#it shatters and repairs my heart at the same time

[killerfrostisme]

Lockwood and Lucy have the best slowburn romance I've ever read. They're the reason I exist. The ending of The Empty Grave shattered my very soul. It kills me every day that we'll never see this beautiful story on the screen, especially a conclusion that goes beyond the implied but open ending of the last book. But I'm forever grateful to the books. I would still rather have that then some of the other love stories I read which deal with undeveloped characters who rush into the romance aspect of it and are in bed by page 5. I'm sorry, I don't know what this turned into but I've been thinking about them today and thought I'd share.

[perlelune]

Oblivion | Paul Atreides

There used to be beginnings and ends, nights and days, dream and reality, before the haze took over, swallowing every thought, every memory, every whisper of free will.

Warnings: NON-CON, Fremen Reader, Kynes!Reader, Mind Control, Memory Manipulation, Padishah Emperor Paul, Loss of Identity, Brainwashing, Mentions of war and religious fanaticism

This is a dark story. Heed warnings before reading under the cut.

Muad’Dib leads the way. 

It is what the prophecy dictates. That he is the voice from the Outer World. The one who will lead your people to paradise. The one who will turn Dune’s arid desert lands into bountiful, endless green fields. 

But as your eyes rest on him, you do not see the chosen one. You do not see the Lisan Al-Ghaib. You see your friend Paul, broken, lost, his heart shattered into a million pieces due to your cousin’s absence. 

He sits at the head of his bed, shadows fluttering across his delicate features from the glowglobes’ dull orange light. Wide black rings surround his sunken blue eyes, the result of his daily consumption of spice melange. Lank, greasy brown curls hang around his handsome face. A pang twists your chest. He hasn’t slept in days, has barely gotten a full night of replenishing sleep since she left on a maker’s back.

You cannot blame your cousin. Paul’s ascendency to the Golden Lion throne came at a cost. A hefty one. Promises were broken. Trust was destroyed. Only time will repair the damage that was done. Though you carry faith the two of them will find their way back to each other. 

You stir the spice-coffee in the pot, straining the shimmering dark powder before pouring some in a cup. A spicy cinnamon smell coats the cool night air. 

You rise and bring the cup to him.

“For you, Usul.”

A soft smile blooms on his lips as he takes a slow, weary sip.

“You make it so well,” he praises.

You glow at the compliment, returning his smile. Your grandmother used to show you and Chani how to blend coffee beans with spice and herbs. The knowledge never left you. Now, every time you feel troubled or upset, you make a fresh kettleful. A single sip of the familiar brew is enough to alleviate your frazzled nerves. Especially here, so far away from Sietch Tabr, between the strange stone walls of the Arrakeen Keep, you have craved little reminders of home more than ever before.

Fremen belong in the desert, not in peculiar tents made of marble and stone.

Paul’s brows crumple as he studies you. 

“You don’t have to take care of me,” he says.

“I can get another Fremen-”

His fingers latch around your wrist, desperation sizzling under his touch. 

“I prefer it to be you.” He sighs. A bone deep fatigue radiates from the sound. You halt in your tracks. You suppose you could stay a while longer. “Please, stay, your presence soothes me.”

You nod. “I’ll stay, Muad’Dib.”

Relief falls over his features. 

The doors suddenly open, the guards stepping aside to let Stilgar in. He bows to Paul.

“Lisan Al-Ghaib…”

Your friend’s mouth flattens into a thin line. 

“I told you to stop calling me that.”

Stilgar acquiesces. He will never stop addressing Paul with reverence and admiration. None of his followers believes in him more. At times, it scares you a little. While you share the same faith, the fervor with which every Fedaykin is willing to lay their swords in his name can be frightening. Sometimes you wonder if Chani was right. How much will it take to liberate your world? How much blood will require spilling? You’re not completely naive. No war was ever won without a few casualties. Still, part of you hopes the war will end soon and peaceful times will come.

“No sign of her?” Paul asks. 

A contrite expression tugs the older man’s face.

“Apologies, my liege. We scouted the Southern regions this time. We couldn’t find her. She knows the desert well. It is home to us Fremen. She will not be found…”

“...Unless she wants to be found,” you finish, grabbing the empty cup from Paul’s hands and placing it back on the table.

The faint embers of hope in Paul’s cobalt gaze flicker out. Your heart sinks, for both you and him. Though you do not wish to burden him, you miss your cousin too. Her practicality and common sense. Her strength. Without her, a piece of you is missing. A crucial one. Your mother died in childbirth and your father in battle, so both of you grew up together, close enough in age to share secrets and play together for most of your childhood. 

It was Chani who taught you how to summon a worm and ride upon its back for the first time. She is the sister tragic circumstances blessed you with.

Stilgar apologizes profusely once more before taking his leave.

As soon as he’s gone, Paul’s shoulders slump.

“She hates me.” 

You crouch beside him.

“She doesn’t hate you. She never could. She is your quiet in the storm, and you are hers. She will return when she is ready.”

A wry laugh escapes his lips. 

“I have Irulan, my beloved wife, who is likely plotting my demise as we speak. Qizarate missionaries pressing me to take action and purge the non-believers on Aldinor. I am surrounded by foes, everywhere I look.” That distant expression he gets whenever his visions haunt him touches his face. “Blades pointed at my neck at all times, waiting for a sign of weakness to strike.”

You grab his hand, reassuring him, “You also have friends, Usul, who believe in your cause.”

“Fanatics,” he corrects bitterly. 

Your chest swells with worry. You don’t like it when he questions himself as such. His cause is right. He freed Arrakis from the Harkonnen’s iron-fisted rule. He will bring peace to every world in the universe. It is written. It’s the only path forward.

“You are not alone.” His fingers squeeze around yours. Warmth rushes to your face, the realization that you’re awfully close to the Emperor striking you. You adjust the nezhoni scarf covering your hair and rise. “I shall let you rest, my Lord.”

“Stay, please.”

His tone is beseeching. Your gaze swings to the window. There, moon beams pierce through the colorful glass, scattering rainbow splashes of light across the floor. Vibrant stars pepper the dark sky, pearls lost in a sea of ink. It’s pitch black outside. You should be in your own room. Not his.

“Muad’Dib, it’s late…”

His grip on your hand tightens. When he speaks again, his tone is different. Disembodied. Powerful. Its tantalizing echo drips inside your head like honey. 

“Stay,” he mumbles. You plop down on the bed, your body moving on its own, driven by the strange, irresistible thrall of Paul’s voice.

“Usul…” 

He cups your cheeks. 

“Sleep beside me tonight.”

“I’m not her.”

“I don’t want you to be.”

“She should be with me and she isn’t. But you are.” His inflection becomes soft and inviting as he drinks you in. As if he were lumbering through the desert, parched and desperate, and you were a well overflowing with fresh water. “You are beautiful. I never noticed before.” He pauses, tracing your bottom lip. “Perhaps I should have.”

You blink, dazed. When did Paul’s face get so close to yours? You can outline each of his long lashes, the speckles of green lingering in his blue eyes. 

“Paul-”

His mouth grazes yours, his thumb stroking your cheeks. It only lasts a few seconds. The warm plushness of his lips on yours yanks you back to reality. You gasp and flinch back. When you recoil, his silky tone fills your ears once more.

“Don’t fight it. You love me, remember?”

A confused whisper slips through your lips. Two parts of your mind wrestle with Paul’s words. 

“I do?”

His eyes dive into yours.

“Of course, you do.”

“Of course I do,” you repeat, his tone nudging aside the doubts lurking inside your mind. 

A bright smile unfurls on his lips, his lids sagging to half-mast.

“It’s like you said before. You are my quiet in the storm and I am yours.”

Right. You uttered those very same words. How could you forget?

You are Paul’s quiet in the storm. He is yours.

His mouth covers yours. It moves slowly against your own. He explores your mouth as he cradles your face. His long lashes fall over his cheekbones as he loses himself in your taste. He hums against your lips, gentle fingers touching your face. You don’t move, eyes half-open as you let it happen. It’s foreign, the sensation of Paul’s lips on yours. Foreign and strange yet you can’t help but numbly accept it. 

Once he frees your lips, he rests his forehead against yours. 

“Come into my arms, my love,” he says.

You don’t resist as he pulls you into his embrace, nudging you onto the bed. Soft strands of Paul’s brown mane brush against your cheek as he buries his head in the crook of your neck, inhaling your spice-coated scent. 

His arms circle your waist. Your back melds against his chest, the warmth of your bodies mingling through the thin layers of your clothes. 

“You smell so good,” he mutters. Your scarf shifts when he rubs his face against it. “Don’t ever leave me.”

When you don’t reply, his tone gets firmer. “Promise it.”

The words roll off your tongue easily.

“I won’t ever leave you, Paul.”

Tension leaks out of his tightly coiled muscles. 

“Good,” he says, drifting off to sleep quickly with you nestled in his snug embrace. 

You fall asleep too, no thoughts in your head, Paul’s soft snores lulling you into peaceful slumber. 

You awake with a start, the stark unfamiliarity of the palatial chambers you find yourself in causing your pulse to soar. Your eyes dart about the room. Recognition hits you. These are the Emperor’s apartments.

Your eyes grow wide. You’re not supposed to be here. Panic sets in.

“W-What am I doing here?”

Paul’s quiet voice flows across your back.

“Calm down.”

“No. I shouldn’t be here…”

You start crawling off the bed but Paul’s fingers around your wrist impede your departure. 

He holds your face, vibrant blue eyes locking with yours. You find yourself incapable of looking away, ensnared by his unflinching focus.

“I said, Calm down.”

The alarms ringing inside your head fall quiet. You lean into Paul’s touch. What were you doing? What were you thinking? Every thought you attempt to grasp at evaporates in the heat of Muad’Dib’s stare. 

“There. Much better,” he coos, satisfaction hovering on his handsome face. His voice sinks into a sensual whisper. “Why don’t you kneel for me?”

You do as he instructs. Then all fades to black as quicksands of confusion engulf your thoughts. 

When you return to yourself, you aren’t on the bed anymore, but on your knees on the carpeted floor. 

Paul is looming over you, grunting, his throat bobbing. One of his hands is curled around your nape while the other is under your jaw. 

You note the saltiness coating your tongue, the drool on your chin, the soreness in the back of your throat. 

You choke on his length, air wavering inside your lungs. 

Paul’s cock is in your mouth. 

The sick, awful realization tumbles over you like a bag of stones. 

Muffled moans leave you as you lift pleading eyes towards him.

You place your hands on his thighs, shoving with all your strength. 

Paul doesn’t let you move. He cradles your face and thrusts inside your mouth until his balls are pressed into your chin. 

Clouds of lust obscure his gaze as it falls upon you. 

He caresses your face, dragging his cock out before pushing it inside your mouth again. Gurgled sounds leave your throat. Tears skip down your cheeks and you wonder when you’ve started crying. 

Fremen do not cry. Ever. Even for the dead. It is a rare, sacred act.

Paul wipes them off your face with his thumbs. 

“You love me. It is what lovers do,” he says matter-of-factly.

Your body relaxes. 

Right. Of course. You love him. It is what lovers do. 

You hollow your cheeks and suck him off. He unleashes a throaty sigh of delight as you pleasure him with your mouth. 

When his seed drips down your tongue, he coaxes you not to waste a single drop. You swallow all of it, showing no resistance when he nudges a stray drop between your wet lips. 

Several days in a row, you awake in the emperor’s chambers. At first, you experience great confusion. However, Paul’s soothing words always quell your rising panic. It becomes all you know. The Emperor’s mesmerizing voice. His large, soft bed. His ceaseless, ravenous touch. 

Sweaty, tangled limbs melting in lewd harmony.

You stop questioning it. Even the strange lapses of time when you are in one room and mysteriously wind up in another. It isn’t rare for you to wake up with the Emperor’s head bobbing between your thighs, greedily lapping at your folds, or with your hips grinding into his as he impales you on his cock. 

It is where you belong. And you believe him when he says that, mumbling loving promises into your ear in the dead of night.

“If we do not strike fast and hard, they will not accept your rule,” Stilgar says. 

“They worship a false god. We are doing them a favor,” another man sitting at the table interjects. 

A shaky exhale flows from your tongue. You look around, dismay filling you when you realize you’re in Paul’s war room amidst a council meeting. Your head throbs. How did you get here?

You rise from your chair. Bemused gazes land on you. 

Princess Irulan snickers from her seat.

“Husband, your concubine is acting strange,” she sneers.

Concubine? You step away from the table.

You blink several times as you stumble outside. You grip your temples, your forehead scrunching. That cannot be right. Is it? 

You are no one’s concubine. 

You are…

You are…

Adrenaline pumps through your blood as your head buzzes. 

The answer will not come, your mind keeping it under firm lock and key.

Frustration mounts within you. You blindly waddle around.

You end up in a room that bears vague familiarity. You lean against a basin full of water. Water…just lying around. That seems strange.

Your eyes land on a mirror on the opposite wall. The reflection in the glass has your heart rate spiking. Who is this?

You bolt to your feet, the water in the basin splashing around your feet. 

Your tremulous fingers rise to your face, horror filling you when the woman in the mirror mimicks your exact motions. 

Your gaze travels across the wide, open space. Quick breaths rush from your throat. The Emperor’s room. Why did you think it was your room? 

You stagger backwards. You gasp as you bump into a solid form.

You whirl, eyes widening.

“Paul.”

He gauges you, slight concern etched in his blue eyes. Relief fills you as you soak in his boyish, slender features, much more familiar than those of the stranger in the mirror. 

You know Paul. Muad’Dib. Paul is familiar, safe. You trust him. He will tell you who you are.

“Yes, my love?”

“Paul, who am I?”

A displeased frown settles on his brow. He approaches you and grabs your face. His expression hardens.

“You are mine. Nothing else matters.”

“But Paul-”

Your protests are stifled by the feverish press of his lips on yours. A fog surrounds your thoughts as his kiss grows more passionate, his hands sweeping over your curves. You place your hand on his chest, pushing feebly.  

“Forget it. Forget it all, beloved,” he mumbles against your lips. You sag against him. You drown in Paul’s blue eyes, time stretching beyond eternity. 

When you gain a semblance of awareness, your naked form is writhing above Paul’s. Your palms are spread over his lithe muscles, your hips moving as he slams his cock into your cunt repetitively. Paul bites his lip, his gaze glued to the sight of his length disappearing between your wet folds. 

When did you get on the bed? When did you shed your clothes?

Every inquiry melts in the heat swirling across your damp flesh. 

Your lashes flutter as you unleash a broken whimper, Paul’s hard length touching you in places that send electricity rippling through your spine.

You tighten around him and he purrs. 

“Remember nothing but my name,” he rasps, clutching your hips possessively. He impales you on his length, thrusting faster. You choke on your breath, his quickening pace driving you wild.

You brace yourself on his chest and lose yourself in the pleasure, your breath hitching each time he pounds into you.

The filthy sounds of your coupling fill the room, bouncing off the stone walls. Paul’s deep, animalistic moans. Your soft, desperate whimpers. The blunt, wet sounds your cunt makes as he buries himself inside you. The bed rattling and squeaking under your writhing forms.

“Paul, Paul…” you pant as you bounce on his cock. An intensity ignites his eyes as his name falls from your tongue like a prayer. You toss your head back, voice dying in your throat as another wave of pleasure crashes over you. Your toes flex. You tremble, your body jolting as your slick walls flutter around his length. A husky moan leaves him. He twitches inside you. His back lifts from the sheets, his body tensing as he hits his peak too. Slick warmth spills from his tip, glazing your walls. 

An errant sliver of panic lurks inside your brain. Your eyes bulge as you glance down at where your body and Paul’s are conjoined. Rapid breaths burst from your chest.

Seeming to sense your distress, he shoves your hips back down when you try to squirm away.

His authoritative voice booms across the room, unnatural, multiplied. Everywhere at once. 

“Do not move, beloved. Let me fill you up. Make you mine in every way.”

Your breaths settle down. Your worries disappear. You look into Paul’s loving gaze. A smile unfans on his lips as you ride him with abandon again.

“What are you doing?”

You pivot at the abrupt sound of Paul’s voice. You pause above the bag you’re packing. You peer at him, mulling over an appropriate answer to his question. You do not find one. You only know that you stirred awake that morning, feeling strange, sore…Lost. The urge to collect your meager belongings and leave the Arrakeen Keep seared inside you since then. A hollow, distant voice rings inside your head.

Return to Sietch Tabr.

“I have to go. Something…Something isn’t feeling right.”

The muscles of Paul’s jaw flare, his tone as ice as he states, “You want to leave me.”

Discarding your bag, you rush to him. You take his hands in yours.

“No. I made you a promise. I just need time to think…I can’t think anymore, Paul.”

It’s true. Every day feels like trudging through a Coriolis storm, your thoughts scattering as dust in the wind the minute they form.

Everything that was solid before is now sand slipping through your fingers.

Paul’s gaze corrals yours.

“You don’t need to,” he says, gripping your face. His tone dips to a soft lilt that penetrates your senses. “Who are you?”

You search his eyes. A breeze blows away every single doubt you had.

The answer to every inquiry you had is right there. In Paul’s fond stare.

The persistent little voice in your head, that pesky plea begging to be heard suddenly falls quiet. The truth echoes in your head, Paul’s powerful voice filling your mind.

You are right where you belong. 

“I’m yours,” you utter with certainty.

His face softens. “That is correct, my love,” he says, stroking your cheek.

“Now, why don’t you settle down, beloved?” You let him escort you to the bed, coaxing you to take a seat on the sheets. “Agitating yourself as such isn’t good for you.”

He sinks to the floor and drops a gentle kiss over your round belly.

“And it’s not good for the baby either.”

[hyunebunx]

maybe it's not our fault - chapter 01

── synopsis: after a nasty breakup that’s left you completely shattered, you’re set on giving up on love forever. That is until, in a surprising turn of events, your respective best friends start dating and one of their main goals is to restore the peace in your broken relationship. Will their plan succeed? Will they manage to play cupid and get you and your high school sweetheart back together, or will it all backfire and result in the end of their own love story?

There is only one way to find out. If only your beloved’s heart wasn’t already broken beyond repair…

╰─▸ ❝ pairing: hyunjin x fem!reader

╰─▸ ❝ content: exes to lovers, angst, mutual pining, fluff, suggestive themes, drama and heartbreak, jock!hyunjin who is captain of the uni's football team + dance major!hyunjin, college au, lack of communication.

╰─▸ ❝ word count: 10k

a/n: it's here!! special thank you to my croissant baby laure @byunfirstlady (this wouldn't be a me story if i didn't mention her somehow fgfdgh) for reading this for me before posting!! since this is the first chapter, things might feel a little slow, but dw, it will all pick up soon! enjoy <33 and do let me know your thoughts after reading <3

“That is not going to fit!”

He scoffs, already annoyed. “Yes, it is! Just move over a little.”

“A little? I’m already stretched the fuck out! What more do you want from me?”

“Seohyun, I swear to fucking God – “

She yelps, most likely cramping. “Just pull it out, you dumbass – “

“What the hell is going on in here?”

You and Chan stop dead in your tracks, confused at the scene currently playing out in front of your very eyes. You were gone downstairs for less than ten minutes to get the rest of your stuff, with you and Chan carrying a box each that held the essentials to ensure this move went smoothly. And in that time frame, your two other best friends have already managed to be at each other’s throats.

The front door of your apartment was wide open, with dumb and dumber currently looking like two deers caught in headlights on opposite sides, separated by an old armchair whose springs had become a death trap over the years. Last year, when you held parties here, someone was always left standing — it was either the cursed chair or the floor, with most guests picking the latter once they were drunk enough.

“Uh, hi?” Jisung greets, forcing a smile onto boyish features that haven’t changed much since you met almost seven years ago, in high school.

Bewiled, you set the box down by Chan’s feet and approach. “Are you guys, okay? What happened?”

Whistling, Jisung tries to pretend he has everything under control. He doesn’t, he never does, that’s just the type of guy he was. “Duh, we’re fantastic! Everything is under control, don’t even – “

Called it.

“For the love of god, just shut up and let them help us already!” Seohyun barks from the other side, prompting you to peek in to see her straighten her posture, rubbing her wrists in obvious discomfort. With a sigh and a glare from Jisung who steps back to allow Chan to take his place, she explains. “We were trying to get this chair out to make room for the new one.”

Chuckling, Chan inspects the door frame while you pass Seohyun one of the boxes right over the ugly, red chair that’s seen better days. “And it got stuck?”

“Yes, because Jisung didn’t want to listen – “

“Or maybe because you started pushing when I wasn’t ready, like an idiot.” He counters instantly, never one to back out from a fight instigated by Seohyun. Not to be fooled, these two were as close as can be, the bickering reflective of their special bond.

You and Chan share a look as they start again, amusement clear in gentle, doe eyes that have comforted you numerous times over the years. Meeting back in the summer before high school, you and Chan have been attached at the hip ever since, clicking as pre-teens and growing up together, maturing down the same path that’s led you to the same university, and even the same major you also shared with Jisung. Music production has always been a passion of yours, so getting to fulfil that dream with your absolute best friend by your side was a blessing you couldn’t be more thankful for.

“Alright.” Chan stops their bickering, one hand landing on Jisung’s shoulder to get his attention. “Stand on it.”

“Pardon?” Jisung blinks at him, as confused as you and Seohyun were, not sure he heard Chan right.

Smiling, Chan squeezes his shoulder. “So, you can step on the backrest and make it fall over. It will be easier to move afterwards.”

“You think so?” He asks, biting down on his bottom lip, not confident in the slightest.

Your best friend nods, giving his bottom an encouraging pat. “Positively. Now go on, I don’t want to spend my whole day in this hallway.”

Seohyun scrambles back, unwilling to get caught in between Jisung and the chair, giving him enough room to do what he must to free her exit.

Watching the whole scene unfold has you smiling from ear to ear, struggling to keep your laughter at bay once Jisung realizes the task isn’t as dangerous as he expected. It’s anticlimactic, more than anything, as he gets on top of the chair to step on the backrest, going down slowly without even losing his balance.

He blinks, barely realizing it’s over before making eye contact with Seohyun who bursts out laughing like she’s been holding it in since the beginning. The three of you join in quickly after, your delight bouncing off the hallway walls and lifting the spirits tremendously.

After all, nobody in existence was ever excited for summer to end and classes to start again, with a new, even more demanding schedule than last year. You were in your third year now and things were bound to get difficult the closer you got to graduating.

This silly moment was exactly what you needed to start the new year right, sure it would become a core memory later down the line when you’d all be working adults, with even more responsibilities and nonexistent free time. The sight of Chan dragging the armchair out, without any difficulty whatsoever as Jisung and Seohyun’s jaws hit the floor, incredulous he didn’t struggle like they did, was sure to bring a smile to your face for years to come.

When your only access to the apartment was finally free, the four of you gathered inside with the remaining boxes.

“You weren’t kidding, you do have all of your stuff here.” Seohyun hums, scanning her surroundings, and her new home. The apartment was yours. You moved in just last year and you’ve lived by yourself until now, when you welcomed her with open arms and a little too much excitement.

“Yeah.” You nod, already moving around to put the scattered things back in their rightful places. “Sorry about the mess. I didn’t bother cleaning up before leaving.”

The living room was fine – your bedroom was the one that suffered the most, already dreading the thought of having to dig through all the mess to find most of your things.

The apartment was a gift from your parents, after successfully finishing your first year of university living in a dorm. Sure, having your own space was great, but you’d never trade that first year for anything in the world. That’s where you meet Seohyun after all, growing closer and closer with every sleepless night you spent together giggling and talking about everything under the sun, not feeling the hours tick by until one of your alarms would ring, signalling the start of a new day.

It was big, too spacious for only one person to live in, with two bedrooms and a bathroom straight out of an interior design magazine. Even though Seohyun didn’t move in until now, you were never truly alone with Jisung and Chris living right next door. Someone was always keeping you company, which you were thankful for, in more ways than one.

Already moving about like they owned the place, Chris and Jisung were helping you tidy up, with the latter moving to check for anything rotten in the kitchen. With four pairs of hands on deck, it didn’t take more than fifteen minutes for everything to be back to normal, leaving you to take care of the dusting.

“Alright.” Chan stands, carrying two trash bags. “Ji, let’s go get the armchair.”

Jisung follows before Seohyun calls after them. “Right, is it in your car?”

“I thought it was in yours?” He turns around, stopping in the doorway while Chan is already busy calling the elevator, further away.

You see her brows furrow, setting the duster down before grabbing her car keys. “Nope.”

The ding of the elevator gets your attention, and they share a look before hurrying after Chan, in search of said armchair, the door closing behind them with a quiet thud. You lived high up, on the 10th floor – nobody was ever willing to take the stairs and waste that much time.

And so, in the blink of an eye, you are left alone in the apartment that held so many of your memories, beautiful moments you wouldn’t trade even in exchange for forgetting the sad ones.

You feel a little lost, staring around like you couldn’t recognize your own home, shoulders slumping with a deep sigh. Your gaze moves towards your closed bedroom door, feet following before your hand twists the doorknob and you’re engulfed in sunlight, blinking rapidly to adjust to the change in lighting.

Inside, the sight that greets you seems frozen in time, transporting you back in June to the last moments spent in this room, where you were running around to pack in a hurry. You don’t dare move, just taking it all in as memories flood your mind and make your heart ache in your chest, what still remains of it, anyway.

All of your stuff thrown around haphazardly painted a picture you didn’t enjoy, yet couldn’t look away from either. Your bed remained unmade, with piles of clothing, bags and random objects occupying all the space. Framed photographs were thrown everywhere around the room, just so they would stop glaring at you from their place on your nightstand, face down and most likely damaged by the broken glass. The vase on your dresser, which used to stand tall with beautiful, healthy flowers seemed to have lost its color, struggling to fulfil its purpose because of the dried, mouldy peonies you didn’t bother throwing out before leaving.

But what’s even worse than the mess is what tipped you over the edge back then, falling to your knees on the fluffy, white carpet as you sobbed uncontrollably – the things he left behind were still here, in the exact same spots, in pristine condition. Your room looked like it barely survived the hurricane that shared your name, yet his red cap was still resting quietly next to the flowers he got you. One of his sketchbooks, still opened on that drawing he never got to finish as he got too busy with school, was on the other nightstand, on his side of the bed. A pair of his dancing shoes were by the door, right next to your comfy slippers. They have been there for so long, that you couldn’t enter your room without tripping over them and be reminded of his presence every single time. Hell, you bet if you checked right now, his toothbrush will still be next to yours in the cute holder you bought together, his razor not far away.

There were traces of him everywhere you looked in this apartment, clothes and necessities he left behind on his many visits. Like his football jersey, lucky number 20, you’ve worn more times than him, hung in your open closet among empty hangers that barely held on.

It wasn’t fair, how you seemed to crumble along with everything around you while he, and his stupid things, remained intact. The world shattered beneath your feet, freefalling to your doom of self-doubts and regrets while he continued with his life like nothing even happened. Like you never happened; like you weren’t such a fundamental part in his life in the exact same way he was in yours.

Your ex boyfriend moved on in the blink of an eye, while you were still here, crying at the sight of a stupid toothbrush.

This will never be fair. Why did you always seem to draw the short end of the stick?

New beginnings were usually your favorite. Starting another book, turning a new leaf and switching up your wardrobe for a change, getting the inspiration for another song – these were all activities that brought you joy. Now, returning to campus at the end of summer vacation to begin another school year? For the first time since starting university two years ago, felt like an impossible task, one you weren’t ready for in the slightest. Because how could you ever be ready to start your junior year without him?

How could you possibly embark on a new journey without him holding your hand and guiding you through it all, navigating around every hardship with ease like he was the most experienced sailor in existence?

You had no answers, only questions. Too many that were also too loud, bouncing off of the sturdy walls of your mind that were threatening to crumble with every thud, remaining standing only thanks to the unbearable headaches that reminded you to take a break from all the overthinking.

Your mind went quiet as another voice made its presence known, bringing you back to the world outside your bedroom while shooing the dark cloud above your head out the window with ease.

“Oh my god, we lost the goddamn chair!”

A wet laugh escaped your lips, more tears rolling down your cheeks as you desperately tried to wipe them all before joining your friends in the living room. You weren’t stupid – they were worried. That’s why Seohyun was moving in, in the first place. To keep an eye on you at all times, when the other two couldn’t be there and provide the much needed support you craved so badly.

Not like they knew you were aware of their little plan, having them figured out from the moment they showed up at Chan’s doorstep in Australia, last month. They’ve been tiptoeing around you since then, not knowing what emotional state you were in or what’s changed or hasn’t in the two months you spent apart. Sure, Chris might have filled them in, but they were still afraid. Afraid they were going to mess up somehow and have you slipping through their fingers and shatter at any moment, like you were nothing more than a fragile package, all progress lost the second something that reminded you of him jumped into your path.

And, you hate to admit but they were right.

They failed to take into consideration that even though your ex never actually moved in, the apartment was his as much as it was yours, quickly becoming your shared home as you fell into a routine that involved the other at every step.

Your three close friends were the only people present, but all you could see was him, a ghost roaming around and haunting every corner of the house you now despised, his giggles caressing your ears gently every time you moved from one room to the other.

Just being here felt like torture. How were you supposed to spend another two years sleeping in the same bed you shared with the person you thought was going to be your forever?

“Sweetheart.” Chan’s gentle voice coaxes you out of the room as you manage to pull yourself together, no sign of crying or distress still present on your features. If anything, they looked worse than you, crestfallen and a little embarrassed.

“We have something to tell you.” Seohyun steps closer, gently taking your hands into hers and intertwining your fingers loosely.

Jisung nods and is by your side in a second, throwing an arm around your shoulders as he lowers his mouth to your ear. “Chris lost your new armchair.”

“What the fuck?!”

Your laughter joins theirs, a beat later, as Chris remains the only one standing there, arms crossed over his chest with his words falingl on deaf ears, nobody paying attention as he begins defending himself.

When you’re pulled into a warm embrace, with Jisung’s cologne enveloping all your senses, you can’t help but start wondering. Is this a good time to finally reveal you never actually ordered a new chair or…?

︶︶︶︶༉‧₊˚.

Saturday slipped away into a moment in time, and before you knew it, Sunday was upon you. Your last chance at relaxing before the craziness began, and you’d be thrust into a series of new projects, classes and assignments that were already giving you a headache.

Despite spending the previous night celebrating a new beginning with your best friends, having an intimate pizza party with karaoke and a little too much alcohol, you wake up bright and early to get to a previously made appointment. Usually, you wouldn’t go anywhere for the summer, for the first two months anyway. But since you flew out of the country as soon as your exams were over, you didn’t get to help the animal shelter you have been volunteering at since your first year. It left a hole in your heart, and you’d be lying if you said you didn’t feel guilty for disappearing into thin air, with nothing more than a text sent to the owner to let her know you’ll be going away for a while.

Hopefully, they’re willing to forgive and forget and let you make up for it by spending the next two months as involved as possible.

“Good morning, sweetheart.” Comes Chan’s groggy voice, still husky from all the singing he did last night, stumbling out of your spare bedroom with barely open eyes.

You startle, losing your balance while putting on your other shoe and crashing into the wall by the front door. You were hoping to make a swift escape and return before any of them rose since nobody in their right mind would willingly wake up this early.

He appears from around the corner, tank top slightly raised as he’s trying to scratch at his back. “You good?”

“Yep, everything’s just peachy.” Regaining your footing, you manage to put your shoe on and turn your back to him to get a jacket, feeling too awkward to make eye contact right now, which Chan would have laughed about if he wasn’t so sleepy.

“Where are you going?” He yawns, turning to squint at the clock on the far wall, above the couch. “It’s literally 7 am, too early to even be alive right now.”

For some reason, you hesitate to tell him, too out of it for your, and most definitely his liking. Being here was certainly not doing you any good, the walls closing in every time you tried to breathe and lift all the broken pieces of your stupid heart off of your lungs. It felt suffocating, especially when you were left alone with your thoughts as you zoned out one too many times.

Still, you mumble under your breath, reaching for your keys as silently as possible.

“Huh?”

With a sigh, you finally face him, eyes downcast. “Furry Friends Rescue.”

The smile that stretches across his features as he processes your words is so wide and contagious, it brightens up the whole room like he was somehow related to the sun itself, light radiating off of him in waves. It wakes him up instantly, and before you know it, he slips into a pair of slides left by the door and flies to his apartment.

You look after him, confused, and step into the hallway at the same time he does.

“Alright, let’s go!” He beams, locking his door before reaching for your arm softly. “I’ll drive you!”

“Wait, are you sure? I can – “

“Yes, I’m sure!” He frowns, shaking his head and pulling you after him with his newfound energy. “You love it there, and I know you already miss Berry. The least I can do is offer you a ride, are you kidding?”

You can’t help but smile at the mention of his puppy, spirits lifted in an instant. She was such a special little lady and you really bonded in these three months you’ve spent at his parents’ house.

Your parents never allowed you to have a pet, with your mom being allergic, so you did what you could to fill the space that remained constantly empty in your heart.

The drive there is full of laughter and even more singing, with Chris bringing back one of the activities you loved doing since he first got his license back in high school. Carpool karaoke has always been a must in his car, and that’s why you rode with Seohyun on your way back from the airport yesterday. You were a fool because nothing was quite as therapeutic as being silly and singing Disney songs at the top of your lungs with the only person who’s watched you grow into the adult you are today.

The drive to your destination isn’t long, but you still manage to squeeze in five songs before you get off and Chris speeds off. Only after wishing you a good day and making you promise you’ll call once you’re done so he can come pick you up, too. He was too kind, willing to do too much for you sometimes, but you were just the same. You’re afraid you might try moving the moon if he asked, one day.

Your annoying, overprotective brother who wasn’t really your brother, who’d push you into the pool before jumping in to save you in the same breath. He was such a guy.

Approaching with a prep to your step, the shelter’s surroundings have changed drastically since your last visit. The trees in the back have dyed their leaves in warm shades of orange and yellow, scattering some on the ground in hopes of attracting more pet lovers. A beautiful background always pulled people in, just like all pretty things did, and this autumn is particularly beautiful, with sights straight out of famous paintings. Seoul was truly a special city, one that’s nurtured and taught you the meaning of the word love that’s being thrown around too casually for your taste, these days. The city you grew up in, where you found your love for writing and composing, and where you met the most amazing people on this planet.

No other city could compare to your birthplace, no matter how pretty or modern it was.

Just as you make to try the door, with your apology speech all ready to go, it suddenly opens and forces you to take a few steps back in surprise.

“I’m sorry, we aren’t open yet.” The apology comes from a tall man, whose delicate features would have fooled you into believing he wasn’t older than a high schooler. Yet his physique begs to differ, you could tell even from beneath all the layers. He’s wearing the shelter’s apron with the logo you’ve had Jisung design a few years back. A new employee, perhaps? You don’t recognize him, so that’s most likely the case.

Your gaze travels upwards until it meets his brown eyes that fidget at the sudden contact. “Sorry, I’m here to see Mrs. Jeon?”

The stranger shakes his head, bleached blond hair hiding an undercut following his every move. “Mrs. Jeon is out of the country.”

You wait for him to continue, provide more details but when he doesn’t and only raises a brow that almost asks ‘what are you still doing here?’ you sigh and turn to leave. “Right. Will you please tell her Y/n has stopped by?”

“Wait, Y/n L/n?”

You turn right on your heel, both of your eyebrows raised as if to challenge his. “Do I know you?”

He brings his hands up, showing he means no harm as a smile finds his rosy lips, one you don’t truly grasp the meaning of. “No! But I know you.”

Alright, now you’re properly creeped out. Noticing the look on your face, the man quickly corrects himself, letting out an awkward laugh as he rubs the back of his head. “I’m sorry, I’m not good with strangers. Mrs. Jeon does! I was recruited in your place when you didn’t come back in June.”

Oh, so he was your replacement. Great. You had no idea you’d entered a race to see how fast people and places you frequented could replace you during the summer. Very motivating and uplifting. You should have stayed home.

“Oh.” Despite all the thoughts overlapping each other in your head, you only manage to sigh, properly exhausted.

His eyes widen slightly, and without thinking, he grasps your elbow when you turn around to leave for good. “Please do come in! Mrs. Jeon has been waiting to hear from you. She left a note.”

“A note?” When he nods, you shake off his hand and accept the invitation, stepping inside filled with curiosity.

All of the furry friends were in the back, in a separate space away from the reception. The place was modern, decorated in warm, pastel colors that seemed to welcome you with a fuzzy hug, the surroundings pristine. Furry Friends Rescue was built from the ground up by Mrs Jeon’s late husband, who passed away a few years back, right after you started volunteering here. To honor his life, she kept this place running, making it her mission to find loving homes for all the animals that were brought in, investing most of her resources into modernizing the place and treating the animals like they deserved to be treated.

The shelter housed a veterinary office and a pet salon, run by other volunteers who were experts in their fields, students alike and even working people who would come by to offer a helping hand whenever they could. Mr Jeon was a vet – he used to treat all of the animals before he fell sick and became unable to work.

Making his way around the reception desk, which truly resembled the entrance of a corporation, even with all the pet pictures plastered on all the walls, and the dog pattern on the couch, the man picks up a note that was next to the bone-shaped phone.

“Here.”

Your fingers brush his as you take the small paper from him, but you don’t pay any attention to the slight color that appears on his cheeks.

Dear Y/n,

I hope your precious heart managed to heal during your trip

What fitting words for someone who had no idea why you left in the first place. Guess Mrs. Jeon knew you better than you thought, after all.

If you’re reading this, it means I have not yet returned from visiting my grandbabies. It also means Jaemin is the one looking after the place

Please work together until I’m back. He’s a nice kid and I believe you’ll get along well

That is if you’re still willing to return. Always put yourself first. If quitting is what you think is best, just know I’ll never hold it against you

With love, grandma J

P.S. there’s a surprise on the other side 😊

Curious, you flip over the page, eyes scanning the familiar handwriting to decipher what has she left you. A giggle escapes you soon after, shaking your head with fondness spilling from your eyes at her antics. You’re glad that after everything she’s been through, Mrs. Jeon has never changed.

“Is something funny?” The guy you’ve come to learn is named Jaemin asks from the other side of the desk, head tilted slightly in wonder making him resemble an actual puppy.

You dismiss him with a wave of your wrist, pocketing the note. Mrs. J’s brownie recipe you could never get enough of wouldn’t interest him anyway.

“So, you’re Jaemin?” You finally ask, giving him a once-over. He was tall, wearing a denim-on-denim outfit and smiled a little too brightly for your liking. Still, he did look like a nice guy, so you might as well give him a chance, even if meeting someone knew was the last thing you wanted to do.

As expected, he beams, thrusting a hand forward over the desk. “That’s me! Nice to meet you, Y/n. I’ve heard a lot about you.”

You give him a small but genuine smile and shake his hand. “I’m a third year at SNU so I usually volunteer here during summer vacation. I hope we get along.”

He nods, listening to your every word. “Yeah, Mrs. Jeon mentioned we go to the same university. I’m a second year majoring in dance! I’m also a part of the football team so I apologize in advance if I ever end up leaving you here all alone when the season starts.”

Oh, what were the odds?

Your smile drops despite your effort in not reacting, retracting your hand a little too quickly while nodding and trying to act as normal as possible. “Cool.”

Turning around, you begin walking in the opposite direction to escape from this awkward situation Mrs. J has unknowingly put you in.

“Shall we go see the animals?”

He’s on your tail soon after, grabbing another apron on the way for you with that ever present sunny smile of his. Jaemin reminded you of a hyperactive puppy, a golden retriever who would do anything to make you happy, pulling silly stunts and stumbling over his own feet.

Turns out, his bright personality isn’t the only reason Mrs. J has hired Jaemin. You spend the next four hours together, taking care of the animals and talking, to your surprise. They all seemed to love him already, causing a ruckus at the mere sight of him, excited to be let out and greet you both properly.  The puppies especially as they’d run back and forth from you to him without stopping for a while, barely managing to bottle feed them in their excitement. Jaemin was nice, and easy to talk to, happy to get to know you but also talk your ear off when sensing you might need a laugh, managing to make everything funny. A great pick me up, you ended up agreeing with Mrs J’s statement – he was a good guy, the best that could have replaced you and helped her and all the staff in your absence.

For some reason, he felt comfortable opening up to you, and in turn, you told him some things about yourself too.

“What made you want to volunteer here?” He suddenly asks while cradling a noisy kitten, the sight comical.

You barely think before answering, gaze still trained on the bichon that has fallen asleep in your lap while you were brushing her. “I wasn’t allowed to have pets growing up, and I’ve always loved them. I was lucky my best friend had the most adorable puppy in the world right next door, but it wasn’t the same as owning one, you know?”

Jaemin nods, finally calming the kitten, eyes on you. “Oh, that sucks. I couldn’t imagine life without my two babies at home.”

You look up, curious. “You have dogs?”

“Two cats.” He throws a peace sign, chuckling when you smile. “I’m from Busan, so I only get to see them on holidays. I thought coming here and helping out four days a week might help me miss them less.”

“And? Does it help?” You point to the kitten that has fallen asleep in his arms, head crocked to the side weirdly. Looking down, he laughs and sets her in his lap, using his knuckles to gently pet between her ears, one of his hands as big as her whole body.

“It does, actually.” He smiles absentmindedly, most likely reminiscing about his fur babies. “But only momentarily. When I’m back in my dorm room, I still feel their absence.”

“I’m sorry.” Is all you say, a deep pang of sadness hitting you out of nowhere. You guess this is how Chris and Jisung feel as well, both away from their respective dogs they’ve more or less grown up with.

Jaemin shakes his head, still smiling and not as sad as you’d thought he’d be. “None of that. I facetime my mom every night just to see them.”

“That’s cute.” A smile finds its way on your face as you imagine him using the same baby voice he uses with the animals here on the phone with his mom, cooing at his cats.

“You’re cute.”

An uncharacteristic silence falls upon you as Jaemin searches for your gaze, dying to understand your reaction. It wasn’t uncomfortable, just weird, making you feel like you were doing something wrong. Which made no sense. Jisung and Chan called you cute all the time; not out of nowhere, but when the moment was right. Heck, Seohyun would write entire pages praising your beauty whenever you posted on Instagram – you knew you were cute. But this was different, this was someone that meant it romantically, you could tell. He was flirting with you, shooting his shot and seeing where it landed.

That wasn’t something you could reciprocate, especially not now.

When he notices the look in your eyes, the storm brewing behind them, he adds. “I was talking about Belle over there.”

You look down at Belle, the fluffy bichon in your lap, who is currently sleeping soundly on her back, tummy up and randomly kicking her feet once in a while, dreamland surely rowdy.

“Shut up.” You laugh a moment later, appreciating how fast he took the hint and backed off, leaning over to softly push him on the doggy mats, to which he pretends to fall just for your amusement.

With that out of the way, things return to normal quickly and before you know it, the other volunteers arrive and you’re biding Jaemin goodbye and going on your merry way, back to your apartment.

It’s afternoon now, hopefully your friends are awake by now.

︶︶︶︶༉‧₊˚.

They were in fact, not awake. Jisung just moved himself from the spare bedroom he shared with Chris for the night to the living room couch to sleep some more, without having to deal with the other’s snoring. Seohyun was buried in your blanket, hiding from the world, in the same position she was in when you left that morning.

Like it or not, it seems their bodies were incapable of pulling all-nighters after doing it for so many years without suffering the day after. Hopefully, you all manage to fix your sleep schedules before your classes start properly, not wanting to miss too many and be left behind, confused out of your minds and barely figuring it out by the time exam season rolls around.

︶︶︶︶༉‧₊˚.

“I’m sleepy.” Seohyun complains, reaching up to rub her eyes before remembering the pretty eyeliner currently gracing her eyelids and stopping at the last second, groaning.

You giggle, full of energy from the coffee Chris made sure got into your system before your first class, swirling the ice in your cup absentmindedly, mind somewhere else.

Busy on his phone, he doesn’t even look up as he responds. “You barely made it to class this morning and you’re still complaining?”

Monday, 10:15 am. Your first class of the day officially ended fifteen minutes ago and as you’ve been doing for two years now, your friend group meet up at your favorite location, the diner closest to campus that has become some sort of sanctuary by now.

Seohyun was majoring in communication so she did not share your classes yet somehow, the four of you have started the new school year in the same way – with a boring, way too long 8 am lecture that almost erased your will to live.

She shoots him a dirty look he doesn’t notice, but otherwise doesn’t respond, too tired to bother with Chris and his top student agenda. Because being popular, good at sports and everyone’s friend wasn’t enough for him; your best friend was the academic weapon every freshman aspired to be, without trying too hard either. Hands down the most gifted and smartest person you know.

“You did go to bed super late last night.” You reach for her hand across the table, gently massaging her palm in hopes she’ll feel a bit better.

Just then, Jisung returns with your drinks, handing them out one by one like he was a barista himself. When he’s done and you all thank him, he takes his seat across from you and Chris, next to Seohyun. “What did I miss?”

“Seohyun was complaining.” Chris responds instantly, fingers typing away. What could be more interesting than spending time with your closest friends?

“Oh, so nothing new.”

At the same time, you softly smack the back of Chris’ head while she smacks Jisung, with a little more force, only the latter reacting loudly.

“Stop being mean.” You reprimand, and Chris puts his phone down with a sigh, leaning back in his chair to stretch his arms above his head.

“For your information, being late was not my fault.” Seohyun chimes in, finally in the mood to explain herself after taking several sips of her coffee. “This random guy ran straight into me, I was tackled to the ground!”

Concern flashes over your features. “Are you okay?”

She nods. “Yeah, don’t worry. He helped me up and gathered all of my books while apologizing. Then I met up with Ji and he carried my bag to class.”

Both you and Chris shoot Jisung a curious look, not convinced he went through all of that trouble out of the kindness of his own heart.

“In my defense,” Jisung shrugs, his arm thrown over the booth behind Seohyun’s head, “I really did not want to come to class.”

Chris chuckles and sips from his strawberry milkshake while you shake your head, smiling and pinching the back of Jisung’s hand that was resting on the table, to which he retaliates by throwing the straw paper in your face.

“To be honest, I wasn’t paying attention either so he’s not entirely to blame here.” She continues like neither of you has said anything, resting her head in her palm with a dreamy look in her eyes. “Besides, he was fucking gorgeous. I swear I’ve never seen such a beautiful man before. And his freckles? Literal constellations right on his cheeks, oh my god.”

“Okay, Juliet, pipe down.” Jisung flicks her forehead and she swats his hand away, glaring.

Amused, you lean closer with interest. “Did you get his name?”

She shakes her head. “No” Then, her gaze moves to Chris. “That’s why, I need you to find him for me.”

Raising a brow, he reaches for your drink to have a taste before responding. “What am I, the local newspaper? You’re the one who bumped into him.”

“Yes, but you literally know everyone on campus.”

He makes a face, deeming your drink too bitter for his taste. “So do you.”

That was true. Seohyun was the definition of a social butterfly, mingling with all cliques and being liked by everyone she came into contact with. However, she was also very perceptive so if someone’s vibe seemed off, she could come across as cold and aloof, not giving them the time of day.

“Please?” She continues, resorting to the infamous puppy eyes. “This guy might be the love of my life, Chris, please help me.”

“What about Mark?” Jisung buts in, giving her a questioning look. Immediately, you and Chris signal for him to cut it out, abort the ship and never utter that name for as long as he draws breath.

Seohyun’s gaze drops to her cup, manicured finger moving back and forth on the edge, pretending she didn’t hear any of the words that have left Jisung’s mouth. To his credit, Jisung looks a little guilty, arm sliding over her shoulder and squeezing briefly in a silent apology, hoping it will be enough to fix things.

The probability of this mystery guy being the love of her life was low, but Chris seemed to feel bad enough to give in, exhaling deeply. Seohyun’s track record wasn’t great – for some reason, she always fell for emotionally unavailable guys, with her latest situationship ending not too long ago once she realized Mark did not want anything serious.

She didn’t deserve all that. Seohyun was the sweetest, kindest person you knew, with a heart of gold. If anyone deserved to find true love and grow old with rosy cheeks, still feeling butterflies at the mention of her beloved’s name no matter how many years passed, it was her. And you’d be damned if you didn’t try to make that happen.

“Let’s find this pretty boy of yours.” You smile as Chris nods, enjoying the way her face gradually lights up.

“Really?”

“I’d feel like I kicked a puppy while it was down if I didn’t, so what the hell. We’ve done crazier things anyways.” Chris adds and she squeals, getting out of the booth to come over and hug him, suddenly excited.

“Oh!” She rushes back to her seat, instantly rummaging through her bag. “This is his. I think it got mixed up with my books when I dropped them. He was in a hurry.”

The three of you huddle together as she places a small notebook on the table, curious about its contents that might reveal the identity of Seohyun’s prospective new…something. Let’s hope boyfriend, and nobody that treats her less than that.

Chris is the one who dares open it, flipping through the pages in wonder.

“These are…recipes?” He blinks, drawing a blank as the measurements for the perfect ‘gooey brownies’ stare him right in the face.

None of you says anything for a moment, the gears in your head turning and working simultaneously before Jisung breaks the silence with an unexpected outburst.

“Oh my god, he’s a fucking loser!”

Safe to say, he got smacked a couple more times before your next class of the day. Lovingly, of course.

︶︶︶︶༉‧₊˚.

With everyone promising to ask around for Seohyun’s prince charming, you go on with your day until your last class, when you established to meet again for a little get together with all of your other friends.

The sun was starting to set, casting a warm, golden hue that extended throughout the whole campus, creating mesmerizing surroundings you could barely look away from. Thankfully by now, you’re outside, enjoying the warm breeze and nice weather that might not return any time soon as the days will only continue to get shorter and shorter as time passes.

You’re currently near the football field, cutting through near the bleachers to get to the other side where Chris and his swimming team are currently meeting. Seohyun is skipping a few feet in front of you, obviously in good spirits.

“Didn’t know Chris needed a chaperone.” She teases, turning to you with a smile as she starts walking backwards.

You chuckle. “Well, he is our ride.”

“We could have walked.” She stretches her arms as if to prove a point. “It’s such a beautiful day! It’s a shame we have to miss out on the rest of it, too.”

You were on your way to a bar, a new one that opened all the way in Hongdae. The owner has invited 3racha, Chris and Jisung’s music group personally, so it would be rude to not show up, even if you did share her sentiment. If it were up to you, you’d be in bed, snuggling already, but your friends have made it a point to keep you out of the house as much as possible.

“Just say thank you, Seohyun.”

“Thank you, Seohyun, for being the hottest girl around!”

You both laugh, enjoying each other’s company before she turns back around and resumes her skipping, long, bleached hair flowing freely behind her in the prettiest way. As you reach for your phone to record her for memories, a speck of red gets your attention in an instant.

You keep walking but your eyes are glued to the field now, to the eight or so guys dressed in the white and red uniform of your university’s American football team. Your heart rate picks up in an instant, scanning their jersey numbers in a hurry.

Relief floods your system when you don’t find what you’re looking for, slowing down. These guys looked young, most likely freshmen trying out for a spot in the most famous football team your university has had in years. You didn’t know how that worked, your memory failed you as you tried to remember when tryouts took place. It seemed a little too early for all that though, too soon to be looking for new people when the season kicked off somewhere in October, a good month and a half away. You couldn’t help but wonder why the hurry.

“Y/n! Watch out!”

Seohyun’s screaming startles you out of your thoughts, your eyes coming into focus to see a football flying right in your direction, quickly approaching your head. Before you know it, you’re ducking and running, feeling bad for snoozing and interfering with practice. Of course, this had to happen, you were cursed after all. You could never be near a sports field without something hitting you, no matter how small or insignificant the object, it always had to make contact with your face.

However, you don’t make it very far before you come to an abrupt stop as you collide with something or better said, someone, the impact causing you to stumble a few steps back until rough, gloved hands stabilize you by the shoulders.

When you regain your footing and finally look up at your saviour, your heart actually stops.

Because the one looking back, right through you is none other than Hyunjin. Your Hyunjin.

Or actually, he wasn’t yours anymore, now, was he?

Hyunjin who’s written his name across your heart in golden letters, that suddenly lit up at the mere sight of him. Your ex-boyfriend looked almost unrecognizable, his short black hair replaced by long, bleached locks that were pushed back, away from his face in a little ponytail.

You were a fool to think he wouldn’t be here. He was the captain after all and the coach was nowhere in sight.

The air wasn’t entering your lungs anymore, yet somehow you were still breathing, being kept afloat by his familiar hands on your skin, so overly conscious of his touch that you barely registered the shiver running down your spine.

After three months apart with no communication, Hyunjin was finally looking at you, forced to acknowledge your presence. It felt a little surreal, bumping into him so soon. Sure, you were expecting it, but not on your very first day back to campus, not when you still haven’t processed the fact that you weren’t together anymore. Everything in you longed for him and all his endearing quirks, even after all this time; even after he broke your heart.

You don’t dare look away, and neither does he, enthralled by those beautiful eyes of his that used to watch your every move with so much love and care. Now, you don’t see any of these emotions, but there is an intensity to his gaze that you can’t quite put your finger on. Time always seemed to come to a stop when you were with him and right now it was no different. All of your surroundings faded, leaving him the sole object of your attention.

There was a new piercing adorning his face, right under his bleached eyebrow. It looked good, like everything he deemed worthy enough to leave a mark on his body. But that wasn’t what got your heart beating again, pounding against your ribcage at an alarming pace he was sure to hear even from afar.

Without looking away, his hands slide down your arms slowly, and for a brief moment, you think they’re going to find solace in yours, just like they’ve done for all these years. By the surprise flickering in his eyes, you believe he thought of the same thing, catching himself at the last second and taking a step back, arms falling to his side heavily.

“Yo, what the fuck was that?” A new voice has you both snapping out of it, finally allowing you to look away and escape the staring war neither had the resources to win. It’s familiar, and as someone stops right by your side, seemingly out of nowhere, there’s no doubt in your mind about his identity.

“Y/n, are you okay?

You blink, and the magic from before finally dissipates completely, almost like the spell Hyunjin has got you under broke the moment he made himself busy by reaching for his helmet on the ground. When you manage to tear your eyes from him, Yeonjun, one of his friends and teammates, comes into view and places a hand on your shoulder in concern. The ball that almost collided with your head is under his other arm, and you notice that he’s not wearing his gloves as he should be.

Eventually, you nod, looking straight into his eyes while mustering your most convincing smile. “Yeah, don’t worry. Nothing even happened.”

“It almost did.” He states, glaring towards the group of men who seemed glued on the spot. “If it weren’t for Hyunjin, things might have ended badly.”

You look away, not knowing how to act around them anymore. Hyunjin doesn’t respond either, just moves out of the way as Seohyun sprints to your rescue, pulling your body into the tightest hug and putting some distance between you and the two men.

“Are you okay? You’re not hurt anywhere, right?” She’s instantly checking you all over, dusting invisible dirt off your clothes before patting your head lovingly, just like a mother would do to comfort her sobbing child. Truthfully speaking, you weren’t far from turning into one, but the mortification of bursting into tears in front of all these people kept your emotions in check. You reckon a football to the face would have hurt less than having Hyunjin treat you like a stranger he’s meeting for the first time, barely reacting to your sudden appearance.

In hindsight, him reacting differently was almost impossible. Especially in the way you’d want him to react. Hyunjin had changed right before your very eyes in the last months before your relationship ended, burying his sweet and sensitive nature so deep down that you feared it might have gotten erased permanently.

Grasping her hands, you nod to calm her racing mind. “I’m fine, mom.” Then, you turn to Yeonjun again. “Sorry for interrupting practice like that. I should have been more careful.”

You hear Hyunjin scoff from somewhere behind you, still not brave enough to show his face, while Yeonjun shakes his head vehemently. “Nonsense. You did nothing wrong. Those guys though? They did plenty.”

He squeezes your shoulder reassuringly before excusing himself to join said guys, voice loud and annoyed. “Who were you passing that to? Are you fucking blind or just stupid?”

Yeonjun had no authority over them, not like Hyunjin did anyway. But he was still a seasoned player, one that’s been with the team for two years, so his words carried significant weight. He was a year older than all of you yet only decided to give football a chance in his second year, joining the team at the same time as Hyunjin. Their roles on the team were the opposite of each other – while Hyunjin was on the offensive, Yeonjun was a defensive player in charge of keeping the other team as far away as possible. Yet, they clicked and worked so well together that the probability of SNU losing a game with both of them present was close to none.

Bonding outside the field proved just as easy and before you knew it, Yeonjun became one of Hyunjin’s treasured friends, bringing their envied teamwork to more events than necessary.

For these guys to have a chance before the coach, they first needed to impress these two. And one thing about Hyunjin was that he was very hard to impress, especially in the areas he excelled in.

Your eyes naturally gravitate towards him along with your thoughts, his magnetic field still as strong as always. To your utter surprise, he moved to stand a little further away, facing his potential new teammates.

“Who threw that?”

The sound of his voice alone is enough to overwhelm you, suddenly way too emotional to keep still, to manage to keep your cool and act as nonchalant as he was. You haven’t heard that voice in so long, you’re sure you’d have collapsed if he as much as uttered your name.

Your name on his tongue has always been your favorite sound, no other word ever coming close to having that same effect.

Sheepishly, one of the guys steps forward while rubbing the back of their necks, visibly taken aback by the coldness in Hyunjin’s voice.

Hyunjin’s eyes narrow just as Seohyun links her arm through yours and tugs your body closer.

“Apologize.”

“Yes, captain!” He nods instantly, bowing repeatedly in Hyunjin’s direction to show exactly how sorry he feels for disappointing him. “I’m –“

“Not to me.” Hyunjin crosses his arms over wide chest, shoulder blade plates making him look even more intimidating as he stands to his full height, rolling his eyes. “To her.”

Your eyes widen as the guy looks up, searching for you with confusion visible even through his big helmet. Hesitantly, he changes targets, stopping before you and Seohyun.

“Hyunjin – “ You manage to squeak out, hating the way your voice almost gets caught in your throat, heat rushing to your face.

“Let him apologize.” His gaze travels to you leisurely, impatience clear in usual doe eyes.

But you aren’t far behind, a little annoyed by his insistence, managing to pull yourself together to counter. “I don’t think that’s necessary.”

“And last I checked, I didn’t ask for your opinion.” As quick-witted as always, Hyunjin isn’t even looking at you anymore, not bothering to react in any other way, like you weren’t even worth getting annoyed at. “He made a mistake that under normal circumstances, could have cost us the game. He needs to own up to it and apologize not only to you but to his teammates as well.”

Then, the guy seems to get smaller under his sharp gaze, instantly dropping into a deep bow and obeying Hyunjin’s words to a T. “I’m so sorry for throwing the ball in your direction!” In the next second, he’s spinning around and bowing to the other guys as Seohyun struggles to keep in her laughter at his next words. “I’m sorry for being an idiot!”

To his credit, Hyunjin hasn’t addressed him as such, always one to keep things professional. Yet, you notice the slight twitch of his mouth, obviously pleased and amused as Yeonjun bursts out laughing.

The guys bow in return, and suddenly they’re all shouting apologies at each other, owning up to all of the little mistakes they’ve made up until now that might’ve inconvenienced the other in some way, feeling bad for possibly giving anyone a hard time.

Not being able to hold it in anymore, your best friend almost collapses from laughter, needing to walk it off to calm down, only to start again as she locks eyes with Yeonjun a little farther away.

You’re so taken aback that you don’t even know how to react, watching the scene before you as flabbergasted as one could get. It was wholesome to see these kids already acting like a team but a part of you couldn’t help but feel bad once it remembered none might actually get to play and represent their university on the field. Hyunjin was trying to instil some discipline into them, but at what cost? What was the point?

Just as you’re contemplating everything that happened, the eight guys suddenly stop and turn to bow in Hyunjin’s direction as well, apologizing at the same time like it’s an activity they’ve rehearsed beforehand. It gets quiet as they wait for an answer, not even daring to raise their heads and see Hyunjin’s reaction, just patiently waiting for the go ahead so they can go back to practice.

Since when was Hyunjin running this team like the fucking marines?

Despite not looking at him, when Hyunjin nods they all stand to their full heights before him, awaiting further instructions. The mood shifts, all tense and serious like they weren’t sweet and wholesome just a moment ago.

“Since none of you seem able to handle one of these yet,” he barely finishes his sentence before Yeonjun passes him the ball, catching it with ease to hold up for the others to see. It all happened so quickly and naturally, that the others most likely didn’t notice, but you did. Hyunjin isn’t using his dominant hand. “you’ll be running laps until the coach gets here. Whoever is not up for it, drop your gears – you’re out.”

You’re expecting complaints and groans in protest but instead, they all nod and succumb to their miserable fates, doing exactly what Hyunjin has instructed. A little further away, you notice Yeonjun laughing without shame, having a blast at their expense.

“Asshole.” Seohyun murmurs, rolling her eyes, and you’re unsure who she’s talking about. “Let’s go. Any more time and Chris will send his speedo wearing army out in the wild to look for us.”

You want to laugh, to agree, and turn your back on this incident and leave without a word. But you can’t, feet lodged into place like you were standing on the biggest patch of mud around.

Hyunjin’s back was already to you, form cladded in that familiar uniform you’ve felt under your fingertips for years. The 20 under his surname written in capital letters on his jersey were almost mocking you, mad for holding their twin hostage in your mess of a closet. It doesn’t matter – in a month or so, they’ll be replaced in favour of a new design that comes around every new season. Just like your presence in his life will inevitably be filled by someone else; someone better, capable of loving him at his worst.

You had so much to say, so many words eager to escape and latch onto him, to get his attention and feed from it, growing bolder and more desperate with every second spent by his side. Hyunjin always brought the best out of you – until he broke things off. Then everything just came to a stop. Like someone lifted the stylus off of a vinyl before the song got the chance to come to an end, damaging the record and your ears in the process.

You loved music but suddenly, your life was quiet.

Hyunjin has been your muse for the entirety of your relationship, all of your songs based on him and the love that managed to blossom thanks to your shared effort. The butterflies and the fireworks all faded without a trace, making your music sound bland and meaningless, off-key since the one who inspired it was no longer there.

You wanted to call out his name, get him to stop and not leave you behind again but you didn’t know how, unable to without bursting into tears and breaking down for everyone to see. Hyunjin has been a part of your life for so many years, how were you ever supposed to start acting like he never was? Erasing him and the mark he left would surely be impossible without a potion of sorts, some Eternal Sunshine mechanism that will ensure your brain will be tricked into believing he was never here, to begin with.

Seohyun is off to the side, giving you the space needed to put your thoughts in order, for your next move. This was your chance, the moment you’ve been waiting for.

But you couldn’t do it. You couldn’t run after him no matter how loudly your heart was screaming in protest.

So, you turn around and latch onto your best friend as she begins pulling you along, quick to come to your rescue as always. Struggling to keep it together, with tears welling up in your eyes, you miss the way he turns to look in your direction one more time. One last time.

You’ve always believed Hyunjin was the love of your life, the one you’d grow old holding hands with.

Now, your perspective has changed, as did the main character role he has played in your story for the past five years. No longer was he the charming male lead, the prince coming in on a white horse to swoop you off your feet in a grand gesture of romance.

Hyunjin was the loss of your life. The one that managed to get away even with the tight grip you’ve tried to keep on his heart.

Hyunjin transformed into a background character that won’t be there for the ride, and won’t get to witness the new developments happening from now on in your life.

You would have rather been the one written off the story if it meant keeping him. Unfortunately, that was not a possibility since without you, there wouldn’t be a story to begin with.

︶︶︶︶༉‧₊˚.

[pennyellee]

𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐈𝐗 - 𝐥𝐚𝐜𝐮𝐧𝐚

LACRIMOSA | MYG MAFIA YANDERE AU

pairings: mafia leader!yoongi x f!reader genre: mafia!au, yandere au, historical au

summary: Their interlocking gaze served as a butterfly effect on his heart, stirring it to the core. She, in turn, only dreams to find a way to escape. But perchance, over time she might forcefully learn to love the man who has taken so much from her.

Thus unfolds a twisted tale of love and loss, of hope and despair, of life and death. The music reverberated through the dimly-lit streets. Tears of sorrow, weeping symphony - reflects the hurt, the scars that linger deep within and the wounds that never healed. Lacrimosa.

warnings: minors dni 18+ | mafia au, dark!yoongi, mafia!yoongi, mentions of antidepressants, anxiety, panic attacks, nightmares, mentions of night terrors, mentions of self harm, manipulative behaviour, mentions of labotomy, medical cases, intimate life, diseases, “failed” pregnancy, alcohol, medication, etc.

beta read by @chaoticpuff17

word count: 8,7K

disclaimer: this story is purely fictional, it does not depict real-life events or involve any actual members of BTS. This story will contain depictions of violence, blood shed, death, mentions of abuse, smoking, alcohol drinking, illegal activities, old social norms and traditions, which we do not condone.

A/N: so yes, it took me a while to actually finish this chapter and as I mentioned - it’s shorter than what I usually want to write for lacrimosa. Truth to be told, this is what I can do for now till I get something better to write on. I don’t know when the next chapter will be written and up, so for now thank you for your patience, i actually didnt think i would write a chapter whilst im in US coz the only device on my person is my phone, but im very happy I managed to write something. This chapter is more of a prequel go what’s going to happen next. Many of you actually guessed/predicted some things right and for some you have to wait till the very end, we’re near it.

Massive thank you goes to @chaoticpuff17 who managed to beta read it despite both our situations being crazy rn, ily queen 🥹🫧🩵

Love you all, p.

m.list previous next

lacuna (n.) a blank space, missing part

The night was relentless, a symphony of thunderclaps and the steady drum of rain against the cobblestones. The celebrations of the famous Kkangpae toned down, and after some months, several trips to the barren debris land of where Yakuza reigned, they returned safely to the sanctuary.

Back where she cannot hide from him in the stables, kitchen or sunroom, switching from one room to another just to not be in his presence for longer than she wanted. Yet, he managed to steal her away when his frustration boiled up enough. Y/N could’ve hinted how much she doesn’t want him to sleep next to her all she wants, he kept sneaking in and out every time. Yoongi was patient, determined even. Determined to make things right this time by giving her space. But the wrenching feeling of not having her close enough consumed him, night, day and moon.

Yoongi kept his promise, giving Y/N the space she needed while gradually attempting to rebuild the trust that had been shattered. He was careful with his words, patient in his actions, and ever attentive to her unspoken needs. The pair worked on their friendship these past weeks, he wanted himself to be her person. The person that she would love and lean on.

But the young Buin might seem calm now, from outside, but her wit remained under the surface. She buried herself deep within her psyche and doctor Kim could do very little to “repair” her. Not even renown specialists who came to give the young girl a helping hand did not succeed.

Yoongi watched her from a distance yet at the same time he was so close, his heart aching with the knowledge that he was partly to blame for her withdrawal. He had been too harsh, too controlling. Now, he was paying the price. He wanted nothing more than to hold her, to whisper apologies and promises into her ear. But every time he approached, he could see the fear and distrust in her eyes. It was a barrier he didn't know how to break.

Wang Xiaoqing’s wisdom was passed onto her, they whispered. But truth to be told, the elder woman, may she rest in peace, underestimated the new blood. The following legacy. Now, her kin suffers.

Yoongi wishes he never used the letter as leverage against her nor let her read it. At night he wonders whether that would change things. Whether by now she would be in love with him just as much he’s in love with her.

He sat down with the rest of his family at the dinner table after she broke down with yet another panic attack. The dining room was oppressively silent, the atmosphere thick with unspoken tension. It wasn’t even the end of January, and the snow was still prevailing outside. Yoongi sat at the head of the table, his expression a mask of stoic resolve, though his heart was anything but calm.

Y/N was conspicuously absent, her chair at the table glaringly empty. Yoongi's mind replayed the scene from earlier, the look of sheer panic in her eyes as she had crumbled under the weight of her emotions. He had wanted to reach out to her, to offer comfort, but he knew his presence would only worsen her distress.

Clearing his throat, Yoongi broke the silence, his voice strained but firm.

“I know you care about me. About this family—”

“I’ve made mistakes—mistakes that have pushed her to the edge.”

“No, Yoongi—” the right hand man straightened himself in his seat interrupting his leader.

Yoongi’s eyes flickered with a mixture of frustration and sorrow as he turned to face his right-hand man, Namjoon. The room held its breath, tension crackling in the air.

“Namjoon, please,” Yoongi said, his voice weary. “My wife slit her throat, stop justifying my actions.”

Namjoon hesitated but nodded, leaning back in his chair, his expression still troubled. Yoongi took a deep breath, steeling himself to continue.

"I pushed her too far, and now she's breaking—”

“Now, I don’t know what your intentions are with my wife, but I forbid you from whatever you are putting into her head.”

Namjoon's eyes widened in shock at Yoongi's words, his mouth opening and closing as if searching for the right response. The weight of Yoongi's accusation hung heavy in the air, and the room seemed to grow even quieter, the tension palpable.

Yoongi's jaw clenched, his frustration simmering beneath the surface. He had always trusted Namjoon implicitly, had relied on him as his closest confidant and advisor. But now, in the wake of Y/N's pain and suffering, he couldn't help but wonder if that trust had been misplaced.

“All of you.”

“Yoongi, I swear—” Namjoon began, his voice tinged with desperation. But Yoongi held up a hand, cutting him off.

“I don't want to hear it, Namjoon,” he said, his tone final.

“Whatever it is, I’m giving her the space to tell me herself.” Namjoon's gaze faltered under Yoongi's intense stare.

“I would never intentionally do anything to harm Y/N or come between you two. She's like family to me, too.” Yoongi's jaw clenched tighter, but he nodded curtly, acknowledging Namjoon's words.

“Seokjin.” He addressed the oldest man in the room.

“Yes, Yoongi?” Seokjin replied, his voice steady despite the gravity of the situation.

“She’s still taking those pills you gave her,” Seokjin's brow furrowed in concern at Yoongi's words. They were only a temporary solution before Seokjin decided that day to put her on barbiturates. She needs his help and if he cannot help her the way he knows it will be most effective, he’ll at least prescribe whatever will tone down her night terrors so she can sleep at nights.

"I'll talk to her," he said firmly. “But you know what would certainly help her—” Yoongi’s hand flew high to hit the table, making everybody twitch at the loud noise.

“No, Seokjin. No.” The family members exchanged solemn nods. Yoongi took a moment to compose himself, his chest heaving with pent-up frustration.

"She needs more support than we can provide on our own. We have to consider what's best for her.” Yoongi struggled to find the words to express his feelings. "I know, Seokjin," he replied, his voice thick with emotion. "But that is going way too far.”

Namjoon leaned forward, his expression earnest. The youngest at the end of the table cleared his throat. All eyes turned to him, waiting for his input. Jungkook hesitated for a moment, feeling the weight of the tension in the room, before speaking up.

“Maybe you just need to stop shielding her in. Let her live a life—” Jungkook's suggestion hung in the air, a fresh perspective on the situation that caused the family members to exchange thoughtful glances.

Yoongi's brow furrowed as he considered Jungkook's words, the idea of allowing Y/N more freedom conflicting with his instinct to protect her.

“But what if she runs for the hills, Kook.” Park Jimin’s voice echoed from across the room, his hands busy pouring the strong liquor to seven crystal glasses. Yoongi's gaze flickered towards Jimin, setting the first glass in front of him.

"I can't bear the thought of her running away from me again," Yoongi admitted, his voice heavy with emotion. Hoseok nodded in agreement, his expression sombre.

Jungkook nodded thoughtfully, understanding Yoongi's apprehension. "I get where you're coming from, hyung,—” Jimin set down the last glass of liquor, his expression sympathetic.

“I’d say, nonetheless, she needs something to occupy her mind other than those thoughts.” Said Jimin sitting down on his chair while nursing his own glass of the booze.

"Maybe if we can find something that brings her joy, something to distract her—” Seokjin nodded in agreement, his expression thoughtful.

“She studied, tasted her own freedom and now all she’s left with is being your wife.” Yoongi's heart clenched at Jimin's words, a pang of guilt washing over him. But still a large part of him was thinking why it is not enough.

“She can work with me once she’s better.” The doctor interjected. Yoongi's gaze shifted towards Seokjin, a flicker of hope igniting within him at the suggestion.

"You think she'd be up for it?" Yoongi asked, his voice tentative yet hopeful.

“Ah hyung you’re so in the dark—” Jungkook remarked. Jungkook sighed, his gaze meeting Yoongi's with empathy.

“She needs to feel like she has a say in her own life, like she's not just living for someone else.” Where this newfound wisdom arose, Yoongi did not know. But he was glad for the support of his family men.

Hoseok placed a reassuring hand on Yoongi's shoulder, his expression filled with empathy.

“She knows so much about herbs, remedies, I think she’ll be happy to help Seokjin.” Yoongi's heart swelled with gratitude for Hoseok's insight. He hadn't fully realised the extent of Y/N's knowledge and interests outside of their marriage and that needed to change.

“Don’t tell her just yet.” The right hand man remarked.

“Yes, I want to give her more time to recover before we come back to the sanctuary.” The other family members murmured their agreement, a sense of solidarity and understanding settling over them. After all, at the end of the day it is a happy wife, happy life.

But months later, Y/N understood that if there’s even a slight possibility that the scarred leader will grow for better, it would be a painfully long process. She realised so once he returned with his knuckles all bruised and bloodied one night. She tended to them, and he was basking under her touch. Despite everything, she couldn’t ignore the humanity in his pain.

Her eyes rolled and a loud sigh followed when she understood what was the cause of his lapse of senses. He had let his frustration and anger take over him, but rather than put it out on everyone else like he was known for, he silently left his office to vent his anger elsewhere. She guided him to sit down after she asked the maid to bring her everything she needed to clean his wounds.

Yoongi watched her, his eyes filled with a mix of gratitude and excitement under her delicate touch. The feel of her hands, so careful and tender, was both a comfort and a torment. The imagery masking all the darkness that loomed over them, they would fool even the Lord himself that this couple is one of love.

They sat in silence, the only sound the soft rustle of bandages and the distant rumble of thunder outside. Yoongi closed his eyes, leaning into her touch. It was a small gesture, but it spoke volumes to him. She avoided him less and less. So why did he have to let his steam off so suddenly?

“You know—” she began, focusing on his other hand now.

“You’re not really setting a good example of “communication is the key ”, now do you?”

Yoongi's eyes flickered open at her words, a hint of guilt flashing across his features before he quickly masked it with a neutral expression. He couldn't deny the truth in her statement, nor could he easily articulate the tangled mess of emotions that swirled within him.

His mind drifted back to the hushed whispers, the concerned looks from Seokjin. Y/N was still fairly weak in terms of her health. Yet, he hoped that maybe, just maybe, she’ll come to tell him he’s going to be a father. Foolish of him, he knows. Selfish of him, he knows that too.

“I’m sorry, Dove.” He only muttered, forcing a kiss to her sphenoid bone, it was the only affection she rarely allowed him to show. Y/N knew that if she wanted to persuade him that she isn’t a flying risk, she’ll have to allow him to do more. She progressed slowly, with patience and space to breathe everything out.

The reason the young leader needed to vent his anger was obvious to Y/N. She heard the maid that so blatantly spied on everything she did, what she asked for, and whom she talks to on the telephone. Y/N was cautious, yet today, she had to ask for some feminine goods. She understood where his hope for a baby came from, he got himself to believe that once the monthly bleeding did not come the first, second nor the third month.

The young gal, however, knew that this has nothing to do with the possibility of her being pregnant. She still drank the remedy, just to be sure, and for her peace of mind as it bore too many demons already. The fourth month her body decided it’s time to function again and of course the devoted maid reported that right back to her husband whose hope for a child vanished.

“I was hoping we could go see Ma and little Bo Cheng before the wedding, I promised to teach him how to ride a ho—” she began her request carefully. Y/N had managed to negotiate Daiyu’s extended vacation in America with her young son and Kai, yet she couldn’t shake the strong feeling that Yoongi had only allowed such a thing to happen because he felt indebted to her at the moment. Her state was far more delicate than he thought and he desperately wanted to make her happy. The one thing she wanted the most, he couldn’t grant. Freedom.

“Would that make you happy?” Yoongi interrupted. He sighed, his eyes drifting to the window where dark clouds gathered on the horizon.

For the first time in what felt like an eternity, a small, hesitant smile tugged at Y/N’s lips. It was a fragile thing, easily shattered, but it was real. And in that moment, Yoongi vowed to himself that he would protect that smile, nurture it, and help it grow.

“Yes, it would. Maybe we could also pay a visit to Daiyu—” Y/N sucked her lips in and shyly smiled again. Yoongi nodded slowly. He sighed, leaning back in his chair, his fingers drumming against the armrests. The weight of their precarious situation pressed down on him, the knowledge that every decision could have far-reaching consequences hanging over them like a dark cloud.

“I’m not sure about that, sweetling,” he replied, his voice tinged with uncertainty. Her heart clenched, did he understand her intentions?

“You said you’ll give me the world, Yoongi. Why not this?” Y/N’s smile faltered, a flicker of disappointment crossing her features.

Yoongi’s gaze softened further, a mixture of regret and longing in his eyes. He reached out, taking her hand in his, his touch gentle and reassuring.

“I will consider this trip, but we have to be cautious now. War is looming on the horizon.” He explained, his tone serious.

“What do you mean war? You’ve just won one,” she challenged, her voice laced with disbelief.

“The world is a volatile place, Dove. Our battle was nothing in comparison to what is to come. The world will fight—” Yoongi’s expression darkened, the weight of their past victories suddenly overshadowed by the looming threat of conflict. Y/N’s heart sank at the mention of war, a cold knot forming in the pit of her stomach.

“Until we’re certain there’s no threat, I want us to remain in Korea, my love.” he declared, his final words.

Y/N’s heart sank at his words, but she forced herself to nod, understanding the gravity of their situation. The war threatened to consume them all, and they had to tread carefully if they were to survive. Y/N nodded slowly to his words.

“She wrote to you this morning, didn’t she?” Y/N couldn’t shake the feeling that she’s running out of time. If they were caught up in the chaos, she feared she may never leave this place. And with Yoongi’s resolve to remain in Korea, their window of opportunity grew smaller with each passing moment. It was worth the shot, he wouldn’t let her slip that easily if there’s an actual threat that the world’s will battle.

“She met someone,” Y/N added softly, her voice tinged with uncertainty of how Yoongi will react. He, however, already knew. There was nothing that would go past him or so he thought.

"She met someone?" he repeated, his voice tinged with false scepticism. Y/N's heart ached at the doubt in Yoongi's voice, but she held firm in her conviction.

“She’s a widow with a child, who—”

“Happy widow with a child—” she inserted herself into his remark. "She deserves it, Yoongi. After everything she's been through, she deserves a chance at love and happiness.”

“Daiyu is no longer tied to the syndicate. You promised not to meddle with her affairs unless she needs help.” She reminded him less gently, her voice tinged with a hint of caution.

“I intend to keep that promise.” Lie. He already knew the man who so openly started to court her. A sense of relief washed over Y/N as she watched Yoongi's resistance soften, even if it was pretended.

“The rain won’t stop pouring—” Y/N’s voice trailed off, a sombre note creeping into her tone as she glanced out the window at the stormy sky.

“How do you feel today?” Yoongi observed Y/N for a moment, his expression softening as he took in her weary demeanour.

“Better than yesterday.” She replied, her voice carrying a hint of resilience. Yoongi nodded, a sense of relief washing over him at her response. Despite the challenges they faced, he was grateful for every moment of peace they could find amidst the storm.

He noticed the subtle signs of improvement in her appearance. Her cheeks, once sunken and lifeless, now held a hint of colour, and the dark circles under her eyes seemed less pronounced. Her eyes sparkled differently, not with tears as of late. Whatever Seokjin is doing to help her, it is working.

“Have you slept well?” he inquired gently, his voice filled with genuine concern. From Monday to Friday, storms reigned over the hidden valley. Yoongi reached out, gently brushing a stray strand of hair away from her face, his touch tender and reassuring. Her dark hair grew enough to reach past her shoulders since the unfortunate event back in October.

“It wasn't the best, but it was better than before.” Yoongi nodded in understanding, his gaze lingering on her with a mixture of admiration and concern. He knew that even the smallest victories, like a few hours of sleep, were worth celebrating in their tumultuous world. After all the night terrors she endured for months.

“How’s working with Seokjin?” He knew how demanding their roles could be, especially in the midst of ongoing turmoil. Yoongi expected her to sigh just as softly as she always does, her expression to reflect the weight of responsibility, but none of that happened. Y/N smiled at him brightly instead.

Y/N's smile was like a ray of sunlight breaking through the clouds, momentarily dispelling the shadows that lingered around them.

“Work has been great. I've been able to help so many people—” she replied, her voice infused with a sense of optimism that Yoongi hadn't heard in a while. As she spoke, Y/N’s eyes lit up with enthusiasm, a stark contrast to the weariness that had plagued her in recent months.

“Did you know that punk, Jungkook, pretends to be sick every other day just to swing by?” Y/N’s voice was filled with amusement as she recounted the antics of the youngest of the seven. Though older than her, she did not feel any age difference between them two.

Yoongi couldn’t help but chuckle at the mention of Jungkook's antics.

"That sounds like him," he remarked, a fond smile playing at his lips. She continued, her words flowing freely as she recounted her experiences while working with Seokjin at the clinic.

“Seokjin has been a wonderful mentor,” she continued, her eyes shining with gratitude. “He’s taught me so much more than we actually studied at school—” Yoongi nodded in agreement, a sense of pride swelling within him as he listened to Y/N's tales of their work at the clinic.

“I remember this one young man who had sustained severe burns on his arms. The sight of his injuries was heart-breaking, but I could see the determination in his eyes to overcome the pain.” Y/N’s voice softened with emotion as she recalled the moment.

"We worked tirelessly to stabilise him, and when he finally regained consciousness, the look of gratitude in his eyes made all the long hours and hard work worth it. It was a reminder of why I wanted to be a nurse in the first place—to make a difference in people’s lives, no matter how small.”

Yoongi listened intently, his heart swelling with a mixture of emotions. He couldn’t help but feel a pang of regret for not allowing her to pursue her passion for nursing earlier.

He may not be able to undo the past, but he could certainly make sure that she had all the support she needed to thrive in the future. The youngest was right. She needed this, she needed to regain her purpose in her life. To be someone for herself.

He realised how much he had underestimated her need for work, how vital it was for her to have a sense of purpose and fulfilment. There was still hope and goodness.

Yoongi listened to all the stories she had to say as for the first time since forever, there were no tears, no screams, no tension in the air. Just the calm, steady rhythm of their shared breaths.

“You know,” Yoongi began, his voice soft, "I'm proud of you. Proud of everything you've accomplished and the progress you’re making. I should have let you do this sooner.”

“Can’t change the past now can we?” He nodded to her remark solemnly, squeezing her hand.

“Tell me more,—” he urged, eager to hear more about her work, her passion. He wanted to be part of her world just like she is part of his, to support her in every way possible.

Y/N smiled, her face glowing with happiness. “Well, there’s this little girl named Jang-mi. She’s been coming in for treatment regularly, and despite everything, she's always so cheerful—”

Y/N pulled her coat tighter around her, feeling the icy water seep through the fabric. Her breath came in shallow gasps, mixing with the cold air to form small clouds that dissipated as quickly as they appeared. She huddled beneath the overhang of a small alley, her body shivering uncontrollably. The once comforting weight of her coat now felt like a burden, soaked and heavy.

Her mind raced, a chaotic swirl of fear and desperation. The past few days had been a whirlwind of terror and confusion. She had trusted the wrong people, made alliances that crumbled under the weight of deceit. Every step she took seemed to lead her deeper into a labyrinth of danger and uncertainty. She couldn’t afford another mistake; the stakes were too high. The sound of her own heartbeat was loud in her ears, a constant reminder of the life-or-death game she was playing.

A sudden flash of lightning split the sky, casting stark shadows and illuminating the alley in a harsh, white light. For a brief moment, everything was clear and sharp, every detail etched into her memory. That’s when she saw him.

At the mouth of the alley is where he stood , his figure backlit by the brilliant light. He was drenched, his hair plastered to his forehead, but he seemed unfazed by the torrential rain. His presence was as menacing as ever, a dark silhouette against the night. His eyes, however, were what held her captive. They were dark, deep pools of unreadable emotion, reflecting the storm’s fury.

Yoongi didn’t move, didn’t speak. He simply watched her, his gaze intense and unwavering. It was a look she had seen before, one that sent chills down her spine. It was the look of a predator sizing up its prey. She knew then, with a sickening certainty, that no matter how far she ran, he would always be one step ahead.

Panic surged through her, threatening to overwhelm her senses. She pressed herself against the wall, the rough brick scraping her skin through the thin material of her coat. She needed to think, to find a way out, but her mind was a blur of fear and fatigue. The rain continued to pour, the cold seeping into her bones, making her limbs feel heavy and uncooperative.

Yoongi took a step forward, the movement slow and deliberate. His boots splashed in the puddles, the sound muffled by the storm. Y/N’s heart pounded in her chest, a wild, frantic rhythm. She felt like a trapped animal, cornered with no way out. The alley was a dead end, and Yoongi was blocking her only escape route.

“Y/N,” he said, his voice low and smooth, cutting through the noise of the storm. “You can’t keep running.”

His words were a cold, hard truth that she didn’t want to accept. But she had no choice. Every attempt to escape had led her right back to him, like a cruel game of cat and mouse. She swallowed hard, her throat dry despite the rain. She had to keep fighting, had to find a way to break free from his grip.

“I won’t let you control me,” she said, her voice shaking but determined. “I’ll find a way out.”

Yoongi’s expression didn’t change, but there was a flicker of something in his eyes—amusement, perhaps, or admiration for her defiance. “You’re stronger than I thought,” he said, taking another step closer. “But strength alone won’t save you.”

He was close now, close enough that she could see the droplets of rain clinging to his eyelashes, the way his clothes clung to his body. His presence was overwhelming, a dark force that seemed to consume all the light around him. She knew she had to act, had to do something before it was too late.

Summoning every ounce of courage, Y/N pushed off the wall and lunged towards him, hoping to catch him off guard. But Yoongi was ready. His hand shot out, grabbing her wrist with a grip like iron. She struggled, twisting and pulling, but he was too strong.

“Let me fucking go!” she cried, her voice breaking with desperation.

Yoongi pulled her closer, his other hand coming up to cup her chin, forcing her to meet his gaze. “You’re mine, Y/N,” he said softly, his breath warm against her skin. “And I’ll do whatever it takes to keep you safe. Even if it means protecting you from yourself.”

Tears mingled with the rain on her cheeks as she realised the futility of her struggle. Yoongi’s words were a chilling promise, one that she knew he would keep. She was trapped, caught in a web of his making, with no way out.

The storm raged on around them, but in that moment, all Y/N could feel was the cold, unyielding grip of the man she used to fear, and the inescapable reality of her situation.

Y/N woke with a start, her breath coming in ragged gasps as the remnants of the nightmare clung to her mind. Her body was drenched in cold sweat, and her heart pounded wildly in her chest. For a moment, she couldn’t discern reality from the dream, the vivid images of the rain-soaked alley and Yoongi’s menacing presence still haunting her.

It was a memory that was hidden in the back of her mind to resurface when she’s the most vulnerable. It had happened a few times already, her mind showing her each time she attempted to escape the scarred leader.

She took a deep breath and listened to the mix of crackling fireplace and raindrops outside. His eyes were on her petite physique, his hands holding a book he was reading while she took a well deserved afternoon nap. He put down his reading glasses and ran a hand through his hair, closing the book and turning her attention to her.

“Which one was it this time?”

She turned to see him sitting beside her, his eyes filled with worry. The contrast between the Yoongi in her nightmare and the one before her now was stark. Gone was the cold, calculating predator; in his place was a man who genuinely cared for her well-being. He did change a little. Or maybe he was like that before but his selfishness didn’t allow him to show her his bright side.

Her legs moved to his lap when she was asleep, and he gently rubbed circles into her ankles, his touch soothing for once.

“Will you keep me safe?”

Yoongi's expression softened further, his gaze unwavering as he looked into her eyes. He knows that there were moments that haunt her till now. Moments he let happen with his cockiness.

“Always,” he replied, his voice steady and filled with conviction. “I’ll keep you safe, no matter what.”

“I just... I don’t want to be afraid anymore,” she admitted, her voice breaking slightly.

“Just rest, Dove,” Yoongi murmured, his voice a soothing balm to her frayed nerves. “I’ll be right here.”

After a few silent minutes, Y/N broke the calm silence.

“Can we play the piano?”

He hesitated for a moment, then nodded. Together, they moved to the old piano in the corner of the room. As they sat side by side, their fingers tentatively began to touch the keys. Each note was a delicate thread, weaving together a tapestry of their unspoken emotions. The music became their secret language, a way to say everything they couldn’t put into words.

Every time she did not feel like speaking herself, they played. Until she felt better. Yoongi played with a gentle intensity, his fingers dancing over the keys with practised ease.

He was a better player, so she thought. Afterall, he had had more life to practice.

The medication made her more open to him. Sooner or later she’ll have to get off of it before it will become her only source of happiness. There were days it made her sleep well, drink, eat, breathe and live like the person she used to be. And there were days she sat in front of her vanity mirror knowing this effect is only temporary.

She cannot afford to get off of them while she’s remaining by his side. Her being would not take it and the prospect of freedom would be scarce. It blunted negative emotions which worked in the scarred boy’s favour.

It was working, but it was a question of time when she’ll develop tolerance and they won’t work anymore. That’s why Seokjin is desperately trying to convince Yoongi that he’ll have a way to help her. Permanently.

Yoongi knows that it would be just another mistake he would have to write under his name.

“I’ll always keep you safe,” he whispered again, his words a promise and a plea. And in the quiet aftermath of their duet, she almost believed him.

In that fleeting moment, she wasn’t running, and Yoongi wasn’t chasing. They were simply two souls, lost in the music, trying to find their way back to each other. One more than the other.

His hand moved to cover hers on the keys, their eyes meeting in the stillness that followed. The world outside ceased to exist, the rain and the fire a distant backdrop to the intensity of their shared gaze.

Slowly, almost imperceptibly, Yoongi leaned in, his breath mingling with hers. Her heart raced, not with fear, but with a different kind of anticipation.

Their faces were inches apart, the unspoken words hanging in the air between them. His eyes flickered to her lips, then back to her eyes, seeking permission, seeking assurance. Y/N’s breath hitched, her mind a whirlwind of emotions.

“Unnie?!” Xiaoli's voice rang out, bright and oblivious. “We need to talk about—”

“Can you keep me safe from my own sister?” She scoffed playfully. His chuckle bounced on her lips as his lips still hovered just a breath away from hers, the paper door swung open with a sudden, sharp creak.

Taehyung stepped in behind her, his eyes widening as he took in the scene. "Oh. We’re... interrupting, aren’t we?”

Yoongi pulled back slightly, his expression darkening as he turned to face them. Y/N felt the moment slipping away, the fragile connection disrupted.

“What is it?” Yoongi asked, his voice strained with barely concealed irritation.

“You invited us to have dinner, Hyung.” Taehyung reminded him, his tone a mix of apology and amusement.

Xiaoli’s eyes darted between Yoongi and Y/N, realisation dawning on her face. “Oh... we’re really sorry. I didn’t mean to barge in, Kkangpae Min.”

She apologised, still not her but always to him and him only. Y/N forced herself to smile. The woman that her sister became is not the same one she grew up with.

“There was nothing to interrupt, don’t worry,” she waved it off and Yoongi sighed, the tension in his shoulders evident.

The fleeting moment of intimacy with Y/N hung heavily in his mind. Before, during and after the dinner. He was extravagantly close to feel her lips on his again, just for the moment to be swept away.

Dinner was a mix of awkward silences and forced conversation. Xiaoli and Taehyung tried to lighten the mood, but the air was thick with unspoken words.

Yoongi, for his part, seemed distant, his mind clearly elsewhere. Every so often, his gaze would meet hers across the table.

“Will you come next week?” Xiaoli asked, sipping her wine.

Y/N, momentarily distracted from her thoughts, looked up.

“Next week?”

Y/N glanced at Yoongi, who was already looking at her. She hesitated, unsure of committing to anything he did not allow earlier.

“Yes, Y/N promised Bo Cheng to teach him how to ride a horse, and I have some business to attend to.” Yoongi cleared his throat, breaking the silence.

“I could teach him,” Said Xiaoli, a bit jealous that their brother wanted Y/N to teach him when she was right there in the hotel.

Once Xiaoli and Taehyung will be with each other for eternity, the family of three then, will take their leave back to China.

The Triad leader attended his own business trips while his wife and children stayed with the “allying” clan.

He doesn’t know. None of them knows what Y/N did to herself, apart from Xiaoli, who herself doesn’t know every detail. They spreaded white lies to cover this “lapse of senses”. A misstep. Y/N hides the fading scar carefully to avoid any explanation. She wished to not tell them, and the kkangpae did not object to her wishes anymore. Whatever she wants, she gets. Usually, most of the time if she’s reasonable and clever about it.

The past months painstakingly helped them to get better. Or so Yoongi thought. Her priority was never to be his good wife, her priority is him thinking she will be his good obedient loving wife and when he won’t expect her to seek freedom anymore — she’ll disappear.

“I don't know about that, honey. You remember that nasty fall you took last year?” Her husband-to-be said nonchalantly. Y/N furrowed her brows in confusion.

“Fall?—“ she asked, doubting his words.

“What are you talking about?” Xiaoli herself was surprised at his words. She did not recall any falls. Y/N knew Xiaoli isn’t the best rider, but she was decent enough to hold any situation that would make her fall from the horse under control.

“I don’t remember that,—” she said, taking another long sip from her glass.

“You’d certainly remember falling from a horse. Why don’t I know about this, Yoongi?” Said Y/N turning herself to the quiet man.

“I was having a hard time keeping you here as you loved to go for a run back then. It must have slipped my mind—“

“My sister falling from a horse slipped your mind?”

“He did not know Y/N, until a lot later. Right, Hyung?” Taehyung smiled sweetly at her, defending his Kkangpae. As always. Y/N clicked her tongue and gifted Yoongi with a penetrating stare creating another layer of tension in the room.

He shifted uncomfortably in his seat. He cleared his throat, attempting to gather his thoughts. The last thing he wants is to mess up their relationship again.

“You’re right, love. I should have told you once I got to know that,” Yoongi admitting guilt is a new trait he acquired these past months.

“How did she fall?” Y/N aimed her question at Taehyung as her sister clearly doesn't remember it.

“It wasn’t probably that bad if I don’t remember it, Unnie. Don’t worry about it anymore—“ the younger female answered before her fiance had the chance to do so.

Y/N sighed loudly but the hand under the table that was gripping her younger sister’s thigh was not seen by her eyes.

It was hard to keep focus, especially with Seokjin constantly needing her assistance at work. His stern demeanour and meticulous nature kept her on her toes, but she appreciated the distraction. She knew why she was at his beck and call. Yoongi demanded so. Under any circumstances she ought to be next to Seokjin.

The ambulance in the sanctuary was significantly smaller than the big sanitorium in the town, but there was still some work to do here too.

“What’s on your mind?” he asked, leaning back in his chair and studying her intently.

“The usual,” she murmured, filling today’s report. Seokjin watched her for a moment, then brought the courage to ask.

“Have you been intimate?” Y/N dropped the pen at once and with wide eyes. She stared at him. The question came out of nowhere nor was it called for.

“Wh-what do you mean intimate?”

“Exactly what I said,” he replied calmly, not breaking eye contact.

“Have you been intimate with Yoongi again?”

“I don’t see how this is your business, Seokjin.” She felt her face flush with heat, a mix of embarrassment and anger.

“I’m not trying to pry. I’m your friend, but I’m also your doctor, sweetling—,” he said softly.

“Your health and well-being are my concern,” Seokjin explained. “And you know that if something’s affecting you emotionally or physically, it could impact your health.”

Bullcrap, he is in fact prying.

She was silent for a minute, trying to comprehend how he is taking care of her being this late. If she wouldn’t attempt to kill herself, these concerns wouldn’t be as great. But Y/N cannot afford to break havoc. She can’t go on rampage as she wants every single person here to think that she is moving towards being a good obedient wife of the Kkangpae. Even though she wants to scream to each and one of their faces about how much they failed her. How much they hurt her. Yet, patience is the key. Breathe, sleep, eat, endure.

She shifted uncomfortably in her seat, then decided to change the topic.

“What about your wife?” Seokjin’s eyes flickered with surprise before he masked it with a neutral expression. Y/N barely knew the woman. Matter of fact she has seen her maybe three times since the wedding.

“Very much pregnant,” he said, his voice a mix of pride and weariness.

“Oh,” Y/N replied, taken aback. “I didn’t know. Congratulations, I guess.” Here comes another thing that Yoongi managed to keep from her.

“Thank you, my dear,” Seokjin said, a small smile touching his lips. “It’s been… an interesting journey, to say the least.”

“I can imagine,—” Y/N said, sensing there was more beneath the surface.

“Can you imagine yourself on that journey?” Seokjin interrupted, his gaze searching her face.

She pretended that the question took her by surprise, looking down at her hands to not give herself away.

“I don’t know,” she admitted softly. He is testing her. “It’s hard to think about that kind of future with everything that’s going on.”

Seokjin nodded, his expression thoughtful. “It’s understandable. But it’s something to consider. Maybe a baby would help you to shush your demons away.”

Y/N’s heart raced at the suggestion, and she forced herself to maintain her composure. “I… I don’t think a baby is the answer, Seokjin. There’s so much I need to sort out first.”

“Sometimes, having something to focus on, something to live for, can make all the difference,” Seokjin said gently.

She nodded, still feeling uneasy about the direction of the conversation. Opting not to give more than she would want to by not answering his remark and going back to finish the report.

“Just know that you have options. And that you don’t have to go through any of this alone.”

“Thanks,” she replied, offering a small smile. “I’ll keep that in mind.” Of course she won’t.

Y/N entered the dimly lit room where Yoongi was sitting, his face illuminated by the soft glow of a lamp. He looked up as she closed the door behind her, his expression softened once he looked up from the papers. The office in the sanctuary remained the same apart from the fact that now the young Kkangpae occupies it far more often than before.

He took his glasses off and pushed himself away from the desk creating a space for her to come and stand in front of him, leaning against the massive wooden desk. Her hands felt the warmth of the wood that had been heated by the lamp, reflecting the same heat that radiated between them.

“Did you ask Seokjin to put thoughts into my head?” she asked, her voice steady despite the turmoil inside her.

Yoongi sighed, running a hand through his hair. “I didn’t ask him to, but I knew he would at some point try to give you some wisdom. What did he say?”

“That a baby would be the right treatment for me,” she replied, her voice tight with frustration.

Yoongi’s eyes widened slightly, then he closed them and exhaled deeply.

“I’m sorry, Dove—“

“Do you think that too?” she asked, searching his face. “That a baby would magically fix everything?”

Yoongi shook his head, stepping up from his chair and closer to her. “No, I don’t. A baby isn’t a solution to our problems—“ she didn’t believe one word that was coming out of this mouth. He wouldn’t break his knuckles this hard if he didn’t want the baby that Y/N took care of not happening anytime soon. Her system was full of herbal remedies. And now that she knows, the herbs flowing in her system are working, she can use that to her advantage.

“But that would make you happy right?” She countered, seeing through him. Softening her mimics to appeal to him.

“Well, yeah, I want a family with you someday—“

“Someday? The bandages on your knuckles says that you’re pretty eager to have it now—” she scoffed and murmured under her nose.

Yoongi’s eyes for once reflected something she couldn’t quite recognise. There was a mix of desperation and longing that flickered there. His hand reached out, trembling slightly, and cupped her cheek gently.

“Dove, I want us to be happy, truly happy. But I know bringing a child into this world won’t erase your pain or solve our problems. We need to fix ourselves first—” His thumb brushed her cheek tenderly.

“I’m sorry for being selfish, my love,” she felt a tear escape her eye, rolling down to where his thumb could catch it. She closed her eyes for a moment, leaning into his touch because that’s what always softens his edges.

After months, she has learnt what strings to pull to make him move just the way she wants to. Yet, Y/N knows that he isn’t that stupid to believe she suddenly wants to live with him happily ever after.

“I can pour us some wine. We can play the piano after dinner, hm?” He could feel her vulnerability, her heart laid bare before him. Or so he thought as she wanted him to think that. His hand continued to caress her cheek softly, his touch gentle yet laden with unspoken longing she sensed each time he attempted to get closer to her.

She nodded, a small pretentious smile playing on her lips as she stepped closer to him. The tension between them lingered.

He pulled her closer, his lips brushing against her forehead. “We will be good. We just need time with each other.”

He sat first, patting the space beside him, inviting her to join. Her fingers brushed the keys, eliciting a soft, mournful note. A melody that echoed in her mind far too often. An anthem for hurting. Weeping symphony, tears of sorrow.

He became far too respectful towards her boundaries which essentially was ruining all of her plans. Her fingers pressed the keys with delicate touch even when she wanted to smash them rock hard.

“Why this song?” She let the question hang in the air for a moment, her fingers poised above the keys as if weighing his words.

“Do you know what they interpret it as?” She finally said, her voice soft, barely audible above the lingering notes. Her eyes, once masked with a facade of calm, now revealed a flicker of the anguish she carried.

“Tell me,” he flipped the page of the notes book for her to continue the song.

“It’s a tale of unspoken grief, of wounds too deep to heal and shadows that never leave.”

He felt a shiver run down his spine as she said that. Part of him understood what message she was trying to leave and part of him wished he’s wrong.

“I view it as love lost and dreams shattered. They say it’s a lament for those who wander through life carrying burdens no one else can see.”

He carefully listened to all her words, all the notes she played, all her feelings she shared. Her fingers moved over the keys, each note a whisper of sorrow.

“The scars I carry inside,—“ His hand reached out to touch hers, a gesture of comfort. Stopping her from playing more.

“Let me help you carry that weight—“

“You created it in the first place.”

His eyes widened, a mixture of guilt and realisation flooding his expression. She pulled her hand away.

“The scars I carry, the emptiness I feel, they all trace back to you.”

His mind raced to comprehend the depth of her pain, trying to understand her intentions. It’s not like he ever expected her to say it out loud.

“You created emptiness in me Yoongi—“

He felt his heart clench with guilt and regret. “I’m so sorry,” he said, his voice cracking. It was nothing new. She heard his apologies but she was yet to accept them

She turned back to the piano, her fingers resting on the keys but not playing. “Intentions don’t change the past,” she said softly. “The pain remains—“

“But the future can learn from mistakes.”

“I will. I’ll learn—“ He began before she interrupted him.

“You need to fill the space now.” His eyes lit up listening to her words. In his mind, this was it. The holy grail. In her mind, she was wrapping him around her finger before she would bounce away like a pebble on the pond.

“Heal me if you must.”

These were her last words before the distance between them shrank, the intensity of their emotions drawing them closer. He leaned in, his heart pounding in his chest that she could almost hear it but Y/N didn’t pull away.

Their lips met in a soft, tentative kiss, a delicate brush that spoke of apology, of yearning, and of promises yet to be fulfilled. Her heart cried and the song remained echoing in her mind.

As they pulled back slightly, their foreheads resting against each other, Yoongi felt a warmth spread through him, chasing away the cold shadows of regret. She looked at him, her eyes shining with unshed tears. His thoughts were swirling with one thing only — this was the real beginning of them. And it was the beginning.

The beginning of the end.

I N T E R L O G U E

The walls were lined with bookshelves, each shelf overflowing with dusty tomes and old papers. A large, ornate desk stood in the centre, its surface cluttered with stacks of documents.

Seokjin rarely sends her to this room as they also rarely stay in the hanok the sanctuary has for medical assistance to those who live here.

She approached slowly, her fingers brushing over the worn leather of a chair before settling on a stack of yellowed files that he asked to bring. It was then when her eyes caught the opened crimson red files that laid flat open on the desk. The ones that the doctor forgot to take with him the other time he had to run and tend to the lady of the house in the middle of the night. They stayed there, laid open, for several weeks. Touched by a thin layer of dust on top of it.

Kim Seokjin is renowned in his field of practice. Yet, this was going to be his great mistake. Inside, there were detailed medical records, notes written in a precise, almost mechanical hand. The words on the pages made her stomach churn—phrases like “prefrontal lobotomy,” “behavioural correction,” and “psychosurgical intervention” leapt out at her. She read on, horrified by the cold, clinical descriptions of procedures that seemed more like torture than treatment.

Her hand flew to her mouth to not let the wailing cry away.

Trembling, she pushed the file aside and reached for the next one. Not bearing what they’ve done to her sister. Y/N’s hands shook as she read through the files, each word a dagger to her heart. The clinical detachment with which the procedures were described made her feel sick. These were not just medical records—they were accounts of inhuman experiments carried out in the name of science, or more so — control.

The name on this file was all too familiar, it was Jin’s wife. He must have done it before the wedding as she seemed far too calm. Her heart pounded in her chest as she opened it, fearing what she might find. The contents were similar—detailed accounts of medical procedures, records of a lobotomy performed in a desperate attempt to “cure” her of what the notes described as “hysteria” and “unmanageable behaviour.”

Y/N felt a wave of nausea wash over her. She stumbled back from the desk, her mind reeling from the revelations. The room seemed to close in around her, the shadows deepening as the weight of what she had discovered settled on her shoulders.

The name on the empty file under those made her anxious, hysteric even more as the tag had Min Y/N written on it.

She wiped her tears but they couldn't stop falling.

“Y/N?”

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©pennyellee. please do not repost

Love you all!! ♥

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keep in mind - I'm not an expert on chinese, korean and japanese culture, but I tried to research everything realistic I wanted to add to the story. Nonetheless, take it as a fiction. Nor in this case, I'm a medical professional.

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[queenpiranhadon]

A/N: okay NOW two more chapters left lol because chapter seven is turning into a pain to write 😭 Luckily school's out for the summer so I have more time to write :) TY @cashmoneyyysstuff MY ICON ILY Here's the masterlist!

Warning(s): Cursing, reader is the daughter of Aizawa, Shinso and Eri are biological siblings, reader is 20 years old, reader befriends Kaminari and Sero, Reader uses "Cattus" as her alias, reader's nicknames are Cactus, Cattus and Cat, reader's down bad LMAO, war, reader gets hurt, blood, reader wears a bra, bad war descriptions lol what do you expect from me, reader is AFAB and female, bakugou finds out 😀👍, ANGST, reader goes home, family reunion, Aizawa gets sick from grief, PTSD, KATSUKI'S NOT SEXIST I PROMISE

Pairing(s): Bakugou Katsuki x Reader

ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ ꜱɪx: Cattus

Time seemed to stop.  

The red color of his eyes, such a warm color, turned so cold. 

“Y-Yer a fuckin girl?!” he spat, aghast, disgust clouding his features, he turns away, refusing to look at you. 

You couldn’t even more, nor speak. 

How could you have been so careless? 

Bakugou lets out an irritated snarl and looks back at you briefly. 

“If the others find out, you’ll be killed.” he says, tone icy and filled with venom. Your heart drops.  

“I-” 

“Get changed and get out.” He cuts you off, not wanting to hear what you had to say. “Now I don’t owe you anything.” 

He exits the tent swiftly, as if he couldn’t even stand to be in the same room as you. 

*** 

You were given a horse, and nothing else, leaving without saying farewell to your friends. They would be informed that you had died, and that your body was being disposed of.  

It gave you an icky feeling, faking your death- which was weird, considering you left your family in a similar manner.  

As far as they knew, you might as well be dead.  

Would they be happy to see you? 

The same thought had plagued your mind for days now, yet you never imagined they would come to reality so soon. Your heart sinks with the realization that as of now, you basically let down everyone you knew.  

A tear slips down your cheek, from your discharge, and from that loathing look in Bakugou’s eyes.  

Stupid feelings.  

You knew it would end badly when you found yourself falling for the captain, but just the acknowledgment wasn’t enough to prepare you for the pain brought on by your heart being ripped in half, only for those halves to be shattered beyond repair. 

It was moronic of you to even be feeling these things, just as it was to crush on your superior like you were a schoolgirl and not a warrior.  

But at least now, you didn’t have to pretend.  

You weren’t going to lie, you were going to miss Genken, Denki, and Hanta.  

But now, you were Y/N. And though you were yourself again, there was no doubt Cattus would still be a part of you.  

He always was, you reckoned.  

Cattus was the fiery side of you that defended his (?) friends when they needed protection. He was the side of you that took charge and cared for your family when they couldn’t take care of themselves. Cattus was a warrior. 

And you were too.  

Tightening your grip on the reins, you will your horse to go faster, riding into the night, returning home to your family for the first time in months.  

*** 

You found yourself staring at the border of your village after 5 days of travel, the sun setting and your brain half asleep, running purely on adrenaline.  

It was lightly snowing, signs of winter’s presence, though the cold didn’t nip at your skin as much as it used to before. 

Pain didn’t feel the same anymore after what you’d been through.  

Your wound still stung, but you refused to acknowledge the pain- telling yourself you deserved it after everything. Is this how your dad felt after the war? You didn’t know. Though your situations were vastly different, one spending more time fighting than the other, and one almost convicted of a war crime, you knew that the pain was all the same.  

But right now, you didn’t feel pain.  

Instead, anxiety clawed at your heart, dismounting your steed to let it graze freely among the nearby fields, where other horses resided nearby. He would be fine living there with his new friends.  

You walk along the streets of the village you grew up in. You’d one been gone for 7 months now, and yet it felt so foreign to walk down the cobbled streets you walked across so long ago. When you find your home, a pang of sadness washes through you- it looked so empty and lifeless now. You missed you family dearly during the past few months, and yet you refused to acknowledge the feelings because they were a sign of weakness. 

But here you were now, a truckload of emotions crashing into you as you walk up the steps to your porch, the same steps you sat on when you had the conversation that started all of this. The wood creaked under your feet, a sound so familiar and so wrong at the same time. 

So much had changed over time- it was hard to feel like yourself again.  

You gingerly placed your hand on the doorknob, feeling the bumps, ridges and crevices you memorized, your pounding heart was deafening as you sucked in a shaky breath and finally opened the door.  

It was quiet. There wasn’t a buzz of the happiness and joy that you always felt in your home, instead it felt null and void.  

The first thing you notice is the figure sleeping on the couch.  

Hitoshi. 

Your younger brother looked exhausted, the dark circles he usually sported were now so prominent that it was unhealthy. He was skinnier, and a little taller, your heart ached to know that he wasn’t eating well and that he had grown up and you weren’t there to see him.  

Making your way over to him, you brush his hair out of his face softly, only for him to startle and jolt upright, freezing as his lavender eyes widened it realization that it was you.  

He slowly brings a hand to cup your cheek before patting the rest of your body, as if to ensure you were genuinely there.  

“Y/N...” he croaks, tears spilling from his eyes. “Is it really you...?” 

You want to sob, he sounded so broken, so helpless, guilt threatening to consume your every being. Tears slip from your eyes as you nod, letting out a choked laugh as he encircles you in his arms, whispering “You’re home... you’re finally home...” more so to himself than to you, as if to ground him. 

You and Hitoshi end up falling asleep on the floor that day, and you numbly allow him to redress your wounds and receive an ear load of yelling and scolding from your actions the next morning. He isn’t furious as you expected, however, he was extremely worried though.  

“W-What happened while I was gone...” you murmur, refusing to look at him as you sit on the side of your bed.  

“It’s...been a lot...” he sighs, telling you to get comfortable as he fills you in.  

Hitoshi had slept in the living room every night, in hopes that you would come home. At first, he slept on the porch, but Eri insisted he sleep inside saying that he was only harming himself. It was true, as he had gotten a nasty cold the next morning, leaving the ticked off 9-year-old to take care of him.  

Eri was upset with your departure, rarely going out after you left and taking up the chores you did to maintain the household, even though Hitoshi insisted he could do it. She slept in your bed every night after that and was currently sleeping as you and your brother were catching up. 

Your father, however, was a different case. He fell apart after you left, never talked, never ate – Hitoshi was terrified and had asked Hizashi for help, the usually humorous blonde now deadly serious as he and your father had gotten into a terrible argument. The only thing your brother was able to hear was “I lost my wife; I can’t lose my daughter too.” 

You sobbed uncontrollably as Hitoshi held you again, resenting yourself for the pain you caused your family, and resenting yourself for the hateful vermillion stare that you were sure would haunt you for the rest of your life.  

Though scalding tears burned through your skin, it didn’t hurt to cry as much as it used to. They didn’t feel suffocating, instead they felt liberating as you finally unloaded months of negative bottled up emotions.  

Your family was safe, thanks to you, and you were going to make sure it stayed that way.  

*** 

Eri wakes up a few hours later, her red eyes lacked their usual luster until they noticed you, the nine-year-old ran up to you and hugged you tight, her tears bleeding into your clothes.  

“Y/N...?!” she gasps in surprise, burying her face into your chest, inhaling deeply as if to memorize the way you smelled. Usually, it would have been weird, and uncomfortable considering you hadn’t showered in a week, but you allowed it, stroking her hair comfortingly, as a few more tears escape your eyes and roll down your face.  

“M’not going anywhere Banana.” you whisper, and she snorts and punches your arm weakly.  

“You know I hate that name.” 

You stayed like that for a while, before letting each other, drinking in each other’s appearance.  

“You look terrible.” she quips and you can’t help the laugh that erupts from your mouth.  

Eri and Hitoshi look at you in surprise – the you that they knew was more reserved, but they had to admit, they liked to see you let go more. You looked happier, and your joy was always contagious.  

Your siblings usher you into the washroom to finally shower, saying you smelled like shit (not really- if Hitoshi cursed in front of Eri you probably would’ve whipped out your sword) and you roll your eyes at their antics.  

You look into the cracked mirror on the way and get a good look at yourself- the first time you had to liberty to do so before you left.  

You truly didn’t look like Y/N anymore, you knew that much. But you didn’t feel like Cattus either. It was the strangest feeling, feeling like two people and neither at the same time. You sigh, dismissing it- knowing that maintaining another identity for so long would clearly have its side effects, but it was still uncomfortable to deal with.  

You were Y/N. But better. And happier with yourself.  

When you finally exit the shower, looking and feeling more like you, clean and in fresh clothes, a thought strikes you.  

“Hey... Toshi...?” You murmur, approaching the purplenette. “Where’s Dad?” 

Hitoshi looks away from you momentarily, before looking at you with sadness in his eyes. “He’s staying at Chiyo’s. Ever since you left, he hasn’t been eating well, and he’s been bedridden for a while. Hizashi says that he isn’t really stable for us to visit him.” 

You don’t listen to the last part- slipping on some random pair of shoes and bolting out of the house before heading over to Chiyo’s home.  

Your heart raced, in sync with your footsteps, one after the other.  

Your mind was even faster however- thoughts of worry and anxiety so strong you felt like you couldn’t breathe.  

Was your father okay? 

Was he mad at you? 

What if he doesn’t make it? It would be all your fault. 

As soon as your mind comes across the thought, your legs move impossibly fast, racing all the way across town until you reach the apocarthy center, also where Chiyo lived, and where she treated those in unstable conditions.  

You knock rapidly on the door, hearing a faint “I'm coming I'm coming...your generation is so energetic these days...”, the few seconds it takes Chiyo to open the door feel like a millennia each- as soon as the door opens, you see the small older lady look at you in surprise, but you pay no mind, slipping past her immediately and running down the hallway, turning the corner to find the room where Chiyo let her long term patients stay.  

And yet, you can’t bring your shaky hand to twist the doorknob and open the door. 

You feel terrible, knowing that any caring daughter should rush in immediately, but guilt wracks your mind, and your heart.  

You feel a hand on your shoulder and look down to see Chiyo looking up at you which a solemn look on her face.  

“He’ll want to see you, Y/N” she says softly, and you swallow thickly and nod.  

Twisting the knob, you finally push open the door and see your father sitting on a bed by the window. Turning his head, he sighs, “Chiyo, I told you I don-” he stops talking once he sees you. 

“Y/N.” he whispers, his voice shook and his eyes were wide.  

He was frailer than he was the last time you saw him, his skin that you always complained made him look half dead was now sallow and sickly. 

You walk over to him slowly and kneel in front of his bed, taking the man by surprise.  

“I’m sorry.” you sob, letting all the guilt and sorrow you felt wash over you. “I know I shouldn’t have left but I couldn’t just let you die.” 

You hear a small laugh and look up to see your father smiling while wiping incessant tears from his face.  

“Come, my warrior.” he says warmly. “You have made me proud.” 

*** 

It’s been a month since you returned home- news of the war spread through the village.  

You’d hear about the famed War Dragon and how he valiantly led his troop into battle, without losing a single soldier. It relieved you to hear it, knowing that Denki and Hanta were alive and well – but you still missed them.  

You reunited with Izuku and Ochako, both extremely worried but overjoyed to see you, nonetheless. Ejiro was still fighting for his country, and you missed him, worry bubbling in your stomach at the thought of getting hurt, but you trusted him. Ejiro was strong, and brave, no doubt a courageous soldier- he would come home.  

It was almost like everything was back to normal, but it wasn’t. 

You still jumped at everything, scraping a chair, someone’s limp brushing against yours, even a voice disrupting the silence, everything set you off.  

Eri was significantly more mature now, no longer the bubbly and hyper girl you knew, now more reserved and calmer. She reminded you of yourself, the knowledge was painful, but you were glad to see she retained her voracious appetite and distaste for bananas.  

Your father was recovering slowly, as you were now working overtime to stuff both him and Hitoshi with the food and nutrients, they needed to be healthy again. After you left, they deteriorated both physically and mentally, and so you decided to help them in any way you could.  

You tried your best to forget about the battle in the Chira Woods after that, but something just didn’t add up. 

How did the enemy know you were planning to ambush them? 

Taglist: @andysdrafts @starieq @nemisimp @missa-archdevilme @coquettefoxxy

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[solarecliipse]

if i dare to say !

akaashi keiji x reader.

a/n: sooo my laptop got broke, and i had a hard time getting it repaired, which is why this one's coming like a week later than it was suppossed to, but here it is! in some days i'll have the kageyama x reader too, so keep your eyes open. make sure to take care of yourselfs and get enough sleep :)

you can still remember the way he looked at you that day, eyes cold and distant, like a stranger wearing the face of someone you used to know. the words he said, the way he broke you apart, still echoes in your mind like a song stuck on repeat.

“it’s not working,” he had said, his voice devoid of the warmth that once embraced you. “we need to end this.”

you had asked him why, your voice trembling, but he only shook his head, refusing to give out any real answer. “it’s just better this way,” he had said. And then he walked away, leaving you standing there, with your soul shattered into a million pieces.

for weeks, you tried to understand what went wrong, replaying every moment in your head, searching for signs that you might have missed, but all you could find was more pain, more confusion, until you couldn’t take it anymore. you had to let go, even if you didn’t have all the answers.

months passed, and the wounds he left behind began to heal, slowly and painfully. you forced yourself to move on, to build a life that didn’t revolve around him. you surrounded yourself with friends, threw yourself into your work, and even began to rediscover the things that used to make you happy before he came into your life. it wasn’t easy, and there were days when the ache in your chest felt like it would never go away, but you kept pushing forward, determined to find yourself again, to be whole without him, even if it meant staying away from the things you shared.

and just when you thought you were finally getting there, he came back.

you were sitting at a café with a friend, yukie, laughing over some silly story she was telling you, when you saw him. he walked in as if he belonged there, as if he hadn’t ripped your heart out and left you to pick up the pieces alone. 

you froze, laughter dying in my throat. yukie noticed the change of demeanor and followed your gaze. “oh no,” she muttered.

 “what’s he doing here?” you ask in a hoarse voice.

“i don’t know”

he hadn’t seen you yet, and you had half a mind to slip out before he did, but it was too late. your eyes met across the room, and his face lit up with a smile that made your stomach churn.

he walked over, and you couldn’t help but notice that he looked just the same. same tousled hair, same easy smile, as if no time had passed, as if nothing had changed, but everything had changed. at least for you.

“hey,” he said, his voice annoyingly casual. “it’s been a while.”

“yeah,” you replied, your tone clipped. you wanted to say something more, something sharp and biting, but couldn’t find the words.

yukie glanced between you, clearly uncomfortable. “i’ll, uh, leave you two to talk,” she said, grabbing her purse and giving you a look that said, call me if you need an escape. you nodded, appreciating her unspoken offer, but stayed put. even if it hurt, you needed to hear what he had to say.

“so,” he began, once yukie was gone, “how have you been?”

you stared at him, incredulous. “how do you think i’ve been?” you asked, unable to keep the bitterness out of your voice.

he winced, as if the words had physically hurt him. “i know, i know. i messed up, okay? but I’ve been thinking about things, and i realized that i want us to be friends again.”

friends. the word hung in the air between you, heavy and unwelcome. you almost laughed at the absurdity of it. “you can’t be serious,” you spat, crossing your arms over your chest.

“i am,” he insisted, leaning forward as if that would make his words more convincing. “i miss you. i miss us.”

“us?” you echoed, shaking your head. “there is no ‘us’ anymore, remember? you made sure of that.”

he sighed, running a hand through his hair. “i know i screwed up, and i’m sorry for that, but I was going through a lot, and i didn’t know how to deal with it. breaking up was a mistake, i see that now.”

a mistake. that’s what he called it? a simple mistake, like forgetting to return a phone call or misplacing your keys. not the complete and utter devastation of someone’s trust and heart.

“well, it’s a little late for that, don’t you think?” you said, voice shaking. “you didn’t just hurt me, you broke me, and now you think we can just go back to being friends, like nothing happened?”

“i’m not saying we can go back to how things were,” he said quickly. “i just… i miss having you in my life. can’t we at least try?”

you looked at him, really looked at him, and for the first time, didn’t feel that old, familiar pull. the one that used to make you forgive him for everything, that made you overlook the things that hurt. instead, all you could feel was exhaustion, you were tired of fighting for something that was already dead.

“i don’t think we can,” you said quietly, finally admitting the truth to both of you. “too much has happened, and i’ve changed. i’m not the same person you left behind, and i don’t think you are either.”

he looked at you, his expression a mix of regret and something else you couldn’t quite place. “i understand,” he said after a long pause. “i guess i just hoped…”

“yeah,” you cut in, not wanting to hear whatever hope he had been holding on to. “well, we can’t always get what we want.”

he nodded, standing up slowly. “i’m really sorry,” he said, and for the first time, it was like he actually meant it. “for everything.”

you didn’t answer, instead looking away. what was there left to say? he lingered for a moment, as if waiting for you to change your mind, but when you didn’t, he finally walked away.

after he left, you sat there for a long time, staring at the empty seat across from you. and you should have felt relieved, maybe even proud of yourself for standing your ground, but all you could feel was a deep, aching sadness.

[pandora-writes-one-piece]

Who do you want to see featured in the next part of the meet-cute?

Sources for images: |Ace| |Kid| |Zoro| |Law| |Sanji|

The time has come! While we wait for the epilogue to Ace's Story and I get requests for my 100 followers event, I need you to start voting on who you want to see featured next in this series!

Here's the scenario, let's treat this like a multiverse! As if a different time-line emerges after reader has met all our main characters and we follow a different path. One where Ace has never happened and reader will find love somewhere else. A whole new story 🥰 So, who's next? Under the cut there's the summary and rom/com tropes I will use for each of the stories!

Kid - Kid is good with his hands. He knows how to fix things and isn’t afraid to get his hands dirty. Your heart is completely shattered and broken and - you think - beyond repair. Can Kid help you fix it? He does love a challenge. Trope: Tsundere Kid/Acts of Service. Protective Kid, embarrassed, caring, gruff exterior, soft interior. 

Zoro - You and Zoro quickly fall back into your old friendship routine, with lots of banter and playfulness. Until you are threatened and stalked  - at the same time as your father is in the hospital recovering from his back surgery. Zoro volunteers to stay with you in your house to protect you in case something happens. Trope: Who did this to you? Zoro has very strong protective tendencies. 

Law - You and Law start to build a flirty friendship because of your father’s procedure. So much so that when he’s invited to Baby 5’s wedding (his cousin), he asks you to be his date. His uncle Doflamingo - who is filthy rich - is very adamant on finding a suitable wife for him. Seeing as he wants to avoid that, he asks you to pretend to be his girlfriend for the weekend. Tropes: Fake relationship/only one bed. Law with very soft dom tendencies, possessive and protective.

Sanji - You get a job working in Sanji’s café and quickly become very good friends. You feel yourself growing more and more attached to Sanji, all the while fighting against those feelings because he is a Vinsmoke and you wanted to cut ties with them completely. When Ichiji comes back into town to look for you and try to win you over, he’s surprised to find his estranged brother in the middle of nowhere. And being so cosy with you. The question is, when you find out that Sanji is not a distant relative (as he claimed to be) but the brother of your ex, how will you react? Tropes: Forbidden Romance. Sanji is his usual protective, sweet and caring self. 

[riizecore]

the first snow.

idol! anton x fem! reader; a!

— witnessing the first snow together with someone you like may ignite true and everlasting love. but during the first snow, you may also tell a lie and you will be forgiven by the deities.

one way or another, your relationship with anton is bound to change- and that change is coming sooner than you might have expected.

the moon painted the skies with a glow, and despite the cold winter air, you can feel the warmth coming from everyone enjoying the winter carnival.

it was even more beautiful when the first snow began to fall. you extended your hand to feel the gentle caress of the snow against your palm. a white blanket slowly started to form beneath you and you can't help but think about the boy who is sitting beside you as you watched the scenery unfold. his eyes told you that he's equally amused and contented with everything that is happening at this exact moment.

this boy will be loved by millions and you were certain. just like the snow, he is pure, gentle, and he brings happiness to everyone whom he comes across to.

"anton," you spoke, fingers now fiddling with the fur of your coat, "do you know the myth about the first snow?" the male in question knitted his brows in confusion, "i think i know the most famous one about true love." he answered, perplexed at your sudden inquiry but obviously showing interest. "ah yes, the one about true love. very famous." you replied. anton looked at the evening sky, admiring the way how the moon lights up while you both try your best to ignore the frantic beating of your heart without the other one knowing.

"indeed. witnessing the first snow with someone you like may just grant you and your beloved true and eternal love. it's my favorite." sighing with a heavy breath, you continued "but i have another favorite myth. when the first snow falls, you can tell any lie and the deities will forgive you." he smiled, admiring the way how your eyes shone as you spoke.

anton admitted that he was helplessly in love with you a long time ago, and realizing that this may be the last holiday that you two would be spending together is breaking him beyond repair.

"i'm in love with you, anton." you confessed.

your words laced with sincerity and hope, made anton's heart to swell with warmth. he wanted to hear you say those words for so long, but with everything at stake, he can't tell you what has always been his truth- his heart belongs to you too.

you tried to meet anton's gaze, but he held his head down to prevent you from seeing the tears that will soon escape his eyes.

he balled his fists to prevent himself from giving in. he tried his best to ignore what his heart is telling him to do. he thought about how he worked hard, how he convinced his parents to let him pursue his dreams, and how he endured everything to get to where he is now.

if he tells you how he feels, there's no way that you'll both be content of just knowing that the both of you felt the same. you will want to love each other. surely, you'll agree to dating him in secret, right? but he can't do that you. if he loves you, he would give you the world.

because when he loves someone, he will always be there for them. he will give his all, and he will not ask for anything in return. that's the love that you deserve, and with him pursuing his dreams, with the distance that will soon stand in between, he's afraid that it won't work at this time.

his eyes found yours, making his knees tremble and his lips lost for words- but he had to speak, he had to lie, and even if the deities will forgive him tonight, he knows that he can never forgive himself for the words that will come out of his lips. "y/n, i don't know what to say, i-"

"lies. i just wanted to see your reaction." you laughed heartily, trying to sound alright "i was just trying to make this night more memorable so you won't forget me, after all, it would be difficult to get hold of you in the future." you continued, hiding the silent shattering of your heart into millions of pieces.

"how can i forget you?" you're my first love. he wanted to add. "we'll still see each other when i come home. i'll still send you memes and playlists. i won't forget you, i promise." anton swore.

"i will be your biggest fan, toni. now, go to korea, live your dream and make me proud, okay?"

his eyes darkened before he reached out for an embrace. for a moment there, you swear that you almost saw his soul breaking, just like how yours did.

you lied. you have been in love him since you can remember. he lied. he was lying all the time. he didn't want you to know that you owned his heart.

neither of you will ever know, that the lies you told each other that night will never be forgiven by the deities who listened.

🧋🪨🐸🎸🫧💂🦕

©️ riizecore 2024

i know that it's not yet even winter but this story has been on my drafts since talk saxy era so i had to release it from the dungeon. see you on the next update: taro is up next!

[wayfayrr]

I can't believe that I almost missed Sky's aniversary!!! happpy twelvth birthday to skyward sword! <3 I'd just like to say thank you to @yourlocaltreesimp for reblogging something that reminded me that today is the boys birthday - this peice is all because of them I wrote it in 40 mins so sky could have something for his bd before the date changes It's a continuation on my self aware sky fic with some headcanons and a small drabble under the cut about how the both of you celebrate his birthday <3

[masterlist]

✦ After about a month and a half of being with you, the both of you are quite used to living together. With Sky getting a grip on how to handle being a real flesh and blood person now - the both of you have even started on getting paperwork sorted for him to be recognised as a real person even if he’s never seen apart from your side

✦ The past few days though he’s had this energy around him, like a little kid excited for their - oh that's right, you’d almost forgotten the anniversary of his game was coming up. No wonder why he’d be so excited about it. 

✦ In the time it’s taken you to realise the date he’s taken his chance to be a little more clingy, you can blame nostalgia for him wanting to be closer. The feeling of the day he was created making him come to terms with just how lucky he was to be standing right next to you - his saviour lover. 

✦ If you were to do anything for him, say buy him gifts, treat him to an expensive meal, take him for a date, set aside the day for him or heck even spend the morning in bed cuddling with him? He’d fall for you all over just being flattered to the core over how much you care about him, if there was even a sliver of a chance of him loosing his possessive tendencies before that chance is shattered beyond repair now. You’re his and he’s never letting go.

✦ with how nostalgic he’s gotten, it’s not all that much of a surprise that he’s asked if he can play through the game on his own, with you sitting right next to him naturally 

“Are you sure about this Link? I mean I’ve not touched it since you well, since you crawled out. Who’s to say that he won’t figure it out as well?”

“It should be fine, what would be the odds of it happening twice? Besides if it does I’d bet he’ll feel the same way my dove.”

He’s not certain which is as clear as day, of course he doesn’t have a clue what could happen if he plays. What would happen if the version of himself he plays as hates him more than anything? If he gets jealous? If he tries to bring him back? Link hasn’t considered any of that, not that I can hold it against him. After that first day out of the game he’s mellowed out so much, it really was his desperation that made him terrifying - not that that doesn’t slip out every now and then of course. If he really wants to play? We’ll deal with the consequences of it together.

“If you’re really sure then love, want me to grab some snacks while you set up the switch?”

“I’d love that, thank you, darling.”

A soft kiss to my cheek is all that I need to become a blushing mess as he moves to turn everything on, including the new tv I had to buy after he shattered the old one, not too expensive but still more of a hassle than I wanted to have to deal with. Seeing as he’s never had any previous experience with any technology like this he’s picked it up like a natural, so in no time at all we’re back to sitting together on my couch to play. It’s nice like this, all gentle and domestic. If you didn’t know Link wasn’t originally a ‘real’ person you wouldn’t even be able to tell, he fits in like he was always supposed to be here with me. The clothes he’s nicked only adding onto that feeling of belonging like he’s just any other boyfriend stealing his partner's clothes. 

“Guess now is the moment of truth to whether or not I’ll be dealing with another nuisance stealing my heart then.”

“I wouldn’t let him take your heart, that belongs to me and only me.”

“Alright then, are you gonna make a save then my lovable anomaly or are you just gonna threaten someone you’re not sure even exists?”

“I’m making it my dearest player, I just had to make sure you were fully certain of where I stand.”

True to his word, he did make a save file - although he did name it something different than his own name - not before kissing me yet again though. Playing it with him was nice, seeing his reactions to his past where he didn’t have to get traumatised? It’s one of the sweetest things I've seen in a long while. It did seem I was right though, he didn’t manage to get to demise before we had a shocked link staring at the both of us like his world had been ripped apart. His reaction was so different to my link’s though.

He’s petrified. 

“Wh- What’s going on - who are you both – wh- wh-” … “And why do you look just like me?”

[pepi1989]

Can you write a mix of angst and fluff about having a really bad argument with Ben and not being on speaking terms? Like what happened, you getting frustrated and upset and both of you making up after?

Broken Words, Mended Hearts - Ben Shelton

The argument started small, almost insignificant, like it always does. But it snowballed faster than either of us could stop. I don’t even remember what set it off, something about him missing dinner because of a training session, but the moment we raised our voices, all the unresolved frustrations poured out.

“You don’t get it, Ben!” I shouted, pacing the living room. “I wait around, clear my schedule, and you don’t even have the decency to let me know when plans change? It’s like I’m the last thing on your mind!”

Ben’s face hardened, his brows furrowing as he crossed his arms. “That’s not fair. I told you I had practice, I can’t just drop everything because you want more time.”

I stopped, glaring at him, my chest tight with anger and hurt. “It’s not about time, it’s about effort! You don’t put in any. I’m always waiting on you, always compromising. Do you even care?”

That hit a nerve. Ben’s jaw clenched, his voice dangerously low. “Do I care? Seriously? You think I’m out here doing all of this for myself? I’m trying to balance everything, but nothing is ever enough for you, is it?”

His words stung. Deeply. My throat felt thick as I tried to hold back the tears threatening to spill over. “I just want to feel like I matter to you, Ben. Lately, it’s like I’m invisible. And when you do show up, you’re not really... here.”

He ran his hands through his hair, frustration clear on his face. “That’s not true. I’m doing my best!”

“Well, your best isn’t good enough!” I snapped, and the second the words left my mouth, I regretted them. But I was too mad to take it back.

Ben’s face fell. His hands dropped to his sides, defeated. “Fine,” he said coldly. “If that’s how you feel, then what are we even doing?”

The air between us felt like it shattered. The silence that followed was suffocating, and I could feel my heart breaking as he walked away, leaving me alone in the living room with nothing but the echoes of our words.

The days after that were unbearable. We hadn’t spoken since the fight. Every time I thought about reaching out, I’d replay those final words in my head, what are we even doing? and the guilt would wash over me, too heavy to shake off.

I kept my phone close, hoping for something, anything from him. But nothing came. And as the hours stretched into days, I couldn’t help but wonder if this was it. Maybe we were really over. Maybe the fight had broken us beyond repair.

I hated how much I missed him. His laugh, his warmth, the way he’d pull me into his arms without saying a word. But now there was just this aching void, and the longer it lasted, the more I feared we wouldn’t come back from it.

Finally, I couldn’t take it anymore. The silence was too loud, and I needed to know if there was still something left to salvage. So I grabbed my keys and drove to his place, my heart racing the entire way.

When I knocked on the door, Ben opened it, looking like he hadn’t slept in days. His eyes were tired, his hair messy, but beneath all that, I saw the same sadness I’d been carrying.

He didn’t say anything, just stepped aside to let me in. The tension was thick, but I didn’t care. I needed to talk. To fix this.

“I hate this,” I said quietly, my voice shaking. “I hate not talking to you.”

Ben exhaled, his shoulders slumping. “Me too. I’ve been going crazy.”

I took a deep breath, fighting back the tears. “I didn’t mean what I said, Ben. You’re more than enough. I was just scared. I don’t want to lose you.”

He moved closer, his hand reaching out to brush against mine. “You’re not going to lose me. I don’t want to lose you either.”

Before I could say anything else, he pulled me into his arms, holding me tight, like he was afraid I might slip away. His embrace felt like home, and the tension that had weighed on me for days melted away.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered against my hair, his voice soft and full of regret. “I should’ve tried harder. I should’ve listened.”

I sniffled, pressing my face into his chest. “I’m sorry too. I was so scared I couldn’t see how hard you were trying.”

Ben tilted my chin up, his eyes full of warmth. “We’ll figure this out. Together.”

His lips found mine in a kiss that felt like a promise, soft and slow, like we were sealing our commitment to each other. And when we finally pulled away, his forehead rested against mine, a smile tugging at his lips.

“Next time we argue, we’re not going to let it get this bad, okay?” he murmured.

I nodded, still clinging to him. “Deal. I missed you too much.”

He chuckled, the sound light and full of relief. “I missed you more.” His arms tightened around me, and I could feel the love in every word, every touch. “Let’s never go to bed angry again.”

I laughed softly. “Agreed. Though I might make you beg for forgiveness next time.”

Ben grinned, his eyes twinkling with that playful spark I loved so much. “I’ll do whatever it takes.”

We stayed like that for a while, wrapped up in each other, all the hurt and tension replaced by warmth and soft kisses. Everything felt right again, like we’d found our way back to each other after losing our way. I knew we weren’t perfect, but as long as we had each other, we’d always be okay.

[princessamericachavez]

Say Don’t Go | 911 7x10 spec

Based on the stills and my brain not shutting up

“I hate you!”

Christopher’s voice resonates through the hallway until his door slamming cuts it off. Eddie flinches and Buck’s heart breaks.

“Chris-“

Eddie moves half a step forward and Buck stops him by the shoulder before he can go after his son. It’s not going to help. If he knows anything about angry teenagers (having been one particularly angry himself) is that Chris needs a moment away from his dad.

The problem are those big brown eyes. Because when Eddie looks back at him, so lost and heartbroken and desperate, Buck knows he has to do something. Because this is wrong, it’s just wrong, and Buck knows he cannot fix everything for the people he loves but he cannot —will not— stop trying no matter how impossible it feels.

“Let- let me try and talk to him,” Buck asks.

“What?”

Helena and Ramon both turn to him with equal disbelief, but Buck doesn’t even bother looking at them. They’ve been so ready to take this opportunity to rip Chris away from Eddie. And, sure, they are worried and Eddie should’ve handled this a lot better, but they aren’t even giving him the chance. So he doesn’t look at them, he keeps his eyes on Eddie who gives him the smallest, pleading, nod.

That’s all Buck needs. With one final squeeze, he lets go of Eddie and moves across the living room with long strides before the Diaz’s can stop him.

Who does he think he is? What gives him the right to intervene? How dare he even be here? Whatever they are thinking, comes second to Chris and Eddie.

Buck knocks gently on the door.

“Go away!”

“H-hey, buddy, it’s me. Can I come in?”

There’s a long terrifying pause that nearly shatters what’s left of Buck’s heart before the reluctant “okay.”

With a relieved sigh, he pushes in.

Christopher is sitting on the edge of his bed, a packed backpack by his side. For a second, Buck thinks of another day, years ago, when he found him just like this. Back then, Buck’s biggest fear was that Eddie’s heart would stop. Today, he’s terrified it will break beyond repair.

“Hey, Chris.”

“Hey, Buck,” he says, looking down at his hands.

Awkwardly, Buck makes his way to the bed and sits on the edge next to the boy. He’s so big now, older and taller, but he can still see the same child that had to comfort him after the shooting.

“Chris, are you sure about this? Leaving your dad, even if it’s just for a while… that’s not going to fix things between you.”

“I don’t want to fix them,” Chris snaps, sharply. “He lied to me! He lied to Marisol, to you, he lied to everyone!”

And that’s not something Buck can argue.

“Yeah, he- he screwed up, Chris, but you need to understand.”

“I understand! Why would he that! He’s- he always told me to tell the truth and to be good but he was a liar.”

“Hey, hey, that’s- that’s not fair. One mistake doesn’t make him a liar. He just- listen, Chris, you know your dad loves you more than anything in the whole world, right?”

He’s met with silence.

“Right?”

Chris gives a noncommittal shrug.

“Right,” Buck nods. “Because he does. And he would never, ever, do anything to hurt you.”

“But he did! It hurt! Seeing her and thinking it was her… it hurt, Buck.”

“I know, buddy… I do. I just- I meant, he would never hurt you on purpose.”

“He had to know it would hurt.”

“He did. Which is why he lied…”

Christopher huffs and Buck has the horrible feeling he’s not being as helpful as he hoped. What was he thinking? Just because he loves Chris with his whole heart it doesn’t mean he knows the first thing about being a parent. He only knows what Eddie taught him.

The memory hits home like a wave. Sunlight, a warm hand on his shoulder, his heart twisting from guilt to relief and to something bigger he couldn’t name.

“You know, your dad isn’t perfect.”

“No, he isn’t,” Chris scoffs.

“He isn’t perfect,” Buck repeats, tone pleading Chris to let him finish, “and he knows it. He told me once himself, that he’s failed many times as your dad. But he also said that he loves you enough to never give up, to never stop trying to be better… for you.”

Chris is quiet, but by the way his shoulders hunch and his head tilts, Buck thinks he might be getting to him. So he pushes on.

“And- and the thing is, Christopher, your dad is very hurt right now. It’s- it’s nothing like the time he was shot… it’s something… deeper, older. Because, you see, when Shannon- when your mom died, it really hurt your dad. He loved her so much… and I don’t think he ever healed from it, not really. I think that’s why he did all this. Because he’s in pain…”

Christopher peers at Buck from under his curly fringe, reluctantly making eye contact.

“That doesn’t make it okay.”

“No, it doesn’t. But- but I think your dad really needs us right now. He- he needs you,” he corrects quickly. “This time, I think your dad needs you not to give up on him.”

“But I’m still mad.”

“And- and that’s okay. You can be mad. You get to be angry or sad or confused, I just- I just hope you can fight for your dad, like he does for you. Because, Chris, if he loses you… I think the pain will be too much this time.”

Chris is quiet. And Buck is exhausted.

“I don’t wanna make you feel responsible for him, Christopher. I promise, whatever you choose, I’ll have his back and make sure he is okay. I just- I think he needs both of us right now.”

“Why are you defending him? Aren’t you mad too? He lied to you too.”

“I- yeah, he did. But he’s my best friend, and I love him. I’m not quitting on him, he’s never given up on me.”

“Hmmm.”

It takes a couple minutes before Chris decides to get back up. Buck stays only because he isn’t asked to leave and, only when he sees the boy step outside does he dare follow cautiously.

In the living room, whatever Eddie was talking in hushed tones with his parents dies down immediately. He only has eyes for his son as he approaches.

“Mijo-“

“You have to promise that it won’t happen again,” Christopher demands, voice shaky. “You need to try to do better and you have to promise that you won’t lie to me again.”

Eddie walks towards his son like he is in a dream, eyes tearful. Buck can see him trembling even from afar, where he’s found a corner to tuck himself into and disappear.

“Christopher,” Eddie says, kneeling before his son and gently holding him, “I swear- te lo juro por mi vida. I will do better. I will- I will be better for both of us. I will spend every day trying to be a better father for you.”

“Okay,” Chris says.

“Okay?”

“I’m staying.”

Eddie leans forward to hug his son, but is met with a gentle push back.

“I’m still mad at you, dad.”

“Yeah, yeah, of course. Of course,” Eddie mumbles, but the relief in his voice is still palpable.

Eddie looks past Chris’s shoulder and his eyes find Buck. The look in his face… Buck knows Eddie like the back of his hand but he cannot quite place what it is. Thankfulness and relief and hope… but there’s something else behind it that makes Buck’s heart twist painfully.

So Buck looks away, tries to find something —anything— else to focus on and lands on the Diaz’s faces. Eddie’s parents look at him with… well, it isn’t quite anger, but there’s a confusion there and a bewilderment that somehow makes Buck even more uncomfortable. He ducks his head and beelines for the kitchen. He should let them be alone…

“Buck!” Eddie is rushing after him before he can get to the door.

When he turns around, he finds Eddie standing there, shaking and shocked. Buck waits, but Eddie doesn’t seem to have any more idea than he does about what he planned to say next.

“Sorry, I- I should probably go.”

Eddie takes a step forward, with that look still on his face.

“I’ll see you tomorrow, okay?” Buck goes on. “Just- just be with your son tonight.”

“You sure? You could stay.” Eddie steps closer.

“No, it’s- it’s okay. I wouldn’t want to intrude, with your family-“

“Buck-“

“And Tommy is waiting at my place, so…”

Eddie stops. He blinks.

“Right, yeah. Of course. Just- I- Thank you.”

Buck smiles, even if the air between them still feels charged.

“I have your back, Eddie. Always.”

And before anything else can get his head spinning he steps out the back door. Only once outside does he stop and finally breathe. That was… that felt like… but it cannot be. It wasn’t. Even if Eddie looked like he wanted to-

No, of course not. Better get going, before his heart can manage to fool itself once again.

[readychilledwine]

Enough

Reader is struggling after returning home from Under the Mountain. After the High Lords meeting, it has all finally become too much, leading to Rhysand having to comfort his mate and High Lady as her self-worth and panic come into play

Warnings- negative self talk, references to anxiety and depression, is being unedited a warning? Probably should be. 

Author's note- it's been a rough week, and I wanted to hear this from someone tonight. So, this happened, and maybe one of you needs to hear it too. 💜 you're not alone, and you are enough.

Rhys held his mate's hair back as she threw up for the 3rd time this evening. 

Since coming home from the place. She hadn't been herself. 

Little noises made her jump. 

Social interactions tended to lead to her crying.

Her mind would become blank and filled with white noise when she felt put on the spot or pressured.

She was constantly fidgeting with something. Her mind was constantly racing and trying to focus all at the same time. 

Her "focusing" became hyper focus, though. She'd focus on perfection. On overworking whatever task she was working on to death. 

Worst of all? She'd become a people pleaser. She was constantly trying to make sure all parties in situations were happy. Even to her own detriment.

And today, in her mind, she had failed.

She failed when Azriel attacked Eris. 

She failed when Feyre attacked Beron.

She failed to maintain peace. A task that was never assigned to her.

"Darling," Rhys whispered. "You did nothing wrong." He was in her mind and reading her through the bond as well.

Failure. Not good enough. Not worthy. Stupid. Ugly. Powerless. Over Emotional. Damaged. 

Damaged. 

Damaged goods. 

He felt his heart shattered piece by piece at the voice she heard those words in. His voice. Amarantha's voice. Her own voice.

"Darling, please." He rubbed her back. "You can not control what others do."

A loud sob was her response as she began to cry. "I can't be High Lady," she finally said in broken breaths. "I- The Night Court needs better. I can't even stop Azriel from attacking someone we have an alliance with. I-" Her voice trailed off, breaking at the end as she moved to lean against the wall. "I'm not good enough."

Rhys studied her tear soaked face. Her distant eyes. The look of defeat on her face. Amarantha had destroyed his once confident wife. "My love-"

"Swear in Feyre," her voice broke again. "I see how you look at her. I won't hold you back, Rhysand."

"Darling, what are you talking ab-"

"You deserve better than me. You can do better than me. I'm a broken toy you had fun with for a few hundred years, and now I'm beyond repair. I'm a burden, Rhys. I-"

Rhys finally lost it. Tears fell from his eyes as he interrupted her, "Y/N, you can not be serious right now. You are my mate. When you hurt, I hurt with you. When you bleed, I bleed with you."

He took a few breaths before forcing her into his lap and arms. "You are not broken. You are hurting. You are healing. I do not want, nor need, anything besides this. Besides you. There has never been anyone else but you."

He paused to take another calming breath. "I see into your head, your dreams, your heart. Darling, I know. I know you are struggling. I am, too. But I am here for you. I am here to listen, to hold you, to LOVE you through all of this."

"Rhys-"

"I am not done. You carry so much, my love. Too much. You are trying to hold the weight of the world on your shoulders, and it is destroying you. It is eating you alive. Let me shoulder the burden with you, darling. What happened down there does not change that you are my mate, my wife, my everything. I can not and will not lose you because of her." 

He listened to her shaken breathing and began rubbing small circles on her back. "What happened does not change that I love and support you. That I want to have a family with you. That you are the best damned Lady of any court in History. Even during our time there, your laws, your improvements, and your goals changed the Night Court, Illyria, and Velaris for the better."

He paused as she calmed down slightly. "Your work for the poor and underprivileged has started a movement and vast improvements, darling. Your work for females in Illyria is changing the more progressive camps daily. Your work for our family-" he chuckled lightly, "My love, we would not survive a day without you."

"But-"

"No. There are no buts in this, y/n. You are our rock, our anchor. You are the light in the darkness for our family. We would be lost without you, even on your worst days. But my love, even you, as powerful as you are, can not control what people do. You put so much pressure on yourself to do so, to make us all happy, and all you truly need to do to make us happy is be, y/n."

He stopped talking for a second as her watery eyes met his violet ones. "You just have to be, darling. You are enough. You are worthy. You are so loved. I love you. More than anything in this world, and above all else, I love you. I have loved you since we were children, and I will love you long after our children take over this Court.."

Her hand touched his face gently as she nodded, tears still falling. "You are enough, y/n. You will always be enough." She nodded slowly. "I love you."

"I love you," she repeated back. 

He leaned their foreheads together and repeated one last time.

 "You are enough, Y/n."

[levi-ackermvn]

happy friday !! i hope y’all are crying with me ( and sloane ) ‧º·(˚ ˃̣̣̥⌓˂̣̣̥ )‧º·˚ anyways, i will NEVER, EVER get over this beautiful, yet heart wrenching commission by the incredible koldangreyart on twitter (*^Д^*)ゞ thank you so much for constantly exceeding my expectations with every comm. it’s always a pleasure working with you <3

[ DO NOT REPOST, EDIT, OR TRACE!!! this artwork was commissioned for my fic so please do not steal it ]

[ this is an oc x canon post. if you do not like it, please kindly leave. any negative, hateful, or weird comments that has nothing to do with my post or fic will be deleted ]

unpublished excerpt below <3

Her gaze drifted aimlessly over the wreckage, each fragment a shapeless blur as she struggled to grasp the remnants of reality. A relentless throb pulsed in her head. A dense fog muddled her thoughts, pierced only by the persistent ringing in her right ear. Rain battered her face, mingling with the soaked grass beneath her. The cold droplets seeped into her skin.

The acrid scent of smoke invaded her lungs. Every inhale was a jagged knife, searing through her chest. Then, a more familiar odor pierced through the haze—something unmistakable and metallic, something she couldn’t escape all those years as a scout.

Blood.

Too much blood. 

Dread curled around her heart, its terrible grip tightening with each passing moment. Was this sickening stench coming from her? Was she the source of all the blood that tainted the air? Am I... dying? No. 

She had felt Death’s shadow before, beneath the Reiss family’s church. These current wounds she had, whatever they were, couldn’t produce such an overpowering smell.

If it wasn’t from her… where did it come from?

Her eyes searched the wreckage anew. A sense of urgency driving her as the throbbing in her head grew louder, desperate to uncover the source of the ghastly smell. Gradually, the shapes around her grew clearer, revealing a figure sprawled face down beside the riverbank, disturbingly still. Sloane blinked hard, willing her vision to sharpen. A green cloak, emblazoned with the Wings of Freedom insignia, crystallized into agonizing clarity. 

No.

A raw, anguished sound tore from her throat, shattering the very air—a wail she hadn't known she was capable of. Tears began to cascade down her cheeks, lost in the unrelenting rain as if the heavens themselves wept with her. Instinctively, she dragged herself toward him, each movement a searing torment as she sought to bridge the vast distance between them. The ache in her body faded into insignificance, now overwhelmed by an unspeakable fear. 

Please don’t be dead. Please don’t be dead. Please don’t be dead. 

The thought surged within her like a fervent incantation, imploring to whichever unseen force might grant her this one mercy.

Please.

Please don’t take him from me too.

Sloane had weathered the storm of loss time and time again, each one carving a deep, invisible scar. With each passage of sorrow, she was able to piece herself back together, little by little, until the raw pain softened into a distant memory. But… if he were to die, if he were to slip away from this cruel world they vowed to save together, leaving her to endure this unbearable fate alone, it would shatter her beyond repair.

She clawed her way through the mud. Her fingers dug into the sodden ground, feeling the soil beneath her nails. Once, this same earth had been a source of innocent delight, evoking the carefree days of her youth, where every inch of her had been joyfully smeared in the spirit of adventure.

Now, the sensation only made her skin crawl. 

Her cries grew frantic as she summoned all the strength she could possibly muster to bridge the distance between them. Each excruciating inch she covered felt like a thousand lifetimes, her limbs trembling with the effort.

Some part of her clung to the fragile hope that this was but a horrific nightmare. A cruel illusion from which she would awaken in the sanctuary of his arms, discovering him whole and well, just as he had always been.

Please let this be a dream. Please let me wake up.

But that hope dwindled away when she at last reached his side. With trembling hands, she carefully turned him over. The sight that met her eyes unraveled her completely.

Levi’s face, his beautiful face—a canvas she adored with every fiber of her being—was now barely recognizable. She could not see the arch of his brow, the creases of his forehead, or the slant of his mouth beneath the sea of red. The blood, a relentless tide, coated his pale skin, defying even the rain’s mournful efforts to cleanse him free of the stain.

She peered into his eyes, yearning to glimpse even a whisper of life within the familiar steel blue. One eye was ravaged and awash in crimson, yet both stared back with a haunting emptiness. 

The knife inside her heart twisted further.

Her sobs clamored in her ears, loud enough to deafen the rain’s ceaseless patter and the faintest of breaths that may still rattle in his chest.

[safedistancefrombeingsmart]

What did John say in his letter to Sherlock? We never find out and I regularly wonder what John could have written. Here's my version of John's letter.

(Also, this is my 1st time writing anything, so this is a bit nerve- wracking stressful. Not a native speaker, not beta'd/ britpicked, and so on.)

Warnings: nothing too bad, just a bit lot of angst.

Broken

You broke me, Sherlock. You broke me in so many ways and I don't know if I can ever recover from it.

I have been damaged before. By Mum and Dad, by Harry. Bit by bit, piece by piece I rebuild myself, every time. Then came Afghanistan and it broke me more than anything before, inside and out. It took away my career, my future and I was certain that I could never fix what the war took from me. I was ready to end it all, on my own terms.

But then I met you and to my surprise you could repair what I could not, not on my own. You gave me purpose and brought back joy to my life. I felt alive. Needed. Happy. I don't think I've ever been this happy before, and I am sure I never will be again. I was convinced that you would never do anything to harm my happiness. But you did.

You broke me, shattered me when you jumped off that damn roof. You crushed my heart into a million pieces when you leapt into inevitable death, when I saw your skull cracked open and your dead eyes and the blood. So much blood. I didn't know that it was just a magic trick. A lie. Why did you have to lie to me, Sherlock? Not trust me enough to take me with you? I would have gone everywhere with you, done everything for you. Everything. I think that's what hurt the most. You not trusting me. I trusted you. With everything I had. And you broke that trust by not trusting me.

I don't know how I managed not to fling myself off that same roof. Oh, I've thought about it. Many, many times. But I couldn't do it. I couldn't do this to Mrs. H. or Greg who had already lost a son (or close enough) and a friend. I could not be that selfish. Yes, I thought you were a selfish bastard. Doing that to us. To me. Even made me watch. Cruel doesn't even come close to describe what you did. Did you know that I don't dream about Afghanistan anymore? I dream about your Fall and the cracked skull and the dead eyes and the blood. And how I failed to save you. You never needed saving, but I didn't know that and it haunts me to this day.

I don't know what Mary saw in me. I was a grieving, broken man with no purpose. But she insisted that she liked me and I couldn't convince her that I wasn't worth her time. She distracted me from the grief and in a way she saved me, not unlike you did when we first met.

And then you came back. And I should have been happy, right? The miracle I had asked for so many times. But you treated your return like a joke, like it didn't matter -like I didn't matter- and you ridiculed me and something else inside me broke and this time I broke something of yours in return. Sorry about the nose, but I was so FUCKING angry and you kept talking and you kept being an enormous prick and it made me so angry.

Mary thought she talked me around, to see you again, to talk to you again. The truth is: I needed no one to talk me around. I could have never stayed away from you for too long. As soon as (most of) my anger had vanished,  I was drawn back to you like a moth to the light. And I thought that, maybe, I could be happy again. With you AND Mary by my side. And a little girl on the way.

And then you got shot and I nearly lost you. Again. My heart shattered to pieces, again, while I waited for news at the hospital. And as if it wasn't bad enough with you nearly dying, it was bloody Mary who tried to break me this time by breaking you. How could you not see who she really was? The world's only Consulting Detective and the smartest man I have ever known, and you didn't bloody know??? I could not leave her, not with Rosie on the way. I didn't want my little girl to grow up without a father. I promised her to be a better father than my own and I could never break this promise. Not before she was even born. But you made me break that promise. You didn't pull the trigger, that day in the aquarium, but you might have as well. You SWORE to protect Mary so my little girl would have a mother and she still died. I cannot care for Rosie, not on my own. I can barely take care of myself.

I am a broken man, Sherlock, I am not the man I want to be. Not anymore. I am a washed up soldier and doctor, a single father who can't take care of his daughter, a son and brother being only 1 step away from following his father's and sister's footsteps and becoming a full blown alcoholic.

I can't be near you anymore. Not until I get better. And I don't know if I ever can. I do not trust myself, with all the anger and sadness and guilt and broken promises. Maybe this time I am broken beyond repair.

Do not contact me. Do not follow me. Do not spy on me (same goes for you, Mycroft!). Don't even think about me. Do not! Sherlock, I mean it. This time it has to be my way, not yours.

I don't know when I can bear to see you again, if I can bear to ever see you again. And this thought breaks whatever is left of my already broken heart.

John

(AO3 link)

[darlingdekarios]

so this is goodbye.

rating: mature for canon themes length: 1,752 content: Arthur Morgan x f!reader, established relationship, hurt no comfort, set in the hours leading up to Arthur's death, mentions of blood (tuberculosis related), canon compliant

Arthur Morgan's most important goodbye - the one he gives to you.

"Let's just go together."

It was an impossible plea - one you knew the answer to long before he turned to face you, blue eyes transparent with the cold truths of the situation. For as many roads as you'd taken together, it seemed the path had thinned - going forward, there was only room for one.

"You and I both know it's too late for that now," his voice was thin, the result of his lungs failing in every aspect - you couldn't stand the sound of him like this anymore. "Even if we ran, I'm on borrowed time. I'd just die on you tomorrow, we both know it."

It was true, there was no denying it - only a fool would try.

"I'd rather you die with me in peace than at the hands of men who never deserved to be in your company," your words fell into the air like shattered glass, broken beyond repair.

"I will die in peace knowing you're safe," he promised, reaching forward to grasp both of your hands in his. It occurred to you this was the last time you'd feel his hands against yours. "But I can't do that if you don't go now, while you have the chance still."

His thumbs ran across your knuckles, memorizing the feeling of them one last time - the same thoughts in your mind echoed in his. You tried to steady yourself, deep breaths in and out to pretend you were okay - the façade dissipated when a quiet sob left your lips, though he'd been waiting for it all along. Just like his death, your brokenness over it was inevitable.

"I'm not ready to say goodbye," you choked out, words squeezed through a throat that felt smaller by the minute, much like the world closing in on you. "I should…I should be with you until the end. I should be by your side."

"They won't allow that. You've been by my side all this time, don't you ever forget that counted for something. Everything we did together counted for something."

Some part of him was glad for all the trouble that was about to be caused so you had to go your separate ways. In truth, since the doctor had informed him of his fate Arthur was certain of one thing above most others - he didn't want you to be around when he succumbed to this cough, despite the fact that seeing your face as his eyes closed one last time would be a dream for any man. He didn't want you to watch him suffer, because he didn't want you to live with that suffering forever.

So now in his final hours, finally in a semblance of control of his own actions, his mind and heart were radiantly in love with you - so much of his remaining energy focused on your ensured survival through another day. He could only be thankful for the time he'd received with you, for every day you'd spent telling him you loved him - particularly knowing he never deserved something as divine as your love.

Any amount of time with you was more than a man like him had earned in life to begin with.

But as for you and your heart?

"It hasn't been enough time. We didn't get enough time, Arthur."

Tugging you forward gently his arms wrapped around you in a hug, the only comfort you'd ever found in this life wrapping you in warmth once more. He was filthy, but that wouldn't stop you from taking as much of him as you were allowed now - your face buried into his chest, arms tight around his torso, clinging to him as though it gave you life.

He pulled away to shed his jacket from his frame, reaching around you to wrap it on your shoulders. He'd always preferred it on you, anyway.

"But the time we did get made me a happy man," he reminded, his voice earnest and truthful, words offering no amount of doubt. "You made me want to be a better man."

His hands came to your shoulders to squeeze gently, holding you against him still.

"I need you to promise me you're not gonna turn that horse around and go back up there after me," his voice was serious, steady - it left no room for disagreement and yet you couldn't help the desire to do just that. "You've got to promise me. You are not to follow me. That's no place for you anymore."

"Arthur, I…"

"Now, I don't want to hear it," he grabbed both of your hands again, squeezing them in his - even now you could feel his strength waning. You were hanging on his every word, memorizing how each syllable fell from his lips - already dreading the day you couldn't remember his voice anymore. "Please listen to me. Those men up there…they're nothin' more than animals now. They will kill you to hurt me, and you're all I have left that they can use. Already lost John…don't make me lose you, too."

There was so much…too much to say in this moment, this goodbye you'd known was coming and yet had sprung so suddenly. It was impossible to pick which words to give him, which words would hold the most meaning - which would make him feel the most fulfilled. They were in your mind like debris picked up by a tornado, far too much chaos to make sense of.

"I can't do it without you. I'm not ready to live without you."

"You're goin' to have to, sweetheart," his hands left your shoulders to hold your face instead, thumbs running over your cheeks as he leaned forward to press a kiss to your forehead. His next words were whispered against your skin - his private form of begging between the two of you, one last time. "You go on and you live your life, and you don't ever try to find Dutch or Micah or any of 'em, outside of Abigail or Charles or Mrs. Adler. Forget the rest of 'em. Please."

He leaned away to meet your eyes again - you gave yourself a moment to hold your response purely to enjoy the splashes of color in his blue eyes, knowing no other would compare to these hues again. You nodded, knowing this is what he needed, knowing it was the only remaining peace you could offer him.

"I won't go lookin', but if I see Micah or Dutch again I will put a bullet between their eyes, Arthur," you promised, eyes dark as you spoke the names of the men who he would soon face. "I swear I will, even if it's the last thing I do."

"I know you -"

He was overtaken by a cough, the worst one yet - he leaned against a tree to support himself but you were also there - just as you had been all these past weeks. You rubbed his back as he coughed, reaching upward to smooth his hair away from his slick forehead as it fell about. He tried to motion you away when blood spurted from his lungs, spraying the grass beneath you. You held strong, instead pulling a cloth from your satchel to wipe his mouth.

He loved you with a passion you were certain no one else could come close to matching. You could see it manifested in his eyes.

"You are the best man I have ever known, Arthur Morgan," your words were quiet, movements delicate as you wiped the sweat from his brow as well, pushing his hair back again. One of his arms wrapped around your waist again, a wheezy breath sucked into his lungs as he watched you talk. "You deserved far better than what the world gave you."

"I got more than I deserved."

When I got you.

His eyes gave life to the words he couldn't bring himself to say aloud.

You stepped closer despite the fact he tried to push you away again briefly, ignoring his plea as you wrapped your arms around his torso again, pinning him between yourself and the tree, wondering how long you could get away with holding him there. Almost as if he sensed your thoughts he kissed your forehead weakly, a heavy, raspy sigh huffing from his lungs. You turned your head to kiss his cheek gently.

You both nuzzled your heads together for a moment, enjoying the closeness and serenity of one another for as long as the cruel circumstances would allow. When he pulled away it was to lift you back onto your horse - one he'd gifted you years ago now - strong hands rubbing your thighs one more time.

"You go on 'n' get out of here," his voice was firm, resolute - you had one option as to what to do next. "And don't you dare look back."

He withdrew from you, turning his back to hide the way his Adam's apple bobbed as the threat of tears welled in his chest, something he'd sworn from the beginning he'd never do in front of you. As he climbed on his horse the leather reins shook in his trembling hands, leaving you for the last time becoming the hardest thing he'd been asked yet.

He heard the hooves of your horse as you attempted to retreat, and was painfully aware when they stopped - an immediate fear taking over him that you wouldn't be able to go through with this.

"Arthur," you called out, the sobs chasing the end of your words a hammer to his heart each time. "I loved you. I do love you…I will love you always. Every day."

He turned his horse to you, glistening eyes mirrored by your own as he rode up along side you. He removed one of his gloves to reach out and hold your cheek in his hand, thumb wiping a tear from beneath your eye gently.

You would never let yourself cry again.

"So many things I should've done different," for everything that was happening, Arthur sounded at peace with what he had chosen, content with all that he was leaving in the world as long as it included you. "I don't know what happens when we die, but I know if this…all this shit in life…ain't it for us…I'll be waitin' for you."

He released your face to reach for your hand, raising it to his lips in one final kiss. With that, you watched Arthur Morgan set off on his final ride.

masterlist. red dead redemption masterlist.

[elle-p]

Akira Ishida's Persona3 The Movie #4 Winter of Rebirth blu-ray comment translation

Ideas about Persona 3 The Movie

For Makoto Yuki, the 4 chapters of Persona 3 The Movie were the story of how, after Death was sealed within him and his heart became hollow, it began to fill up and repair through his interactions with the Specialised Extracurricular Execution Squad.

I feel like as a part the adroit way the narrative is structured around the recollection of Makoto's memories, the timeline and timing of what is revealed is shifted, so that the audience members who hadn't exerienced the game version may have felt a sort of eerieness when seeing Makoto's position when he first appears. Moreover, many of the plot points that happen in every chapter, for example things like the misunderstanding regarding Yukari and her dad, the case of Junpei and Chidori, and Aragaki-senpai and Amada-kun's relationship, seem depressing and gloomy. However, it's not because they are cheerful and happy, but because they accurately depict the wounds that people carry inside themselves that Makoto, by meeting and understanding them as he progress through the chapters, is able to aquire the precious things everyone should have.

I believe that the reason why Persona 3 The Movie's 4 chapters were well recieved by the audience was not just due to their interest in seeing the story they experienced in game in a film, but also because the scenery that Makoto sees made an impact and they related to it, and were curious to see how things would develop. This is how Persona 3 The Movie depicts the various ups and downs of the experiences that make up people's hearts, but my understanding of the word 'Persona' is that it comes from psychology.

When I first heard about the title and contents during recording, I wondered why you would call the incarnation of yourself for battle a Persona. A mask that people wear to represent themselves externally. It becomes a weapon to fight your enemies, the things that face you. This seems like everyday communication itself. So, when I think about the original meaning of Persona, I can make my own satisfactory reasoning as to why Makoto's Persona isn't in the form of a single one that evolves, but instead uses multiple from the beginning. The empty minded Makoto has no desire to be seen externally. It doesn't matter to him; he doesn't care how he's seen, so there's no reason for him to limit himself to one mask. What do you think? Personally, I quite like this reasoning. By viewing Makoto as having been an empty vessel, it makes it a major necessity for the story to develop him as a character in the film. Is it too much of a stretch to say that Makoto Yuki's story isn't just limited by the framework of a game, and has the potential to withstand the development and adaption, so therefore it was inevitable that it would be made into a movie? Speaking of which, the climax scene of Winter of Rebirth. After all he's been through, regaining his lost humanity and filling himself, Makoto reaches the point where he is willing to sacrifice his own life for his friends, just like his mother once did for him. There is no recklessness that comes from the indifference to the fear of death as in Spring of Birth. In order to achieve their shared goal of protecting the proof of existance people leave behind, Makoto decided to save the friends who had filled him and given him the elements to reconstruct himself and the world in which they live. And, as you all saw, this action was based on a self-sacrifical idea. For this reason Makoto, who can wear the masks of many Personas, gets every one of them shattered, and in the end can only move forward without wearing a mask. Don't you think this is a very symbolic scene?

He entrusts his friends with the same word his mother told him: 'live'. If a mother's love for her child is the ultimate, unsupassed thing, then you can say that Makoto's inner self, which can pour out that selfless love from the bonds with his friends, has completely regained human form. In addition, there is a mechanism in place which means that you can only go to the last stage without wearing the mask of a Persona. This can be seen as a message that the power to stand up to Nyx, the last opponent, the environment, and the world resides in someone's true essence, and that it is impossible to do so while wearing a false mask. It is also suggested by the composition that it is necessary to wear the mask of a Persona when defeating enemies, and to expose your true self when protecting loved ones. I would like to say that there is no way that exposing your true self could lead to strength, but once reset and gained new experiences, Makoto reached the next stage before others, attaining the answer to life. He is no longer an ordinary person. Even though it's fiction, I'm glad that it was Makoto and the others that were given the mission to fight Shadows in the Dark Hour. If it had been me, since I still haven't found the answer to life, the world would have ended on January 31st as planned, and these ideas would have never come into the world. If you think about it, that could have been okay, too.

劇場版「ペルソナ3」にまつわる妄想

結城理にとって劇場版「ペルソナ3」の全4章はデスをその身に封印され、心が虚ろになってしまった彼が、特別課外活動部の仲間達とのふれあいを経て、その中身を満たし直していくまでの過程をたどる物語でした。

理の記憶の甦りという物語構成の妙として、時間軸とそれが公開されるタイミングがズラされていたりしたので、ゲーム版に触れたことがない観客の皆さんは初登場時の理の立ち位置に一種の不気味さを感じたのではないかと思います。そのうえ各章で起こる事件は、例えばゆかりの父親に対する誤解や順平とチドリの一件、荒垣先輩と天田くんの関係など暗くて重いものが多い印象です。しかしそういった明るくてハッピーなものばかりではない、人が内側に抱え込んでいる傷の部分をきちんと描いたからこそ、彼らに出会ってそれを見つめることになる理も、章が進むにつれて���本来、人として持っているべき大切なものを、欠けることなく獲得していけたのだと思います。

劇場版 「ペルソナ3」の全4章が観客の皆さんに受け入れて頂けたのも、ゲームで体験したストーリーを映像で見てみたいという興味の他に、そんな理の見る景色に影響され同調することで、その先の展開が気になったからという部分もあったのではないでしょうか。このように人の心を構成する様々な経験の起伏を描いた劇場版「ペルソナ3」ですが、そもそもペルソナという単語は僕の理解では心理学周辺で出てくるものですよね。

一番初めのゲーム収録でこのタイトルと内容を知ったときに、バトルをするための自分の化身をペルソナと呼ぶなんて、何でシャレてるんだと思ったものでした。人が対外的に自分を表すためにかぶる仮面。それが敵、自分に向かってくるモノと戦うための武器になる。これは日常のコミュニケーションそのものに見えます。だから、そういうペルソナを本来の意味を考えると、理だけが一つのペルソナの進化という形ではなく、初めから複数のぺルソナを使い分けられるというところにも自分なりに納得のいく理屈をつけることができそうです。心の中が空っぽの理には端から対外的にどう見られたいという願望がありません。そんなことは彼にとってはそれこそ「どうでもいい」ことであって、どう見られても構わないからこそ、かぶる仮面を一つに限定する理由がないのです。どうでしょう。自分としてはこの理由付けの仕方、なかなか気に入っています。理が空の器であったと捉えることで、映画の登場人物として物語を展開させていく大きな必然性を持たせることにもなるのです。結城 理の物語はゲームの枠にとどまらず、映画化という展開にも充分耐えうるポテンシャルを持っていた、だから映画化されるのは必然だったというのはちょっと暴走し過ぎでしょうか。暴走ついでに、第4章『Winter of Rebirth』のクライマックスシーン。これまでの経験を経て、一度無くした人間性を取り戻し、中身を満たすことができた理は、かつて母親が自分にしてくれたように、仲間を生かすために自分の命を投げ出すという境地にまで達します。そこには第1章『Spring of Birth』の頃の己の死の恐怖に対するどうでもよさから来る蛮勇はありません。自分たちが存在した証を守り残すという全員の目標を果たすために、理は自分を満たしてくれた、自分を再構成するためのエレメンツをくれた仲間と彼らが生きていく世界を、今度は自分が救おうとしました。そしてそれが自己犠牲的発想に基づく行動だったのは皆さんも感じられた通りです。そのために数多くのペルソナという仮面をかぶることができる理が、ことごとくそのペルソナを打ち砕かれ、最後はその仮面をかぶらずに先へ進む。これはなかなか象徴的なシーンだとは思いませんか。

「生きろ」と自分に伝えてくれた母親と同じ言葉を仲間に託していく。母親が我が子を思う母性愛が、究極、無上のものであるならば、仲間たちとの間にその無償の愛情を注げるまでの絆を楽いた理の内面は、完全に人間としての形を取り戻したと言えるでしょう。それに加えて、ペルソナという仮面をかぶらない形でしか最後のステージに上がれないという仕掛けが用意されているわけです。これはニュクスという究極の敵、環境、世間に立ち向かえる力を宿す場所はその人の本質的な部分にしかない、虚飾の仮面を被った姿では無理なんだというメッセージにも見えるわけです。また、敵を倒すときにはペルソナという仮面をまとい、大切な人を守るときには自分の素の姿をさらけ出すことが必要だったという構図も暗示的です。自分なんかはとてもじゃないけれど素の自分をさらけ出したところで強さに結びつくとは到意思えないと言いたいところですが、一度リセットされ、新たに経験を積み直した理は、人より先に一つ上のステージ、命の答えに到達しているのです。もはや凡人ではありません。フィクションとはいえ、影時間でシャドウと戦う使命を与えられたのが理達で良かったとつくづく思います。もしも僕だったとしたら、命の答えにたどり着くのはまだまだ先のことでしょうから、世界は予定通り1月31日に終わっていたでしょうし、そうなったらこの妄想が世に出ることもなかったでしょう。そう考えるとそれもアリだったかもしれませんけどね。