#to girl sleep perchance to girl dream

[brown-little-robin]

[brown-little-robin]

@lovesodeepandwideandwell

just a girl’s night routine

[mazeyphaedra]

figueroth faeth is sooo like. i have more opportunities to be better at everything when i am other people. i don’t know who i am. i’m a wood elf tiefling resident doctor detective old lady archdevil wizard’s paramour german shepherd. i’m straight-edged except for drugs. i smoke. i’m a rockstar. i haven’t written anything in months. i turned my infernal domain into a recording studio. i’m not an artist. i wear my heart on my sleeve. i can’t have any of my loved ones know how much i truly care for them. i attribute every awesome and kind thing i do to other people. i don’t want to exist. i worry my parents, all four of them. i’m an only child. i’m a sister. i’m wanda childa. i contradict myself; i am large, i contain multitudes. i’m a teenage girl.

[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?”

.

.

.

©pennyellee. please do not repost

Love you all!! ♥

Don't be a silent reader, comment, re-blog, heart, asks are more than welcome ♥

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.

let's be friends chummers 🫧♡ ︎

lots of love, p.

tag list: @beautifulcloudfestival - @honsoolgloss - @jingerbreadoutofstock - @moscow778 - @januara26 - @dinosolecito - @yoongislatinagff - @xyahrinx - @hi12345567 - @nochuel - @deltamoon666 - @bbkissme99 - @darkuni63 - @nansasa - @sazsazsaz - @missmin - @strxwbloody - @royallyjjk - @jaiuneamesolitaiire - @shadowyjellyfishfest - @bbgniecyy - @elayne321 - @seojunandsoju - @bun-27 - @whipwhoops - @wobblewobble822 - @whofan88 - @haneyyyyyy - @lostgirlinthewoodss - @secfir - @btspurplesky - @elleflying07 - @pamzn - @megseungmin - @selenophileforlife - @idkjustlovingbts - @seonghwaexile - @catlove83

[brown-little-robin]

@bluesidedown exactly. survival skills

wait people sleep with their doors closed????

[bethanysnow]

So me and @lonelystczennie have been working on a project for a while now that is both of our babies. Around the time the Korea Elle shoot happened for Hyunjin, we both showed interest in this concept. I wouldn't have been able to write this without @lonelystczennie she is one of the best writers I have seen and I love her dearly. Everyone should follow her BTS account @7ndipity

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

★Yandere!Hyunjin x Fem! Reader.★

---slow burn, obsession, College AU!, pinning, eventual stalker, Fluff/eventual smut????/there is a sprinkle of angst. ---

3.3k wrds. CHAPTER ONE

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

Y/n sat in a chair in the theatre hall of SNU between classes. The room was large, and the red plush seats were a sight to behold at least in comparison to the underfunded American theatre she was accustomed to. They had just finished Romeo and Juliet for the fall and far on a facade balcony was where their Juliet stood and uttered the famous line “where for art thou Romeo-” Of course in Y/ns opinion she could have done it better. 

That was the problem with the South Korean society, or more so any society as far as she was concerned. It was about who looked the part, not that they did it well. 

Getting up on stage Y/n started to gather. A music stand, a chair, a folder of monologues she had put together. Holding her imaginary audience captive she readied herself…

“To be, or not to be, that is the question: Whether 'tis nobler in the mind to suffer

    The slings and arrows of outrageous fortune, or to take arms against a sea of troubles

    And by opposing end them. To die—to sleep,”

It was here in this soft moment that Y/n could be herself, be loud, be obnoxious, be in her own little corner of the world where no one would see. She meandered around the stage, using its size to her advantage. Her mind cast back to the years at theatre camps, high school productions, anything to get her hands on stage…where she could be anyone she wanted to be. At least in theory.

“-No more; and by a sleep to say we end the heart-ache and the thousand natural shocks

    That flesh is heir to: 'tis a consummation devoutly to be wish'd. To die, to sleep;

    To sleep, perchance to dream—ay, there's the rub: For in that sleep of death what dreams may come, When we have shuffled off this mortal coil,”

While she wasn’t insane, she knew where she stood in the world. She knew what people thought when they looked at her. It was hard to miss, but somewhere in the mean girls brimstone there were glimmers. Glimmers of what might be, what could be..what should be. 

“Must give us pause—there's the respect that makes calamity of so long life. For who would bear the whips and scorns of time, Th'oppressor's wrong, the proud man's contumely, The pangs of dispriz'd love, the law's delay, The insolence of office, and the spurns that patient merit of th'unworthy takes,

When he himself might his quietus make With a bare bodkin? Who would fardels bear, To grunt and sweat under a weary life, But that the dread of something after death, The undiscovere'd country, from whose bourn No traveller returns, puzzles the will, And makes us rather bear those ills we have Than fly to others that we know not of?

Thus conscience doth make cowards of us all, And thus the native hue of resolution

   Is sicklied o'er with the pale cast of thought, And enterprises of great pith and moment

  With this regard their currents turn awry and lose the name of action.”

The crowd was silent, jaws agape at the performance that befell them. Until it was a trickled down noise, starting as a low hum, but grew to a roar of applause, A tony! One shouted, Encore!! Brava Brava!! Another yelled from their seats. In the space between classes Y/n got to hold onto her dreams.

Silly Y/n, dreaming big dreams…

            The door to the theatre opened and like a lightbulb flickering out. Y/n turned finding the head director of the art department walking in. 

“Ah! Y/n, you here to pick up some costumes?” 

            “Oh uh- yea! Just making sure folks didn’t just leave them behind after last show…” Quickly taking the music stand to the side of the stage, it was in reality where Y/n had to stand her ground. So, she batted the stars away and swallowed the butterflies, getting off the stage to grab her bag. Maybe this year’s Musical would be more fun…

~~

Hyunjin slowly followed Jisung across campus towards the art building, watching the dry, faded leaves skitter across the pavement ahead of them, caught in the wind, his hands stuffed in his pockets in an attempt to fight off the growing autumn chill.

Why had he agreed to this?

When he joined the drama department, he hadn’t realized just how much time and effort it actually entailed from him. He didn’t know much about how any of it worked actually, he had signed up mainly just to appease his friends and to get them to stop worrying about him so fucking much… 

“I didn’t know this place was here.” He’d commented as they’d navigated their way through the crowded cafe, sitting down at one of the few available tables.

“How have you not noticed it, it’s like two blocks from our place?” Changbin asked. 

“I don't know, I just haven't.” He mumbled, taking a sip of his coffee. It was surprisingly good.

“You need to get out of the house more.” Changbin commented.

He didn’t argue with his roommate, though he didn’t necessarily agree with him. Nowadays he spent most of his time holed up in his room, painting, but he was okay with that. That seemed to be the only thing that made him happy anymore, the only thing that held any real spark for him.

It was quiet for the briefest moment before Jisung suddenly piped up.

“Hey, why don’t you sign up for the theatre department? Most of the guys are already involved in some way, so it’s not like you won’t know anybody." Jisung suggested, referring to the rest of their group of friends.

“I’m not an actor.” Hyunjin said flatly.

“You look like one though, that goes a long way.” Changbin stated, swiping a cookie from Jisungs plate. “The rest, you can learn.”

“And there’s more than just acting involved.” Jisung adds. “There’s writing and production, wardrobe and set dressing, music-”

“You could paint sets!” Changbin offered, earning a side-long glare from Jisung.

“We just finished the Shakespeare production too, so it’d be a good time to join before we start planning for the spring show,” Jisung added.

“Why do I feel like you rehearsed this?” Hyunjin asked. They glanced between each other guiltily.

He knew what they were doing, they just wanted to get him out of his room, out of his apartment, out of the headspace that he’d been living in these past few months. They’d tried a few similar tactics in the past, and while he appreciated the gesture, he really didn’t see much point to it. He didn’t see much point to anything anymore if he was being honest. Still, he knew they wouldn’t relent until he agreed to something.

“I’ll think about it.” He offered, satisfying them for the moment.

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

Now, as he trailed behind his friend, he felt a weak flutter in his chest.  Anxiety? Probably, but there was also something else, something faint, more pleasant.  Excited? He hadn’t felt excited by much since-

No, no. We’re not thinking about that anymore.

He shook his head, quickly following Jisung through the door of the auditorium. Maybe they were right, maybe a change of scenery would be good…

The auditorium was abuzz at SNU. That winter was to be the planning and prep phase for the spring musical, and every theatre geek on campus was somewhere in that room trying to live out their slice of life anime dreams. 

Y/n was in the back of the theatre typing on her laptop, busy working herself away already for what she had planned this quarter. Her theatre friends, Chan, Seungmin, Felix, Han, Jeongin, Changbin, and Minho all tended to arrive late. Leaving her to babysit the freshmen if the art director wasn’t in. 

This year as part of his senior project Seungmin was going to direct and produce the Musical with the help of his friends. She was glad to be part of it; just didn’t think being late necessarily set a good example for everyone that was new. 

The doors to the side stage opened and sauntering in was her band of misfits. Or at least that's what the group chat was called. 

With a…new person in tow. His shoulders risen to his ears and yet his gate was sluggish. Shuffling and looking at the ground. Y/n found herself walking down the aisle to the white fold out table with stuff for the crew putting her bag down. 

“So glad you cared to join us- oh great leaders~” She bowed dramatically to Seungmin and Chan. She laughed and rolled her eyes at Seungmin flipping her off. 

“Yeah, yeah, let’s just get on with this.” He said, trailing after her down the aisle.

The light peal of laughter drew Hyunjin’s attention, his eyes flicking up from the floor, quickly scanning the group until he found its owner. She was turned partially away from him, but he could still make out part of her features. Round apple cheeks, bright eyes that disappeared into half crescents as she smiled, her whole body moving as she spoke animatedly with Seungmin about something. He didn’t realize he had frozen, staring at her, until she looked up and met his gaze.

“Um, hi?” She offered, looking at him curiously.

“Oh, Y/n, this is our friend, Hyunjin. He just joined the group. Hyunjin, this is Y/n. She’s in charge of keeping us from accidentally setting the building on fire.” Han said, gesturing between the two of them before quickly snagging the chair closest to Minho’s, as per usual.

“Don’t pin that kind of responsibility on me!” She shot back before offering a warm smile to Hyunjin. “It’s nice to meet you.”

“Nice to meet you.” He said quietly, finding himself unable to look away from her.

“Alright, should we get started?”  She nodded slightly before turning back to the rest of the group.

After rousing games of zip, zap, zop, freeze and change, and traditional ice breakers for the lonely extrovert, Y/n found herself sitting in the audience scrolling her phone while the rest of the crew bickered over what to do in earnest. Her eyes drifted to the new boy.

…Hyunjin? 

His face was a lack luster pale like he hadn’t seen the sun in over two weeks. But his eyes were an abyss. No real emotion, seemed to be dragged here by their friends. Which- was how they got her to come in the first place; now it's their 3rd show season all together. His clothes hung on his body like a wire frame in a department store. Out of place, but far more expensive than the financial aid in her bank account could dream of. Catching his eyes, her own fell back to the screen in her hand. Maybe her cheeks were red from the smut she was reading earlier, or just being stared down by a dark prince type. 

Y/n had gotten used to living in and around very attractive people. It was the land of the Idol.

There were enough plastic surgeons to go toe to toe with the number of Walmart’s back home. Everyone had someone they wanted to be, to look like, to sound like, to replace. 

There just was no one like Hyunjin…He was who boys put up on their wall as inspiration, and girls put on their wall to admire. She dreaded to think what came to mind when she was caught looking. 

~~~~~

“Beautiful, ethereal, the human incarnation of a Renaissance Goddess.” Every word or phrase that came to mind didn’t seem to do justice to the woman sitting just a few seats away from Hyunjin. ‘Y/n.’ Her name danced around the inside of his head like a lyric from a forgotten song, foreign and yet somehow familiar. He shifted uncomfortably in his seat, trying several times to redirect his attention towards his friends, who were clearly in the middle of some heated argument, Jisungs voice echoing loudly through the hall in frustration, but each time, he found himself drawn back to her.

He couldn’t understand it, every little thing she did seemed to hypnotize him. The way her fingers danced lightly across the screen of her phone, brow creased in concentration as she read, sending occasional curious glances in his direction, sending a small jolt of electricity through his system every time her eyes locked with his, even for the briefest moment.

His heart thundered in his chest; mouth dry as his mind raced to figure out what he should do. Should he try to strike up another conversation with her? What would he even say? Every time she glanced in his direction, his mind went completely blank. Maybe it would be better for him to keep his distance? He didn’t know how long he sat there like that, observing her from afar, before Chan suddenly spoke up. 

“Y/n, I need another adult!” 

She jumped slightly at the sudden use of her name, making the glasses she was wearing slip a little further down her nose.  Cute. He bit back a grin, watching as his friend approached her.

“Can you please explain to them why Dracula is a severely overdone production right now and how-”

“Actually I really like Dracula,” She interjected, stopping Chan in his tracks. “I think it’d be a great idea for the spring production. “What do you think, Hyunjin?” He froze as she suddenly glanced over at him. 

“I-” He stuttered, his stomach doing somersaults at the way his name sounded slipping from her lips. “I think it would be good.” He managed to agree, causing her face to light up in a triumphant grin as she turned back to Chan.

“See? Majority vote wins.”

“What do you mean you wanna do Dracula? It’s cringey-” Chan exclaimed. 

“Says the man who at my birthday went on a tirade about how aegyo is cute and it should be embraced…sir you are a master of cringe- embrace ego death it wouldn’t be that bad for you” Y/n laughed. Still, her eyes glanced at Hyunjin, hoping he didn’t mind that she brought him more into the conversation. Her hand reached up and pinched his hyungs cheek. “-plus, vampires are hot- if you don’t think you could pull off being a sexy vampire just say so” 

Chan's eyes widened and he gasped in faux horror. Y/n smiled triumphantly looking to Seungmin with a raised brow, silently asking for his thoughts. 

“Director!!” Han yelled clinging onto Seungmin's arm trying to force him into receiving his love and affection “Mom said it's okay! Let’s do sexy vampire show!” 

“I told you to stop calling me that!” Y/n yelled back pulling Han off. 

While they all ended up bickering about the ethics of sexy vampires, Changbin’s eyes found Hyunjins. Staring at Y/n as she manhandled Han to get off their mutual friend. Was…that a blush on his cheeks?

There was a light in his eyes that Changbin hadn’t seen in so long. 

It was a welcome change, maybe with some encouragement, Hyunjin could find his way back to himself again. Or- that was the hope at least. 

Hyunjin looked up from his middle-distance stare to see Han chasing Y/n around the stage and her dodging his antics.

 “!would-” “-yoU” “QUIT-” “IT?!” She shrieked bobbing and weaving from the younger’s attempts to grapple (he would say hug) her. A small smile teased at the corner of his lips as he watched her interact with his friend, admiring the grace and agility she moved with. I wonder if she dances-

“Alright that’s enough, Han!” Chan called, finally managing to capture the hyper younger man in a tight bear hug, allowing rehearsal to get underway at last. Chan eventually catches Han, and play rehearsal could truly start. 

Y/n sat in an auditorium seat in the front row, while the rest of the boys spoke to the incoming freshmen for that year. Explaining Dracula, what it entailed and if they were uncomfortable with it to go now, no hard feelings, but best for them to see just who they could work with. 

~~~~

It was a rather daunting undertaking, but Y/n planned to be in charge of costumes and wardrobe for the year's productions at SNU, and hopefully for the coming seasons as well.

 Not by choice of course, but rather had resigned herself to the fact that the cost of auditioning, the cost of being good, but not good enough, the cost of being ensemble as great as ensemble is, was too much. She had a skill set that was fit for behind the scenes work, might as well embrace it. The boys were getting names, contact information, and the like as Hyunjin decided to test the waters, coming over to sit near Y/n, keeping an empty seat between the two of them so as to avoid potentially making her feel crowded.

“So,” He cleared his throat awkwardly, catching her attention. “How do these things usually go?”

“Well,” She sat up a little straighter. “Once we figure out the main production team, we start working on things like set designing, auditions, wardrobes-” Hyunjin’s attention began to drift as she spoke, her hands capturing his focus with the way they moved and flitted about as she spoke, leaving him transfixed. “What department are you interested in joining?” Her question shook him out of his daze, his eyes snapping back up to meet hers.

“Uh, I don’t know yet.” He said. “What department are you working in?”

“Costumes.” She answered with a small, amused grin.

“I might try that then.” He said quickly. 

She laughed, or more chuckled. Almost one could think she just cleared her throat, but the smile on her face would prevent the assumption. It was enough though. Hyunjin had fireworks in his soul blowing off and he didn’t know how to stop it. Not that he would want too of course.

“You should audition though! Everyone should give it a shot; you won’t know what you don’t try.” Y/n said in an attempt at being encouraging to the newcomer. 

“Are you then? Going to Audition?” 

“Nah- not this year, It’s Seungmins project, I wanna support him best I can and that is with costumes.” She smiled and leaned back in her chair. 

Looking at Hyunjin Y/n couldn’t help but notice the bags under the boys eyes, the flat expression wore thin and the smile he dawned was tired. Her heart ached, but not in pity, it was in recognition. She knew what it was like for the lights to go out behind ones eyes…thats what happened when she moved to South Korea.

The main 7 that adopted her brought her back to life and now there was Hyunjin. In a similar position to where she was, and maybe with some musical theatre shenanigans he would find his way back to wherever he fell off. 

            “Y/N do you think you could get the phantom costumes from freshman year?!” Seungmin raised his voice above the chatter. Her head whipped to the sound of her name and rolled her eyes. “What do you think?!” She shouted back only to bow her head at Hyunjin briefly to go join his friends little circle that had been made. Leaving him, to watch her walk away. 

Hyunjin watched her join their other friends with a faint pull in his chest as she went. “Y/n”, everything about her seem to draw him in, though he couldn’t quite place the reason why. Was it the bright flash in her eyes as she spoke? The warmth that colored her cheeks as she laughed? Her very being seemed to exude a warm, calming quality that he hadn’t experienced in another person before. He shook his head, looking away from the others as he tried to collect himself.

Was he seriously this infatuated with her after only a half hour?

It wasn’t impossible, he knew he tended to be rather intense when it came to these types of things, he’d been told that more than once in the past, but something about her seemed to strike a different chord within him. 

thank you @lonelystczennie for being my writing partner.

Tag List: Open

@kaciidubs @itsseohannbin @ldysmfrst @frenchkisstheabyss @daydreams-after-dark

[not-wholly-unheroic]

“Peter had found himself in similar circumstances on many occasions, curiously peering into the room of some little boy or girl whose dreams had called to him like a siren's song, thinning the veil between worlds until only a sheet of glass had separated them. But the dreams that had called to him tonight were not pleasant ones and the figure in the bed was no child.”

When Peter catches Hook having a nightmare, he realizes they might have more in common than either one of them would care to admit.

[curioussubjects]

StarbuckApolloFic/Fallout Shelter Authors and Fics

Thousands of emails later, I come bearing loot! Turns out a lot of the fics from The Fallout Shelter are around the web, which is good to know. I've linked to author profiles and archived version of fics when available -- mostly so we know we don't need to have FOMO about them.

The last section of the post include fics that aren't available anywhere online that I could find. If you want those fics, send me a DM with the author's name and/or fic titles and I'll send you the files I have.

There are some drabbles, wips, and random odds and ends that I didn't include here, so if you're looking for something specific DM me the title of the fic or the author name and I'll see if I have it.

You can also download all the group data yourself. See here for more information.

Full (or Mostly Full) Archives: 74CrazyChick, abelard (ffn, lj), Alec Star, Aleja21, bea, becisvolatile, chaosti, cliosmuse, CrysWimmer, Farringtongirl, greensleeves104, igore, Jason Thompson, kathgrr, leavingslowly (ffn, lj), lynnmichelle, lint, Maevenly, maroon-notebook, Monti (aka mlsky), msk1701, mystic83 (aka hackaddict), nancy777ca, nebakanezer, Noda2, PTBvisiongrrl, Ring Red, Shanna1, ShinyFab, Toptoffee, Waldo Deleted/F-Locked Fics (Wayback Machine):

Other fics on bsg03fanfic

latteaddict: The Choices We MakeDo You Love Me?Everytime I Close My EyesFinally HappeningGive Me a ReasonGuilty HeartsIt Was All A Bit of a Frakking Mess ActuallyKissing in the MoonlightSecond ChanceWe Make Our Own HappinessWith Nothing Standing Between ThemYou Don't Want Me marimba:

Time Will TellBlueA Little Less ConversationLost

rabid1st:

Captain's Privilege Shoot Your Shade Deleted/F-Locked Fics (DM me):

angylinni:

Taste Taste: Fulfillment After the Dance A Losing Game

Larry Edwards:

A Reason to Live Of Dreams and Vipers Secrets Shared Starbuck Blue Show and Tell Two of a Kind

latteaddict:

Taking Action Fun with Lee and Kara The Choices We Make Timing Is Everything My Heart That Breaks Finding Reality Falling from the Edge of Love Testing Theories Secret Kiss Ugly on the Inside Nothing Is Perfect There Is No Us Breaking the Pieces The Lies We Tell Omission of Truths Memories of You Assignment Turnabout Unbreakable Catharsis Very Close to Far Away 50 Sentences, Beta Set The Last Good Thing Inescapable Darkness Kisses Slowly Rising on the Air Expectations and Other Moving Pieces The Hard Way Almost Everything You’ve Ever Wanted All Good Things Words Whispered in the Silence Maybe This Time Making It Happen Sleep Deprived The Heart Wants Today Is the First Day of the Rest of Your Life Angel Kiss Cranberry_Jei:

Speak Softly, Without Regret (1-23, wip) UnexpectedTwo More PointsA Picture’s Worth (1-2, wip) As the Earth, She RevolvesChanging the Girl The Caprican Rebel: Skin Trade (1-6, wip) Perchance to Dream

rabid1st:

Rush Burn the Pipe Iced (1-6, Coda) Minotaur (1-6, wip) Ephemeral

Waterwitch:

Humpty Dumpty The Festival War of the Angels (1-6, wip)

Other Fics:

A Brave New World by Dekardkain (parts 1 through 24, wip) Cherish and Jake by KolothBandit (parts 1 through 8, wip) The Choices that Define by Codyoktober Gravitation by leavingslowly (parts 1 through 8, wip) In the End by Jayblue00 (parts 1 through 46, wip) Operation Aphrodite by JSO-Spoiler Operation Cupid by JSO-Spoiler Rage by Marimba Thirty-Three Minutes by Marimba Without a Trace by Rael

Other Authors: Buffyanp, Jill, nancy777c, Pandora_576, Roxane, Sanssong, Sairs.

[brown-little-robin]

yeah!!! ^.^

they nappin’

[tickldpnk8]

Winter’s Edge: Death, A Winter’s Tale

A long time ago (in Tumblr years), folks were discussing Death’s character, and asking me to weigh in. (@rey-jake-therapist do you remember tagging me? this has sat in drafts for precisely that long) Coincidentally, I was writing this post during that time and ended up sitting on it due to reasons I'll get into below.

The next issue in my Sandman Reread is A Winter’s Tale. So today, we'll be discussing Death as a character and what she says of herself in this issue. And it was really hard to write this because the story is pretty short and is essentially the monologue we hear from Death in the TV episode for "The Sound of Her Wings". So from my perspective, there wasn't a lot new to explore in this issue.

But since I started this post, we've been talking in the Sandman Bookclub posts about how the Endless really are their concepts. And I ended up not posting this and completely rewriting it. So without further ado, my thoughts...

First up, I loved the art in this: simple black and white pen and ink sketches are overlayed with watercolor backgrounds. I love the use of paint bleeding across the paper to give a background. The loose sketches give it a fresh feel.

As for the premise, the whole issue is basically what we hear in Sound of Her Wings as I mentioned above. Death talks about how in the beginning, folks were excited to live and die, but then things took a dark turn and she started to hate her function. She ended up quitting for a while and not ushering folks to their afterlife until an individual came to her and showed her what she had done. Then she goes through a period where she's kind of hard and cold until a small girl puts things into perspective. Here we learn that Death takes a day to live every 100 years so she can experience life and death.

So back to Death as a character and a concept. It's interesting to me the journey she goes on. What would make Death withhold her gift? What would make her become cold and brittle? What would make her chose to live among us for a day? If I think about this whole tale as a metaphor, I'm not sure I can come up with a good explanation or story for it. (if @poobtato or @writing-for-life have any good takes on what would be the backstory here, I'd love to hear them.)

However, I do think there is a good parallel between the way that death has been perceived by folks and differing cultures to the different feelings She attaches to her function. Death is indiscriminate. She can be cold and unfeeling. Untimely. A relief from terrible circumstances. Compassionate. Loving.

And I think that ultimately, it's so easy to see her as a character who is a friendly face. Who is a loving sister. And because of that we tend to look at her as a human and forget just what she is: the end. The end of a life, of a story, of a perspective. She's comforting, but she's still an end. And no softening of her character can negate that.

She and Morpheus may have a lot in common. There is a conceptual overlap between sleeping overnight and the final rest we all take. Hamlet's soliloquy even ties the two together ("To sleep, perchance to dream—ay, there's the rub: For in that sleep of death what dreams may come, When we have shuffled off this mortal coil, Must give us pause...") Not to mention how we've all joked about La petite mort here on Tumblr. It's easy to view the 2 of them as simply two siblings who are close.

However, I do think there is something to them being close and Morpheus drawing closer to death as he gets closer to his sister. They can't help being what they are. So if Death is a bit insensitive to Morpheus' depression/suffering, she can't really help it. She's not human: she is literally Death. Death doesn't really care what leads you to her: she's there waiting for you in the end regardless. To be close to his sister, is to be close to death itself. To be comfortable with the idea of it. To seek it out. Even if she is the one who finds him at the park. She extends the invitation to come with her, and he follows. I love her, and yet, I want to shout at Morpheus to keep his distance.

If Sandman is a tragedy and a story about grief, this issue sums it all up from her perspective. Death is all of the above: it's a fact of life and it touches us all at some point before it's our time. I like that ultimately, Gaiman chooses to embrace a friendly face at the end. Rather than leave us with a colder, meaner end, he gives us a Death who is that friendly face. Who will walk with us to whatever lies beyond. Who is a comfort. It's given me a lot to think about, and I've decided that I want this to be the end that awaits us all.

[sideblogofasideblogforshoko]

Prompt: Sleep

Title: To Sleep, Perchance To Dream

Summary: Shoko doesn't sleep for a reason

Word Count:

Rating: T

Pair: Soft Gojo/Shoko (SaShoSu if you squint), mostly comfort with angsty tones because I can't write just fluffy to save my soul.

Shoko doesn't sleep.

Not really. She can nap. She can catch snatches of rest between breaks, between lunches and against stone walls during shady afternoons. It is mostly just her shutting her eyes, breathing slowly and pretending, but it helps. Keeps the lie up, allows her to answer anyone who asks that yes, she rested.

She did. Promise. Pinky swear.

The bruised colored circles under her eyes seem to scream otherwise, to the point she stopped trying to muffle them with make-up years ago, but hey a girl has to try right?

"You need to sleep at some point, Ieiri." Yaga gruffly recommends at the end of their meeting. She has spent that last forty-eight hours awake (not even a record by the way, hardly even a blip) elbow deep in curse guts. Then another five, writing up the a report about her findings for this stupid meeting. "People are going to assume I am running you ragged."

Shoko thinks about the six cursed bodies waiting down in the morgue and the three mangled corpses in the freezer.

"Aren't you?"

Yaga who has had years to learn how to deal with Shoko's casual, pointed words simply waves her away.

"Get some rest."

"Will do."

And she does.

Head bowed, cradled in her arms at her desk while waiting for the blood samples to finish. Solid thirty minutes at least.

Good job her, right?

+

"You look like shit."

"Fuck you too." Shoko spits back at Nanami who ignores her and pours her another drink. They are once again holed up in his apartment. It's nice, but kinda boring. Clean, but empty. He spends about as much time here as she spends at her own, which is next to never. Exception being when he manages to wrestle her out of the morgue and he doesn't have a case the next day. Then they go to his, order too much food and drink until Shoko has to help heal their livers in the morning.

Its a self inflicting exercise in flagellation but it is better than the alternative. Probably.

"You aren't sleeping again?" He notes, just as she is taking a sip because he is actually a bigger asshole than even herself. Most people get blinded by the pressed suits and air of dignified annoyance but yeah, deep down, Nanami Kento is still that emo-looking asshole who listens to My Chemical Romance and enjoys being a troll.

Shoko feels her throat tighten, a lie on the tip of her tongue that drowns in the booze and hacks out as a cough instead.

"Are you?"

Nanami shrugs, "A bit. More than you."

"You really talk to your elders like that?"

"Sorry, more than you, Senpai. Better?"

"No."

"Ah, well. I tried." He deadpans, reaching for another chip and chewing it as he watches her go through her head for an insult but fails and gives up by flopping backwards. Her body stretched out on the floor, hair fanned out like dark wave.

"I rest." She says, "I cat nap. Worst case, I do a bit foosh foosh and I'm good as new."

"That's not sleep."

"Your mom is not sleep." She mumbles out.

"He isn't in Japan, I take it?"

Nanami Kento has to lean to the side in order to miss getting hit by the sudden launch of a wadded up paper receipt.

Shoko does not reply nor does she get up to see if she has hit her target.

"If he finds out about all this, he won't be happy."

Shoko gives a sullen huff, indicating how much she cares about the opinion of the gangly white haired man with blue furby eyes who isn't currently in the country.

Nanami sighs, takes a sip of his own drink and waits for Shoko to rise back up from her drunken depths. Eventually goading her into playing super mario cart until the sun rises.

It isn't sleep, and both will suffer in the days after, but it's good in other ways. A different sort of recharge she can't get with caffeinated drinks and naps in her car.

+

There is a loud knock at her office door that brings Shoko back into reality. Hard. She doesn't remember when she left it, but she does know she jerks back into her body with enough force to jostle her third cup of coffee all down her shirt.

"Fuck." She hisses, grateful it was cold but also when did it get cold? Didn't she just make a new pot?

"Sorry. Didn't mean to startle you." Megumi politely apologizes. He is one of the few students who actually can remember to say and mean it. She has no idea where he learned it considering every other student is half feral and his teacher is basically five raccoons in trench coat with an addiction to sugar.

"I was zoned out," She admits, putting the cup down and searching for something to clean up with. It takes some digging but eventually she finds some napkins in her purse. "What do you need?"

Megumi, for all his blank face, seems deeply uncomfortable and that is all it takes for Shoko to figure out what is happening.

"Ugh. Dont tell me he roped you in on this too."

"He won't stop texting."

"Megumi, you are suppose to be stronger than this." Shoko sighs, deeply disappointed.

"He sent a singing telegram to me yesterday and threatened to keep doing so until I sent proof." The teen explained, frustrated and more than a little embarrassed. She can tell by the way he gets louder than normal and the way the tips of his ears flush red. "That idiot has way too much time and access to money, Shoko. So let's just get this over with before he gets any other ideas."

Megumi hands her a folded up newspaper.

Shoko unravels it. "What is this for?"

"Hold it up next to you. He said he wants proof of life."

She does as he asks, but also flips him the middle finger. Making sure to frown hard as he takes the picture and sends it off.

"This was overkill."

"I agree." He replies and takes back the newspaper, then there is a series of urgent beeps from his phone. He reads the texts aloud. "He said you look like crap. Get some sleep or else. Something something about posting that picture from first year?"

"Tell that idiot I burned all evidence of that."

Megumi does and the answer is immediate.

"He says Myspace is forever." Megumi blinks, "What is myspace?"

"An ancient wasteland." Shoko tells him blithely and snatches the phone. Sending a series of complicated, odd and distinctly menacing emojis (it involves a lot of skulls, eggplants and fire) before handing it back. "There. That should keep him from using you to bother me. At least for now."

"Thanks."

The kid pockets his phone and nods, but before he leaves, he gives her one more deep concerning look.

"He should be back soon."

"Eh. Maybe. Might also get sidetracked by a dessert food truck too."

"Maybe." Megumi says, albeit doubtfully. Shoko chooses to ignore it and waves him off.

She still has work to do after all.

+

The thing about Shoko not sleeping is that it is on purpose as just as much as it isnt.

Sure, her work hours are probably enough to be a crime against OSHA or the Geneva Convention, and yes she often works alone because there is literally no one else with her gift but what else is she going to do? Go home? Ignore her dying comrades, the piling corpses and curses?

It is a shit job, but that is just how it goes. Could be worse. Probably. Shoko dances along the line of caring too much and not at all too often, to be a good voice of reason about these things.

That is the other side of it.

The part where she has seen too much. Touched too often, the worse bits of what remains. It is all on her to see what it all boils down to in the end and as much as she would like to pretend otherwise, it leaves a stain on her mind.

On her dreams.

It was easier when she could remember less; when she could numb with cigarettes, drink and love. Pressed between the lanky body of one, the compact slender of another. It was easier when the faces she preformed on did not have names in her heart.

It was easier when she was young, dumb and believed the future could be better if they just tried.

Now she is a little smarter, older and well aware of the utter shit show they are all forced to dance in. She knows her part, her limited turns and while she might still hate it all the way down to her bones she also knows the push to break it all down won't come without consequences.

She has already spent half a life burying his after all

So no. She never sleeps well on her own because every time she does, her mind fills with old memories that haunt her to tears. Or reminds her of the friend's she lost or worse, the ones she has yet to lose and really, if she has to pick. She would never sleep again if she could. Just to save herself the pain.

She is not a warrior, she does not suffer well when it comes down to it. She has a hungry heart and it starves like a wild thing, out of wanting. It wants love and it wants safety and it wants to go back in time and hold everything tight enough to bruise.

Shoko does not sleep for fear of the dreams.

-except when Satoru makes her.

"You haven't been sleeping again." He remarks, echoing Nanami but his tone all snark. It is past midnight and for once she is home. Driven there by a storm that closed down the school. She had heard the front door open, but hadn't bothered to move from the couch where she is nestled, reading some filthy smut novel that Mei Mei sent.

There was only one man with a key.

"Oh no. Who let the secret out?" Shoko mocks back with too slow of a response. She is just getting to the good part where the overly handsome, very rich CEO fucks his newly hired help over a leather couch. "Was it Ijichi? Sucha gossip."

Satoru snorts, kicks off his shows and practically bounces from one end of the room to the other, diving towards the couch and land haphazardly in her lap. Shoko, already mentally prepared for this, merely jostles unhappily before going back to her book. Resting the edge of it atop of Satoru's head. He had rested it first on her chest so this was fair.

"As if. That man will take your secrets to the grave. His crush is out of control. I saw him buying you a novelty travel mug today. Says best boss in the world."

"Aw, don't tease him. It's just a crush."

"Gonna tease him harder." Satoru promises, snuggling in. Stupid long limbs snaking in and around her body until Shoko cannot sigh without Satoru moving too. She gives up and closes the book. Letting it fall from her fingers to the floor so she is free to let them pet his white strands back. He closes his eyes and hums.

"Take a nap with me."

"Not tired." She lies.

"Liar."

Shoko cant help but smile at him.

"Yeah. Maybe. Can you blame me?"

Satoru, whose scars mirror her own simply holds her tighter.

"I will keep your nightmares at bay if you do the same for mine." He offers, and it is nothing more than a child's offer to hold hands in the dark, neither really has the power to fight off dreams but it relaxes Shoko more than anything else in the world. She gathers a throw blanket over them and places a kiss on his forehead.

"Deal."

Shoko falls asleep with a soft smile.

[pollydoodles]

These Endless Days (Are Finally Ending in a Blaze)

Following the events of Civil War, the Avengers are disbanded, scattered and in hiding - and not coping all that well. The rise of anti-superhuman feeling continues, and it's not only the Avengers who are feeling the effects. Steve Rogers and team are about to discover a whole other world, and with it comes what might be the biggest threat they've ever faced.

Whispers from the Hellmouth

“Whole town, devastated, on the whim of a child.”

A New Threat

Agent Riley Finn, waiting in the shadows of the Hagia Sofia with his recon team, takes a deep breath as he watches Captain America dust a vampire.

The Carter Girl

“Carters are Watchers,” he intones, and Peggy turns to face him, fascinated against her will to hear her father’s words from her little brother.

Conversations with the Dead

“We’re not super, Xander,” she says, a brief flash of annoyance colouring her eyes before she rolls them at him. “We’re nothing like the Avengers.”

Death of a Slayer

He had had such high hopes for this one. Had thought that she had been the key, the girl that he had been waiting for, the one to fulfill the prophecy. And yet, as they all had before, death had claimed her. This one was the same as all the rest.

The Things You Never Knew

“Last set of people I ‘had to meet’ turned out to be Nazis,” Steve returns flatly, but she’s been in the game long enough to be able to detect the note of underlying interest running through him as he says it.

Behind Enemy Lines

“What is - what is your work?” Peggy asks, curiously. “What could the Council possibly want with a scientist?” Erskine sits back in his chair and rubs at his chin, feeling the beard that has grown there over the long months he has been kept at Kastel Kaufmann.

Confessions of a Sinner

“Vampires, right,” Scott yawns again, waving a sleepy hand in Steve’s general direction. “Tennis vampires, or-” He pauses, hand out-stretched towards the kitchen counter, frozen in the act of reaching for what passes for a clean mug these days. “Wait, what? Like Dracula? Bleh, bleh, bleh?”

City Under Siege

She has strength enough to focus on the task at hand, to despatch the three vampires that come at her fast, one after the other with teeth bared and bloodlust in their yellow eyes. As they explode into dust at the point of her broken chair leg, the men who watch at the window are silent, but their eyes see all.

To Sleep, Perchance to Dream

The girl wakes in a new sort of darkness, gasping for air that is thick and heavy and does not fill her lungs the way she needs it to. For a moment or two she feels as though she is more than one person - that in one body exists more than there should, a jostling within herself - themself? - she shakes her head, blinking into the gloom and the feeling starts to recede.

Got a Secret, Can You Keep It?

“I’m guessing you all recognise Steve,” Maria says, nodding toward him as she speaks.

“Don’t you, uh, usually come with real shield action?” Xander mimes throwing an over-large frisbee, and the little redhead - Willow, Steve reminds himself - beside him puts a hand to her face with a grimace.

The Chosen One

“Here’s to making history,” Erskine says, nudging the small glass tumbler back across the desk toward her, and raising his own.

“A history no one else will ever know the truth of,” she says, ruefully, as she toasts him in kind.

Coming soon:

The Will of the People

Little Eva

Friction Burns

[thebookshoparoundthecorner]

FIC MASTER-LIST

I'm realizing I haven't compiled a list of links to what I've written to link to my tumblr but I've seen a lot of writers doing it SO:

SERIES:

THE REST OF THEIR LIVES: (4 part)

Our Side - Crowley and Aziraphale take care of each other through a mysterious illness that afflicts them both. In which they see each other at their worst, love each other for it all the more, and learn that being on your own side isn't so bad after all. (3 chapters)

To Sleep, Perchance To Dream - Crowley tries to hide from Aziraphale that he has stopped sleeping after a series of nightmares about the bookshop burning, Aziraphale sets a plan of his own in motion to help. Both of them fail pretty miserably, but make it through anyhow. Ft. terrible nature documentaries, a failed attempt at looking cool while ice skating, and the little old lady in the flat below. (5 chapters)

Godfathers (Again) - An excitable two-year-old girl makes herself known in the bookshop one evening after closing, with no idea where her parents might be. When it becomes clear that no one is coming by the shop to retrieve her anytime soon, Crowley and Aziraphale take it upon themselves to return her to her parents, wherever they may be. In which Aziraphale frets, Crowley grapples with the concept of goodness, and an odd day out makes a family of two into a family of three. (8 chapters)

The Human Dilemma - As the year anniversary of Armageddon approaches, Crowley and Aziraphale find themselves mysteriously turned human. As they work to solve the mystery behind their transformations (while experiencing a few of the more and less favorable parts of being human) and attempt to reverse the matter, they learn a thing or two about what being human means, what it means to love and be loved, and what this might mean for the rest of their lives. (9 chapters)

ONE-SHOTS:

I Really Don't Know Clouds At All - Crawly and Aziraphale converse during the first rain on the Wall of Eden, and meet again during the Great Flood. Crawly attempts to do what he can to go against the Great Plan and help the humans against the raging waters. Aziraphale finds himself doubting everything, from the necessity of the disaster to the wrongfulness of caring for a demon. Together, they grieve for humanity.

MULTI-CHAPTER STAND-ALONE:

You're All I Want For Christmas - Five times Aziraphale and Crowley almost spent Christmas together, and one time they did. (6 chapters)

What Are You Doing New Year’s Eve? - Five times Crowley thought about kissing Aziraphale on New Year’s Eve, and one time he did. (6 chapters)

My Funny Valentine - Five times Crowley gave Aziraphale a gift on Valentine's Day, and one time it was the other way around. (6 chapters)

I'll be adding more as I publish more!! I've genuinely been so overwhelmed (in a good way) by the kindness and support that these fics have been getting. It means the world! (Also if you've written me a comment and I haven't responded, know that I will and I'm so grateful, I've just been MAD busy lately and I will respond soon)

Art is always welcome for any of my work, and if you do please tag me so I can reblog it and talk about how amazing you are! 💙

[hotdoghero]

mouthwashing web weavings (text taken from why some girls love horses by paisley rekdal and horses stand up to sleep but lie down perchance to dream from scientific american)

[kentuckycaverats]

and if perchance you wake her then, she'd never not but eat. you think she'd stop at little gran? we're all but bones and meat.

- la llorona of the summer thieves, changeling NY 1969

kovac and kier have been looking for their daughter vasilisa for thousands of years; since their very first lifetime in human shapes, long before they ever took up the changeling way. she was taken and embraced by the nosferatu progenitor absimiliard, and she and the faevens have been pursued by the summer thieves ever since--the summer thieves are comprised of all the figures of child-stealing myths from various cultures across the world, and they're led by the baba yaga (the "little grandmother"). they know that vasilisa sleeps (read: is in torpor) somewhere but they haven't been able to find where, and the nosferatu and summer thieves have killed the faevens in numerous lifetimes for getting too close. until recently, the faevens haven't known why.

they know now that vasilisa is a nictuku and that the baba yaga fears destruction by her hand, and in last night's session they learned where vasilisa sleeps--in the roots of the destroyed world tree, yggdrasil. kovac unlocked a memory from the lifetime where they first met and lost vasilisa, back when the faevens were still true fae and could shift between their raven and mortal shapes at will.

we are flying over a battlefield, and something is wrong. there are too many bodies and they have fallen in a way that is not right. we drift higher to earn a better view and see that the bodies fall in concentric circles emanating from a center point. in that center stands a little girl--our little girl--who looks up at us with her face and throat soaked in blood. it seeps into the ground, too, saturating the dirt at her feet. the earth roils beneath the bodies, and from this height we see at last what moves them: the enormous coils of the malice striker, niðhoggr, the dragon who eats the world tree. its movements drive the bodies closer to vasilisa at the center point, and the world tree does not want her to have them. its roots pierce the ground from beneath and wrap themselves around her feet, dragging her deep into the earth. niðhoggr snaps at them in an attempt to keep the roots at bay but the tree is stronger, and vasilisa succumbs to the earth. this is all i can remember.

we know that it was the faevens' sworn nemesis, lady meabh (arcadian sidhe) of house eiluned who woke niðhoggr from its slumber in the roots of yggdrasil, and that she did so in an attempt to stave off an unknown entity's attempt to sever the connection between the dreaming and autumn world for good. it's possible that niðhoggr intends to use vasilisa for this purpose - details still TBD. but we Do know that waking vasilisa now will invite mass murder and destruction. faevens reeling :(

[vindieselsfacebook-blog]

Meaning/references behind every Gilmore Girls episode title - Season 2, Part 2

Masterlist: Season 1 Season 2, Part 1 Season 2, Part 2 Season 3, Part 1 Season 3, Part 2

My notes: - As always, please correct anything I've gotten wrong and share your own insight! - Many of these notes are pulled from and/or learned via annotatedgilmoregirls.com - an absolute icon! - Obsessed with Jess kind of mimicking the behavior of the little boy in the A-Tisket, A-Tasket nursery rhyme. Such a cute detail I never noticed. - I've made comments before about how much I enjoy all the parallels the relationships in this show have with the song I Can't Get Started and what a perfect choice it is for this point in the series, even as a reflection of Sookie's optimistic, naive outlook on love. :')

Season 2, Part 2

Secrets and Loans The title is a reference to the 1996 British drama film Secrets & Lies, directed by Mike Leigh. The film is about an adopted woman who seeks out her birth mother and the many secrets and lies involved in the process. “Loans” refers to Lorelai’s struggles to secure a loan to pay for the termite-related repairs on her home. “Secrets” can refer to several stories in the episode - Lorelai trying to deal with her money problems in secret, keeping secrets strategically from her parents, and even Lane keeping her foray into cheerleading a secret from Rory.

Richard in Stars Hollow Richard spends the day struggling to spend quality time with Lorelai and Rory in Stars Hollow, exacerbating his feelings of uselessness after being forced into retirement. Perhaps a reference to the episode title from season one “Emily in Wonderland” where Emily has her own day in Stars Hollow, which itself is a reference to Alice in Wonderland.

A-Tisket, A-Tasket The episode is named for an English nursery rhyme, first recorded in the US in 1879 as a children’s game, sung while children danced in a circle. One child would run around the circle and drop a handkerchief; the nearest child to them would then pick it up and chase them. If caught, the child who dropped the handkerchief would either be kissed, join the circle, or had to confess the name of their sweetheart. The rhyme was turned into a popular jazz standard song by Ella Fitzgerald in 1938. The lyrics to the rhyme are usually given as: “A-tisket, a-tasket A green and yellow basket I wrote a letter to my love And on the way I dropped it, I dropped it, I dropped it, And on the way I dropped it. A little boy he picked it up And put it in his pocket.” It’s suitable for an episode all about baskets, romance, and miscommunication. Similarly to the little boy in the rhyme finding the letter and pocketing it, Jess finds Rory’s dropped bracelet and takes it.

It Should've Been Lorelai Emily cruelly tells Lorelai: “It should’ve been you!” in regards to Christopher seemingly finally getting his life together, but for another woman and not Lorelai as apparently the whole Gilmore family always kind of assumed. Possibly a reference to the 1990 ballad, It Should’ve Been You by Teddy Pendergrass.

Lost and Found A lost and found is a place where lost property is kept. Rory ends up finding her lost bracelet, which was arguably taken and returned by Jess.

There's the Rub The phrase is taken from Shakespeare’s famous “To be or not to be” soliloquy from the play Hamlet. “To die - to sleep. To sleep - perchance to dream: ay, there’s the rub!” The origin is the ancient game of bowls (also known as lawn bowling). A rub is some fault in the surface of the green that stops a bowl or diverts it from its intended direction. The term is recorded first a few years before Shakespeare’s time and is still in use. It appears, too, in golf, in the expression rub of the green, which refers to an accident that stops a ball in play and for which no relief is allowed under the rules. It later became a broader term for an abstract impediment or hindrance. The title also cheekily refers to the spa Lorelai and Emily visit to get massages (physically rubbed).

Dead Uncles and Vegetables Luke deals with the aftermath of his uncle’s death. Taylor fights with the proprietor of a new farmer’s market across the street from Doose's Market - hence the “vegetables”.

Back in the Saddle Again To “get back in the saddle” means to return to something after a break or absence, often after some kind of failure or setback. The phrase originated in the early 19th century and referred to cowboys and other professional riders who had suffered an injury, but were now recovered and “back in the saddle” to continue their normal lives. By the late 19th century, it had begun to be used in the more general sense, to mean returning to any activity. It’s also the title of a signature song from American cowboy entertainer Gene Autry. It was co-written by Autry with Ray Whitley and first released in 1939. The song was associated with Autry throughout his career and was used as the name of Autry's autobiography in 1976. Members of the Western Writers of America chose it as fifth of the Top 100 Western songs of all time. This episode is about Richard “getting back in the saddle” as he comes out of retirement.

Teach Me Tonight Teach Me Tonight is a jazz standard with lyrics by Sammy Cahn and music by Gene De Paul, written in 1953. It was recorded several times, most famously by Dinah Washington in 1954. It’s a very romantic “hot for teacher” song, making it clear how strongly the student feels about their tutor – and that their feelings are returned. As in the song, this episode takes place close to the end of the school year - although not literally near graduation. “Did you say I’ve got a lot to learn? Well, don’t think I’m tryin’ not to learn Since this is the perfect spot to learn Oh, teach me tonight Let’s start with the A B C of it Roll right down to the X Y Z of it Help me solve the mystery of it Teach me tonight The sky’s a black board High above you If a shooting star goes by I’ll use that star to write I love you A thousand times across the sky One thing isn’t very clear, my love Should the teacher stand so near, my love? Graduation’s almost here, my love Come on and teach me tonight” This is also the song that Morey plays in S1E3 after he finds Cinnamon, who Babette thought was still stuck under the porch steps.

Help Wanted A sign commonly displayed on doors by businesses looking for staff. This episode is all about Richard finding a secretary for his new business.

Lorelai's Graduation Day Lorelai graduates with a business degree from her Community College.

I Can't Get Started The title of a popular song composed by Vernon Duke with lyrics by Ira Gershwin in 1936. It was introduced in the film Ziegfield Follies of 1936, performed by Bob Hope and Eve Arden. The 1937 version by jazz trumpeter Bunny Berigan went to #10 in the charts and was inducted into the Grammy Hall of Fame in 1975. Sookie chooses the Ella Fitzgerald version for her wedding, which was included on her 1953 album, Sweet and Hot. It’s also on her 1973 live album, Newport Jazz Festival: Live at Carnegie Hall which also includes A-Tisket, A-Tasket, the title of episode S2E13. Lorelai protests that the lyrics are far too depressing for a wedding song, being about a relationship that will never get off the ground: “I’ve flown around the world in a plane I’ve settled revolutions in Spain The North Pole I have charted, but I can’t get started with you Around the golf course I’m under par And all the movies want me to star I’ve got a house, a show place, but I get no place with you You’re so supreme, lyrics I write of you Scheme, just for a sight of you Dream, both day and night of you And what good does it do? In 1929 I sold short In England I’m presented at court But you’ve got me downhearted, cause I can’t get started with you You’re so supreme, lyrics I write of you Scheme, just for a sight of you Dream, both day and night of you And what good does it do?” These lyrics seemingly tell the tale of both Lorelai and Rory’s current relationship dramas. We've been through so much and I can't shake you, but for some reason we just can't make it work. It just isn't meant to be. Another textbook Sookie moment for her to love a song just because of the romantic vibes and unintentionally pick one that feels like an accidental read of her best friend.