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harryssyndrome · 7 months ago

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Best Brother Ever | h.s

Pairing: Husband!Dad!Harry x Wife!Mom!Reader

summary: a sweet Sunday afternoon with the styles family and Alex being the best big brother.

Word count: 2.6k || MASTERLIST 𓇼🌊⋆🐚🫧

Posted On: November 7th, 2024

I got really inspired by a cute reel I saw on Facebook and since then this sweet fluff has been sitting in my drafts for months and I’m really happy with how it turned out! I hope you enjoy it as much as I do ♡ let me know your thoughts in comments! Like & reblog are truly appreciated 🥰 REQUEST ARE OPEN.

It was a peaceful Sunday morning in the Styles household, and the cozy, familiar sounds of home filled the air. In the kitchen, YN moved around with practiced ease, stirring a pot, chopping vegetables, and tasting spices with a focused concentration. She’d been at it for a while now, determined to make Harry’s mom, Anne, feel right at home with her favorite dish. In the background, 18 by One Direction played softly, and YN found herself humming along, her voice a gentle echo to the lyrics.

Though the band had gone on indefinite hiatus years ago, and each of the boys had branched off into their own solo careers, YN hadn’t stopped listening. She was a Directioner through and through, and she knew in her heart she’d never let go of those songs—they were part of her story, her history with Harry, and her dreams.

Meanwhile, in the living room, their six-year-old son, Alex, was lying on the mat with Berry, their playful family dog, gently scratching behind Berry’s ears. Berry’s tail thumped in delight, and Alex giggled as the dog rolled over, waiting for belly rubs. The two were inseparable, each one the other’s partner in mischief.

After a few minutes, Alex felt a tickle of thirst, and with his usual burst of energy, Alex stopped scratching and said, “Oh Berry didn’t you get tired of all the scratching? I know, I know you were enjoying it but it’s time for a break, I’m thirsty. You don’t do anything stupid while I’m gone! Granny likes it when you’re a good boy.” He then sprang up and ran to the kitchen, tiny footsteps echoing across the hardwood floor.

“Alex, no running in the kitchen, remember?” YN gently reminded him, glancing over her shoulder with a smile.

Alex skidded to a stop, giving her an innocent look. ��Sorry, Mama.” He then carefully walked to the fridge, his small hand reaching for a water bottle. After unscrewing the cap and taking a long sip, he paused, a thoughtful expression crossing his face.

Looking up at his mom, he noticed how she’d been working by the stove for a while. The warmth from the flames made the kitchen a bit stuffy, and in that moment, his little mind put two and two together. Carefully holding out the bottle to her, he asked, “Mama, do you want some water too?”

YN paused, touched by the thoughtful gesture. The little boy was caring just like his father. Her heart swelled with pride and warmth at her son’s understanding, and she leaned down to pull his cheeks before pressing a gentle kiss on his forehead. “Thank you, sweetheart. That’s very thoughtful of you.”

Alex beamed up at her, delighted by her kiss, and handed her the bottle with a shy smile. YN took a small sip, her heart feeling full in the best way possible. Moments like these, simple and unassuming, were what made her life feel so complete.

YN glanced around the kitchen, realizing she hadn’t seen Harry in a while. She turned to Alex, who was still grinning from her earlier kiss, and asked, “Where’s your daddy?”

Alex paused, looking thoughtful. “He’s giving Amelia a bath!” he replied brightly.

YN chuckled, wiping her hands on a towel. “Don’t you think he’s taking a little too long?”

Without another word, Alex took off down the hall, announcing over his shoulder, “I’m gonna check!”

YN shook her head, smiling to herself as she continued stirring the pot. But barely a minute later, she heard Alex’s laughter ring out, loud and delighted, carrying all the way back to the kitchen. Curious, she wiped her hands and followed the sound down the hallway, wondering what on earth could have him so amused.

When she reached the bathroom, she found Alex standing at the doorframe, giggling uncontrollably. YN peeked over his shoulder, and the sight before her was too good not to laugh herself.

Harry stood by the sink, almost drenched, his shirt soaked and clinging to him, while his hair, wet and messy, hung down in front of his eyes. Amelia, their 15-month-old daughter, squirmed in his arms, wrapped in a fluffy towel that he was struggling to keep around her tiny, wiggling frame. Amelia, completely entertained, let out a series of squeals and giggles, delighted by the whole chaotic scene.

Harry looked up, his eyes meeting YN’s as he tried—and failed—to blow a strand of wet hair out of his face. “She’s, uh… a slippery one,” he said with a helpless smile, shifting Amelia as she kicked her tiny feet, clearly thrilled by all the attention.

YN chuckled, stepping into the bathroom to take over. “I think you’ve gotten just as much of a bath as she has,” she teased, reaching for Amelia.

“Believe me, I know,” Harry replied, surrendering his squirming daughter into YN’s arms. As soon as she was safely in her mother’s embrace, Amelia nuzzled into YN, her little face lighting up with another round of happy giggles.

Alex, still laughing, tugged at Harry’s soaked shirt. “Daddy, you’re all wet!”

Harry ruffled Alex’s hair, a lopsided grin on his face. “Well, that’s what happens when you try to bathe a little mermaid,” he joked, winking at YN.

YN smiled, cradling Amelia close as the baby snuggled into her, finally calm. Glancing up at Harry, she added with a playful grin, “Maybe next time I’ll leave the bath duty to you again. You look like you’re having way too much fun.”

Harry raised his hands in surrender, laughing. “Only if I get a raincoat next time.”

With everyone still giggling, the air filled with warmth and laughter. For YN, it was yet another reminder of how these simple, unplanned moments held the truest joy.

After drying Amelia’s soft curls and dressing her in an adorable denim overall dress, YN gave her a little pat, sending her off with Alex, who eagerly took her tiny hand. “Come on, Amelia! Let’s play in the backyard!” he declared, guiding her to the door as she toddled along, wide-eyed and giggling.

Meanwhile, Harry changed out of his soaked clothes and slipped into a comfortable hoodie and shorts. Feeling refreshed, he wandered back to the kitchen to find YN putting the finishing touches on lunch. She was focused, stirring one last pot, her face glowing with that contented look he loved.

“Smells amazing,” he murmured, slipping his arms around her from behind, resting his chin on her shoulder. She relaxed into him, smiling as she gave the pot one final stir.

“Thank you,” she replied, turning her head slightly to meet his gaze. “I wanted everything to be perfect for your mom.”

Harry pressed a light kiss to her cheek. “It already is perfect. Besides, Mom’s really coming to see you and the kids. I’m just… here for decoration,” he joked, earning a laugh from YN.

She turned to face him, resting her hands on his chest. “Pretty good decoration, I’d say,” she teased back, her eyes sparkling. “Can’t say I mind having you around.”

He grinned, taking her hand in his. “And I can’t say I mind this whole thing… you, me, the kids, Sunday lunches. I think we’re doing alright, don’t you?”

YN’s smile softened, her heart warmed by his words. “I’d say we’re doing better than alright.”

When lunch was ready, they carried everything to the living room and settled comfortably on the sofa, filling their plates and savoring each other’s company in the cozy quiet. Berry, their loyal dog, lay stretched out on the floor nearby, watching them with sleepy eyes, as though content to be part of their little family moment. But the peace didn’t last long; as soon as Berry heard the sound of laughter from the backyard, he was on his feet and bounding toward the door, ready to join Alex and Amelia in whatever adventure they were up to.

Harry and YN shared a glance, amused, and Harry sighed with a laugh. “Should we go see what they’re getting into out there?”

YN nodded, grinning. “Definitely.”

Hand in hand, they headed toward the backyard porch deck, hearts full and laughter on their lips, ready to join in on the joy of the afternoon.

Harry and YN strolled out into the backyard, enjoying the sight of Alex and Berry playing an enthusiastic game of chase. Alex was giggling as he kicked the ball across the grass, Berry hot on his heels, barking and wagging his tail, clearly in his element.

But their attention quickly turned to little Amelia, who was standing by the swing set, her tiny fingers gripping the seat as she attempted to climb up. She’d tugged it down a few times, her determination evident in her scrunched-up face, but every time she tried to lift her legs, they just didn’t reach. She let out a tiny, frustrated squeal, her cheeks pink with effort.

Alex spotted her from across the yard and immediately abandoned his ball game, trotting over with Berry following close behind. “I’m coming, Amy! I’ll help you,” he declared, a serious expression crossing his little face. The way he spoke, it was as if he were preparing to climb a mountain, not help his baby sister onto a swing.

He placed a comforting hand on Amelia’s shoulder, patting her gently. “Don’t worry, Amy. I’ll get you up there,” he reassured her. Berry sat down nearby, tilting his head as if watching the scene unfold with keen interest.

Alex held the swing steady, lowering it slightly to make it easier for her to grab. Amelia gave it her best shot, tugging herself forward and then clinging to her brother’s back, her small legs kicking as she tried to hoist herself up. But she kept slipping back down with a tiny thud, her face scrunched in concentration.

Seeing her struggle, Alex crouched down thoughtfully, tapping his chin with one finger like he’d seen his dad do when he was deep in thought. “Okay, hm… maybe try to use my back like a lil’ stool?” he offered, glancing up at her with a hopeful smile. “I’ll be like a step!”

Amelia’s eyes lit up, and she gave him an excited nod, as if this was the most brilliant plan she’d ever heard. Alex crouched down in front of the swing, bracing himself. “Alright, Amy, climb on!” he called out, his voice full of determination.

With a delighted giggle, Amelia leaned onto her brother’s back and clutched his T-shirt with her chubby little hands. She climbed as best as she could, trying to pull herself up—but her grip on his shirt only tightened as she clambered, her arms slipping around his neck. Alex winced, his voice coming out in a slightly strained laugh. “Amy… you’re kinda… choking me,” he gasped, though he kept steady, determined to help her however he could.

Harry and YN watched from nearby, biting back their laughter as Alex tried to be the perfect big brother, his determination and care making them both melt a little inside. Berry, still sitting close by, tilted his head again, ears perked as he followed every bit of the action.

Eventually, Alex, catching his breath, stood up, looking down at his sister with a thoughtful frown. “Alright, Amy, let’s try it another way,” he said, more determined than ever to help her reach her goal.

He pointed at the swing seat with a very serious expression, bending down to her level. “Just try to sit on it. Right here,” he said, gesturing to the exact spot where she should aim. “Watch, I’ll show you.”

With exaggerated care, he climbed onto the swing himself, wiggling around on the seat to demonstrate how to sit properly. Then he hopped off and held the swing firmly in place again, giving her an encouraging nod. “Okay, now you try.”

Amelia looked at him, wide-eyed with admiration for her big brother, and then turned back to the swing. She grasped it carefully with both hands, her face full of concentration, and this time, after a few wobbly attempts, she managed to pull herself up, finally plopping down on the seat with a triumphant squeal.

Alex’s face broke into a huge grin. “You did it, Amy!” he cheered, clapping his hands. “You’re a big girl now!”

Amelia giggled, her cheeks flushed with excitement, and Alex gave the swing a gentle push, sending her gliding back and forth, her delighted squeals filling the backyard. Each time she swung forward, she let out a little giggle, her laughter filling the air.

Harry and YN stood side by side, their arms wrapped around each other as they watched Alex carefully push Amelia on the swing. Her joyful squeals mixed with the gentle creak of the swing, and Alex’s steady encouragement filled the air. Berry trotted nearby, tail wagging, occasionally glancing up as if to make sure everything was under control.

Harry tightened his arm around YN’s shoulders, pulling her close as he shook his head in admiration. “He’s… he’s really the best big brother, isn’t he?” he said, his voice soft with awe. “Look at him—so gentle with her, so patient. I can’t believe he’s only six.”

YN beamed, her eyes fixed on their son as she watched him push Amelia with such care, his face serious with concentration, as if he were on an important mission. “I know,” she replied, her voice warm with pride. “He’s amazing with her, isn’t he? Always looking out for her, always so sweet. I feel like we’re really… doing something right.”

Harry looked down at her, a playful glint in his eyes. “Well, I think you’re doing most of it right,” he teased, bumping her shoulder with his. “I’m just here to make sure they know how to make a mess and have fun.”

YN laughed, nudging him back. “Oh, please, Harry—you’re their hero. Every time you walk in, they light up. You’re like their personal superhero.”

Harry chuckled, scratching the back of his neck. “I don’t know about ‘superhero,’ but… seeing them like this, watching them take care of each other? That’s everything.” He paused, his gaze softening as he looked back at Alex and Amelia. “They’re so lucky to have each other. And I think… we’re pretty lucky to have them, too.”

YN nodded, her heart swelling as she took in the scene—their two little ones, working together, supporting each other in their own innocent, unfiltered way. “It’s moments like these that make it all worth it, don’t they?” she murmured, leaning her head against his shoulder. “All the late nights, all the messy meals and chaotic mornings… all of it. Seeing them happy, and kind, and just… them.”

Harry gave her a soft smile, pressing a kiss to her forehead. “We’ve got a good thing going, don’t we?” he said, his voice thick with emotion. “I couldn’t imagine a better team than this. You and me… and these two.” He gestured toward Alex and Amelia, his eyes crinkling with pride. “We’re doing something right, YNN. I know we are.”

Just then, Alex looked over his shoulder and spotted his parents watching. His face lit up with pride, and he called out, “Look, Mum! Dad! Amy’s swinging! I got her up here all by myself!”

YN and Harry exchanged a warm glance before waving back, beaming with pride. “You’re the best big brother, Alex!” YN called out, giving him a big thumbs-up. “Amy’s so lucky to have you.”

Alex’s cheeks flushed with pride, and he turned back to Amelia, giving her swing another gentle push. “Did you hear that, Amy? Mum and Dad said I’m the best big brother ever!” he whispered to her, smiling from ear to ear.

Watching him, Harry gave YN’s hand a gentle squeeze. “We’re raising some pretty great kids, aren’t we?” he murmured, his eyes sparkling with pride. “If nothing else, I’d say we’re getting that part just right.”

YN looked up at him, her eyes shining. “Couldn’t agree more.”

604 notes · View notes

inseobts · 1 month ago

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Sketching Another Life

sabo x gn!reader

you keep sketching sabo even though he died in front of you years ago. but what happens when he appears again?

a/n: omg finally got the chance to post this akdjsj it was in my draft for months and months lmao

words count: 2.9k

tags: doesn’t follow the anime canon events, childhood friends, protective luffy

masterlist || ao3 || ko-fi

Luffy doesn’t hesitate when he sees Sabo again.

The moment his big brother stands before him, alive, real, breathing—he hugs him.

It’s not even a conscious thought. His body just moves, arms wrapping tightly around Sabo’s torso, pressing his forehead against his coat. He squeezes his eyes shut, because damn it, Sabo was supposed to be dead.

Sabo stiffens for only a second before his arms return the embrace just as fiercely “Luffy…” His voice is hoarse.

Luffy grips the back of Sabo’s coat tighter “You idiot,” he mutters “You—you were gone.”

“I know,” Sabo whispers, and there’s so much regret in those two words that it makes Luffy’s chest ache.

It takes a long time before Luffy finally pulls away. His eyes scan Sabo’s face, as if memorizing every inch of him. He’s older now, different, but still Sabo.

And then Sabo asks the question Luffy knew was coming.

“…What about y/n?”

Luffy’s stomach drops.

He knew Sabo would ask. He knew the moment his brother remembered everything, he’d remember you too.

Because how could he not?

You weren’t just a part of their childhood—you were one of them. The fourth member of ASL. The one who always trailed after them with a sketchbook tucked under your arm, the one who kept their memories alive on paper.

Luffy swallows hard, looking away. He remembers the way you shattered when Ace died. The way you curled into yourself, sketching their faces over and over like you were trying to bring them back.

The way you stopped smiling.

The way you stopped living.

You had lost both of them, and now Luffy refuses to let you break all over again.

So he lies, and for the first time ever he has to be good at lying, because now it's important and he can't do it wrong.

He forces a grin, rubbing the back of his head “Ah, y/n? Yeah, they’re—uh, they’re fine! Doing their own thing!”

Sabo frowns “Really?”

“Yep!” Luffy nods—too quickly “They’re not on the crew anymore. Just, y’know, off somewhere!”

Sabo stares at him “…You’re lying.”

Luffy freezes.

Sabo’s gaze sharpens “Where are they, Luffy?”

Luffy crosses his arms “Not tellin’ you.”

Sabo blinks, caught off guard “What?”

“You heard me,” Luffy says, suddenly serious “I’m not tellin’ you.”

Sabo stares, confusion flickering in his expression “Why not?”

Luffy looks him dead in the eye “Because you died.”

Sabo flinches.

“You died, and Ace died, and y/n almost didn’t make it through that.” Luffy’s voice is tight now, controlled but firm “I won’t let you hurt them again.”

Sabo feels like the wind has been knocked out of him.

You… suffered? Because of him?

“I just want to see them” Sabo says, softer now.

Luffy shakes his head “No.”

And that’s the end of it for now.

Sabo doesn’t push the subject.

He lets Luffy avoid it. He lets him steer the conversation elsewhere. But the thought of you lingers in his mind, heavy and unshakable.

Are you really okay?

Something doesn’t sit right, and then, by pure accident, Sabo finds it.

He’s wandering the Sunny, familiarizing himself with Luffy’s ship. The night breeze is cool, the ocean calm. He steps into a quieter part of the deck, where a small table sits against the railing.

There’s a notebook on top of it.

At first, he doesn’t think much of it. But then his eyes catch the open page—the sketch.

His breath stops.

It’s them. Him. Ace. Luffy. And you.

The four of you, standing side by side, grinning like you hadn’t a care in the world. Just like old times.

But that’s not what makes his chest tighten.

It’s the signature.

A dumb, childish sign that only one person ever used. A weird little mark that never made sense to anyone but you. The same signature you used when you were kids.

And right beneath it—a date.

Just a few days ago.

Sabo’s eyes widen.

Luffy lied.

You’re here.

Sabo grips the notebook, knuckles white. His heartbeat pounds in his ears as he stares at the date—just a few days ago.

He doesn’t know whether to be angry or just hurt. He knew right away that Luffy lied but now he has the confirmation.

Before he realizes it, his feet are already moving. He storms across the deck, gripping the notebook tight in his hand. He finds Luffy near the mast, shoving meat into his mouth like nothing’s wrong.

Like he didn’t just lie to his own brother.

Sabo doesn’t stop walking until he’s standing right in front of him “Luffy.”

Luffy looks up, still chewing “Hmm?”

Sabo holds up the notebook “Explain this.”

Luffy freezes.

His eyes flick to the sketch—to the signature. His chewing slows, and for the first time since reuniting, Sabo sees something rare in his little brother’s expression.

Guilt.

“Sabo…” Luffy swallows, setting his food down.

“You lied” Sabo says, voice controlled but firm.

Luffy doesn’t deny it. He just looks away.

Sabo tightens his grip on the notebook “Why are you doing all this?”

Luffy exhales through his nose, running a hand under his hat “Because you hurt them” he says simply.

Sabo’s stomach twists “I—what?”

“You heard me” Luffy says, looking back at him “Ace died. You were gone. Y/N lost both of you. And you wanna know what happened after that?”

Sabo doesn’t answer. He’s not sure he can.

Luffy’s jaw clenches “They stopped living, Sabo.” His voice isn’t loud, but it’s heavy, filled with something raw “They stopped smiling. They kept drawing, yeah, but it wasn’t the same. It wasn’t for fun anymore. It was like…” He hesitates, searching for the right words “Like they were trying to keep you guys from disappearing forever.”

Sabo’s fingers curl.

Luffy sighs “I thought I was gonna lose them too.” His voice drops to something dangerously soft “I almost did.”

Sabo’s breath catches.

He never thought about it. He never realized.

He had assumed you were strong. You always were. You were the one who stood beside them, laughing, teasing, drawing stupid little comics of them falling into ditches.

You had always been there but he left. Ace left. And you had to bear that weight with Luffy alone.

Sabo looks down at the sketch again, his own face staring back at him from the page. The way you had drawn him—older, smiling, standing beside his brothers. A version of himself that you had never even gotten to see.

And yet… you still imagined him there, growing up with all of you.

He swallows hard “I need to see them.”

Luffy frowns “No.”

Sabo’s head snaps up “Luffy—”

“I said no!” Luffy stands up, fists clenched “I just got you back, and I’m not letting you mess them up again!”

Sabo’s chest tightens “Luffy, I—”

“They’re happy now!” Luffy cuts him off “They started smiling again! They’re finally okay! What if seeing you ruins that?!…”

Silence.

Sabo stares at him, realization settling in.

Luffy isn’t just protecting you.

He’s terrified.

Terrified that seeing Sabo again will break you all over again.

Sabo takes a slow breath, his grip loosening on the notebook. His voice is softer this time “Luffy… you don’t get to decide that for them.”

Luffy flinches.

Sabo takes a step forward “You think they’ll fall apart if they see me?” He shakes his head “You don’t know that. Maybe it’ll hurt at first, yeah. But don’t you think… maybe they deserve to decide that for themselves?”

Luffy doesn’t respond. His jaw is tight, hands trembling slightly at his sides.

Sabo exhales “I need to see them, Luffy.”

Luffy clenches his teeth, eyes shadowed beneath his hat.

Then, finally—

“…They’re in the infirmary.”

Sabo’s breath catches.

Luffy doesn’t look at him “They got hurt on our last stop. Chopper said they just need rest and Sanji is there to keep an eye on them” He crosses his arms “If you wake them up and make them cry, I’m gonna punch you.”

Sabo huffs a small laugh “Fair deal.”

But Luffy doesn’t laugh. He just turns away “…Don’t hurt them again.”

Sabo watches him for a moment. Then, he nods “I won’t.”

With that, he heads toward the infirmary and then hesitates in front of the door.

For the first time since finding out you were here, uncertainty creeps in.

What if Luffy’s right?

What if seeing him just brings back all the pain you worked so hard to bury?

He exhales, pushing the thought aside. No—he has to see you. He has to make things right.

Slowly, he pushes the door open.

The room is dim, lit only by the soft glow of a lantern. The air smells faintly of medicine, and the steady sound of breathing fills the silence.

His eyes land on you instantly.

You’re curled up on the bed, wrapped in a blanket, your expression peaceful. Even after all these years, even after everything, you still look like you.

Sanji is seated in a chair beside your bed, one leg crossed over the other, a cigarette resting between his fingers. He doesn’t look surprised to see Sabo standing there. If anything, he looks… expecting.

Sanji exhales a slow stream of smoke “Took you long enough.”

Sabo tenses “You knew I was coming?”

Sanji leans back, tapping his cigarette against the ashtray on the table “Didn’t take a genius to figure it out. Luffy’s been acting weird ever since you showed up.” He tilts his head “You finding that drawing must’ve sped things up.”

Sabo doesn’t respond. His eyes flick back to you, his chest tightening.

Sanji notices “They’re okay,” he says, voice quieter now “Just exhausted and resting. Took a rough hit on our last island, but nothing Chopper couldn’t fix.”

Sabo clenches his fists. The idea of you being hurt—even now—doesn’t sit right with him.

Sanji watches him carefully “So? You gonna wake them up?”

Sabo hesitates “…I don’t know if I should.”

Sanji takes another drag of his cigarette, exhaling through his nose. “You really think you get to make that choice?”

Sabo looks at him, startled.

Sanji doesn’t break eye contact “You left them once already, didn’t you?” He taps his cigarette against the tray again “You don’t get to decide what’s best for them. Not anymore.”

Sabo’s breath catches.

Sanji sighs, standing up “I promised Luffy I’d keep an eye on them but I also know they’d kill me if they found out I let you walk away.” He gives Sabo a pointed look “So, what’s it gonna be?”

Sabo looks at you again.

His fingers twitch at his sides.

Then, finally—he moves.

He steps forward, slowly, quietly, until he’s right beside your bed. His breath is unsteady as he really takes you in.

You’re different now. Older. But still you.

And then, without thinking, he does something he hasn’t done in over a decade.

He reaches out—hesitates—then gently brushes his fingers against your hair.

Sanji raises an eyebrow but says nothing.

Sabo swallows hard. His voice, when he speaks, is barely above a whisper.

“…I’m sorry.”

For leaving.

For making you grieve.

For not finding you sooner.

For everything.

And then— you stir.

Sabo’s breath stills.

Your eyelids flutter slightly, brows furrowing as if resisting the pull of consciousness. He pulls his hand back quickly, heart pounding.

He’s not ready but he doesn’t have a choice.

Because then—your eyes open.

You blink a few times, adjusting to the dim light, and then your gaze lands on him.

And you freeze.

Sabo’s throat goes dry. He should say something. But he can’t. He can’t breathe, can’t move, can’t do anything except stare because you’re looking at him like he isn’t real.

Like he’s a ghost.

Your lips part slightly, but no sound comes out. Just wide, unblinking eyes, your body going stiff beneath the blanket.

Sabo finally forces himself to speak.

“Hey.”

It’s weak. Hoarse. Not nearly enough.

You don’t react. You don’t move. You just keep staring.

A thousand emotions flicker across your face—confusion, disbelief, shock—before suddenly, your expression shatters.

Your hands tremble as you clutch the blanket. Your breath hitches, quick and shallow, like you’re trying to hold something back.

“Sanji.”

Your voice is barely a whisper, but Sanji is at your side in an instant “I’m here.”

You don’t look away from Sabo, like if you blink, he’ll disappear “You see him too, right?”

Sabo’s chest tightens.

Sanji exhales, rubbing the back of his neck “Yeah, sweetheart. I see him.”

You inhale sharply “Oh.”

Sabo takes a cautious step forward “y/n, I—”

“Don’t.”

His stomach drops.

You shake your head, squeezing your eyes shut “Don’t talk.”

He stiffens.

Sanji places a hand on your shoulder “Breathe,” he murmurs “Nice and slow.”

You try—you really do—but it’s too much.

Because Sabo is standing right in front of you, looking older but still so much like the boy you lost.

And the worst part?

He’s looking at you like he’s sorry.

And that makes you angry.

Your hands curl into fists “You—” Your voice shakes, raw with something you can’t name “You’re supposed to be dead.”

Sabo flinches “I know.”

“Do you?” You snap your head up, eyes burning “Do you actually know what it was like? To lose you? To lose Ace?! I'm so happy to see you but what the hell? Why only now... I don't know how to feel...”

Sanji’s fingers tense against your shoulder, but he doesn’t stop you.

Sabo takes a breath, steady but guilty “I can’t take back what happened. I've lost my memory and got it back just after Ace... But I—”

“You what?” Your voice rises, throat tight “You just forgot about us?!”

Sabo’s expression twists “I didn’t—”

“You did!” The words rip out of you before you can stop them “You left, Sabo! You left me, and then Ace—!” Your voice breaks “And then Ace—!”

You can’t say it.

You can’t say it because if you do, it becomes real again.

The weight in your chest feels suffocating.

And then—a hand.

Not Sanji’s.

Sabo’s.

Warm, hesitant, but firm as it settles over yours.

You stiffen.

Sabo kneels beside the bed, meeting your gaze with something deep, something raw.

“y/n” he murmurs, voice almost pleading “I’m here now.”

Your breath hitches.

Because that’s the problem.

He’s here.

And you don’t know if you can handle it.

You don’t speak, don’t even move for a few seconds. Your heart is pounding in your chest, a chaos of emotions swirling in the pit of your stomach. But then, without warning, you pull him close.

It’s a sudden movement, urgent, like you’re afraid he’ll vanish if you don’t hold onto him with everything you’ve got. Your arms are tight around his neck, your fingers digging into the fabric of his shirt.

Sabo’s breath catches. He doesn’t know what to do, but he doesn’t hesitate. He wraps his arms around you, careful and gentle, as though afraid that any sudden movement might shatter the fragile moment.

And it’s fragile.

Because in this hug, there’s tension. So much unspoken hurt in the way your body trembles against his, the way your breath hitches every time his fingers brush the back of your head. This doesn’t fix anything. It doesn’t make up for the years, the pain, the void that has been left in the wake of his absence.

But it means you missed him. It means, despite everything, you’re still here. Still clinging to him.

He feels you pull away just a fraction, enough for him to meet your gaze. Your eyes are red and swollen, and the sight of it nearly breaks him.

You wipe your face with the back of your hand, trying to hold it together. And then, your voice comes out rough, raw, barely more than a whisper.

“Don’t expect me to forgive you right away.”

Sabo’s chest tightens. He wants to speak, to apologize, to explain himself, but the words are stuck in his throat. Instead, he just nods, his gaze never leaving yours.

“I know,” he says quietly, voice thick “I wouldn’t ask you to.”

You swallow, your breath still uneven, and for a moment, neither of you says anything. The silence between you is heavy, but it’s not suffocating. It’s an understanding.

Then, without warning, you move again. You turn your back to him, walking slowly over to the window, the moonlight casting a soft glow over your features.

Sabo stays where he is, unsure of what to do, still unable to quite believe that he’s standing here, in front of you, after everything.

You take a deep breath and speak, your voice more controlled now, though the weight of everything still lingers.

“When Ace died… I thought I was gonna lose everything. But I didn’t, Sabo. I stayed. For Luffy. For… for us.” You pause, fingers curling into the fabric of your blanket “And I can’t—can’t—lose you again.”

Sabo’s heart aches. He doesn’t deserve that. You stayed. You stayed through the worst of it, even when he wasn’t there, even when Ace was gone.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers, barely audible “I can’t take back what I did.”

You don’t look at him, but your voice trembles when you speak again.

“I know.”

It’s simple. But it’s all you need to say.

Sabo stands there for a long moment, the weight of your words sinking in. It isn’t enough to fix things. It won’t ever be enough. But it’s a start.

And he’ll take it.

For now.

367 notes · View notes

bluebnny · 12 days ago

Text

Make it up to you

trafalgar law x gn reader

contents: law finding you after a fight, G/N reader, hurt/comfort, it gets super sweet at the end, established relationship, but implied to be recent

warnings: angst, a lot of mentions of fighting, emotionally constipated law (but you clicked on this, you know what you're getting yourself into), kind of toxic dynamic (nothing specific ig, hints of Law withholding affection, stuff like that)

a/n: this was originally meant to be part of my relationship headcanons for law, but ended up being way too long so i decided to make it its own post (and thereby have an excuse to make it even longer lol). Also this is a little messy, since i've rewritten it like 3 times, but it can't stay in my drafts forever. Dividers made by me. I really hope you enjoy, this was a lot of fun to write! <3

word count: 3.094

It’s just past lunchtime on the Polar Tang, and everyone is going about the submarine, finishing their tasks for the day. Everyone except for you, that is. You are in the crew's shared dormitory; a place you had also inhabited until not too long ago. Even though you practically live with Law in his captain's quarters, you never officially moved, meaning much of your stuff is still here. Initially, you had found it annoying to not be able to fit all your stuff into Law's already crammed room. But you will admit that it’s nice to have a place to go when you need some space. You're certainly thankful for it now, lying on your side, with your face pressed into the mattress you used to sleep on to muffle your cries.

You and Law had just had one of your rare fights. Between his snappy attitude and your quick temper, small arguments aren't out of the ordinary. You’re both stubborn people, so some amount of conflict is to be expected. Truth be told, you usually quite like bickering with him. It's fun when neither of you is actually angry, plus, you find Law incredibly cute when he loses his composure because of you (although you would never tell him that). You like knowing that you can get him all worked up in an instant, and you know he can't mind it that much either, if his crazy smile and fiery gaze are anything to go by.

But it’s rare for one of your minor daily disagreements to get out of hand. Especially like this. Law is fiercer in his arguing than you are, and far less likely to back down when met with resistance. Therefore, you’re usually the first to back off when you had let out your frustration, and he had always respected that.

Not today though.

Today had been your first time seeing Law livid. It was nothing like his usual exasperation when you teased him, where the glint in his eyes would betray how much he secretly loved it. Today, for the first time since knowing him, you had found no warmth in his grey eyes, detected no hint of excitement in his voice, no playfulness in his stance. For the first time, you had looked at Law and felt afraid.

Law hardy ever made you cry, and especially not this much. You’re not usually the type to let things get to you, so this reaction came as a bit of a shock even to you. But despite your best efforts, you couldn’t stop the tears from welling up, nor from running down your cheeks and dripping from your chin.

You had truly hated seeing him like that. Furious, hair messy from running his hands through it all day, eyebags heavier than you had ever seen them, and clearly at the limit for how much more pressure he could take. Law’s usual overworked, nerdy vibe had a clumsy sort of charm to it, and you had never missed it as much as you did then. But today, everything from his stance to his voice had screamed aggression, and although Law would never lay a hand on you, you hadn’t been able to stop the icy rush of panic root you to your spot.

Law had noticed, and had stopped arguing mid-sentence, body language easing up slightly and looking as though he was contemplating how to react. But before he had the chance to speak, you had taken your chance to leave, your legs suddenly willing to listen to you again.

That’s how, unsure if by choice or by instinct, you had ended up going straight to the crew’s quarters. Where you are now, still attempting to calm down the last little sobs your exhausted body can manage.

"Thought I'd find you here." Law is standing in the doorway. His voice is back to its usual level tone, carrying none of its earlier rage. You stay quiet, not meeting his gaze. Part of you is worried you might feel another rush of fear at the sight of him, even though he had obviously calmed down. Another part is simply still angry.

He takes your silence as permission to enter the room. Not that he needs it, being the captain of the ship. "Let's not fight anymore, ok? I didn't mean it like that, I was just angry." He sounds exhausted, and you don’t miss the slight impatience in his voice. You've been avoiding him for half the day, and it's clearly stressing him out.

Still, you don't respond, waiting for him to continue. He doesn't at first, wanting to see if his "apology" would be enough. Obviously, it isn't. You turn your head even further away from him, a clear sign that you expect more than that.

He sighs. "I get it, you're still mad at me. And I probably deserve it, too. Just, let me make it up to you." He steps closer, reaching out his hand, trying to show he was here to help you. And after a slight pause with still no reaction from you, his voice softens. "...please?"

You look up at him before you can stop yourself, not expecting him to start pleading so quickly. He looks like saying that caused him immense pain, but you know how being vulnerable in front of others makes Law deeply uncomfortable. You also know that it means you shouldn't push him too much now, or he'll just clam up and get angry again. So, you take his hand, and he quietly helps you to stand next to him.

"Just so you know, I'm still mad at you." It’s all you can think to say right now.

Despite your words, Law looks relieved that you're talking to him again. It encourages him to keep going despite his discomfort, knowing that it would make you feel better. "I took the rest of today off, so we can do whatever you want for the evening!" He looks almost enthusiastic. Well, for Law's standards at least. He’s clearly hoping that that will be enough of a gesture to cheer you up, but unluckily for him, you’re not one for grand gestures. You prefer words.

You start playing with his hands to avoid eye contact, tracing his tattoos. This fight was the worst you've ever had, not that there had been many. But the fact that law is so eager to extend an olive branch only shows you that he knows how badly he fucked up. You’re torn. On the one hand, you really want to forgive him and put this entire thing behind you. But on the other, you know that giving in now without standing up for yourself will only make you regret it later. So, you try to be honest.

"Law, I really want to, but-" you're cut off by an involuntary sob and mentally curse yourself for making this more complicated than it has to be. "...but y- you really hurt me this time and even though I want to, I don't know if I can forgive you just like that." You hadn’t meant for it to come out so dramatic, so final, but your sore throat won’t allow you to keep going.

The quiver in your voice shocks Law, who had expected you to calm down more quickly. He had hoped that he overestimated the seriousness of the fight. Seeing you still just as shaken up as you had been hours ago proving that he hadn’t. Although Law doesn't admit it, he is terrified of losing you, and that fear is now overtaking his mind. It’s clearly showing on his face, his composed demeanour slipping for the second time that day.

"Hey, hey, please don't cry. You know I would never hurt you on purpose." He speaks before he can even think, desperate to talk to you, to somehow make you understand how badly he needs you. Leaning down slightly, he gently takes your face in his hands, wiping your tears with his thumbs. The tenderness surprises even himself. "I- I'm sorry." He stares directly into your eyes while saying it, almost panicking now, and it momentarily stops your tears. Your breath hitches, and the yearning look in your eyes makes his heart ache. But he can tell he said the right thing, so he continues. "I'm sorry. I'm really, really sorry. I don't know why I treated you like that. That was wrong and I’m a rat bastard for ever daring to raise my voice at you, and... I'm sorry." He swallows hard.

There's a stunned silence, clearly, neither of you expected him to say all of that. You only allow yourself a moment to process, knowing how delicate the situation is. Law is putting himself completely at your mercy, like he had never done before. "You really mean that?" He is still holding your face, and you place your hands on his to keep him from pulling away.

"Yes. Fuck. Of course, I do." He looks hurt that you would even doubt that "Look I’m a horrible person. I'm even mean to Bepo! But I’ve been taking you for granted, and I want to treat you better before you inevitably realize you're far too good for me." He speaks like he’s in a hurry. Like you would leave if he doesn't say the right words fast enough. Or maybe he knows it is only a matter of time before he comes to his senses and tries to push his words back down again.

Swallowing hard, he continues. "You- you're so smart. You respect yourself enough to stand up for yourself, even against an asshole like me. But you shouldn't have to constantly fight to stand your ground against your own boyfriend.”

All you can do is listen, transfixed, your hands having moved to his face now. You are still staring at each other. Him as if trying to memorize your face before losing you forever, you as though just seeing him for the first time. Just taking him in.

His face is tense again, his brows furrowed, and his jaw tight, but you can tell it’s from passion this time. He leans down even closer to you, his hands now gripping you, DEATH enclosing you from both sides while he continues. Not letting you escape.

“And- I think I love you. Not because you put up with me and all my bullshit, but because you don't. And I can’t believe I’ve let myself drag you down with me in all my selfishness." Law is speaking so delicately now, like he’s choosing his words with care. If you hadn’t seen his mouth move, you would think someone else had said them.

You are both silent for a long time. Both processing what has just happened, all that has been said. You are trying to make sense of all the thoughts buzzing in your head. Law loves you. And most surprisingly of all, he was the one to say it first! If his bruising grip on your face wasn’t grounding you, you might have thought it was all a dream.

It feels like forever before Law speaks again.

"Well?" His voice is quiet, breathless. You only now notice that he is panting. "Will you let me make it up to you?"

You open your mouth, but your voice still won't come. You give him a shaky smile, and when the words still refuse to form, you simply decide to get to the point and kiss him. Although it isn’t a verbal answer, it tells Law everything he needs to know.

Maybe it’s due to the emotions still clouding your mind, or the adrenaline flooding your brain, but this is by far the best kiss you have ever shared with Law. And that’s saying a lot, since he’s a very good kisser, even on a bad day. You’re addicted to the way his lips press against yours, the warmth of his face soothing you. Law leans in deeper, and it is only when his hands travel down your back to wrap around your waist, that you realize they are no longer on your face. You wrap your arms around his neck, trying to pull him closer to deepen the kiss, and he obliges, letting your tongues dance around each other. You stay like this for what felt like an eternity, and you are starting to wonder how much time has passed since Law found you crying on the bed.

When you finally break the kiss, after about five hours, based on your best, but probably very inaccurate guess, Law’s eyes immediately find yours again. His gaze is intense, and you know exactly what he’s searching for.

“I love you. Law.” You don’t hesitate, a faint smile making its way onto your face again.

It’s like you can see the tension leaving his body, and he immediately pulls you into another hug, more tender and loving than you had thought him capable of. “I thought I had pushed you away for good.” He murmurs into your hair from where his face is pressed to the top of your head. “Do you want to go back to our room? I still have the evening off, you know.”

Your first thought is that he’s coming on to you, and you start to wonder if there were some romantic undertones you hadn’t picked up on, but then Law continues.

“We can have dinner there, just the two of us. And talk. And we can even cuddle.” He explains, but then quickly adds “I know you would probably like that.”

It takes everything in you to not break out the absolute biggest grin at Law’s quick save, allowing him to awkwardly masterfully maneuver his way out of seeming too eager on snuggling up with his partner in bed. You don’t let yourself linger on how he just let slip that he likes cuddling you, not wanting to make fun of him when he is so clearly wants to show you he is trying.

“That sounds perfect.” You tell him. You feel a sense of longing at his proposition, wanting nothing more than a quiet evening with your boyfriend, eating, talking, and then cuddling in bed before falling asleep. The emotional turmoil of the day has left you completely exhausted.

“Good. I’ll go clear out my desk then.” He’s back to being a little stiff now that the moment is over, clearly trying to compensate for all the emotions that had just been expressed. A slight flush in his face that you graciously pretend not to notice. “Room. Shambles.” And with that, he’s gone.

You’re about to sit on the bed for another moment, to process everything that has just been said, when you’re stopped dead in your tracks by a very familiar sound coming from the still open door. Your expression turning to one of suspicion, you slowly move towards the source of what is obviously Penguin and Shachi’s muffled giggles. You don’t know how you hadn’t noticed them before.

“How long have you two been hiding there?” You need to do some damage control, and fast. If Law finds out the two most mischievous crew members have heard any of what he has just said, he will never let himself open up like this again, and you simply can’t accept that. Not only have you just gotten your first actual apology from Law (probably also his first apology to anyone), but he has also confessed his love to you on his own, and offered you a romantic date night. To talk. And cuddle. No. Too much is at stake. You can not lose this.

“Oh, not very long.” Penguin snickers, trying not to laugh too openly, as the hours of crying are still plainly showing on your face.

“Yeah. I think we arrived around the time Law said he loves you.” Adds Shachi. Both are clearly trying their best to keep a straight face, failing miserably.

Shit. The cuddling. You are not giving up on the cuddling. “And… what do you plan to do with that information?” You try to sound as threatening as you can, which obviously doesn’t really work with your clogged nose and puffy face. It’s not like you and Law don’t cuddle, you do it every night before sleeping. But it’s always you who has to initiate it, and him “begrudgingly” agreeing, pretending like he hasn’t been waiting for you to ask the whole time.

Still, it seems to make an impression, making the two exchange uncertain glances. You take that as your chance to continue, moving a few steps closer to them.

“If you tell anyone about this, I will kill you.” You’re obviously exaggerating, but also very desperate to make them understand how tricky of a situation this is. “You heard what Law said. You know what’s at stake for me. I’ll do it.” Trying to seem confident, you place your hands on your sides, standing as straight as you can.

“Ok, ok, we get it.” They’re smirking again. Usually a bad sign. “We won’t tell anyone. For the right… how would you call it, Penguin?”

“Compensation.” Penguin helps his friend, cocking his head to the side to examine you.

“Yes! For the right compensation.” Shachi finishes, looking satisfied.

“Fine. Tell me what you want.” You sigh, too tired to play along. “Want me to do your chores for a week?”

“Oh.” It’s now Penguin who takes the word, pretending to be taken aback in a very obvious, over-the-top way. “This is awkward. We were thinking a month actually.”

“Fine.”

“Fine?” They seem surprised at how readily you accept their blackmail negotiation.

“Yes, fine. I’ll do it. If you promise me to never tell another soul about this. Least of all, Law.” You clarify, and to your relief, they shake hands with you, indicating that they accept your terms.

“Well, I have to go now. You know why.” You’re struggling to contain the delight in your voice, despite just having agreed to the worst deal of your entire life.

For now, all you can think about is Law expecting you in your shared room, and you don’t want to keep him waiting any longer. You’re thinking about the kiss again. Wondering if it would be easier to persuade Law to make out with you in his desk chair after such an emotional talk. You have a little time to kill before dinner is ready anyway, and are starting to miss the way his hands were holding your face.

Thanks for reading! <3 I hope you had fun :)

(also idk about the title, i'm really bad at those, but it's better than the original which was just "Law after a fight" lol)

#trafalgar law #trafalgar law x reader #one piece x reader #one piece fanfiction #one piece #one piece fluff #one piece angst #one piece hurt/comfort #trafalgar d water law

181 notes · View notes

sugarushwriting · 2 months ago

Text

red flag heeseung

tw/cw: controlling behavior, guns

i wrote this sooooo long ago, like last year when i first started posting?

i was going to do an entire red flag enhypen storyline but only got far with heeseung and jay

don’t want this sitting in my drafts so here yall go for entertainment! not proof read or updated since i first wrote this months ago!!!

₍ᐢ. .ᐢ₎ ₊˚⊹♡

“heeseung does this look cute?” you twirled for your boyfriend in your new outfit.

“where do you think you’re going?”

you pouted. “heeseung i told you me and the girls were going out tonight!”

“i don’t recall.” heeseung replied lazily continuing to play his game.

you crossed your arms. “heeseung, ive been telling you for the past week!” you raised your voice a bit. heeseung looked at you with an eyebrow raised pausing him game.

“i don’t recall me telling you that you could go.”

you bit your tongue then looked down to the ground, “heeseung it’s just, it’s my best friend’s birthday and i haven’t seen her in so long! i promised her i would go.”

“don’t make promises you can’t keep.” heeseung got up from his gaming chair. he kissed the top of your head. “now put some sweats on, let’s watch a movie.”

“but heeseung!”

“i said no, angel.” heeseung gave you the look which meant ‘the end’ of the conversation.

your pouting wouldn’t change his mind. “what if i wore—,”

“it doesn’t matter what you wear, angel, there are creeps out there and it’s my job to keep you safe.”

you walked up to your boyfriend grabbing his arm, “and you’re doing such a great job, babe!” you smiled kissing his cheek. “i will be safe.”

heeseung smiled, kissed your lips once. “no”

the entire night you had an attitude. you really liked heeseung, you did, but he was just so possessive and jealous to the point he’s controlling.

you literally learned this kind of behavior in classes, and always blamed those people for not noticing sooner. but now you were one of them.

you sat on the couch with heeseung, watching a movie, as his hand remained tight on your exposed thigh. you weren’t paying attention but he was laughing at whatever was being said.

your phone rang and you went to get it but heeseung beat you to it.

“she can’t make it tonight.” heeseung said into the phone. most likely to your best friend wondering where you were. you heard your friend screaming on the other end.

heeseung just smiled almost terrifyingly, but the smile was wiped off his face at something your friend said.

“goodbye, you are not to see her again.” he spat and hanging up the phone on your friend.

you swallowed, scared to ask what got him upset. about 10 minutes passed and heeseung’s grip had tightened to the point his nails were digging into your skin.

“ouch heeseung—,”

“what did you tell your friend about me? about us?”

“huh?”

heeseung’s dark eyes met yours. “she told me she had warned you about me. warned you about what angel? that im possessive and obsessed? that��s just because i love and care for you.”

heeseung’s tone kept getting deeper with every sentence, heavy breathing as he tried to control himself. he was good at controlling himself around others and in public.

you just made him crazy. mad almost.

his grip was threatening to leave a mark and he quickly let go, rubbing the spot soothingly, “sorry angel, i just don’t like people in our relationship.”

“it’s—it’s okay heeseung. i’m sorry, i won’t tell anyone else about us.”

heeseung smiled. “good girl.” he kissed your lips. “it’s getting late, why don’t we go to sleep?”

you didn’t dare to argue, so you followed heeseung to the bedroom, getting under the covers. he immediately pulled you close to his body, kissing you once.

it was a little after midnight, hearing heeseung softly snore you decided to get up out of bed without stirring him awake.

grabbing your phone, you snuck off to the living room sending your friend a text before immediately deleting the evidence knowing heeseung knew your passcode.

you tiptoed to the door picking up your shoes ready to sneak out until a hand landed on the door closing it.

a chest met your back, your body frozen in fear.

“where are you going this late?”

you turned to face heeseung, “the store. just to get some snacks. i woke up hungry.”

“you were going to go without me? ive told you its so dangerous out there angel. i cant have anything bad happening to you.”

heeseung rubbed your cheek with his thumb.

“so—sorry.” you mumbled looking down afraid to make eye contact with him.

“mhm? what? can’t look me in the eye knowing youre lying to me?” he spat.

looking up quickly, you tried to deny him but he held up his phone showing a text you had obviously sent to your friend.

you stuttered and utter confusion. looking up at him with knotted brows. “ho—how?”

“all your numbers were changed to mine.” heading whispered. “knew you were up to something.”

“heeseung,” you began to defend yourself but how?

“not going anywhere my angel. now let’s get back to bed.”

you walked back to the bedroom, dropping your shoes by the door. getting in bed, you quite literally could not comprehend how you got into a relationship like this. it happened so slowly and quickly.

laying down, you faced looking out the window as heeseung scooted your bodies closer so your back was to his chest.

in your ear he whispered, “try a stunt like that again and you’ll be punished. you belong to me and only me, understood? you ask for my permission first. i just care so much for you, i can’t lose you.”

“yes heeseung.” you replied softly.

︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶

days went past. then weeks.

two months later you’ve became accustomed to heeseung’s routine. his possessiveness. obsession. controlling side.

he told you what to wear. when to wake up. when to go to sleep. what to eat.

you’d only be able to go into public with him. never alone. he couldn’t risk losing you.

he also was telling you to eat more than usual. anytime you would object, stating you’re full, he’d throw his spiel that he just wants to make sure you’re fed.

in reality to believe he was doing it to make you gain weight to become unattractive in the eyes of other men.

you heard him once mutter under his breath, “if she gains anymore weight, no guy will look at her again.”

you haven’t been in contact with any of your family or friends. heeseung stating to them you were taking a break from the use of your phone so if they wanted to contact you, they had to contact him.

heeseung made you quit your job, stating you wanted to focus on your mental health.

“it’s time for me to put a baby in you, babe.” he said one night. sex with heeseung before hand was enjoyable. now it felt like a chore.

you felt slimy cause although the way he was treating you was a big red flag, sex with him was still pleasurable in many ways.

your body betrayed your mind.

today, in a long time, heeseung was taking you to lunch with his friends at a restaurant downtown. usually he would keep you home, keeping an eye on the nanny cams he set up throughout the apartment.

his friends had wanted to see you. heeseung tried to convince them you wouldn’t want to come, but they begged, not buying it.

you walked out of the bathroom, dressed in a simple graphic tshirt, blue jean shorts that rested a few inches above your knees, and simple sneakers.

“can—can i wear this?” you asked your boyfriend shyly.

heeseung turned to you after spraying his cologne. he smiled walking closer to you, wrapping his arms around your waist. ��mhm, you know i love you in shorts, but i think i would love you better in pants.” he slapped your butt once then went back to looking at himself in the mirror.

“but heeseung, it’s really humid outside today, and i don’t want to become overheated, you know?” you bit your lip anxiously.

heeseung quickly turned to you, watching you twirl your fingers, before he said your name sternly.

“heeseung, i—i can wear something over my behind, ok?” you grabbed the nearest long sleeve button down that belonged to heeseung and wrapped the sleeves around your waist then turned around. “see!”

heeseung huffed. “fine. but only cause we’re gonna be late if we don’t leave now.”

heeseung kept a protective hand on you the entire time. in the car he held your hand tightly. walking into the restaurant his hand grabbed the hem of your shirt, gripping it between to fingers, before he wrapped his arm around your waist.

at the booth, you sat in between him and the younger, ni-ki, heeseung’s left hand tightly gripped on your thigh.

“so, how have you been?” jungwon asked as he stuffed his face.

you nodded. “good.”

“we haven’t seen you in a while!” jake exclaimed.

“yeah, we were starting to think heeseung had you locked away in a basement.” jay stated.

“i don’t have a basement.” heeseung answered flatly.

“then, we started to think heeseung had you tied to his bed, leaving you for dead.” sunoo joked.

you chuckled nervously, quickly turning the attention away, “anyway, how are you all! how’s university life, ni-ki?”

as the boys explained updated in their life, heeseung kept adding food to your plate. and whether it was new found confidence or because you had witnesses and were in public, you had enough.

“heeseung, i’m full.”

“angel, you need to eat more.”

“but i can’t.” you shot back. “i am full heeseung. to the point if i eat anymore i will get sick.”

“don’t be spoiled or rude. it’s not nice to waste.”

“is it wasting if it’s not my food?” you looked at him angrily. he looked back at you with a blank face.

shit, you were in trouble.

“heeseung—,”

“here, we’ll eat it.” jungwon said, grabbing your plate and splitting it between sunghoon and jake.

you could see heeseung’s nose flare, and you swallowed nervously.

“i need to go to the bathroom.” you blurted, looking at heeseung waiting for him to move.

“i’ll go with you.” he said and got up.

“she can go to the bathroom herself, man.” jay said, continuing to eat.

“she’s a big girl, she can go potty by herself.” jake laughed.

heeseung shook his head. “no, i can take her.”

“sit down, hee!” sunghoon said pointedly. “she can go to the bathroom herself.”

you quickly removed yourself from the booth, going to the bathroom, leaving your phone behind.

the only thing you had was your id and a bit of cash.

heeseung didn’t like being talked to like a child. but sunghoon was scarier then himself when he wanted to be.

heeseung sighed, sitting down, anxiously counting down to the time you’d be back. he’ll give you five minutes, and not a second more.

with time ticking, you quickly used the bathroom, washing your hands, trying to calm yourself.

if you walked back out there, you were done for. you knew you’d be done for. a tear threatened to escape, but you didn’t have time.

you had to escape.

looking up, there was a window in the bathroom, that you could fit through. it was small, but you’d fit.

you wasted no time, squeezing yourself through the window, briefly cutting your knee on a piece of broken glass in the windowsill.

once outside the restaurant, you ran. you ran as fast as you could.

after six minutes (due to the boys mentioning girls can’t pee as fast as dudes), heeseung had enough, and got up to go check on you.

“she’s fine!” jay groaned after him but heeseung didn’t care. he had a bad feeling.

walking to the women’s restroom, an older woman was coming out and heeseung put on his best charming smile. “is there a young girl in there?” he asked, giving the description of you.

the lady shook her head. “no, no girl in there.”

heeseung frowned. “are you sure?”

the woman nodded then went back to her own table.

heeseung ignored all manners and walked in the women’s restroom seeing it empty. no sign of you.

he looked up seeing the women’s window in the bathroom was positioned high off the ground, and it was closed. but there was a tiny speck of of blood on the sill.

“she’s gone.” heeseung spat as he got back to the table.

“what do you mean she’s gone?” jake asked, ignoring the concern and urgency in his friend’s voice.

“she’s not in the damn bathroom!” heeseung said. he felt his chest tightening and the walls caving in. “shit!” he ran a hand through his hair banging his fist on the table.

“calm down dude!” ni-ki said to the oldest.

“maybe she left because she actually did get sick?” sunoo offered with a pout.

“and not say goodbye?” jake asked, eyebrow raised.

“try calling her.” sunghoon said.

heeseung quickly took out his phone from his pocket, dialing your number.

his heart quickened hearing your phone ringing.

ni-ki looked down beside him, seeing the abandoned phone, picking it up, handing it to heeseung.

“maybe it fell out of her pocket?” jungwon shrugged.

or maybe you left it on purpose.

“fuck this shit!” he yelled storming out of the restaurant.

sunghoon quickly followed behind his friend, ni-ki trailing behind.

“what the fuck man? calm your ass down!” sunghoon spat.

heeseung quickly turned, pointing a finger. “don’t tell me what to do, park.” heeseung was seeing red. his hand covered his mouth. he was thinking the worst. “i have to go.”

without even much a goodbye he left his friends in confusion.

you couldn’t have gotten far right? you were on foot, in a neighborhood you barely knew and you were injured, somewhere.

his hand gripped the steering wheel before slamming his fist.

what if you went to the cops? he’d just say you’re insane and going through an episode.

but you don’t have any medical history with mental illness. and they would screen you and you would sure pass.

he only knew one place you would find your way to.

your friends place.

︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶

you did find your way to your friend’s place. however she had moved. you went to her job and found her.

nothing needed to be exchanged or explained. she told everyone at her job not to tell anyone where she lived or that you had stopped by.

she quickly took you to her new place, a gated community on the other side of town.

heeseung knew where she used to live. not her new place. “i even got a new phone just in case that psycho was tracking me too.” she said.

“i’m so sorry.” you sobbed to your bestfriend on her bed.

“you have nothing to apologize for. i promise, i will help you get through this.”

“how?”

“well, we need to change your looks. luckily your bff is a hair dresser with mad skills! then, we need to change your name. i know a guy in the government that can help, no questions asked. then we get you on a plane to like hawaii or alaska.”

“we need to do that now!” you exclaimed sitting up quickly.

“we can do the first two things, but getting you to an airport is too risky. he’ll be watching most likely. trains or buses.”

that night, your friend dyed your hair to a completely different tone and color than what you had. now you understood why people didn’t recognize miley as hannah.

she texted her government friend, and he’d agreed to stop by the next day to help with the name change.

“we need to think of the most common name so if he tried to look you up, at least 100 other women would show up.”

you both agreed.

while over the next few days you and your friend plotted carefully, heeseung was driving himself mad.

your friend had moved. he went to her old place, threatened the new owner, and nearly got castrated by their partner.

he went to your friend’s job and common hang out spots, coworkers claiming they had no idea where your friend now lived (truth) and they hadn’t seen you (lie).

so, he waited outside her job. but you both were smart enough to realize heeseung may do that so she took off until you were safely out of the country.

when the time came to get on a plane with a different persona, you were anxious to say the least. but you knew you had to do this.

only carrying a duffle bag, you wore simple clothing, not wanting to bring too much attention to yourself, only shielding yourself with your new hair color and a hat.

you had 25 minutes until it was time to board your flight. your gripped your passport tightly to your chest, anxiously waiting.

you took in your surroundings, no one even paid attention to you which calmed you down a bit.

someone sat next to you. before you could even wonder why, with the plenty of spots empty, you smelled the familiar cologne.

your body froze.

a menacing chuckle fell from his lips, “you didn’t think you could get away that easy, huh angel?” he taunted.

he wouldn’t do anything irrational would he? you both were in public, with guards around.

you thought was answered when you felt something poke at your side, concealed from his jacket.

a gun.

how the fuck did he get a gun?

“heeseung don’t do anything stupid.” you whispered.

“i could say the same for you angel.” he spat, poking the weapon deeper into your side.

what you both didn’t notice was a younger couple had noticed the uncomfortable expression on your face, and the man noticed just a quick glance of the weapon. without making a fuss, the woman got up calmly to find an officer not in heeseungs view.

“do what i say, you won’t get hurt angel.”

you nodded slowly. “i’m sorry heeseung.”

“only sorry you got caught.” he scoffed.

three officers came up to you two, your eyes widened, heeseung remaining calm with a smile.

“is everything okay here?” one asked, directing his attention to you.

“yeah, everything is fine.” heeseung replied, not taking his eyes off of you, waiting for your response, digging the weapon deeper into your side.

“miss, mind coming with me for a few?”

you didn’t know if you should stay or get up.

“go on with them angel.” heeseung dared with a smile.

you slowly got up, and in a speed of light, heeseung had one arm wrapped against your neck, your back to his chest, gun pointed to your head.

the guards drew their own weapons, more coming to the commotion as people screamed and took cover.

“you make a move, i kill her!” heeseung shouted, cocking the gun.

“oh please no, heeseung! i’ll go with you, i’ll do whatever you want!”

“too late for that angel! i was nothing but good to you and this is how you pay me back?”

“put the weapon down, sir!” one cop yelled.

“if i can’t have my baby, then you all don’t deserve her either!”

baby. baby. baby!

“heeseung, baby, please put the gun down, please!”

he tightened his hold on you. “why should i listen to you, huh? and don’t promise you’ll be with me after this.” heeseung cried. “i know that’s a lie!”

“heeseung think of your baby!” you begged.

“i am thinking about you, baby.” he said kissing the top of your head, using your body as a shield.

“no, heeseung, your baby. our baby.”

heeseung froze, not sure if he understood you correct. “my—our baby?” he whispered, his voice shaking.

“look around hee, there’s children around. what if those were our kids hee? watching a stranger holding a gun to someone’s head?”

heeseung looked around seeing the kids you were talking about, hiding behind their parents.

“it—it worked?” heeseung smiled. “i got you pregnant?”

you nodded. “yes heeseung. please be a good father to our future child, and put the gun down. they need their dad.”

heeseung smiled and listened, putting the gun down. cops quickly got heeseung in cuffs, taking him away.

“i’m gonna be a dad!” he cheered.

a cop came up to you to escort you to an awaiting ambulance. “let’s get you and your baby checked out.”

you shook your head. “i’m not pregnant.”

︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶

the next time you saw heeseung was at his trial. and although you had a good lawyer he had a better one. one that ridiculed you to the max.

“so mr. lee, you’re telling me your girlfriend—at the time,” pointing to you, “enjoyed being manhandled and having rough sex?”

you argued, “i told him earlier in our relationship i liked dominate men, not to be abused!” you yelled.

that day, you learned just how gross and conniving heeseung and lawyers could be.

“mr. lee, you stated you even had evidence that she enjoyed rough sex? having it recorded?”

“what! i did not agree to that!” you objected.

you were being crucified, and although your lawyer and the judge tried their best to get it under control and throw out any evidence that wasn’t appropriate or approved, the jury had what they needed to make a decision even though they were told to ignore it.

to them, you were just a girl who thought she enjoyed bdsm but quickly realized you didn’t. making a quick decision to blame your boyfriend.

heeseung was found not guilty of domestic violence, abuse or assault. not guilty of unlawful imprisonment. he was only charged for unlawful possession of a firearm.

2 years. 24 months. he could get out in 6 months for good behavior.

“i’ll see you and my child in 6 months, angel.” heeseung smirked as handcuffs were placed on his wrists.

you looked him dead in the eyes, “i’m not pregnant. i never was.”

he frowned. he had no connection to you whatsoever now. he couldn’t control you through your child.

he failed.

₍ᐢ. .ᐢ₎ ₊˚⊹♡

#enhypen drabbles #fanfiction #engene #enhypen fanfiction #enhypen x reader #enhypen ot7 #enhypen heeseung #lee heeseung x you #lee heeseung drabble #lee heeseung #lee heeseung x y/n #lee heeseung x reader #heeseung drabble #heeseung x reader #heeseung #red flags

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satoruan · 1 year ago

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STOLEN TOUCHES — NANAMI KENTO

✧･ﾟ You were just trying to get a better angle.

( TW ) f!reader, stepdad!Nanami, highly suggestive, teasing, touched starved Nanami, age gap (reader is 26, Nanami is in his 40's).

note. this was just sitting in my drafts omg I forgot to post 😭 this is for the anon that requested!! sorry you had to wait so long i swear I thought it was queued!

Nanami steps into the dark foyer of his home, taking off his work shoes. He winces from the pain; he’s been running around like a headless chicken in the office. He was supposed to get off hours ago. Nanami shrugs his suit jacket off and hangs it on the small rack before turning the corner. A small part of him had wished you would’ve been up, watching TV in the living room, but as he walked further into the house you were nowhere to be seen. He sighs in disappointment before making his way upstairs.

Your mother isn’t waiting for him, obviously. She’s probably out with another one of her many men. God, he shouldn't have folded under pressure when she had asked him to open the 'monogamous’ relationship they had. His shoulders slump at the neatly made king-sized bed that sits in the corner of his room. He walks to his closet to grab a pair of satin pajamas you had bought him before making his way to the bathroom. He sets his clothes on the counter before stripping down to his boxers and walking over to the tub. He leans down to turn the water to the perfect temperature.

“Kenny!” You squeal wrapping your arms around his naked waist from behind. He jumps in surprise before grunting in pain.

“Kenny? What’s wrong? Did I hurt you?” You ask, pulling away. Kento turns quickly despite the pain and grabs your arms.

“Sweetheart! Nono, you didn’t hurt me. Why are you up?” He questions and you smile sweetly at him.

“Kenny don’t lie! And I'm up because I’m currently an unemployed twenty-six-year-old who had to move back home. Now,” You clap, stepping in-between his legs. “Tell me why you winced like I stabbed you and don’t lie.”

Nanami stuck in a breath and your close proximity.

“Jus’ had a long day at work that’s all. Stupid cramped muscles don't worry about it, sweetheart.” He answers in one long breath before inhaling your sweet smell. Was that too obvious?

“Well, I can give you a massage if you want, ‘cus my mom isn’t to give you one.” You spit on the last part before staring back up at your Stepdad.

“You don’t have—”

“Shush, I want to! C’mon, let's go to bed when you can get comfortable. We gotta hurry ‘fore your bath overfills.” You pull Kento's arm, dragging his heavy body up and out of the master bathroom.

"Sit—scoot a little further—no your back to the pillow silly!” You laugh.

“Aren’t you giving me a massage sweetheart?” Kento frowns, confused but complies anyways.

“Yep!” You lift a leg to the bed and blink your thick lashes at him before lifting the other and crawling onto his lap.

“Sweetheart—” Kento blushes, hands going to your hips to push you off but also to hold you there.

“Calm down Kenny! This is just a massage; I've read you can get the shoulders better this way,” You lie, putting your hand onto your stepdad's neck and squeezing. “Just shut your eyes and relax.” You whisper dragging your hands down Kento's’ arms. You squeeze your way back up before gliding your palms to his peaks and resting them on his hard nipples. He grunts when you dig your thumbs and knuckles into his chest, throwing his head back onto his headboard. His grip on your hips tightens and he swears he feels you sit on his lap.

“Feels good?” You mummer watching your stepdad's Adam apple move. You can’t help but bring your hands up and caresses it. Nanami groans.

“Mhm.”

“Sit up so I can get your back, Kenny.” You push on the back of his neck. You smile when his face falls into your chest. Before he has a chance to move you hold the back of his neck with one hand, the other squeezing at his shoulder blade.

Nanami can feel his cheeks heat in arousal. He hasn’t been touched like this in so long maybe he’s just imagining the tension between you two. He doesn’t have the balls to act on this anyway, he doesn’t want to scare you off.

“Sorry, gotta get comfortable.” You whisper in his ear as you grind down. You bite the inside of your cheeks when you feel his hard cock graze your pussy. Nanami holds in a groan. Fuck if you keep doing that, he's going to cum in his underwear.

“Sweetheart,”

“Hm?” You dig your knuckle onto tense knots in his back.

“Oh, fuck sweetheart, just like that.”

“Doin’ good Kenny?”

“Yes, b-but,” He breathes heavily on your breast. “But my bath waters gonna overfill.” He looks up at you. You move your hand to cup his neck.

“Oh, well how about we continue this in the tub?” You smile down at Kento. His eyes widen, mouth agape.

“What!?”

“Kidding! Gosh, look at your face! I’m gonna go watch some TV, goodnight. Have fun in your bath.” You crawl off his lap, giving him a good view of your ass in the short shorts you were wearing. You look back and smile innocently.

What you really meant to say was you were going to masturbate about what just happened. Don’t worry, Kento was going to too.

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minhosbitterriver · 9 months ago

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──── * ˚ ✦ ECHOES OF US ( stray kids )

❛ After a painful breakup, you and Jeongin struggle to maintain a civil front for your mutual friends, but when he accidentally calls you by your old pet name, unresolved emotions resurface, forcing you both to confront the lingering feelings between you.

𝐲𝐚𝐧𝐠 𝐣𝐞𝐨𝐧𝐠𝐢𝐧 + gender neutral reader ೯ ( 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐜𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐧𝐬 )

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 12.6k 𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐞: 50 mins

꒰ 💌 ꒱ ミ Say hello to my very first long-fic! It took me an eternity to get this done, but I'm actually very proud of how it turned out! Also, my very rough draft for this was accidentally posted a few days ago, so if you saw that...no you didn't! This was anonymously requested! (Anon, I'm sorry it took me a hot minute to finally finish this, but I hope I made up for it with how long it ended up being 🫠) Reblogs for this teaser are always appreciated! Requests are currently open! ── ( 𝐥𝐢𝐛𝐫𝐚𝐫𝐲 )

𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: Mentions of sibling death and grief, very brief mention of a dysfunctional home, use of they-them pronouns for Y/N, brief explanation of sibling death, Y/N's sibling has their own name, mentions of being abandoned, heartbreak, awkward re-encounter after almost a year, discussions on mental health, a whole lot of angst, comforting ending, let me know if I missed anything!

( 𝐠𝐮𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐞𝐬 ) ( 𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 & 𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐧𝐬 ) ( 𝐫𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭 𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 ) ( 𝐭𝐢𝐩 𝐣𝐚𝐫 )

When Jeongin stepped through the door he had once shared with you, a sense of dread already coiled tightly around his heart, squeezing with every breath. He knew you'd kept your promise to move out by the end of the week, but the reality of it hit harder than he could have imagined. The front hallway, once cluttered with a chaotic jumble of shoes that you always left haphazardly by the entrance, now stood painfully bare, save for his own neatly aligned row of frequently worn sneakers. The absence of your presence echoed louder than any argument ever had, and suddenly he found himself longing for those moments of trivial annoyance—wishing, with a deep, aching desire, that he could quarrel with you about it just once more.

He kicked off his sneakers, setting them carefully amongst the rest of his now lonely footwear. For a moment, he stood there, hesitant, almost willing to call out your name, hoping against hope that you might answer from the bedroom or kitchen, your voice cutting through the oppressive silence that now smothered the apartment. But he knew better. He moved forward with heavy steps, not even bothering to put on his house slippers. The silence that greeted him as he wandered further inside was a deafening reminder of what he had lost. You were gone, and with you, the vibrant energy that had once filled these walls had vanished too.

The living room—once a collage of your combined tastes—was now stripped of the personal touches that made it home. The furniture remained, the couch where you both had laughed and argued, the coffee table marked with rings from careless mugs of tea during lazy mornings. Yet, all the little decorations, the framed art you insisted on hanging, the plants you’d tried so hard to keep alive—they had all disappeared with you. The emptiness was jarring, like a canvas half-painted and abruptly abandoned, leaving every wall and surface barren, the once warm and cozy atmosphere now reduced to a cold, unfamiliar space.

By the time Jeongin reached the bedroom, the last thread of his fragile composure snapped. The bed—where countless memories had been woven—was stripped down to its bare mattress, the sheets gone. The framed photographs of the two of you were turned face down on the bedside table, as if you couldn’t bear to look at them one last time. His eyes moved to the corner where your ridiculously large collection of stuffed animals had once spilled over, crowding half of the bed. That too was empty now. An overwhelming wave of loss washed over him, dragging him to his knees.

Jeongin's breath came out in shaky gasps as he looked around the hollow shell of what had been your shared sanctuary. You were truly gone. Though he had been the one to end things between you, a decision made in a moment of confusion and pride, he was still hopelessly, painfully in love with you. The realization of his own foolishness crashed over him with unbearable weight, suffocating him in the silence that was once filled with your laughter, your presence, and your love.

Jeongin couldn’t summon a shred of resentment toward you, even if he tried. He understood, all too painfully, that everything that had unraveled between you over the past year was nothing but a sorrowful consequence of your grief. You had once been a soul overflowing with light, always searching for the silver lining amidst the clouds, a spirit who could find a glimmer of hope even in the darkest of times. You, who would often conspire with his mischievous best friend, Seungmin, forming a relentless duo to tease him until he’d feign a pout, forcing you to shower him with kisses until he laughed again. You, who came home every evening brimming with stories about the children you counseled at the school, your eyes alight with passion and care for each of them. All that Jeongin had loved so deeply about you seemed to have been buried alongside your sister, Nari, and this loss was a truth he still grappled with, even now.

As he crawled onto the empty, cold bed that had once been a warm sanctuary for both of you, Jeongin curled into himself, his body folding inward as if trying to shield himself from the harsh reality. His sobs came in ragged waves, tearing through him so violently that he trembled, his breath hitching with each shaky inhale. He missed you more than words could convey—he missed everything about you. The sound of your laughter echoed in his mind like a haunting melody, its tones shifting with your moods: soft and lyrical when merely amused, and loud, unrestrained when joy truly overwhelmed you. He missed those sounds, the ones that used to fill this now desolate space with life and love.

He missed the lazy afternoons you'd spend together, brainstorming new exercises for his music therapy sessions. Those moments would often devolve into impromptu concerts, filled with your carefree, barefoot dancing across the living room floor and his voice following your lead, blending into a harmony of shared happiness. It was in those moments that everything felt right in the world, where nothing existed but the two of you, lost in your own little universe of melodies and movements. He missed those afternoons like one misses the warmth of the sun after too many days of rain.

He missed teasing you in those quiet moments when you were deeply focused, often catching you sticking your tongue out ever so slightly—a quirk of concentration that never failed to endear him. He’d gently pinch it between his fingers, earning himself a mildly exasperated huff as you’d swat his hand away. But he knew that a smile would inevitably creep up on your lips, and you’d turn away to hide it, cheeks flushing with a mix of amusement and affection. It was the kind of simple, tender moment that spoke volumes about the depth of your bond, a bond that now felt irreparably severed.

Every corner of this home whispered memories of you, and he was haunted by them all—the good, the bad, the ones that made him laugh, and especially those that made him cry. Your absence left a void that nothing could fill, a hollow silence where there had once been laughter and love. And even though he knew it was your grief that had driven a wedge between you, he couldn’t help but wish he could find a way back to you, to the person you used to be, and to the love that once made him feel whole.

The night that shattered your world was meant to be a day of celebration: your younger sister Nari’s high school graduation. Jeongin could still see you in his mind's eye that morning, almost vibrating with pure, uncontainable joy. Your eyes were bright, brimming with excitement, and your smile—so wide and beautiful—tugged at his heart each time it graced your lips. Nari was the center of your universe, your pride, your joy, your true soulmate in a world that often felt uncertain and cold. You had been more than just a sister to her; you had been her guardian, her comforter, her everything. You were the one who took on the weight of raising her through the chaotic turmoil of your parents' messy divorce, providing stability where there was none.

Jeongin could recall countless times Nari would recount how you shielded her from the constant, venomous arguments that echoed through your childhood home. Despite your own young age, you found ways to distract her, to pull her out of the chaos—whether it was with whispered jokes or made-up games that filled her mind with something brighter than the screaming. To Nari, you were a star, someone who had hung the moon just for her. She often spoke with a mix of awe and adoration about the afternoons you both spent sneaking into the little ice cream shop on the way home from school, spending hours laughing over melting cones until you were sure your mother had left for work.

Jeongin also remembered the quiet, tender moments he would witness after you had graduated and moved out. Nights when Nari would sleep over, curled up beside you, as if you were her very own safe haven in a world that could be so unforgiving. There was a beauty in how you held her close, how you seemed to provide her with an anchor when everything else felt adrift. Yet, no relationship, no matter how deeply cherished, is without its storms. For as vividly as Jeongin could remember the soft, loving moments, he could just as clearly recall the bitter weeks leading up to Nari's graduation—weeks marked by harsh words and heated arguments.

You and Nari shared many things—your fierce loyalty, your protective instincts—but perhaps most notably, the sharp edge of your words. When tempers flared, both of you possessed a mercilessly cutting tongue that could lash out with a force that left deep, stinging wounds. Jeongin hated those fights, hated the cruel things you would shout at each other in the heat of the moment, words that cut so deeply and yet meant nothing once the anger faded. The conflict had started when Nari began dating an older guy who had already graduated. Neither you nor Jeongin liked him, sensing the danger in his recklessness, his penchant for illegal activities that threatened to drag your sister down a path she wasn't prepared for. But Nari, stubborn and convinced she had found the love of her life, refused to listen. The tension between you both grew unbearable, each argument driving another wedge between you and your beloved sister, and Jeongin could do nothing but stand helplessly on the sidelines, watching as she slowly pushed you away.

The real fracture came on what should have been a night of celebration. Nari was supposed to have dinner with you and Jeongin to celebrate her graduation. She promised to meet you both, to share in the joy of her achievement, but instead, she turned off her phone and ran off with her boyfriend to a party that everyone knew would be dangerous. For hours, you and Jeongin called and texted, reaching out to everyone who might have known where she was, each unanswered ring heightening the tension, every minute stretching into a painful eternity.

And then, the call came—the one that brought your entire world crashing down. Nari had been found dead inside her boyfriend’s car. Both were intoxicated when he decided to drive, his recklessness steering them straight into a tree. The impact killed them both instantly.

Jeongin would never forget the sound that tore through you in that moment, a wail of agony so deep and raw it seemed to shatter the very air around you. It was a sound that would forever echo in his heart, a haunting melody of a love lost too soon and a pain that could never be soothed.

The piercing sound of Jeongin's phone ringing in his back pocket cut through the thick, oppressive fog of memories that had been drowning him ever since he stepped into the cold, empty apartment that was once alive with the warmth of your shared moments. His body still trembled with the aftershocks of his own heartbreak, his face still wet with a cascade of tears that seemed endless. For a moment, he considered ignoring it, letting it fade away into the void of everything else that felt lost to him. But something compelled him to move, to reach into his pocket and pull out his phone. The screen flashed with a name: Chan.

Jeongin’s first instinct was to let it ring out. He wasn’t sure he could bear the gentle, pity-laden concern he knew he would hear in Chan’s voice. The idea of facing someone else’s worry, of being forced to articulate the emptiness clawing at his chest, felt like too much. But he also knew that Chan wasn’t just calling for the sake of it—he was worried. Maybe that thought, the notion that someone still cared enough to reach out, was what finally convinced Jeongin to answer. With a shaky breath, he pressed the phone to his ear.

“Yes?” His voice came out rough and broken, as if he’d swallowed shards of glass, a hoarse rasp that even he barely recognized. On the other end, there was a sharp intake of breath, a small hitch that spoke volumes, followed by the sound of Chan clearing his throat in that awkward, nervous way he had when he didn’t know how to approach a delicate subject.

“Hey, how are you holding up?” Chan’s voice was gentle, tentative, as if afraid that anything more might cause Jeongin to shatter completely. The simple question, so innocuous yet loaded with care, brought fresh tears to Jeongin’s eyes. He swallowed thickly, trying to keep his composure, not wanting to add more weight to Chan’s worry.

“As well as I can be...everything is gone.” The words felt heavy on his tongue, sinking like stones into the silence that followed. There was a sigh on the other end, deep and empathetic, filled with an understanding that was both comforting and unbearable.

“I’ll stop by later, yeah?” Chan’s offer came with a note of encouragement, trying to lift the heavy blanket of despair. “I can bring Minho so he can cook you some food, and we can figure out what comes next.” There was kindness in his words, an attempt to pull Jeongin from the pit he’d found himself in, but the weight pressing on Jeongin’s chest didn’t budge, didn’t ease in the slightest.

“Maybe another time, Channie, thank you,” Jeongin murmured, his voice carrying the exhaustion of someone who had been running a losing race against his own emotions. “I think I just need a few days alone.” The silence that stretched between them after was telling, thick with Chan’s unspoken disapproval. Jeongin could almost see the frown on his friend’s face, the way he’d be chewing on his lip, holding back what he really wanted to say.

Eventually, Chan spoke again, his tone carefully measured, almost as if he were walking on eggshells. “Right. Um, hey...Felix wanted to pay Y/N a visit to make sure everything’s alright and to help with the moving. The problem is, none of us really know where they moved, and we thought that maybe they might’ve told you or something?”

The mention of your name was like a punch to the gut, a sharp twist of the knife that had already been embedded in his heart. Jeongin’s breath caught, and he could feel his throat tightening, the sting of tears threatening to spill over once more. He squeezed his eyes shut, willing himself to stay composed, to not break apart all over again.

“No,” he sighed after a moment, rolling onto his back and staring up at the empty, featureless ceiling that seemed to stretch on like an abyss. “I thought you guys would’ve known... but maybe Y/N needs some time alone for a while too. I’m sure they’ll call when they’re ready.”

The words felt hollow, a brittle hope that tasted more like ash on his tongue, but it was all he could offer. And in the silence that followed, Jeongin could only listen to the faint sound of Chan’s breathing, the weight of their shared helplessness settling in like a cold, unwelcome presence in the room.

Jeongin had clung to a fragile hope that, in time, you would reach out to the circle of friends who had once been your shared lifeline. He never imagined that you would confide in him directly—he knew all too well that the pain of his departure still festered like an open wound. You had made it painfully clear how much you resented him for breaking things off when you needed him most. He could still hear your voice, raw with anger and hurt, echoing in his mind as you stormed out of the apartment for the last time.

But never in his darkest nightmares had he expected you to vanish completely, as if swallowed by the earth itself. There wasn't even a whisper of your whereabouts, not the faintest trace left behind to hint at where you might have gone. It was as if you had been erased from existence. When you left, you didn't just walk out of Jeongin's life—you walked away from everything that had tied you to this place. You resigned from your job as a school counselor, the one located just a short distance from Jeongin’s apartment where you had once found solace in guiding young lives through their own turmoil. Your phone number had changed, your social media accounts lay abandoned and untouched, gathering digital dust like forgotten relics of a past life.

For what felt like an eternity, each member of your once tightly-knit group of friends wore the weight of worry like a second skin, tirelessly searching for any sign of you, some confirmation that you were still out there, somewhere, still breathing. Nights were spent in hushed conversations and whispered theories, each one more desperate than the last, wondering if you were even alive. The silence you left in your wake was deafening, a void that consumed every bit of hope they tried to hold onto.

Yet, as the months dragged on and there was still no word—no signal, no letter, not even a single fleeting message—Jeongin and the others were forced to confront a harsh new reality. The absence of your presence became a palpable thing, a hollow emptiness that settled in their chests. Slowly, reluctantly, they began to understand that they might never see you again. And in that painful understanding, they had no choice but to piece together their broken hearts and try, however feebly, to move forward.

But even as they moved on, a part of Jeongin remained anchored in that lingering silence, waiting for the day it would finally break.

✦•······················•✦•······················•✦

Eight months had passed since you vanished without a word, leaving behind a void that swallowed everything and everyone you once knew. Jeongin found himself seated on a low stool in the center of his sunlit office, a space designed to cradle broken spirits. The room was filled with warmth, the soft, earth-toned walls bathed in a gentle, golden glow that made it feel like a sanctuary amidst the chaos. Around him, cushions were scattered like islands of comfort, and the soft hum of a guitar rested against his body, its strings vibrating gently with each subtle shift of his calloused fingers.

In front of him, a small group sat in a circle, each person a vessel of silent sorrow. Some had their eyes shut tight, trying to shut out the world, while others stared ahead, their gazes distant, lost in the labyrinth of their own pain. Today’s session was centered around grief—a familiar theme that Jeongin had come to understand all too well. His eyes swept over the group, his expression soft and understanding, a silent invitation for them to share their burdens. Directly across from him, a young woman who had recently lost her mother sat rigid, her shoulders taut as bowstrings, her fingers anxiously picking at the frayed edge of her sleeve. Beside her, an elderly man kept his gaze fixed on his wrinkled hands, folded so tightly in his lap it seemed as if he was afraid he might fall apart if he let go.

Jeongin's fingers began to dance over the guitar strings, coaxing out a few gentle notes that floated through the room like a soft breeze on a warm day. The melody was simple, almost like a lullaby—tender and soothing, a soft hand reaching out in the enveloping darkness. It was a song he had crafted with your help, your voice whispering in his mind, guiding the melody with your mesmerizing ideas and gentle critiques. He tried not to think of you now, of the countless hours you'd spent together creating this very piece, but the memory lingered like a ghost.

“Let’s take a deep breath,” he murmured, his voice a low hum that barely rose above the delicate strumming. “Breathe in... and out. Feel the music as it moves through you.” His voice was smooth and warm as he began to sing, threading through the air like a comforting embrace. The lyrics were a balm for weary souls, speaking of finding peace amid the storm, of a quiet place where one could lay down their burdens. He watched the room with quiet intent, observing as the music began to weave its subtle magic.

The young woman’s shoulders, once so tense, began to loosen ever so slightly, her breath easing into a more natural rhythm. The elderly man’s grip on his hands softened, his fingers unclenching as if the melody had given him permission to let go, if only for a moment. Jeongin’s heart ached as he shifted the melody into a new key, a hint of melancholy now woven into the notes. His voice leaned into the emotion, allowing it to crack and falter in just the right places, like a mirror reflecting the fractures of a breaking heart.

He knew the power of those small imperfections—the way a slight fracture in the music could resonate with the cracks in a person’s soul, giving them the courage to confront their own pain. The room felt heavy with unspoken sorrow, yet somehow lighter, too, as if each note was drawing out a little of the darkness from within. And as he continued to sing, Jeongin allowed himself to feel the weight of his own grief, letting it pour into the song, knowing that sometimes, in the quiet beauty of shared pain, there was a kind of healing.

Moments later, a soft sob broke the fragile silence. The young woman's face crumpled as she brought a trembling hand to her mouth, tears spilling down her cheeks in rivulets that caught the light. Jeongin’s heart ached for her, a deep, familiar pain unfurling in his chest. His mind flashed back to countless moments where he had seen that same expression etched across your own face—the anguish, the vulnerability. But he didn’t stop playing. Instead, he allowed the melody to swell, his fingers coaxing the guitar strings through the dark waters of sorrow and guiding them back toward a glimmer of hope, like a lighthouse in a storm.

“Let it out,” he murmured, his voice a soft, comforting undertone to the music. “There’s no need to hold back here.” His words were a gentle invitation, a permission to release the emotions that had been held back for far too long. And as if on cue, the room filled with the raw sounds of grief—soft, stifled sobs, muffled cries, the quiet sniffles of those who had long forgotten how to weep openly. Jeongin continued to play, his music becoming a vessel for their pain, a safe harbor where tears could flow without shame or judgment.

Across the circle, he caught a glimpse of the elderly man, his head bowed low, his lips quivering as he mouthed the words of the song. His eyes were squeezed shut, as if trying to ward off a memory too painful to face. Jeongin’s gaze softened, and he let the melody shift, his fingers moving with practiced ease into something softer, gentler—like a lull after the fury of a storm. Each note was deliberate, a quiet caress to soothe the raw edges of the room's collective sorrow. He watched as the weight of grief began to lift, ever so slightly, and the room took a deep breath, exhaling the heaviness that had clung to them like a shadow.

When the final note faded into the stillness, Jeongin let the silence settle, heavy but not suffocating. He set his guitar down gently, his eyes meeting each person’s in turn, offering a silent acknowledgment of their pain. “Thank you for sharing this space with me,” he said, his voice a soft balm even as his own heart bore the scars of past regrets. Too often did Jeongin lose sleep over how he, despite his profession, had failed to help you through your own grief. “Grief is heavy, but together, we can carry it, even if just for a moment.”

The young woman wiped at her tears, her face still etched with the rawness of her emotions, but in her eyes, there was a faint spark—a glimmer of relief, as if, for the first time in a long while, she felt a little less alone. The elderly man’s shoulders sagged, a heavy breath escaping his lips, as though a burden had been lifted, if only for a moment. Jeongin offered a small, gentle smile, a subtle curve of his lips that spoke of understanding and quiet encouragement. He picked up his guitar again, fingers brushing against the strings with a familiar, comforting touch.

“How about we end with something light?” he suggested, strumming a few upbeat chords, his eyes brightening with a hint of mischief. “Maybe a song that reminds us of hope. Even when it’s hard to see, it’s always there… waiting for us.” His words hung in the air like a promise, a tender reminder that there was light even in the darkest of places.

And so, with his voice soft but steady, Jeongin led them into another song—one that spoke of healing, of finding strength in the most shattered places, and of a quiet, enduring joy that could bloom even in the darkest seasons of life. This was a song Jeongin had written and composed in the wake of your absence, in the silence that followed your sudden departure. It was a song born of hope, crafted in those long months of not knowing, a song he had always dreamed of sharing with you. And as he sang, he let that hope fill the room, weaving through the notes, a quiet, resilient thread that held the promise of brighter days.

Nearly thirty minutes had passed since the group therapy session had officially ended, but Jeongin's office was still filled with the quiet shuffling of his patients gradually making their way out. This wasn't unusual; some of them often lingered, seeking a few more moments to connect or share their thoughts, and Jeongin never minded. He found these moments invaluable—an opportunity to touch base, to offer a final bit of encouragement or reassurance.

As Jeongin turned to watch the last patient leave, he was surprised to find his friend Changbin leaning against the doorframe. Changbin’s muscular arms were crossed over his broad chest, his eyes twinkling with a mix of admiration and amusement. A soft smile tugged at the corners of his lips, and it only grew wider when Jeongin’s gaze finally met his. "Bin," Jeongin greeted with a slight bow, his dimples appearing as he returned his friend's smile. He moved toward his desk on the opposite end of the room, a space that served as both his office and a therapy room within the clinic.

Without waiting for an invitation, Changbin followed him, settling himself comfortably into the leather chair meant for Jeongin. With a roll of his eyes and a shake of his head, Jeongin let out a small huff of amusement at his friend's antics. He took a seat in one of the smaller chairs intended for his patients, his gaze fixed on Changbin. "What are you doing here?" Jeongin finally asked, watching his friend lounging back in the chair, hands interlocked casually behind his head.

Changbin's playful demeanor slowly shifted, his eyes losing their mischievous spark as they settled into something more serious. He sighed, leaning forward to rest his forearms on Jeongin's desk, the sudden shift in atmosphere making Jeongin's heart pick up a little in pace. He tried to keep his expression soft, maintaining a small smile even as he braced himself for whatever Changbin had come to say.

For a moment, the room was filled with a heavy silence as Changbin seemed to struggle with his words, his brows furrowing in thought. Finally, he cleared his throat and spoke, "You know how Yongbok and Hannie wanted to have a joint celebration for their birthdays this Friday, right?" Jeongin's brows knit together in confusion; he hadn’t expected such a mundane topic. Still, he nodded, waiting for the real reason behind Changbin's visit.

"Well, everything will be pretty much the same... but we wanted to tell you this before you showed up." Changbin paused, his worried eyes meeting Jeongin's increasingly anxious gaze. After a deep breath, he continued, "Y/N moved back here a little over a week ago and reached out to us almost immediately. We helped them settle back down, and we've been spending some time with them, catching up on everything. Yongbok and Hannie wanted them to be included in their birthday celebration, but we also wanted to check in with you. Make sure you're okay with that first."

Jeongin felt his entire world tilt on its axis, Changbin's words crashing into him like a wave he hadn’t braced for. A million questions stormed through his mind, so fast and furious that he couldn’t quite grasp a single one. "Wait." His hand shot up, signaling his need for a pause as he shifted forward, perching on the edge of his chair. His voice, tinged with betrayal and hurt, spilled out in a rushed breath, "What do you mean Y/N moved back here a week ago? Why am I just learning about this now?"

A look of guilt shadowed Changbin's face, his expression softening with regret. "Y/N asked us not to tell you for a little bit because they weren't ready to handle it yet... but now that everything's settled, they have a new job and everything—Y/N is ready to meet with you if you'd like." He hesitated, and a flicker of panic widened his eyes as he quickly added, "But you didn't hear that last part from me. Y/N wanted to be the one to reach out at some point today or tomorrow."

The silence that followed was heavy, all-consuming, wrapping around Jeongin like a thick fog. He struggled to wrap his mind around the news of your return, the idea of seeing you again so unexpectedly unsettling. The weight of your absence, the questions left unanswered, all resurfaced in that single moment, leaving him adrift in a sea of emotions he wasn’t prepared to face.

Jeongin didn't quite know how to feel about you moving back into town after leaving him without so much as a goodbye. The news of your return stirred a storm of emotions within him, each one more complicated than the last. On one hand, he understood your reasons for leaving—the desperate need to escape from everything that reminded you of your younger sister, Nari, and the weight of your relationship with him, which had grown heavy with grief and unresolved pain. He could see why you had to flee, to distance yourself from the memories that clung to every corner of the town like shadows that wouldn't let you breathe.

But understanding didn't erase the sting of abandonment. Jeongin couldn't ignore the countless sleepless nights he’d endured, his mind spiraling into an abyss of what-ifs and could-have-beens. He thought back to the moments when your relationship had still felt beautiful and safe, long before it had quietly begun to crumble beneath the weight of tragedy. In truth, he realized, the love between you had started to fray the very moment you received the devastating news of Nari’s fatal accident. It had unraveled slowly, painfully, until there was nothing left but a hollow shell of what once was. By the time he officially ended things, the love you shared had already been gone, replaced by a haunting emptiness.

For months after you left, Jeongin had nearly driven himself to madness, caught in a vicious cycle of regret and self-blame. Every waking moment was spent agonizing over all the different ways he might have pulled you out of your grief. Could he have said something different, done something more? Could he have been more patient, more understanding? He had replayed these thoughts over and over, like a broken record stuck on a painful refrain. There was a time when he couldn’t even look at his own reflection without being reminded of his failure—his inability to be the anchor you needed in the storm of your sorrow. He blamed himself for your sudden departure, believing that if he had fought for you a little harder, if he had held on just a bit longer, maybe things would have turned out differently.

Slowly, though, Jeongin had begun to emerge from the shadows of his own grief. He had started to come to terms with the loss—not just of Nari, whom he had loved deeply through you, but also the loss of the future he had imagined with you by his side. He’d begun to accept that his own heartbreak, mixed with the suffocating weight of guilt, was something he needed to release in order to move forward. Jeongin had finally allowed himself to realize that in the grand scheme of things, staying by your side would have meant losing himself in the process, trying to bring back a version of you that had vanished the day Nari did. He’d come to understand that you were never going to be the same person again, and neither was he.

And now, just when he was starting to find a semblance of peace, you chose this moment to step back into his life. It felt like the ground he had just managed to steady himself on was beginning to shake once more. Jeongin wasn’t sure if he was ready to face you again, to reopen wounds that were only just beginning to scar over. Yet, there was also a flicker of something else—a hope, perhaps, or maybe just curiosity—about what this new chapter could bring. But whatever it was, it left him feeling unsettled, standing on the precipice of a past he had tried so hard to leave behind.

As his mind continued to swirl with a torrent of thoughts, Jeongin was startled by the bitterness that began to simmer beneath the surface of his heart. The resentment was unexpected, an emotion so potent that it almost frightened him. It clawed at him, leaving a sour taste in his mouth, a stark contrast to the calm demeanor he usually carried. But as his gaze lifted, his eyes locked with Changbin's, and he saw the concern etched in his friend's face. The anxiety in Changbin's sincere eyes was unmistakable, quietly tracking the cascade of emotions that flickered across Jeongin's vulnerable features like a storm passing through.

Despite the sharp sting of betrayal—the feeling of being kept in the dark by his closest friends, who had not only hidden your return from him but also lied to him so they could spend time with you—Jeongin found a small measure of solace in Changbin’s quiet empathy. It was as if Changbin's presence anchored him, a silent reassurance that he wasn’t navigating these turbulent waters alone. In that brief moment, Jeongin’s chaotic thoughts cleared enough for him to take a deep, steadying breath. He slumped back into his chair, his eyes dropping to his sneakers, suddenly feeling the weight of his own exhaustion. His shoulders sagged, heavy with the burden of emotions he could no longer ignore.

"I don’t know if I’ll be ready to meet with Y/N before the party," Jeongin confessed in a low murmur meant only for Changbin’s ears. The sadness in his voice was unmistakable, a raw and tender ache that clung to every word. He took a moment, trying to gather his thoughts that seemed to scatter like leaves in the wind. "But I’m not going to stand in the way of Y/N joining the birthday party—especially since it’s not my place to decide that. I’ll still be there, and I want to be as civil as possible. So, please, don’t let anyone make it more awkward than it needs to be, or I don’t think I’ll be able to handle it."

His voice trembled by the end, his courage wavering as he finally lifted his eyes to meet Changbin's once more. There was a flicker of something fragile there, something almost hopeful, despite the tangled mess of his emotions. Changbin nodded, a soft smile pulling at his lips, a small gesture of gratitude and understanding. He stood up, moving closer to lay a firm, reassuring hand on Jeongin’s shoulder—a rare show of affection, knowing how Jeongin tended to shy away from touch, especially when his emotions were laid bare like this.

"I’ll talk to the boys," Changbin promised, his voice steady, grounding. It was the most he could offer in that moment, aware of how delicate the situation was.

With that, Changbin turned and quietly exited Jeongin's office, leaving the younger man alone with his thoughts. The room seemed to close in around him, heavy with the weight of everything he was yet to fully comprehend. Jeongin remained seated, lost in the labyrinth of his own complicated emotions—anger, sadness, regret, and something else, something almost like a glimmer of hope—all swirling together in a chaotic dance that he had no idea how to untangle.

✦•······················•✦•······················•✦

In the three days leading up to the eagerly awaited joint birthday party on Friday—an event hosted by Chan for Felix and Jisung—Jeongin found himself ensnared in a relentless spiral of anxiety and anticipation. The looming prospect of encountering you after nearly a year of absence gnawed at him with a persistence that bordered on torment. He grappled with a thousand imagined scenarios, each one an intricate tapestry of potential outcomes and emotional landmines. The uncertainty was a constant, unsettling presence in his life.

Jeongin’s small apartment, once shared with you, had become a labyrinth of memories and regrets. He often wandered its confines, the soft thud of his footsteps a mournful echo of the unease that had taken residence in his chest. The apartment seemed to sigh with each step he took, as if mourning the lost echoes of a time when you had been there. Despite his efforts to bury himself in work, the thought of you lingered like an unwelcome shadow, a constant undercurrent that refused to be ignored. He would catch himself staring at his phone, repeatedly re-reading the message you had sent him just hours after Changbin’s visit—a message that had become both a lifeline and a tormentor.

Your text, which read:

Hey, Jeongin. It’s been a while. I know I left without much of an explanation and cut off contact... I’m sorry for how I handled things. I’m sorry for a lot of things, actually. But I wasn’t in the best place back then, and I needed time to figure things out on my own. I’m back in town now, and I’d like to talk sometime if you’re open to it. No pressure—I just feel like there are a lot of things that were left unsaid between us. Take care!

Every time Jeongin read these words, a storm of emotions would churn within him. The initial formality of your greeting felt like a cold draft from a distant past, a stark contrast to the warmth that had once existed between you. The passage of time loomed large, a reminder of the endless stretch of days that had passed since your sudden disappearance. He was struck by a poignant blend of nostalgia and pain, the abruptness of your departure a constant reminder of how unfinished your story had been.

Your apology, though a balm of sorts, stirred a complicated mix of relief and frustration within him. On one hand, it acknowledged the hurt you had caused, but on the other, it left a multitude of unresolved questions hanging in the air. Why did you leave so suddenly? Why did you sever all contact? Jeongin understood that you were not in a good place and needed space, but that understanding did little to soothe the sting of abandonment he felt. The sense of being left in the dark, coupled with a profound sadness over his inability to help you, left him grappling with a blend of guilt and anger.

The mention of wanting to talk now jolted him, a surge of conflicting emotions rushing to the surface. He was torn between the desire to reconnect and the fear of reopening old wounds. The prospect of addressing the myriad of things left unsaid between you brought with it a flood of memories—regrets, unresolved issues, and a yearning for closure. Each re-reading of your message plunged him deeper into a whirlpool of complicated thoughts and emotions, the turbulence of his feelings both paralyzing and consuming.

Ultimately, Jeongin found himself unable to craft a suitable response, and so he chose silence. His decision not to reply was one shrouded in uncertainty, a choice that left him questioning whether it was the right one. The silence that followed was both a refuge and a torment, a delicate balance between preserving his own peace and the unresolved echo of your return.

The night of the party arrived under a canopy of crisp, clear sky, the stars shimmering with an almost mocking brilliance. Jeongin drifted through the evening like a specter, his senses overwhelmed by a world that seemed too bright, too noisy, and far too indifferent to his turmoil. His apartment, once a sanctuary, had become a chaotic jumble of discarded outfits—each one cast aside with a frustrated sigh and a sense of resignation. The fabric of his clothes lay strewn about like the remnants of a battle fought and lost against his own anxiety. Nothing felt right, and the more he tried, the more he was convinced that nothing ever would.

Eventually, he settled on a modest ensemble—simple, unobtrusive, and devoid of any hint of personal flair. As he dressed, he glanced at his reflection in the mirror, and what he saw was a stranger staring back—an image of confusion and trepidation. He attempted a smile, one that was supposed to be confident and reassuring, but it fell flat, a mere shadow of what he hoped to project. By the time he arrived at Chan's place, his nerves were a live wire, sparking and fizzing with every heartbeat.

The apartment, already abuzz with the lively hum of music and the warm murmur of laughter, was suffused with the rich, inviting aroma of a feast. Jeongin took a deep breath, steeling himself before stepping into the vibrant chaos. Felix, ever the beacon of warmth, was the first to greet him. His smile was a radiant crescent, eyes sparkling with the playful twinkle of a galaxy etched upon his cheeks and nose. Felix enveloped Jeongin in a tight, enthusiastic hug, and Jeongin could almost gauge the number of drinks Felix had indulged in by the exuberance of the embrace. As he disentangled himself from the fervent welcome, he was met with a slew of half-hidden concern and reassuring smiles that nearly suffocated him with their well-meaning pity.

He made his way to the kitchen, where the counter was a tableau of gifts—boxes and bags for Felix and Han piled high in cheerful disarray. Jeongin added his own contribution to the heap and then sought refuge in the cool solace of the fridge, pulling out a bottle of water to soothe his parched throat. But then, as if fate itself had conspired to make this night even more unbearable, you appeared in the kitchen doorway.

You had been laughing lightly, a melodic sound that seemed to dance on the air, but upon spotting Jeongin, you froze mid-step. The sight of you was like a flash of brilliance in an otherwise dim landscape. You looked as radiant as ever, with a glimmer of the light that had once illuminated your eyes returning to them—a light Jeongin had once lost himself in with reckless abandon. At that moment, the gravity of his own emotions hit him with a brutal clarity. Despite having ended the relationship, he realized with a heavy heart that he was still desperately, achingly in love with you. Even after nearly a year of separation, the feelings remain undiminished.

You slowly composed yourself, though your body remained taut with the remnants of surprise. The smile you gave him was both disarming and electrifying, sending a shiver through him. With a polite bow, you greeted him, your voice soft and warm as you said, “I’m really glad to see you again, Jeongin.” The way you spoke his name made his knees feel weak, the sheer depth of his longing crystallizing in that single, familiar sound. He had not fully grasped how much he had yearned to hear his name on your lips again until that very moment.

Unable to find words, Jeongin merely bowed in return, his smile shy and tremulous. He watched you turn and leave the kitchen with a hurried pace, your earlier purpose forgotten. The realization dawned on him that he might need more than just water to navigate the emotional maelstrom of the evening.

Chan's party was a sanctuary of familiarity, a gathering of a close-knit circle of friends who had weathered years together. The night had unfolded in a haze of laughter and lively banter, and now, as Jeongin found himself pleasantly intoxicated from the endless rounds of drinking games, he couldn't help but revel in the camaraderie that had once again enveloped the room. It felt undeniably comforting to have everyone gathered under one roof again, especially you.

The past year had cast a shadow over the group's dynamic, your absence an unspoken void that lingered between them, palpable despite the silence. Yet now, with your return, the room seemed to breathe with a renewed vitality. It was as though the very air had shifted, carrying with it a sense of ease that had been sorely missed. Jeongin observed you from a distance, his gaze drawn to you as you reengaged with the group. He noted with quiet awe how you moved through conversations with an effortless grace, the same grace that had once been your hallmark.

It was apparent that you had emerged from the clutches of your grief, a revelation that stirred a profound admiration within Jeongin. The way you laughed, genuinely and freely, was a testament to your resilience. Though you had left without a word, seeking solace far away, you had returned with a newfound lightness. The laughter that now danced from your lips was a melody Jeongin had missed, a balm for the aching absence that had haunted him throughout the past year.

Jeongin watched with a bittersweet smile as you engaged with everyone—how your eyes crinkled at the corners when joy sparked within you, how they would occasionally meet his gaze with a fleeting, shy acknowledgment before darting away, leaving behind a gentle blush. Each moment was a delicate brush stroke on the canvas of your reunion, painting a picture of someone who had found a way to heal and reconnect.

The sight of you dancing playfully with Han to a song you both claimed had been crafted just for you was particularly poignant. Your movements were a symphony of carefree delight, a stark contrast to the somber image Jeongin had harbored of you. In these shared, joyful moments, as you reintegrated into the tapestry of old friendships, Jeongin felt his heart tugged with an intensity that defied explanation.

Though the effects of alcohol swirled around him, amplifying emotions and blurring the edges of reality, Jeongin knew that the depth of his feelings for you transcended any inebriation. The love he harbored was as real and potent as ever, a force that no amount of alcohol could replicate or diminish. He was falling for you once more, each glance and shared laugh reaffirming the connection that had never truly faded, only waiting for the right moment to reawaken.

Despite the undeniable truth of his lingering affection for you, Jeongin remained uncertain of how to navigate these turbulent emotions. For now, he chose to keep his feelings veiled in silence, retreating into the solitude of his thoughts. The haze of confusion was abruptly dispelled by the firm, reassuring weight of Minho’s hand settling on his shoulder, grounding him in the present moment.

Minho, his eyes glazed with the soft blur of alcohol—though not nearly as intoxicated as Felix and Han—clapped his hands together, a signal for attention. His voice, amplified by cupped hands, cut through the ambient noise of music and conversation. "Guys! Guys!" he bellowed, drawing the attention of the increasingly inebriated crowd. The room fell into a collective hush, eager eyes fixed on Minho as he continued with a grin that spoke of mischief. "As per Yongbok’s request, we’re about to kick off a game of UNO! But there’s a twist: every time someone lands a Plus Four card, we all take a shot. And the loser—well, they get a revolting concoction of mixed alcohols and juices!"

The announcement ignited a burst of enthusiastic cheers, the crowd’s energy crackling with anticipation. Laughter and playful shoves accompanied the clumsy shuffle to the circular coffee table at the heart of the living room. Jeongin, with a flicker of hope in his heart, watched as you navigated the sea of friends. His wish to have you beside him was met with a hint of disappointment as you chose a seat directly across from him, nestled between Hyunjin and Seungmin.

The seating arrangement became a familiar circle of camaraderie and chaos: You directly across from Jeongin, Seungmin to your right, Chan to Seungmin’s right, Felix to Chan’s right, Jeongin to Felix’s right, Minho to Jeongin’s right, Han to Minho’s right, Changbin to Hyunjin’s right, and Hyunjin bridging the gap between you and Changbin. The table soon overflowed with the raucous sound of drunken laughter, mischievous plotting, and playful bickering.

Jeongin found himself in an unexpected streak of triumph, his luck seemingly endless as he conquered each round of UNO. The others began to whisper suspicions of cheating, their playful accusations accompanied by slurred speech and tipsy frustration. Chan’s voice, tinged with exasperation, rose above the din. "How is it even possible that you’ve been winning non-stop?" he demanded, his words distorted by a chorus of drinks and Seungmin’s relentless strategy.

Jeongin rolled his eyes, a gesture that had become almost automatic in the face of such claims. Han, who had just suffered the fate of the foul concoction, gagged dramatically as he placed the empty cup down with a groan. The room’s attention shifted to you as you slammed your palm onto the table, a spark of mischief lighting up your eyes. The gesture was a beacon of playful challenge, and it made Jeongin’s heart flutter unexpectedly.

"Stand up then, if you’re not cheating," you teased, your voice laced with both suspicion and amusement. The room buzzed with agreement, and Jeongin could not suppress the smile that tugged at his lips as he rose to his feet. He had sobered somewhat since the game began, the action feeling less consequential for him than for the others.

Throughout the night, the games were interspersed with moments of easy banter between you and Jeongin, a reminder of the lighthearted days before the heartache had set in. Each playful remark, every shared glance, and the way you laughed at his jokes tugged at him, rekindling memories of warmth and affection. The realization of how deeply he missed the feeling of being in love with you clenched his heart painfully.

As Jeongin turned around slowly to prove his hands were empty, he couldn’t resist a smirk. "You didn’t empty out your pockets," you persisted, your stubbornness both charming and exasperating.

He met your gaze with a playful smirk of his own, the words slipping out before he could fully process their impact. "Come on, baby, don’t be like that," he said, his tone teasing.

The room fell silent in stunned unison, the playful atmosphere abruptly shifting to one of surprise and second-hand embarrassment. The weight of Jeongin’s unintended endearment hung in the air, leaving everyone, including him, to grapple with the sudden shift in the night’s delicate balance.

Jeongin’s heart sank as he watched the color drain from your face, a pallor of shock and disbelief that spoke volumes in the charged silence that followed. The name he had unintentionally let slip—a relic of a time when you were together—seemed to strike a chord deep within you. For a fleeting moment, your eyes revealed a heartache that cut through the pretense of composure you so desperately tried to maintain. The expression of hurt was almost palpable, like a silent scream against the fabric of the night.

You managed to reassemble yourself with a stubborn facade of mischief, your smile a delicate mask that barely concealed the storm within. Your words, though laced with playful banter, seemed to cut through the tension with a sharp edge. "I just think it's unnatural how many times you’ve won," you remarked with a smirk that didn’t quite reach your eyes.

Jeongin’s slip-up hung in the air, a tangible weight that seemed to sour the atmosphere of the gathering. Despite your attempt to downplay the incident with a light-hearted quip, the sting of the old nickname echoed like a ghost of past intimacy, making the room feel suddenly foreign and strained. The previously buoyant mood had shifted, leaving behind an undercurrent of unease that neither the laughter nor the playful jabs could dispel.

Jeongin could feel the churning turmoil within him, his heart pounding relentlessly in his chest. The game continued around him, but he found himself withdrawing, purposefully avoiding your gaze. Each stolen glance, each forced smile, was a reminder of the painful reminder of how things had changed. The night, which had started with such promise, now felt heavy and laden with unresolved emotions.

As the hour grew late and the laughter waned, the group, sensing the shift in energy, collectively decided it was time to call it a night. The revelry that had marked the evening dissolved into a subdued murmur as everyone prepared to leave. For Jeongin, the end of the night came as a relief, though it was tinged with a sense of lingering regret and an unspoken wish for things to be different.

As Jeongin made his way through the dimly lit apartment, exchanging farewells with the departing guests, he caught a fleeting glimpse of you darting out of the building. His heart, already heavy with a tumultuous mix of emotions, quickened its pace as he instinctively sought to follow. With an urgency driven by both concern and an aching need to make things right, Jeongin scrambled to retrieve his jacket and pull on his shoes, the night air already beginning to bite at his skin as he hurried after you.

He managed to intercept you just as you stepped out onto the cold street. Your name slipped from his lips before he could catch it, a desperate utterance that hung in the frosty air between you. You paused, your breath visible in the night’s chill, and both of you stood there for a moment, hearts racing in unison. Jeongin's breath came in ragged bursts as he caught up with you, the weight of his impulsive actions settling heavily on his shoulders.

“Let me walk you home,” Jeongin implored, his voice trembling slightly with a mixture of anxiety and hope. The words, simple yet laden with his longing, seemed to hang in the air, as though the night itself held its breath in anticipation of your response. Your eyes softened, reflecting a tempest of emotions as they met his, and your lips parted slightly as if struggling to find the right words.

Instead of speaking, you turned and began walking forward, your steps deliberate yet hesitant. Jeongin, interpreting your silence as tacit consent, fell into step beside you. The street stretched out before you, unfamiliar and shadowed, and the air between you was charged with unspoken sentiments and lingering regrets. Walking side by side felt oddly reminiscent of days gone by, a bittersweet echo of times shared with friends, now tinged with the ache of what had been lost.

In the week since Jeongin learned of your return, he had been trapped in a cycle of conflicting emotions. The pangs of missing you, of realizing the depth of his feelings that still burned despite everything, battled with the frustration of your unexplained departure. Each time anger threatened to overwhelm him, guilt swiftly followed, a reminder of the suffering you must have endured. His internal struggle was a storm of longing and resentment, a turbulent sea he had yet to navigate.

As he stole glances at your profile in the dim streetlight, the familiar contours of your face brought an unexpected rush of grief. Memories of your younger sister, Nari, flooded his mind—her laughter, a joyful sound that once filled the air, her enthusiastic embraces that had always greeted him with warmth. Your eyes, once so bright with shared mirth, now seemed dimmed by her absence.

The realization that Nari would never again tackle him in playful greeting, that her laughter would never again ring out, was a heavy burden. It pressed down on Jeongin’s heart, a reminder of the irreplaceable void left behind. The twinkle that once danced in your eyes when you laughed at Nari's jokes was now a distant memory, a reminder of how deeply her loss had affected both of you. As you walked together through the unfamiliar streets, the weight of these lost joys seemed to bear down on Jeongin, making each step feel heavier than the last.

Engulfed in the whirlpool of his own somber reflections, Jeongin barely noticed when you came to a halt before an old, weathered apartment building. Absorbed in his tumultuous thoughts, he continued forward for a few steps, his mind adrift in a sea of regret and longing. It was only when the melodic sound of your giggle reached his ears, a playful echo that cut through the fog of his melancholy, that he realized he was walking alone. With a start, he turned, his face flushing with a sheepish smile as he moved to stand before you.

You were standing there, your knuckles clenched tightly around the strap of your bag, a telltale sign of the anxiety simmering beneath the surface. Your lips were caught between your teeth, a nervous habit that Jeongin had come to know all too well. The sight of your distress mirrored his own internal turmoil, causing his foot to tap restlessly on the pavement as he waited for you to speak. The tension in the air was palpable, a heavy shroud that seemed to settle between you.

After a few moments of strained silence, you released a shaky breath and offered him a small, timid smile. "It was good to see you again," you said softly, the words tinged with a trace of the anxiety that laced your voice. It was the same sentiment you had voiced earlier in the night, when you had first reappeared in Chan's kitchen after an eight-month absence.

This time, Jeongin’s response came with a gravity that reflected the depth of your absence. "I’m glad you came back," he said, his voice carrying the weight of the months spent apart, yet softened by a flicker of genuine contentment.

Your smile, though hesitant, shone brightly against the backdrop of the night. It was a beacon that pierced through the haze of Jeongin’s heartache, and despite the unresolved tension, he couldn’t help but return it with a warm, albeit uncertain, smile of his own. The air between you crackled with the weight of unspoken words and unresolved feelings, a delicate balance between the urge to bridge the gap and the inability to articulate the depth of your emotions.

As you cast an awkward glance back at the entrance of your apartment, Jeongin understood that you were grappling with the same indecision that plagued him. "This is me," you said, your voice betraying a trace of nervousness as you cleared your throat. "My place is a bit of a distance from our—sorry, your apartment. If you’re comfortable, I can offer you my couch for the night."

Despite the initial reluctance that had gripped him, the prospect of spending more time with you, however fleeting, was too inviting to resist. Jeongin found himself smiling softly, a gesture of acceptance that was both hesitant and heartfelt. Your genuine, wide smile in response seemed to illuminate the night, lifting the veil of uncertainty that had surrounded him. With a renewed sense of hope and a lingering trace of longing, Jeongin followed you inside, each step towards your apartment a tentative step towards mending the fragile thread that connected your hearts.

✦•······················•✦•······················•✦

Your new apartment, though modest in size, exudes a quiet charm, nestled in a serene part of town far removed from the familiar streets you once traversed with Jeongin. The moment he crosses the threshold, he is enveloped by a dissonance of emotions—a strange fusion of comfort and estrangement. The space is distinctly different from the apartment you once shared, yet your presence lingers in every corner, making Jeongin feel both intimately connected and like an outsider peering into a world that has shifted just out of reach.

The living room, modestly furnished, reflects a minimalist elegance. A soft, neutral-colored couch rests against the wall, draped with a knitted throw blanket that adds a touch of warmth. This room is a far cry from the eclectic mix of your past home—a space once filled with a vibrant blend of your belongings and his—but it still bears the subtle imprint of your personality. A small shelf brims with books, many titles familiar from your old collection, but new ones have also appeared, whispering of the changes and growth you’ve experienced in your absence. The windowsill cradles a few houseplants, their greenery a delicate contrast to the sprawling flora that once filled your old living space. They are smaller, more contained, reflecting a more subdued chapter of your life.

Jeongin’s gaze drifts to the walls, bare and unadorned, stark in their emptiness. Gone are the framed photos and art prints that once animated every corner of your shared apartment. The absence of pictures—particularly those of the two of you—leaves an unexpected sting, a painful reminder of what has been left behind. Instead, there is a single framed photograph of your younger sister on a side table by the window, surrounded by a cluster of candles. It stands as a quiet tribute, a poignant memorial that tugs at Jeongin’s heartstrings, reminding him of the grief that ultimately drove a wedge between you both.

The apartment is imbued with a subdued quietness, a stark contrast to the lively energy of your former home, where laughter and soft music once intertwined to create a vibrant ambiance. Here, the atmosphere is more solitary, introspective, as if the space has been intentionally crafted as a sanctuary for healing—a refuge from the chaos of the past. A small kitchen table, cluttered with a few empty glasses and a half-read book, suggests many solitary evenings spent with your thoughts, lost in the pages or gazing into the distance, ensnared by memories.

The kitchen itself bears no evidence of the late-night culinary adventures you used to drag him into, those joyous moments of laughter and flour-covered countertops. As Jeongin takes in the scene, he is overwhelmed by a complex weave of emotions—nostalgia for what was, sorrow for what has been lost, and a poignant ache for the version of you who now stands before him. The differences are striking, revealing a careful, deliberate solitude you’ve constructed around yourself in this new space. It feels as though you’ve created a bubble of tranquility, a place where you can breathe freely from the weight of the past, and he wonders if there is still a place for him within it or if you have moved on to a new chapter without him.

The emptiness of your new apartment weighs heavily on him. It’s not merely the physical void but the absence of the vibrant, unfiltered you that he used to know. Standing there, a guest in what might have been his world, Jeongin is acutely aware of how much has changed and how deeply he still yearns for the comfort of what once was, now replaced by the stark reality of what is.

As Jeongin steps into your new apartment, he takes in its subtle details with a blend of curiosity and nostalgia. You move about with a quiet, almost anxious energy, as if the mere act of tidying is a way to manage the fluttering tension between you. Your hands, unsure of their purpose, engage in small, inconsequential tasks: smoothing the corner of the knitted blanket draped over the couch, adjusting the book that rests on the kitchen table, and shifting a houseplant slightly to the left. It is evident that you are aware of his gaze, but you strive to give him space to absorb his surroundings.

The silence stretches until you break it, your voice soft yet resolute. "It's not much, but... it's mine." There’s a delicate balance in your tone, a mixture of pride laced with vulnerability. You glance at him, seeking to gauge his reaction, your eyes reflecting a world of untold emotions. As you move towards the small kitchen area, you open a cabinet and retrieve two glasses. "Do you want some water? Tea? I think I have some wine if you'd prefer that." Your words tumble out in a gentle stream, an attempt to fill the quiet with something tangible, yet they carry an earnestness that reveals your underlying uncertainty about where you both stand.

Jeongin watches you, his gaze softening as he observes the careful grace of your movements—each gesture imbued with a quiet protectiveness, as if you're safeguarding something tender within yourself. The silence deepens for a moment before he responds, his voice subdued and tentative. "Water's fine." It is clear that he is navigating this new terrain with caution, his tone reflective of the delicate balance between past familiarity and present distance. You nod and move towards the fridge, your back turned to him as you pour the water.

Jeongin’s eyes wander around the apartment once more, deliberately avoiding the back of your head as you focus on the task at hand. When you hand him the glass, your fingers brush against his, sending a shiver through him. It’s a sensation he’s not quite accustomed to after all this time apart. He accepts the glass with a quiet "thanks," savoring the cool water as it soothes his dry throat.

"Let’s sit," you suggest, motioning towards the couch. There is a steadiness in your voice that carries a quiet confidence, reminiscent of the times you had managed to ground him amidst the chaos. Jeongin follows you and settles beside you on the couch. The cushions feel foreign and different from those he remembers, amplifying his sense of longing for the comfort of the home you once shared.

For a brief moment, Jeongin is at a loss for words, overwhelmed by the tangled emotions in his chest. He is unsure where to begin, but you gently ease the tension. "How’s work been?" you inquire, your voice a soothing balm to the heaviness in the room. "Are you still at the same clinic?"

Grateful for the opening, Jeongin nods. "Yeah, still there. We started a new program recently... working with kids who've been through some really tough stuff. It’s been challenging, but rewarding." He watches as your eyes soften, a sign of the empathy and kindness he’s always admired in you. The sight of your genuine smile, the one he’s missed so dearly, is like a balm on a wound that has long ached.

"That sounds so nice. You've always been so good with children." Your compliment is heartfelt, and Jeongin feels a pang of longing.

He responds with a light-hearted joke, "That’s more your area of expertise," referring to your work as a school counselor. You chuckle softly, taking a sip of water, and Jeongin senses there’s more you wish to share.

"And... what about everything else? How have you been holding up?" Your question is gentle but probing, and Jeongin’s grip tightens around his glass.

"It’s been... different," he admits. "The apartment feels empty without you there. Like something’s missing."

Jeongin hadn't intended for his words to emerge with such raw intensity, but they tumble out before he can rein them in. He watches as they land upon you, the way your gaze falls and a shadow of sorrow flits across your face. "I'm sorry," you murmur, the words almost lost in the quiet of the room. "For leaving like that. I didn’t know what else to do."

Your apology strikes a chord deep within him, a resonance of shared pain and regret. "I know," he replies softly, his voice carrying the weight of understanding. "I don’t really blame you. We both had to figure things out." The atmosphere between you shifts, the earlier tension giving way to something more tender—like an old wound beginning to mend.

Jeongin sits beside you on the couch, his nerves stretched taut, a wire humming with unspoken words. His hands are clenched in his lap, a desperate attempt to hold himself together as the silence stretches, thick and heavy. His gaze is drawn to you, to the way you hold your glass of water—fingers wrapped around it as if it were a lifeline, anchoring you to some semblance of normalcy.

He recognizes that look in your eyes—the one that signals you are about to reveal something profound, something that has been weighing on you. "When I left," you start, your voice so faint it nearly dissolves into the air. Jeongin’s breath catches in his throat. He had no clear expectations for the evening, but he can feel that whatever is coming will be laced with pain.

"I didn’t really have a plan," you continue, your voice trembling with the weight of your confession. "I just... needed to get away." He watches as your eyes drift to the water in your glass, your reflection shimmering and distorted. The impulse to reach out and offer comfort is almost overwhelming, but he remains still, his focus entirely on you.

"I ended up halfway across the country," you say, your voice gaining a faint thread of strength. "I reached out to Lily. You remember her, right? From college?" Jeongin nods, a wistful smile tugging at his lips despite the ache in his chest. He recalls Lily’s vivacious spirit, her constant care for you, and feels a pang of gratitude that she was there for you in a way he couldn't be.

"She didn’t ask questions; she just told me to come," you add. Jeongin’s heart clenches at the image of you in a strange, distant place, the weight of your grief looming like an oppressive storm. He loathes the thought of you feeling so alone and adrift, needing to travel so far for solace.

"She lives in this tiny coastal town," you continue, your voice lightening slightly as you recall the memory. "For a while, I thought maybe that was what I needed—being somewhere far away from everything." Jeongin can almost visualize it—a serene seaside town where the waves gently erase footprints, a place where time seems to stretch indefinitely, offering a balm for the wounded soul.

Yet, beneath the surface of your words, Jeongin senses an undercurrent of dissatisfaction. The coastal retreat, while soothing, evidently fell short of the healing you sought. His heart aches, burdened by the realization that he wasn’t able to provide the support you needed, even as he too was grappling with his own struggles. The distance between your shared past and the present feels vast, and he yearns for a way to bridge that gap, to be the anchor you needed, even though he was floundering himself.

You pause, and Jeongin watches as you swallow hard, the movement of your throat a testament to the weight of your words. "I eventually realized that it wasn't enough," you say, your voice trembling with the effort to hold back tears. "I needed more help. So, I checked myself into a grief recovery program..." The words falter, and Jeongin feels a tightening in his chest, the emotion reflected in your wavering tone. "A place where people go when they've lost someone and don't know how to keep living."

He stares at you, his vision blurring as he grapples with the magnitude of your suffering. He's known grief, but seeing it through your eyes—so raw, so utterly consuming—is a new experience for him. Guilt crashes over him like a relentless wave. He wasn't there for you. He couldn't help. He didn't even know how to begin.

Jeongin opens his mouth, an apology poised on his lips, but you continue, your voice cutting through the silence with a quiet determination. "There were days I wanted to leave, but I stayed. I wrote a lot. I planted a small garden there, just to feel like I was nurturing something again, you know? And slowly, I started to remember things without feeling like they were completely breaking me."

His hands tremble in his lap, the truth of your words stirring a deep regret within him. He should be happy that you found a way forward, relieved that you began to heal, but instead, he is overwhelmed by the ache of not being there for you—by the realization that he had abandoned you when you needed him most. His eyes search yours, desperate for some sign that you don’t harbor hatred towards him.

"I can't imagine what that must've been like," he finally manages, his voice thick with emotion. "I'm sorry... I'm sorry I ended things when you needed me. I didn’t know how to help you through it, and I—"

You shake your head, a wistful smile curving your lips. "I didn’t know how to let you help me, either. And I wasn’t ready to accept Nari’s death and move on yet. That’s why I left." Your words settle into the spaces between his ribs, a cold weight pressing heavily on his chest. He wants to explain, to tell you that he was lost too, that he struggled to keep his own head above water while watching you drown. But he stays silent, knowing that this moment belongs to you, just as much as it does to him.

"I needed to find a way to live with the grief," you say softly, "to not let it define every part of me. And maybe I needed to see if I could come back and face everything, including you."

Jeongin’s heart skips at that, a flicker of hope igniting within him. There is a softness in your eyes that he hasn't seen in so long, a hint of something that almost resembles hope. He takes a breath, feeling a slight loosening of the weight of his own regrets. "I'm glad you did," he murmurs, his voice barely above a whisper. "I missed you—missed this, even if it wasn’t always easy."

You nod, and he sees a myriad of emotions dance across your face—relief, uncertainty, and perhaps the faintest trace of affection. There is much to unpack, many layers to explore, but for now, this moment of quiet honesty, of shared pain and cautious hope, feels like a tentative step towards understanding.

Jeongin notices his hand is closer to yours than he had realized, and for a fleeting moment, he wonders what it would be like to reach out, to touch your skin once more. But he doesn’t. Not yet. For now, he is content to sit beside you, to listen, and to cherish the hope that this—whatever it is—might be the beginning of finding each other again.

꒰ 🏷️ ꒱ ミ Permanent taglist: @agi-ppangx @sunnyrisee @jisunglyricist @nxtt2-u @nebugalaxy @bokk-minnie @tajannah-price1 @lixies-favorite-cookie @madewithchildlabor (Click on the link to join! All you have to do is answer a few questions to help me stay organized!)

꒰ 🏷️ ꒱ ミ Post taglist: @stascence @xxdwaekkaxx @raspberrii @joyofbebbanburg @drewsandsebastianswife @minholover1 @vangoghsear0 @theodorenottgf @chanshyunjin @cafffeineconnoisseur @villainstayy @qwonyoung23 @fawnoverdawn @sofix-hc7 @softkisshyunjin @anushasstuff

🍉 FROM THE RIVER TO THE SEA, PALESTINE WILL BE FREE! DAILY CLICKS!

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mintsturniolo · 9 months ago

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i'm going out (m.s)

bf!matt sturniolo x f!reader

a/n: i know i've been mia. i've been going through it but i'm still working on requests and also working on a ton of drafts, so bear with me

summary: ari's going out for brunch with the girls and wants to show matt her outfit while he's on stream

Matt was leaning back in his chair reading the chat as he talked to his audience on his live. He was doing his best to keep up with the subs that he was getting, while he talked about a concert he had gone to a few days ago. “Yeah it’s crazy because I’ve looked up to them my whole life,” Matt was saying when his bedroom door opened.

Matt smiled when he saw his girlfriend Ari walk in wearing his hoodie and sweats. “Hey baby,” he said as he reached for her hand.

“Hey. Sorry. I forgot you were streaming,” she replied as she took Matt’s hand. “I”m about to go get ready.”

Matt shrugged as he looked up at his girlfriend. “Want to say hi to the chat?”

Ari leaned in where the audience could see her. “Hey guys. How’s it going?” she asked, earning a ton of comments asking when she was going to start being in lives more often.

Ari took a few minutes to interact with the chat before she turned her attention back to Matt, who hadn’t stopped looking at her the whole time she’d been standing there. “Anyways, I can’t decide between the white or the green dress Matty,” she sighed. “I love both of them so much.”

“You wanted to wear the white bow with today right?” Matt asked, his attention fully on Ari.

Ari nodded as she glanced at the chat. The fans were going crazy over this interaction. “The bow goes with both dresses. Try one on and show it to me, my love,” Matt replied gently.

Ari nodded and went to the side of the closet that Matt had cleared out for her. After getting the outfit she was going to to try on she made her way to the bathroom to change. Matt turned back to his computer and smiled at the camera. “Alright chat, I need to pick a game. I’m thinking Hogwarts Legacy,” he said, acting like the chat wasn’t asking for more information about his relationship with Ari.

Almost thirty minutes passed before Matt’s bedroom door was opened again. Matt looked up and a look of awe crossed over his face as he took in the sight in front of him. “Baby…” he muttered.

“I put the dress on and liked it so I just completed the look,” Ari said happily. “Look the new curler worked perfectly.”

“Come here,” Matt said gently as he put a hand on Ari’s waist.

Ari took a seat on Matt’s lap and planted a kiss on his cheek. “You’re stunning,” Matt whispered before turning to the camera.

“Thanks guys. Ya’ll are so sweet,” Ari said as Matt finished up a quest that he’d been working on. “Matt have you seen my car keys?”

“They should be on the kitchen counter,” Matt replied. “Dammit. I hate these spiders.”

Ari rolled her eyes as she continued to give the chat some attention. “Lets see. Lexi wants know my makeup routine,” she said as he read the comment. “I’ll post a video on my channel soon about that so stay tuned.”

Ari chatted with the fans while Matt completed the quest he was doing for the next several minutes. She glanced at her phone and sighed. “I gotta go chat. I’m having brunch with some girls.”

Matt kept a hand on Ari’s leg to keep her from getting up. “Make sure you call me to let me know you made it there safe okay,” he insisted earning a nod from his girlfriend.

Matt kissed Ari gently on the lips. “Have a good time my love,” he said.

Ari smiled as she kissed him back. “You’re acting like I’m leaving forever. I’ll be back in a few hours.”

“I don’t care how long you’re gone. I’ll still miss you until you come back,” Matt replied as Ari stood up. “But for real. Have fun.”

Ari grabbed her bag that was at the end of Matt’s bed and waved at the camera. “Bye guys. Have a great day,” she said as Matt continued to stare up at her. “What?”

“I love you,” Matt said as Ari took his hand.

Ari smiled and ran a hand through Matt’s hair. “I love you more,” she replied. “Okay, I actually have to go. Have a good day my love.”

When Ari disappeared, Matt leaned forward in his seat and continued the game he was playing. “I’m so lucky, guys,” he sighed.

Taglist

@adirtylittleheart @sturniolo04 @yourenogoodforme @flouvela @mattyblover07 @sturnioloveniamh @slutforsturniolos

#matt sturniolo x reader #matt sturniolo #sturniolo fanfic #fluff #imagine #sturniolo x reader

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janicho88 · 4 months ago

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Know When To Let Go Part 1

Pairing- Dean, x Female!Reader.

Word count- 3,889

Warnings- A lot of ANGST, Dean is a bit of jerk, fighting,

Summary- You almost lost Dean to a heart attack, now after one phone call there is another threat from the past that could come between you two.

A/N-I know this isn't one of my ongoing series, but this has been in my drafts for years. The first 2 parts are a rewrite of the Route 66 episode. I'm trying to get back into writing, I promise. It's been so long since I've posted, I'm not even sure what to use for a taglist so I'm going off the last Forever tag list. If you would like to be removed let me know. Not Beta'd, all mistakes are mine

Sitting in the back of Baby, you think back on this last week, it was one of the worst of your life. During the last hunt Dean had been electrocuted which led to him having a heart attack. Doctors didn’t give him much time, you and Sam worked like crazy looking for some way to save him. Finally, Sam found a faith healer, which turned into another case on its own. Now, Dean was in the motel room saying goodbye to the chick he met on this job. Sam was kind enough to bring her back to talk to Dean. No, you weren’t jealous at all, but does he seriously have to meet a girl in every town you stop in?

Your parents had been hunters and would drop you off at Bobby’s, which is where you met Sam and Dean as kids. Dean was a year older, and had taken you under his wing. When you were twelve, your parents never made it back from a hunt. You lived with Bobby until you turned 18, then you started hunting with the Winchester instead of researching at Bobby’s. Sam was like a little brother to you, even if he shot up taller than all of you. Dean was your best friend and as you grew up, he was the man who stole your heart. You never saw him sharing those feelings so you kept them bottled up. This left you standing by and watching, the constant hookups and flirting breaking your heart a little more each time. Sam has known since you were kids there was something between you and Dean, and often pushes you to tell his brother. You could never bring yourself to do it, and in turn, lose Dean altogether.

You were there for Dean through everything, the rough hunts, Sam leaving for Stanford, fights with his dad, then John disappearing a few months ago which led to picking up Sam who then lost Jess. You couldn’t imagine what losing Dean last week would have done to you. When he was in the hospital, you came close to telling him how you felt when he was holding you next to him in the tiny hospital bed. The two of you had gotten fairly close over the last case, but once again someone else had caught his eye.

The three of you stop at a gas station when Dean gets a phone call and walks off. Sam is standing next to the car looking over a map to plan your route to Pennsylvania, where your next case is. Dean starts heading back to the car putting his phone away.

“I think I found a way we can bypass that construction just east of here. We might even make Pennsylvania faster than we thought,” Sam calls out.

Dean looks out over the car before turning to the two of you, “Problem is, we’re not going to Pennsylvania”

You and Sam look at each other before looking at Dean. “Where are we going then?” You ask.

“I got a call from an, uh, old friend. Her father was killed last night, thinks it might be our kind of thing.”

“What? Who’s the friend?” Sam wanted to know.

“Listen, trust me on this, she never woulda called, never, if she didn’t need us.”

There is a sinking feeling in your stomach, “who is the friend Dean?” He just ignores you and hops in the car.

As you were driving Sam again tries to get Dean to tell him who the old friend is. You are headed to Mississippi, which gives you a pretty good idea of who this friend is and you are livid.

Dean finally says the name you are dreading, Cassie. You had been traveling with Dean when he met her in Ohio, and they had gone out for a few weeks. You didn’t like her then and you really didn’t like her the night Dean came back to the hotel drunk and heartbroken because she ended things. She was a stuck up snob, she absolutely crushed Dean.

“She actually had the nerve to call you and ask for help?” you exclaim. Unfeaking believable, and apparently Dean is still pretending he can’t hear you.

“You never mentioned her before,” Sam is telling Dean.

“Really?” When Sam just looks at him Dean continues, “ Yeah, we went out.”

“Like more than one night? You actually dated somebody?”

“What are you not getting here? Dad, Y/N, and I were working a job in Ohio, she was in college.

We went out for a couple of weeks.”

“What happened between you guys?”

“Drop it Sam,” you really didn’t want to dig up this part of the past.

“Was there more going on?” The dense man kept pushing.

“Yeah, they went out. She was a bitch, they broke up, it broke his heart, and I had to fix her mess.”

“Knock it off, Y/N. That was years ago, and in the past.” Now he acknowledges you, just to defend her. He couldn’t still have feelings for her could he?

“Okay. So I’m sorry about her dad, but why would she call you if he was in a car accident? Not really our kinda thing?” It took Sam a minute, “wait, does she know what we do?” Dean didn’t answer staring ahead. “Dude, you didn’t?”

“He actually told the bitch what we really do, Sam.”

“Watch it Y/N.” Dean gives you a glare through the rearview mirror, and you give one right back.

Sam looks at you curiously. You aren’t usually one for hate unless they deserve it.

“Wait. You told her. You told her our secret! Our big family number one rule, we do what we do and we shut up about it. I never said a word about it to Jess for over a year and a half, instead I lied to her. But you tell some girl you only knew a few weeks, everything.” Dean still didn’t answer, just looking straight ahead. “Dean!”

“Yeah, looks like.” He just pushed down on the accelerator ignoring Sam’s bitchface.

“Witch, didn’t deserve to know anything,” you muttered under your breath. Judging by the glare Dean sends back he still heard you.

There isn’t much talking between any of you after that. You arrive in town and Dean parks near the newspaper building and quickly exits the car. Guess she told him where she works.

Walking inside you see three people arguing and unfortunately recognize one of them as Cassie. One of the men leaves and the other walks away when Cassie turns to face the three of you, giving Dean a grin and calling out his name. Dean gives her a small grin. Why is she so happy? She's the one who dumped him. Oh she just made you fuming mad.

“Hey Cassie.” She doesn’t say anything and they just stare at each other before Dean continues. “This is my brother Sam, and you remember Y/N.”

You would be pretty shocked if she didn’t remember you. After calming Dean down and he finally passed out that night, you went to her apartment and bitched her out. Which is probably why she smiled at Sam and ignored you.

“I’m sorry bout your dad,” Dean started.

“Yeah, Me too,” she answers.

Well, she does talk. This staring is driving you nuts. “You called Cassie, apparently you think you need our help.”

“I didn’t know you would still be around.” She quickly glances at you before going back to Dean, “Maybe we should go somewhere else.”

“Well, I don’t desert the people I care about.”

Dean glares at you as everyone leaves the building and walks back to the Impala to follow her to her mother’s house. When she gets in her car Dean grabs your arm stopping you. “That’s enough out of you! You don’t have to be such a bitch, you know.”

He climbs behind the wheel of Baby, and you roll your eyes before sliding in yourself.

Cassie brings out tea when you arrive, she settles down close to Dean. She tells you all how her mother has been in bad shape, so she was staying at the house with her. She has been very nervous lately and worried about her husband. When Dean asks why, Cassie mentions her dad had been scared and seeing things, like an awful-looking black truck following him. Sam interrupts to ask who the driver was, but apparently her dad never mentioned one. The truck was always appearing and disappearing. Her father’s car had been dented in the accident, and it looks like something big.

You’ve been watching Dean, and have to hide a laugh when he is giving his tea a weird look before quickly putting it aside on the table. You turn your attention back to what Cassie is saying. The sooner you solve this, the sooner you can leave this town.

“Dad sold cars, and was always driving a new one. There wasn’t a scratch on it before the accident. It was raining hard that night, and mud was everywhere. There was one distinct set of muddy tracks which led from dad’s car to the edge where he went over.” She paused trying to gain control of her emotions, “only his tracks.”

“The first accident, he was a friend of your father’s?” Dean asks her.

“Yes, Clayton Soames, they were best friends, and owned the dealership together. Same thing, a dent, no tracks, and the cops said he lost control too.”

Dean wants to know if she has any thoughts on why the two men would have been targets, but she doesn’t. Then Sam asks her if she thought it was the vanishing truck her dad saw.

“When you say it out loud like that, listen, I’m a bit skeptical about this… ghost stuff… or whatever it is you guys do.”

“Skeptical? If I remember right you said I was nuts.”

“If you don’t believe it, why did you bother calling Cassie?” You cut in after Dean. Getting another glare from the man.

“That was back then, I just can’t explain what happened so I called you.” Her and Dean are back to staring at each other, I just might be sick you think.

“Excuse us a second,” Dean gets up and grabs your arm, pulling you out of your seat across from him and to the corner of the room. “If you aren’t actually going to be any help you can leave, and go wait in the car.”

Before you can reply, Cassie’s mom walks in and she gets up to talk to her. Dean walks away leaving you standing alone. She introduces Dean as a friend from college and Sam as his sibling, you get nothing. Sam sees you hurry outside trying to hide the tears in your eyes, he knows Dean’s behavior has to be getting to you. Excusing himself he follows you outside.

“Sam, you are always telling me I need to be honest with Dean about my feelings. This is why I can’t, he’ll choose some chick who hurt him over me, the person who has been there for him for over 15 years.” Dean comes out and you turn away from him quickly.

“I don’t understand what your problem is, but that was unnecessary,” he snaps at you.

The three of you head back to the motel shortly. It is a quiet ride back, you and Dean aren’t speaking to one another, and Sam doesn’t want to get either of you going. Usually, you share a bed with Dean, but that isn’t going to happen tonight. At least the room has a couch, as bad as it looks it is still better than the floor.

Early the next morning Dean’s phone rang waking you up from the little sleep you had gotten. It’s Cassie, apparently someone else died during the night, same way as the others. Dean is hurrying both you and Sam to get ready and out the door. When you arrive at the scene Cassie is talking to one of the men from yesterday. Dean is quick to walk over, you and Sam following behind.

“Did the cops check for additional denting on Jimmy’s car, see if it was pushed?”

The man looked at Dean then back to Cassie, “Who is this?”

“Dean and Sam Winchester, and… his friend Y/N, they’re family friends. This is Mayor Harold Todd.”

“There is one set of tracks, just one. Nothing points to foul play here.”

“Mayor, the police, officials, everyone is taking their cues from you, if you are indifferent about this then..”

“Indifferent!” He interrupts her

“Mayor, would you close the road if the victims were white?”

“Are you suggesting I’m racist Cassie, I’m the last person you should talk to like that.”

When Cassie tries to find out why, he just tells her to ask her mother and walks away.

From there Dean drives you all back to the motel room to change into fed clothes. While in the bathroom getting ready you can hear the boys talking, well Sam at least trying to get information from Dean about Cassie

“I’ll say this for her, she’s fearless,” Sam starts, Dean just humming. “I bet she kicked your ass a few times. It’s interesting you guys never look at each other at the same time. You look when she isn’t and she checks you out when you aren’t. It’s an interesting observation you know, in an observationally interesting way.”

Just shut-up about her Sam, you think to yourself. “You think we might have more pressing issues here?” Dean finally responds.

“Hey, if I’m hitting a nerve.”

“Y/N, hurry up we’re leaving, let’s go,” Dean yells for you.

You leave for the docks to talk to a few guys who are friends of the victims, Cassie has mentioned they would be there having lunch.

“Excuse me. Are you Ron Stubbins?” You asked, reaching the two men first. When he nods, Dean takes over talking.

“You were friends with Jimmy Anderson?”

“Who wants to know?” Ron counters.

“We’re with Mr. Anderson’s insurance company, got to dot the I’s and cross some T’s.”

“We were just wondering if the deceased had mentioned any unusual experiences recently?” Sam cut in.

The men are looking at the three of you funny so you step in, “Well visions, hallucinations. It’s part of a medical examination kind of thing. This is all standard.”

“It takes three of you to come down? What company did you say you were with?”

“I’m new, these guys are training me.”

“All National Mutual,” Dean cut in. “Can you tell me, did he ever mention seeing a truck? A big black truck?”

“What the hell are you all talking about? You even speaking English?” Ron asks.

“Son this truck, is it a big scary monster looking thing?” The man with Ron cut in.

“Yeah, actually, I think so.” Dean answers him. The man just nods. “What about it?”

“I’ve heard of a truck like that,” he finally answers..

That gets Sam’s attention, “You have, Where?”

“Not a where, but a when, son. Back in the ‘60’s there was a string of deaths. Black men. Story goes they disappeared in a big, nasty, black truck.”

“Did they ever catch the guy?” Dean wants to know.

“No, never found him. Hell, not sure if they even really looked. See there was a time, this town wasn’t too friendly to all its citizens.”

“Thank you for your time,” you tell the men as the three of you turn to walk back to the Impala.

The guys start talking while you follow behind.

“This truck,” Dean starts.

“Keeps coming up doesn't it?” Sam fills in.

“You know, I was thinking. You heard of the flying dutchman?” Dean asks his brother.

“That ghost ship? It was infused with the captain’s evil spirit, and basically part of him.”

“What if this is like the same thing here? You know, a phantom truck, an extension of some bastard’s ghost, that is re-enacting past crimes?”

“Could be, the victims have all been black men.”

“It’s more than that, everything seems to be connected to Cassie and her family.”

“It’s all, all about Cassie,” you mutter under your breath, but apparently not low enough again.

“What is your deal?” Dean turns to you, “you have been a nag ever since I told you we were coming here! All these stupid little comments. What the hell is your problem?”

“You really have to ask me what my problem is? You are so blinded by what you once felt for her. I was there with you Dean, when things ended, I know how much she hurt you. I absolutely hate her, and so did you before yesterday.”

“She hurt me, me, not you. I never asked for you to help me, it’s not up to you how I handle this. My life doesn’t concern you, stay out of it! Grow up Y/N, I’m sick and tired of your attitude.”

“Maybe it’s just time I did get out of it. If I’m gone then I can’t interfere in your life anymore.”

“Maybe that would be a great idea. I’m over the way you’ve been lately.”

“Fine, after this case, I’m out of your hair.”

“Best thing you’ve said all case.”

“Alright guys, let’s just calm down,” Sam tries to intervene before it blows up, turning to Dean, “you go work that angle with Cassie and her family, talk to her”

“Yeah, I will.” Dean throws a glare your way when he answers.

“You might also wanna mention that other thing.”

“What other thing?”

“The unfinished business between you two. Dean, what is going on between you?”

You can’t listen so you walk away to calm yourself down.

“Maybe, we were a bit more involved than I said before.” Sam just stares at him. “Okay so a lot more. I told her our secret, what’s out there and what we do. I shouldn’t have.”

“Come on man, everyone needs to open up to someone at some point.”

“No, I don’t. It was stupid of me to get that close. Just look how it ended.”

“Is that what’s wrong with Y/N? How bad this thing ended with you and Cassie?”

“I don’t know what the hell her problem is, but she needs to get over it fast.”

“Did you love her?”

“Y/N? She’s my best friend, dude I can’t.”

“I meant Cassie, but good to know your mind goes there first.”

“No, didn’t. I’m leaving.”

“You did love her, and you dumped her.” Sam watches Dean for a minute, “Wait, she dumped you?”

Dean walked over to the Impala’s door, “Just get in the car, get in the car.”

“What about Y/N?” Sam asks, getting in and looking around for you.

“She can walk back, maybe it will cool her down.”

You walked around the corner trying to calm yourself down and keep the tears at bay. When you are turning to go back you see the Impala speed by. They seriously left you here? Dean really did want you gone. Looking down, you are glad you didn’t grab the heeled shoes, at least this pair wasn't awful for walking.

You turn back around and start the thirty minute walk to the motel. This time you can’t stop the tears from falling. You have loved Dean for years, and been his best friend even longer. You want to be there for Dean. You were best friends, wasn’t that how it was supposed to be? If you are honest with yourself, you would know it was more than that, he was it for you. It was clear lately, you're not the one for him. Apparently you mean nothing to him. Years ago, when he was hurt by Cassie, he changed and didn’t let anyone, even you get as close as he used to. Maybe you should get your own room tonight, and start adjusting to being on your own. This case couldn’t wrap up fast enough for you to get out of this town.

You arrive back at the motel and the Impala is nowhere to be seen. Either they aren’t back yet, or Dean dropped Sam off and went to her. Heading to the room you plan to grab your things and get another room. Opening the door you think you are alone, until Sam walks out of the bathroom.

“Y/N, I’m glad you’re back, I’m sorry Dean left without you.”

“Don’t worry about it Sam, he obviously isn’t.

”

“What is going on with you two?”

“I think we have just had enough of each other.”

“It’s more than that.”

You let out a sigh before turning to sit on the bed. “Dean doesn’t think straight around Cassie, he never has. I don’t want to see him hurt again, because I know she will. He changed the minute he got her call.”

“When are you going to tell my brother you are in love with him?”

“I’m not Sam, I told you last night, he doesn’t share those feelings. Hell, he wants me gone, out of his life, and maybe that isn’t a bad idea.”

“What are you saying?”

“Our friendship is barely hanging on by a thread, I’m not going to cut that final one by telling him how I feel. He wouldn’t wait for this case to even be over before he made me leave. It’s clear I’ve overstayed my welcome with you two.”

“No, you haven’t. I think we all just need a break after this. You and Dean aren’t thinking straight right now.”

“I’m going to grab another room. I don’t think we need the three of us in one tonight.”

“You don’t need to do that.”

“It would be better if...”

“No,” Sam cuts you off, rubbing the back of his neck. “I’m sorry, but Dean is with Cassie, we need to figure out how this relates back to her family. I don’t know when he’ll even get back tonight, so don’t worry about another room. Everything will be back to normal in a day or two.”

“Sam, I’m leaving when this case is over. I need to be on my own for a bit. You will always be my not so little, little brother, but I can’t stay around him anymore.

Y/N, come on. It’s just a fight, you guys will be fine in a few days.

“I’m going to hit the shower.” You don’t want him to try and talk you out of this decision.

Walking into the bathroom you quickly turn on the water so Sam won’t hear you cry. After 18 years of friendship this is where you finally part ways from the man who has been there for you since he was 8 years old. Dean doesn’t want you around and you can’t keep watching him sleep with all those other women. The knife in your chest twists a little more every time. Getting out of the shower you get ready for bed, sleeping on the couch again because you couldn’t bring yourself to sleep in the bed that smells like Dean, even if it would be the last time. You know Sam is asleep and you don’t fight the tears that surface once again.

Part 2-coming soon

Thank you for reading!

Taglist-@winchest09 @flamencodiva @whatareyousearchingfordean @waywardbeanie

@deanwanddamons @emoryhemsworth @atc74 @sandlee44

@akshi8278 @fantasydevil2002 @writercole @440mxs-wife

@nervousfandom @lunarmoon8 @thoughts-and-funnies @katelyn–renee

@lyarr24 @pineapleavocado @siospins2 @deans-spinster-witch

@ariesbabe1993 @graciebear73 @stixnstripesworld @spnbaby-67

@treat-winchesterswith-kindness @charmed-asylum @winchestergirl2 @jawritter

@hobby27 @amyzombie1013 @sexyvixen7 @leigh70

@krazykelly @nancymcl @candy-coated-misery0731

@kmc1989 @supraveng @hearteyes-j2

#supernatural #dean x female!reader #dean x reader #dean winchester #dean angst

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trensu · 1 year ago

Text

Heyyy, long time no post, huh? I'm dropping another chunk of stasis in darkness for you guys! And I wanted to remind people that these posts are basically rough drafts. The final product will hopefully be more polished but in the meantime please enjoy!

After Steve convinced the old man he meant no harm, he’d been allowed into the home. The Lord of Night hadn’t been super specific about the purpose of his quest, only that Steve had to bring him to Wayne Munson. Steve discreetly looked around the home as he entered it. The old man was obviously unwell and had been for a while, given the state of the house. Steve had the creeping suspicion that the time limit the Lord of Night mentioned was linked to the man’s health.

“What are you doing?” Wayne Munson asked suspiciously once he had returned to the kitchen with Steve in tow. He had sat heavily in one of the old worn chairs at the table but Steve, instead of joining him, began to clear the table on impulse. Steve halted awkwardly.

“This ain’t your house, boy,” Wayne said with a scowl. “I can take care of myself.”

Steve did his very best not to look at the scattered mess in the kitchen or living room. It was not the mess of a dirty, careless person. It was the mess of someone tired and overwhelmed. It was the mess of someone in pain who was too proud to ask for help. Steve took in Wayne Munson’s watery eyes, wan skin, and the clothes that were plain things, tattered from use, but mostly stain-free. Steve quickly added all these details and came up with a plan of attack. He set the plate back down.

“Yes, sir,” Steve agreed easily. “I’m aware, but I serve the Lord of Night and he sent me to you specifically. In our god’s name, I must assist you in any way I can.”

Wayne’s expression wavered. Steve pushed again. He lowered his gaze in a slightly embarrassed manner, letting a note of uncertainty color his words.

“I don’t know what else to do until nightfall,” Steve said. He rubbed the back of his neck bashfully. “I don’t want him to think I’ve neglected you.”

“What happens at nightfall?” Wayne asked.

“It’s when the Lord of Night wants to see you,” Steve said. Wayne blinked.

“Me? He wants to see me?”

“Yeah! So, if you could please let me,” Steve said, putting on his most endearing smile, “I’d like to take care of you until then. You know, make sure you’re comfortable and get the place ready for a divine visit. If it’s not too much trouble, sir?”

“Uh, no, that should be fine. Is…is there anything I should do?” Wayne asked dazedly.

“Not really. All I know is he really wants to see you tonight. Oh, maybe you’d like to rest until then? A nap, so you’re not drowsy when he arrives.”

Wayne nods, still in shock at the news. He didn’t protest when Steve helped him out of the chair and let him lean his weight on him as they navigated to the bedroom. Wayne sat on the bed as Steve drew curtains closed over the room’s single window. The curtains were thick enough to dim the sun to a pale yellow glow.

“I didn’t know there was anyone else who followed him,” Wayne said as he lay himself down over the covers.

"He told me you’re the only one left, besides me,” Steve told him. “And I only discovered him a month ago by accident.”

“By accident?” Wayne asked with a wry grin.

“My friends found a holy text when we were researching other gods. It was the only one of his in the city's whole library. Then we had a hell of a time trying to find his last shrine. When I finally found it, it was falling apart. He’s been forgotten,” Steve said. At Wayne’s troubled expression, he hurriedly added, “But now that I’ve pledged myself to him, I’m going to make sure people know him again.”

Wayne did not appear convinced, but he finally settled to rest after Steve promised to wake him before sunset. Steve took the opportunity to clean. He hadn’t been lying to Wayne when he said he wasn’t sure what to do until nightfall. It didn’t help that Steve also liked to keep himself busy. Being idle made him itch.

The house was small. Aside from Wayne's bedroom, there was only a cramped kitchen and a modest living room. From the small window of the backdoor, Steve could see a short, worn path to an outhouse.

Given the size of the house, though there was a mess everywhere, it didn’t take Steve very long to clean it all. When it was done to his satisfaction, there were still a few hours left until sunset so he wandered outside. The porch railing was covered with broad green leaves from intertwining vines but Steve left that alone when he saw the small garden nearby. It was full of ripe vegetables that Steve assumed Wayne had been unable to pick himself given his condition.

By the time Steve had picked the vegetables, pulled the weeds, and watered the garden, the sun hung low in the horizon. He cleaned himself up the best he could in the kitchen sink and took one of the chairs from the table to the bedroom before waking Wayne.

He told Wayne what he accomplished during Wayne’s repose. While Wayne expressed his gratitude politely enough, it was still apparent to Steve that the old man was irritated at having needed the assistance at all. To keep Wayne from dwelling on that, as well as to satisfy his own curiosity, he coaxed Wayne into conversation.

“Can I ask, uh, how you–I mean, how did you know? How did you know the Lord of Night existed?"

Wayne laughed at Steve’s befuddled tone. The laugh turned into a coughing fit. Steve quickly fetched him a glass of water and put it on the bedside table after Wayne had a drink.

“My family’s a bunch of no-good criminals,” Wayne croaked. “Were. It’s only me now. But before, each generation of Munsons took it up. Like a family tradition.”

“Criminals?” asked Steve cautiously.

“Thieves and con men. Some ladies of the night, if you catch my meaning. They knew of our Lord of Night and passed the knowledge down,” Wayne sighed sadly. “The life of a criminal ain’t what you call stable. We lost bits and pieces of him with every generation. Like his name. No one’s known his name for a very long time. Is that why he wants to see me? Did I fail him?”

There was genuine distress in Wayne’s question so Steve hid his disappointment. He had hoped the Lord of Night’s last worshiper would at least have a clue about where to start the search for the lost name. He focused, instead, on reassuring the old man.

“I don’t know why he wants to see you, but he wasn’t angry when he sent me. He sounded excited.”

“I suppose that’s a good thing,” Wayne said uncertainly.

“Definitely,” Steve assured. Before Wayne could sink into his gloom again, Steve said, “I know you said you’ve lost some knowledge, but do you know if the Lord of Night has any prayers? I haven’t…I mean, I’ve tried to worship him but I don’t think I can do it right without a prayer. I’m kind of new at all this.”

“My ma used to say our Lord didn’t have patience for formalities,” Wayne said, brow furrowed. “They bored him so he only had a few official prayers. There was one where we’d thank him for any dreams he gave us. I think there was another one that asked for dreams to bring inspiration or something of that sort. I don’t really remember those–ma would be boxing my ears for that if she was still around. I remember the one for protection, since we used that one a lot. It goes:

Lord of Night, Guide us through all phases Of the moon; May the dark be free of All dangers, While your many stars burn.

Wayne’s voice cracked into a coughing fit near the end. Steve hurriedly offered him water again once Wayne had caught it again. Wayne took a few mouthfuls and repeated the prayer again so Steve could learn it. It took a few tries, but Wayne was patient and by the end of it, Steve had it memorized.

“Is that the only one?” Steve asked, hoping to learn more. Wayne grimaced.

“It’s the only one I really remember. The Lord of Night prefers stories. My ma would tell us the best bedtime stories. Said they were for our god as much as for me and my brother. I was never good at coming up with new stories, so I retell my favorites or tell our Lord about my days and give him a little offering.”

Steve wasn't much of a story teller. He supposed he could do as Wayne did until he met up with Robin and Dustin again. They constantly chatted about books they’d read. Steve couldn’t help but notice how, once again, his friends seemed a better fit for his god than he was; all Steve could give his god was his shield and sword. It was discouraging. He had to figure out a way to make up for it somehow.

“What kind of offerings?” Steve asked.

He wanted to give his god more; he wanted to give the Lord of Night something he’d actually like. It wasn’t lost on him that the Lord of Night took him under duress. Who else would’ve been able to complete this quest?

“When I was young, it was horse shoes,” Wayne chuckled at Steve’s confusion. “Thieves are supposed to give him a part of their loot but my ma and pa were horse thieves. They got horseshoes and would leave one for each horse they stole, tied with a braid made of the stolen horse’s mane.”

“You stole horses?” Steve said, unable to fight off a grin as he remembered the conversation he had with the Lord of Night about it.

“Me and my brother, before he passed,” Wayne said with a weak nod.

The sky had darkened by now. Steve pulled the stone out of his satchel. He carefully unwrapped it from the cloth and set it gently on the bedside table next to the glass of water. Wayne eyed it quizzically.

“It’s from his shrine,” Steve explained. Without any further fussing, Steve stood up and went to the door.

“Don’t leave,” the Lord of Night said.

Steve turned to see the god, hooded in his cloak of constellations, sitting in the chair Steve had vacated. The Lord of Night had not even glanced Steve's way when he spoke to him. The god’s attention rested solely on Wayne.

Steve hadn’t seen or spoken to the Lord of Night since he’d been accepted as his holy warrior. The god had needed to conserve his energy, he explained to Steve, so that Steve could complete his quest. The god’s cloak was as mesmerizing as the first time. However, this far from the shrine, the god did not look as solid as he had during the nights he spent with Steve.

“I wanted to give you two some privacy,” Steve said softly.

“I think Wayne would appreciate not being alone,” the Lord of Night said.

The old man stared at the god unblinkingly. Wayne’s expression was one of awe and fear, so Steve did as he was told and stayed in the room though he chose to lean on the wall furthest from the pair. He was still close to them in the tiny bedroom, but it provided the pretense of privacy.

“My Lord?” Wayne’s voice was barely audible.

“Hello. I’ve wanted to meet you for years,” the god said.

#trensu tells stories #steddie #stasis in darkness #stranger things #i'm gonna be honest #i absolutely have no idea how prayers are structured and i've got like zero experience in poetry #i do NOT like how the prayer turned out but #i did my best okay?#steve is so eager to use holy words #i had to give him SOMETHING #also #i'm starting to think i should've been like numbering these posts or something #but it's not like they're actual chapters or have a consistent length yknow?#so idk

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the-east-art · 11 months ago

Note

IDK if this counts as a Hagstone ask, but what is Hagstone? Could you give me the rundown? Or do you have a post where you explain the basics already?

Yes!!! It definitely counts!!! Let me tell you about my OCs and their story!

Hagstone is a story that I've been working on with @browniefox on and off for about seven years now! We've made at least one or two complete drafts of the first book, and I'm currently going through and rewriting the first book for (hopefully) the last time! and then it will be done! Hagstone is intended to be a duology, so just two books long.

enjoy this seven year old art when I was first developing the characters! The tag is Hagstone, but to find ALL the art I've ever done on it check the tag wtgp - it had the temporary title of 'Way to go Paul' for like... four or five years, referencing a Vine which I can't remember why we did that haha. There aren't any characters named Paul in it.

The story is about Kyle - a recent college dropout - who has to find new housing after an Event at his old place. He moves in with the eclectic Eldan - and over the course of the book gains new housemates (none of who are actually human) and discovers a dark danger lurking under the town.

(are by @browniefox) The story itself focuses on themes of struggling to let go of the past and face the future, dealing with grief, depression, and combatting loneliness.

One of the reasons I wrote this story was that I was really tired of stories that constantly have a 'normal' character who later realizes they're Secretly half witch or a fea or whatever so a big part of the story is the fact that Kyle is a very Human person with no magical abilities and how he interacts with the magical world.

The main characters are Kyle (of course) an anxious, depressed, and self conscious guy with a special interest in bugs and anger issues.

Eldan - the oldest living Fae who always seems to know more than everyone else and has been reportedly 'in a funk' (didn't leave his house) for many decades leading up to the story.

Marion - An acerbic vampire only a century or two old with trust issues and a secret soft side. He has been ostracized by the local vampire covens for reasons not yet known.

Ollie (Oleander) - Hailing from a family of monster hunters, Ollie is a sweet boy who can transform into a giant beast. His family are technically a line of Gargoyles but many centuries ago Eldan blessed them, hence the furriness of the transformation and the lack of being made of stone. However, something has happened recently causing him to go to Eldan on behalf of his family for help.

and Jonah! - Jonah is the ghost that haunts the house with few memories of his time alive whose death is connected to the darkness that lurks under the town.

(if you look you can see that Jonah and Ollie were recently renamed. Ollie was originally Leander but that read and wrote too similarly to the name 'Eldan', so we changed his name to Oleander and have him go by 'Ollie'. But THEN that was too close to the name Odon, so we changed Odons' name to Jonah. I'm much happier with these names and I think they are now distinct enough from one another, but it may be confusing if you're looking at old stuff)

That's the basic so please feel free to ask questions about the story, the characters, or if you want to meet some of the side characters in the story!

#wtgp #hagstone #the easts ocs #the easts asks #longpost

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quitealotofsodapop · 1 year ago

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Hi! It's me again :3, I don't know (and remember) if anyone has asked this before but I would like to know:

How did OG!MK feel when he found out that SW is his father in another dimension (I feel like Mei would say something like "See? I told you he was your dad" or something)

If it happens before S4, I feel like Mk would be a little jealous of his other self seeing that he doesn't have the problem of not knowing who his biological parents.

(The idea occurred to me when I remembered a tiktok that said MK used any type of editing app to get an idea of what his parents would look like 🥲)

omg if you have that tiktok I'd love a link XD

Think i did do a post like that ages ago, but only with an earlier draft of TMKATI and canon. Now I have like three more verses to torment MK with >:)

When the Canon verse and the other verses collide, the quickest thing the MKs would notice is their appearances.

OG!MK: "Whoa!! These me's are monkey demons!" TMKATI!MK: "And you guys are... human???" SlowBoiled!MK: "Yeah, why wouldn't him- I mean me be?" CenturyEgg!MK: "I don't know about you guys - but my parents are monkey demons. Then again my gūtā [dad's gender neutral older sibling] is human, I think???" JTTWEgg!MK: "My parents are monkey demons! The coolest monkey demons ever I may brag." TMKATI!MK: "Oh no way! My parents are monkey demons too! i have a bunch of adopted siblings though. Does your dad work with Bóbo[dad's older brother] Pigsy too?" CenturyEgg!MK: "No cus Uncle Pigsy and Tang lives in the city. We all live on Flower Fruit Mountain - but we visit as often as possible! Uncle Sandy ferries us across all the time." :3 OG!MK: "Wow!! You two live on the mountain!? What's it like?" JTTWEgg!MK, shrugging: "It's cool." CenturyEgg!MK: "Sometimes feel pressured by my role as Heir to the Stone Throne - but I wouldn't trade it for the world. I really don't like having to visit the Celestial Realm though. The nobles are kinda mean about my dad cus he caused a bunch of havoc a long time ago." The Other MKs: "wut" OG!MK: "Uh... Please explain who your parents are?" CenturyEgg!MK, confused by their confusion: "Sun Wukong the Monkey King, and Liu'er Mihou the Sage of Wind??? I thought you guys were too???" JTTWEgg!MK: "Yeah, mine are too. I thought you guys knew??" SlowBoiled!MK: "No- well kind- it's complicated! Ok!?" TMKATI!MK: "Not me. My parents are normal monkey demons, dude." OG!MK: "Oh my gods the Monkey King *is* our dad in another universe! Mei is never gonna let me forget this!" CenturyEgg!MK: "Well techinically he's my mom too so..." The Other MKs: "lol wat?" JTTWEgg!MK: "lol same."

The different MKs collaborate to tell stories about themselves (and get a solid PSA on Stone Eggs) while their respective Meis are snapping photos with eachother.

The different monkeys watch on nervously. The different monkey kings are sitting politely as their Macaques hiss at eachother from across the room.

OG!SWK: "So uh... did you tell him yet?" Other Monkeys: "Tell him what?" SlowBoiled!SWK: "About him being made by Nuwa, or the fact that we were forced to abandon him?" The CenturyEgg and TMKATI monkeys: "What." TMKATI!SWK, laughing nervously: "What? Oh gods no. I thought you guys meant telling him who we are!" The Other Monkeys: "Wut" CenturyEgg!SWK: "Your MK doesn't know that you guys are... Us?" TMKATI!LEM: "Nah, we've sorta been off-the-grid ever since genius here [thumb-points at his SWK] got me pregnant with our MK." The Stone Egg au SWKs: "Hah!" "Uno reverse card, plums!" Stone Egg LEMs: *all three have varying looks of horror, indignance, and bashfulness* SlowBoiled!LEM: "I said I was sorry!" OG!LEM: "Wait... what do you mean by sorry?" SlowBoiled!LEM, looking uncomfortable: "Cus of our uh... fight under the Mountain, and me not returning to feed him, I sorta caused Wukong's body to create a Stone Egg... and then I sorta died before I found out so..." JTTWEgg!LEM: "Ooof. Glad I learned early then." CenturyEgg!SWK, to his SlowBoiled counterpart: "Oh bummer, you got left with Stone Egg all the way back then? I started up the process willingly after I had to seal away DBK. When was the little guy born?" SlowBoiled!SWK: "Little lady actually. Yuebei was born about six months ago. Our MK was crafted by Nuwa - then again I did raise him the first year until I became too weak to care for him..." *looks sad* TMKATI and CenturyEgg monkeys: "Oh no..." :( "Stone eggs are super dangerous to the people around them. I don't blame you." JTTWEgg!SWK: "Odd. I got an Egg from the mountain too - but mine was born shortly after I completed the Journey. And mine was our MK. Did losing Mihou make the process longer??" OG Monkeys: "What?" "How many of you have MK as your kid!?" (*Cue them having to make a Venn Diagram of Whos' MK is What to Whom*) OG!SWK: "Ok so! Mine and the guy with the super-adorbs baby got our MKs dumped on us." SlowBoiled Monkeys: *proudly showing photos of their Yuebei* OG!LEM: "The me in sweatpants had him cus of a comet /slash/ stone egg soul mishap." TMKATI!LEM: "Oh, my Wukong was still responsible there. He sealed the Harbringer's soul inside me after using a sealing spell. TMKATI!SWK: "I panicked, ok!" OG!SWK, pointing at the remaining universes: "Annnd you two literally birthed him yourselves." CenturyEgg and JttwEgg SWKs: "Yup." "Stone shell and all." OG!SWK: "...is there anything else I'm missing?" The other universes: (*scratching their chins in thought*) SlowBoiled!LEM, slyly: "So are you guys back together yet, or what?" OG Monkeys: "What!?" "As if!"

Laughter just erupts around the room as the canon shadowpeach pairing realises that they're the odd ones out as *not* being together.

Complete and utter chaos reigns when the parent and MK groups reunite, and they recognise some sort of connection...

#wukongverse #my aus #lmk aus #jttw aus #shadowpeach #the monkey king and the infant au #the monkey king and the infant #slow boiled stone egg au #jttw stone egged au #lmk century stone egg au #sun wukong #six eared macaque #liu er mihou #qi xiaotian #lmk mk

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anothanobody · 5 months ago

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ANGST Rant- Fic Ideas POST.

Do not read if you do not FW angst and Toxicity.

Love my babies but i’m a fic writer. I crave some toxic scenarios too. Mind me. I love IH with all my heart.

Something about Ichihime is that I cannot write toxicity with them or like full on angst without crying or feeling bad for writing it. I still do tho😭🤣

There was this fic I read a long time ago, the author discontinued it, where IR got married but they’re unhappy. So they cheat. And listen. I hate cheating. BUT my ships cheating FOR each other is a completely different thing 💀 The downside is that it ruins my babies best friendship and it’s obviously OOC🤧 like Ichigo and Rukia, dumber and dumber, Chip and chop, Eddy and Crash. Breaks my heart. But i want to write something like that! toxic, angst! questionable ending! is it really happy! trust issues! 🤧 i don’t know. where they fight their own feelings for mistakes they made and have to live with it. Where Hime and Renji don’t trust them completely anymore when they lament their failed marriage and not seeing them before.

i have another with a chapter already done, where Ichigo was scared of his feelings, after sleeping with Hime a couple of times, and moved away for college without telling her. he leaves a note at her bedside. He comes back engaged to another girl after a little less than a year. [you know in real life, how some men end year long relationships, but get married a few months after to the next woman. i was thinking of that.] twist is that when he comes back to present the girl, the first person they meet is her. Hime fully LOATHES him, but he’s still in love with her while engaged. PINING. 😭 SEE. Like I was crying writing this. That might stay in the drafts. yall might hate me if i published this.

I had another one. Arranged Marriage, historical AU where Ichigo is forced to marry her, she didn’t want to get married at all but to access her wealth she needs to. He had a lover before her that he still wants to see, i don’t know if an OC or a character. But she lets him see the girl, neglected and alone, Orihime withdraws from him, she’s not caring anymore knowing that nothing will get him to see her and starts to fall for the man of another house that consoles her in her loneliness. He misses her, he starts to look for her. A little too late. Hime is conflicted and hurt because her love wasn’t enough for him to notice her. this one might end in a sad ending for IH or a bit complicated if i twist it around. BUT ANGST. ANGST. ANGST. 💀

These are just ideas. i have multiple fluffy fics planned for Ichihime, i just needed to balance them out. 🤣 and share them. like nothing is better than breaking your own heart at thinking of angst scenarios 😭😭😭 like i was crying. my eyes were puffy. why would i do that to myself!!!

you guys have thoughts about this?

#ichihime #ichigo x orihime

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vii0so · 4 months ago

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[BSD 120.5] Theory/Analysis

NOTE BEFORE READING: 90% of this post was written on the day of the chapter's release but got forgotten in my drafts. As I'm too lazy right now to read through and edit, expect things that: make no sense, are worded as if the chapter came out today or recently, stop in the middle of the sentence/incomplete etc. Also for some reason I added stuff not directly relating to the chap...I'm sure I wanted to lead into a bigger point but by now I have no idea what I was going for.

I realised it's almost time for the new chapter and that's how I remembered this was still in my drafts...

So I'm posting it more for me rather than anyone else (which I sort of already do anyway).

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Well well well...it's been another month so I'm here again to put my 2 cents in on this month's chapter.

I'm sure there's no need to say it but the following will contain spoilers for BSD chapter 120.5.

And as always with my long posts...expect me to sidetrack a lot.

This includes a deep dive into Fyodor's title as well.

Today's Topics:

Humanity & Fyodor's outlook

Fyodor's title

Fyodor's humanity

Ability Users & Humans

The page isn't with Fyodor

Thoughts on Fukuzawa's "death"

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Humanity & Fyodor's outlook

Today's chapter gives us a great insight on Fyodor's goal, or at least confirms the one we already knew of and bathes it in a new light. But let's first start with what his outlook on humans is.

"An unlearned outlook befitting of your short lives."

"Your" = humans "Short lives" = human lifespans

This is basically saying: "You haven't lived as long as me so you don't know/understand" Or better yet, "You will never have enough time in your short lives to learn like I did."

Fyodor in his immortal life has seen things, witnessed eras come and go, same with wars. He has had nothing but time to observe humanity and their many flaws.

He believes no one with a short life-span (humans) will understand his learned outlook.

Note: We don't know how old Fyodor actually is. I personally believe that he's over two thousand years old but I only have one small piece of unrelated evidence that supports this. Though, no matter the age, he has lived a long time, that doesn't change.

Fyodor looks genuine in this scene. The look of "acceptance". Accepting the fact that humans won't understand or change, no matter how many centuries pass.

Note: It should be remembered that acceptance does not mean compliance. Fyodor is the perfect example of this.

It honestly feels lonely. Trust me, I don't even like Fyodor but this is just depressing, even for the villain. Imagine your ability has made you pretty much immortal and you watch humanity make the same mistakes, have the same flaws, see them drive themselves to ruin multiple times and no one will ever understand you as they haven't lived as long as you. (Arguably, I'd say Dazai got close)

TLDR: Imagine living forever and watching humans ruin themselves repeatedly and having no one who will understand what you're thinking. That's Fyodor's life.

He lost faith in humanity a long time ago.

Anyway...on a different note (slight backtrack), our boy Atsushi seems to agree or at least understand that "Humanity cannot bear such enormous virtue." Based on his expression here and the panel.

It's like his expression is saying, "Damn, he's right, I've gone through so much to stop this but it's just way too much even for me (an ability user)." or something...idk honestly.

Atsushi is emotionally tuned in with the world so maybe he just saw Fyodor's expression and was like: "holy shi-" again, idk.

"Pure evil"...not like anyone has said otherwise about Fyodor.

His calm yet determined(?) expression when Fukuzawa tells him this shows that he finds what he's doing as necessary and planned.

What Fyodor wants is a world war. Specifically, one that will eliminate all ability users. Instead of getting his hands dirty, it'll be done by humans.

Now, I know that ability users get separated a lot from your every day average human but Fyodor's choice of words shows that he doesn't view ability users as humans at all.

Though, the way he uses the word "humanity" may be more as in those of the greater population, or just "The ones without abilities."

With [One Order] though, does "humanity" include ability users? In theory it should, and yet it doesn't seem that way.

Fyodor believes there will be peace if ability users are gone...Looks like he either has never seen a world without ability users or there's more to this plan than he's letting on.

"What...are you...? I can't possibly see you as human."

Fyodor has never once claimed to be human. Or at least he has never seen himself as human.

And he clearly separates himself from those with short lives (humans) as a different being.

He has been considered a demon throughout the whole series.

Now for my monthly: "Analyse the original Japanese even though I don't speak it."

Today's segment will mostly be my curiosity taking word form, so feel free to skip to the next part or enjoy.

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Fyodor's title

First off, I didn't manage to get the raws to see the spelling of the title. I only heard the spoken Japanese version in the anime, which was "majin".

[ Dazai says it around 12:33 in Season 3 Episode 8 ]

So feel free to interpret it as either [魔神] or [魔人] (both are pronounced as "majin" but have different meanings).

Due to the official translation calling him "conjurer", I thought that maybe it was [ 魔人 ] but the fact that the fan translation calls him "demon", points closer to [ 魔神 ].

Left: Fan translation (DazaiScans) | Right: Official English translation

When you break it down more into individual Kanji, you start to see the difference and similarities.

Both are pronounced as "jin" when in "majin".

[ 魔 ] / "ma" is in both [ 魔神 ] and [ 魔人 ]. And it's from "ma" that we get the more demonic/evil meaning.

So, in a way, even [ 魔人 ] could be seen as "demonic person".

[ 魔 ] / "ma" is in "majin" and "akuma"

Now, when Dazai was called a "demon" he was referred to as "akuma".

As you can see, [ 悪魔 ] is way more serious than [ 魔人 ] or [ 魔神 ] .

This obviously gets lost in translation, as both become "demon".

One instance where Dazai is being referred to as 悪魔 is in the 15 light novel and manga adaptation. For some reason, it's not in the anime.

I'm not here to talk about Dazai's humanity though. I just wanted to show the difference in seriousness of "demon" between the titles*.

*Correction, "Demon" is not Dazai's title. While he has been called as such, his only known title was "Black Wraith" (Kuroi Yuuki - 黒い幽鬼).

Yuuki [ 幽鬼 ] - ghost; revenant; spirit (of the dead); departed soul

Kuro [ 黒 ] - black (as noun) - Kuroi [ 黒い ] = black (as adjective)

So back to the topic at hand!

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Fyodor's humanity

Fyodor being referred to as "majin" instead of "akuma" makes a big difference even if both can be "demon".

In this chapter - as I stated earlier - we see Fyodor talk as if he isn't human. Akuma would refer to a demon - not human, but majin refers more closely to an "evil being", and if it's [ 魔人 ] it can especially be seen as a "demonic/evil human".

Therefore, Fyodor's title shows that he is human, no matter how much he separates himself and the rest of the ability users from the greater human population.

...Wait a minute...just remembered something.

I should have trusted my memory and checked the raws from chapter 120 earlier...it was literally only a month ago and yet I almost forgot Fukuzawa literally used Fyodor's title at the end of the chapter!

So Fyodor's title is [ 魔人 ]

[ 魔 ] for "witch", "demon", "evil spirit"

[ 人 ] for "person"

...Remembering this earlier would have saved me so much time ;-;

I will still keep what I wrote from earlier - my rambling about wether it's [ 魔人 ] or [ 魔神 ] - as I spent way too long on it and don't have enough mental energy to change it.

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Ability Users & Humans

(Specifically in the eyes of Fyodor)

Now that we know it's [ 魔人 ], I can analyse further into Fyodor's view on ability users.

In short, Humans are...humans, I won't go into the foolishness and ugliness of humans, because in life there's death just like there's pain in love, it's yin and yang. Basically: where there's good, there's evil.

人類 - mankind; humanity

異能 - unusual power; superpower; ability beyond that of humans

者 - person (rarely used without a qualifier)

I understand 者 as the user in "ability user"

So 人類 vs 異能者 = Humanity vs Ability users.

[Section Incomplete] - I remember wanting to talk about how Fyodor sees himself and then talking about how that shows how he views humanity and ability users. First off, he doesn't care what he becomes or is seen as. He is the type to "willingly become a demon for future peace" (at least "peace" in his eyes). I remember having a plan (in my head) for this section but...by now I've forgotten and are too lazy to continue it.

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The page isn't with Fyodor

This may sound strange since we see Fukuchi hold the page too but remember: we never saw them actually use/write on the "page" that we've seen. It's basically just a normal piece of paper.

Fukuchi claims the paper he's holding as the page. [Chapter 83.5]

There's no proof of it actually being the page though.

Fyodor offers the page to Atsushi [Chapter 119]

This was Fyodor's plan to show Atsushi that the page is there with them. So that he has no reason to question where the page is.

If you see an apple in front of you, you won't be thinking "I wonder where the apple is" but instead believe that it's right there.

I had a far fetched thought that maybe the page was with Fyodor in the prison and then made to be found by Sigma in the guise of the note claiming he needs help:

When Sigma picks it up, it looks like there are two papers.

And yet, when he shows it to Fyodor there seems to only be a one:

Now of course, this could just be artistic error or even mere perspective but I don't think so. Every detail is usually intentional.

So what's the second paper?

The page.

...possibly

"How did Sigma not realise?" I don't know...Maybe it's been changed to appear as a blank page somehow.

This would tie in with my theory from last update that Fyodor is in a rush to get to Sigma before he wakes up.

Atsushi thinks Fyodor has the page and that he'll have to take it off him (steal it) somehow. He has no idea that the page isn't even close by but instead in Meursault.

A lot of people think "How could Atsushi's day get any worse?"

Well...fight a literal god-like-level being who is controlled by a 2k+ old evil mastermind who wants to get rid of all ability users by manipulating the general public and then never even get the page that you were fighting for because you were being manipulated this entire time and the page was never there...

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Thoughts on Fukuzawa's "death"

First off, I don't think I've mentioned it in my theories so far but I don't believe that those "killed" by ame-no-gozen will stay dead. At some point, all of them will be alive again with no issues.

Anyway, Fukuzawa's "death" reminded me of Rampo after the "Kamui is Fukuchi" discovery. Is this a sign that we'll see him in the next chapter? ...probably not, but it did feel like a parallel, at least to me.

Also, I know last time I said "maybe next chapter he'll die" but no, this is not the death

Btw, this feels like a parallel to me even if it's not exactly the same:

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██████████ Complete!

Note: The following segment was written around a week after the chapter released.

The moment I finished reading the chapter (a few hours after it released) I started typing this immediately. So I've been writing this on and off for a week now...

First, I was tired IRL, then the next day was busy, and the next and the next and...you get it. I probably wrote most of it on the first day while tired so don't mind if anything makes no sense.

This must be the longest theory post I've written for BSD so far...

Should I stop doing long posts? Would you guys prefer short ones? I try to do one long post per chapter, but I feel like not many people read them, precisely because they're long. I like doing it like this as it's more compact (in my opinion) but if you guys would like me to stop the long posts let me know.

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To the people who actually read this post, if anything doesn't make sense or seems incomplete, it's because I wrote all this while tired (35% with a headache) and whenever i came back to write more I couldn't remember what I was trying to say...

It was in my drafts partially incomplete so since we're expecting the new update soon, I remembered this and posted it.

#bsd #bsd atsushi #bsd theories #bsd analysis #bsd spoilers #bsd manga #bsd the book #bungou stray dogs #bungo stray dogs #bsd fyodor #bsd 120.5

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whatcannotbesaid-shallbewept · 4 months ago

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Let's Talk About Some Common Rent Criticisms

This post is long. I didn't mean it I promise.

I like the musical Rent. This is one of my character flaws. Haven’t watched the movie.

I’d much rather be writing a post on why I love Rent. I’ve written posts like that before. I should write another.

But I’m getting kinda sick of certain complaints. For some reason these complaints keep popping up so. I'd thought I'd share my opinions.

I don't think this post will convince anyone but the 3 people on Rentblr will appreciate it I think.

Most of these are very popular critiques, a couple were only said by a few random people on reddit.

If you dislike Rent I bear no ill will towards you. Some of my best friends are Rent haters. It's beautiful to have your own opinion. I just want to share mine.

“I hate Rent because the characters are idiots whining about having to pay rent ”

Ok. That’s not true. Like you know that’s not what they’re complaining about. Like surely you aren’t criticising Rent from parodies of the title song. Surely you watched the actual musical?

Benny’s not complaining about the rent being late. That is not the situation. They aren’t randomly deciding not to pay rent because of a protest. That’s not the plot of the show.

Benny was their friend. He then bought a building and decided to let his friends live there for free. This arrangement goes on for a year.

He calls them up on christmas eve. He doesn’t ask for them to start paying Rent. He decides he’ll evict them immediately if they don’t pay him 12 months of rent.

No one can pay 12 months of rent overnight. It’s an objectively impossible thing to ask of anyone.

If you’d been living at your friends house for a year for free, per your agreement, then they woke up on christmas eve and announced “Sike you actually owe me twelve months of rent and I’m evicting you tomorrow if you don’t pay up immediately” then that friend scammed you!

So yeah then they sing a song about how they’re not going to pay twelve months of rent they were scammed into. Big deal. What would you do in that situation?

They sing that it’s probably a bluff and there’s no actual way he expects us to pay that. And they are right. He was actually trying to blackmail them with the money to force them to stop a protest.

But it wasn’t really a bluff because when they refused he decided to just evict them on christmas day anyway. Charming.

I don’t think landlords should evict people on Christmas because of rent payments you invented the day before.

“Benny is the only likable character and is in the right”

I mean he’s introduced shaking hands with the cops. He calls the police on protesters, so it doesn’t affect his income, and then it turns into a riot because of police violence. He spends the first half of the show desperately trying to evict homeless people. He spends months cheating on his wife with a teenage tenant. And as I said above, scams and evicts his former friends because they dared not to listen to him. What is your argument for him being likable?

Benny in the original drafts was actually very different. Not in actions, all of his actions were literally the same. But his dialogue was written like a capitalist caricature. That’s kinda why his actions are like that of a capitalist caricature.

However the producers of Rent were really unhappy with this characterisation because “it wasn’t realistic” so they asked Jonathan Larson to make him more sympathetic.

So to get his musical made, Jonathan Larson changed pretty much every line of his to sound sympathetic, but kept all his actions the same.

Its interesting how easy people chose to sympathise with him once his lines were edited to sound nicer.

“They should’ve taken Benny’s deal”

No.

Why would they take a deal from a guy who tried to blackmail them an hour ago? Honestly his guy doesn’t seem all that trustworthy. Agreeing to a deal with him literally an hour after he ripped you seems like an extraordinarily stupid thing to do.

They don’t want to evict a bunch of homeless people just to placate this guy they hate. Makes sense to me. I would totally go to the protest instead of listening to him. I would go so far to say… That’s a likable thing to do. A likable character trait even.

“The main cast are all entitled, and won’t stop complaining”

Entitled to what? Not being scammed over with rent?

They don’t even complain that much man. Like after Benny starts his whole rent scheme they just calmly sit there. Calmly speak to him when he comes over. I’ve watched Rent as much as anyone but you guys are going to have to start quoting examples because I don’t know what you mean.

You keep saying the main characters are assholes and the landlord is super reasonable. But this landlord spends the entire show being an awful person and the main cast kinda doesn’t do anything worth hating.

People mention Angels actions all the time, but she's the character that will often get called “the only likable one” so that's clearly not what people are talking about when they complain about unlikeable characters.

(Maureen is comedic relief and not really meant to be sympathised with and not part of the main cast)

“They are just trust fund kids pretending to be oppressed”

This one's a headscratcher. All we know about them is that they’re broke in New york. Why do I hear this so often?

Mimi is a teenager who dropped out of school to work as a stripper to make ends meet. Why would you assume she has rich parents?

Like if you want to assume they’re rich feel free, but since it is not canon it’s a really odd reason to hate the show.

Nowhere in the musical does it state they're rich. All we know is they're broke right now.

If I'm missing a line in the script then tell me. This information is talked about so often like it's canon. Is it from the movie or something?

“It doesn’t even seem like these characters have jobs”

I mean we don’t actually know much about the characters in rent. Like the timeline is pretty chopped up for thematic reasons.

It's sung through and only takes place on holidays like christmas, new years, valentines, halloween. We only see a snippet of these characters lives.

Background material on rent says Mimi ran away from home at 15. It’s never said in the show (though you can guess from how she talks about home) but their backgrounds are kept vague on purpose.

The only time they're not vauge is at the start from which we can gather :

Collins got fired from his university job because of his AIDS activism. Mark is fired a week before the show starts. Mimi works as a stripper. Angel would have a lot of trouble finding work as an openly genderqueer/transgender woman in 1989 - she spends most of her time working for the support group. Roger starts the show recovering from drug withdrawal.

Like in the second act a year goes by, with most of it skipped, and if you want to assume that they were mooching around and had no job you can. But why?

I don’t really think the point of the musical is to hyperfixate on their economic prospects.

Like that’s a bit weird to have as a requirement for liking something. If the characters with AIDS don’t go to the camera and say “I am contributing to society with a job” then you can’t sympathise with them? Ok.

“Mark is doing poverty cosplay because he likes the aesthetic when he could run home to his parents”

Really?

First of all its not established he’s rich (unless a hot plate is some sign of wealth that I’m not getting).

Second, he's not doing poverty cosplay? He’s just broke? That is a thing that happens. He’s not doing poverty cosplay.

Mike Faist had rich parents in the real estate business, then he went to the city to become an actor and lived in the back of Mcdonalds parking lot collecting food stamps. Is it poverty cosplay to struggle financially? Do we need to cancel Mike Faist guys? I'm up for it if you are.

In Santa Fe (the first song written for Rent) he sings the lines “[let's] Forget this cold bohemian hell” [... and] “Devote ourselves to projects that sell”.

People constantly point to the scene where mark “films a homeless woman” but it’s like. Did you see the start of the scene? He was filming police brutality on the homeless in the hopes they would stop. He wasn’t doing it for no reason.

Fun fact: that line when the homeless woman chews him out was added because the director of the show wanted it, it wasn’t even Jonathan Larson's original idea!

“None of the musical is spent on them trying to succeed about artists, and Marks film probably sucks”

Um Rent isn’t about being a struggling artist. That’s just not what it’s about. It’s about AIDS.

Its just not what the show is. It's not the core conflict, its not what most of the scenes are about, and it's barely mentioned and followed up on.

Some of the characters are artists but the timeline takes place on days where that’s the last worry on their minds.

You know a funeral…. Being evicted… Going to a protest…. Yeah no surprise, they weren't expositing about their five year plan to the audience in these situations.

And by the way Mark is a documentarian. I mean he literally is filming a documentary, the first line of the first song is “how do you document real life when real lifes getting more like fiction each day?”. The background materials refer to him as that, he's not making a fiction film.

Like the shooting without a script thing is like an actual thing that happened with amatuer type documentaries in the new queer cinema movement. As filming equipment got cheaper this started happening. It’s pretty cool actually.

"In La Vie Boheme they romanticise poverty"

A couple songs before La Vie Boheme Angel, Collins and Mark do sing the words “Let’s forget this bohemian hell” so I’m not entirely sure when they all sing “long live bohemia” a couple songs later it’s meant to be taken literally.

It’s so obviously a sarcastic song that all I can say is just go listen to it again man.

Like yeah, the song with the line “To Carcinogens and no pension!” is a joke.

“Mark is an idiot for quitting his job”

(You guys know that he’s not the protagonist right? He and Joanne are the only characters not to get proper full dedicated songs focusing on their worldviews. Like it’s a point the show brings up. Mark only shows up in group numbers really because he’s only focused on other people.)

But yeah. Mark quit his job. I mean he worked there for a while he can still put it on his resume. Like, it was always a job he would quit eventually. It’s not exactly one for a lifetime.

It’s also not a good reason to utterly despise him as a person as a lot of people do.

Micheal Pitt is an actor I really like. When he was obscure he actually said no to a big job on a sitcom because he didn’t think it fit with the type of actor he wanted to be.

I personally don’t resent Micheal Pitt for that. I think people are allowed to say no to jobs that pay well.

Sure we live in an internet-poisoned disinformation age but I also wouldn't want to spend my life working for a trashy news service talking about welfare queens?

"Mimi is a spoilt teenager who was is very unsympathetic and an idiot for relapsing"

Ok she’s not spoiled, but whatever.

Anyway, I’m nineteen. I’ve had someone my age die from an overdose/addiction. I think some of these people are being cruel with how they talk about her.

She gets sent to rehab by Benny but then everyone abandons her. She then turns back to drugs because she’s a teenager who thinks she’s going to die in a few months anyway. I personally think that’s painfully sad, not something that makes me despise her.

“Rents corny message about living life to its fullest is insulting to its serious subject”

Jonathan Larson actually started out writing political satire. Most of his career writing musicals was spent writing that. That’s why Benny started out as a capitalist parody.

But with Rent that wasn’t his primary goal. He was inspired by going to AIDS support group. The no day but today mantra was taken from that meeting.

You might think “No day but today” is corny but it has it’s roots in reality.

Rent is a musical about trying to live knowing you’re going to die. “I try to open up to what I don’t know, because reason says I should’ve died three years ago”.

I only watched rent because I saw these comments on a musical subreddit from someone Terminal illness who said they loved Rent because of how it handled this theme.

Rent’s timeline is so chopped up because it only wanted to show these characters at their happiest. It wanted to celebrate their lives, to support its thesis that life was worth living. In the 90s that was subversive. If you read reviews from 90s it mentions how this framing changes the subject matter.

The big belty number that opens act two (and was meant to open the show) is just about trying to make it through the day a minute at a time.

So yeah all the characters deal with their diagnosis differently. Like Angel has a song where she sings “today for you, tomorrow for me” because she’s looking toward the future, Mimi has a song called “Out Tonight” because she’s focused on the present to the expense of herself and Roger has a song called “Another Day” because he’s focused on the present at the expense of himself. it’s pretty obvious guys.

Maybe you think it’s irrelevant but as a person who had people my age die around me, I don’t think so. I think it’s very emotionally touching and I’m glad Rent chose the themes it did.

“Mimi should’ve died at the end of the musical because her surviving means there’s no theme”

Read above. If you’re going to make a musical about people trying to accept and not give up on life… Then you need to have a character learn that lesson.

Crazy because if you read old internet forums people didn’t assume Mimi survived past the shows end. It was known that AIDS was a death sentence, so when Mimi woke up people just assumed it wasn’t for forever.

And that’s the intended interpretation! After Mimi wakes up she sings Finale B which is a reprise of a lot of different songs from the musical. They doesn’t reprise the fun lyrics no - they sing all the stuff about being scared to die from AIDS.

Because they weren’t magically cured - the only difference is they’re dealing with it better. That's the entire reason they sing Finale B.

If Mimi died before the show ended it would just undercut all of the themes?

It really doesn’t surprise me you disliked Rent, it seems like you were ignoring all of the major themes. It kinda seems like all these other critiques come from people just struggling to articulate that they don’t get the point of Rent.

Like plot twist, one of the only musicals to win the Putlizer Prize has a point to say.

“Go to hell” is basic. “I hope the thing you like gets misinterpreted and hated on for years until its reputation is unsalvageable” It’s possible. It’s terrifying. It happened to me.

#i know its long im sorry we all make mistakes in our youth #rent musical #not even sure why these talking points got popular but oh well #idc if you hate rent i understand even #i just disagree with certain reasons people cite #musicals #musical theatre

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