#im standing on the precipice

[billywilde]

I'm going to be 25 in a couple months...

[gilfrespecter]

Listening to coinstar by the growlers and thinking about mel so hard I get nauseous

Ridiculous stream of conscious in the tags apologies but not really

[pastelpolitoed]

I truly think I just need a really really long hug from someone who loves me, ya know?

[thats-sir-dyke-to-you]

Not to be a sap on main but i keep thinking about her hair

[leathermouthlives]

i have a disease called being a valley girl and it spreads to the way i type

[twistedlovelines]

Riddle..... Riddle getting pegged for the first time

Ugh I'm gonna be sick 😵

IM FROTHING AT THE MOUTH FR...

he's not really been. exposed to the idea of anal besides hearing his fellow classmates joke about it and hearing the occasional story from cater. so when you propose the idea to him his knee jerk reaction is to den you outright but. it's you. you, who's never pushed him beyond what he could handle, had never been angry at his refusal, and had been patient when he would teeter on the precipice of exploration but had only allowed himself to fall with your hand guiding him through...

so he bites his tongue instead of snapping at the idea outright. focuses his gaze on the corner of your hand instead of your eyes and asks what that entails. feels himself smile when your face brightens in excitement and you move to his side and pull out your laptop. you've already saved a few toys and guides on how to prepare oneself for getting pegged, and you explain the idea to him as thought it were art- it is, you insist.

you ask if he'd prefer for you to finger him for the first time, and he finds himself agreeing easily. having your reassurance, your certainty guide him through the act is comforting. the tips of his ears burn a lovely red when your lubed finger presses up against his hole, and he finds himself whimpering as you enter him, arching his chest into yours.

"you're doing so well for me," you croon, and he nearly cums on the spot.

~

you do this a few more times with him, shifting to the use of small dildos to get him used to the stretch of your own cock. the initial discomfort fades quickly after so much training, and riddle whines the first time he sees you wear your strap, thighs opening without a second thought.

you had spent the past hour or so prepping him already, and his pretty cock hovers above his abdomen as you position yourself, a pearl of pre-cum dripping onto his scarlet pubes.

"are you just going to stand there," he demands, feeling his face grow warm at how much it sounds like a plea.

"easy," you chuckle, stroking the lubed surface of your strap, leaning forward to brush a kiss against his lips. "I don't want to hurt you."

he knows. and its infuriating- your consideration of his comfort has been nothing but kind, yet he can't help but wish you were a bit less gentle with him, let him feel your desire run along his skin hot enough to leave marks.

he knows you know this, and the kisses you pepper his neck with, combined with the weight of your strap's head resting at his hole make him nearly want to wrest it from you himself.

which is why his legs wrap around your waist tightly after you've eased your way in fully, a sharp keen rising from riddle's throat as he grinds against the base of your strap. he feels your breath puff against his skin in a breathy chuckle, hands braced against either side of his head as you bow over his form in a sort of reverence that makes riddle want to cry.

"i've made you impatient, haven't i," you laugh, gaze meeting his with nothing short of fondness. "sorry about that, riddle."

you kiss him as your hips rock against his own, savoring each gasp and moan that flees from his mouth.

"i'll make it up to you, promise."

[hopetune]

Then—Silence. More potent than it had been when she had been Alone. A Quietness Distilled, perhaps, by the question that the loyal hound sends her way. The Stillness does not scare her. A Breath—for a beat, for a Moment—is something she knows can be needed. It is how she must break it that she is less sure of.

"...When my brother and I were younger, we rescued a fledgling Charmony Dove from the garden."

Robin meets Gallagher's gaze. There is a sense of Lostness in her eyes, a darting motion of her pupils that betrays the careful labyrinthine navigation of her thoughts.

"It had been too young to fly, but had been abandoned by its mother. Wishing badly to save it, my brother suggested keeping it caged. It lived by a window in my bedroom. Though it seemed to live a happy life, I still yearned to give it freedom. So when I left Penacony, I released it from its cage and sent it flying out."

Failure. Failure. She is familiar with that term. It is when wings can no longer carry your body towards the sky—when a bullet is put through the throat of a songbird as it warbles—when wax melts beneath the light of the Sun and a body falls, and falls, and falls, with Nobody to catch it. Failure is what keeps cages locked and doves grounded and what drives people away from Hope's feathery embrace.

"My brother never told me this, but… I knew that little bird never reached the sky. Its wings could not have been able to handle the weight of its own body, and it would have fallen soon after I released it. That's what I believe failing means."

Robin sighs, still quite Unhappy. And so she returns to this Moment, to this Question, with no better Answers than she had begun. The question of birds and falling, of trains and stops—will there ever be an end to them? Despite her work, despite this conversation, she feels no closer to gaining an Understanding of it. She has grazed its skin but has not captured its elusive embrace. Yet she feels she cannot abandon this Path. Is that such a wrong choice? She still doesn't know. She'd like to believe it isn't. That belief is all she has.

"It was a bitter lesson I had to learn. If birds belong to the sky, then why did that one fall? This is the question that has been haunting me, especially as of late. Though I hold strong to the belief that everyone should be able to fly… I still don't have an answer to that question. I have been operating on faith all this time. The very nature of faith is that you must trust despite not knowing. But I cannot deny my wish to know." 

Her selfish, selfish wish, one that lies beyond the realm of whatever possibilities she can be assured of. Robin closes her eyes. "To know… if my brother can make it to the sky once more. Despite that train's departure, despite his wings being unable to carry him... Would I be able to catch him when I cannot even dispel my own doubt?"

A huff leaves her lips, a short exhale of sad laughter. "Ah… I fear I'm beginning to sound like him. Of course I'd like to believe… but… but..."

Her voice slowly trails off. Robin tries to catch the words but grasps only at Nothing.

Then—Silence.

A Quietness distilled

˚ʚ [robin & gallagher] ɞ˚

[alyrasturnz]

Your hcs are my everything! Pls write matt hcs after a super heated fight

 ‎ ‎ ‎‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎IN THE WAKE OF TEMPESTS

❐ summary » in the aftermath of a tempestuous clash, matt found himself standing on the precipice of a profound realization. the gravity of what he was jeopardizing struck him with the force of a thousand regrets. with a heart heavy with remorse and determination, he embarked on a relentless quest to mend the rift, employing every ounce of his being to restore your wounded spirit and rekindle the fragile flame of your connection.

❐ pairings » bf!matt x fem!reader

❐ warnings » none i think

❐ a/n && w/c » i wasnt supposed to just post hcs today but im way too sick for this shit bro • 576

during the argument

bf!matt who feels his heart racing, words spilling out faster than he can control, each one sharper than the last.

bf!matt who sees the hurt in your eyes but can't seem to stop himself, frustration clouding his judgment.

bf!matt who raises his voice, the room filled with the echoes of anger and misunderstanding.

bf!matt who feels a pang of regret with every harsh word, knowing deep down he's only pushing you further away.

bf!matt who clenches his fists, not in anger at you, but at his own inability to communicate his feelings clearly.

bf!matt who watches as the distance between you grows, the emotional chasm widening with each passing second.

bf!matt who wants to reach out and hold you, but his pride keeps him rooted in place, unable to bridge the gap.

bf!matt who feels the weight of his words hanging in the air, heavy and irreversible, as the argument reaches its peak.

bf!matt who feels the sting of his own tears welling up, but refuses to let them fall, not wanting to show his vulnerability.

bf!matt who notices the way your hands tremble, and it breaks his heart even more, knowing he's the cause.

bf!matt who tries to remember the love that brought you two together, but it's drowned out by the heat of the moment.

bf!matt who feels the room grow colder, the warmth of your connection slipping through his fingers like sand.

bf!matt who hears the silence that follows each outburst, louder and more deafening than the shouting.

bf!matt who catches a glimpse of a photo of you two in happier times, and it feels like a punch to the gut, a reminder of what he's risking.

bf!matt who wants to apologize, to take it all back, but the words are stuck in his throat, choked by pride and fear.

bf!matt who finally sees the tears in your eyes, and it feels like a dagger to his heart, realizing the depth of the hurt he's caused.

»--•--«

the aftermath

bf!matt who paces back and forth, replaying the argument in his mind, trying to find the right words to make it right.

bf!matt who knows he messed up, and the weight of his words feels like an anchor pulling him down.

bf!matt who can't stand the silence between you two and wishes he could rewind time to take back the hurtful things he said.

bf!matt whosends you a heartfelt text, pouring out his feelings, hoping you'll understand and forgive him.

bf!matt who shows up at your door with your favorite flowers, a silent apology in his eyes.

bf!matt who wraps you in a tight hug, whispering how much he loves you and how sorry he is for everything.

bf!matt who promises to communicate better, to listen more, and to never let a fight come between you two again.

bf!matt who spends the night holding you close, cherishing every moment and vowing to make things right.

bf!matt who thinks about the little things he can do to make you smile again, like leaving sweet notes or making your favorite breakfast.

bf!matt who feels the sting of regret every time he sees you looking sad, and it fuels his determination to be a better partner.

bf!matt who spends time reflecting on his actions, trying to understand your perspective and learn from his mistakes.

bf!matt who cherishes the moments when you start to open up again, feeling relieved that the connection between you two is healing.

bf!matt who silently vows to never let his temper get the best of him again, knowing that your love is worth more than any argument.

tags — @imwetforyourmom @meatballzerz69 @bandanamatt @pinkishpearls @thedangerousalleyway @sturniolo0bsessed @muchloveforhacker @stinkytinkywinky @jetameivous @everleiqh @conspiracy-ash @ifwdominicfike

[luvrseung]

𝐛𝐚𝐧𝐚𝐧𝐚 𝐦𝐢𝐥𝐤 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐛𝐢𝐤𝐞𝐬

## pairing(s)! motorcycle driver heeseung! x yn!

## synopsis! yn's life takes an unexpected turn when she catches her boyfriend cheating on her and she meets the mysterious Heeseung, a captivating man on a motorcycle. After a brief yet memorable encounter, he vanishes, leaving her longing for more. Months later, they cross paths again. Yn's mixed emotions and Heeseung's determination do they have a happy ending?

## genre! not too bad angst, fluff at the end ! Idk dude I just work here

## wc! 8.9k

## warning(s)! cursing, and not much else?? but if u feel like there should be a warning for anything else, please let me know asap!!

## a/n! THIS IS MY LONGEST FIC EVER EVERRRRR. its currently 4:15 am as i post this and i have class at 11! hahaha.. anyways. inspo hit me like a truck... well, like a motorcycle HEHEHE. ahem.. okay. i hope you guys like this i really enjoyed writing it! please send me any feedback! mwah mwah i love uu i go sleep now! also pls don't mind any typos or errors im so delirious rn thank u bye bye

You step out of the dimly lit restroom, returning to the bar, only to find an empty seat beside you, where your boyfriend was seated just moments ago. His jacket remains draped over the backrest, a silent testament to his brief absence. Curiosity piques your interest as you assume he must have also ventured to the restroom. Settling in, you rest your head on your hand, elbow propped against the sleek bar, and survey the vibrant club that surrounds you. The music's thunderous pulse reverberates through your chest, infusing the air with almost a tangible energy. A sensual blend of alcohol and alluring perfumes weaves a heavy tapestry which fills your senses. In this tantalizing environment, the crowd is a dynamic kaleidoscope of movement and emotion—dancers, laughter, clinking glasses, tendrils of smoke swirling upward—each contributing to the sensory feast. Among the sea of passion and revelry, a singular couple draws your unwavering attention. Their fervent embrace seems to defy the boundaries of time and space, an intense kiss that hangs on the precipice of necessity. In an instant, your heart plummets, and the couple reluctantly disentangles from each other. As your gaze locks onto their faces, the unfolding revelation leaves you breathless.

As you rise from your barstool, your steps carry a mix of uncertainty and disbelief, drawing you inexorably toward the pulsating heart of the dance floor. The scene before your eyes demands confirmation, and what you find shatters your world in an instant. There, under the chaotic spell of the music's relentless rhythm, stands your boyfriend, now a stranger, locked in a passionate embrace with another woman. Her arms are a seductive snakily coil around the back of his neck, and their laughter mingles with the infectious beats of the music, now assaulting your ears as you reach the realization of betrayal. A concoction of emotions—upset, betrayal, and the intoxicating fumes of alcohol—swirl within you, drawing you forward as the heat crawls up your face and flows into the rest of your body. Your feet guide you through the trembling beat, and, with a burst of fiery rage, you confront the pair. In an act of defiance and heartbreak, your open palm collides with your now ex-boyfriend's cheek in a resounding slap, the sound lost in the under the booming music that fills the club. The mysterious girl, who moments ago was dancing with him, stumbles back, her face etched with shock and disbelief. With your wounded pride, you retreat to the sanctuary of the bar. A final shot materializes before you, its amber contents beckoning with an illusory promise of numbness. You down the drink with the recklessness and no caution, the burn in your throat eclipsed by the feeling of your shattered heart.

You inform the bartender with a casual wave that the responsibility for the bill rests with the man you arrived with, an excuse that offers a semblance of dignity as you navigate your unsteady exit from the bar's confines. The city's nightlife swirls around you, a vivid blanket of neon lights and indistinct conversations. Perched on the curb outside the bar, you release a heavy, audible sigh that seems to resonate with the depth of your emotions. The exasperated "pfft" escapes your lips as you dismissively mutter, "What a waste." you recline, propping yourself up on your arms behind you, while your gaze ascends towards the night sky. It's as if you're summoning the attention of a god you don't even believe in, the stars and the moon bearing witness to your turmoil. Unbidden tears begin to well in your eyes, forming glistening pools that threaten to overflow. Yet, in a strange paradox, laughter bubbles up from within your heavy chest, as if mocking the absurdity of the situation. "He made a mistake… losing me? How stupid," you whisper to yourself, the words a bittersweet blend of self-affirmation and ironic amusement. Your tears, now fallen, trace glittering paths down your cheeks, their journey reflecting the city's glimmering lights. You cast your gaze downward, scrutinizing your ensemble—a striking red dress that billows around you, paired with towering, sleek black heels. In that moment of reflection, you realize that it was not you who was lost; it was him. Your attire serves as a poignant reminder that you are a treasure to be cherished, a realization that strengthens your resolve even as tears continue to fall.

Amid the quiet solace of your unspoken sorrows, the sudden roar of a motorcycle's powerful engine reverberates through the air, and your attention is instinctively drawn to the source. With a magnetic allure, the motorcycle glides to a stop not far from your lonesome, commanding your undivided focus. You study the machine as if decoding a riddle; its lustrous body gleams in pristine white, a stark contrast to the glinting silver rims of the wheels. The interior and seats, ensconced in shadowy allure, exude an air of enigmatic sophistication, cloaked in inky blackness. Seated astride this mechanical masterpiece is a man who embodies a paradox of rugged elegance. He possesses a commanding yet lean figure, an epitome of grace and strength that defies the bounds of convention. Draped in a formidable, protective black jacket, his attire is sending your brain into a frenzy. Fitting black jeans encase his legs, while black gloves envelope his hands with a subtle promise of concealed purpose. Each step echoing an aura of intrigue, he dons a pair of black Doc Marten boots, their resolute presence amplifying his enigmatic appeal. Atop the mysterious man’s figure sits a gloss-black helmet, its contours hinting at the mysteries that lie beneath.

With deliberate grace, he lifts the helmet from his head, revealing a crown of luxurious, dark purple locks. Your astonishment lingers in the air, and you can't help but be drawn to the allure of this captivating stranger. To call your fascination mere curiosity would be a gross understatement. Each of his features appears meticulously crafted, from his silver-clad ears adorned with earrings, to a proud and tall nose, and his eyes—those big beguiling orbs that seem to harbor a pool of secrets within. It's a visage that commands attention, the embodiment of an elusive charm that ignites your every sense. In a moment of serendipity, your eyes meet, the spark of connection bridging the gap between strangers. He saunters toward the store adjacent to the bar, a fleeting look of mischief dancing in his eyes. A playful wink and an enigmatic smile are cast in your direction, a wordless invitation that beckons with a magnetic pull. He dismounts from his motorcycle with an elegance that mirrors the grace of a dancer, setting the helmet upon the seat . As he disappears into the depths of the store, the intoxicating combination of your inebriation and the fragile state of your emotions conspire to form a whimsical yet irresistible decision. It's a gravitational force that leaves you with no choice but to step into the store and follow the purple-haired enigma, your heart beating in time with the uncharted journey that awaits.

As the convenience store door chimes melodically with your entry, a tingle of excitement courses through the air. The purple-haired enigma, the pull of destiny that brought you here, stands before you, a magnetic presence that seems to command every aisle. His striking figure exudes an aura that is both electrifying and tantalizing, and you can't help but gravitate toward him. With fluid grace, he reaches into the fridge to retrieve a drink, his movements a mesmerizing dance of confidence. You approach, and behind the cool, glass refrigerator door, your eyes lock in a seductive connection. He acknowledges your presence with a sultry smile that ignites the room. With an air of unshakable self-assuredness, you compliment his sleek motorcycle, your words laced with a smoldering charm. His response is a flirtatious grin, and as he rises to his full, towering height, he gazes down upon you, a titillating hint of promise in his eyes. "Thanks, ever been on a bike before, pretty girl?" he inquires, the huskiness of his voice sending electric shivers down your spine. Butterflies flutter wildly in your stomach as his words hang in the air. You return the provocative banter, testing the waters of this intriguing encounter. “Is this an invitation mr……?.”

“Heeseung. Lee Heeseung.” He introduces himself with a name that rolls off his tongue like a forbidden secret—Lee Heeseung. His playful response drips with allure, and you find yourself ensnared in the the moment. "And maybe it is an invitation… if you're willing to accept, Miss …..”? Your own name tastes sweeter than ever on your lips as you tease him with a hint of coyness, “Yn. Y/ln Yn. And why should I Lee?” Heeseung's perceptive eyes dart to the mascara-stained traces of tears on your face, his gaze tracing the invisible scars etched upon your soul. He tenderly points to your head, his words laden with a quiet understanding. "Judging by the mascara-stained tears on your face, I think a ride would fix whatever troubled that pretty little head of yours." A shy smile dances upon your lips, your heart pounding with a mixture of vulnerability and courage. "Got an extra helmet, then?" You say as acceptance to his offer. Heeseung's smirk deepens, his voice dripping with a seductive promise. "Good girl. Of course I do. You never know who needs a good ride." The air crackles with the electrifying energy of an adventure about to unfurl, as you and Lee Heeseung step into the thrilling unknown, united by the allure of the night.

In one hand, he clutches a tall, foreboding can of Monster energy drink, its vibrant, neon label a stark contrast to the other hand, which cradles a diminutive yellow box adorned with the endearing label "banana milk." The curious combination of his selections hints at the multifaceted personality of the man who has now become your enigmatic companion. With the transaction complete, the two of you emerge from the convenience store, and Heeseung extends a seemingly casual but unmistakably thoughtful gesture—offering you the little yellow box of banana milk. You accept it with a raised eyebrow, your curiosity piqued. "How'd you know I liked this, Lee?" you inquire, your voice touched by intrigue. A mischievous smile graces Heeseung's lips as he leans in a bit closer, and his response dances on the edges of flirtation, causing the butterflies in your stomach to stir with newfound hunger. "Pretty girls, like you, like banana milk," he teases, his words delivered with an artful charm that sends a shiver of excitement coursing through you. Grateful for his gesture, you return the enchanting smile, the air thick with an electrifying tension. As you both make your way toward the magnificent motorcycle that had initially captivated your attention, anticipation courses through your veins, setting your body aglow with excitement. You stand behind Heeseung, observing his every move with eager eyes. With practiced ease, he opens a concealed compartment at the back of the bike, revealing a second helmet that bears a striking silver star on either side. It's a unique touch that adds to the enigma of the man before you. Heeseung places your drinks within the compartment, where the second helmet once resided. With a smooth and assured motion, he secures the compartment and then offers you your designated helmet, a symbol of the adventure you're about to embark on together. As you accept the helmet from his hand, the magnetic connection between you deepens, and the night unfolds with the promise of thrilling secrets yet to be unveiled.

With the banana milk safely stowed and the helmet now snug upon your head, the night holds an air of mystery and excitement as you both approach the waiting motorcycle. Heeseung's slender frame moves with grace as he swings a leg over the sleek, white machine. He turns toward you, his eyes locking onto yours with an intensity that sends an electric pulse through your veins. "Make sure you hold on, doll," he says, his voice dipped in a heady blend of charm and raw anticipation. His words are laced with a promise of thrilling adventure, and your heart skips a beat as you grasp the significance of this moment. You eagerly position yourself behind him, forgetting all about your ex boyfriend and the events that took place before. your arms wrapping around his lean waist, fingers instinctively clutching the fabric of his black jacket. The powerful engine roars to life beneath you, its growl a primal invitation to the night. Heeseung's gloved hands deftly manipulate the handlebars, and in an exhilarating surge of acceleration, you both glide out of the convenience store's parking lot and onto the main road. The world becomes a mesmerizing blur of vibrant colors and lights as the motorcycle snakes through the city's labyrinthine streets, framed by beautifully illuminated buildings that reach skyward, a testament to humanity's creativity. The cool night air rushes over you, and the city's pulsating energy envelopes you, offering an intoxicating taste of freedom and escape. As the wind whips through your hair, and the city's mesmerizing lights create a captivating painting, you can't help but feel that you've stepped into a dream. With every twist and turn, Heeseung's driving skill reveals itself, and you're reminded of the harmony between man and machine. In this exhilarating dance through the heart of the city, you're not just a passenger; you're a partner in a thrilling adventure, bound by the allure of the night and the enigmatic man who now shares it with you.

As the motorcycle effortlessly weaves through the city's enchanting streets, Heeseung's lean frame seems to meld with the machine, and you can sense his exhilaration in the subtle movements and graceful leans. Every curve and twist of the road is navigated with a fluidity that suggests an intimate understanding between rider and ride. The city's lights create a dazzling panorama around you, and you revel in the symphony of sensations that surrounds you. After what feels like an eternity of blissful exploration, the first hints of daylight begin to break on the horizon, casting a soft, golden glow upon the cityscape. It's a bittersweet reminder that this enchanting ride must eventually come to an end. With a quiet understanding, Heeseung steers the motorcycle to a stop in front of your home, and the engine's growl reluctantly gives way to the stillness of the early morning. As you dismount the bike, you can't help but feel a mixture of gratitude and a hint of longing for the adventure that has brought you closer. Heeseung turns toward you, his eyes holding a sparkle that mirrors the city's lights. "I hope you enjoyed the ride as much as I did, pretty girl,” he says, his voice a blend of sincerity and allure. "I did enjoy it, lee.” Your eyes lock onto his, and you can't resist a teasing smile. "I have to admit, I'm not sure if it was the city or the company that made it so enjoyable." He chuckles softly, his gaze lingering on you. "Perhaps it's a bit of both. I hope I made you forget what you were crying about earlier.”

With an air of anticipation, Heeseung closes the enchanting gap between you, his footsteps a playful dance that mirrors the rhythm of your heart. You find yourself drawn closer to him, a mix of curiosity and desire, hoping for a kiss that promises to be electric. But Heeseung, ever the tease, surprises you by gently capturing your hand in his gloved grasp. His lips brush against your knuckles, leaving behind a soft and lingering kiss that sends a thrill down your spine. A mischievous sparkle dances in his eyes as he takes a step back, though his hold on your hand remains. A mischievous smirk plays upon his lips as he takes a step back, and your hands, still intertwined, reluctantly part as the space between you expands. but the connection between your souls remains undeniably strong. Heeseung places your helmet back into the motorcycle's compartment, his every motion a graceful symphony of closure, yet the moment is still heavy with the sweet ache of parting. He retrieves the little yellow box of banana milk, and with a look that speaks of unspoken promises and possibilities, he adds to the enchanting ambiance. As you turn away to make your way inside, your heart swells with emotions, and it's then you hear his voice, soft and filled with affectionate playfulness, "Heads up, princess!" Your head snaps around, your eyes locking onto Heeseung seated on the motorcycle, revving the engine with a fervor that mirrors the passion between you. With a flourish, he tosses the banana milk to you, and you catch it . Your heart flutters like a love-struck bird, and you're left standing there, watching the back of his retreating figure with eyes filled with longing. As the cold morning air surrounds you, you're reminded of the warmth and excitement that has filled this magical night. With a heart full of happiness, you finally turn to head inside.

In the cozy sanctuary of your home, you close the door behind you with a gentle sigh, leaning against it as you bask in the afterglow of this night. The memories of what transpired outside are like a symphony of emotions playing in your heart, each note resonating with the tender and profound love that has blossomed between you and Heeseung. The room envelops you in its intimate embrace, illuminated by the soft, warm glow of the night. As you lean against the door, the walls seem to hold the echoes of the moments shared, and you're overcome by a sense of profound romance that fills the very air you breathe. The night was a love story written in the stars, a story of two souls drawn together by destiny and fueled by a love that's destined to endure. Despite breaking every single rule of stranger danger, you wish this night couldve lasted forever.

As you ascend the stairs to your room, a sense of contentment and longing accompanies you. The banana milk, a sweet reminder of an unforgettable night, finds its place on your bedside table, a silent guardian of your dreams. The room envelops you in its cozy warmth, the atmosphere carrying the residual fragrance of romance and adventure. In the dim light, you prepare for a soothing shower, letting the cascading water wash away the remnants of the night. Your thoughts, however, remain tethered to the enigmatic Lee Heeseung. Questions and desires swirl within your mind, like a gentle storm of emotions.

After the warmth of the shower, you don your pajamas from the night before, their familiarity a source of comfort as you slip between the soft sheets of your bed. Your body, tired but satiated, yearns for rest, yet your heart and mind remain restless, still inextricably tangled in the enchantment of the night. Thoughts of him, like whispers in the night, dance through your mind. "When will I see him again?" and "I wish we had exchanged information" echo in the chambers of your thoughts. Who is this mysterious man, Lee Heeseung, who has touched your heart so deeply? The unanswered questions propel you to flip open your phone, your curiosity overriding the myriad missed calls and texts from your unfaithful ex-boyfriend. Instagram becomes your portal to seek out the enigma named Lee Heeseung.

A sense of disappointment settles over you as your search on various social media platforms yields nothing. Lee Heeseung remains a ghost, elusive and untraceable in the digital realm. It's as if he exists only in the echoes of your memories, and the absence of any digital footprint only adds to his mystique. In your moment of quiet contemplation, a yearning for his presence intensifies. The desire to see him again, to unravel the enigma that is Lee Heeseung, becomes an undeniable ache within you. The thought that he knows where you live, and the lingering memories of your night together, offer a glimmer of hope that he might return. The idea that fate might bring you two together once more fills your heart with anticipation and longing. As you close your eyes and surrender to the night's embrace, you can't help but wonder when the stars will align, and the mysterious Lee Heeseung will reappear in your life.

As days turned into weeks, and weeks into months, the longing in your heart grew stronger. Spring had arrived, heralding the return of life and the vibrant colors of the world, yet it also marked the lingering absence of Heeseung, the man who had swept into your life as quickly as a shooting star and vanished just as abruptly. Every motorcycle that whizzed past you on the bustling streets of your city drew your attention like a magnet. A spark of curiosity ignited within you, and the questions were ceaseless. "Was that him? Does he still think of me?" These thoughts had woven themselves into the very fabric of your existence, haunting your every moment. The memories of that unforgettable night had become a bittersweet symphony that played on a loop in your mind.

Despite the love and support of your incredible friends, your loving family, and a fulfilling job, the void Heeseung had left in your life persisted. The allure of "what could've been" weighed heavy on your heart, like a melody left unfinished, a dance cut short, or a love story left untold. In the midst of your everyday life, the longing for the man named Lee Heeseung never waned. Your heart carried the echoes of his touch, the memory of his gaze, and the whispers of a love story that had never fully unfurled. With every passing day, your desire for his return only intensified, like a fire that refused to be extinguished.

It was a typical Tuesday, just like any other weekday, as you made your way into the bustling work building, greeted by the friendly faces of your coworkers who had also become your cherished friends. Jake, ever the playful one, couldn't resist bringing up the topic of your elusive Heeseung. "How are you, YN? Still no luck with this Heeseung guy?" he inquired with a mischievous glint in his eye. You let out a dramatic sigh, a playful air of exasperation in your response. "Unfortunately, no, Jake. Trust me, I would've told you if I had any news," you said with a chuckle. Jay, another dear friend of yours, joined the conversation, bringing with him a delightful surprise in the form of coffee for both you and Jake. With a comforting smile, he chimed in, "Don't worry, Ynnie, maybe he lives in a different town and was just there that night for you!" You couldn't help but offer an appreciative grin in response to Jay's attempt at comfort. His words were like a warm embrace, reassuring you in your quest for answers. Then, a new proposal surfaced, and it was Jay who initiated it. "Oh, by the way, Jake and I found out that there's been underground racing events in our city. We've been meaning to check it out. Wanna come with?" At first, you hesitated, but Jay's persuasive nature quickly took hold. "C'mon, YN!" Jake chimed in, adding his own brand of playfulness. "It'll be fun! Who knows, maybe you'll find Heeseung there! … or a different cute motorcycle guy at least." You let out a laugh that admitted defeat. "Okay, okay, I'll check it out with you guys. But if it's boring, you're buying me a burger." Jay quickly agreed to the wager. "Fine. Deal. But it won't be boring!" he declared with unwavering enthusiasm. "Mhm, we'll see," you replied with a sly grin, anticipating the playful adventures that lay ahead with your close friends, all while hoping that amidst the thrills of underground racing, you might find the one you longed for – or perhaps, something equally captivating.

As the workday drew to a close, you bid your colleagues and friends farewell, exchanging a series of cheerful goodbyes and promises to reconvene tomorrow. Last in line to receive your parting words were your friends, and it was Jake who left you with a playful reminder. "We'll pick you up at 10, ynnie~,” he declared with a mischievous glint in his eye. Your response was a melodious giggle as you affectionately ruffled his hair, a signal of your confirmation.

Once home, the weight of the day's responsibilities dissipated like a passing storm. Shoes were unceremoniously discarded, your bag and jacket flung haphazardly onto the floor, and with a contented sigh, you sank into the inviting embrace of your couch. Retrieving your phone, you embarked on a determined quest to research the underground racing scene, the glimmer of hope in your chest steadily growing brighter with every tap of your fingers.

The prospect of possibly encountering Heeseung again ignited a certain spark in your eyes, a fire of desire that refused to be extinguished. Yet, much like the elusive enigma of the man himself, your online investigation yielded no information about these races. It was as though the world had conspired to keep their existence hidden, a fitting scenario for events that were undoubtedly illegal. As you set your phone aside, your thoughts began to spiral in a torrent of what-ifs. What if Heeseung is there, but his interest had always been elsewhere? What if he's not present? What if he doesn't even notice you? These unceasing questions threatened to consume your mind, and you shook your head, as if such an act could dispel these relentless thoughts. Determined to quell the storm of uncertainties that raged within you, you took a deep breath and resolved to face the night with unwavering optimism.

With the plan in place, you had agreed that the guys would hang out at your place before the big race. Jake and Jay, after their workday, rushed home, got dressed for the evening, and then made their way to your doorstep around 7:30. You swung open the door in your comfy pajamas, greeting the duo with warm hugs and bright smiles. "Alright, guys," you chimed in, "I'm going to get ready now. You said we're leaving at 10, right?" They both confirmed your question with a nod, and you headed upstairs to prepare for the night ahead. As you left the living room, the two friends made themselves at home, lounging comfortably on your couch and taking charge of the TV. The anticipation for the evening ahead filled the air, and the sense of camaraderie between the three of you was a reassuring presence, setting the tone for the exciting adventure that lay just around the corner.

Upstairs in your room, you embarked on the grand battle that is getting ready for a night out. The soft glow of your vanity mirror cast a warm light on your determined face as you transformed your appearance for the evening. Your makeup was an elegant fusion of dark and bold, with a smoky eyeliner that accentuated your eyes and a luscious dark red lip gloss that heightened the allure of your lips. The result was a striking look that suited your features beautifully. You took a few moments to curl the ends of your hair, creating soft, cascading waves that reached down to your lower back. These curls were swept up into a high, sleek ponytail, with two delicate strands left loose to elegantly frame your face. Your outfit had been meticulously selected, not only with Heeseung in mind but also with the exciting prospect of possibly meeting someone new at this enigmatic race. Dark red leather pants, designed to hug your curves in all the right ways, were paired with a lace black tank top, adding a touch of sensuality to your ensemble. To complete the look, you adorned yourself with a black and white leather jacket that draped over your shoulders like whipped cream on a tantalizing sundae. In your full-length mirror, you admired the reflection of a confident and captivating woman, well aware of her own allure. A pair of sleek black boots adorned your feet, and you accessorized with a silver necklace featuring a delicate pendant and matching earrings, adding a touch of sophistication to your ensemble. To crown your transformation, you picked up your favorite perfume bottle, and with each spritz, a beautiful aroma enveloped you like a fragrant embrace. The battle of getting ready was won, and you felt like a queen in your own right. With a final glance in the mirror, you knew you looked stunning and were ready to face whatever the night had in store. With your purse in hand, you headed downstairs, prepared to join your friends who were patiently waiting for you.

"DAMN YN!" Jay and Jake exclaimed in unison as you descended the stairs, the sight of your stunning transformation leaving them momentarily breathless. A beaming smile graced your lips as their admiration washed over you. "Thank you, boys," you replied with a gracious nod, giving them a playful twirl to showcase your meticulously chosen outfit. "Do I look good?" you asked, a hint of playful teasing in your voice. "You know you do," Jay responded with a smile, but he was eager to get going. "Now, let's get moving! It's nearly 10:15." You waved off his concern with a nonchalant chuckle. "Oh, please, there's no way these things start right on time. We're fine. Now, let's make a quick stop at the convenience store so I can get a banana milk, pretty please~" you added with a hint of irresistible charm. The two boys, who had been lounging on the couch, rose from their seats with mock exasperation. Jake couldn't help but mutter a resigned, "Yes, ma'am…" as you playfully led the way, heading into the car where you sat in the backseat.

With a refreshing banana milk tucked safely in your purse, courtesy of Jake's wallet, the three of you arrived at the underground racing event. The venue was located beneath a highway bridge in an area you never even knew existed. you were struck by the sheer scale of the place, surrounded by towering structures that seemed to stretch to the heavens. This perspective, seeing the world from a unique angle, made you feel small in the grand scheme of things, a humbling realization that added to the aura of the night. Lost in your contemplation, you were momentarily unaware that Jay and Jake had already exited the car, with Jake gallantly holding the door open for you. He playfully addressed you, "Here we are, princess," and you responded with a light, affectionate hit on his arm, chuckling, "Oh, cut it out, Jaeyun." A playful exchange of names ensued between the two friends as you headed toward the gathering crowd at the starting line, eagerly awaiting the start of the race. You surveyed the bikers as they lined up in their positions, and your attention was drawn to a particular rider who was surrounded by a group of enthusiastic women. The throng of admirers made it difficult to see his face clearly, but you couldn't help but wonder if it might be Heeseung.

The announcer's voice crackled over the radio, calling on the racers to mount their bikes and prepare for the thrilling competition. Jay and Jake signaled that it was time to find your seats, with Jake instinctively taking your hand to guide you and ensure you didn't get lost in the bustling crowd. As you were led to the front row, you couldn't help but scan the racers one last time. The colorful array of bikes and their determined riders filled the scene with an air of excitement. But then, at the far end, you spotted a white bike, and your heart skipped a beat. Could it be Heeseung's bike? The memories of him came rushing back, and you pointed it out to your friends. "Wait, guys, that might be Heeseung's bike," you mentioned, your voice tinged with both hope and anxiety. Jake and Jay exchanged glances, their expressions a mix of curiosity and concern. "You think so, YN?" Jay asked, offering a glimmer of doubt. "Maybe it's just a guy with the same motorcycle color as Heeseung, Ynnie. I mean, white bikes aren't that uncommon, right?" Jake reasoned, trying to provide a rational explanation. You shook your head, a familiar gesture you used to clear your thoughts. "Yeah, Jakey, you're probably right. I mean, I haven't seen him in months. It can't be him," you replied, trying to convince yourself as much as your friends. You felt a surge of anxiety but decided to push those thoughts aside and focus on enjoying the race. With the comforting presence of your banana milk, you took a sip and leaned back, hoping that this night would be an adventure to remember, regardless of the outcome.

As the man on the radio commenced announcing the racers' names, an air of anticipation enveloped the crowd. With each name called out, a symphony of revving engines filled the air, punctuated by cheers and applause from the spectators. The excitement was palpable, and you joined in, clapping and cheering for each racer. However, as the announcer neared the end of the line of racers and you waited with bated breath, you couldn't help but feel a pang of disappointment. The name you had been hoping to hear, "LEE HEESEUNG," didn't make an appearance. Instead, the announcer declared, "And last but not least, our reigning champion, ACE!" A sigh of regret escaped your lips, revealing your unspoken hope. You observed that the crowd cheered enthusiastically for this "Ace" character, understanding why he had garnered a legion of female admirers. The sense of anticipation still coursed through your veins, but you decided to put aside your initial disappointment and immerse yourself in the exhilarating atmosphere of the race, hopeful that the night would hold some surprises, even if Heeseung's name was absent from the list of competitors.

Snapping you out of your thoughts, Jake directed a question to both you and Jay, inquiring, "Who are you guys rooting for?" Jay was quick to respond, his eyes bright with enthusiasm. "I'm rooting for the guy named Jungwon on that bright blue bike. He seems like an underdog, you know?" Jake couldn't resist poking fun at Jay's choice. "So cheesy," he remarked, provoking Jay to playfully flip him off. Turning to you, Jake's curiosity was evident in his expression as he asked, "What about you, YN?" You pondered for a moment, a mischievous glint in your eye as you gave your answer. "Hmm, maybe that Sunghoon guy, on the black bike. He seems hot," you added, punctuating your response with a giggle. Jay shook his head in mock exasperation, but he couldn't hide a smile. "I'm not even surprised." As the three of you continued to chat and enjoy the electric atmosphere, the announcer's voice broke through, "RACERS, START YOUR ENGINES!" The crowd erupted into cheers, blending with the powerful roar of the motorcycles.

"READY…SET…GO!" The announcer's command was met with a symphony of revving engines, and in an instant, the racers sped off on the manmade track, weaving between the imposing pillars of the bridge above. The sound of the engines and the fervent cheers from the crowd captivated you, and your gaze remained fixed on the racers as they disappeared into the distance, the race now in full swing.

The race unfolded with an intoxicating blend of speed, skill, and sheer adrenaline. The racers zipped around the tight corners and weaved through the narrow gaps between the bridge's pillars, their powerful machines roaring like wild beasts. The air was filled with the intoxicating scent of gasoline and burnt rubber, adding to the sensory overload that engulfed the crowd. The race was paired with commentary by the announcer, “In the lead is ace! Are we surprised? That white bike is a godsend!”

As the racers maneuvered with lightning precision, the crowd couldn't help but be entranced by the sheer spectacle before them. Spectators cheered as their chosen favorites powered through the track, and collective gasps echoed through the audience whenever a close call or a daring move occurred. The atmosphere was electric, charged with the shared excitement of everyone in attendance. Another comment was made by the announcer, “Woah! Look at jungwon pulling through and passing ace on his left! Will this be the first race he wins?”

“I told you guys. Always root for the underdog,” Jay chimes, but your eyes are glued to sunghoon and his black bike.

Amidst the collective fervor, you found yourself mesmerized, your eyes locked onto the racers as they sped past. The world outside the race ceased to exist for those moments, and you were drawn into the raw energy of the event, feeling the vibrations of the engines in your chest and the rush of the wind in your hair. “Here come’s sunghoon! Passing jungwon on his right, and making his way towards the finish line!” Says the announcer.

The announcer's voice crackled through the speakers, adding to the electrifying atmosphere. "WOAH, WOAH!! HERE COMES ACE RIGHT BEHIND SUNGHOON! WHO WILL WIN? THE TWO ARE SIDE BY SIDE, WILL IT BE A TIE? THE FINISH LINE IS RIGHT THERE, AND… ALMOST A PHOTO FINISH! BUT THE WINNER OF THE RACE IS SUNGHOON!"

As the crowd erupted in joyous celebration, the cheers of the spectators seemed to reverberate in perfect harmony with the racing engines. You were swept up in the excitement, joining the chorus of voices, and even rising to your feet as you cheered for Sunghoon, the victor of the race. The thrill of witnessing such a close contest was invigorating, and you couldn't help but be caught up in the jubilation around you. With a playful tone and a hint of what-ifs, you turned to your two friends and exclaimed, "Damn, we should've bet on it. Missed opportunity!" The boys laughed along with you, the infectious joy of the moment drawing them into the celebration. Together, you stood and cheered for Sunghoon, basking in the shared experience of witnessing an extraordinary race and its exhilarating conclusion.

The exhilarating atmosphere of the race drew you, Jay, and Jake, along with the rest of the crowd, to approach the racers as they dismounted their bikes. The audience showered the racers with an array of cheers and encouraging words, from "good job!" to "you'll win next time!" to admiring comments about their impressive machines. As you and your friends navigated your way through the dispersing crowd, you found yourselves face to face with Jungwon, the racer who had been your friend Jay's underdog favorite. Eager to express your admiration, you initiated the conversation, addressing him with warmth, "Hey, Jungwon, right? You were so cool! I thought you were gonna win for a second there!" Jungwon's face lit up with gratitude, and he replied with a sincere smile, "Thank you so much! I thought so too, but I had nooo chance against Ace and Sunghoon." Jay, ever the enthusiast, extended a firm handshake in that classic man-to-man fashion. "Bro! I was rooting for you from the start. You'll see me at the next race," he proclaimed with enthusiasm, earning a "thank you" from Jungwon. With that, the three of you moved on to the next racer, Sunghoon, eager to share your appreciation with the winner.

Sunghoon leaned casually on his sleek black bike, a striking figure with an air of confidence that immediately caught your attention. Up close, you couldn't deny how incredibly handsome he looked, and you were taken aback by his allure. Summoning your courage, you approached the winner, introducing yourself in a soft, friendly tone, "Hi Sunghoon, I'm YN. Congrats on the win, handsome." The compliment had its intended effect, and Sunghoon's eyes focused on you. "Well, hello, Miss YN. Nice to meet you," Sunghoon responded with a smirk, revealing a sharp canine tooth and a dimple that sent a shiver down your spine. You felt yourself blushing in response to his charm. Sunghoon's flirtatious banter continued as he inquired, "You were rooting for me, pretty girl?" He leaned in a little closer, his voice dripping with playful seduction. You met his flirtatious challenge with a sly smile. "Maybe… maybe not," you replied, adding a teasing playfulness to your tone. He feigned disappointment, a twinkle in his eye as he teased, "What a shame, I was gonna offer you a ride." Playing along, you flirtatiously touched his arm, your confidence growing with every word. "Oh, come on, Hoonie, of course I was rooting for you," you confessed with a playful eye roll, a mischievous gleam in your eyes. Sunghoon rewarded your playful admission by tucking a stray strand of hair behind your ear, and for that moment, the world seemed to narrow down to the two of you, engaged in a playful dance of flirtation amidst the post-race excitement. The nickname you garnered for him was definitely working in your favor.

You were so deeply engrossed in your conversation with Sunghoon that you remained oblivious to the intense gaze fixed upon you from the second-place racer, Ace. He watched you with something akin to jealousy, uncertain whether he should approach. Leaving you and Sunghoon in your own world, Jay and Jake made their way over to Ace to offer their congratulations. Jake, always one for humor, attempted to lighten the mood with a lighthearted comment. "Hey, man! You were so cool out there. Second place is still good. Don't be discouraged. I'm sure all these girls still want you," he quipped, though he hadn't realized that Ace's attention was on him. Ace's initial jealousy quickly transformed into a friendly demeanor as he responded, "Yo, thanks for that, haha. Almost won, but I'll win the next one for sure." Jay chimed in with an encouraging pat on Ace's shoulder before the two of them began to walk away. However, Ace couldn’t keep it to himself. He called out to Jay and Jake, nodding in your direction while still engaged in conversation with Sunghoon. "Hey, do you know that girl?" he inquired, his interest piqued. Jay answered without hesitation, a friendly tone in his voice as he looked back toward Ace. "Yeah, that’s yn! We're friends. She came here with us," he explained, his focus now shifting as he moved away from the racer, joining Jake in heading back in your direction, leaving Ace with his thoughts as you continued your conversation with Sunghoon.

As the evening wound down and Jay and Jake were ready to head home, you and Sunghoon decided to exchange numbers, creating a playful connection. Sunghoon, with a charming wink, remarked, "Call me when you wanna ride, beautiful." Your response was just as flirty, "I'll call you when I want to, Hoonie," and you playfully blew him a kiss. As you began to walk away, ready to rejoin your friends in the car, Sunghoon made his way over to Ace, eager to share his little victory. "Bro, I just got the hottest girl's number, and—" Sunghoon began, but before he could finish, Ace roared away on his bike, his jealousy simmering beneath the surface. With your two friends already in the car, you confidently made your way toward them, your spirits high. For that moment, Heeseung had slipped from your thoughts, and the excitement of connecting with Sunghoon filled your mind. However, just as you were about ten feet away from Jay's car, a white motorcycle suddenly cut in front of you, blocking your path to your friends. Startled, you took a step back, your heart racing, and realized that the rider was one of the racers. You cautiously addressed him, "Oh, Jesus Christ, you scared me. Ace, right?" His helmet obscured his face as he nodded, and he proceeded to take it off, revealing his identity.

Your heart sank as the white helmet came off, revealing the vibrant purple hair that had grown longer since you last saw him. The shock washed over you like a tidal wave, and your eyes scanned his familiar face, unable to believe that he was standing there before you, just as he had been months ago. His eyes, large and twinkling, bore into yours, the same way they had done when you first met. "H-Heeseung?" was all you could manage to stammer. The excitement you had felt only moments ago had evaporated, replaced by a rush of tears welling up in your eyes. Every emotion you had held back for months now poured out, glistening like rivers of glittering light. The overwhelming flood of feelings left you lost and unsure of how to proceed. Heeseung spoke, his voice breaking the silence, "Yn, I missed you pretty girl.” But you couldn't handle it. The anger and sadness mixed inside you, driving you to act on impulse. "I can't do this right now, Heeseung. I-I gotta go," you uttered, your voice quivering with raw emotion. You turned and ran towards Jay's car, where the two boys had witnessed the entire interaction. Climbing into the vehicle, you were met with a barrage of concerning questions from your friends. "I'll answer once you start driving. Please. Please start driving," you implored. Jay promptly obeyed your request and sped out of the lot, the car now on the road, the boys eager to ask their questions.

Jake spoke up first, his voice tinged with disbelief, "Yn, who was that?" "Heeseung…" you replied, your voice quivering. "Oh my god, what?!" Jake exclaimed. "Heeseung? Like in, Heeseung Heeseung?" Jay asked, his surprise mirroring Jake's. "Yes, Jay. Heeseung Heeseung. Oh my god, what was he doing there?" you lamented, your words spilling out in a mixture of confusion and emotion. "Wait, isn't this what you wanted, Yn? Why are you so upset?" Jake inquired, trying to make sense of your reaction. You paused, a heavy sigh escaping your lips before you responded, "…because… where has he been? I've spent months, nearly half a year wondering when he'd show up—waiting for him like some lost puppy. And now all of a sudden, I see him today, surrounded by a crowd of girls, only talking to me because I was hitting it off with Sunghoon? I just… I just don't know what's going on. And just now, he says he missed me? Bullshit. Absolute bullshit. He knows where I live; if he missed me so much, he would've visited. I waited months, guys. MONTHS. I just… I'm so—" Jay cut off your rambling rant, his voice filled with understanding and empathy. "Yn, my love, it's okay. Let's get you that burger." In your teary, emotional state, you couldn't help but let out a faint laugh, appreciating Jay's attempt to lighten the mood. Jake reached his hand to the backseat to comfort you, and you clung to it as he gently rubbed circles into your hand. As you sat there, feeling a whirlwind of emotions and confusion, you were grateful that your friends were by your side, offering their support and understanding in your time of need.

With the comforting presence of your friends and the burger in your stomach, you finally arrived home. Jay and Jake had offered to spend the night with you, but you assured them that you appreciated their support but wanted some time alone with your thoughts. Feeling too drained to remove your makeup and outfit, you flopped onto your couch, face-first, and screamed into a throw pillow. The weight of the day and the unexpected encounter with Heeseung left your mind in a tumultuous state. As you lay there, lost in your thoughts, exhaustion overcame you, and you drifted into an uneasy slumber. Some odd hours later, you were startled awake by a persistent knocking on your door. At first, you attempted to ignore it, hoping the person would go away, but the knocking persisted. Reluctantly, you dragged yourself up and went to inspect the door through the peephole. What you saw on the other side took your breath away: a head of purple hair, Heeseung, standing at your doorstep.

Anger surged through your body as you swung the door open, and a torrent of questions spilled from your lips, "What do you want? Why are you here? Why did it take you so long to see me?" The frustration that had been simmering inside you for months finally found its voice, and it was directed squarely at the person who could provide answers. Heeseung began to speak, attempting to explain himself, but you couldn't bear to let him finish. The words tumbled out of you, fueled by the emotions that had been building up over time. "No, Heeseung. Do you know how long I've been waiting for you? How much I wished every motorcycle that passed me on the street was you? I've been so…" The emotional dam broke, and tears cascaded down your cheeks as your voice quivered with pent-up pain and frustration. Heeseung, rather than offering words, brought you into a gentle embrace, his strong arms wrapping around you, and his hand softly patting your head. His voice was a soothing whisper in your ear, "Shh, shh… I'm here now, pretty girl. I'm here. I'm sorry." His comforting presence and reassuring touch allowed you to release your bottled-up emotions. You allowed yourself to cry in his arms, feeling a mixture of anger, relief, and longing all at once. Despite your anger at him in this moment, you couldn't deny that his embrace was warm and welcoming, and it offered a sense of solace that you hadn't realized you had been yearning for.

You and heeseung were now sitting on the couch, cuddling in the darkness of your living room. You decide to break the silence, “Can we talk now, hee?” He begins to play with your hair, offering you a quiet hum in response. “Where have you been? Why haven’t you visited me?” You ask the questions that plagued your mind the most. "Yn, I'm truly sorry for disappearing like that. I had my reasons, but I understand how much it hurt you. I needed some time to sort things out in my life. It's not an excuse, but I want you to know that I've missed you every day, and I regret not being there for you. I'm here now, and I want to make it right, if you'll have me" he answers. “How do I know you’re telling the truth, heeseung? I mean, the first time I saw you today, you were surrounded by all these girls, and how do I know you won’t leave again?” You ask. "I understand your doubts, baby, and I don't blame you for being cautious. The girls today were just fans, and I was trying to keep a low profile. I promise you, I won't disappear again. I want to make it up to you and prove that I'm committed to being in your life. Actions speak louder than words, and I'm willing to show you through my actions that you can trust me." You let out a quiet sigh, “I want to trust you heeseung, I really do. But Im so scared of getting hurt again. Why did you decide to help me out that one day? The day we met? Do you do that to other girls? "I completely understand your fear, Yn. I helped you that day because you seemed like someone genuinely in need, and I felt a connection with you from the start. I don't do that for other girls; our meeting was special and unique. I can't promise you won't ever get hurt, but I can promise that I'll do my best to be there for you and be honest with you. I want to make things right between us. Seriously, my pretty girl” heeseung claims, shifting his body so you guys are face to face now.

As Yn looked into Heeseung's eyes, she saw a sincerity she hadn't seen in a long time. Her heart was still cautious, but the warmth of his embrace had melted some of the ice around it. "Let's take it one step at a time, my “love Heeseung said gently. "I won't rush you, and I'll do my best to earn your trust. We can figure this out together, princess.” Yn nodded, a small smile tugging at the corners of her lips. She was unsure of what the future held, but for the first time in months, she felt a glimmer of hope. As the night continued, they talked, laughed, and shared stories. Yn realized that Heeseung had changed, and maybe she had too. They both had scars, but perhaps together, they could heal. The story of Yn and Heeseung wasn't over; it was just beginning. And for the first time in a long time, they both felt like they were exactly where they were supposed to be.

“Lee Heeseung, if you disappear on me again, I swear to god. Don’t forget I still have sunghoon’s number!” You playfully hit Heeseung. “Okay, okay! Message received ma’am! Now I have a question.” You respond with a hum. “Now who was that boy holding your hand earlier? At the race? Hm?” You laugh and respond teasingly, “Baby, that’s Jake. You really don’t have to worry about him. He’s like my little puppy!”

“My love, you do realize how wrong that sounds?” Heeseung laughs.

© luvrseung - do not plagiarize, repost, translate, copy, or alter any of my content please and thank you.

[eliciana]

Reverse SAGAU: The Weird Door At My Café

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Hello everyone, pls don't expect much from this chapter,which is going to be part of a series, will be that good. I may have grammatical errors and wrong spellings so please don't hesitate to tell me in the comments about it. English is not my main language. Also, I write some very descriptive and long scenes about what the reader does because i got used to writing descriptive essays so please bear with the long paragraphs and sentences. Thank you.

And yes, I'm back. Also the Misunderstanding series will be updated after my exams this is just in my drafts and I wanted to just upload it.

-Eli

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Tw: Reverse!Isekai!Sagau, Normal Au, Café Au, a bit of cussing like this bit 🤏.

Reader: Gn!Reader, Adult!Reader, Café Owner!Reader

Characters: Reader

Note: Restaurant to Another World animanga inspired au. You can slide into my dms (😝 im joking bro) if you ever want to be tagged in my works just tell me what series you want to be tagged in or all of them. thank you <3.

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You close your eyes and think back to that very fateful day — the day that entirely altered your life's course and shatter any semblance of normalcy you once knew. The memory is etched in your mind, clear and vivid. The secret your café had.

You had always dreamed of owning your very own café when you get older. It had always consumed your thoughts and fueled your ambitions. Doing everything you can to be able to make your dream come true. It was a dream that guided you through your highs and lows, the setbacks and triumphs, and now, your very own cafe is now right infront of your eyes. You stand awe, gazing upon your newly built dream café that represents your years of hard work and dedication. It almost feels surreal. The weight of such an accomplishment settles in your shoulders, filling with a sense of pride that it threatens to burst out of your chest.

The obstacles and challenges you faced along the way have not gone unnoticed. The countless hours of planning, the sacrifices made, the hurdles overcome—each scar and battle wound a testament to your unwavering determination. They have shaped you into the person you are today, a person who is standing on the precipice of their own extraordinary creation. In this moment, you can't help but reflect on how far you have come. You just want to curl up into a ball and cry for how proud you are for yourself.

As you approach the door to your café, your hand trembles with anticipation. You grasp the smooth handle, feeling the coolness of the metal against your palm, and slowly turn it. The door swung open, emitting a soft creak that pierced the silence. Above it, a small, quaint bell dangled delicately, waiting to be disturbed. The cascade of delicate notes wove together seamlessly, announcing your presence, like a whispered greeting to anyone who would listen.

You stare in awe and wonder at the interior design of your cafe , captivated by it's beauty. The space exceeds your imagination and sketches, each detail meticulously brought to life. You explore every corner, your eyes eager to take in every detail. The plants you selected with great care breathe life into the space, their vibrant green leaves adding a touch of freshness and enhancing the cozy, warm aura you envisioned. Sunlight steams through the windows, casting a golden glow that illuminates upon your carefully handpicked furniture, adding a touch of charm. Every detail, from the placement of tables and chairs to the color palette and textures and to the shelf placed at the wall behind the counter with small sized standees of genshin impact, comes together harmoniously, painting a reality that is more beautiful than it was in your imagination.

You took one last look at your own café, only to catch sight of a door that had seemingly materialized out of thin air. It wasn't in your sketches, nor was it part of the layout you had memorized. How could something so out of place suddenly appear in your beloved café? How weird. You were sure that when you went inside this café it was never there. It was on the opposite side of the front entrance door of your café. It had a very different kind of design from the doors you had. How weird . Were you perhaps hallucinating? Was your stress and sleep deprivation finally getting to you? You resort to pinching and slapping your cheeks in an attempt to jolt yourself back to reality. Nope. You can still see it. You rushed to go outside of your café. As you step out into the open, your eyes scanning the exterior, you're met with a surprising revelation—the door you saw inside your café is nowhere to be found. It's as if it had vanished into thin air, leaving you bewildered and questioning your senses.

Nonetheless, you breathed a heavy sigh of relief and once again went inside of your café, blaming your hallucination to your stress. However, as your eyes scanned the interior again, you saw the door still there.

'Oh, hell no.' You thought and quickly opened the front door again, took a look at the exterior, look at the door inside, and continued doing that action for a minute. Yup, you're officialy hallucinating.

You looked at the strange door and felt a nagging feeling of curiousity wanting to try and open that door. Maybe it was actually a big ass sticker that one of the builders placed as a prank. You never know. Steeling yourself, you went closer to the door on your tippy toes. Carefully trying to be quiet. Why? You don't know. You just knew you had to. Maybe it was an instinct of yours. You were now infront of the door and you tried reaching for the door knob still thinking it was a sticker but the coolness feeling in your hands said uno reverse. You abruptly took back your hand in shock. You stared down at the atrocity in front of you. You quickly raised your foot and took off your shoes/heel/slipper and held onto it tightly. Preparing yourself to open the door, you took in a deep breath and reached for the door knob once more. Twisting it open, a ray of sunlight shone through the small crack as you pushed the door open gently.

Your eyes widen at the sight infront of you as you had fully opened the door. The grip your hand had on your lethal weapon widened and it slipped from your hands. The sight infront of you was so surreal. 'This can't be true, right?' your head was going to so many places, unable to comprehend what was going on. You felt kinda dizzy.

You would be a fool not to recognize this place that you had seen so many times throughout your life. A few kilometers infront of you was the City of Mondstadt in view. You could even see the knights guarding the gate and Timmie with his pigeons at the bridge.

The weird door from your cafe was actually a door to the Genshin Impact world. Wow... wtf.

____________________________________

also pls take a look at my poorly drawn drawing of what your view looks like cause for the love of god I can't seem to explain it:

Also you're in a cliff or something. so yeah

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[arcielee]

To feel the rare before and after.

photo by @kyloremus

Paring: modern Aemond Targaryen x Female!Reader Word Count: 1.1k+ Warnings: Reader AFAB, just some smutty smut, overstimulation, p in v unprotected, some spit play? pwp if you squint Author's Note: This is a repost! I read over the original and wanted to clean it up for Valentine's Day. This was a birthday gift for the wonderful and talented @annikin-im-panicin, I love you so much. I wish I could give you the world, but all I have is 1k+ words of smut with modern!Aemond, your other silver haired boy with trauma. 💜

You loved the feeling of his arms as they wrapped around your waist, pulling you to straddle his lap. “One more for me, pretty girl,” and your skin raised with his breathless command that was whispered into the curve of your neck, his lips feathering your pulse.

His large hands roamed your curves before settling on the softness of your hips with a firm hold that dimpled into your skin. Aemond shifted beneath you, careful as he lined himself with your entrance once again. You sighed as he lifted his hips, simultaneously lowering you as he slowly sheathed his length into your velvet walls with a delicious stretch still.

You could only whine in response, your mind too clouded to create a coherent thought. Your hold around his neck tightened, pulling your body flushed against his chest as he continued his slow pace that bruised your sweet spot deep within. Each thrust caused stars to burst in front of your eyes, your body already blossomed from your prior releases: the sheen of sweat mixing with the slick between your thighs, a rose bloom that spilled from your face down to your neck and chest, your nipples pebbled with pleasure from his relentless rhythm.

“Aemond,” you almost cried. “I can’t…”

“You can,” he hummed, his pace unfaltering, his teeth now grazing the junction of your neck to your shoulder.

You shuddered in response; in truth, it was already curling again at the base of your spine, his thrusts rekindling that delicious coil knotting in your lower abdomen, bringing that fluttering pleasure that came in sync with his hips. You were breathless, relaxing your grasp around his neck and falling back to place your hands on his knees to keep yourself upright.

He was seated at the edge of the bed, pinned by your plush thighs, and his feet firmly planted on the floor. Aemond moved to wrap one arm around your waist to hold you while his other hand pressed inside your thigh, his thumb following the patch of curls and finding your pearl with his familiar touch.

You were already raw, tender, and coming to the precipice of over-stimulation when his deliberate touch pulled your euphoria from you. It was a sobbed release, his added ministrations elongating it in a way that was painful but delicious.

Aemond then pulled you closer, groaning into your neck as your cunt clenched with your climax, his husky tone whispering praises against your skin—good girl. You melted against him, the sticky sweet touch of skin-to-skin, and you sighed sweetly when his hold around your waist tightened, pulling you closer still.

You squeaked your surprise when he then pushed to stand, your legs crossing around his slender waist and his large palms cupping where your thighs and ass met. He turned to face the bed and laid you back, allowing you to fall back against the sex soaked sheets.

You were quick to prop yourself onto your elbows, grinning, watching his silver brows knit above his bi-colored gaze that drank in your every flushed curve. You felt your blood simmering from his steady stare, and a shyness that trilled throughout.

Aemond always possessed an ethereal beauty. He towered over you, his body lithe and tone, the jut of his hips from his languid stance and the lines of his Adonis belt cutting in his trimmed hips. The hair on his chest clung from his perspiration, his silver hair hanging on his sharp features, and you could see the rose coloring that stained all of him so intimately.

He moved closer to the bed, each hand reaching to wrap around your ankles, pulling you closer towards the edge. You gasped, you giggled from the sudden pull, your ass now pressing against his thighs, and you see the hint of his own smile as he moved the soles of your feet to press against his chest.

You shivered with your anticipation as he leaned over you, a curtain of his silver hair, the soft tickle as it touched your skin; Aemond planted his arms on each side of you, caging you against the mattress. You mewled pitifully as he moved his hips, his hand wrapping around the base of his cock, the touch of his tip gliding against your silken folds before sinking into your warmth once again.

“Aemond,” you begged, you moaned, as he bottomed out, stretching you from within.

He hummed again, his way to show his satisfaction of how well you fit around his cock—something he would mention often and always. His hands now dimpled into the plush of your thighs, a bracing hold for the snap of his hips against you.

Your mouth parted with a wordless cry, your back arched against the bed. You saw through the fog the determination that lined his features, his lips pursed with his concentration.

“Touch yourself,” he rasped, his voice is low, demanding.

Your fingertips reached from his chest to his jaw, and Aemond dipped his head to take them into his mouth—the tickle of his tongue that curled around each digit before you pulled back. The spit breaks away onto his chin and your fingers then fall to touch the tendered nub of nerves above his rhythmic in-and-out, above the suction of your swollen lips and where the ring of white wrapped around his cock.

His eye was black as he watched you, enjoying the ripple of your supple curves with his each rut, the way your breasts bounce as his pace quickened. Your soft cry accompanied your soft touch, your fingers circling yourself intimately.

It came with the flash of color, your strangled cry, a release with your muscles contracting and tears spilling your cheeks. Aemond pulled back, his hand pumping himself to completion, his pearly ropes of his release decorating your chest and your stomach.

There was a pause, a deep exhale and he moved to get up, disappearing into the bathroom. You laid there, boneless, breathless, listening to the facet turn on for a moment, and then he returned with a damp washcloth that was pleasantly warm to the touch.

Aemond was thorough and he was gentle, careful to wipe you clean, admiring how the blood rose to the surface of your skin, the rise and fall of your breasts as you steadied your breath. He then tossed it into the hamper, crawling beneath the covers and pulling you to follow, until your backside was tucked against his chest, his arm curled around the softness of your stomach.

He nuzzled into your neck with a soft kiss behind your ear as his whispered, “Happy birthday, pretty girl.”

Tags [Tumblr kindred spirits]: @aaaaaamond @watercolorskyy @fan-goddess @httpsdoll @theromanticegoist @assortedseaglass @theoneeyedprince @babyblue711 @itbmojojoejo @girlwith-thepearlearring @theobjectofyourire @troublesomesnitch @multyfangirl @officerbrowneyes @qyburnsghost @hb8301 @darylandbethfanforever9 @namelesslosers

arcie's masterlist

[mononijikayu]

malmö i mitt hjärta ━ nanami kento.

But amid the sterile bleakness, a beacon awaited. Someone was there for him, a comforting presence that contradicted the harsh realities of the hospital room. The warmth of her memory, a stark contrast to the clinical surroundings, lingered in his mind like a gentle embrace. As his senses gradually acclimated to the reality surrounding him, he became aware of the cool caress of pristine white sheets against his skin. The distant symphony of medical equipment, each beep and hum, served as a poignant testament to his unexpected survival. Yes, he was alive.

GENRE: Alternate Universe - Canon Convergence;

WARNING/s: Gen, Romance, Friends to Lovers, Husband and Wife, Friendship, Husband! Nanami, Reader! Wife, Fluff, Drama, Comfort, Falling In Love, Flirting, Fix-It, Humor, Domesticity, Family Life, Hurt/Comfort, Angst, Idiots In Love, Light-Hearted, Slice of Life, Pining, Nanami Being A Great Husband;

WORDS: 5k words.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: kinda perfect to put this out, considering i was fuming last night that mei mei was in malaysia and not nanami. GEGE WHEN I CATCH YOU GEGE??? im not sure if i'll write more about nanami and his wife, but im thinking on it. if you have any thing you wanna see from their life, just come on and tell me as suggestions!!!

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hesitate | malmö i mitt hjärta

next: what are you doing new year's eve

HE DID NOT REMEMBER WHAT HAPPENED AFTER THE BURST OF WHITE LIGHT ECHOED ALL AROUND HIM. Nanami Kento found himself in a disorienting haze, the aftermath of the blinding white light that had enveloped him. The memories of what had transpired were elusive, slipping away like grains of sand in the wind. Bleeding and broken, he stood amidst the chaos, wearied not only by the physical toll but also by the relentless violence that surrounded him.

Shibuya had proven to be a formidable battleground, surpassing even the expectations set by reports. Nanami, however, hadn't anticipated the extent of the exhaustion he would feel. The weariness ran deep, etched in the scarlet lines that adorned his wounded flesh, almost resembling weary tears.

As he stood at the precipice of what seemed like the end, he could envision the face of Yu Haibara, a nostalgic smile etched across the features of his youth. There he stood, eyeing Nanami with all the kindness he doesn't deserve. It was as if Death itself was extending an invitation to the solace Nanami had long sought, a respite from the unending cycle of struggle that seemed inescapable.

Yet before he knew it, it was as though he was never there.

Haibara smiled, standing before Mikoto Nobuhiko.

Nanami realized that they switched positions. From where he stood before, he could catch the glimpse of Nobuhiko's orbs glisten in crystal tears. He tried to scream, he remembers he could. But Itadori Yuuji did it for the both of them, crying out Nobuhiko's name.

He didn't know if he cried or not.

He doesn't remember that much.

But he knew that the blue summer ended forever.

Nanami Kento had lost himself in fleeting delusions.

In those fleeting moments, Nanami's mind drifted to the simple joys that made life worth living. The vivid beauty of a Malaysian morning, the tropical sun's warmth on his skin, the gentle winds accompanying moments of quiet reading against a backdrop of serene resignation, and the comforting aroma of green tea in the familiarity of his home.

The mental images continued to unfold, walking hand in hand with a cherished person, the resonance of their rings echoing like a soft bell, proclaiming a love that belonged exclusively to them. Her gaze, filled with the profound echoes of a love uniquely theirs, lingered in his mind as he faced Death head-on.

Her face, where her warm smile was tender for him.

The scarlet sunset etched all over her cheeks.

The bright beam of love in those eyes for him.

He held on to life, wanting to see her again.

As the intense beam of light faded, Nanami Kento found himself grappling with the harsh reality of his surroundings. The once vibrant scenes of his memories were replaced by sterile white ceilings, devoid of the vitality he had just envisioned. His lips, now forming a flat line, mirrored his uncertainty about this unexpected twist of fate. The struggle to open his eyes wide was matched by the greater challenge of drawing breath into his lungs. Amidst the confusion, he became aware of the narrow hitches of breath escaping his lips.

As he took in the scene around him, the echoes of a flatline transitioned into the sound of morning air filling his lungs. The pain was a harsh reminder of his corporeal existence, yet the sensation of life coursing through him was undeniable. Nanami Kento found himself grappling with the juxtaposition of life and near death, a survivor in a world that seemed to have momentarily abandoned its tumultuous chaos.

The sterile hospital room resonated with the cold hum of fluorescent lights, casting a clinical glow upon the barren walls. For Nanami, it was a realm he despised, a place where discomfort and unease mingled. Despite the years spent in the ebb and flow of blood and flesh, the hospital environment remained foreign, an unwelcome terrain that clawed at the edges of his resolve.

It wasn't just the sights; it was the acrid scent that permeated the air, triggering memories of a bygone youth marked by echoes of profound loss. The antiseptic aroma, a nauseating reminder of vulnerability, threatened to unravel him. Yet, confined to his bed, there was no escape. Nanami Kento found himself ensnared in a place he had vowed never to return.

But amid the sterile bleakness, a beacon awaited. Someone was there for him, a comforting presence that contradicted the harsh realities of the hospital room. The warmth of her memory, a stark contrast to the clinical surroundings, lingered in his mind like a gentle embrace.

As his senses gradually acclimated to the reality surrounding him, he became aware of the cool caress of pristine white sheets against his skin. The distant symphony of medical equipment, each beep and hum, served as a poignant testament to his unexpected survival. Yes, he was alive.

And in that pulsating moment between life and the sterile ambiance, he found solace in the idea of returning to her. The prospect of reuniting with the vivid tapestry of their lives painted itself in his mind. Another day, another chance to age gracefully in the cocoon of her love, a promise that whispered of a tomorrow adorned with shared laughter, quiet moments, and the unspoken embrace of a love that had weathered the storm.

Nanami Kento, in that fragile instance of survival, embraced the prospect of living another day—a chance to return to the arms of the one who made life's battles worthwhile.

“Oh, you’re awake.” The words cut through the clinical ambiance, a lifeline tethering him to the present. The voice, though familiar, held a depth of mystery, and he turned his head to find those unmistakable purple orbs. There she stood, a reassuring figure, her presence a balm to his disoriented senses. “It’s quite a miracle that you’re alive, Mr. Seven — Three.”

Nanami, ever the stoic one, couldn't help but release a sound that resembled a snort. His senpai, Gojo Genmei, had picked up some of his husband's bravado over the years. In that moment, he found solace in the warmth of her company, even in the face of his physical discomfort. 

“How can it be a miracle when it was obvious you manipulated my survival, Genmei–san?”

A hearty laugh escaped Gojo Genmei as she moved away from the wall, pulling a chair with her as she settled down. “You didn’t have to say it like that, Kento–kun!”

Kento, now adjusting himself on the medical bed with a laborious effort, retorted, “You’re too much like Gojo–san. It’s giving me a headache.”

“Hm, you’re still you, alright.”

He raised a questioning brow. “What do you mean by that?”

Genmei's laughter echoed in the sterile room, a melody that cut through the clinical atmosphere. As she leaned forward, a mischievous glint sparkled in her eyes. “I mean, even on the brink of death, you're still as grumpy as ever, Kento–kun. That's how I know you're okay.”

The younger sorcerer let out a wistful sigh, his breath carrying the weight of fleeting moments and unspoken echoes. "Facing death doesn’t change me much, I suppose. I’m just... alive. I'm well enough, I can say."

“A fact I’m sure your wife will be happy about,” Genmei remarked, crossing her legs as she leaned back, the air thick with unspoken understanding. "I think any wife would be, I think."

“Hm,” he nodded in agreement, a subtle smile playing on his lips. The prospect of returning home, of going to Malaysia with his wife, lingered in his thoughts like a delicate melody. It was enough, he believed. Enough to live for, to savor in the quiet richness of shared moments. “I suppose I owe you my life.”

“You owe me nothing,” she dismissed his gratitude with a wave, a tender smile softening the contours of her face. In her warm eyes, there was a somber tenderness, an acknowledgment of the unspoken complexities that lingered between them. “Someone has to have their happy ending first. Nobu thought so too, don't you think?"

In the pause that followed, a heavy silence hung in the air, pregnant with the weight of unspoken truths. Nanami's memories of his dearest friend passed through him in the silence. It was as though those three years of youth never happened. As though they were his day dreams in his one summer day. He was the only one left, he's still breathing. Yu would forever be seventeen, as will Nobuhiko stay twenty - seven.

Genmei - senpai meant every word she uttered, a sentiment that resonated even as she wished it didn't. Perhaps if Nobuhiko would be here too, he'd say the same thing. Both of them were the same like that, almost like mother and son.

His senpai was happy for him, she always has been. She had always supported his decisions and his actions. Just as Nobuhiko did. Nanami was certain he's only alive because she knew what Nobuhiko would do for him. It was because of her that he's still alive. And yet he knew deep down, she was jealous. His senpai after all was not the god people saw her to be. She too felt humanity make her a hypocrite.

Beneath the veneer of Gojo Genmei's righteousness and kindness lay a selfish desire, a longing to cling to life just as fiercely as Nanami clung to his reasons for existence.

As much as she had risked everything for the peace of the Jujutsu and Human world, a poignant selfishness whispered in her heart. She clung to Gojo Satoru, she clung to the memory left by Nobuhiko over and over again. He could see it in her lilac eyes. She was yearning for the day when she could live without the constraints of this absence, this hole inside of her. This emptiness. She looked forward to the day when she would be free of torment.

That Nanami knew too well. And in the same breath, Nanami knew, as did she, that such freedom to her desires was not imminent. The person she held dearest, the god she worshiped, remained sealed away, and no one yet held the key to his release. This truth, unbeknownst to Nanami, lingered in the shadows of their shared existence.

"I hate how self-righteous you are," he finally uttered, a playful accusation laced with a deeper understanding of the intricacies of their intertwined fates.

In that moment, amid the fragility of survival and the weight of unsaid words, Gojo Genmei embraced the role of the patient observer, waiting for her turn to taste the sweetness of a life unburdened by the shackles of uncertainty. Genmei laughed. Nanami, in his silent acknowledgment, found solace in her kindred happiness.

“It sickens me, Genmei–san. At least be mad at me for what happened."

“Let me indulge in this mood.” She bit her cheek, her purple eyes narrowing at him. “It’s all that keeps me afloat.”

"Really...."

She smiles at him. "Why should we blame you, though? Love is a curse, but its worth dying for. So don't curse Nobuhiko like that. Besides, I doubt you wouldn't say the same thing, Mr. Seven – Three."

His lips pursed in a flat line.

He hated that she was right.

She's become more like Gojo Satoru.

“How many days have passed?” Nanami questioned her, changing the topic.

“Just a few days,” She informed him diligently, crossing her legs in the other direction. “You’ve healed quicker than Todo, I have to say. I’m impressed. With your wounds, it was expected that it would take even longer."

His mind moved towards the young ones, once she mentioned the third-year protege of Kyoto High. He moved to open his mouth, wanting to express the many worries that plagued his head at the thought of the young ones. Genmei stopped him, smiling. “You shouldn’t worry about the young ones, Kento–kun. They’re healthy, for the most part. Megumi and Yuuji are doing what they can do find the answers we need. Just trust them for now. Rest your restless heart, Kento-kun.”

Kento did not think her answer sufficed; there was too much hidden in the words said. But he knew he would not argue with her about the matter. At least not today. There would be more days to catch up, to ask his many questions.

His mind was still a blur; he still needed rest. This is enough, for now. He didn't want to carry the heavy load of all of it just yet. Nobuhiko was enough. Knowing the kids were safe. All he wanted right now, he supposed, was to see his wife. He did not want to be here. He wanted to go home. He wanted to be in his beloved's arms once again.

“You’re quite the fighter, though,” Genmei's light sandy hair shone against the beaming sun. “You responded well to the treatments, Kento–kun. It’s incredibly determined.”

He looked at his damaged arm. “Well, I can see that, seeing I’m somewhat still whole.”

“Hm, Your wife insisted,” Genmei responded to him, causing him to perk up at the mention of his wife. “She protested, how you can live with burns and scars, but not without your arm and hand. You need it, she told them. Cause you would never leave your job here. She knows that much.”

“She knows me too well, then.”

“And I know you just as well,” Genmei said, standing up as hands moved towards the inner confines of her kimono and revealing papers. She lays it before him, he looks at her suspiciously. He takes it, mustering all his strength to read it. “You need a break, Kento-kun.”

He frowns deeply, dropping the paper. His eye arrows at her with all the emotions that drowned him in turmoil. "You forced them to put me on a break? Now, when am I most needed?”

“You aren’t well just yet,” She says, her lips tightly pressed in a line. “And not for a long time, Kento-kun. You need to rest.”

“I can’t just leave now. Genmei–senpai, you just can’t—”

She shakes her head at him. He could see her eyes become fonder. He has not called her 'senpai' in a long time. “Kento–kun, you are of use to us when you’re well. You can only be well when you rest. I cannot have you risking your life like that again, Kento–kun. You are more valuable to all of us, to your wife, alive. So please, don’t fight us on this.”

For a moment, he couldn’t stare at her in the eyes. He felt like that child again, that child hiding his face, hiding the way every inch of it contorted in grief and sorrow. Hiding the way his one good eye echoed the tears that neared his face. He felt so defenseless, so raw, so open to the world that wouldn’t understand the bareness of him. She looks at him, almost guilty. But Kento knew that in her heart, she knew this was the right thing to do.

She didn’t want to see him dead. She told him then that she was glad he was not dead. How blunt she was then, telling him how glad she was that he was not Haibara. The glee she found in her heart when he told her that he would be leaving the Jujutsu world behind and starting anew. Inside her heart, Kento was a younger brother. And perhaps, it was much better for her to be hated by him, than to see him robbed from her by the cruelty of their lives.

Genmei watched him, an unspoken understanding passing between them. She walked over to the window, gazing at the city beyond as the fading sunlight painted the sky in hues of orange and pink. "Your wife," she began, her voice softer now, carrying the weight of shared burdens, "She loves you deeply, Kento–kun. She fought for you to have this break because she wants you to be whole, to be with her."

Nanami's gaze remained fixed on the papers before him, the weight of his wife's love and Genmei's concern settling in his chest. He knew the truth in those words, the depth of the sacrifice she had made for him.

"You need to rest, not just for yourself but for her too. You've been fighting for others for so long; it's time to let others fight for you," Genmei continued her eyes still on the echo of the city's skyline, now bathed in the soft glow of twilight. "Please, Kento-kun. Leave it to us. Enjoy your life for a bit."

He sighed, a mixture of resignation and gratitude. "I'll take the break," he finally conceded, realizing the truth in her words. "Just this once."

Genmei turned to face him, a small smile playing on her lips. "Good. You deserve it, Kento–kun. And when you're ready, we'll be here, waiting for you."

As she left the room, the door clicking softly behind her, Nanami's thoughts turned to the papers on the bed. They were a ticket to rest, a journey into the unfamiliar territory of self-care and healing. The room, once a battleground of conflicting emotions, now held the promise of renewal.

With a weary yet determined sigh, Nanami Kento allowed himself to succumb to the quiet solitude of rest, knowing that beyond the confines of the hospital walls, a world awaited where the echoes of Shibuya would gradually fade, and the whispers of a new beginning would take root.

AND SO, HE SAT THERE FOR A WHILE STARING AT THE CLOUDS PASS BY. The sterile hospital room, a cold oasis of white, seemed to echo with the whispered words of Gojo Genmei as she left. Nanami Kento left alone in the quiet aftermath of their conversation, found himself wrestling with an unsatisfied restlessness. The very notion of being told to rest felt like a cage, confining him in a realm of inactivity that clashed with the echoes of Shibuya still reverberating in his mind.

He shifted uncomfortably on the hospital bed, the crisp white sheets clinging to the contours of his tired form. The room, bathed in the sterile glow of fluorescent lights, felt oppressive. Nanami's gaze wandered to the window, where the outside world beckoned, tantalizingly close yet out of reach.

The very air seemed to carry the weight of unspoken promises, of a life beyond hospital walls. Kento had called for food to be brought to his room, now that he was awake. He’s quite weary, much to the conversation in itself. The medicines he was forced to take into his body made it even worse. But he needed to sustain himself, he needed to make a moderate effort at least.

‘How am I supposed to return to normal if I don’t push myself to?’ He scolds himself in the quiet of his somber room. ‘I have to do it, I have to do it.’

Just as the specter of discontent began to settle, a soft voice invaded the sterile silence in his head. The words of parting dwelled in his mind like a broken record.  

‘Enjoy Malaysia, Kento–kun. The trip will make you strong, I’m sure, hm? Just take all the time you need! Bring a souvenir, Satoru would adore it by the time he sees it!'

The voice of Gojo Genmei had always made a mark whenever she spoke, her presence a fleeting memory that lingered in the room. She had left, but her words hovered in the air like a gentle melody, a reminder of the promises yet to unfold. She had reassured him that all would be well. He had to put his faith in her, in all his comrades. In Gojo Satoru. He had to think that they’d do well.

That they can carry on while he is gone. He did his best, to collect himself but he could not help it, feel the things he did. Nanami, still restless, couldn't help but dwell on the words. He couldn’t deny that she made a good point. He agrees with her. His life as a sorcerer was always bound to be short, bound to danger. He had to make the best of it. He needs to make it all worth it. Now more than ever.

Time passed in measured increments, the rhythm of the hospital machinery punctuating the silence. It was in this liminal space that the door creaked open, allowing a sliver of anticipation to seep in. The food was finally brought by the nurse. The nurse was an elderly woman, and she seemed to fawn over him as though he was a child. She told him to press the button by his bed if he needed anything or if he wanted more food. Nanami Kento was certainly overwhelmed by her energy, he had used all his energy talking to Genmei before.

But he merely nodded his head and thanked her for her help and the meal. Nanami didn’t find the taste to his liking, and in all honesty, he’s never liked the food at hospital canteens either. But he was not one to turn down food when he needed it. He’s not ungrateful. And so he ate and he ate, listening to the music on the radio, the disco jockey announcing the next song. It was his favorite by far, Saboten Record, by his favorite band Fujifabric.

It had been quite a while since Kento had heard the song. The last time he did was when he and his wife danced to it in the narrow space of their kitchen, laughing as they spun playfully against the beckoning edges of mahogany counters and marble tops. The night had been a spectacle, a happier time which gave him strength. For a moment he started to hum, the fondness of his heart following along to the echo of the rhythm.

Then, just as she had entered into his life, his dearly beloved wife, a vision of quiet strength and warmth, entered the room with all the vibrant color and exquisite wonder that she had brought with her.

Her eyes widened in surprise at the sight of Nanami, awake and grappling with the confines of the hospital bed. Her eyes were red, one could expect that from the tears she must have cried from worry. The room seemed to brighten like it was spring all over again as her gaze locked onto him, and in that instant, the stark walls became a canvas for the emotions playing out before her. Life made sense again, purpose existed again. The meaning of life blossomed in front of him, still from shock.

"Kento!" Her voice, a symphony of relief and joy, carried across the room. Tears glistened in her eyes, mirroring the overwhelming surge of emotions. She rushed to his side, the clatter of her footsteps echoing in the otherwise hushed room.

Nanami Kento, in turn, watched her approach, a myriad of emotions flickering in his eyes. Her presence was a balm, a reminder that he had weathered the storm and emerged on the other side. As she reached his bedside, the floodgates of her emotions opened, and tears streamed down her cheeks. She was still in the cycle of disbelief, the realm of joyous hope stuck in the motion of where her happiness began.

She kisses his scars, his burnt fingers, and hands. She could touch him, she could hold him. He was here. He was breathing, living. He was with her. She embraced him as though he would disappear if she didn’t hold onto him as tightly as she could. Not even the bundle of tears flowing from her face could stop her.

She was grateful, to any god out there, to anyone who listened to her prayers, that she had him in her arms. She had her love, the love that was made out of the wonder of this man, return to her. Alive and well, warm with everything that encompasses the beauty of life.

"I'm so happy you're alive," she whispered, her voice choked with a mix of gratitude and disbelief. All the love in her words, in her tone, brought him back to life. “You came back, you returned to me.”

He reached out to touch her cheek, his fingers gentle against the warmth of her skin. "I'm alright," he assured her, his voice a soothing murmur. "I'll never leave. I promised that to you, didn’t I, min skat?”

She leaned into his touch, her tears mingling with the warmth of his palm. "We're going to Malaysia, Kento. Together. I’m never letting you go, mit hjerte. You promised me. We’re going to live happily, Kento."

A soft smile played on his lips, a promise reflected in the depths of his gaze. "Yes, we will. I promised you, min skat. We’ll be together until we’re old and grey.”

The hospital room, once a sterile chamber of uncertainty, seemed to undergo a miraculous metamorphosis as Nanami Kento's beloved wife entered. The harsh, clinical glow of fluorescent lights softened, casting a warm, golden hue that embraced the room's confines. The air, once stagnant with the scent of antiseptic, now carried the subtle fragrance of hope and revival.

Nanami, despite his weariness, felt a surge of vitality as his wife crossed the threshold. The room itself seemed to respond, shedding its clinical demeanor in favor of a gentler, more welcoming ambiance. The crisp white sheets on the hospital bed, though still meticulously arranged, appeared softer, and inviting. They cradled him with a newfound tenderness as if conspiring with the universe to provide solace to a weary soul.

As she approached, the echo of her footsteps against the linoleum floor resonated like a reassuring heartbeat, harmonizing with the subdued hum of medical equipment. The door creaked open and closed, a gentle symphony, orchestrating the entrance of love into a space that had witnessed pain and healing in equal measure.

Her eyes, shimmering with tears yet ablaze with an unmistakable joy, met his with an intensity that breathed life into the room. The stark walls, once indifferent observers, became witnesses to the sacred dance of their reunion. The very essence of their connection infused the air, transforming the room into a haven where the boundaries of time and space seemed to blur.

In that quiet moment, their words became more than utterances; they were a melody, a soft cadence that reverberated with the depth of shared vows. The room, once void of emotion, now pulsed with the palpable warmth of love rediscovered. Dialogues danced between them like ethereal waltzes, each word a step in a choreography of reassurances and promises that only they could understand.

The hospital bed, a utilitarian piece of furniture, became a sanctuary where the contours of their bodies aligned with a perfect, unspoken understanding. The sheets, once merely functional, cradled them in an embrace that transcended the physical, a cocoon of shared experiences and the promise of a future yet to unfold.

As she leaned in, her lips pressed against the scars and burns on his fingers and hands, the room held its breath, as if granting this tender moment the reverence it deserved. She enveloped him in an embrace that felt like a gentle breeze, carrying away the residual echoes of pain and fear. The atmosphere crackled with the electricity of their shared relief, the acknowledgment that they had weathered the storm together.

Her whispered words, "I'm so happy you're alive," painted the room in hues of gratitude and disbelief. Each syllable, a brushstroke, adorned the walls with the colors of love's rekindled flame. The hospital room, once a backdrop to uncertainty, now stood as a testament to the resilience of the human spirit and the enduring power of connection.

Nanami, in response, extended his hand to gently cup her tear-streaked cheek. His touch, a caress against the canvas of her skin, carried a promise.

"I'm alright," he assured her, his voice a soothing murmur that resonated with the strength of shared trials. "I'll never leave. I promised that to you, didn’t I, min skat?”

In this delicate exchange, the room bore witness to a pledge that transcended the physical confines of its walls. The hospital, once a realm of sterile uncertainties, had now become a sanctuary where the beauty of life's fragile yet enduring moments unfolded, leaving an indelible imprint on the very fabric of their shared existence.

"I was so scared, Kento. When they told me what happened..." Her voice trembled, a delicate timbre of vulnerability, the remnants of fear still haunting her. 

It made his heart ache, a heavy throb echoing through his chest, as he watched the flickering emotions dance in the depths of her eyes. She suffered because of him, and the weight of that realization settled in his soul like a stone. But she understood, as she always did. She understood the essence of him, the intricate dance between duty and the echo of his existence.

The Jujutsu world was as much him as it was the reflection of him, a reality he couldn't fully escape. Yet, despite the peril that clung to his every step, she embraced him. She embraced his flaws, his scars, and the unspoken challenges that defined his very being. 

“I’m glad that you’re here with me, Kento.”

He squeezed her hand, fingers intertwining in a silent communion of shared strength. The touch was a testament to the unspoken bond, a lifeline tethering them to the realm of the living. "I'm here now. We're here."

Her laughter, a delicate melody, bubbled forth like a spring of relief. Each note carried the weight of a thousand worries released, a cascade of sound that filled the room with an ethereal lightness. "This is enough, being with you. I could ask for nothing more. But this moment. You and me. Here."

He chuckled, the resonance vibrating through the air, a deep and comforting sound that echoed in the corners of the room. "It's more than enough for me too."

She enveloped him in her arms, a tender sanctuary where love and survival intertwined in an intricate dance. The hospital bed, once a sterile canvas of clinical white, transformed into a haven where the essence of their shared existence blossomed. Their whispered promises exchanged in the quiet sanctuary of their moments painted the room in hues of contentment.

Each word was a stroke of color, a brush dipped in the palette of their love, transforming the backdrop of sterile walls and clinical lights into a canvas adorned with the vibrant tapestry of life rekindled.

As she nestled into the curve of his embrace, Nanami whispered, his voice a soft breeze in the tranquil space, "You are in my heart, only you."

A joyous smile glistened to him. “You are too, Kento. You are my heart. My everything.”

Her eyes, still glistening with tears, met his, and in that shared gaze, they found the promise of a tomorrow unfurling before them. The hospital room, now adorned with the intricate details of their intertwined love, became a sanctuary where time seemed to stand still, embracing the beauty of life's fragile yet enduring moments.

The soft glow of the hospital lights filtered through sheer curtains, casting a warm hue that painted the room in a gentle embrace. The air, once laden with the sterile scent of antiseptic, now carried the fragrance of their shared history—the familiar scent of her perfume, the subtle notes of his cologne lingering in the air. The crisp white sheets, once clinical and unwelcoming, cradled them in a cocoon of comfort, a haven woven from threads of shared laughter and whispered confessions.

The shadows of fear and uncertainty, cast by the specter of Shibuya, faded into the background, eclipsed by the radiance of their shared love. Each heartbeat, a testament to survival and resilience, echoed in the room like a melody composed by the hands of fate. The hospital machinery, once an intrusive symphony of beeps and hums, now harmonized with the rhythm of their shared breaths, orchestrating a quiet lullaby of solace.

Nanami's scars, etched like battle-worn poetry on his skin, told a tale of survival and strength. His fingers, once battered and bruised, now intertwined with hers, creating a tapestry of connection that spoke of enduring love. The room held the echoes of their laughter, the whispered promises exchanged in the silent moments when the world outside seemed to disappear.

Their intertwined fingers traced patterns on the crisp sheets, creating a visual symphony of connection. His touch, a gentle caress against her tear-stained cheek, carried the weight of unspoken assurances. Her tears, now mingling with the warmth of his palm, became droplets of gratitude that painted the canvas of their shared existence.

As they leaned into each other's embrace, the hospital bed transformed into a sacred space where love and survival intertwined. The room, once a sterile chamber of uncertainty, now blossomed into a sanctuary of renewal and hope. The delicate dance of their shared gazes painted the walls with the colors of understanding, where unspoken words wove a narrative of connection stronger than any adversity.

The cadence of their breaths, synchronized in the quiet sanctuary, became a hymn of gratitude for the fragile yet enduring moments life had bestowed upon them. The outside world, with its chaos and uncertainties, seemed distant, held at bay by the sanctuary they had created within the hospital room. It was a haven where time, for that moment, ceased to be a relentless force and instead became a gentle companion, allowing them to savor the exquisite beauty of being together.

In that room, the resilience of the human spirit was not merely an abstract concept but a tangible force, pulsating through the air with each shared heartbeat. Their whispered promises, delicate yet profound, lingered in the spaces between them, creating an ethereal connection that surpassed the confines of the hospital walls.

And so, in the quiet embrace of their intertwined love, the hospital room became a canvas where the intricacies of life's tapestry unfolded. The fragility of existence, highlighted by the shadow left behind by the horrors of Shibuya, found solace in the enduring strength of their shared promise—a promise to weather the storms, celebrate the joys, and traverse the unpredictable terrain of life hand in hand.

facts about nanami's relationships: genmei is the person nanami trusts the most, to the point that she knew everything about his life after he left jujutsu high. they met up often to talk about how life was shit while drinking. nobuhiko and nanami were polar opposites when they met. nobuhiko was like suguru and nanami was more like satoru in terms of beliefs. but even more opposite in personality as nobuhiko is more like satoru there and nanami is more like suguru. the person that mediated between each fight was haibara. the first person nanami introduced to his wife was genmei, and they got along pretty fast. the second was nobuhiko, just after nanami and his wife got together when he got back to jujutsu. genmei and nanami have a food blog together, where they document their favorite foods across missions. since they share a similar food palate, that's how they know what to eat when they're near by. genmei, nobuhiko and nanami visit haibara often, together and separately. they often gather to drink beside haibara's grave on his birthday and death day. genmei and satoru were the two witnesses at nanami and his wife's wedding. because satoru was the one who made the process speedy, he's been irritating nanami about naming his first born after gojo satoru. nanami's wife said she'd consider it. nanami refuses.

[thefirstknife]

the fact that Xivu can so easily possess Sloane even if only temporarily is interesting and im curious will ever be brought up and used either in lore or direct plot

also was it just me or was that whole speech she gave to Sloane kinda sound like a weirs love letter.in a Hivey sorta way? 👀

It was so good. It's actually been showed directly before, with what happened to Osiris in Immolant so Sloane's experience was them bringing it up again, in a way! He got compelled by Xivu as well, with a very similar vibe of her speaking to him and driving him to violence. With Sloane it was more direct at the end, so maybe we have yet to see more of that power being used, though it may have something to do with Sloane being half-Taken. Osiris just heard Xivu's voice and got pushed into a sort of a trance of violence.

Osiris peers into the Hive protrusion. Metallic flecks shimmer, and he sees a long and empty road. Meandering. He wishes to plant a great banner over it, so that all may see. A beacon, alight with Phoenix flame. Looming in the nascent flamelight hangs the terrace of blades. The terrace dominates the road; its precipice at his throat. He raises the Dawnblade to meet them. Rupturing cacophony ravages his senses.

I AM THE WAR YOU CRAVE. PURPOSE ETERNAL. A LEGACY IN BLOOD.

"It's full of soulfire veins." Sagira's voice is wind to Osiris. She nudges him.

WHEN YOU DRAW BLADES, YOU DRAW ME.

"Do you hear the whispers?" Osiris's words slur.

YOU CANNOT RESIST WITHOUT INVOKING MY BANNER.

"You're hearing something?" Sagira floats near him.

EMBRACE ME, LIGHTBEARER, AND BE A GOD OF DEATH.

"Whispers." His mind clouds.

Note how he had visions, including a vision of a terrace of blades, the earliest reference to the Black Terrace of Xivu Arath. He was completely taken over by her and her beaming voice in his head. After, he slaughters every legionary that was entranced by the cryptolith.

The Cabal trundles forward. Osiris billows incineration. The blaze cooks the interior of the pod. Kneeling Cabal break free of their trance and stand in the scalding air. Of the remaining seven, two fall immediately to a hail of celestial firebolts. Osiris grounds himself and unleashes a cascade of Arc across the mass of lumbering Legionaries. Lightning bends inward against the pod's magnetic shielding. He holds the storm on them until pressure gel hisses and spits from their suits.

Osiris exhales. Their smoldering bodies invade his nostrils. The scene clarifies. Horror, scorch, and char.

This is a lot more clear now that we've also seen what Sloane had to deal with. It's chilling. Osiris was the first to get caught by this, before he knew it was Xivu. His investigation into this incident is what led him to the Moon. It was an intense experience that he couldn't even properly remember:

"You ready to tell me what that was all about?" Sagira asks. She hovers just above the jumpship's control deck, piloting.

"I wish I could. I remember tracking Caiatl's emissary. Finding the Cabal. The night sky. Then… flame and rage. It took everything in me to push those thoughts from my mind." Osiris slumps in his seat. "There is one clear memory. I felt the Dark whisper that we've been chasing. Like a needle in my spine. It must be at the root of all this."

In-game it's definitely more of a horrifying experience and meant to be that way, by Xivu who seeks to warp minds and push them into war, to tithe her and bind them to her and not so much a weird love letter, even by Hive standards.

I really love how Sloane had 6 weeks worth of people surrounding her and grounding her and helping her cope with trauma and being the shield between her and Xivu. Osiris ran into this out of nowhere, just him and Sagira, before anyone knew of the danger. He never stood a chance. With Sloane, we could prepare and help her. I imagine that Saint's insisting on helping her was motivated by what happened to Osiris. He couldn't save him, but he will do everything to save someone else.

Though personally, outside of the context of the game, I wouldn't object. Xivu, you can beam your thoughts to me, for free.

[dinosaur-in-a-spaceship]

ok guys walk with me: annabeth's abssence from the underworld scenes teased so far, possible athena's appearence and the 4 pearls theory (spoilers from the first book)

From the previews, trailers and teasers, we can assume annabeth is not gonna be a part of most of the events that take place in the underworld. From what I recall, she is not featured in most scenes in the underworld that were teased so far, apart from the cliff and the forest with the creepy ass bald dolls (im guessing those are a part of the underworld realm). We only see percy and grover in most scenes.

At first, i thought maybe she is gonna be sent to camp sooner than what happens in the book, but the teasers show that annabeth will be present in the ares fight (which happens after the events in the underworld). And that debunks my theory that she will be sent to camp before grover.

So why do you guys think she is not present in most scenes?

I think maybe she is gonna be held somewhere in the underworld apart from the boys for some time. My guess is that the precipice we see annabeth falling in might be the same one ferberus is in (from the clip where we see percy holding the red rubber ball, with only grover by his side). Im not sure how she gets out of there, and by her abssence of most of the teasers, im thinking maybe she is gonna be held there for most of the episode, but i have no idea how she is gonna convince the boys to keep going without her. Maybe they leave her under ferberus's protection, if they keep the scene where the two of them bond? (However, so far, we only see percy with the red rubber ball and we only see grover standing beside him).

Either way, we know that they are gonna keep the part where percy is alone delivering the bolt, bc he is alone in the scenes teasing olympus. He is also still wearing the green flanel when he returns to camp, while annabeth is wearing the camp t-shirt, meaning she got there before and they reunite in that scene.

As for the 4th pearl, I think that the addition of it might have happened to show that poseidon thought of sally (the gift of only 3 pearls in the book never made sense to me, did poseidon run out of pearls in his stock?). However, i still think something will happen so that the story keeps on track, with percy being forced to choose between his mother and his best friends in the show too. My guess is that at least one of the pearls might be stolen or accidentally lost.

At first, i thought maybe they'll use a pearl to save annabeth from the precipice, if the pearl was her only chance to escape. Maybe percy would throw one of the pearls and miss the first time, maybe ferberus eats a pearl?? wtf, idk. So he must choose to give her a second pearl, and then has to choose again, this time between grover, sally or himself in the underworld later. But annabeth's presence in the fight with ares has really confused all my theories. So truly i have no idea what is really gonna happen. Maybe the pearl only sends her out of the underworld, she waits for them, then the ares fight happens and THEN annabeth and grover go to camp. But i dont see how she would accept to leave either. Anyway, i hate the possibility of us seeing less of annabeth in the last 2 episodes. I really hope to see the 3 of them braving the underworld together.

I also believe we will meet athena in this season, since all the other gods that appear in the opening are confirmed to appear this season. Maybe she stops being a deadbeat and shows up to save annabeth from the precipice? YEAH RIGHT

[klaineccfanficlibrary]

Hi!

cw// suicide mention

I’m looking for a couple of fics I read years ago where Kurt ends up committing suicide.

In one of them Klaine is married and Blaine is cheating with I think it was Thad? Blaine realizes he only loves Kurt and breaks things off with his affair partner only to come home to Kurt dead.

In the other one, I think Kurt jumps off one of the buildings at Dalton. Spoilers! but at the end it’s revealed to have been a story Blaine wrote for a class he was taking.

Im not sure if they’re on ao3 or fanfiction.net but I haven’t been able to find them and I don’t remember the names since I read them like probably 10 years ago. I think one of the titles had “white” in it? I know this is a long shot but I’m hoping someone can help because I’ve been searching and I’ve had no luck.

Thanks!!

Hi - please check our Suicide tag. (TW) I haven't been able to find any that fit these descriptions - so maybe some of the fandom will. Especially as they seem to be pre 2013/14. They don't seem to be on A03. ~Jen

1 800 SOS by Copper Oxide

Kurt Hummel is standing on the precipice between life and death. His last attempt at life is a shakily-dialed call to a suicide hotline, where he finds the comfort in anonymity and confides his feelings to a stranger for possibly the last time. trigger warnings: self harm, suicide attempt.

[kiseendeavor]

Akuta by the Cliffs

week 44? im a week late, but i might count it if i can catch up.. i dont know at this point. "i stand here at a new peak, and practice my craft.. the rocky waters below threaten its end, should i slip, but i have no fear of such an end.. an end is inevitable in all things, and to let fear ruin something beautiful in the now is a tragedy. to spend every moment in fear or regret is to never live. live beautifully, and passionately! live for those around you, to bring light into their lives. there is no greater purpose.. though, sometimes i wonder, if my work brings light at all, or if i waste my time at the precipice.. i wonder if i ever went back down, if theyd even accept me as i am now. perhaps it better i not worry about these things either."

hellow! one could say i am a little late, but i guess i got here eventually! i hope you like the piece, am sorry i didnt have it in me for a hk art this week ><, but thank you for checking out my work regardless! i hope you have a wonderful week <3