. Plus, we know he has a lot of aura, so there probably wasn't too much to recharge in the first place.

He has a massive amount of aura, it has never broken before as far as I remember. Even if it has though, that doesn’t make this occurrence any less odd. It should absolutely never be a one-hit KO. We didn't see anything that would've drained it, that should not have been enough to break his aura. Unless he did something - something that would require a huge amount of aura - that we just didn't see. That amount of aura drain is far more than just an attempt at healing would do, Jaune absolutely did something with his semblance that took up almost all of his aura.

Pinocchio Allusion:

As any Penny fan knows, her character allusion is Pinocchio, the puppet who became a real boy. Penny deviates from the allusion by having always been a real girl, as Ruby is quick to point out, but she shares many story beats with her original story including multiple deaths. In the original story, Pinocchio dies from being hung by his own strings due to his poor decision making and he dies. Sounds a little familiar, does it not? This is where his tale originally ended. Readers were unsatisfied with this ending however, so the author decided to change the story by reviving Pinocchio and teaching him to be more careful.

Unlike Pinocchio making all the wrong decisions, Penny often makes the right ones, or ones she thinks is right, when concerning others. While usually a good thing, this has meant Penny almost giving herself up multiple times during V8, her last attempt being successful. This is where Penny and Pinocchio begin to share similarities again. They are both very reckless when it concerns themselves. This carelessness comes from different places, but it ends with the same result of them endangering their lives and even sometimes losing them.

In the Disney movie, Pinocchio dies by drowning after going to rescue Geppetto and washes up on the shore (like the beach in V8’s post credit scene). His father is devastated and takes him home to grieve, but as a reward for his selflessness in rescuing his father, the Blue Fairy returns and brings him back to life, as well as granting him humanity. Penny sacrificed her life as well, and it stands to reason that she should be rewarded for it, much like her allusion was.

Penny got her maiden powers from someone with blue aura and then gave her powers to someone with blue aura. So it could be that not only Ambrosius, but Fria and Winter as well represent the Blue Fairy. It could be set up for Winter helping to bring Penny back to life once more. It’s an out there theory I admit, but it’s not outright impossible either. The Blue Fairy in Pinocchio saved him three times that I know of, so RWBY having three representations does make sense.

Geppetto wished for him to live as a real boy, but it depended on what path Pinocchio took. This is very reminiscent of Penny and Pietro. Pietro wants to see her live her life, and surely with him absent in V8C14 that didn't work, despite Penny choosing. Her father did not see her happy enough to live her life, and will only be able to learn her death through others. But Pinocchio's themes were life and being alive. So the likelihood that this is not her end yet is quite high!

A Girl That Fell Through the World:

Penny could be the girl who fell through the world. The girl in the story fled the consequences of a choice. The only person who chose her ultimate fate was Penny. The others were pushed into the void, but she chose to die. The consequence of her choice is Ruby’s grief first and foremost, which Penny won’t see. The girl who fell through the world does come back though, and the world will be changed severely with Penny’s absence. Alternatively, it could also be Penny coming back to Wonderland or wherever they currently are, as long as it’s unrecognizable to her.

What Returning Brings:

Others might say another return would have no story relevant purpose, but I wholeheartedly disagree. Penny gives a profoundly youthful, joyous, and wondrous outlook on the world and story that we hadn't seen since Ruby in Volumes 1-3(not the end), Penny returning would bring a much needed levity back in after the despair they will undoubtedly be going through. While not necessarily a huge thing in most other shows, for RWBY, a show largely about keeping up hope, an ounce of such relief is a necessity.

As much as I hate saying it, Penny’s death does actually make some narrative sense because she had to pass on the Maiden powers. (They could have done this in a number of ways, and I personally think they chose rather poorly, but I digress.) Throughout this whole volume, we can see Penny seemingly being set up to join the main cast, but would have been too strong with the powers. This also accomplishes ridding her of the burden of responsibility that comes with being a Maiden and lets her obtain the freedom that’s so important to her character.

Once she returns, seeing this grief that her actions caused, particularly to Ruby, will get her to realize more that her actions can have serious repercussions. She made a choice, but that choice hurt the people she loves. She must have known that it would but I’m not sure she ever realized just how much.

I didn’t want this post to be heavy in the shipping department, so I largely left it out, but I am going to say this one thing that could have an impact. If Nuts & Dolts is on its way to being canon, which this volume makes it feel highly likely, this could be a catalyst.

It could prompt an arc for the both of them in which Penny learns to live her life fighting for her loved ones, rather than sacrificing it for them. A relationship could potentially start from there. And Ruby seeing Penny learn these things may also help her to stop doing the occasional but very dangerous and reckless things she does. Ruby witnessing Penny coming to terms with what she did to the people that care about her would actually make her stop to think “wait, is this how everyone else would feel if I got myself killed?” That would be a very important moment of character growth for her.

I’m certain there are other significant things that Penny returning can bring to the show. And there are definitely more sections I could add to this. At this point though, assuming anyone even made it this far, I think I’ve been going long enough already. So let’s just roll into the outro!

As painful and hopeless as it seems, I'm choosing to trust them with this because there is absolutely no way they didn't see backlash coming. The way this finale went makes me think that they calculated for backlash and aren’t jumping into something they don’t have a plan to recover from. Whether this trust is unfounded or not remains to be seen, but I don’t think it is currently. I do think, however, that the cause of this backlash was a major misstep. Now that it has happened though, they have a chance to do something good with it.

I know for a lot of you, trust in CRWBY has been damaged, some even irreparably so. And for those that feel this way, I don’t blame you. My trust in them took a hit too, but isn’t broken completely yet. There are many ways that they can bring her back that would make sense with the narrative, they have the ability to make it right, and after going over all of the hints and general weirdness of things many times, I think they will.

I'm feeling pretty confident now and I really didn't expect that to happen at all to be honest. But discussing and theorizing with the discord server seriously helped get my hopes back up surprisingly fast! It’s actually thanks to all of them that this gigantic post even happened! So thanks a ton my fellow Dolts! And a special thanks to!!

@arcana-amicus

@catontheweb

@cosmokyrin

@gaydontmesswithme224

@jammatown919

@shadow-0f-x

They really helped get this thing across the finish line!

And thank YOU for reading all~ of this! I sincerely wish it gave you some of the hope and confidence that I now have!

[jeonqqin]

man up. [m] | pt. 1

h. jisung x reader | netflix teen rom-com au

— ❝Even with classes, annoying brothers, and an unrequited crush, you still figured your first year of college was going pretty well. Until you managed to get your first boyfriend, and suddenly your brother and his stupidly attractive best friend were attached to your hip for the whole damn ride.

or alternatively;

Why did Jisung care about you so much, and had his eyes always been that pretty?❞

WORD COUNT: 4.8k

CONTAINS: brothers best friend au, teen rom-com au, sorta crack fic, love triangle au, college au

WARNING: language, eventual smut, minho is a little bitch

A/N: I pulled little tropes from pretty much every Netflix teen rom-com so if you see those little allusions then that’s why,, also I hope you all don’t mind that I made this into a series!

▸ request

CHAPTERS:  01 | 02 | 03 | 04 | 05 | 06 | 07 | 08 | 09 +

blog masterlist | ⟲ fic song

© jeonqqin 2020

Your eyes blurred over the words that were held out in front of you, every page harder to remember than the last. 

It was your fault you were in the library studying during lunch period. You were the one that decided to procrastinate after all. But you also had no idea what was going to be on the exam in your statistics class. How could you start studying when you had no idea what you were meant to be studying? At least, that was your genius excuse for not touching your statistics book all week.

Resting your head on your hand, your eyes briefly wandered off of your book and directly up into a pair of pretty brown ones. They were already looking at you; gaze intense and flirty. It had you quickly looking back down at your book on instinct, this time without the intention of actually reading anything. 

No way. 

The boy sitting directly across from you was cute—no doubt about that. It was hard to disregard just how pretty he was with his classic big brown eyes and flat brown hair. At least, you couldn’t ignore him when he was clearly looking at you. Peeking up to make sure you weren’t seeing things, you caught his gaze again. And as his lip quirked up, you knew it wasn’t just a coincidence—he was deliberately looking at you. A childish giddiness flooded your stomach at the realization. 

He smiled at you; charming and sweet. 

“Do you know anything about political science?”

It took you a second to process what he asked, but you eventually shook your head with a smile. “D’you know anything about the statistics exam next Wednesday?”

He shrugged playfully. “Not a clue.”

“Well, it looks like we’re in the same boat then.”

“Utterly screwed by the school system?”

Snorting loudly, you instantly received an unhappy glare from the librarian and a followed up hush. An apology was on the tip of your tongue, but with the newfound fear of making another noise, you opted to send her a timid wave. Neither you nor the cute stranger moved until she returned to her book. But then he was slinking over and taking the seat beside you. 

You could’ve squealed—imagine being such a teenage girl that you were so ecstatic to sit next to a cute guy. You were practically bouncing in your seat. 

“At least I know that there’s someone else who can understand my worries,” he whispered, turning in his chair to face you completely. 

You scoffed, eyeing the librarian for a moment before blinking back at the boy in front of you. 

“Yeah right. You could ask the entire student body and they would all reply in one collective groan.” 

“You’re not wrong there.” He hummed. “Thanks for not making me feel like a complete loser for procrastinating.”

“Oh, you’re still a loser for procrastinating,” you said, attempting to hold back your smile as he looked at you with a raised brow. “You’re just not the only one now.”

He made a playful noise of anguish, nodding his head with a silent laugh. “Ouch. That hurts coming from a mystery girl.”

You shrugged coyly, letting him take that as your answer before you leaned back against your palm. 

“Maybe,” he paused for a moment, glancing around to the occupied librarian and continuing, “After classes, we could go out for coffee. Y’know—to get better acquainted. Unless you wanted me to keep calling you ‘mystery girl’.”

You pretended to weigh your options in your head, eyes flicking up towards the ceiling and an uncontrollable smile slipping onto your lips. 

You were getting asked out. And every possible thing was going right; he was cute, he was witty, there was a connection, there were no interruptions—

“Are you free at six?”

Your mouth opened to reply a quick “yes”, but suddenly there were a set of hands landing firmly on your shoulders and you could feel the familiar brush of soft hair against your cheek. 

“No sir, she is not free.” 

The subtly stern voice of your brother replied, and the color of the stranger's face in front of you went pale as his eyes darted between you and the intruder beside you. “But thanks for asking.”

“Sorry, Minho—man, I didn’t know she was your girlfriend. I swear.” Came the panicked reply. 

You winced, expression going sour as the apologies flew out of the boy’s mouth at a rapid pace. 

“Sister.” Minho corrected, a sickeningly sweet smile plastered on his face that read disaster. 

And then after a few more unsettling glares and passive-aggressive comments from your older brother, the guy was gone, his head lowered to his chest. You had seen worse. There had been many more that happened to end in bruises and a visit from campus security, so a little humiliation wasn’t so terrible. 

But fucking hell—there goes another one. 

“You need to stop doing that,” you said, swiping all your books into your bag as your brother watched the poor soul leave the library with satisfaction. 

Minho scoffed. “What? Weeding out the losers that run at a little sign of conflict?” He tisked patronizingly. “Do you really want to be in a relationship with someone who pisses themselves because your brother was being a little protective? I’m not going to be here forever, and who will be the one to watch out for you then? Certainly not Mr. Are-You-Free-At-Six.”

A heavy sigh left your lips. You had heard his speech before and you had been infuriated. But after years of the same response and lecture, you grew numb to the feeling of anger towards your brother. 

“Who said I even needed protecting?”

“Me. I’m your big brother, I know what’s best for you.” He replied curtly, grabbing your bag from your shoulder and slinging it over his own. 

You scowled, following him as he charmingly waved at the librarian on your way out. She chuckled under her breath and fluttered her fingers towards Minho, absolutely no intention of even glancing at you. Minho was a very likable person. He had always been able to use his endless pool of charisma to get on anyone’s good side, and that had opened up many opportunities for him. 

Unfortunately, your brother had many sides to him, and one of them had manifested from his obsessive need to keep you away from any and all possible danger in life. That part of him was what had every guy running for the hills. 

You were a freshman in college, and every relationship you had was ruined, courtesy of your older brother. 

The two of you merged into the crowded halls filled with unrushed university students, several people greeting Minho with friendly gestures that you couldn’t keep up with. It was as if no one even saw you—you supposed that was also Minho’s fault.

“I have class now,” you huffed, tugging your bag from his shoulder and nearly making him stumble into a wall. “Okay? Am I allowed to continue my education, oh great brother of mine?”

Minho made a mocking face in your direction. “Haha. Very funny, young lady. Now don’t go seducing any more good-for-nothing’s while I’m gone. Got it?”

“I’m going to kill you one of these days.”

Minho snorted, spinning on his heel towards the direction of his own class. 

“And I’ll be waiting with open arms, little sister!”

“Eat shit, Minho!”

With a visible bounce in his step he disappeared behind the corner, supposedly heading to his next class, but you knew it was just a matter of time before he would get sidetracked and distracted along the way. He was always excited to see you around campus, seeing you—his baby sister—just made his day better. 

Generally, you found yourself smiling after a good interaction with your brother, but then he would go and pull the ‘protective brother’ card and suddenly you had the urge to rip his throat out. Minho knew you were growing up and pretty soon his intrusions wouldn’t be seen as just a nuisance, and they would turn into more of an invasion of your personal life. But you could see how much that realization hurt him, so you held back. 

You settled into your seat as one of the first people in the lecture hall, watching as your professor rubbed his eyes and set up the slides for the class. 

On your second day of class, your professor had snapped at one of the students for being late for his lecture, and it scared the shit out of you. The next day he apologized and used the excuse of being hungover and hungry, and it opened your eyes to the fact that you weren’t in high school anymore. You were surrounded by adults—careless and irresponsible adults, granted, but they were old enough to understand your professor’s woes. 

Still, you would never find yourself arriving late, just in case you caught him on one of his bad days. 

“Y/n,” 

The cheery voice startled you out of your stupor. 

“Good morning, my darling.”

Your eyes rolled back, though a smile still grew on your face. A fleeting thought ran through your head, you shouldn’t have been surprised, he did it every morning. You offered him a sparing glance as he stepped up to your seat, falling back into the uncomfortable chair beside you. 

“Hi, Jisung,” you chuckled as his arm swung around your shoulders. 

You decided to ignore the way the cut of his sleeves allowed you to get a glimpse of the muscle that was starting to form.

Han Jisung was your brother’s best friend, an annoying loud-mouth who was in too many of your classes for it to be a coincidence. He had been by Minho’s side for most of his life, and therefore, most of yours. And he flirted with you for as long as you could remember. 

Just as the majority of the students started to flood the hall, Jisung pulled an apple out of his bag, holding it out for you to take. 

“I noticed that you hadn’t gone to lunch with Felix today, and I figured since you’re looking berry cute today—” He grabbed your hand, placing the fruit into your palm. “Sorry. I didn't have any lines for apples.”

And the pickup lines—the many, many pickup lines.

“Really? Nothing?” You asked.

His head shook, eyes coy. 

You aided him, shaking the apple in front of his face, “You’re the apple of my eye?”

“Ah…” He nodded in realization, seemingly bummed for not thinking of that one before. But then suddenly a smirk flickered over his features and he was pinching your cheek, “I knew you were in love with me.”

You turned away from his grabbing hand, fighting back the urge to roll your eyes. His talent was finding a way to flirt with you, and at times you had wondered how he was so good at it. 

Practice made perfect, you guessed. 

You smiled. “Uh-huh.”

If you didn’t know any better, you would’ve thought he was in love with you—

“Hyunae told me to start eating more fruit, so she threw the apple into my bag when I wasn’t looking.”

—but Han Jisung had a girlfriend, and she was so much more than you could ever be. 

Not that you cared at all. 

“So you two are doing well?” You asked, feigning interest as you reached into your bag and pulled out your laptop. Maybe if you were stealthy enough you would be able to sneak in some studying while your professor went on about how traffic signs affected climate change—or whatever it was that he was talking about that week. 

No wonder why you had no idea what you were doing.

Jisung hummed, leaning back in his seat. “Yeah. She’s still bossy, but that’s just Hyunae.” 

“I heard she got into quite the discussion with Hyunjin this morning.”

You were swinging pretty low, but you weren’t the biggest fan of Hyunae to begin with, so there was a small part of you that enjoyed picking at the scabs she left behind. 

Okay, there was a pretty big part of you. 

“Don’t remind me,” he grunted. “One day their fights will end with murder. And it’ll be me who is found dead.” 

“Next time they get into an argument just slip away and let campus security deal with the mess. Let the bitches be bitches.” 

Your suggestion was in the form of a joke, but really, you meant every word. 

Hyunae easily rivaled Hyunjin’s bitchiness, and in your group of friends, that statement had weight to it. Not just anyone could argue with Hyunjin and step away unscathed, but she managed to do so just about every day. You would’ve been impressed had she ever shown you any kindness, but she hated you from day one. You were only returning the favor by rooting for Hyunjin until he somehow figured out how to kill someone with his words. 

He had come close before, so you kept your fingers crossed.

“Well that bitch is a goddess in bed,” Jisung snickered, his voice just loud enough for you to hear. “And frankly it’s hot when someone’s bossy during sex—”

“Are we talking about Hyunae or Hyunjin now?”

Jisung laughed sarcastically, throwing a sneer your way. “Bravo. You want a medal for the joke of the year?”

“Nah, I have plenty of better jokes that imply that you like boys.” You absentmindedly glanced back towards your professor as he began the lecture, his voice as uninterested as your gaze. “Though I have yet to make one about your secret relationship with my brother.”

Jisung nodded with fake enthusiasm and said, “That’s nice but I’m not listening to you anymore.”

“The girls on campus would pay big bucks for that sex tape.”

“Shut up before I throw up on you.”

“If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you didn’t like me.” You pouted half-assed, typing notes that you would never use solely because their only purpose was to make it seem like you cared. Though by the look of it, the professor probably gave less of a shit than you anyway. 

Jisung’s teasing and inappropriate comments hardly bothered you anymore, especially since you knew how to counter them with your own. 

“I don’t even know why I’m here,” he mused, though you both knew the reason why he was taking the class was because he needed the credits and the teacher didn’t care if you botched all of your tests as long as the final was double-spaced and had your name at the top. 

“Because I’m your favorite.” You whispered, lifting your pointer finger to your lips. “And don’t worry, I won’t tell Minho.”

“As if. Get your head out of your ass.” 

“Duly noted.”

You loved Jisung.

You loved him in the same way you loved your brother; you didn’t want to love him, but for whatever twisted reason, the universe made it so. Too bad you didn’t think of Jisung as a brother—the game of life was cruel that way. It sucked that he was such a good… everything. Han Jisung was a good friend, a good boyfriend, and annoyingly one of the best people you had ever met. 

Not that you would ever admit that to him and risk his head inflating to the size of Felix’s stuffed animal collection. 

Dammit, you really didn’t want to love that moron. 

Maybe you could get away with being in like with him instead.

“Y/n!”

Your head swiveled, just barely catching a flash of ridiculous purple hair before a hold on your wrist was stopping you mid-stride. 

“Owie,” was what came out of your mouth, your gaze set into a glare at your aggressor.

Though, Felix wasn’t fazed by your scowl. He was too excited—or pissed, it was hard to tell—about whatever he wanted to tell you. But knowing him, his news probably had something to do with the meme he posted on Twitter that morning—you did see it, and no, you weren’t very impressed. You expected better than the overused picture of the woman yelling at that cat at the dinner table. Caption be damned, that meme wasn’t even good anymore. 

Felix was followed by his shorter but considerably stronger lackey. Without even looking at him you already knew Changbin’s biceps were popping under the black shirt he wore, the whole aesthetic making him look way more intimidating than he was. 

“Where were you?” Felix asked, smacking your arm hard enough to gain your attention. “You didn’t meet us for lunch.”

“Maybe because I don’t appreciate your abuse.” 

“Haha. Seriously,” he griped, crossing his arms over his chest. “Why’d you ditch me?”

You had been friends with Felix for who knows how long, but you would never get used to how needy the boy was. You and your brother sure grabbed a couple of good ones. 

“I had to study.” You admitted with a huff, though you already knew your excuse wouldn’t be enough for Felix. 

“Okay, one—you never do that.” He countered before flashing you a look. “And two—liar.”

You set your gaze on Changbin for some support, but the boy simply avoided your eyes as his way of saying “you’re on your own here”.

You turned back to Felix with a groan. Changbin never helped you ever, the bastard. 

“Lix I have a dumb test in statistics next week and for whatever reason, all I can remember right now is that the SREB3 gene in zebrafish can cure cancer or something.”

“That has nothing to do with statistics—”

“And is also very wrong. Are you even paying attention in biology?” Changbin asked, his face scrunched up in a mix of confusion and disgust. 

You motioned to Changbin to prove your point. “Hence the reason why I was in the library.”

Felix suddenly tilted his head back and did that thing where he looked like he was trying to convince himself that living was worth it. 

He sighed. “Okay, I’m calling Seungmin—”

At his words, you all but shrieked, a hand swatting Felix’s shoulder instinctively.

Seungmin was a friend of Hyunjin’s, which indirectly made him a friend of yours. But the relationship between the two of you could only be classified as rocky considering he felt the need to tell you just how much he wanted to, and you quote, “throw a rock at your head”. Ironically enough, the feeling was mutual. 

But you would never say that to his face because that would most likely lead him to complete the task.

“You promised to never do that to me again!” You cried, throwing yourself against Felix’s boney shoulder. 

This time was Felix’s turn to look at Changbin and search for help, but he was met with the same passive reaction as you had received. Honestly, you didn’t know why anyone tried anymore. 

“He’s not that bad, Y/n.”

You gaped, disbelieving of your friend’s words. “You can’t be serious. He’s the devil! He preys on the weak, and then spits out their bones, Felix.”

“He tutored you once and you got a ninety-eight on your exam.”

“After hours of torture and anguish.” 

Felix gave you an unsympathetic look before plucking his phone from Changbin’s back pocket, “I’m calling him.”

With a glare, you folded your arms over your chest. “Remember this moment the next time you ask me to revise your Tinder bio.” 

“Joke’s on you. Changbin gives better advice and he doesn’t laugh at me.”

You snorted despite yourself. 

But before Felix could lift the phone to his ear, Changbin’s began to ring obnoxiously in his pocket, and you were ready to bow and praise whichever deity in the sky that decided to bless you with such luck. 

And like a child, you stuck out your tongue. 

“What’s up?” Changbin hummed, turning away from the two of you. “Did you get all of your stuff in the apartment yet…?”

Changbin and Minho were roommates and had been since Changbin was a freshman. The two worked well together in the sense that they were both loud as hell and could (and hopefully never will) sleep through a stampede of elephants in their living room. 

Felix slipped his phone into his pocket, unabashedly listening to the conversation just as you were. 

“They must’ve finally found someone interested in moving in.”

They had always talked about renting with someone else, but along with being the worst people to live with, the duo was picky as hell. Pigs would fly and snowballs would be living in hell the moment they let someone else move in with them. 

“Okay, but is Minho going to let you turn the office into a recording room?”

You froze, a remark on the tip of your tongue. 

Changbin was talking on the phone about recording—an activity that you knew for a fact that only two people in your life had ever taken part in—and moving into Minho and Changbin’s shared apartment. 

Now, you weren’t the brightest crayon in the box but connecting all the dots wasn’t too difficult. 

“Are you crazy?” 

Not only was the idea of Jisung moving into Minho’s apartment a terrible one, but it would also compromise the only place you could relax in peace. Your dorm was hell (for reasons you didn’t want to relive) and you weren’t allowed anywhere near the boys' dorm. You were currently on the RA’s shit-list ever since the misunderstanding that went down last semester—

Bad timing for a room check one night when you, Felix, and Hyunjin were in a compromising position.

If Jisung moved in with Minho, you would then be spending more time with him, and all the hard work you spent on keeping your distance would’ve been for nothing. You’d probably see his monster of a girlfriend around regularly as well, and you didn’t want to witness any of that in your lifetime. 

Time to welcome the snowballs to hell, because that was where you were headed. 

Hoisting your bag over your shoulder, you positioned yourself to run.

“Lix, I’m sorry but I have to go beat some sense into my brother! Maybe we can talk to Seungmin on a day when I feel like dying from blunt force trauma.”

You didn’t bother to wait for the yelling as you took off through the quad. 

The wind slapped you in the face the moment you were away from the cover of the university buildings, and you were suddenly second-guessing the escapade. Though, you simply chalked your reluctance up to laziness and continued forward. Minho’s apartment wasn’t far from the university, and after his little stunt in the library, you were looking forward to kicking his ass in the privacy of his home. 

You pulled your spare key from your bag as you finally approached the complex, eager to get away from the nipping wind. Because fuck you for wearing a t-shirt in forty-degree weather.

Pushing the door open, you threw your bag inside recklessly, “Minho, you flat-faced asshole. You tell me right now that Jisung isn’t your new—” 

But you screeched to a stop as your eyes locked onto someone who definitely wasn’t Minho. 

“Roommate.” 

You swallowed. 

A man with perfectly styled black hair and no sleeves on his shirt sat on your brother's couch, a pair of thick headphones covering his ears and a laptop resting on his thick thighs. His eyes darted up to meet your gaze as the door closed behind you, and a single brow raised as you stood in front him in a stupor. 

“Hello,” he pulled his headphones down to hang around his neck, cocking his head in amusement. “I am neither Minho nor Jisung, and I really hope I’m not a flat-faced asshole. Can I help you?” 

You floundered for a second, mouth open. “I mean—I was looking for my brother. Changbin was on the phone with their new roommate, and I just assumed…”

“You thought that Jisung was his new roommate?” He snickered, carefully placing his labeled laptop onto the couch and lifting to his feet. 

You were tempted to hang your head in shame and leave with your confidence shattered. But his attractive gaze was enough to convince you to stay put. 

“Unfortunately, yes.”

“Well,” the stranger’s expression softened, his hand reaching forward. “I’m Chan. Your brother’s new roommate.”

You gave his hand a quick glance before taking it. 

“I’m Y/n.”

“Nice to meet you.”

New roommate: not as terrible as you expected it to be. 

The more you looked at him, the more you wanted to tell him how beautiful he was. Though you would have to be delusional to actually admit that out loud to a complete stranger, it was surprisingly tempting. 

And… you were still holding his hand. 

“Oh, uh—sorry.”

Releasing his grip, you laughed awkwardly, feeling the heat rise up your face and engulf your ears. 

Damn your brother and his affinity for making friends with every gorgeous person that crossed his path. He was going to kill you eventually, between his protectiveness that shattered your social life and all his model-like friends that continued to claw their way into your heart. 

A pleasant beat of silence passed between the two of you while you both took a second to consider each other. Chan wasn’t your conventionally beautiful person like Hyunjin, nor was he completely rough around the edges like Changbin. His hair was a bit wild, possibly due to the lack of product, but it was combed through and hung around his eyes nicely. A stark contrast from the gelled and styled boy you had been infatuated with.

Your eyes fell onto the coffee table between you, neck growing warm as you realized your thoughts had drifted back to Jisung, even with such an attractive stranger standing right in front of you.

You shut your eyes, stilling yourself as you took in a deep breath.

“So…” you drawled, avoiding his amused gaze. “Recording, huh?”

That settled it, you were an idiot. 

Chan snorted out loud, finding your innocent question cute.

“I’m a producer.” Chan supplied, shifting closer to you in order to lean against the couch. “I haven’t been able to record my own songs for a while though. That’s why I’ve been trying to convince Minho to let me turn his office into a recording room. I have all the soundproof padding and everything, all I need is to guilt-trip him into letting me put it up.”

You nodded in understanding, glancing over towards the not so office that Minho was currently using as a storage room. 

If anyone was ever surprised by the number of bundles he had in his room, they would drop dead at the sight of what was behind that door. 

It was bundle hell. 

Your voice rang out, “That would probably take you all day on your own. It’s pretty disastrous in there.”

“Is there an implication there?” He snarked, mock question in his voice. 

“I help you clean, and you show me what you have on that little laptop of yours.”

Chan hummed, his eyes tracing over you and then over to his precious laptop resting off to the side. He had always been cautious about showing people his music, there were too many outcomes that he didn’t like thinking about. But you were looking at him with this excited little grin and he was finding it hard to say no. 

You were dangerous.

“I can get behind that deal,” Chan concluded. 

“Great,” you chirped without a second of hesitation. “Let’s go.”

But Chan’s strong grip stopped you as you attempted to pass and you couldn’t help but focus your eyes on the veins that ran up his bare arms. 

His eyebrow raised, amused. “We’re just going to barge in there and start cleaning?”

“Would you rather wait for the bundles to gain consciousness and invite us in?”

Chan couldn’t help but bark a laugh at your sarcasm. “Of course not. I just wanted to ask for Minho’s permission first—”

You paused him with the raise of your hand, “There’s one thing you will learn about my brother; he never says yes.”

Sensing a seriousness behind your tone, Chan nodded, suddenly open to all of your suggestions. 

“Lead the way then.” Chan encouraged, gesturing forward and releasing your arm. 

“My pleasure.”

But just as you were about to reach for the handle of the spare room, you remembered something—

The fact that you were a (stupid and unemployed) college student currently paying for a failing test grade in her statistics class.

You cursed under your breath, pausing in your stride long enough to prompt Chan’s questioning gaze, and damn it, it was adorable the way he cocked his head to the side. 

“Something wrong?” He asked. 

Your face twisted in thought, “Probably…”

“And…?”

You cleared your throat, finally pulling your eyes away from the chipping white paint of the door.

“Do you perhaps know anything about statistics?”

[floralseokjin]

⤑ made-up love song drabbles

First date: Seokjin’s POV

kim seokjin x reader warnings; none! words; 2,196 words

↪︎ read the series here / and drabbles here

Seokjin felt like a drink. It was nine o’clock in the morning, so absolutely out of the question, but it didn’t stop him from craving it. Whiskey. Definitely whiskey. Nana’s PA had just been to pick up Arin for the weekend – Thank God. Finally she would be able to spend time with her mom after a month, which he was over the moon about, and selfishly, that meant his date with you could go ahead. Even if he was so nervous he could throw up. 

Work had been a great distraction for the past two days but once he’d woken up this morning the realisation had dawned on him. He was going on a date tonight. His first in a decade. He still couldn’t believe he’d actually gone through with it and asked you to dinner. He’d faced his fears, possibly made a fool of himself and shared too much about his personal life in the process, but you hadn’t seemed to mind at all. You were so easy to talk to, it was refreshing. He’d felt brave for the first time in months – years.   But it still didn’t stop him from being on pins as soon as he’d opened his eyes this morning. 

He’d showered early, just after Arin had woken up and then he’d helped her get ready for the day too, allowing her to eat her breakfast in front of the television as he tried to swallow down his bowl of porridge too. It tasted like cardboard – but then again, it might have been his cooking. Misook usually made the food around her, when he wasn’t dining out or ordering take out of course. 

Arin had noticed his strange mood straight away. Obviously. 

“Daddy, what’s wrong with you this morning?” She’d asked, looking over at him warily before hesitating. “I am spending the weekend with mom, right?”

“Of course you are, sweetie” he’d rushed, shaking away the  surge of anger he’d felt. It pained him to know she was always expecting the worst lately. “Your mom just text me to say Jia is on her way.” 

She’d smiled then, her face lighting up and he couldn’t help but match it, his nerves disappearing for a while. That was until he was left all alone, the house now empty and silent. He eyed the bottle of whiskey on the kitchen counter (where he’d left it after his small nightcap last night) and shook his head. He should drop you a text, just to check in and see if you were still on for tonight. He needed to find out what time to pick you up anyway. He probably should have messaged you the day before, he panicked suddenly, worrying his bottom lip between his teeth as he pulled his phone from his sweatpants pocket. Oh well, there was no time for regrets, that’s what his father always said. 

It took him at least ten minutes to figure out what to say. His first draft sounded too cheerful, too false, he was trying way too hard and had added an examination point. His second was too formal, fifteen years of sending business emails back and forth obvious. He settled on something in the middle – he hoped.  

Unknown (9:32am)  Hi Y/N,  It’s Kim Seokjin, Arin’s father. Just wondering if you still want to have dinner tonight? If so, please let me know and I will send through the restaurant details. We can decide on a time for me to pick you up.  Regards, Seokjin 

Only, reading it back after he hit send he began to second guess himself. Of course you knew who he was, his confidence might be lacking a little right now but he knew he wasn’t totally forgettable. What an idiot. Not that he could do much, there was no turning back. He’d committed. 

He busied himself with a bit of Saturday morning cleaning while he waited for your reply, and by that he meant straightening up the pillows he and Arin had been sitting against earlier. When he returned to the kitchen, your message was waiting for him. 

You (9:43am)  Of course, send the details. I trust your taste! 

See, exclamation points suited you. It was cute. He could just imagine you saying it in person, your dazzling smile, maybe that little giggle you’d made a few times on Wednesday. He felt something warm in his chest as he got lost in his thoughts, nerves easing once again. You were excited for tonight, he told himself.   Maybe you were even just as nervous as him possibly… 

He spent yet another few minutes composing his reply. A lot more casual this time, signing off with just his name. He didn’t always text like this, Namjoon could vouch for him, but he didn’t think you were both quite there yet. He wanted to show his best self after all. He wanted to impress you. He wanted to make you like him as much as he liked you. 

Seokjin (9:50am)  The sudden pressure… The restaurant’s name is KIM. I hope you like it. Is 7 alright to pick you up? I made reservations for 7:30.  Seokjin 

In truth, this restaurant was one he co-owned with his brother. Seokchul was the executive chef and they were both very proud of how successful their business venture had become. He knew taking you to such a place might seem like a cop-out – or worse, a brag – but that wasn’t the case at all. He wanted to treat you in a place that meant a lot to him. He could have chosen multiple restaurants, he was a regular at quite a few and could easily get a great table, but see, that did seem like he was showing off and he did not want to give you that impression at all. It was the complete opposite of his personality. KIM was a good choice, he was sure of it, and it helped that his brother didn’t work weekends, so there was no risk of bumping into him. Although, he had let him know about the date (and had begged him not to spill to their mother). 

You (9:52am)  I will. 7 sounds perfect. I’ll send through my address. See you later! 

You followed up with a Google Maps link to your home, and he sent a quick thank you – sans his name this time. With a quick sigh he pocketed his phone again, it was time to get on with his day. He had some paperwork from yesterday to complete by Monday morning so he should probably make a start. He stopped to order a light lunch at midday, ate it as he scrolled through his very limited social media before getting back to it. 

He called it a day around 3pm, a call from his mom interrupting his flow. He spent an hour talking, their weekend phone calls were habitual by now and he enjoyed them immensely.  He loved his father of course, but their conversations mostly revolved around work. Despite stepping down as CEO three years ago, he was still a vital member of the company, and Seokjin continued to consult him at every opportunity and lean on him for support when things got stressful. With his mom, she was the woman he could still be a kid around. They could talk about anything and everything, but for her own benefit he left out his plans for tonight. He knew what she was like, she’d get way too excited and overwhelmed and before long she’d be sobbing down the line while simultaneously asking to meet you. She’d been wanting him to meet someone new for so long, much like Mrs. Shin. It was a surprise the two women weren’t conspiring behind his back. 

No, he’d keep it a secret for now. If things went well tonight, then possibly his mother would get to find out. He wasn’t getting his hopes up though – or at least he was trying not to. 

It was just after four when he got off the phone, too early to start getting ready just yet, so he sat in front of the television and tried to concentrate on a series he’d recently started. (It wasn’t going well. He was on about one episode a week out of a nine season TV show.) It was no use though, the nerves were rearing their ugly head again. 

He decided to choose his outfit. Seokjin wasn’t much of a thinker when it came to fashion, he just grabbed whatever he saw first that morning, but tonight he wanted to at least put some effort in. After much deliberation he decided on a navy two piece paired with a white dress shirt. It wasn’t over the top, he thought, but nice enough to make that impression that was so very important to him. He kept his hair simple. He’d managed to squeeze in a haircut yesterday so it made things easier, but upon closer inspection in the mirror he noticed those pesky grey hairs of his glittering in the sunlight. He grimaced, worried now. He didn’t know your exact age yet, but it was obvious he was a few years older than you. He was no spring chicken, especially with those wrinkles around his eyes. He had been called handsome all his life, no stranger to it, but right now he was dubious. 

He pushed his trivial concerns away and concentrated on the next decision. What car he would take. He didn’t want to go too flash – again with the showing off thing – so the Aston Martin was definitely off the cards. He hadn’t actually driven that one much, going through some sort of so-called midlife crisis when he’d bought it straight after his divorce, so he made a mental note to take it out next weekend. He decided on the Mercedes convertible (roof on, of course). It seemed like a suitable choice, not too flashy at all really. He didn’t want to run the risk of putting you off him or overwhelming you with showy displays. He was well aware of the differences between your lifestyles, not that he cared at all, but it didn’t stop him from understanding. The things that seemed slight to him could very well be enormous for you. He didn’t want to make you feel uncomfortable in any way, shape or form. 

Shit, on second thoughts maybe his restaurant was a bad idea… 

.

.

Seokjin was always punctual, he prided himself on it, but tonight it made him nervous. He’d said 7 but it had only just gone quarter to. He couldn’t very well stay in the car for fifteen minutes, you’d spot him out the window, so ever so slowly he opened his car door and stepped out, his heart thudding against his ribcage. He was sure he noticed his hand shaking as he closed it behind him. He was such a mess it was embarrassing. 

You lived in a nice little neighbourhood, it seemed quiet, and he admired your pots of flowers in the patch of garden you had as he made his way up the path that led to your front door. He took a deep breath before ringing the doorbell, adjusting his suit jacket as he waited for you to open up. It’s fine, Seokjin, he told himself. It’s just dinner. You’ve done much scarier things in your life. Pull yourself together, man. 

A few seconds later the door opened in front of him and you came into view, looking as beautiful as ever. I’m fucked, he thought immediately. 

“Hi,“ he forced himself to say as he smiled. He was probably staring but he couldn’t help himself. You looked stunning, your dress deep red in colour and incredibly flattering. His throat felt dry and he swallowed quickly. 

“Hey,” you greeted back. 

“You look beautiful,“ he couldn’t help but awe, hoping he wasn’t stepping out of line with his compliment. 

"Thank you,” you smiled almost shyly. It was adorable. “You look…really good.“ 

He couldn’t help but burst out laughing at that, aware the sound was probably highly unfaltering, but he couldn’t help it. "I’ll take it. Thanks.” He tilted his head to the right then, composing himself. “Are you ready to go? I’m a bit early, I know. Sorry about that." 

He really couldn’t tear himself away from your beauty, but luckily you didn’t seem to notice, busy nodding as you clutched your purse to your side. "I, uh… I would invite you in to kill time but my best friend’s embarrassing.” Your voice raised as you continued, your head turning slightly down the hallway. 

He raised an eyebrow, a little confused, but he guessed said best friend was in the house somewhere? He smiled and shook his head. “It’s fine.” 

As you stepped forward, a breath of a chuckle slipping from your throat, he moved to the side, outstretching his arm to let you lead the way. You accepted with a brief nod of your head, your gazes catching for a split second. God, you were gorgeous. 

His nerves might have eased a tad, but his heart was still beating just as fast – if not more.  

Written 2020 - 2021. Please refrain from posting my work elsewhere. No translations allowed. © floralseokjin 2021

[cacoetheswriting]

champagne problems, ch.3

Spencer is in love with you, but you’re engaged to someone else.

Chapter Three: When I’m Over You: Spencer’s desperate attempt to move on from you doesn't quite go as planned. A/N: chapter titled after this song if you want to listen while reading. Word Count: 1.7k Warnings: mild cursing, heartbreak, unrequited / unreciprocated love, very angsty, jealousy, this series is a real slow burn babyyy

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A/N: omg thank you for the kind kind feedback to the last chapter! i’d love to reply to you all under each chapter but unfortunately this is not my main account.. but i am so glad you like the series so far, it genuinely it means a lot to me!! 

-

A large window exposed the handsome brunette gentleman not only the restaurant goers, but also the world outside. Any average passerby could detect that he was nervous. Leg shaking underneath the table. Fingers tapping the surface. Quick glances between the watch on his wrist, and the entrance of the restaurant. 

Table for two yet he currently sat alone, most likely waiting for someone. A date. 

Yes, Spencer decided it was time to put himself out there once again. To really try and get over you. Unfortunately, he couldn’t ask his friends for advise on how to go about moving on because they would instantly figure out it had something to do with you. So instead he was forced to turn to a source he usually tried to stray from - the internet.

After hours of browsing Spencer decided majority of the tips were, for lack of a better word, shitty and didn't really apply to his situation. Don't torture yourself. Purge your pictures. No contact rule. Allow some fantasising. Visualise your future. 

He was about to give up when one word caught his eye. Rebound. Although the concept seemed cruel at first, it was quite frankly the only viable option. Plus from conversations he overheard at work between his colleagues there was nothing wrong with a little causal dating.

Fast forward a couple of days and here he was, patiently waiting for his date to arrive. 

Spencer was feeling anxious. He hadn't been out to dinner with a stranger like this in some time. He also couldn't help but wonder whether this would actually work.  

Back when you and Ethan first got together, the brunette doctor did go out a few times. Dinners, drinks, coffee meet-ups, museum outings etc., nothing worked as effectively as he had hoped it would. Honestly, it didn't work at all.

Although, to be fair, Spencer didn't try as hard as he could have. He deliberately picked people he knew he wouldn't hit it off with. Self-sabotage. Majority of the dates he went on were cut short by him, and the ones that made it to the end... Well, there was rarely a second and never a third.

The brunette agent looked in the direction of the door once again. For a brief moment he considered walking out, texting his date to cancel - ‘Something came up. Can we reschedule?’. No harm, no foul. 

He should have done that. He should have, but he didn't. Instead the person he was supposed to meet did. And as his phone buzzed on the table, an apology message illuminating the screen, Spencer’s eyes found themselves focusing instead on the last person he wanted to see right now. 

You.

The air caught in his throat. His instincts told him to duck his head down yet he found himself unable to move. Eyes fixated on you. Wondering why you were here. Wondering whether you were alone. Wondering whether perhaps he should try and get your attention. 

You noticed him just as you were about to leave. A kindhearted smile spread on your face the second your gaze landed on him, and Spencer waved awkwardly from his seat. Without hesitation, you made your way toward him. 

“Fancy seeing you here doctor.” You said warmly. 

Spencer cleared his throat. “You too.” He responded, nervously smiling back at you. “What are you doing here Y/N?”

You directed his focus to a rather large paper gift bag you were holding. “Just collecting some things that were left behind after our engagement party.” 

The brunette agent facepalmed himself mentally. Of course. How could he be so stupid to overlook that this was the same restaurant as your party. 

“How about you? Are you waiting on someone?” You asked, glancing briefly at the empty seat across from him. Spencer nodded slowly. “I was yes, but they just cancelled.” “Oh, I’m sorry.” An apologetic look graced your features but the brunette doctor shook his head. “Don’t be.”

You glanced at the seat once again before lifting your hand over your shoulder and pointing back to the exit. “Well, I should go. I have a bottle of wine at home with my name on it but I will see you bright and early on Monday doctor.” 

Shooting him one last warm smile, you turned around and were about to walk away when he grabbed your attention one more time. 

“Would you like to join me?” Spencer asked causing you to spin back on your heel to look at him again. “I’ve been sitting here for the last twenty minutes, holding up the table, so I kind of feel bad leaving without ordering anything.” He explained. 

“Only if you promise we split the bill evenly in half.” You grinned as Spencer chuckled. “Fine, I promise.” He responded. Satisfied with his answer, you placed the paper bag next to table before taking off your jacket. The brunette doctor sprung to his feet and took the garment from you. He walked up to the nearest coat hanger as you made yourself comfortable in the empty seat.

“Where is Ethan tonight?” Spencer asked sitting back down. He signalled the waiter to bring over the menus. “I don't want to be keeping you if he’s waiting at home.” He said, even though it was a lie. 

“Ethan is working.” You replied, a sad tone to your voice that Spencer detected instantly. “Which is why I’m glad you asked me to stay because otherwise my dinner would consist of frozen pizza.” You added. “Don’t forget the bottle of wine that has your name on it.” Spencer jokingly reminded and you couldn't help but let out a soft giggle.

The waiter appeared shortly after. They handed you each a menu and asked whether you would like something to drink in the meantime. Since you had to drive home later, you only asked for water. Not wanting to drink alone, mainly in fear he would blab the reason he was really here in the first place, Spencer did the same. 

Soon enough the two of you were lost in a naturally flowing conversation. Each of you took turns filling every breath with more interesting topics. It wasn’t strange since Spencer and you never particularly had any difficulties in that area. 

You placed your orders briskly, eager to return to whatever it was that you were talking about. Even when the food arrived, if one of you paused to take a bite the other would jump in and start rambling off. It was nice to say the least. 

“Can I ask you something Spencer?” You enquired while finishing your meal and placing the cutlery on top of your empty plate. “Anything.” Spencer replied before taking a sip of his water.

“Do you think I'm making a mistake?”

Spencer wanted to lie and say that you weren't but no matter what way he looked at it, as an ex or as a friend, it just didn't seem fair. Therefore the silence that enveloped around you was answer enough. Slowly, you nodded your head in understanding.

You looked out the large window next to you and let out a quiet sigh. It didn't come as a surprise that Spencer felt this way. It hurt just a little however, mainly because you couldn't bring yourself to admit that sometimes you felt the same way. That there were nights you lay awake thinking that you should have said no. 

You loved Ethan, and he loved you. He made you laugh, he cared for you. If one day you’d have kids you knew that he would make a great father and that your children would get everything they could ever dream of; they wouldn't even have to ask. All of that should be enough to want to spend the rest of your life with him. But there were days, moments, where you couldn't help but feel like something important was missing. 

“Y/N...” Spencer’s voice brought you back to reality. You looked back at him. Meeting his inviting gaze, you pursed your lips into a gentle smile. 

The brunette doctor leaned forward. “Do you remember that case we worked in Missoula a few years back?” He asked, changing the subject. 

Before he got a chance to elaborate you cut in politely, knowing exactly which case he was talking about. “Of course I remember doctor. It was my first case with the team.” You said, fondly remembering the memory.

“Hotch asked you to play Prince Charming to the unsub, which looking back at it now makes a lot of sense to me. You do have a lot of Prince Charming qualities.” Spencer smirked softly at your comment. “I have Prince Charming qualities?” He raised a curious brow.

“Are you kidding me? Charisma, smarts, kind heart. The perfect hair, warm smile, and just overall good looks.” You chimed. The small smile on your face grew a little bigger. “You tick all the boxes my friend. Disney could use you as a blueprint.”

Spencer laughed. “Good to know.” 

The two of you sat there for a second just smiling at one another. 

“Why do you ask though?” You asked reaching for your water; breaking the comfortable silence.

Spencer licked his lips before taking in a quick breath. “You said something to me on the plane back home that I think applies now; ‘Meant to be isn't real. It’s a concept. You can’t know if something is meant to be unless you live through it, therefore you can’t know if something is a mistake unless you give it a go. Fairy tales and happy endings are made only by people that live them.’.” 

Your eyes began to gloss over with tears. Trying to fight back the floods, you chewed down on your bottom lip and swallowed your breath. You couldn't believe he remembered. Yes, he has an eidetic memory but you couldn't believe he remembered.

“You will get your happy ending Y/N.” Spencer stated confidently. “I know you will.” 

“Thank you.” You whispered loud enough for him to hear. 

Slowly, you wiped your cheeks for any tears that escaped your eyes and smiled kindly. “How is it that you always know exactly what to say doctor?”

“Years of practice as a profiler.” He answered. “Plus having an eidetic memory helps.” He joked, shrugging his shoulders.

You giggled, your eyes once again locking with his. This time however there was a sort of shyness surrounding it. When your heart skipped a beat, when the palms of your hands began to sweat, when you couldn't bring yourself to look away, well, that should have been an indication that you were in trouble.

And while you played off the warning signs as nothing more than a friendship bond, Spencer realised that any efforts to ‘find a rebound’ would be wasteful. 

There was no-one on this planet that would come remotely close to you. 

Someday, someday Some way, some way When I'm over you

-

A/N: hello friends! i hope you liked the third chapter!! i’d love to hear your feedback and what you think will happen next! if you would like to be added to a taglist, please let me know. thank you for your continuous support. with love, mal. x

story taglist: @girloncorneliastreet, @haylaansmi, @rexorangecouny, @l0ve-0f-my-life, @obsssedwithjustaboutanything, @aperrywilliams, @sassy-hades, @rainsong01​, @reverdevivre​, @dracomikaelson, @softieekayy​, @lunaofcrows

spencer reid taglist: @no-honey-no​, @calm-and-doctor​

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[mmikmmik2]

If you were to sort the Infinity Train cast(s) into the Major Arcana a la the Persona games, which Arcana would you give everyone?

anon I had SOOOOO much fun thinking about this, thank you so much for sending me this. I sorted all the major characters, plus a few other entries, based on a mix of Arcana symbolism, Persona series character archetypes, and general vibes. I came up with answers I feel pretty good about for all but four of the Arcana. (Was really tempted to say Strength is every human character who doesn't board the train because they can handle their problems on their own lol.) This is going to be a long-winded post, so I thought I’d post just the list as an image (which hopefully won’t be too blurry!) rather than wrestle with Tumblr formatting trying to make a short list, and put a big text wall under the readmore talking more about my picks.

If this list does end up illegible, the same info is under the readmore as text! Plus some characters for Magician, Strength, Justice, and Death that I didn’t want to add to the “official” list because they’re more based on headcanon. (Although my reasoning for some of the “official” picks is pretty weak lol.)

One-One as 0. The Fool

Oh my gosh, what am I?

IT is great at fleshing out character backstories and families, so One-One at the beginning of S1 is one of the few characters who really feels like a blank slate. He's got a lot of his baggage back by the end of the season, and I think One and One-One are more similar than they seem at first glance, but S1 does seem to have been very formative for One-One and how he thinks about what he's supposed to be doing and how he relates to other people. So it does kind of feel like his fool's journey.

Alrick Timmens as I. The Magician

The magician begins the journey... by beefing it on a dirt bike, dying, and sending his wife flying off the deep end. Rip.

Alrick was an engineer like Amelia, so I could see him suiting some of the themes of the Magician, like conscious thought and manifesting ideas. His apparent playfulness and insecurity are similar to the Magician characters in Persona.

Kez as II. The High Priestess

“We can’t make this decision for you, Kez.” “You know what to do.”

I thought really hard about making Kez the Magician because just like every Magician since Persona 3, she's dumb, horny, and insecure dlkjasfdkl

(and also her showing up at the start of the story arc and being helpful but also super needy is very Magician)

But the idea of "intuition" really does suit Kez. Sometimes her intuition is as bad as her conscious reasoning, but I think that's a lot because she's so confused about what happened with Jeremy, and Morgan making Kez feel like she did a bad thing by helping him.

Tuba as III. The Empress

She made me feel like I was warm all the time.

Tuba's a mom. Sorry, this one's not that deep, haha.

Simon Laurent as IV. The Emperor

Highest number! I'm the leader now.

Simon has a lot of issues, but the one that felt the most prominent to me was his unhealthy relationship with power, authority, dominance, and rules. Another quote I considered using here was what he said in Grace's memory of meeting Amelia: "I never thought I'd get to see the Conductor with my own eyes. He's perfect! Everything finally makes sense again." In his emotional crisis, he thought everything could be fixed just by the existence of a huge, scary, powerful, male authority figure, even if they weren't doing anything helpful or informative.

Atticus as V. The Hierophant

I like to think that our stones are sturdy and handsome, like the Corgis that crafted them.

Atticus is a figure of traditional authority who deeply loves the history, society, and culture of his people. He often provides spiritual wisdom and encourages Tulip to get out of her own head and engage with the world around her. Also in Persona, Hiero is the Dad Arcana so it's very funny to me (a) to make the little dog be Hiero and (b) that the little dog really does have the strongest Wholesome Dad Energy of the whole cast.

Jesse Cosay as VI. The Lovers

Don't tell me what to do. I'm not going to be a part of anything like this, on or off the train.

This was my first and easiest pick lol, Jesse is sooooo Lovers. Like, the focus on choice and personal values and relationships? Yep, that's Jesse. It works on an "actual meaning of the Arcana" level and a "vibes with the Persona characters" level lol... popular, upbeat, and having such an identity crisis.

Lake as VII. The Chariot

I'm my own person, who is getting off this train!

I don't know if Chariot captures all the ways Lake grew over the course of S2, but I feel like they had the most externally focused conflict of all the IT characters, which suits Chariot. They've been fighting to stake out their personhood from start to finish, and they took action and used their willpower to achieve that goal. Also they have at least a little jock energy which is a prereq for Chariot tbh.

Frank as VIII. Strength

I dunno, I kinda imagine him as a simple man and easily underestimated, but with a lot of heart. The Cat may say they're keeping things casual but I don't think she'd take him with her on her private vacation unless he had some kind of inner toughness that would let him stand toe-to-toe with her.

Morgan as IX. The Hermit

I need to be alone right now. Kez... maybe... we can talk later.

I like that Morgan embodies toxic self-isolation and stonewalling and rejection, but that she seems to be moving towards the positive aspects of Hermit and taking some time to calm down and process and think. I like it when characters can embody the best and worst of their Arcana.

Tulip Olsen as X. The Wheel of Fortune

We have to adapt to the changes in our lives. It's the only way things can get better.

Tulip has a lot of themes and conflicts, but this one is a clear standout as the most important. I also like it for Tulip because, while she has to handle a lot of difficult and even traumatic situations, some of the change that challenges her isn't as unambiguously bad as e.g. the death of a loved one. It really is just change itself she's struggling with, and that's Fortune babey. Also, from the perspective of the train itself and lots of other characters, by reversing Amelia and One-One's positions again and changing how One-One administrates the train, Tulip is the one giving the wheel a spin. That's fun.

Lucy as XI. Justice

One of my friends once described the Justice characters in Persona as "the ones the player character is ultimately accountable towards", and I like to think of Lucy as kind of being that for Grace (...since Hazel has excused herself). Lucy is the Apex kid we see Grace interact with the most, the first Apex kid Grace admitted to herself that she had harmed (see Grace very briefly showing distress and then regret when Jesse points the harpoons at his face and she stops him), and the first person to confront Grace when she came home in The New Apex.

Min-Gi Park as XII. The Hanged Man

I don't know if we'll sell a single album, but we'll figure that out as we go.

Min-Gi sacrifices his "realistic", "sensible" goals for a more personally (spiritually, even?) enriching life that's beyond his control and outside of the expected norm. Like the Hanged Man, who dangles foolishly upside-down, but as a deliberate choice and in a state of serenity and enlightenment. I also think this arcana suits a reading of Min-Gi's character development as starting off going slower as a way to stall and live in denial, but then going slower with deliberation. Compare his arrogant insistence on refusing to act in The Astro Queue Car to his patience and care in The Castle Car and The Train to Nowhere.

Jeremy as XIII. Death

This isn't about the death of his family - I'm thinking of his reluctance to admit his number was going down. He cared about Morgan and Kez, and it's possible both that he may have really wanted to stay with them despite his exit and that that might even have been a healthy choice - they're real ass people with feelings and everything, not holodeck characters. But I also think Jeremy was using his life with them to avoid moving on out of that fog (because it was hard and it hurt and he didn't want to think about what that would mean for him and Morgan) and Morgan was enabling him.

Ryan Akagi as XIV. Temperance

Maybe the experience is the point. I wasn't just rushing you. I was rushing myself.

I think this one speaks for itself. Also, the other quote I considered putting here, from The Art Gallery Car: "You told me I can't appreciate the song without taking in the rest of the album. I need the whole package."

The Cat as XV. The Devil

I always do the right thing.

Honestly, this is one I really wasn't sure about. The Cat isn't a great pick for a lot of the meanings of Devil. She is definitely consumed by material comforts, and the short-term rewards of ignoring her issues at a long-term cost, though. This is more of a "vibes with Persona characters with this arcana" pick... Devil characters tend to start off being somewhat exploitative or even antagonistic towards the player character, and gradually showing a more conflicted and genuine side.

Amelia Hughes as XVI. The Tower

There's a hole in the universe where Alrick used to be.

Amelia's life is defined by catastrophe and upheaval - both those she's suffered and those she's inflicted on others.

Hazel as XVII. The Star

I'm going to keep loving you like you're still here.

When I think of "The Star" as a small but inextinguishable light in the darkness, Hazel seems like the obvious choice. Although we left her deeply wounded, I think she still has a flicker of her hope, faith, and purpose.

Grace Monroe as XVIII. The Moon

But it's unfair for me to tell you how to understand yourself. I mean, I don't even fully understand me.

Grace is probably the most complex and dynamic character on the show and hence one of the most difficult to place. I considered Empress, Strength, Devil, and Judgement for her... I think ultimately, lies and illusions are the most unifying theme of her character arc. Also, from a Persona angle, her pursuit of status out of a lack of true self-worth reminds me of Ai and Mishima.

Alan Dracula as XIX. The Sun

Brought together by the majesty of a superpowered deer!

I'm sorry dkjasfklads this is largely because I thought it was funny to have this completely inexpressive dead-eyed deer as Sun akfk but also... like... it kind of works okay!!! Think about the genuine joy and comfort and positivity he brings to Lake and Jesse (and me)!

The New Apex as XX. Judgement

"Then what are we gonna be?" "Guess we'll have to figure it out?"

This is kind of a Persona mythology gag again because of Judgement being a group social link near the end of the narratives of P3 and P4, when the protagonists have pierced through the lies and actually figured out who the villain of their game is and are ready to really start making progress.

0 as XI. The World

Ah, train does it again!

It's an ending and the completion of a journey, but also the beginning of a new one. And the world is literally what the passengers receive at the end of their train journey. Welcome home.

[ditttiii]

Enchanted To Meet You || 5.5 || JK’s Interlude.

Banner by: @thebannershop​

◈ Summary: No one ever told you that you had a soulmate or—soulmates, for that matter. Humans don't have soulmates, but shapeshifters do. What are you supposed to do when the seven members of the worlds biggest boy band turn out to be your soulmates—only for you to realise that they aren't even human

BTS is on a hiatus and ARMY thinks they are completing their mandatory military service. You believe that too, at least you did until you realised that you had adopted them and that one way or another they were gonna live with you—as Hybrids because apparently, you all are soulmates. 

◈ (Hybrid AU // Soulmate AU) (Fluff // humour // smut // angst  // eventually NSFW) (NC-18) (Ot7 x Reader) (slow burn)

◈  series master-list

◈ Word Count: 2051

◈ Warnings: Maybe one curse word? PG-13 (sfw)

You're the debt that brought me back to my life 너는 내 삶에 다시 뜬 햇빚 The Second Coming of My Dreams as a Child 어린 시절 내 꿈들의 재림 I don't know what this feeling is 모르겠어 이 감정이 뭔지 Is this a deceitful dream? 혹시 여기도 꿈 속인건지

Jungkook hates quite a few things in his life at the moment—hates having to hide from his soulmate, hates that he has to pretend like he was just a rabbit and not a living, breathing human too, however more than anything else he hates himself. 

God, he despises himself now more than ever. He had hurt you, made you cry, made you fear your own home. He was supposed to be someone you felt safe with, and yet he almost gave you a heart attack today.

Jungkook at the moment feels like a fraud, a sham as he gazes at you—looks at your peaceful, sleeping face. Small, warm puffs of breath hits his head and he feels his fur move under the soft force. 

‘Tingles’, He thinks.

He feels your warm presence cocoon him as his body heat mingles with yours. Here, curled beside your sleeping figure like this, he can't help but curse himself. His self-loathing at an all-time high, as he thinks back to what had happened a few hours ago. 

He knew it was a possibility, knew that it could happen.

The chance of you coming home suddenly and catching him in his human form wasn't an improbable one.

Jungkook, though, couldn't stand it anymore. It wasn't like he would have died if he hadn't shifted, but being a rabbit all the time wasn't the most comfortable feeling ever either. 

His bones ached, and his muscles were sore because of the prolonged shifted state. 

He also wasn't used to being in his animal form for an extended duration of time. He'd usually shift back after a few hours, and so this wasn't a problem he had been aware of before. 

The feeling of staying shifted for days on end had him feeling claustrophobic. It was the kind of claustrophobia he thinks he would experience if he was locked inside a too tiny box with his limbs wrapped awkwardly and uncomfortably close to his body. 

Suffice to say it wasn't the most comfortable state of being. 

His plan was to make use of the few minutes while you were out shopping to shift back to his human form and just stretch. He hadn't planned on staying like that for longer than maybe ten minutes. But when he had shifted-back the relief—oh god, the relief was almost intoxicating.

It's potency so concentrated, he had ended up groaning out loud as his eyes rolled to the back of his head. 

The numbing, constant aching of his bones and muscles, more than anything else, had left him feeling exhausted for the last few days. The pins and needles feeling when he had shifted back was enough to send him tumbling down onto the floor, as his unsteady feet refused to hold his weight. 

Jungkook had been practising boxing with his trainer before all of this had happened. He also had a black belt in Taekwondo—the very principle of which was to harness an indomitable spirit. He was fit, active, athletic and buff. Staying shifted for extended periods into a form so much smaller than his human one, was borderline torturous at times. 

Jungkook simply did not know how he was supposed to hold back. 

He had many qualities that he was admired for, but iron like self-restraint wasn't exactly one of them. Maybe, more like the lack, thereof the aforementioned, self-restraint would be more appropriate. 

Jungkook wasn't born talented. Not like the rest of the band members. As a student, he wasn't really the brightest pea in the pod either, his math skills are still nothing to boast about. 

What most people saw was the end product, the final result that would come out after Jungkook would spend hours, days—months, perfecting it. He had said it before, but in reality, he wasn't as perfect as his stage persona portrayed him to be. While BTS's Jungkook was perfection personified, with his precise dance timings and on-point vocal notes, Jeon Jeongukk struggled.

When Jeongukk had first joined BTS, he had been more of a dancer than he was a singer. He had never, ever had the assumption or even the hope, that he would be chosen as the main vocalist. When he was rejected during the auditions for Superstar K, the talent show, Jeongkook was heartbroken.

It wasn't something he had ever talked in-depth about to ARMY, but his confidence in his vocal skills had taken a hit that day. He had chosen his then idol, IU Noona's song, and had sung it for weeks, perfected every single note until the feel of that vibration, the beat of that rhythm had synced to his very pulse. 

But he was rejected, cast out before his audition could even be broadcasted. 

He till date can't fully understand why bighit, let alone seven fucking agencies, had thought he was worth their time. Maybe it was fate playing its card and bringing him together with his soulmates, or it was just a coincidence—he didn't know why and probably never would. 

He knows that it wasn't exactly a necessity for all of his soulmates to be idols, you clearly weren't. He knew precisely how lucky he was, and was therefore so utterly thankful that he could share his passion and love with all of his soulmates. 

Yes, All of his soulmates, you included.

Jungkook isn't a snooper, not really. Sure, he has always been curious by nature, and his maknae persona only fuelled that image, thus overtime making him seem more like the baby in the group—but no he wasn't a snooper. 

He knows how much he values his personal space and, so would never deliberately try to breach upon someone else's but you—god you, made him do things he would never choose to do before. 

He hadn't wanted to, or well maybe he did want to, but he definitely didn't mean to. It wasn't like he had been planning to check your laptop folders. 

No, because when just stretching hadn't quite fully loosened his body, he had thought he'd do a quick dance routine and get the blood flowing. How was he supposed to know that he would find BTS songs, their songs, his songs on there?

He shouldn't have been surprised, but he still was. Their fandom was pretty big, and the chances of a college girl listening to their music were pretty high. You were part of the demographic that they aimed and catered most towards, so it was to be expected, but it still caught him by surprise. 

Dressed in one of your loose hoodies and a pair of loose pyjamas, he looks at the screen. 

His breath still hitched in his throat as his eyes widened, glossy, doe-like large and oh so so curious.

His grip on the back of your chair slips, as he stumbles before getting a hold, and slowly sinks down onto the empty seat. Thinks about how you have probably spent hours pouring over your medical texts in the same exact chair, and that makes him feel closer to you. 

He has been curled around you, has slept with his face literally pushed into your cleavage, but somehow the simple act of sharing a space that you spent a lot of your time in, sends his heart racing as a small smile overtakes his lips and he bites them to stop it from spreading entirely.

He fails, of course, he does. 

He clicks on the folder titled 'BTS' and watches a list of sub-folders pop up on his screen. His heartbeat rises—thuds and beats strong enough that he feels it in his ears, in the back of his throat, in the wrist that touches the table as he glides the mouse across the surface. 

His palms feel sweaty, and he feels this anxious feeling pool somewhere deep in his stomach, as his gut squeezes. It feels like his conscience is telling him something. That he shouldn't be doing this. This feels like something dangerous, but something he desires. The folder the screen displays the apple to his Adam. 

You? his forbidden fruit.

His breaths grow shorter, as he unconsciously tries to be as quiet as he can be and leans forward to look at the vast array of songs you had. As his eyes rake over the meticulously named albums with their years after them written in brackets, he almost chuckles. 

He isn't surprised to see that you were anal about categorizing your songs too. From what he had observed of you in the last few days, he would be more surprised if you weren't.

His finger glides over the scroll wheel of the mouse, as he reads the titles of the songs. Every single song they had released was on there—Official and covers. 

Every. Single. One.

Whether you were just a really dedicated ARMY or it was because of the soulmate bond, he didn't know, but it doesn't matter to him what the reason was. 

Because there they were, he and his hyungs splayed all over your computer screen. Their photoshoots all lined meticulously year after year, their random pictures that you had probably picked up from twitter or weverse grouped by year and then there were screenshots. 

Screenshots of tweets, weverse, certain parts of interviews of theirs, that you had ever liked were all there. It was fascinating, surreal, insane to be able to see himself and the hyungs through your eyes, the eyes of their soulmate. 

Somewhere, between finding you in that shelter, to now living with you, he had stopped thinking of you as human, as someone different. 

Yes, you weren't quite the same as he was, but he didn't care anymore. Because you loved him, you cried for him, you laughed with him and more than anything else you completed him. Filled his aching, longing soul with love until it overflowed and he felt full, content—sated. His thirst for your presence quenched, for once in all his life. 

However, the realisation that he had found his last soulmate hadn't fully sunk in yet. He couldn't even imagine what the others must be feeling right now, he was sleeping curled around you and, yet all he wanted to be was closer, it was this all-consuming feeling that kept pulling him under, dunking him in its depths. 

The crazy part was he didn't even mind it anymore, he would drown in the deepest depths if he could feel your hand pulling him closer in there, your lips locking with his as you breathe air into him, save him, make him yours.

Kami, he wanted you to make him yours, mate him, mark him.

He knew it wouldn't happen anytime soon, you didn't even know they were your soulmates. Sure, you liked them as artists, but what teenage or college girl didn't have a favourite band? They could very well just be a passing fascination for you at this point, a fleeting interest, a secret guilty pleasure before you move on with your life. 

Wasn't that how fame usually worked? It was eager, intense, loud until it suddenly wasn't and one was left with a gaping hole in their heart, that they aren't ever able to fill after. 

Jungkook didn't want that, he didn't want that for his hyungs either. It was something he had figured out years ago. He wasn't about to let this fickle, fleeting fame catch him in its lusty claws. 

He would give this life his all, pour literal sweat, blood and tears into it, but once his extended contract ends, he will step back. 

He will bow down low as the curtains close for the stage of 'The Golden Maknae' and, the path paves for Jeon Jeongkook. The boy who had come from Busan with a heart full of hopes and dreams and had ended up achieving and getting more than he had ever even imagined or hoped for. 

He would be thankful to his fans, to his company, to his Hyungs, to this industry, for taking care of him and letting him fly under their warm protection, but he would be done. As the curtains fall close, the mask will slip, and he'll turn, and you will be there. 

You with your bright grin and glimmering eyes would look on at him proudly, and he'd kiss you, hold you and know that he didn't want fame because he had you. 

And you were all he had wanted for as long as he can remember. 

After all, you are the cause of his euphoria, a home with you his utopia. 

Filling in the plot, adding it the finer details. 

Since the taglist is pretty long now and I can’t continue to keep them all in my comments, I will be putting the taglist up here from next chapters onwards. Tumblr is glitchy and some of you might not be notified so I am sorry about that. However, if you are a regular reader and have left me feedback time and time again, whether it was a comment or an ask with your thoughts on this story, I’ll tag you down in the comments since I know you definitely do read the work and appreciate it and I am so grateful for your support.

Thank you for reading  💖

[ikemenvmpire]

Forget-me-not | Leonardo x Comte x Vlad

a/n: Hello beautiful ppl !!! It’s my first time writing a fic about this troublesome trio. Just to let you know there is no spoilers from Vlad’s route in this two-part series (could be three, you’ll never know). I wanted to showcase my fanon approach to their personal relationships and how they both psychologically and physically get affected by them. It’s quite rushed because of my finals and not proof-read I’m not satisfied with my writing, so please forgive me for possible grammar mistakes. Anyways, if you enjoy the content please interact! Let me know what you think, feedback means a lot to me.

Also my requests are open, I accept nsfw/sfw hcs and one-shots with any suitor you’d like

warning: angst, slight violence, true friends that stab you in the front, couple of sexual innuendos here and there.

word count: 2.1k

The good, the bad and the ugly. The subtle whisper inside of his head reminded him of a broken vinyl that kept dragging the notes of an unwanted invite from his memories.

His memories that lived inside his head as vivid as an Evening Primrose that blooms at night.

Upon hearing the silence that bled into the atmosphere surrounding them, Leonardo slowly settled the empty wine glass onto the glass table beside him.

“You’re too loud for your own good, Comte.”

Snapping out of his thoughts, Comte turned towards the man that now deliberately searched for a match as he continued with his words that caused nothing but confusion.

“The violin stopped but you did not.”

Comte’s gaze dropped on the floor, meeting with the bow of his instrument laying on the polished floor of his quarters.

Still not pleased with Leonardo’s discourse he locked his eyes with his, demanding clarity.

“I can no longer hear anything other than the wheels that are turning in your head” Leonardo concluded, finishing his words with a light chuckle.

“Him-“ Comte’s words cut short by the lump that disturbed his throat and the heavyweight of the regrets he held in, for god knows how long, creating an immense pressure in his chest.

“I thought so” Leonardo continued, observing as the smoke that he held captive between his plush lips now slowly blurred his vision.

The blond leaned his back against the wall, the soft breeze of the midnight made the curtain beside him caress his hand.

“How long do you plan on keeping this up ?” the tone of his voice was stone cold nevertheless the look in his eyes warmed them up as they echoed in the silent room.

“I don’t know.” Comte murmured, he truly had no idea how to get rid of this troublesome burden. If he did, they would be enjoying their wine instead of Comte’s whining.

“Come” the man said as he placed the cigarillo on the ashtray and got up from his comfortable seat.

“Where to-“ the clicking of his shoes stopped as Leonardo turned his head to the side, not bothering to fully face the man that was intently watching him.

“Follow me and don’t worry about the rest.”

Comte, with a swift movement of his head, urged the fallen strand of his hair move to the side as he lowered himself down to the brightly lit candle.

Following his own reflection on the wax as the drop gently slid down to the remaining pile of melted wax, drowning his reflection in the hot liquid.

He softly blew on the fire to put it out. The smoke mixed with the comforting scent of vanilla danced in the air across the smoke of Leonardo’s cigarette, that suffered the same faith as Comte.

The more he missed him, the more his thoughts invaded his mind, burning through his skull. The reminiscences of the memories that were surrounded by his partner with moonlit hair and even brighter smile, turned Comte into ashes. The consequences of his thought train left him hanging like a dark cloud of smoke.

He grabbed his coat from the hanger near him as he directed his steps towards Leonardo’s spot. Pushing himself to leave his room and his worries as he reaches out to the handle of the door to exit.

“Lead the way, Leo.”

The silence brought serenity as the two of them kept walking in the beautiful forest. The sound of the autumn leaves that tremors under the vigorous darkness of the night filled the air, Leonardo held the careless man that wasn’t watching where he was heading to by the arm.

“Here we are.”

Comte turned towards the tall tree that Leonardo leaned his back against, questioning the unfamiliar feeling that had his head turning.

Leonardo lifted his fist up as he slammed it down againts the tree. His unexpected harsh movement caused Comte to wear a dumbfounded expression. It also urged the nightingales that were previously settled on the branches of the same tree to bat their wings away as they sung a song through the night.

“Hide and seek.” Comte uttered, breathlessly as the rest of the memories poured into his subconscious.

“Ah, there we go. Vlad used to pull this stunt each time.”

Comte laughed, taking a couple of steps back as he fell onto the soft surface of the grass. His childish behavior made Leonardo lose his composure, making two purebloods roar with laughter.

“...and yet you fell for it. Each time.” Upon his shameless accusation, Leonardo frowned and kicked the pile of leaves ahead of him, making them rain on the man that laughed like a maniac.

Comte seeked shelter from his own arms as he let his back fall completely flat on the moist grass. Staining every piece of clothing item he had on.

“No matter my loss, you bought the beers. Sounds like victory to me.” Leonardo responded nonchalantly.

“I am still curious to know why would you hide behind a tree again and again, it’s ridiculously obvious.” Comte continued to laugh as he seemingly couldn’t stop himself even if he tried.

“Because it’s easier to hide behind it than to climb it” said Leonardo as a matter of fact.

Comte knew that his response could be interpreted with a single word rather than a whole phrase.

Lazy.

“It’s good to see you smile” he continued as he stared at the horizon.

Comte felt so close yet so far for the past couple of dawns this week. Leonardo surprised himself by being this worrisome of his friend, it was unexpected of him to act or feel this way.

“It hurts.” The painful hue of his tone caught Leonardo off guard.

He directed his gaze towards his feet as he tried to force out the appropriate words to describe how much he was hurting from within. Hoping that him spilling his guts to the only one he trusts, somehow would help lifting some of it’s weight off of his shoulders.

“Comte-“

“What did I do to make him push me away like he did back then ?”

Leonardo decided to seal his parted lips as he followed Comte’s soliloquy with absolute attention.

“I gave him all I had and all I was. My trust, respect and loyalty for him was indubitable.”

He continued, closing his eyes shut. The tension bled from his fingertips, through his soft locks. He clinged on his hair as he concentrated on the darkness behind his fluttering eyelids.

“It wasn’t enough” Leonardo added, carelessly kicking the rock in front of his feet. He knew that greed was more than welcome in Vlad’s vocabulary.

His world wasn’t tainted by useless distractions. He was either black or white, whereas those who considered him a friend lived under a gray sky.

“I wasn’t enough” Comte whispered, his words fell from his lips lighter than a feather.

Leonardo lowered himself to his level as he suddenly grabbed him by the collar of his shirt. Easily picking him up and capturing him between his strong hold and the tree.

Comte’s pulse quickened thanks to the adrenaline of the moment. His warm but fast breathing felt warm against Leonardo’s cheek.

“You.”

“Look at me and listen to me carefully because I will say this only once.”

“...and I will not see you whimper about shit that you can’t fix ever again.”

Comte, nervous as he was, found comfort in his vulgar action. The harsh friction against his back and even harsher words that tickled his ears made him come back to his senses.

“What would I do without you ?” Leonardo’s brows furrowed in response to Comte’s utterly sappy words.

“Presumably, what you do without me.”

Unanticipated voice that traveled through the depths of the forest made both of them turn their heads slowly as Leonardo’s hands abandoned Comte’s collar.

“Vlad.”

His soft chuckle concealed the suspense of unsolved matters. The air that Comte inhaled now felt sharper than a blade. Vlad’s presence left a bittersweet taste on his tongue. The type he didn’t want to get rid of but also the one he didn’t want to recall.

“Long time no see” Leonardo added, emotionlessly.

“You sound overjoyed Leonardo” Vlad responded, not disturbing his calm and collected aura, not even the slightest.

Comte huffed as he patted on the expensive material of his coat, trying to look more presentable.

“Why are you here ?” He hissed, avoiding possible eye contact in any way he could.

Vlad placed his hand on the inner side of his coat and dragged out a thin velvet envelope. Nearing towards his position, Comte fixed his posture, standing tall with overpowering feeling of manifactured confidence.

Vlad offered him a delightful smile as he raised the blood red envelope between his fingers and brushed the fallen strand of hair in front of Comte’s face with it.

The sharp edge of the envelope traced the delicate skin of his face, the sensation left him almost nervous. The hairs on the back of his neck stood up, covering the his body with goosebumps.

Vlad, at last, pressed the envelope on Comte’s chest, where the palm of his hand found his heartbeat.

Comte’s words deceived his true intentions, he couldn’t comprehend how everything felt like the way it did in the past.

The pain felt fresh but what tore his heart apart was the agonizing disappointment.

“Care to explain ?” He said, ignoring the dark cloud of regret that struck thunders above him as he glued his eyes on Vlad’s.

“There’s not much to say when you can just see the things the way they are.”

Leonardo threw his head back as he let out a condescending laugh, letting his tongue wander on his bottom lip.

“Are you still hanging out with Shakespeare ? Where does this literacy come from ?”

“Depends on how you interpret ‘hanging out’.” Vlad lowered his gaze towards his hands with an unreadable smirk, the hands that earlier this encounter found their way up on playwright’s neck.

Comte distracted by the mysterious item that he held, ripped the envelope as the velvet paper revealed a flower with soft purple pedals stained with crimson blood.

The sharp scent got the honey tint of his eyes leaving it’s place to the darkness of his fully dilated pupils under the shock of realization.

The same scent belonged to none other than the new resident of his mansion.

Then the realization hit him, not faster than he hit the devil in disguise.

Vlad landed on his back as his heels dug on the fresh soil with the force of Comte’s blow.

“What did you do to them ?” He spat, the pressure of his clenched teeth visible upon his sharp jaw.

Not amused by his response, that consisted of silence and arrogance, Leonardo held him by his long locks and yanked his head back with the sole purpose of looking down on him.

“He asked you a question, didn’t he ?”

Vlad hissed at his gesture, nevertheless entertained by the burst of untamed hatred.

“I’ve heard.”

He let his eyes stray on his sharp features, a flash of remembrance struck him.

“I don’t think that you would be pleased to hear what I have to say.” His smirked widened, so did Comte’s eyes.

Running out of patience and will power, Comte rushed towards him to wipe the amusement out of his face.

Unbeknownst to him, Vlad was more than ready to wrap his hand around the slender wrist that was aiming to hit him square on the face.

“Let’s not get ahead of ourselves shall we ?” He muttered as he pulled Comte towards him with a strong grip.

Leonardo watched the scene unfold right in front of his eyes, taking a step forward only to back down afterwards. He decided that letting Comte get trashed would help him come to terms with his unsolved inner matters.

Unsolved matters, unanswered questions that constantly fed his break-point.

Comte struggled to get out of his grip. His nails dug into his flesh, the sweet pain drove his senses wild.

“Tomorrow at 12 a.m., sharp.” He said, placing his warm lips closer to Comte’s ear.

Vlad let his wrist free and stood up, for a short instant none of them seemed to move or speak.

There was a lot to talk about but their emotions lacked words, their questions lacked answers and their actions lacked sincerity.

Vlad turned his back against Comte and directed his gaze towards the bloody flower on the floor. Recalling his memento for one last time.

“Don’t make me wait” was his last command. Cold and ruthless, no sign of mercy or compassion.

Then the farewell of his footsteps followed.

Trust is as safe as a gun afterall.

It doesn’t kill unless it’s in the hands of those who know how to pull the trigger.

Taglist (let me know if you’d like to be tagged): @leonardoism @hotanekooo @ranhanabi777 @chaotic-coyote @thedollarstoresatan @justsomepersons @stardust-dreamer13 @nishtharya

Part 2 is coming