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chimivx · 1 year

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HAVEN. (3) -> Lee Know x Fem!Reader ( she/her pronouns )

summary: Welcome to your future, one you never could have imagined for yourself. Ever. It was only two years ago you and Minho renounced your Haven days, only to get swallowed by diapers and sleepless nights. For once, you think you're finally happy, but nonetheless, he finds you again.

words: 6k

warnings: infidelity themes, babies, no smut (sorry lol), hyunlix, violent themes (one punch is thrown), everyone is just still so toxic will they ever have any peace, if I forgot anything PLEASE LET ME KNOW!

a/n: Not sure how many people will like the turn this took. I don't know why this came out of me, and I don't know why I did such a huge time jump. I love this, however. This feels like an ending, but also like a stepping stone. Not sure this is over yet. ENJOY! xo

“Dada! Dada! Dada!” Is screamed from the high chair beside where you sit pulling apart pieces of banana, tossing them onto the tray for the little boy to eat.

“Baby! Baby! Baby!” Gets shouted back from the dark haired, sweater wearing figure with his back to you. Glancing over his shoulder, Minho smiles at your son, reassuring him he was still there, he was only cooking at the stove.

The house smelled of a mix of sweet and savory breakfast foods Minho had started preparing after you popped your baby in the bathtub. It was Saturday morning, which meant he had the day off- the entire weekend off, actually- leaving him with forty-eight hours to do his favorite thing. Take care of his little family.

When life shifted for the two of you, Minho wasted no time. In a week you were officially moved into his house with some help from Han and Chan, and for a year and a nine months or so, you’ve been living somewhat peacefully in your unexpected happily ever after.

Finding out you were pregnant didn’t come as much of a shock, if anything it became a nuisance. Almost like a reality check, or some type of wake up call, those two pink lines you discovered in Han’s bathroom put everything into perspective.

For nearly the entirety of the pregnancy, you were riding an unpredictable whirlwind of a rollercoaster. It was truly an unforgiving trip, one you never hope to experience ever again.

The chubby cheeks and cheesy smile that was being flashed at you this morning made it all worthwhile, however. Bringing your son into this world after debating whether or not you wanted to was the best decision you had ever made for yourself.

“Dada!” He shouts once again, with more persistence since Minho was focused on the pans in front of him. Turning back with a silly glare for the baby, your son erupts into a fit of giggles, throwing a chunk of banana onto the tiled kitchen floor to which Minho gasps.

“Not on the floor that hasn’t been washed in… forever,” Minho groans, then starts to laugh as he looks at you. Breaking off a piece of the fruit, you pop it in your own mouth and shake your head, wearing a smile.

“Someone should do something about that,” You say.

“If he’s gonna make more messes, why clean it in the first place?” Minho snickers, then focuses back on his work.

Slapping a hand on the tray, your son grabs a fistful of banana and holds it up in the air, turning you.

“Don’t even think about it,” You say gently, smizing at your son. He cracks a smile, one that squishes his cheeks and almost closes his eyes as he showed off his few tiny teeth. He was a carbon copy of his father with his round face, soft jaw, and button nose.

Every time he smiled you were reminded of where he came from, his little grin had the ability to take over his expression just like his fathers, his eyes scrunched into little half moons just the same.

“Eat your banana,” You say, watching him relax as you continue to speak kindly to him, “It is so tasty, trust me, I’ve eaten more of it.” Rolling your eyes, you take another bite and hear Minho laugh from the stove.

“There’s two more over here, want another?” He asks, peering over toward you. Outside there’s a sound of a car pulling up into the driveway.

“No thank you,” You answer vaguely, leaning forward in your chair to try to see out the kitchen window. This neighborhood was typically a quiet one, and to get to your driveway one would have to take a detour down an alleyway not many people knew about. It was extremely rare to have surprise visitors.

“Is Han coming over?” You ask, standing up, “Ah!” You raise your voice in defeat as your son jackhammers the banana to the floor, laughing with glee.

“No, he’s away this weekend,” Minho mumbles, half in the zone as he glances around to find the source of your stress. Clicking his tongue when he caught sight of the squished fruit, he sighs and chuckles. He says some cute things to the baby as you fold your arms over your chest and step over to the back door to get a good look out the window.

A dark, sapphire blue four door model of an expensive sports car was parked beside Minho’s Range Rover, a car you haven’t seen a day in your life. The windows were tinted black, shielding whoever was inside from the outside world.

“Who is it?” Minho asks from behind you. He took matters into his own hands and was now feeding the banana directly to your son, who didn’t seem to want to put up a fight. If he had Minho’s attention, he was happy as ever.

“Probably some lost jackass,” You mutter, squinting at the vehicle.

This has happened before, random people pulling into your’s, or your neighbors driveways, looking for their way across town. It wasn’t a bougie way of live where you were living, in fact it was pretty run down, but it’s perfect for your family.

“Baba, baba,” Your son babbles with a mouthful of banana, “Baaaba!”

“Shit, I didn’t make one,” You sigh, turning to the boys for a second. Minho pops another piece of fruit between the baby’s lips and nods.

“I got it,” He smiles, checking you out head to toe as he walks towards the cabinets to prepare a bottle for your son.

“Don’t look at me like that,” Your cheeks flush after he winks at you.

“Can’t help it,” He playfully rolls his eyes, scooping formula from a tin, “You’re gorgeous.”

Giggling to yourself, you bite onto your bottom lip and glance down at your pajamas that were overdue for a wash. Your hair was pulled back messily and there wasn’t a trace of makeup on your morning face, you haven’t even showered yet, the baby was clean before you. Mom life wasn’t glamorous in the slightest, yet Minho had a way of making you feel like you were a million bucks every single day.

Giving him one more happy smile, your attention is turned back outside at the sound of a car door slamming shut. Long, sleek blonde hair pulled back halfway in a tie with angry brows and eyes glaring at you in the window are walking toward the back porch steps.

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” Your tone falls disgustingly bitter. The smile you once wore is smacked off your expression by the grimace moving closer to your door.

At the counter, Minho tries asking you what was going on, and who had shown up, though judging by your tone he could take a wild guess and hit a bullseye.

Snatching the handle of the door, you storm out onto the porch before the dominatrix has a chance to walk up the stairs. He walked with a purpose, his shoulders slightly raised in anger.

“What the fuck do you want, Hyunjin?” You spat, your stance wide at the top of the stairs so he couldn’t get past you. Looking up at you from the ground, he drags his tongue across his bottom lip, smirking, taking in the sight before him.

It’d been three months since the last time either of you were around one another.

If it were two years ago, you’d be sweating under pressure standing here dressed like this in front of him. The person you were before Minho and your son was weak for Hyunjin, you’d be insanely flustered and would rather drop dead than let this heartthrob see you without a shower.

More than one blessing came from having your son, you were gifted the ability to no longer care what other people thought of you, especially this asshole. Your priorities were to raise and protect your son, and nurture your relationship with Minho.

Hyunjin tucks a piece of his lightened hair behind his ear and places his hands on the railings of the stairs, lifting a foot to rest it on the bottom one. You copy his stance, asserting dominance, telling him with body language that he wasn’t getting inside your home.

“Answer the question,” You mutter, sharpening your eyes.

“Not even a hello,” Hyunjin sighs, the angsty smirk still playing on his lips, “You’ve changed.”

“I haven’t heard from you in three months, you don’t deserve a hello,” You say, “What the fuck do you want, before I call the cops.”

Narrowing his glare, he cocks his head to the side and quietly says, “I want my son.”

A loud, humorless cackle of disbelief escapes you. Tossing your head backward, you sigh heavily and can’t hide the fury that manifests as a maniacal grin.

“You’re unbelievable,” You say. Hyunjin doesn’t find it as funny as you.

“I want my son,” He says a bit louder, tightening his grip on the posts.

“Then you should’ve called the judge,” You throw in his face, “Three months, Hyunjin. Thats a looot of visits to miss, you broke the fucking agreement, and now you show up without permission, which is also against the agreement, and demand me to give you my son.”

The main reason you were unsure whether or not to become a mother was staring you in the face. In fact, it had to do with both men, the one taking care of the baby inside the house as well. That night at Han’s, after feeling sick for almost an entire month, the moment those lines appeared you were distraught, your heart ripping directly in half.

Coming out of a fresh break up, the two men you were romantically tangled up with had overlapped, leaving you unsure of who the child belonged to.

Twenty minutes were spent on the bathroom floor in silent tears, but the boys in the house were too good, and knew you too well. Minho sat outside the door, waiting patiently, asking you every now and again if you were alright and if you’d open the door for him when you were ready.

Around the fifth time he asked, once you’d exhausted yourself with sobs, you pulled the doorknob and popped the door open a crack. Minho stepped inside carefully, pouting at the sight of you curled up in a ball on the floor. He sat down next to you, held out his hand for you to hold and let you tell him what was going on at your own pace. From the very first moment, Minho was nothing but supportive, respectful and loving. He stepped up and took on the role Hyunjin didn’t want even though there was a chance the child wasn’t his.

A couple of months into your pregnancy you were able to find out who was responsible for the little one, and Minho was on board straight away. He accompanied you to all of your appointments anyway, and you were living in his house, there wasn’t a second thought whether he’d want to help you or not.

Hyunjin was the one you had to chase. One would think if there was a fifty fifty shot that he’d be able to avoid this for the rest of his life that he’d want to take it, but it took Minho going through Han, going through Chan, going through Changbin, going through Felix to get to the bastard.

You prayed to a God you never believed in that the child was Minho’s.

You wanted to be rid of Hyunjin.

Unfortunately that wasn’t your fate, and now you were stuck dealing with him whenever he decided he wanted to be a father.

Part of you wonders if the ring Minho put on your finger after your son was born had anything to do with Hyunjin’s need to still care.

“Our lawyers alway said that if we could work it out on our own we wouldn’t need to go to court,” Hyunjin’s tone mimics a taunt, like he’s talking down to a child. It boils your blood further.

“I’m dealing with you, I have to go to court,” You grill, “My son is a year and three months old. He’s going to start recognizing who is and isn’t around.”

“That’s why I’m here,” Hyunjin shrugs, finding nothing wrong with his unannounced visit. Groaning audibly, you laugh again in sheer frustration.

“It’s damaging, Hyunjin,” You shake your head, “You coming around every few months like he’s a dog who’ll be excited to see you no matter how long you’ve been gone. He’s a baby, this shit is psychologically damaging and I won’t let it happen to my son.”

“Our son,” Hyunjin smizes, knowing those words always got under your skin. Maintaining face, you harden your glare and clench your jaw. You said what needed to be said, he wasn’t getting his hands on that baby.

From inside the house you hear your little one belly laughing, which means Hyunjin can hear him too. The smirk he wore on his lips falters at the sound. If there was anything he loathed most about this situation, it was that you ended up with Minho.

“Oh, wow, he’s actually home?” He scoffs theatrically, “Thought he took any chance he could get to go to work. I heard flirting with customers for tips doesn’t make you much.”

“You should really get your facts straight before you try to piss me off,” You say raising your brows, “Where do you get your information from? Minho hasn’t worked at the bar for like six months.” Prodding his cheek with his tongue, Hyunjin shakes his head and glances away. It was a tiny victory, stumping him when he tried to play his mind games that no longer affected you. Every time he came back, you only got stronger.

“Let me have him, I’ll bring him back tomorrow,” He says, shifting only his eyes over to you.

Grinning, you nod towards the car and say, “You even have a carseat? A crib? Bottles? Formula? Maybe a stroller?” He opens his mouth to speak, but you cut him right off, “What do you even need him for? You didn’t want him!” Hyunjin slams his fists into the posts on the stairs, startling you.

“What if I want him now, dammit?!” He shouts.

You hear the door behind you open with a creak of the hinges. Keeping your glare fixed on Hyunjin, you watch with glee as his changes when he catches a glimpse of Minho over your shoulder.

“What’s going on?” Minho asks, looking down to Hyunjin with disgust.

The man at the bottom of the stairs can’t seem to put together an answer, in fact it doesn’t seem like he’s heard what Minho’s said at all.

Turning your head, you find Minho close to the door with your son in his arms. The baby was content, laying back in the nook of Minho’s elbow sucking down the bottle that he made. The sight was enough to make anyone melt.

“I don’t appreciate the noise,” Minho, though coddling a baby, appeared defensive, “Especially while there’s children present.” Hyunjin rolls his eyes, knowing Minho chose those words on purpose.

“It’s ten in the fucking morning,” He says.

“Language?” Minho furrows his brows.

“Please, you live with this one,” He points to you, “She’s no fucking Mary Poppins. When did you get so soft, Min?” Titling his head to the side, Hyunjin smirks infamously, again.

“A lot changes when you become a father,” Minho narrows his eyes, “But I don’t need to explain, you already get it, don’t you?” If looks could kill, Minho would be dead on the floor.

Stepping up onto the bottom stair, Hyunjin leans forward, ready to unload his meaningless bullshit, but the passenger door of his sports car is slammed shut, gathering everyone's attention from the porch.

“Hyunjin,” Felix’s deep voice shouts, “Let’s go.” Another boy you haven’t seen in three months. Though you’ve heard from him, you text almost every other day. Not much had changed, except his hair that was now black as night. He was still tall, lanky, baby-faced Felix.

He gives you a look, a sympathetic one, as if he’s apologizing to you.

“Really?” You frown, and Felix shrugs.

“I’m sorry,” He says, giving his head a small shake, “I tried to stop this.”

“Always,” Hyunjin groans dramatically, rolling his head backward, “You always have to take her side.” Felix takes three steps closer, folding his arms.

“I do,” His tone is stern. Looking back at you, his eyes flicker to the baby for a second, then back to you. “Y’okay?” He asks, his intention meaning something deeper.

“Be a lot better if I had a warning,” You say. Closing his eyes, Felix shrugs and shakes his head again. He knows better, he should’ve called, but then again you know how Hyunjin can be when he gets something in his head. It’s inevitable.

“We weren’t coming here,” Felix mutters, sending a glare toward Hyunjin who’s grilling his boyfriend right back, “Let’s go. I told you how to go about this, this isn’t it. I’m driving us home.”

Behind you the baby coo’s, shifting himself around in Minho’s arms to look where Felix’s voice was coming from. The bottle falls from his lips, Minho catching it quick before it rolls onto the ground.

Your son lifts a finger and points toward Felix, uttering a quiet, “Who?”

Sharing a look with Minho, you take a breath and say, “That’s Felix.”

“Vee-liss,” The baby tries to repeat, making Minho chuckle. His inquisitive little eyes scan his surroundings, and once they find you he reaches out his arms. “Mama,” He coo’s.

Scooping him up you prop him on your hip and smile as he gazes around the backyard happily, taking in every sight and every sound. Watching him experience life for the first time is something unimaginable, you almost forget that there’s trash on your doorstep.

Swapping your smile for a stone cold glare, you look down at Hyunjin who’s completely enamored by your son.

Eyes as big as the moon, Hyunjin watches the little one intently, slightly smiling at every tiny move he’d make. All four of you stood in silence, letting the child have a moment.

That was a thing parents did with others- sit around and watch their babies do things. Many evenings have been spent with Chan and Han on the living room floor while your son tore apart his toy box. Nights at Haven were a thing of the past.

You keep your eyes on Hyunjin while he watches your son, keeping an indestructible barrier around your heart. A master of charisma, you wouldn’t allow him to ‘puppy dog eye’s’ his way into getting what he wants today.

Shit, that’s what gave you the very thing you hold in your arms.

“He’s beautiful,” Hyunjin whispers, not wanting to disturb the child’s admiration of nature. Sighing, you nod.

Three months ago he saw him through a car window. It was a measly glance, nothing of grandeur, happening just before Hyunjin snatched the child support agreement out of your hands to rip it in half. The day before his first birthday.

“He looks like you,” Hyunjin says, pulling his eyes away from the baby for half a second to look at you.

You scoff and pull a silly face, “Not in the slightest.”

Hyunjin makes a soft sound that warms the edges of the cold front you were projecting, a small laugh that tumbles you backward a couple of years. It was genuine, and you knew it was genuine because Felix gets him to make that sound often. At least, he used to when you’d be around them before the rapture.

Your son looks down at where the sound came from, finally acknowledging the human being a few feet in front of him, a moment you hoped wouldn’t happen.

Hyunjin gives him a smile.

Your son lifts a finger to point at him, saying, “Who?” And Hyunjins smile falters.

The light that started to pool in his eyes the second your son came out onto the porch was wiped away, like the only word your son knew how to properly say in the right context had physically hurt him.

Swallowing hard, you honestly aren’t sure what to say. Hyunjin hasn’t been a constant in his life, he didn’t have a name.

Hannie, was his Uncle Han. Channie, was his Uncle Chan. The other boys, when they came around, got silly nicknames too, but these two weren’t around ever. You never expected them to need introductions.

“Who?” Your son asks again, looking to you for instruction. Meeting his eyes, you try to take a deep breath but feel like someone has wrapped a rope around your lungs.

Hyunjin is watching with a broken heart and a longing gaze, and Minho stands behind you with his arms folded, a protective foot away. One was his father, and the other was actually his father.

Hyunjin, though he put up a believable act today, you weren’t sure if he was going to split again.

So, through your teeth, you mutter a painful, “Jinnie,” just as your son was about to ask you who this man was for the third time.

Placing one hand on your shoulder and the other over your heart, your baby looks at Hyunjin and gives him a once over. A sassy habit of his when he was around anyone unfamiliar, something he inherited from none other than Hyunjin himself.

“Chi-nny,” The baby says.

“That’s me,” Hyunjin says gently.

Breaking your gaze off of your son, you look down to him in shock that he didn’t protest the name.

“Chi-nny, well, Mama,” Your son says, his tone sad, laying his head down on your shoulder. Biting your bottom lip you avert your eyes from Hyunjin and take a grounding breath.

He remembers him.

“Time to go inside,” Minho suggests, smoothing a hand over both of your backs. Hyunjin furrows his brows.

“Why?” He asks.

Thinning your lips for a second you bob your head, “Jinnie, yell, Mama,” You repeat clearly for Hyunjin to hear.

“What!” He screws his face up in confusion, beginning to raise his voice already, proving to the toddler that Jinnie, does in fact, yell at Mama.

“He remembers you,” You shrug, pulling yourself out of the baby daddy fantasy that was minutes away from ensuing.

Hyunjin nearly gasps, “Remembers… me?”

Rolling your eyes you say, “We were in the parking lot of the grocery store. I was picking up his birthday cake, you were visiting the liquor store next door,” Hyunjin glances to the stairs, “It was the first time in a long time I’d caught you, so I tried to give you the paperwork.”

“You took it from her, ripped it to pieces and screamed in her face,” Minho adds, giving your waist a soothing squeeze, “While this one watched from the window.”

The baby in your arms turns around to look at Minho, a grin breaking out onto his chubby cheeks, “Dada,” He coo’s, holding out a hand toward him.

Hyunjin whips his head up in a flash, eyes burning into Minho’s.

“Really? Kid calls you Dada?” He spats, “I’m half of him, and I get Jinnie?”

“Hyunjin,” Felix states, taking three more steps toward the stairs, “Let’s… go.”

The blonde takes a step, getting closer as he rises on the stairs. Behind you, Minho pulls you aside, taking your place at the top of the staircase. His arms fan out to hold onto the railings in case Hyunjin tried to slip through.

“You don’t deserve that title,” Minho grills, narrowing his eyes, “And last time I checked, you aren’t listed on the birth certificate, did you forget about that?”

Hyunjin shoots you a chilling glare that’s broken in more ways than one.

Your son watches his father with caution, observing his behavior while cuddling up on your shoulder. Cradling the back of his head, you look over to Felix and plead him with your eyes to take Hyunjin away.

If anyone could remember what happened the last time these two went nose to nose, they’d want to end this as fast as possible.

Felix nods, dropping his arms to his side.

“Did you forget the kid’s a product of her cheating on you?” Hyunjin’s expression breaks out into a grin, making him seem proud, “Remember that?” He takes another step up the porch, and just before he’s eye level with Minho, who’s temper was rising by the millisecond, Felix is grabbing onto Hyunjin’s wrist.

Minho’s grip on the railings relaxes, color returning to his knuckles as he says, “You’ve gone soft, Jinnie,” Teasing him with his own words, letting the nickname hit him where it hurts, “Felix wear the pants now?” He says while Felix pulls Hyunjin down to the grass, giving Minho a look in the process.

“Minho,” You whisper harshly. Felix has done plenty for you since your son came into the picture, there was no need to talk down to him.

“Sorry, Lix,” Minho says softly, shaking his head.

The lanky boy locking Hyunjin under his arm is about to open his mouth until a car whizzing down your street takes the scene. It comes to a screeching stop at your curb.

“Oh, wonderful,” Hyunjin chuckles.

The car door slams shut behind an angry Chan walking up your lawn. Felix sighs in exhaustion, or frustration. Probably both.

“We’re leaving,” He raises his voice, holding a hand up to Chan, waving a white flag.

“You called Chan?” You whisper to Minho who gives you a smirk.

“Damn right you’re leaving,” Chan says, puffing his chest, stopping beside Hyunjin and Felix’s car.

Your son squirms in your arms, sitting up tall to shout, “ANNIE!”

He catches Hyunjin’s attention once more. Submissive in Felix’s grip while his boyfriend defends him, his gaze softens immensely, sending a shattering crack through the walls you’ve put up around you and your family.

Stumbling over his own feet as Felix guides him to the car, he’s acting like it’s going to be the last time he sees his son. Chan and Minho’s voices are ineffective, he can’t hear a thing they’re saying and neither can you.

Your little one digs his fingers into your arm, agitated by the scene ensuing around him.

“Let me get the door for ya,” Chan snickers, yanking the passenger door of the sports car open. Felix avoids eye contact, letting the bullets in the form of words rain down over them both.

Hyunjin grips onto the edge of the door, resisting Felix’s attempt to sit him down. He frowns, his lips pulling downward in a way they would before he’d cry.

Your son would make the same face.

Felix mutters something to him only the two can hear, and Chan, probably begging him to get in the car so he could avoid a physical end to this story.

“Need some help?” Chan questions sarcastically, rounding the door to grab onto Hyunjin’s arms, yanking them off of the door.

Hyunjin retaliates, tearing his eyes off of the baby, pushing Chan away on the chest. Then the Hyunjin you’ve come to know makes an appearance. Throwing a hand backward in form of a fist, he launches it at Chan, aiming for his jaw, but the Aussie catches it instead, jutting backward the slightest.

Flinching, Felix groans audibly and shoves Chan backward himself with his hip.

“Fuck off!” He shouts at him, “Chan, fuck off!”

Holding his hands up, Chan smirks and takes two steps back.

“I like this Felix,” He says, “Control your man, yeah? You leave my family alone.”

Shaking his head, Felix finally gets Hyunjin into the car, slamming the door shut. He doesn’t say anything to Chan, nor to Minho. Instead, as he rounds the car he gives you a wave and gets inside.

“Bye!” Chan shouts happily, slapping the top of the car twice as it starts to back down the driveway.

The three and a half of you are quiet as you watch the shiny blue car disappear down the street.

A lump manifests in your throat, one that threatens to bring tears to your eyes. Your son, the very being who you swore to protect was experiencing his first moment of grief. And it was for you, of all people, because of his estranged biological father.

There’s a soft babble from your hip, the little one humming a few noises without care, happy the world around him was quiet once more. Taking a look at him he’s focused on you, gazing up with a look that resembles admiration.

He sits himself up properly, holding onto your shoulder with both hands, and smiles.

“I’m sorry,” You whisper to him, giving a smile in return.

Down on the lawn Chan was starting his way up the stairs, brushing his hands together, muttering, “He didn’t touch you did he?” to whoever was listening. Minho, shaking his head, extends a hand to shake one of Chan’s, and begins to explain the situation to him, gesturing toward you a couple of times.

“Maaama,” Your son says softly, bouncing twice, kicking his feet.

“Baaaby,” You sing, dipping your chin down to kiss his squishy cheek. He giggles, shying away for half of a second before he throws himself onto your chest, nuzzling his head against you with the cutest coo.

This is when the tears spill, overwhelming you to the point of a sudden, sharp breath.

Minho whips his head in your direction, eyes wide, Chan glancing your way as well.

“I’m okay,” You mumble, nodding your head a couple of times as the boys hurry to your side. Minho slides an arm over your shoulder, placing his hand on the back of your neck.

Massaging his fingers into your skin, he watches you calm yourself down, then says, “We can do something about this,” He sends a glance to Chan, “We can call our lawyer, see what we can do, or we can call the cops.”

“Yeah, he can’t get away with this,” Chan’s brows are furrowed deep into his eyes, “Disrupting your life unannounced is wrong in the first place, but he broke a contract. You guys could sue, probably.”

Minho swipes his thumb beneath your eyes, brushing away your tears. Falling quiet, he studies you, taking you in, not saying another word until you made up your mind.

You parented your son together, you made decisions together, you were raising him together, you loved him together, however, when it came down to the court, the agreements, the paperwork, the lawyers, the judges… Minho left a majority of that up to you. He shared his opinions and his feelings of course, to which you listened at full attention, taking them into consideration always, making sure he felt as involved as possible.

Minho was your son's father, he was your son's caregiver, he was the one who stayed, the one who stepped up when you could’ve been left with absolutely nothing.

But, one day your son is going to ask why he doesn’t look like him. He’s going to go to school and learn about families and wonder why his friends have simpler family tree’s than him. When he meets new doctors, new people, and has to go over family history he can’t tell them about Minho’s, he doesn’t share an ounce of his DNA.

He’s going to ask questions. He's going to be curious. Knowing yourself, and Hyunjin, the son you shared was going to be a nosey little jerk at some point in time, and you weren’t sure if you wanted to cut off the source or not.

Looking at Minho now, shifting over to Chan momentarily, you can tell the two of them are ready to take action. They want to ruin him, finally put an end to the reign of terror, snuff out the darkness before your little one gains enough consciousness to know it’s even there.

“I can call whoever you want me to call,” Minho says quietly.

Parting your lips, hesitating for a moment, Minho perks a brow, on alert, until your voice paralyzes him.

“No,” You whisper. Your fiancé and best friend are stumped.

Your son has gone quiet, his chest rising and falling heavily against yours, being lulled to sleep by the sound of the birds chirping around you.

“No?” Chan says when he realizes neither of you were going to say much else, looking between you both in disbelief. Minho’s defeated eyes drop down the top of the baby's head. “You’re crying,” He gestures to you, then to Minho, “You’re furious,” He scoffs, “I’m pissed as fuck ‘cause I had to see his face, and now you’re not gonna do a thing about it?”

Taking a deep breath, focused on Minho, you give your head a slight shake, “No.”

“Honestly, what the…” Chan steps backward, dragging his fingers through his dark curls, “You could make money here, you could be done with him, like done with him for real this time, and you’re not gonna do anything-”

“Chan,” Minho snaps. Dropping his hands at his sides Chan turns and sighs. A thousand different things he could say flash through his expression before he even opens his mouth.

“Are you really not going to do anything?” He asks Minho, pausing between statements, emphasizing his frustration, “You’re going to move past this like it never happened? So that it can happen again? And again?”

Swallowing hard, the lump in your throat is back.

“I know you, and I know why you won’t open your mouth,” Chan grills, shooting you a look before he focuses back on Minho, “You’ve got everything you’ve always wanted and more. But, he’s still got his claws in deep.”

“Oh my god,” You groan, rolling your eyes. Tipping your chin up a bit so you don’t have to look at either of them, you let a few tears slip down your cheeks. “Chan, shut up.”

“I’m just saying,” The Aussie shrugs, “To both of you even, it’s been well over a year, longer than that, and he is still messing with you guys.”

“I had his baby,” You sneer, glaring at him, eyes stinging. Sucking in a deep breath you continue, “Maybe it was a stupid decision, maybe I wasn’t thinking clearly because he still has his claws in deep, maybe I was worried this would be my only chance to be a mom, maybe I was pushing a boundary to see if the people who say they love me would stay-“

“You do a lot of that,” Chan nods, clenching his jaw, his own tears welling in his eyes. Minho points his eyes to the baby on your chest again, allowing you and Chan to hash this out yourselves.

Minho wouldn’t be here if he didn’t already know how you were. That was one thing none of your friends could get through their heads.

The realization that you and Hyunjin were one of the same.

Unable to let go of one another, unable to cut the cord, like a couple of sadistic addicts that fed on the drama, that needed it to live.

It appeared in both of your lives differently, Hyunjin’s lying on the forefront for the world to see, while yours lied beneath the surface, a trauma in your subconscious fueling this desire you unknowingly led your life with.

Seemingly enough, you both ended up with someone willing to set your issues aside and put up with them… Or, ignore them, and accept them because they loved you so deeply.

From the day Felix fell into Hyunjin’s trap you couldn’t begin to ever wonder why someone so innocent, someone so sweet with so much going for them would settle for a monster that would bring them nothing but stress.

After what’s just occurred today, and what has happened in the past, you meet Minho’s eyes here on the porch, holding onto a baby that wasn’t his, while wearing a ring he slipped onto your finger, and you wonder the same thing.

How did someone so sweet, with so much understanding, with so much talent, and so much going for them… How did he end up here with you?

thank you for reading, I hope you’ve enjoyed this piece!

feedback is always greatly appreciated & helps artists immensely. we also all love messages & the audience’s input, opinions, and ideas.

leave me some here! <3

if you liked this piece & want to support my writing, buy me a coffee here! <3

Content is slow right now because life is overwhelming me. Things are calming down soon and I will be back to creating full time. I can't wait. If you've stuck around with me through this, I appreciate you!

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randomfandomdreaming · 1 year

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My Reality Shifting Experience

Otherwise known as the post I meant to do after work one day and forgot.

Long post incoming. You've been warned lol

Word Count: 1,601

Please keep in mind that what works for me may not work for someone else. My spirituality, beliefs, and practices come solely from my experiences, and not what I've read on the internet. I did have to do some minor research for this post so that I could put commonly used names to what I do. I also only talk about the Star Wars galaxy as that is the only one I have actively shifted to. I know there are others, but I genuinely can't remember them.

What is "reality shifting"? Reality shifting, as a definition, is the practice of transferring or moving your consciousness to another world/universe/dimension/whatever you wish to call it. It can be fictional or not. This destination is usually referred to as your "desired reality", or DR for short. Your current reality or original reality (CR or OR, respectively) is the one you're probably reading this post from.

Here's where things start to get a little messy, at least for me. I personally put reality shifting under the same umbrella as astral projection and anything similar, as these various methods are just that to me. Different methods and names for the same exact thing: A way to interact with the areas that our universe has allowed us to have. To keep everything simple, I'll refer to these methods as reality shifting.

I've been shifting to the wondrous galaxy found in the Star Wars franchise since I was just eight years old. I first encountered Obi-Wan Kenobi and Mace Windu on the street here on our very own planet mere days after first discovering the franchise. I had only seen one episode, and had only been introduced to Obi-Wan, Anakin Skywalker, and a few other characters. Yet here was a Jedi Master introducing himself as Mace Windu before I had ever even heard of the character. That single episode was my first exposure to the franchise. I didn't even know about Master Yoda yet.

When I first started shifting, I had no control over it. Sometimes I still don't. I genuinely don't know how I do it, as I don't really use any well known methods in order to do it. The first time I ever encountered anything to do with reality shifting was completely by accident, as they found me. But the stronger my connection to the people in that galaxy became, the easier it was to make the connection and shift.

Realities overlapping is quite commonplace. There have been times where the image of Obi-Wan or someone else has quite literally flickered into existence, even including the area just round them, allowing me a glimpse of where they currently are. I've been told the same has also occurred on their end. There were even some times where It wasn't just an image, but the realities literally colliding, allowing us to actually converse as if we weren't in galaxies several parsecs away, but instead standing right next to each other in one galaxy or the other.

Some of the physical interactions I've had:

The very first meeting with Master Windu and Obi-Wan.

Someone who looked exactly like a clone trooper (height, looks, everything) once entered my history classroom in third grade to speak with my teacher. Being a child, I asked him outright if he was a clone, and he responded by saying no while laughing after looking at me scared. His expression is one of the few I will never forget.

A Patrolian in the park in my town.

A metal statue cut clean through in another park in my town. Parts of it were melted along the cut. The cut was also too straight for anything we could possibly use. It was cut in one fluid motion.

Hearing the rattle of clone armor by the lake near my apartment. My roommate heard it as well. We were the only ones around and it was the middle of the night.

Almost every physical interaction I've had has had someone else confirm that they were indeed physically there (I was the only one who saw the Patrolian).

One of the most interesting things about this experience as a whole is how much actually carries over to here. Mannerisms, beliefs, even abilities have transferred to this galaxy.

For example, with the Force, you're able to sense another being's presence, even distinguish exactly who it is. Every living thing, from the largest sentient being to the smallest organism, has their own unique presence in the Force. One thing that has carried over for me is a very diluted version (best way I can describe it) of being able to sense a presence.

Things I've learned about the SW galaxy through shifting:

They actually have a name for their galaxy. It's called the "Virdon Galaxy".

They know of other galaxies and have named them as well, regardless if the occupants of said galaxy call it that or not. They call the Milky Way galaxy (our galaxy) the "Retuura Galaxy". They also call Earth "Areen", Mercury "Bentuu", and Pluto "Virk". The other planets never came up in any conversations.

Our entire planetary system was never charted on any official star maps prior to Master Windu and Obi-Wan's visit. I was never told why.

They consider us a backwater planet and very primitive. Don't be offended. A lot of backwater planets get overlooked, and during the Clone War, that can be a really good thing sometimes.

The clones are some of the greatest people you'll ever meet. It's like having a giant family of protective brothers you didn't know you wanted. That being said, they're still soldiers, and men. They talk very coarsely. A lot. Especially when they think younglings can't hear them. Those men have absolutely no filter when they think they're just with their brothers.

The timeline we know to be canon within the franchise is not the actual timeline there. The franchise has been made for entertainment, rather than accuracy. I first met Obi-Wan while the Clone War was ravaging the galaxy. I've also met Qui-Gon Jinn, who unfortunately did perish later on in the Clone War during a mission. In the franchise, he perishes on Naboo.

Time doesn't move the same for each of our galaxies. There have been times where a month has passed here, and only a week has passed there, as well as vice versa. Time is genuinely an illusion with our galaxies.

Force abilities, whether from a natural born being of this galaxy or a Jedi from Coruscant, are weaker in our system than any other known location. Obi-Wan had once mentioned to me that being in this system dulled his senses, as if the system was almost non-existent in the Force. The Council tried to look into it, but not a single member could figure why.

These are all things I learned before I even turned ten. Yes, children have very active imaginations, but there are certain things that not even a child should be able to come up with. I was a very sheltered child, being raised in the church (I won't say what one) by my grandmother. There were certain things I never knew about, let alone even think to research. Anything related to astral projection, reality shifting, or other things considered more spiritual were never exposed to me until I was almost eighteen. So how would an eight year old youngling come up with the idea of practically being an experiment of the Jedi Order? Especially when there were physical interactions. (I say experiment because that's essentially what my training started out being. The Council wanted to see if someone from this Force-starved system could even be trained in the Force. So, quite literally an experiment.)

As for methods? That is unfortunately where my knowledge on the subject ends. Some people write out, or script, where they want to go, what will happen, everything about their desired reality. Some people prefer to meditate before attempting to shift, while others simply jump into it. What's important is that you find what works best for you. Not what works for your parent or your best friend, but for you. Trust your feelings, but do your research. If something feels right or wrong, then it probably is. There's no "one method fits all".

Don't be discouraged if you don't shift on your first try. Some people are more naturally inclined to shifting than others. It's not uncommon for someone to not shift on their first try. It takes practice. Even I still have to practice and I've been doing it for years.

I know this post is slightly all over the place, so if you need clarification on anything or have any questions, please don't hesitate to send me an ask. Please know that any asks I receive (if any) will be posted to benefit anyone else who may have a similar, if not the same, question as long as they are reasonable. Feel free to use the anon option if you don't want your blog name to be shown.

Whether you believe something like this is possible or not, please be respectful to those who believe and have experienced things themselves. Just because someone else was not around for something that someone experiences doesn't mean that it isn't real. We don't truly know what all could be out there. We can barely make it to other planets of our system with robots, let alone vessels that can transport living beings. Things such as reality shifting may seem insane to some, but they are very real to others.

#reality shifting #desired reality #shifting experience #shifting community #shifting realities #shiftblr #reality shift #randomfandomdreaming talks spirituality

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spiritofjustice · 2 months

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WIP snippet time, cause idk. I want to get back to working on this one eventually, but I'm not certain when this will be.

This is a fic about Nahyuta, 10 years old, trying to cope with Amara coming into his life shortly after Apollo is forced to leave, and the mess that comes with it.

Lotta discussion of gender dysphoria. Referenced gore in the opening passage. Opening passage is rather jarring tonally with the rest but it's intentional and it's going somewhere, probably. You can tell I wrote this while reading or shortly after finishing Wandering Stars by Tommy Orange because of the strategic use of run-on sentences, lol.

Anyways, here's all I've got for The Year of Silence.

In those days, when everything was chaos, all the adults shouted and roared like territorial warbaa’ds, trying to make themselves be the most heard, the most understood, the most followed. Father is still the warbaa’d at the front of the pack. His glare paralyzes even you as you creep among the pickets of people packed into cramped headquarters like pickled fish, your tiny frame hardly noticed at all. In those days, after Apollo is sent away to protect him from harm, after you’ve seen everything long before you were ever meant to, after your father’s rough, calloused hand clamps over your eyes a second too late as they feast upon the scene of a man’s skull cracked open like an egg, leaving splotches of red and grey brain matter unspooled and strewn across the earth, wetting with the blood of martyrs, after you can no longer stop yourself from seeing his split skull behind your eyes every time you lay down to sleep and rise up screaming, you seem to vanish entirely from your father’s vision. Even when you are right in front of him, he cannot see you. It starts out as a blessing, but when you realize you can’t make yourself visible again, you realize the weight of the curse.

You are ten years old.

Nahyuta comes in from the pouring rain, drenched from head to toe. His shoulder-length silvery hair feels like a weight on his head and his shirt and shorts cling uncomfortably to his skin, making him too aware of his clothes, enough to make his skin crawl. He rounds the corner past the hall to the living room-office makeshift combination, strewn with papers, legal books, and newspapers with stories of Dragons arrested, murdered, martyred. On the couch is his mother, cradling her not-yet swollen belly that she frets over so much already, though she isn’t showing, but everyone seems to treat her so carefully—or more carefully than before—at the behest of the baby, a tiny little cashew-sized infant Nahyuta pictures as floating in ether, waiting for its moment to emerge. Yet he also can’t picture it as ever being born, not that she would miscarry, but that everything would stay frozen in time before the baby takes its first breath.

It was wishful thinking. Things were changing every day, and all Nahyuta wanted was for everything to go back to the way it once was. Before his mother came home. Before she fell pregnant. Before Apollo was sent away, before—

Amara jolts with a little yelp, pressing her hand over her heart, marred by burn scars, and smiles shakily. “O Holy Mother, Nahyuta, you scared me,” she laughs in that breathless, uncomfortable way. “I always forget how quiet you are, little mouse.”

Nahyuta reluctantly draws closer to her. He has to pass her to get to his bedroom. As he does, she notices how soaked he really is, and clucks her tongue. “Poor thing. You were out playing, weren’t you, dear? Come. Let’s change and get dried off, okay?”

She stands, holds out her hand. Nahyuta stares at it, and she shakes it a little for emphasis. She doesn’t often take no for an answer. She’s so overbearing, like she forgot he wasn’t a toddler anymore and had grown in the years since she’d seen him last. The words sit motionless on his tongue: I can do it myself. I’m not a baby. As always, nothing comes out, so, instead, he takes her warm hand in his as she guides him towards the bathroom. She leaves for a second, comes back with fresh clothes, a blouse and skirt. Nahyuta despairs at the sight of it, but Amara doesn’t notice the looks—or, if she does, chooses to ignore them—and instead gets started on drying off his hair with an aggressive use of the towel that leaves his hair messily tousled and tangled. Nahyuta grabs the offered clothes and holds them to his chest.

“My dear, you’re going to get your dry clothes wet that way,” Amara sighs. Nahyuta doesn’t relent, but instead backs up towards the tub with it, his gaze averted towards the grimy tiled floors. Amara comes closer and snatches the clothes back out of his hands, examining the splotches of wet all over his shirt now with another click of her tongue. “Well, go on. You don’t want to stand in those horrible wet clothes, do you?” Nahyuta hesitates. “Do you want privacy, my dear?”

Nahyuta nods his head fervently. Yes. Yes, very much so, he thinks.

Amara relents for once. She sets his clothes aside on the sink. “Shy girl,” she teases, tracing her finger along his cheek. “Well, show me when you’re done. You’ll look so pretty with the clothes I got you, huh, beti?”

Nahyuta chooses not to respond at all. Amara just sighs again and steps out of the bathroom, the door that never shuts exactly right softly clicking behind her. He combs his hair, pulling at the tangles that easily form when he isn’t careful, then peels the clothes off, dries with the towel, and reluctantly dresses. The dry clothes are a nice reprieve, but that’s all. The skirt comes last, and when he’s finally got it on, Nahyuta examines himself in the mirror with a pout. He can’t climb or play in this. It’s hard not to want to take everything right off and pick out his own clothes like he usually does. But if he does, then Amara will be upset, then she’ll tell Dhurke, then Dhurke will tell him to play nice because she’s his mother and she loves him so much and just wants to bond with him so please just wear the skirts and dresses she got sometimes when she asks and isn’t it so nice that he finally has a mother again so there’s someone who understands what it’s like to be a girl?

Then comes Amara’s knock on the door. “Are you finished, dear?” Nahyuta takes a breath and opens the door, and Amara smiles. “What were we doing in here? Admiring your outfit?”

Nahyuta glances down like it’s the first time he’s noticed his clothes, like he hasn’t been painfully aware of them this whole time. Amara plants her hands on his shoulders and herds him towards her and Dhurke’s bedroom. Parking him in front of the full-body mirror, Amara stands behind him, running her fingers through his hair. She pinches a thick strand of wet hair and kneads it.

“I like that you’re growing out your hair. I think you’ll look lovely with long hair.” Amara smiles in a self-satisfied way, like she had anything to do with it. “Look at you. We look so much alike already.”

She kneels so she’s closer to Nahyuta’s face, comparing her face with his in the mirror. Nahyuta could admit that he found that to be a comforting thing, more comforting than he supposed either of his parents guessed. Far as anyone knew, Nahyuta simply resented her, or was intimidated by her, or just couldn’t bring himself to bond with her. Which was true to an extent, but it wasn’t like Nahyuta hadn’t spent many nights praying, wishing his mother was still alive because she looked so beautiful and so kind and so smart and so much like him, something he’s never been able to say about anyone else because he has albinism he inherited from her so he doesn’t look like Dhurke even a little bit but Dhurke says it’s a blessing that he looks so much like his mother, like he can be her legacy even though she’s dead, but now they know she was never dead in the first place, so where does that leave Nahyuta?

Perhaps he’s supposed to be her shadow. Nahyuta has caught Dhurke looking at the both of them many a time with that knowing grin, one Nahyuta hasn’t yet been able to parse the meaning of quite yet. He knows something his child doesn’t, but whether Amara is in on it or not isn’t yet clear. Sometimes, it seems like she is. Other times, she looks just as lost here as Nahyuta is. She’s come from a gilded cage, trapped for nearly ten years in the confines of the kingdom’s palace at the demand of Ga’ran—his aunt, not that Dhurke ever dared bring up Nahyuta’s blood relation to her like it was poison, sins of the father and all, though more aptly sins of the aunt, the supposed only living link on Nahyuta’s mother’s side. But now that Amara is back, he supposes they can all forget about the familial guilt he’s supposed to feel for daring to be Amara’s child and therefore Ga’ran’s nibling, not that Dhurke ever said he should be guilty, but that was the impression Nahyuta always had.

The family Nahyuta had before Amara had always been makeshift anyway. That was the meaning of family; not blood, but the people you chose to be around. Dhurke was his father, his real father, and that meant a lot when the rest of their family was dead or wishing death on them, but Apollo was his sibling without having to be born into the family. (S)he didn’t look anything like Dhurke or Nahyuta either, but that was a comfort to Nahyuta. Apollo didn’t have to look like anybody to be a daughter, a sister, a sibling, a brother (only in secret, only when Nahyuta and Apollo were playing together).

No one ever doubted Nahyuta was anything but Dhurke Sahdmadhi’s child. He had a stubborn streak and a passion for everything he cared for, one that burned him up so badly that sometimes all he could think about was the things he loved most. Just like Dhurke. And although adults never meant anything bad by giggling at Nahyuta for just how different he was from Dhurke—so pasty, like he’d blend in with snow! A different shade of green eyes! A different smile, a different laugh, so quiet, so innocent—it always stung more than he would admit to anyone.

But Dhurke always reminded anybody within earshot that Nahyuta was his kid, couldn’t you see that? Don’t see you how much of that Sahdmadhi passion and fight she’s got in her? And for once, it didn’t feel so bad to be Dhurke Sahdmadhi’s daughter, even if the word burned like a branding every other time he heard it. But whenever his father said it, it sounded right, like whatever Dhurke said was so. It was a proud thing to be. He could find room in his heart to be a daughter because Dhurke always saw him as Nahyuta first. Amara was so swept up in the idea of a child itself that she seemed to forget Nahyuta was real, not just a concept of a daughter she’d been daydreaming about daily for years on end, waiting for her chance to see Nahyuta again. Dhurke told him not to blame her for her overzealous excitement. Anyone would be at the thought of seeing their baby again.

Nahyuta didn’t disagree. He’d been dreaming of a day like this himself, hadn’t he? But it felt… wrong. Dhurke seemed to dance around what he knew was lying just beyond the light of Amara’s return, creeping in the shadows. Apollo was gone. Just a month, maybe a month and a half before Amara came home. And then Amara was there, and then she was pregnant, and isn’t Nahyuta excited to be a big sister?

But I was already a big sister, Nahyuta objected in his head. What about Apollo?

It was like Dhurke forgot about Apollo entirely, like the lack of safety was a mere excuse to get Apollo out of the way for Amara and the to-be-determined baby sibling. Nahyuta knew it wasn’t a lie. That day will forever be burned into his brain. A massacre that Dhurke, Nahyuta, and Apollo walked into unknowingly. Dhurke tried to get the kids away from there as quickly as possible, but it wasn’t quick enough. Nahyuta had seen it all, the overpowering stench of rot clinging to his nostrils for days after. He was the first to stumble upon the dead body of a man whose skull was cracked open by Ga’ranists, the signpost for a massacre just beyond him in the Dragons’ hideout. Datz ushered him and Apollo away after the sight of the blood filled his vision, but when Nahyuta furtively snuck a look back as Dhurke entered the hideout, and he saw more bodies strewn about carelessly inside.

#psy's no punctuation posts #writing tag #aa tag #this is also written with the challenge of giving Nahyuta virtually no dialogue aside from internal thoughts #as i said last night i was cookin with this KRKF #i really like how this is written i just haven't been motivated to get back #i need to get back to The Pawn as well which i intend to. at some point soon #just hard to get started

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fluffalpenguin · 11 months

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@arcvmonth day 24: the manga

oh man oh MAN it's vj day!!!!!

it's pretty funny how all my gifs are mostly yuri-centered huh

Under the cut:

revisiting my review of the manga from last year

Headcanons and fic/comic ideas

rambling about an old WIP

small playlist! (with write-ups!)

First of all, here's the 3,000 words analysis/blog thing I wrote last year when I first finished it.

One and a half years later, I still largely agree with it! There's some headcanons I wrote in there that I completely forgot about, lol, so I'm glad past me posted it somewhere for current me to relieve it again! (The rants were also kind of funny to re-read too)

***

Next, headcanons!

Lately, I found myself wondering about Yuto and Yuri's outfits; specifically-

...Why are they walking around Maiami with dramatic red/black capes?

After some time in the kitchen, I decided that when Yuya was younger, he was really into good versus evil roles when rehearsing his dueltainment lines. And who else better to serve as his practice opponents than his two brothers who aren't off busy making rounds at the stadium on a D-Wheel?

Tying his own fluffy, white towel around his shoulders, Yuya throws a nearby black blanket to Yuto. The oldest is initially a little embarrassed about the notion, but no one can ever say no to the baby of the Sakaki family, can they? (He'll just have to live the shame down from the twins later on... They barely even respect him as they are right now, anyway) In the middle of the duel, Yuri walks in onto the two of them after having finished his homework (or tweaking his deck). He raises an eyebrow at Yuto's appearance, but gets the gist of the situation when he sees their duel disks activated and Yuya standing on top of the sofa in a similar attire. As Yuto steals Yuya's schtick and becomes a tomato, Yuri pouts about being left out and quickly leaves to hunt for something that will allow him to join the fun. When the duel ends, Yuto passes the baton to Yuri. As he watches the two rattle off silly, goofy lines like, I will destroy the planet, the universe, all the worlds! and, Never! I'll stop you, fiend!, Yuto sighs in relief. At least Yuya now has Yuri to LARP with. Maybe Yugo would volunteer too, once he returned from driving practice and hears about it. Though, he'd likely ask to play the part of the hero himself. Anyway, Yuto's already almost in middle school; he's getting a little too old to play with costumes now. Then afterwards, at dinner, with an angelic smile Yuya says, "Yuuto, can we play like that again sometime? You look so cool with a cape!"

Yuri on the other hand, always had a tendency for the melodramatic, his own personal spin of the theatrics he's seen from his dad! Deep down he really loves playing the villain.

(This was meant to be a short description but I couldn't help putting some fic-like sentences in there tehe also yes that's a reference to the conversation between Yuya and G.O.D./Eve)

***

(warning: angst ahead)

Another headcanon I have that I want to write/draw something for is that in the postcanon where Reiji, Yuya, Isaac and Ren travel through space and time together, Yuya has moments where he falters to his grief.

He's used to his brothers commenting and nagging him on almost anything and everything (A midnight snack? Think about your complexion, Yuya!) and his world is suddenly a lot more quiet. In his hurt, he starts to avoid Ren, not wanting to be reminded of what he's lost (He doesn't feel good about it).

Eventually Reiji intervenes and Yuya opens up a little. He's been unable to properly let himself grief for his brothers. All he wants to say is that he misses them.

But he doesn't feel like he has the right to do so, having being the one to seal their fates by personally destroying the one method of bringing them back to life. He doesn't regret his decision of course, but he's unable to stop himself from feeling this way too.

It has a happy ending; Reiji convinces Yuya to talk to Ren. Yuya shares stories about Yugo at Ren's request, making the both of them laugh. Yuya realises that there are other methods of bringing back people to life, too, even if only momentarily.

But it is enough.

***

Misc hcs:

Yuya's charisma and attitude is a combination of his three brothers fawning over his cuteness from birth and Yuya being so star-struck with Yusho's performances he attempted to replicate the movements ever since he could walk.

Being the oldest, Yuto feels a sense of responsibility for his brothers and pledged to take care of them in place of his always-missing parents. However, he oft times finds himself not having to do much because Yugo and Yuri are so determined to win over Yuya's heart (and be proclaimed 'favourite brother') that they also make sure to set a good example for the youngest when possible. This causes Yuto a little bit of an identity crisis (/j it's just for fun) until he settles into his role as the househusband cook.

"All of us... are connected by... the arc of destiny!"

Reiji and Yuya are supposed to be silhouetted by their fathers, so Yuzu is meant to seem like she's looking at Yuya, but is in fact looking at Yusho. I also think VJ Yuto should be allowed to smile more!

This drawing is meant to be my love letter to the manga as a whole, and ESPECIALLY the last duel between Reiji and Yuya. I talked about it a whole ton in the review linked above already, so go check that out if you haven't!!

I was really happy with the composition when I first made this, especially with Sora/Ren/Isaac Versus the Yus mirroring their duels! (Well, okay, I know Isaac didn't duel Yuto but.... just give this to me)

Anyway I really wanted a fun and positive energy for it! Every month I think about returning to this but I get slightly demotivated when I realise I have *zero* colour references for both Ren and Isaac... Please send in your headcanons...

***

Last but not least, last month I got brain worms for another animatic/hand-drawn MV for Eve's Fight Song! I'll never ever have to time to go back to it, but I wanted to take the chance to talk about other songs that make me ill when I think about them with the manga.

1. Myth & Roid - TRAGEDY:ETERNITY

Don’t give me an eternity Even if that’s all I can believe Press pause on the flow of time In the shadow of the blink of an eye I don’t wanna fall into a sleep ‘Cause now you are my remedy Now knocking on, knocking on, knocking on my brain Even for the temptation of a nightmare Fate demands a costly reparation for its fare

Translated lyrics mostly from lyrical-nonsense, but I made some changes for better rhyming and flow yahoo!! This song is what I imagine the OP would be in my dreams when it received an anime adaptation, I've always dreamed of making my own animatic to it!!

Not just the chorus, but the ENTIRE SONG (pleeeease go take a look at the lyrics) feels like it's made for the manga please please go take a look

2. MYTH & ROID - -to the future days

I cast my wishes to the future days If we can meet on the other side of eternity… I cast my wishes to the future days What should we talk about first? Sadness and even joy will, eventually Will sleep together That's the way life is If such a world could be granted Would nobody feel hurt anymore?

Yeah I like M&R quite a bit, how'd you know

If T:E was the hypothetical OP, this is my pick for the ED theme, like AAAAAAAA for me it encompasses the yu's story so so so so so so so well, though

And:

Both despair and also life come to end eventually Take this future into your hands and let it run its course Spin it ’round…… The hands on the clock spin around Like flowers, petals falling and fluttering Once we blossom, we dissipate in the moment THE BRIDGE THE BRIDGE THE LYRICS ARGHHHHHHHH This is definitely for me, the moment when the three yus start to fade during Yuya's battle with Eve, their last conversation they have with yuya..... *lies onto the ground in a pile of misery*

Rest of the lyrics HERE shoves it into your face

3. MAISONdes - Tokyo Shandy Rendezvous

It's no joke, no it's not! Tokyo Shandy Rendezvous Even when the time comes nothing will come of it Vague truths only become melancholy Come on and snatch me away now, take on me!

This is a fun one, when I watched the PV and in the chorus Lum was spinning I instantly went wow what if that was Phantom.. and then the lyrics bared their claws and sunk them into my brain and hasn't really let go since

Unlike the above two songs, not all of the lyrics are a perfect match, of course, but I adore how in general the whimsical yet lonely nature of the song feels like it fits Phantom so well!

4. Eve - Fight Song

As the night still refuses to end, let’s dream

Last but not least the song I posted the above storyboard for! CSM fans (as well as Eve fans, lol) are probably already familiar with the song, and full lyrics here, though like the song above, only parts of the song (particularly the chorus) really resonated with the vj brainworms in my head lol Even for me, y’know Let’s make a break for the future Towards the verge of death like we pray for A boy that gave his word Today, just like back then As if there’s no more future ahead

Sigh.... Yuto, Yugo, Yuri................ Just let out your voice Let’s take it easy We don’t even know common sense, so we know the world through wise eyes These overflowing feelings, behold Greet me with an applause

I love the first half a lot, I can easily imagine Yuya saying it to the other three... and of course, the latter, from him to the world! (or perhaps even G.O.D...)

As always thanks for reading GOODBYE I GOTTA GO DRAW SOME ARC-V OCS

#arc-v #arcvmonth2023 #arcvmonth #arc-v manga #pasu does not shut up

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aces-and-angels · 1 year

Note

if you could please write prompt 14 for a female MC (can be rowan) and abel that'd be awesome! congrats on your milestone!!

tysm anon! congrats on being #1 of 3 of what i'm dubbing the impromptu shower series lol.

i wanted to explore a scenario where mc rejects abel at the carnival (dw, there's a happy ending). anyways, enjoy your extra large blurb🖤

14. Showering together; Abel x Rowan (F!MC)- 3.4k words

---

Abel was not a morning person. At least, not at first. Multiple alarms were needed in order for him to wake up in time for Mercedes' soccer practices. And Cesar's baseball games. Even Lola would occasionally need a ride whenever she had a Model UN meeting.

Years of early mornings led to him having quite the caffeine tolerance. One cup of coffee turned to two, and eventually, he would just drink it out of habit rather than to actually cure his drowsiness. However, a cold shower never failed to do the trick. He'd grit his teeth as freezing water pelted down on his bare skin, shocking him back to life.

Whatever works, right?

A cold shower to wake up- to bring him back to reality- to silence those cursed screams from the unknown, the ones that fueled his nightmares. More recently, they were needed to stop himself from thinking of her.

Rowan.

The way her lips were oh so perfectly shaped. How they would look saying his name. How soft they'd feel against his... Cold water could only do so much to keep his thoughts at bay.

~~~

"I-- I just, don't really see you like that."

His heart dropped. "Oh. Not even after... everything?" All those stolen glances. Their first kiss in his apartment. Dancing like idiots under the stars. Holding her close. Falling asleep in her arms.

"Abel..."

"No, it's okay. It's fine. I get it. No need to explain."

He can't look at her. Not now. Not when he feels like he's being ripped apart. His vision blurs with unshed tears. Not here. Not now. The joyful shrieks of children riding the merry-go-round behind them fade, giving way to the pounding in his ears.

Every breath hurts. But eventually, he musters enough strength to push that ache in his chest down. "Want to get a funnel cake?" He does his best to smile. She does the same.

"That sounds like a great idea." The walk to the food stall is quiet. He could get over her. He had to.

~~~

Things were always easier said than done.

It had been four months since everything ended. Without eminent danger occupying his time, teaching at Redwood provided a welcome distraction. Even if being the new hire meant taking all the 8AM lectures. There was enough material in the library to stay busy for hours. Enough to help him forget about her. It nearly worked, until...

"Hey," Rowan waved nervously, holding a duffel bag in her other hand. Abel blinked in shock, his mouth slightly agape.

"Ro? What are you... Why are you..." His thoughts scrambled around in his head. She's not supposed to be here. Is she? Did she come for me? No, that's silly, he reminded himself. Still, his heart skipped a beat when their eyes met. Brown and cyan. The ones he could never forget no matter how hard he tried.

"Long story short- my car broke down. Then I remembered you got a job at Redwood. The mechanic said the campus wasn't too far from the shop, so I walked," she explained.

"Y-you could've called. You didn't need to walk all the way here."

"I would've, but my phone died and I stupidly forgot to pack my charger."

"The shop didn't have a phone?"

"No, they did. But I didn't exactly have your number memorized. Or any number, really," she chuckles sheepishly.

"Heh, right..." Abel bit the inside of his cheek, unsure what to do next. He watches her mouth move as she speaks, but none of the words are registering. Say something, you dork. She's staring at you! Dios, have I been staring? Am I being weird? When did my palms get so swea-

"Uh, Abel?" Rowan waved her hand over his face, breaking him out of his spiral.

"Huh? Sorry, what were you saying?"

"I asked if there were any phone charging stations here," she restated. "I need to look up a place to stay for the night while my car gets fixed."

"You can stay with me." What am I doing?

Her eyes widen. "Really? I don't wanna trouble you."

"I-it's no trouble, I swear. The hotels around here aren't cheap. Besides, friends give each other emergency places for refuge," he reassures. Friends. The word still felt bitter on his tongue.

She searches for something in his face- any sign of hesitation. Finding none, she slumps her shoulders in relief. "Well, thank you. Really. I'll be out of your hair before you know it, promise."

"Right," he mumbles, an uncomfortable feeling settling in his chest. "Follow me. I've got one more lecture to give, but you can wait in my office. I'll come get you when I'm done."

"Actually... could I sit in on your class?"

"You want to sit in on a two hour lecture about the Sioux tribe?" He could barely hide the disbelief in his voice.

"Yeah, why not? I've never taken an archaeology course before... Plus, Jocelyn said you weren't too boring to listen to," she snorts. He can't help but laugh as well.

"What a stellar review," he smirks. His eyes glance down at his wrist watch. "C'mon, we're about to be late for class."

"Aye, aye professor."

The next two hours proved to be one of the toughest lectures Abel's ever had to present. He's spoken at several conferences with distinguished audience members without breaking a sweat. But here he was, stumbling over his words anytime he glanced at Rowan- and his eyes were hellbent on landing right where she was.

Back row, seven seats from the center. It was hard to look at her, yet it seemed impossible to look away. His nerves dried out his mouth despite the many sips of water he'd taken. The bottle he brought was empty before he made it through half his presentation.

"How about a quick break?" Excited murmurs fill the lecture hall at his suggestion. "I'll take that as a yes. We'll pick things back up in ten minutes." Some students left the room, while others chatted with their friends. With the attention off him, he could finally breathe easy.

Standing at the podium proved to be too much to handle. He made his way to his desk, prepared to finish the rest of his lecture from behind his computer monitor. A small shield for his wandering eyes.

"Here," Rowan places a new water bottle on his desk. Abel looks up. Any calmness he felt was gone, replaced with that incessant flutter of his stomach. So much for the shield.

"Oh, um, thank you," he bowed his head slightly, busying his hands by fiddling with the label. "How'd you-"

"You kept stopping yourself from reaching for your bottle during your spiel on the Standing Rock reservation," she answers.

A hint of a smile crept on his face. "You were paying attention?"

"Of course I was," Rowan scoffs, as if it was obvious. "This stuff is fascinating and you do brilliant work, professor."

Abel's cheeks warm, undoubtedly turning red. "You've only seen my work once."

"And it's brilliant. Take the compliment, Abel. False modesty never looked good on you."

"Hey, everything looks good on me," he jokes.

"There he is," she grins. A swarm of students re-enter the room all at once. "Guess that's my cue. Good luck with the rest of the lesson." His eyes linger on her frame as she climbs up the stairs back to her seat. A hush falls throughout his class, all heads now turned in his direction. From her spot, Rowan gives him a thumbs up. Taking a deep breath, he stands and walks towards the podium.

"Now where were we?"

---

Back in his apartment, Abel reheats some leftovers on the stove while Rowan takes a shower upstairs.

This is fine. Totally fine. Just a friend helping out another friend. Nothing more.

Lost in thought, he doesn't notice the sound of the bathroom door opening nor Rowan's footsteps heading towards the kitchen. "Smells good," she comments.

Startled, Abel jumps, dropping the wooden spoon he was using to stir the food. A small, high-pitched shriek escapes his lips. "AH! When did you get there?!"

"Sorry- I forgot that you're easily frightened," she bites her lip, suppressing a smirk.

"I am not-" his protest dies as she gives a pointed look at him, then at the wooden spoon on the ground. "... I'm just not used to having another person here, that's all." He bends down to pick up the spoon and tosses it in the sink.

Still fighting the urge to smile, Rowan simply nods. Instead, she moves to stand next to him. "What'cha making?"

"I'm reheating some chicken stir fry. I made way too much, so I've been stuck eating this for the past few days," he answers, grabbing another spoon from the drawer. "Do you want anything else? I should have enough stuff in my fridge to make something new. Or I could order some takeout?"

"You don't have to do that."

"No, really, I-" his words fall short as he turns, realizing how close they are. Every tiny freckle on her face was crystal clear. The faint scent of her shampoo mixed wonderfully with the air, overwhelming his senses. A loose strand hung awkwardly at her brow and his hand itched to push it aside.

"Abel?" She called out softly, peering up at him.

"Yeah?"

"You okay? You look... spacey."

"Y-yeah," he reassures, snapping his head back towards the stove. "I'm fine. Long day, I guess." His voice lacks any sort of conviction.

Rowan's brows furrow ever so slightly, but she decides not to pry any further. "I hear ya. Teaching. Having your car break down. It all takes a lot out of you."

"It really does," he sighs, unsure if he feels relieved or disappointed. "Anyways, food's ready."

Her face brightens instantly. "One of my favorite set of words."

Her mood is infectious, clearing any lingering awkwardness left between them. "Sit. I'll grab the plates."

"How kind of you," she jests playfully, taking a seat at the dining table. Abel quickly sets the table and scoops a hefty portion onto her plate along with a side of rice. "I think I could cry right now."

He snorts. "Tears of joy, I hope."

"Joy. Merriment. Bliss. You name it. I'm feeling it." Rowan makes quick work of her food. Each bite is followed by a satisfied hum. A quarter of her plate is gone by the time Abel manages to sit down. The corner of his mouth quirks upwards. "Guess I did a good job."

"Fantastic," she corrects him, putting another forkful of rice in her mouth. Following her lead, Abel began eating as well. Somehow, the flavors he'd grown tired of tasting for the past week were now vibrant. As if something breathed new life into the dish. Across the table, Rowan dances happily in her seat.

---

"Absolutely not."

"But-"

"No."

"But Abel-"

"No, you are not sleeping on the couch! What kind of host would I be if I let you do that?"

"What kind of guest would I be if I kicked you out of your own room after coming here unannounced," Rowan counters, just as adamant.

Abel huffs, exasperated. "Well, I only have the one room."

"I'm aware," she drawls.

"And I'm not changing my mind."

"Me either."

He crosses his arms over his chest while she rests her hands on her hips. Both stare the other down, waiting for someone to break. The silence between them is palpable. He squints, his eyes already beginning to burn. Stupid contacts. A shit-eating grin spreads on Rowan's face. Unable to fight the urge any longer, he blinks with a frustrated groan. "Ugh, this is pointless!"

"You're just saying that cause you lost. Have fun in your room," she taunts.

"I will be having fun right here, thank you very much," he protests, taking a seat on the couch.

Rowan gapes at him. "Hey! You can't do that!"

"Yeah I can. This is my apartment."

"Exactly. Your apartment. Your room," she bickers, trying to pull him off the couch. He firmly plants his feet to the floor, not letting her move him an inch.

"You... are... so... stubborn..." she grunts as she futilely pushes against his shoulder with her back. Eventually, she lets out a tired sigh. "Fine. You win."

"Thank you. The blankets-"

"But so do I.''

"Huh?"

"I can't make you leave this couch just as much as you can't make me take your room. So I guess we're both taking the couch tonight," she states matter-of-factly.

"But- you- that's-"

"A great resolution. Thanks Ro. You're welcome, Abel," she finishes for him. "Now- do you wanna keep arguing or do you wanna tell me if you have any more pillows?"

"Side closet. Third shelf. The blankets should also be there," he answers, defeated. This is still fine. Totally fine.

"Great," she beams. It takes little time for them to transform the couch into a makeshift bed. Rowan spreads the sheets over the cushions as Abel folds down the back of the couch. For added legroom, he pushes the footrest to the edge. "See? This looks cozy!"

"You know what else is cozy?"

She smacks his arm. "Quit it. We already agreed on the couch situation."

"Fine. It was worth a shot," he grumbles. Satisfied, Rowan moves to her side, grabbing a knitted blanket from the stack on the floor. She settles into the cushions. Meanwhile, Abel stands, hesitant.

Rowan raises an eyebrow at him. "It's this or that cozy room of yours. C'mon, I don't bite." He gulps. His movements are stiff as he maneuvers his way onto the couch, being extra cautious not to accidentally touch her. He mentally cursed himself as he tried to make himself as small as possible. Why didn't I buy the bigger couch when I had the chance?

Side by side with only a few inches between them, Abel lays very still on his back. "So... did you hear anything back from the car shop?"

"A guy called and said they should be done with the repairs by noon. Thanks for letting me borrow your charger, by the way."

"No problem."

"And for letting me stay here."

He laughs breathlessly. "You don't have to keep thanking me for that."

"Well I'm probably gonna do it at least four more times, so get used to it," she chuckles alongside him. As their laughter dies down, another question pops into his head.

"Hey, Ro?"

She shifts to face him. He stays pointedly still. "Yeah?"

"I didn't ask before but... what are you doing here in California?"

There's a brief pause, as if she's contemplating how to answer. "You could say I was on a business trip."

"A business trip?"

"To Colorado. Ava's coven has a contact there. I drove to buy some stones from them," she elaborates.

"Stones?"

"Right. The stones they have are the ones we use to make charms to ward off corruption. It's the best material that absorbs the Power in its pure form."

"Ah. So you're still at it then? Hunting down horrors?"

She nods. "Some days are better than others. Right now, things have been quiet. But that only lasts for so long. There's always a part of me waiting for shit to go sideways. The only thing I can do is make sure I'm there to fix things."

"And does that make you... happy?"

"I have purpose," she says, resolute. "More than I did when I was hunting them blindly. That's something I can't let go of." She shifts again, causing the cushions to dip beneath him. "What about you? Are you happy here?"

"Course I am," he answers too quickly. "Redwood is amazing. The library is incredible. They have enough funding for any research I want to do. More opportunities, resources. Couldn't be more thrilled."

"Guess that's why it's been so hard to reach you," she mutters. He's surprised by the sadness in her tone.

"The job keeps me busy."

"So busy that you couldn't even say goodbye?" His head whips towards her. There are no tears. Just someone looking for answers. "Jocelyn was the one who told me, y'know. I didn't know you were gone for a whole week."

Guilt floods through him. "I- I just had to leave. I had to."

"Was not talking to me a must too?" Her question is only met with silence. "When I saw you on campus, I thought for sure you would run off in another direction. Instead, you offer up your apartment."

"What are you saying?"

"I'm saying I'm confused! We're friends one day, you leave the next. We don't talk for months, and now I'm here. I thought you hated me," she blurts out.

"I don't hate you," he whispers.

"Then why?"

He averts his gaze, choosing to focus on the ceiling instead. "I don't hate you. But being around you- I couldn't handle it. I needed a fresh start. Somewhere to go so... so I could..."

"So you could what?" The air was thick with tension. Brown and cyan eyes met his, unwavering.

"So I could get over you."

"Oh."

"Yeah." Neither of them know what to say after that. This was a line he never thought he'd cross. Not again. "It didn't work," he laughs dryly, his voice hollow.

"Abel..."

"I tried. I really did. Buried myself in work. I even applied for a research grant. I was doing everything I've always wanted to do, but it still wasn't enough. Then you show up. And even though I've been a mess the whole day, this is the first time I've really felt happy since moving here." He gives her a sad smile. "I know you only-"

"I lied," she cuts him off suddenly.

"What?"

"I lied before. On campus. When I said I didn't call because I didn't remember your number. I knew it. 971-542-3378."

"Um... I forgive you?"

"No, listen to me. I've dialed and deleted that number more times than I can count. I didn't know why you left, but I knew it hurt when you did. I wanted so badly to hate you, but I just missed you instead."

He hung onto her every word. The hope he dared not to breathe life into now flickered inside him. "Just like I did?"

She nods. "Just like you did." The implication was clear.

"But- at the carnival, you said-"

"I didn't think I was ready. You deserve someone who is. I'm not saying it'll be easy. I still can't leave Westchester and I don't expect you to move back, but- mmph-" His lips crash into hers before she can finish.

Her surprise melts away and she leans into him. There's so much he wants to tell her and he does as he moves his mouth in time with hers. I never thought I'd get to do this again.

She gasps, allowing him to slip his tongue inside.

I missed you too.

He tilts his head, deepening their kiss.

I love you.

He moves to cup her cheek, relishing the warmth beneath his fingertips.

I love you.

Their breath becomes one- bodies pressed close enough that she can feel just how fast his heart is racing.

I love you.

---

*one month later*

The morning light peeks through the blinds, casting a soft glow over the abandoned sheets on the bed. A pair of footsteps follow Abel towards the bathroom. He smiles as Rowan wraps her arms around his waist. Through the mirror, he notices her tired eyes, barely open. "You don't have to be up yet," he says softly, rubbing the back of her hand with his thumb.

She shakes her head with a yawn, hugging him tighter. "I wanted to see you before you left." He hums contently in response. Her feet drag along the tile as he walks over to the shower. Gently, he pries himself away from her just long enough to strip himself bare. He takes care of her next, adding her clothes to the pile. Together, they step through the shower curtain, returning to each others arms. He laughs as she forces him to bend down so she can lather more shampoo into his hair. It's a morning not unlike the others, only this time, the water runs warm.

---

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knockyasocksoff2022 · 11 months

Text

Dancing with My Love

Hi! I’m back with yet another relationship reveal. This one has more plot though, I promise. (I meant to post this way earlier but I completley forgot lol)

under cut due to length (2,117 words)

Kunikida's Perspective

Tonight we're at an event space in between Port Mafia territory and our territory. It has most of us on edge, except that bastard Dazai, of course, he's as cool as a cucumber. Humming that damn suicide song of his. I've given up.

The purpose of the event space is to hold the ball that we, the Armed Detective Agency and the Port Mafia are hosting as a celebration of peace.

(A/N: Totally not a Fukumori anniversary celebration in disguise)

I haven't seen the president all day. He said had an important meeting with Mori. The rest of us are in charge of the decorating and the Port Mafia are in charge of food and refreshments. The food will come in later but for now the decorating is done and it's almost time for the other guest to arrive.

"Everyone, excellent job with the decorations. You should do anything you need to get ready because everyone else will be here very soon." I tell them and they disperse to get change and so do I.

------------------------ A FEW MINUTES LATER ----------------------

"Dazai! WHAT IS THAT!?" The words are out of my mouth before I've even fully processed the man's outfit.

"Oh, it's my outfit." He says casually.

I look round at everyone else in standard suits and Yosano and Kyouka in dresses, all appropriate black tie event attire. Not to say Dazai's isn't fitting of the style of the event but . . .

"Yes, but what is it?"

"Why Kunikida-kun, you don't know?" He's teasing me and I feel my fists clench at my sides.

"No, I do not."

"It's perfect attire for a ball." He spins around joyfully.

I know my opinion won't do anything for him anymore, he's just too far gone. "Whatever, just try not to be too weird."

"Keep your expectations realistic, Kunikida." Yosano whispers in my ear. I know she;s right but I had to say it anyway.

—-----------------------------

The ball has been going very well so far, everyone is peacefully eating, drinking and dancing. However the night is still young so I keep my guard up.

Chuuyas P.O.V.

We arrive a little later than everyone else. I would say we were being fashionably late but it was really because Koyou had to drag me out of hiding with the promise of expensive wine. Koyou swats me in the arm, clearly in disapproval of my bitter and distressed expression.

"Come on Chuuya, I refuse to let you seethe like a wet cat all night. You are going to have fun for god's sake."

"Ouch! Hey, you know I wouldn't even be here if it wasn't for the wine."

"And a certain detective."

I just stop myself from punching the other executive in the arm by grabbing a glass of wine. She just smiles knowingly and walks off to mingle. I head over to the table with drinks and pour myself a glass of excellent smelling red, soon I find myself unconsciously scanning the crowd for the aforementioned detective.

Ah, there he—

Fuck!

What!? That tacky, sneaky, bastard! What!? How could he!? I at least deserve a warning first!!!!

I gulp down my wine and grab another glass while I attempt to control my mental sputtering. Normally I would take my time to appreciate the flavour but not tonight, right now I need lots of alcohol, as quickly as possible.

My husband stands next to Mori and Koyou, talking to Elise, the sight itself is unsurprising except for the fact that . . .

He's wearing a long flowing cape, the hood down so his face (and flawless black eyeliner) shows, the light making the hints of red in his deep brown eyes show. The cape is black with a silky looking red lining, and when he moves I see that underneath is a white dress shirt with a red ribbon to match the cape, and black pants that I assume are high waisted but I can't tell because . . . he's wearing a fucking corset. A corset! Who does that!? (Who does that and looks so good?) It's black with red stitching and trim, pulled tightly so that it shows off the gentle curve of his slim waist and hips.

I would say that I can't believe he would do this to me but I can. I sigh, swallowing my feelings with another glass of wine and head over to the group.

Why?

To ask my lovely husband for a dance, of course

Dazai's P.O.V.

The party is going well, my colleagues have drifted off to mingle, (I didn't miss that Atsushi and Ryūnosuke found each other, like magnets, almost immediately.) leaving me standing alone.

I hear small footsteps behind me, a swish of hair and a dress, then larger footsteps. Mori-san and Elise-chan.

My old boss greets me with a small smile and I return it. I can't help it, the satisfaction of my plan is just too much.

I allow myself to be temporarily occupied by Elies's complaining about the itchy dress Mori made her wear and how she wanted the red dress with black ruffles and not the red dress with black ruffles because she thought the former would match better with Mori-san's black suit and dark red dress shirt.

I agree with her as Koyou joins us. I can tell it's her by her footsteps as well. Elise jumps into her arms momentarily, for a hug.

We talk for a few moments before I find myself not paying attention, staring out at the rest of the room.

In the crowd I see Chuuya, as expected he's over at the wine table pouring himself a red into one of the fancy goblets that the Port Mafia brought. I go back to the conversation pretending not to pay my husband any mind.

I watch him from the corner of my eye. He's wearing the outfit I helped him pick, a custom tailored suit over a blood red dress shirt, a matching hat, with red stitching and trim and his favourite choker, which he refused to forfeit despite the formal nature of the occasion. I'm not complaining, I love it.

As I watch his eyes find me, and his expression changes so subtly most wouldn't notice it, but I do. His eyes widen a bit and his brows twitch. I keep my composure as he slugs down his wine (pun absolutely intended) and pours another even larger glass. He takes me in as he drinks eyes travelling discretely over my body, lingering on my torso. All part of my plan.

He drains the second glass, setting it on a table absently and walks confidently over to us.

Mori and Koyou smirk and busy themselves with small talk. A few of my colleagues, Kunikida and Yosano are staring, (Ranpo's too occupied with food and he already knows what's going on, he eats with Kyouka and Kenji, who's complimenting Gin on her pretty dress.), as well as several members of the port mafia.

He approaches us and stands directly in front of me, "May I have a dance, Osamu?"

"I suppose." I tease and he sweeps me up onto the dance floor. And then we're dancing. Moving in tandem with each other, perfectly in sink. Aware. Of each other, of Chuuya's hands on my back as they slip lower. Dancing with Chuuya is as easy as breathing. I feel the rest of the world melt away like ice on a summer day, slowly at first but then we're completely alone. I can't see anything but Chuuya. I don't want to see anything but Chuuya.

I break the silence first, whispering in his ears as we spin close to each other, "We must be drawing a lot of attention."

Chuuya just "hmms" then adds, "Probably because you wore that stupid thing."

"Ahh, it is not stupid, oh sorry, I forgot that dogs are known for their lack of taste." As I finish the sentence I feel my feet leave the ground, and my entire body becomes light.

"Chuuya?" His name comes out breathy, I feel my heartbeat and breathing quicken.

He wraps his arms around my waist, the warm weight a contrast to the cool airy feeling of Chuuya's anti gravity. "Just hold on to me."

"Always."

"And don't activate No Longer Human, or we'll both fall." We're floating probably eight or so metres off the ground now but the event space's ceilings are high and I know Chuuya knows what he's doing.

Dancing up here is worlds different, we move so much more freely and the music sounds cleaner and closer but at the same time like we're underwater, it's not a bad feeling. We dance for a while more, I don't think I could ever get used to this.

"You can let go now." Chuuya says

"What?" I wouldn't mind suicide like this but his words surprise me, he's never been encouraging of my attempts.

"Trust me, Osamu. Let go."

I do. The weight leaves my body completely. I'm afraid for a second that I'll drift off but I don't. I stay exactly where I am. I twirl experimentally and the movement feels exactly the same as it would on the ground, I'm completely in control, like there's an invisible floor beneath me.

A child-like laugh leaves my lips, as I climb invisible stairs and turn back flips all the way back to Chuuya. I'm aware that I'm being immature and that everyone's probably watching but I don't care.

The last time we did this was a time I'd rather forget. But Chuuya's actions made it unforgettable. I hadn't thought about it in a very long time.

Suddenly Chuuya pulls me back to him so close the people below probably think we're kissing, not that I mind. I want him to kiss me, to have his gentle lips, hot against my own. He leans into my neck, whispering in my ear, "Do you know what that stupid corset is doing to me, what you're doing to me?"

I remember the garment I'm wearing and my original intent with a giggle, "Of course, that's exactly why I wore it."

The look in his eyes is not amused but hungry, "In that case . . ." he presses his lips to my own pulling me even closer. I can feel him taking back control of my gravity and I let him, this is after all, what I wanted, "why don't we give them a scene, then?"

I nod almost too slightly but he feels it and continues. When we stop to breathe and I take my chance to pull him close to me. It's amazing, kissing like this. I don't even have to bend down. "Mmm, bet Chibi likes being tall doesn't he?"

Chuuya just growls and continues more forcefully, biting my lip.

"Bad dog!"

He pulls away, a testing smile on his lips, "No kisses if you're going to insult me."

"So sensitive slug, master was just joking."

He leans in again, "Yeah but we should probably stop, I don't want to scandalise Kyouka. And aren't some of your coworkers basically kids?"

"Awww, Chibi's so responsible."

The imaginary bubble disappears and I can see the other party guest again. They all look appropriately shocked as Chuuya floats back to the ground, carrying me bridal style.

Kunikida looks like he's about to explode, oh right. He's the only member of the agency who still thinks I'm straight, well thought.

I look around the room unable to keep the smile off my face, "What?" no one says anything, I can hear Ranpo munching on a chocolate bar he brought and the sound of flipping pages of the book that the president's reading. They both know about our relationship already. The president found out from Mori when I was still in the Port Mafia and Ranpo deduced it shortly after I joined the Agency, although he never guessed that I worked there. . "We're married." Chuuya and I speak at the same time.

Chaos breaks out across the room. I can feel Chuyya tugging my arm, clearly wanting more, I do too. "Now excuse us, we have to go." he informs the now rowdy crowd.

It isn't the quiet slipping away we'd hoped for but it works as well as anything. "Yeah, we're leaving." Chuuya grabs a bottle of wine and we both dash out of the venue, excitement building as we run.

He looks back, meeting my gaze. I see myself in his eyes, someone I like. This me that's happy, this me that can be with the one I love, this me that is capable of love . Chuuya and I both know that we'll have huge messes to clean up at work but for now, we only have each other, and that's all I could ever ask for.

(A/N: Writing this inspired me to make a one shot of they're first time dancing together, so expect that out soon.)

#Soukoku relationship reveal #soukoku marriage reveal #Dazai Osamu #Dazai Chuuya - nee Nakahara #Dazai Osamu in a Corset #Corset Osamu Dazai #relationship reveal #My writing #knockyasocksoff2022's writing #bungou stray dogs #bungo stray dogs #bsd

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astorythatwritesitself · 2 years

Text

Shepard AMA Round 4

Even better this time because I've found a keyboard to use with my phone :D As usual, using @spookyvalentine 's list of questions! (Note: A few were answered already & just cut and pasted lol)

Round 1

Round 3

1. When was the last time Shepard cried? - Just after Thane's death. This is another one that may get a full drabble treatment, but the gist of it is: goes to pray because she's taken a lot of hits recently, seeing her husband killed (and because of my developing thoughts on Kepral's and all, his health had probably been improving or at least moderating)? She barely keeps composure in the hospital and by the time she's there to talk to... like her patron goddess at this point, she can get in like three words before just. Completely breaking. Like- she's definitely shed plenty of tears, but usually managed to keep it relatively contained and quiet; this is full on finally raging at the situation she's been herded into and truly swallowed by grief and despair for a little bit.

But there's work to be done, so once she's cried out the worst of it, she picks herself up and gets back to the Normandy. No, she's not fine- but everyone's losing loved ones right now. Hers isn't more special, and she can help prevent there being more.

2. First impression of Miranda—and does it change? - Dangerous. Very, very dangerous and might sell you to satan for one corn chip. While the impression of dangerous doesn't fade, she does come to to respect Miranda's bluntness, and is delighted to count her among 'loyal ally' once Miri gives her resignation on the Collector base.

3. The game Shepard will always win: - She's got some exceptional balance and flexibility that make her a Twister champ.

4. Do they like living on a ship? -It's made up the bulk of her life, disliking it was never really a choice lol. She definitely enjoys it though, it's nice that there's always others around. Even in an apartment situation, she'd find anything else unsettlingly lonely for a while.

5. What skills come naturally to them? - Cooperation and diplomacy, she has a very strong, inherent sense of fairness that is damn near impossible to turn off.

6. What abilities have they worked hard to hone? - All her combat skills, particularly her sniping and biotics. The biotics are an extra point of pride towards the end, since she pretty much had to relearn using them from scratch after being brought back. Also, her language skills, you don't give a debate speech in turian dialect as a kid for nothing!

7. The very first time they killed someone: - At about twenty, and it's not a particularly dramatic story. She was fresh and on a small mission to bolster protection of a colony that had been facing batarian raids. She was positioned high up and far, and did her share of picking off slavers as they came along.

8. Shepard walks into a bakery. What do they order? oh my god I forgot this one

Big slice of black forest cake.

9. How did they feel about being promoted to Spectre? Hollow. Like- Adrian knew, logically, she ought to be overjoyed, this was the pipe dream her parents had had in mind for her, the long shot that was never going to happen but she'd kind of been prepared for just in case. It meant the world to Anderson. It meant so much for humanity. It was a magnificent step in how she could serve the galaxy. She tried to rationalize it as shock, but even to her dying day, she could only muster up empty indifference to that moment.

10. Favorite drinking buddy and why: - Wrex. 1- he can keep up even after the cybernetics. 2- he always stayed pretty calm and had the best stories. (Thane's probably second, even though neither of them go hard- she just very much enjoys barside flirting with him.)

11. What does Samara think of Shepard? - Fairly respectful. Admires Shepard's aim to preserve peace but willingness to fight should the situation call for it, but also finds her a little... overly attached and sentimental, as it were.

12. Where do their thoughts linger? The past, present, or future? - Present, mostly. She doesn't like dwelling on the past, and while she thinks of the future... well, she always dealt with a serious sense of forshortened future, even before dying the first time. Best just to focus on the here and now.

13. It’s Shepard’s turn to cook. What’s on the menu? How does it go? - Cold sandwiches and that's if you're lucky. She's fucked up MREs, over or undercooks meat, and just never nailed timing and often winds up burning things, and once managed to start a fire in the pursuit of sauted onions. (That said, especially being a biotic, she has like 5 varieties of candy and protein bars on her person at any given time. Can't cook, but her squad can always count on having snacks during a mission!)

14. Describe Shepard’s funeral:

Which one?

Her first death was a decent but overall average affair- widely recognized, several speeches from Alliance brass, her parents, Anderson, even some words from the asari Councilor. Some from the Normandy crew, of course. But it comes and goes in a couple of hours, that's about it.

After the battle of London?

The Normandy crew hold one after the crash, even though the ship needs repairs. It won't be confirmed for a while, but they know Shepard's gone, Chakwas has a bottle of brandy and they've got time, now.

There are countless smaller memorial services held throughout the galaxy over the following year, and Shepard is mentioned but not singled out in many- one for lost Alliance soldiers, one for casualties of the Citadel, for casualties of the Reaper war in general, for Spectres killed in action. The dedicated service isn't until the following April 11th.

Shepard had stipulated, that should she be KIA and no remains could be recovered, just make it a celebration of life, no symbolic burial or anything (If there were remains: cremation & scatter at sea. No body this time.) 'Talk, get Ash to read something if you can. Whatever gives everyone closure, I'm not planning on hanging around.'

She hadn't been slacking in helping people before her first death, but her undertakings throughout 2 & 3 see an outpouring of people from across the Milky Way whose lives she directly impacted, there's a solid couple hours for open talk before the prepared speeches start to account for this.

Hannah and Adrian Shepard try to give a second eulogy for their child, and it's painfully apparent that while never outright estranged, there was a rift that never did properly mend.

All the Normandy survivors say something or another. Wrex is the only one who doesn't start straight up crying in some fashion. Garrus can't make it through, and Joker just passed up speaking entirely. Ashley is the last, and ends the event around twilight with a reading of The Old Astronomer.

15. What draws Morinth to Shepard? - Novelty. First human spectre, back from the dead, so notoriously... nice; drawing in and corrupting Shepard would be delicious.

16. How well does Shepard know Kai Leng? - Not at all.

17. During a mission, Shepard breaks an arm. Badly. How do they handle it? - That's the risk you take on the field. She doesn't like it by any means, but she'll get it set as best as possible, carry on, and wonder if this will be the new most bullshit thing Chakwas has had to fix on her. (It isn't- that honor still goes to 'being doused head to toe in thresher maw acid and still not coming back to the ship for 4 hours')

18. Three rumors about Shepard:

- Paid off by aliens to sabotage human interests.

- Relies on bribery and threats, her charisma is just Alliance propoganda to get the wider community to accept such a high-profile human.

- A small but very dedicated one: Is the unnamed photographer behind a number of landscape photos that have appeared in Fornax over the last 7 years, as some of them are very hard to access unless you're military or similar, and how the fuck else did Fornax get images of Ilos before anywhere else?!

19. Table manners? - Flawless when they have to be, decorum was definitely among her lessons growing up. But on an ordinary day... eh. Not a slob, but she will definitely talk with her mouth partially full.

20. What was their first reaction to seeing their glowing scars in 2? - Very fucking unnerved. Of everything that's happened to her, that's probably what gave her the most pause, and she was /very/ glad to see them fade.

21. Why did Nihlus choose to nominate Shepard as a Spectre candidate? - She was pushed on him, really. He was wary about human candidates, considering Anderson's failure, but the Alliance never eased up. Combined with Shepard's history and closeness with Anderson, he felt he'd at least give a token trial. Either she failed and he could at least say he tried, or she surprised them and the Spectres got a solid new addition. Nothing could possibly go wrong with that plan, right?

22. Describe their posture: Most of the time- tall and confident- shoulders back, head up, alert and attentive. Often rigid, even when she's supposedly 'relaxing', ready to go at a moment's notice. (Thane's the only one who's really seen Adrian truly 'down'- she tends to slump and curl into herself a bit and rely on whatever's nearby for support- chair, desk, him, the wall...)

23. Was Shepard born to lead, or was command hoisted upon them? - Yes. With Adrian being a Spacer/Sole Survivor, it's very much a 'yes to both' sort of deal. Her family has longstanding military service, and in my timeline, her parents both served in the Relay 314 incident/First Contact War, her father in particular gaining some notoriety, and her parents definitely pushed for their child to be an absolute pinnacle of humanity. They never thought Spectre was actually a possibility, but they damn well ensured she'd be a good candidate anyway.

She rarely specifically sought out leadership, though- but that wound up being part of why she so often wound up in charge of things. She was competent but not overbearing, good at mediating but kept things in line once a decision was made, and didn't act like she was entitled to boss anyone around. She just gets shit done and people tended to flock to that.

24. Do they fall in love easily? - Define love lol.

Ok for romantic love, no- Adrian would defined herself along the lines 'aromantic until proven otherwise' if pressed for specifics; Thane really took her by surprise. (But under other/broader definitions, oh yes. She loves freely and frequently, even if she never puts it into so many words. Really excited to answer the love languages question in the other set xD)

25. Does Shepard dream of the starchild, or does it take a different form? - So I'm workshopping some ideas with this thing & it's also slowly leaning into just declaring Clarke's Third Law the rule for handling ME's relationship with telepathic/telekinetic shit-

All this to say yes, and yes. It first appears as a child, because it's not used to making connections to individuals and it's learning on the fly- humans are protective of their young, right? But it becomes apparent Shepard isn't more protective of kids than anything else in general, so it slowly shifts tactics- the voices of loved ones, glimpses of old enemies, but it still morphs, until the final confrontation: it imitates Adrian, whole and hale like she'll never be again.

26. A lesson that was hard to learn:

You can't save everyone.

It's arguable if she ever did learn that- related to the above, if she ever did, it was only while talking to some abandoned AI as she was dying.

27. Who was their first crush? - When her parents were stationed to the Citadel when she was around 15, there was a salarian in the area she was kind of into, but for very many reasons that never went anywhere.

28. How do they feel about all the new cybernetics Miranda installed? - Honestly she really digs them. Like- yes it was unconsentual but Adrian never bought into that Ship of Thesus cyberpunk moralizing bullshit. She'd always been fine with bodily augmentation of all sorts, and had even had some done early on in her career.

29. Does Shepard remember dying? - Yes. Goes with an answer from the first set I did, it's slated for a writeup 👀

30. One of the dumbest things they’ve ever done: 'Okay no trust me guys I can drive this at a 90 degree angle right up a mountain this thing kicks ass-'

That was her first ground mission with Garrus and Tali. They were upside down for ten minutes and got so lost, Joker couldn't find them for another 30.

31. What is their favorite story to tell? The one that they get such a kick outta sharing that the gang could probably recite it from memory by now - Garrus and Tali actually do get in on this one since they were there- 'so I managed to talk a completely indoctrinated Saren into shooting himself-'

(Garrus also gets to mouth along to one from the SR2 era, because it was impressive and becomes meaningful but also lost all gravity to him immediately because he got to see Shepard at possibly her most flustered ever as a direct result of it: 'It seemed like an easy enough one, we might not even get invovled in combat, but it'd get Thane some ground time and see how he fit in, you know? But then there's this nest of Eclipse mercs...')

32. What kind of drunk is Shepard? Affectionate, weepy, belligerent… - Loud and actually close to relaxed for once in her life.

33. Describe their laugh: Warm- like sunlight from late on a summer day over a fast river.

34. What was it like, facing a reaper on foot? - Numb. Like, logically? Terrifying, but so much was happening that she just kind of bypassed terror into pure flow. If asked about it later, she genuinely can't recall anything about the fight.

35. Are there any friendships that form among the crew that surprises Shepard? - Wrex and Ashley. Before Virmire, Wrex had been one of the first to join in Ash's attempt at a book club, and even after, the two seemed to butt heads but like, in a respectful rival sort of way; and they always seemed to fight well together.

Of the SR2 crew: A few (Jack winds up hanging out with Samara- ostenssibly to see if she can make her crack; Grunt spends hours in the armory chatting with Jacob), but the standout moment was Shepard coming back in from a long ground mission to refuel on snacks, only to find a moderately inebriated Garrus and Miranda... basically comisserating on daddy issues. She never brought it up to them. They never said anything to her. But she did ask EDI about it like a week later to make sure she didn't have some kind of hallucination.

36. What sort of thrills do they purposely seek out? - Fight Big Thing On Foot. Yeah, anyone can take out something with a tank canon, but bringing it down with smaller guns and way less armor is phenomenal.

37. The first speech Shepard ever gave. How’d it go? Poorly, but she was like 13. Mock debate about how humanity should go about interacting with wider galactic society. Shepard was assigned the more... 'pro-human' side. Her speech itself was technically fine (re: prepared by her dad because 'the Shepards have a reputation to maintain, dear'), but she failed & got a hell of a lecture for giving it in a (very broken, admittedly) turian dialect.

38. Do they celebrate holidays? Which is their favorite? - She's almost always up for celebrating a holiday, but her favorite is, oddly, New Year's! All of them. She likes the energetic, hopeful vibes they give everyone, and how it seems to be one that shows up in all species and tends to carry similar rituals. (There's three she gets the most involved in though, are: the galaxy Citadel standard, the one set by Earth's Gregorian calandar, and one following Rakhana's lunar cycle.)

39. Longest friendship? - Joker. In my canon, I like the idea that Shepard & Joker crossed paths a bunch growing up and were pretty good friends, keeping up online when they had to be apart. She tried to get assigned to ships he was piloting, and they were absolutely thrilled to show up to the Normandy and find each other.

40. What does Udina think of Shepard? - Hates her. Like, deep, visceral hatred for her. She could be the shining beacon of human interest and advancement, and instead, she's more interested in playing nice with the Council and has directly stated her refusal to put humanity first. So much potential, absolutey wasted.

41. If they were sent back to any moment in time, when would it be, and what would they change? - She's really not sure. Akuze is obviously the first thing that comes to mind, but... as much as she's ashamed of her actions, she can't deny that she vastly prefers living to dying, and she doubts she'd be able to get them to leave. Maybe Eden Prime - if there could be any way to warn Nihlus?

42. What song is their anthem? - The Fly

43. They come into an insane amount of money. How do they spend it? - Donate it/split it up amongst her friends. She doesn't feel she needs all that much, really.

44. What sort of relationship does Shepard have with the council? - Rough. She wants and tries to work with them as much as possible, but also oh my god will you get your heads out your collective ass/cloacas. (She also has very choice words for the idea of the council only being representative of three/four species of the like, dozen or so who agree to abide by Citadel law...)

45. Three things Shepard is bad at:

- Cooking anything more advanced than 'cold meat + cheese + berad'

-Saying 'no' when someone asks for help, even if they're clearly shady as fuck

-Driving.

46. Favorite candy? - Cotton candy. (Or anything that's vaguely fruity flavored sugar, really.)

47. Who is Shepard’s date to the Citadel party? - Sadly she never got that experience xD

48. What is Thane’s fate? - Died from injuries sustained defending the council- pretty true to canon tbh, but injuries that were severe enough he'd have died Kepral's or not. (Honestly as much as I love the final scene, I'm also a bastard who sometimes wants to say he was just DOA.)

49. What’s the perfect lazy-day shore leave? - Docked at one of the major ports, everyone gets an extra hour or so of time to sleep/fuck off as desired. Adrian herself usually tries to spend some time with a few people through the day (although Garrus and Tali are almost always a package deal lol), and if timing lines up well with Citadel stops she and Joker try to catch a meal with Anderson. SR1 era tended towards big group dinners out, SR2 era usually sees Shep & the crew picking up fresh supplies and heading back to the ship early to cook- usually it's Gardner, but some of the others pitch in here and there. And as things progress, of course, she and Thane do try to get some time out together.

50. What’s do they think of the leviathan? - Lack of DLC strikes again xD But I can give a thought there that to some level, she would find them amazing - she's always found deep ocean life fascinating and something that's still a source of mystery among most worlds. They're awesome in the classic sense of the word, almost sort of the realization of a dream.

+1. How long can Shepard hold their breath? - Her best time was nearly 7 minutes, averages around 5 & a half; N7 training and a love of swimming really helps. I imagine post cybernetics, it might be increased even further.

#mass effect #shep tag #mass effect hcs

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mourntheantagonist · 2 years

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The last ask was so cute!! Is it okay if I can ask 1 & 7 for the Classification!AU?

yes absolutely!!

1. what are things they both find funny?

oh they absolutely both find people falling down or just slightly and minorly injuring themselves doing stupid things to be absolutely hysterical. does this make them bad people. maybe. but they laugh at each other too sometimes. when steve slips on a puddle of spilled water he forgot to clean up and lands right on his ass, or when billy forgets he doesn’t have the same amount coordination when he’s little and trips over his own feet. they laugh at themselves and each other because they’re both just a couple of goofballs.

I know america’s funniest home videos didn’t start airing until ‘89, but they totally would watch it together every night and giggle the whole way through.

7. write a ~300 word love scene for them.

if I were to ever write a part two in this world, this would be something I would include! I kinda wanna say spoilers just cause this kinda gives away some of what will happen in the final installment of tbsl!

this is billy out of his headspace!

…

he had excused himself to the bathroom. he said he just wanted to change, but the real reason was evident by his inability to get his breathing in control.

It wasn’t right. he didn’t belong there. billy knew he had no right, not even a sliver of a right, to ask steve to do a single thing for him. he sealed his own fate that night in november when he made the conscious choice to prove his strength rather than let anyone know that he, billy hargrove, possessed even a shred of weakness.

he ran his hands under the cold water of the sink and splashed it on his face, hoping that it was just some kind of dream his weak mind had concocted to make another round of trying to survive on a dirty mattress in a cold garage somewhat bearable. for some reason he preferred that over the alternative—that it was all real, and that steve was right outside that bedroom door making a promise to billy that he couldn’t believe to be true.

because if he believed it, and it turned out not to be true…that might just break him completely.

billy walked out the bathroom door fully prepared to keep on walking, all the way out the front door, all the way back to a house he knew didn’t want him to come back, because at the end of the day it was the one place in all of hawkins that he was allowed to call his own.

steve wasn’t his. he wasn’t steve’s. that’s wasn’t what this was.

instead steve was standing out there, right outside the door, pulling billy right into a hug that was meant to both comfort and subdue him.

and billy wanted to fight back. he wanted to push away. but he couldn’t bring himself to do any of that. he just let him hold him.

“I know what you’re thinking.” steve said, brushing billy’s hair with his fingers. “I don’t want you to go.”

billy sighed into steve’s shoulder, feeling like his heart was ready to beat out of his chest.

“I can’t let you do this, steve.” billy tried, “this isn’t your responsibility.”

steve didn’t let up, he just pulled him in tighter. “I want to billy.”

billy heard it the first time, but it didn’t quite click until the second time. he wants to. no, that didn’t make sense, how could steve harrington possibly want—

“hey,” steve cupped billy’s face in his hands, making him look directly at him. “I want this. I want you.”

…

this was longer than 300 words but I am nothing if not long winded lol

#hope you liked it !#harringrove #billy hargrove #steve harrington #stranger things #mandi writes tresh #little!billy

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slimschance · 5 days

Text

Thursday - 20/05/24

7:11am

erm? so basically my whole day, today, has changed with no influence from me. mum knows i'm bad with change and my teacher told her a lack of control over my situation is one of my biggest stressors, so why would she do that??

i was meant to be visiting my nan in hospital today as she was in the ICU last night, but mums just changed it to me going to our local town with my other nan, my cousin and my aunt. i'm honestly trying my best to stay calm, i do think it's working, i don't feel any of the common effects i get when anxious but that's not the point. it's still on my mind. why would she do that? i spent all night thinking how the day would go, the car journey, the music, how the hospital looks (thankfully i know the ward as i visited my uncle there just days before; he should be leaving today!), what to say, how to act and preparing myself for anything she could say since shes on the steroids.

i just want to see that she's doing well

5:29pm

well that were a long day ermm 😅 my family were moody but we all got on well. we ate at cream, my first and what was meant to be my only meal of the day, i had avocado + poached egg on sourdough, i can't lie it were fucking lush and i think i needed it. we then went poundland, i got some supplements, a levi roots carribean crush drink, sauce dipping dishes for my veg, gum, stickers and fake nails, i bought a lot of them bc i'm gonna take them round my cousins, she's wanting to get some so i just bought an array for her, i'll keep the ones she doesn't like.

my other cousin we met in town, drove back to nans and we made a lego bonzai tree my uncle didn't want. she was meant to take it with her but forgot ahaha. oh well, it looked great!

nans safe after her operation but needs to be guarded at all times, she's trying to get up and leave and really hasn't a clue on what's going on. keeps chatting shit that means a whole lot of nothing, she's obviously impacted mentally by the surgery and steroids, speaking gobbledygook.

don't know if my uncles out hospital or no, worrying but i'll find out soon enough

i had a huge dinner... regretting it but again, tasted fucking amazing

i had fried egg, noodles and chicken gyozas. 5 to be exact, must write it so i can log in a sec.

at my nans house still and we just watching antiques roadshow, we were watching all the quiz shows before, standard stuff lol

9:18pm

just spent an hour peeling pomegranate then making a salad! it was actually fun peeling the pomegranate and i'll def do it again, i just hate preparing other fruit and veg, my fingers get weird and soggy and eughh. i'm lowk proud of myself for not rage quitting nor crying, i cannot cope with that shit. anyway, all that time on my feet must count for something. i made loads for me and mum tomorrow, am gonna try do omad tmrw, the salad i prepared with a small amount of baguette.

the salad had:

- pomegranate

- yellow pepper

- red grapes

- spinach

- co-op salad mix (lettuce, grated carrot, red cabbage)

- chickpeas

- feta cheese

- chia seeds

10:22pm

(the urge to put 22:22)

what da helllll ! !

safe to say i'm never living this down. worst bit is, i don't even feel that full, it's just as filling as my <650 days.

anyway, our cars buggered after like 8 years of being reliable. this year was meant to be the year we went on holiday after all the covid bullshit yk, but i think most money we may have will go for a car. i do genuinely think the car is a better use of the money but it's a shame... good job nothing was booked yet x

shame as well since we've sacrificed quite a few things to save for holiday and now it feels like for nothing. a notable thing being i'm still sleeping on a janky spring mattress despite it giving me major pain in my body.

still have no clue how we'll see nan with the car in a state as we're meant to be going hospital tomorrow but whatever... another unexpected day, yip fucken pee !

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leatherbookmark · 2 years

Text

oh hey, this sex scene has some things changed/added too

i’m not done with reading yet, so there might be more changes after that (although i don’t think so?) but between wwx asking “does it feel good inside me” and him going “lan zhan you’re dooone for what would your uncle say if he knew you’re fucking before marriage? ;p” there’s a whole scene that’s honestly... kinda cute lol?

basically, wwx asks “does it feel good inside me?” and lwj -- who was either “stupidly straightforward” (japanese meaning) or “dull” (chinese meaning of 愚直) in love, didn’t know how to get along with others and wasn’t particularly talkative, answers by biting wwx’s lips and thrusting harder.

then, wwx goes “lan zhan, lan zhan lan zhan lan zhan -- i really love you to death! i’m yours, i’m only yo-- wait, be more gentle!”. then he tears up again, “as if he was so happy that he went round to sadness”, and asks lwj again to please be gentle, this place is sensitive, don’t just go all out on me, if you do it too hard you’ll break me i’m just a little birthday boy etc etc, THEN (honestly one of my favourite moments, WHAT an absurd man)--

“lan zhan, you’re really the best, not only you’re such a beautiful little thing, you play the qin so well, your calligraphy skills are top notch, you’re a strong and skilled cultivator, you’re so good in bed, why are you so irresistible, how can i not love you--”

poor lwj says nothing, and the narration notes that wwx has been born shameless but also had the property of getting more excited the more shameless nonsense he spouted. lol

then he spreads his legs (meekly, submissively, etc etc) and goes on, basically telling lwj to fuck him more and deeper, come inside etc -- lwj does fuck him deeper indeed, to which wwx is back at his little birthday boy act, nonono, help, that’s not what i meant, this is too much. lwj’s like YOU REAP WHAT YOU SOW and wwx once again spreads his legs, once again in a meek/docile way, and eggs lwj on like “gege, lan-gege, i’m going to die, you’re KILLING ME, i’m sorry i’m sorry, this is my first time, please be gentler” to which lwj’s like well ARE you really asking for mercy or doing that on purpo-- STOP moving your hips

wwx goes “someone heeelp pleasee, hanguang-jun, i won’t do it agaaaain” etc etc, lwj kisses his tears and says with audible difficulty that he’s being serious, wwx should stop doing this because he won’t be able to control himsef, that it’s SCARY and he’s sorry. wwx, seeing this, softens in his heart and says “don’t apologize. and if you break me... i really want you to break me”

and then we’re back to the “omg lan zhan you’re done for!” thing, except instead of “…I have long since been like this.”, lwj says “we've already bowed three times” (とっくに三拝した).

i think the original chinese is 早完了 which, since my chinese skills are 50% gtrans and 50% wiktionary/baidu/pleco, doesn’t tell me much lmao. 完了 is “finished, concluded, done, over” and 早 is “early; fast” so the meaning is like “it’s too late/it’s done” but what? what’s already happened? who knows, it’s context city now!

i looked it up on tt, and japanese users are... having problem with it as well lol;;; apparently there was an interview where mxtx said they did bow three times, i think a screenshot is here and it seems she said it happened AFTER they fucked? (生命大和谐 aka “an undescribable scene” gfkjhgjfskg) but do we count the bathtub or the grass as their first time? i think she mentioned adding it in the edited version, but if she did, then i either didn’t notice it or forgot about it OTL;; also, at the end she said “everyone can imagine how it went on their own, it was probably wwx being wild” which. mxtx for god’s sake please. this japanese fan has a whole thread about this mystery, and mentions “we’ve already bowed three times”, “i’m already done for” and “we’re already done for”. hm.

EDIT: AH WAIT I KNOW.

wwxは一旦振り返ると、もう一度江枫眠夫婦の位牌に向かって真面目に数回地面に頭をつけて拝礼してから、lwjと一緒に立ち上がった。

Wei Wuxian turned around for a moment, once again bowed a couple times facing the Jiang Fengmian and his wife’s tablets, and left together with Lan Wangji.

this one? are we supposed to assume lwj bowed here as well... mxtx you are the master of leaving things unsaid in a frustrating way

#liveshrimping

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spruffle · 2 years

Text

SONIC P-06 PLAYTHROUGH UPDATE

shadow time! i've completed his first three levels (white acropolis, kingdom valley, crisis city) with a C-rank, a C-rank, and a B-rank respectively. here are my thoughts.

i've spent more time - not in terms of gameplay hours, but of sheer time passed since my first attempt - on shadow's white acropolis than on completing any other level, with the possible exception of sonic's wave ocean, which was the very first level. and it's pretty much entirely because of the vehicle section at the end, where you have to fire missiles at searchlights.

grrr.

it took me SO LONG !!! it took me an embarrassingly long time to figure out how to get the buggy to reverse - i was running into trees and having to restart the level LOL - but after that, i got it fairly soon after... but man is it a pain.

there's a bit during the first section, too, where you have to homing-attack onto some robots round a corner to land on a switch that's up on a high shelf. that switch unlocks a door. if you manage the homing attacks but don't land the switch - as i failed to do multiple times - i think you have NO WAY of progressing. damn. too OP chaosx, please nerf! ok i just, but... do they respawn? i honestly have no clue.

the room the door opens onto is so fun to rack up a big score on; then you have rouge's section (you can just fly over the whole thing, same with the hand glider segment of kingdom valley), and then you get in the buggy to shoot those searchlights.

i must confess, it is a little easier once you've already done these levels with sonic, as i have. they're familiar although shadow basically takes the opposite route through kingdom valley, if that makes sense. and those hit-the-green-orb bits continually made me fuck up (i couldn't help but hit it and then fall into the water). it takes mastery, and there's still bits of kingdom valley and crisis city that throw me. (thankfully, no snowball chase on white acropolis!)

crisis city was... interesting. with this and flame core (still working on flame core lol), it's hard for me to chain enemies together like you're meant to. i think i forgot the keybind for chaos boost? in any case, i haven't really 'got' shadow's combat yet. i really am just kinda playing him like sonic - is it just me, or does shadow sometimes have a ring dash, and sometimes not? seems weird - and homing-attacking everything. which... works, i guess!

shadow is SO heroic, so incredible, so sensationally voiced by jason griffiths (my favourite sonic AND shadow so far). "LET'S...GET...MOVING!" is, of course, brilliant. by contrast, send rouge spiralling into the water and you'll get the most sarcastic-sounding "aaaaah" you've ever heard in your life. i think the voice acting for sonic 06 is mixed, but griffith, pete capella, erica schroeder (a silvaze shipper! <333), dan green, and lisa ortiz all do a good job. rouge and omega are the only two where i really feel...ehh about it. some of rouge's conversational dialogue is good though, so whatever.

but yes, shadow. he is so thrilling here; so loaded with purpose, so grave and determined - he really feels like an action hero, in this game more than anywhere else. they really, really got him right.

anyway, flame core remains - i've made it as far as the pesky hit-the-pink-light-inside-the-volcano section. i suppose i should begin to look up omega in the manual...

#sth #sonic p 06 #sonic p06 #sonic p-06 #shadow the hedgehog

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ener-chi · 2 years

Note

For the reading!

Victoria H. Full dark eyebrows and a round nose. Plus a bit about me is that i hate the summer :')

(I forgot to say that I'd like a general reading please :) )

Hi Victoria!!

I also have... A hard time in the summer lol Fall and Winter are definitely my favorite seasons ((:

Hm... Let's see...

Okay... So the first thing that I see... Is... That you have a very fair complexion... Mm... Your energy is very soothing to me... Dark eyes... Hm... I see that you also like Fall and Winter... Your energy reminds me of it very much... Perhaps that is why it is so soothing...

It is like... A Fall day in... October?? Cold... A day where you must wear basically a winter jacket... Brisk... Walking along streets and paths... The trees have mostly lost their leaves... About two thirds... Brown... It gets dark early... After spending time among the trees... As it gets dark... You head inside... To the warmth and coziness of the inside... Soup... Never tasted so good...

Mm... This... Is what your energy feels like to me... My chest... There is a warmth... As I look at you... You have a silent, piercing gaze... A warm smile... Lmao now when I look at you all I feel is the Fall...

What else does the Universe want me to see about you...

Transition...

I see you... Sitting in like... A coffee shop or a plant shop of some kind?? With some kind of drink... You're looking pensive... You have something on your mind...

Hmm... I see change in your future... Maybe the next two years or so... Hmmrrgg... It's hard to really see much... Very very brief fragments... But I get the feeling that... It will kind of be like moving into a new chapter... A more comfortable one... The transition will not be terrible... I get a really good feeling... It feels... Comfortable... Really good... Resonates well with me...

What else... I see you like... Eyes closed... Praying?? Or connecting spiritually somehow?? I have such a hard time seeing things for her...

Energy moves from within and out of your aura... Out of your solar plexus... It's like... Brown maybe?? It looks like when Katara bends water from her pouch... Kind of like that shape and flow...

Hm... It doesn't feel bad or unhealthy...

The solar plexus is our center for ourselves... Our identity... Personhood... It feels like maybe you are moving and transmuting some deeper-rooted energies... Perhaps you are doing some trauma work... Or working through something... Or maybe even maturing... Moving out of something or some energy that once served you but no longer does...

Whatever it is... Let it go its' course... It is a good thing...

Anything else... A shake of the head...

Okay!! Hmm this was a bit of a disjointed reading; for some reason, I was having a bit of a hard time seeing things visually for you. Not a big deal! But things were just a bit more limited than normal. Also, I'm not really sure what the whole praying thing meant?? I just saw an image of it, and it was blurry already.

Thanks for the ask! I lovee your energy; makes me even more excited for Fall than I already am. I hope this resonates! Don't forget to leave feedback, and a tip if you feel so inclined and are able!

Blessings!

#mine #asks #readings #psychic readings

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jungkxook · 4 years

Text

—make it right. (m)

⟶ pairing: jungkook x reader

⟶ genre: punk!jungkook / band au / exes-to-lovers au / angst / smut

⟶ words: 11,528

⟶ rating: 18+

⟶ summary: you’re wholeheartedly, madly in love with jungkook and yet you shouldn’t be because it’s been almost a year since you broke up with him. worst part of it all is that you know he’s still in love with you too

⟶ warnings: jungkook has a tongue piercing, oral sex because of said tongue piercing (fem!recieving), more tattooed and long haired jungkook to feed my fantasies, angsty pining clingy sex, also just general soft sex, crying sex lol, riding, creampie, slight praise kink themes, unprotected sex

⟶ disclaimer: here’s my one year blog anniversary present inspired by the first ever fic i posted on here! yes this is technically a sequel to melomaniac but not really. sort of like an alternate universe to the alternate universe but you don’t really have to read one or the other to understand the other. so, i hope you enjoy!

⟶ this is part of the melodrama tour series!

You swear you’re over Jungkook.

In fact, you would even go so far as to say you hate him ━ but you know that’s not true. It’s just that it’s much easier to believe that if you tell yourself you hate him enough times, then maybe you’ll find a way to fix your broken heart, and the pain in his absence won’t hurt so bad.

As it turns out, it hardly works.

Seven months since he had left you to travel the world with his band, basking in promised eternal glory and fame and money, and yet even miles and oceans away from where you stand, he’s all you can think about. There’s a myriad of reasons as to why trying to forget him was an useless endeavour. The hardships of trying to forget a cherished life-long friendship you had grown accustomed to was one of them, and those lingering happy moments you had shared with him as lovers however fleeting they may be was another. But then there was the ever present fact that Jungkook and his band were so quick to rise to fame, their names far exceeding the seemingly cramped and small city you had both reigned from, and suddenly the boy you had known forever, and everything special that makes him, was now being shared to hundreds of millions of adoring fans.

You were certain it was all Jungkook ever wanted, the added attention and the pretty girls fawning over him, because he had always been a casanova in many ways despite always promising you that you were the only one for him even before you had started dating. You had told him it wouldn’t work ━ I trust you as my best friend, you had said in a moment of despair, grasping at straws. I don’t have to worry about you breaking my heart. But I don’t know if I can trust you as my boyfriend ━ far before he and his band had been signed to their record label and paraded around the world, when they were still practicing in rented storage units and friends’ garages and rundown local studios, playing gigs anywhere and everywhere from dingy bars to college campus parties, supporting him every step of the way if only because he was your best friend, and he had been so persistent that it would work, chasing after you even when you tried to push him away. I would treat you right, he had urged so ardently late one drunken night after stumbling back to his apartment. I already practically worship the ground you walk on.

And how could you ━ who had already been so madly in love with him but scared of him breaking your heart, scared of losing him, scared of this happening ━ ever resist him? He made love seem so easy, and maybe that’s because it was when you were with him. But now, he was no longer yours; now, he was the world’s, and you were nothing but a mere hazy fragmented memory in his mind, long forgotten, watching from the side of the stage much like you always had from the very start of it all.

“Hey, isn’t this that band?” Jihyo’s voice bursts through your wandering trail of thoughts.

It takes you a moment to recollect yourself, finding yourself not in the arms of an ex-lover or stuck in a bygone time of months past, but in the cosy and amiable café nearest your campus and frequented by a plethora of your fellow peers. You’re fortunate to find that your other group mates have also become sidetracked, trailing far from the assignment you were all supposed to be working on. Dahyun is perched beside you, chin nestled in the palm of her hand and elbow propped on the table as she scrolls aimlessly through her phone; Jihyo and Taeyong were sat across from you, gossiping fervently about some mutual friend of theirs. You hadn’t known the pair long enough to know much about them or the tragic affair of whoever Mina is for accepting her cheating boyfriend back for the second time, and, likewise, they seem oblivious to your own self-wallowing once you realize what’s caught Jihyo’s sudden attention.

You hear his voice first.

It’s easy to discern, even after all this time and even amongst the muffled chatter and clanking of porcelain and cutlery of those seated around you. The sweet, velvety lull of Jungkook singing throughout the café from the overhead speakers, pretty upbeat melodies and synths mixed with wistful words making up the song he had written for you before he left, before the fame and fans, as a way of telling you how he truly felt about you. It feels like a dream, and maybe that’s because it is, bringing you instantly to another time, and another world. You still remember him showing you the unfinished song for the very first time, curled up next to him in his living room, listening to him serenade you to sleep, humming in places where he hadn’t formed the words yet, strumming along with his acoustic. It was yours and his until he showed the world almost a year ago on their very first show at the Seoul Olympic Stadium in front of thousands of people, as a final desperate act of proclaiming his love for you after a disastrous attempt at a first date that he had begged from you. Just one, he pleaded. To prove it to you that I can be a good boyfriend. And if things don’t work out, we can pretend it never happened and just go back to being us. That’s a promise.

At the time, you had treasured the song. It was beautiful in every way, his love transcending his words and enveloping your heart in pure warmth.

Now, you hate it.

It’s the third time you’ve heard the song that day. Despite avoiding it as best as you could, it seems to find a way to make itself known in your daily life like the nagging nuisance it is. Because fate seemed to enjoy its sadistic behaviour of having the song be one of the main reasons Jungkook and his band had skyrocketed to fame in such a short span of time and, suddenly, Jungkook disappearing from your life meant little when his voice remained as a constant reminder of what could have been, what couldn’t have been, and what fell apart at the already fragile seams. And what was a proclamation of love to you turned into nothing but a fabled tale of lovers. You wonder if people who hear it ever think about where they’ve gone, or who they’ve turned into, or if their love was made to last. You wonder, above all else, if people ever think about it at all.

“Beyond the Scene, right?” Taeyong asks. He seems just as animated to be discussing the song as Jungkook’s voice fades into Jimin’s.

“God, I love this song. It’s so dreamy,” Jihyo lets out a longing sigh as she slumps against her seat. “Y’know, I’m seeing them this Friday. It’s their first time being back in, like, five months.”

“Dude, I’ve been trying to get tickets to see them for months now!” Taeyong gaps incredulously. “How’d you score them?”

“A friend of a friend knows the guy who plays keys,” Jihyo says. “The cute mysterious one.”

“Yoongi, right?”

“Yeah━”

As the pair dive into a passionate discussion about the boys and their first full-length album released under their recently-signed-to label from Columbia Records, you shift uncomfortably in your seat. Dahyun almost immediately straightens up, eyes flickering from the pair to you and back again. You’re both fortunate she’s there, having known your past with Jungkook, and despise it a little more, wondering what her pitying gaze must mean.

“Hey, Dahyun. Y/N.” Taeyong’s voice grabs your attention now. “What do you think of these guys? Didn’t some of them used to go to this school?”

“Yeah, I had a few classes with their drummer.” Dahyun waves her hand airly, swiftly brushing over the fact that she did far more than have a “few classes” with any of the boys but was also one of their closest friends. “I think they’re great━” She glances sideways at you one more time. “Hey, maybe we should get back to the assignment now━”

“I had a class with their lead guitarist, Jungkook, last year,” Jihyo continues, her excitement getting the best of her as Dahyun’s voice drowns out in the foreground.

“No way!” This dubious exclamation comes from Taeyong.

“I tried talking to him once but he totally blew me off,” Jihyo says. “Which is fine, because he’s still hot. If I had known he was gonna be a famous rockstar, I’d have tried asking him out a second time━”

Suddenly, you feel sick.

It’s odd to hear two strangers discuss Jungkook’s life while you’re seated across from them, as if you’re nothing more than an outsider to whoever Jungkook has become now. But you can’t stand it anymore. You’re certain you look insane to them when you push your seat back abruptly, the metal legs screeching against the floor as you stand.

“Whoa, what’s wrong━?” Taeyong starts to ask but you’re gone before he can finish the question, murmuring a half-hearted excuse about how you forgot you needed to be somewhere.

You’ve rounded on your heel and have fled from the café before anyone can try to stop you, with nothing but Jungkook’s mellifluous voice fading in the distance as he croons aloud for you in a time long since passed.

You don’t care. Besides, you’re sure Dahyun will cover for you.

The worst part of it all? The dreadful realization that sinks into your mind, and into your heart, beckons the question: who’s to say you aren’t a stranger now to Jungkook’s life altogether?

“So, what are you trying to say?”

You remember the moment so clearly despite wanting nothing more than to forget it all, and the pain associated with it. Because even from then you knew you would always be in love with Jungkook, but you couldn’t have him. It’s hard to remember whose fault it is this time that caused the sudden fight, though random little arguments had been a frequent occurrence nearing the end of your one year relationship more often than not. You hate blaming it all on him, because you were certain you were at fault too. Maybe a little bit wary at times, a little selfish, wanting him all to yourself. Even though you knew he has an obligation to the world, it still hurt when he started making promises he couldn’t keep, blowing you off for soundchecks, or spontaneous interviews, or record label meetings. More and more you could feel the both of you drifting apart, maybe without even meaning for it to happen.

It was just that Jungkook was destined for a lifetime of greatness, and you were starting to think that meant without you.

You had stopped him late one night after he had stumbled home from his and the band’s nightly studio sessions as they worked through recording their debut album as a signed band. Lately, it seemed as if that was all that Jungkook cared about, and while you knew the band meant the world to him and you would always support him in his endeavour, you couldn’t help but feel lesser in comparison. That, and you hated seeing the boy overwork himself to the point of near exhaustion every night if only because their label was so adamant about having the album finished before the month ended.

“You want to, what? Break up?” Jungkook asked, this time more incredulously and less dumbfounded as he had initially been. He didn’t believe you just yet, but you couldn’t exactly tell what he was thinking anymore at that point.

“I just figured we could use some time apart,” You had suggested awkwardly. “Just a break.”

He had let out a breathless, disbelieving laugh. “Y/N, this is insane.”

You flinched. You remember having to look away, refusing to meet his suddenly sorrowful look. “Is it, Jungkook? I mean… Look at us. We’re falling apart. It was bound to happen eventually. We tried to make it work but maybe we’re on different paths now.”

“But I love you,” Jungkook gasped, exasperated. “Where is this coming from?”

“And I don’t want to have to tie you down for the rest of your life,” You continued on stubbornly, “or make you think you owe me your whole life just because you said you fell in love with me when you were thirteen━”

This seemed to catch Jungkook’s attention. He grew rigid in front of you, a look of wary agony contorting his face. “Is that what this is then? You don’t love me anymore?”

You didn’t respond immediately, instead the dread of the night seemed to finally catch up with you and you had grimaced. You had loved him even then, but the thought of voicing it aloud when you were supposed to be breaking up with him didn’t feel right. The tears began to swell in your throat and blur your vision. Jungkook must have noticed, because he always seems to spot the small things about you that even you miss. Almost instantly, the sour look on his face softened and his gaze turned helpless, with those big puppy-dog eyes that you’ve always been too fond of. He closed the distance between you at once, warm hands grabbing at your own.

“You do.” It wasn’t a question, but a statement. He knew you were still in love with him ━ or maybe he’d just been hopeful. “I know you do. So then why are you breaking up with me?”

He let go of one of your hands to reach up to your face, calloused fingers gentle and soft against your cheek as they brushed away a rogue tear you hadn’t realized had fallen from your lashes. For a moment, you had let yourself get carried away. You leaned into the comforting heat and touch of his palm as he cradled your face.

“Don’t━” You choked out after a moment of silence, hating when your voice splintered into a sob. “Don’t touch me. Please, Jungkook. You’re only going to make this harder.”

His hands sprang away from your face almost at once, as if he had just been burnt by scalding fire. He wanted nothing more than to reach out and pull you into his arms but he had refrained the urge somehow, miraculously. So, instead, he grit his teeth and clenched his hands into fists as his arms fell limp at his sides.

“Then don’t do this. Don’t walk away,” Jungkook pleaded desperately. “I don’t understand. If you love me still, why are you making this harder for yourself?”

“Because what if that’s all we have in common anymore?” You asked wretchedly. “We care about each other. We always will. But you’re focused on the band, and this is my last year of school. Maybe we just need time to focus on ourselves.”

Jungkook blinked once. Twice. His stare was suddenly devoid of any emotion as he gawked at you, but you could tell that he was hurting. It was there in the fluttering of nerves in his jaw; there, in the way his lips pulled taut into a thin line; there, in the way even you could see his eyes begin to shimmer with wet tears that he unabashedly displays without trying to wipe away.

“So that’s it?” he asked. “After everything we’ve been through. You’re just gonna end it, like that? Y/N, come on━”

His hands had found purchase on your waist, and you had lingered for a moment too long; then, fumbling, he tried to grab delicately at your face, probing you to look at him. But you couldn’t. The moment you met his wounded gaze, you shook your head furiously. You had slithered out of his grasp, slipping through the seams of his fingers just like that.

“I━” You paused. “This isn’t some spur of the moment decision, Jungkook. How can you not see it? I’ve felt so alone these past few months. It’s like you’re here but not entirely. Your mind is always somewhere else, always thinking about the band and never about us.”

“What am I supposed to do?” he had asked hotly. “The band is my everything.”

“And what am I?” You asked. The question only mildly offended you, a shot right to your heart. Because if the band was his everything, what were you in comparison? “A distraction until you get everything you want? I can’t keep being that.”

“No!” he protested. “You’re not a distraction. You’re━” He stopped himself short, brows furrowing. “You can’t keep pinning this all on me. You just don’t trust me, do you? You never did. Always thinking I’m with some other girl when I’m not with you━”

“That’s not true,” You admonished.

“Isn’t it?” Jungkook retaliated.

“I don’t want to hear it,” You had said at once. Your tone was final, a decisive ending to your argument with him. “My mind’s already been made up, Jungkook. I don’t think we should see each other again until we sort all this out ━ or, until you sort out whatever your priorities are.”

Jungkook’s stare had hardened, a frown deeply etching into his face. He had straightened up then, perplexed and upset with your standoffish demeanour, as if thinking this surely meant nothing to you. But little did he know this would become one of the hardest decisions you would have to make.

“Fine,” he said rigidly. “If that’s how it is, then I’m gone. You’ll never have to see me again.”

You hadn’t known at the time just how terribly you had messed up ━ neither had Jungkook. He had left before you could stop him, or before either of you could change your minds. Because nothing’s worse than a broken heart, blinded by stubborn and defensive rage. Accusatory fingers and blaming him or you wouldn’t heal the wounds that had already formed, and ending things seemed to only make it worse, months of lonely heartache without Jungkook to further prove just that…

The last time you spoke to Jungkook, you told him you never wanted to see him again ━ or, at least, that seems to be how he interpreted it.

Now, you were standing in the midst of his domain, surrounded by everyone in his public sphere of friends and colleagues and acquaintances, and there was certainly no way of escaping him.

You were starting to think you’re losing mind, because you’d truly have to be insane to have worked up the nerve to agree to go with Dahyun to a party being held celebrating the band’s recent tremendous success and headlining their first world tour. Their manager, Jin, had personally reached out to you and Dahyun, calling you as a means of asking you to attend, though you had given him a timid and dismissive response at first. If it hadn’t been for Dahyun purposely and almost quite literally dragging you out under the premise that “even if you don’t want to see Jungkook, you at least owe it to the boys to go,” you don’t think you’d even be here. But while you didn’t know where you stood with Jungkook anymore, that didn’t mean you weren’t still proud of him or the rest of the boys. It just became harder to bask in their success with them when you had gone from knowing every detail of their lives, of Jungkook’s life, to knowing only what you could hear from gossiping fans around you, or plastered in tabloids, or all over any form of social media.

The party is held at some sort of fancy lavish restaurant, the entire back room rented out by the band’s record label and management, and is filled with dozens of people you don’t know. Fortunately, you and Dahyun aren’t left alone for very long, as an elated Jin and Jimin, the appointed lead singer, bustle their way through the crowd to you almost as soon as you arrive, leaving very little time for you to feel so awkward that you consider running away again. Jimin, in all his spritely and extravagant blue haired disposition, wastes no time in engulfing you both in a comforting hug as if months hadn’t passed since you’ve last seen them.

“Glad you guys could make it!” Jin smiles from over Jimin’s shoulder.

“It’s been forever,” Jimin affirms.

“Wouldn’t miss it for the world,” Dahyun says. “I’m surprised you guys didn’t forget about us, considering you’re big rockstars now.”

“Rockstar is a bit of an overstatement.” An effortlessly charming smirk unfurls on Jimin’s face, which seems to immediately dazzle Dahyun. “Besides, we could never forget you. Hey, come with me to find the guys. I think we could all use some time to catch up━”

He places his hand on the small of Dahyun’s back as he guides her away, leaving you with Jin. A moment of silence passes, in which time you can feel the boy’s eyes lingering on you.

“He knows you’re coming tonight, if that’s what you’re worried about,” Jin says carefully, treading over his words lightly. It’s too painfully obvious who he’s talking about, though you’re fortunate he doesn’t bother mentioning Jungkook’s name anyway. “There’s no point in hiding. I think you should talk to him.”

“I━” You trail off uselessly, your voice croaking. Fearing an imminent breakdown, you shake your head. Then, holding your chin a little higher, Jin’s startled to hear you pretend as if he hadn’t said anything. “It really is good to see you guys again. If you’ll excuse me, I think I need a drink.”

And you’re gone once more before he can say anything else. On your lonesome, you find refuge at the bar, though you only order water because you’re certain you won’t be able to stomach anything stronger. You don’t know how long you spend there, blankly staring at a spot on the wall as your mind wanders everywhere and yet nowhere at all until━

“Y/N?”

There it is again. The familiar sound of his voice, only this time it’s much more attainable, closer to your world and not elsewhere so high in the clouds like a hopeful dream. You brace yourself before turning to face him.

This close, Jungkook looks breathtakingly and painfully beautiful.

As always, he’s adorned in all black, the first few buttons of the silky blouse he’s wearing left undone so that it teases the exposed flesh of his collarbones and the rose tattoo that inks his chest, the thorny stems crawling up the side of his neck just below his ear, accompanied by a pair of leather pants. He’s the same as ever. The same imperfect tattoos that decorate his fingers and arms that you’ve always loved, the same ring-clad fingers painted a chipped black, the same hoop accentuating his button nose. His hair is still his natural dark ebony color (something he’s seemed to stick with much more as of late despite dyeing it wild colours throughout his past), only it’s a little longer than you last remembered, and the sides of his head are shaved in the form of an undercut. You’re foolishly surprised to find he still looks the same, but almost a year away from someone can both change nothing and yet everything all at once.

“Jungkook…” You want to say something more, but your words fall short.

It’s hard to tell if he’s angry or upset at seeing you there, but you don’t think he’s either, and you have an inkling of a thought that he purposely sought you out amongst the many faces. Instead, he looks hesitant, apprehensive, as if dreading how you’ll respond to see him. As if you’ll yell at him, push him away. You do neither, fortunately.

Just when the dense silence starts to become almost unbearable, Jungkook clears his throat. “I━ Wow… You look great.”

You blink once, a flustered blush warming your face that you hope he doesn’t notice. “Oh. Thank you. You do, too.”

His eyes flicker over your presence as he nods absentmindedly. Then, he’s offering you a pretty smile, soft and sweet in nature. No malice, or ill-intent. “Um━ How have you been?”

You hate this. You hate the awkward pauses, the prolonged periods of silence. A year ago, even despite knowingly pining for one another, your moments alone with Jungkook were never so terrible. He always found a way to say something cheekily flirtatious even when you were just friends, if only because he knew it would make you blush and giggle because, no matter how many times you would roll your eyes or nudge his sides, he also knew you secretly loved it. All the inside jokes, the milestones shared together, the ardent fleeting touches ━ where did it all go? And while you were both noticeably trying to maintain the peace and pleasantry between one another, it didn’t feel the same. It felt forced, fake. Distracted.

“I’ve been good,” You lie. “How about you? Actually, don’t answer that━” You let out a breathless chuckle. “You’ve clearly been doing amazing. I mean, your album, and your world tour. And tomorrow you’ve got a big day with the hometown show. I heard it sold out in the first ten minutes.”

“Something like that,” Jungkook says modestly. “It’s been kind of crazy. Namjoon says it’s good, but I miss━ I just miss a lot of how it used to be. The slow pace. I dunno. The quick burn up is quick to burn out, right?”

“Maybe,” You admit. “But I think you’ve all got it in you. You’ve worked so hard for this moment. Enjoy it while you’re in it. You deserve it, Jungkook.”

His stare softens as it meets yours. “Thanks.”

Another beat of silence passes. He looks as if he’s warring with himself, as if he’s fighting the urge to say something more, gnawing at his lower lip, brows knitting together.

“Yo, Jeon!” A foreign voice from amongst the crowd beckons aloud abruptly for the boy.

Jungkook glances over his shoulder swiftly in search of the source, then waves his hand as if to motion he’ll be there later. Then, he turns back to you. “Sorry about that.”

“It’s okay. I won’t keep you,” You say. “I know you’re busy.”

“But━” He stops himself, his jaw clamping shut. Changing his mind, he decides to ask hopefully, “Will you be at the show tomorrow?”

“Of course.” The affirmation seems to relieve him, even though it’s a spontaneous decision made by you on the spot. Before this moment, you hadn’t been so sure you could go.

“Promise?”

You can’t help but shake your head, a chuckle slipping past your lips at the innocent boyish question he asks. “Yes, Jungkook.”

His smile widens a little more, however sheepish it may be. “Then can you promise me one more thing?”

“What?” You quirk a brow, intrigued to say the least.

“Will you drop by the hotel we’re staying at tomorrow morning, so I can take you out for a coffee? Just to catch up. It’s been a while,” he says timidly. Then, feeling a little stupid for being so bold, scrambles to explain himself. “And no pressure if you don’t want to. I just thought━”

You can’t possibly say no. Not when it comes to Jungkook, all your past struggles seemingly vanishing without a trace. “I’d like that a lot, Jungkook.”

“Really?”

“Yeah.”

Then he’s positively beaming, his self-indulgent grin making your own heart flutter in your chest. When he leaves your side that night, you find yourself looking forward to the future perhaps a little too optimistically. But how terrible could grabbing coffee with your ex be, if you had survived the first wretched encounter?

So, in the morning when you wake, there’s not a stutter in your step or a wavering flicker of your confidence as you make your way to the Four Seasons hotel Jungkook had told you to from the night before. In fact, a selfish part of you almost thinks that maybe things will start to look up. That maybe you and Jungkook can finally make amends. That maybe you never had a reason to fear Jungkook breaking your heart if he made such an effort to heal it.

The hotel itself is one of the most luxurious ones in Seoul, a considerable contrast from when the boys were slumming it on friends’ couches and in their run-down van touring the country. The room Jungkook tells you to meet him at is one of the hotel’s grand suites, located on the higher levels of the building. But as soon as you reach the landing and have begun making your way towards the designated door, it flings open and a pretty girl comes stumbling out. She’s giggling at something that has just happened inside, her hair a dishevelled mess which she ruffles up in an attempt to fix it. She’s adorned in a pretty little dress, the skirt of which is hiked a little higher up and one strap falling down her shoulder, as she clings her shoes and bag to her chest. She smiles at you on the way past, though she’s too far gone in her own little daze that you wonder if she even notices you at all.

But you certainly notice her, and, all at once, your reverie of him and what could be comes crashing to the ground once more.

Maybe you should have stayed, should have waited for Jungkook to let him explain, but you were too afraid to hear an answer you weren’t looking for. You try desperately not to imagine Jungkook loving someone else. You try not to think about him holding her the same way he held you, his lips finding purchase on some other girl. But by trying to avoid the thought, it beckons the unwarranted memories of how it felt to be loved all over by him once upon a time. You wonder how many girls he’s hooked up with in your time apart, and the overwhelming sense of regret washes over you.

You don’t bother to wait. You know fleeing is the easiest option rather than facing your fear, but you’re far too timid of rejection again. Instead, even before you can approach Jungkook’s hotel room and knock on the door, you turn on your heels and run.

You’re long gone by the time Jungkook comes to the door, prying it open in search of you on a whim. When he doesn’t see you, he glances up and down the hallway but to no avail. Namjoon comes slinking past inside then in his own disoriented haze, having just woken up from moments ago when the girl he had taken back to their room the night before left. Even then, Jungkook had warned the rhythm guitarist against bringing the girl back, pointing out the fact that they had much to do today ahead of their concert. Namjoon had promised it wouldn’t be long, that she would be gone in the morning, and Jungkook was fortunate enough that the suite had two separate bedrooms on the opposite ends of one another so that Jungkook didn’t have to hear whatever it was the pair were doing in the other.

“Did Mina leave?” Namjoon asks through a yawn, digging the heels of his palms into his tired eyes. When Jungkook nods, a sliver of a reminiscent smug grin tugs at Namjoon’s lips. “You missed out, Jungkook.”

The cheeky quip is met with a roll of Jungkook’s eyes. “I’m sure I’ll survive. You know I’m not like that.”

Like that━ As in midnight hook-ups and cheap thrills alike. He tried it once, far ago when you had first broken up with him, on a drunken spur of a moment as a way of healing the anguish in his heart. It hadn’t worked then; he assumed it would never work.

Namjoon seems to understand this immediately. He gives Jungkook a look that the boy doesn’t notice. “Well… is Y/N here yet?”

“No. But I’m sure she’ll be here,” Jungkook grimaces. He hopes. “Something probably came up.”

Namjoon clasps a reassuring hand on Jungkook’s shoulder, humming aloud, “Good luck, dude.”

But you never arrive, even though Jungkook waits for most of the morning, nervous eyes flickering to the door at every commotion outside, running to check only to see room service delivering breakfast or concierge showing guests to their rooms. He has no choice but to give up on the thought of you coming when Jin knocks on their door, prompting the boys to get a start on their day. Interviews and soundcheck await, but how could he possibly go on with his life without knowing what happened to you?

Which is why you stay on his mind for the rest of the day, distracting him in every aspect, mixing up his words when he’s in the midst of his interview, tripping up on stage as the boys set up and begin to rehearse. As the hours wane down to just an hour before the show, the thought of performing in front of thousands of fans starts to make him nervous and he doesn’t know why. He’s done this countless times before, almost nightly during the tour, so what stops him now? Of course he knows the answer, had grown all too accustomed to the feeling the first few months in which the break up had been so recent. It would always be about you.

But just before the show starts, Jungkook is making his way backstage from the greenroom, where the band had been waiting, to the stage. Fiddling with his in-ear piece, he almost doesn’t notice you and Dahyun weaving your way through the roadies and sound tech, being guided by Jin to the pit on the side of the stage where only family and friends are allowed. You don’t see him, and there’s a split moment where he thinks he should just let you go, until he doesn’t.

As he makes his way to you, the tour manager for the band intervenes part way, shouting out to the boy. “Where are you going? We’re on in five, Jungkook!”

“Yeah, I’ll be right back━” He waves the manager off as politely as he can, wasting no time to chase after you. He calls out your name, though it drowns out in the sound of the music being blasted through the speakers of the arena and the screaming fans. “Y/N, wait up!”

He’s relieved when he sees you stop in your tracks, turning to face him as Dahyun and Jin become lost in the chaos of the backstage. He comes to stand just before you, smiling breathlessly at you, unaware of the way your shoulders tense at the sight of him.

“You didn’t show up this morning,” he says as a way of greeting, his voice a curious prob. “What happened?”

You try desperately not to get lost in his big beautiful eyes, laced with such hope. Instead, you fold your arms over your chest, looking away. “Something came up.”

It’s then that Jungkook senses something is wrong. You’re upset with him, though he can’t tell why. Aside from the obvious rift in your relationship that had initially split you two up, you had been so pleasant to see him the night before. But he doesn’t give up just yet. “Well… you’re here now.”

You meet his gaze with your own hardened one. “For the boys.”

A shot right to his heart almost makes Jungkook gasp for air. He flinches, and then his stare softens, and you wish he wouldn’t look at you like that, out of fear that you might just relapse into his arms.

“What’s wrong?” He closes the distance between the two of you. He wants nothing more than to reach out and touch you, but refrains with much difficulty. There’s dozens of things that could be wrong, and he braces himself for your retaliation. “You didn’t want to come, did you?”

When you don’t respond, but also don’t stray from his side, Jungkook hurries to speak again if only to fill the tense silence.

“Look, last night… Maybe it was just me, but last night seemed like things were okay,” he says. “Was I wrong to feel that way?”

“Jungkook…”

“Please, just let me know,” he begs. “Because you’re all I can think about these days, it’s driving me crazy. And I don’t know what’s going on, but the reason I wanted to see you this morning was because I hate how things ended between us, and I wanted to tell you…” He swallows nervously as he trails off uncertainly. “I wanted to tell you that I’m still in love with you. And I can’t get you out of my head. These months away from you made me realize that I━”

Suddenly, you’re shaking your head and he knows you don’t believe him. As soon as the words leave his mouth, he regrets saying it, if only because they seem to enliven you. Now, you push yourself away from the boy. “I’m not doing this right now. You’re not doing this right now.”

As if to further your point, the band’s tour manager can be heard calling out frantically for the boy. “Two minutes, Jungkook!”

But Jungkook is hardly paying attention now, instead solely focused on you. “Please, Y/N━”

“No, you don’t get to say that to me,” You admonish hotly. You can’t bite the words back, no matter how hard you try. “You don’t love me. You think you love me, but you don’t.”

His jaw clenches, and his brows furrow into a frustrated stare. “I do.”

“You don’t.”

“Yes, I do.”

“Stop.” The harsh word makes Jungkook clamp his mouth shut. You shake your head furiously, but you know it’s only to distract yourself so that you don’t let the tears fall. “You’re being selfish, Jungkook. You don’t get to take all of me, love all of me, and leave, only to come back months later and pretend you’re still in love with me. And whatever this━” You gesture vaguely between the two of you, “is, or was, doesn’t exist anymore. We both need to stop pretending otherwise.”

Jungkook winces, eyes tinged with pain. “You don’t mean that.”

You don’t respond. Elsewhere, his tour manager starts to grow impatient, scolding the boy aloud, “Jungkook, we’re gonna be late. Hurry up!”

“Yeah, I’ll be there!” Jungkook calls back, irritated. Maybe he is being selfish. He’s wasting precious time by not leaving, all the hard work that the crew put into tonight’s show, and the fans awaiting his and the band’s arrival. He can still hear the crowd, this time their buzzing voices amalgamating into unanimous chanting muffled by the walls that sounds akin to the band’s name.

“You should go,” You say now. “Don’t wanna disappoint them.”

But he’d throw it all away for you if you told him to. He promised you that even before he had left for tour, before the band had been signed. Had you forgotten? Because he surely hadn’t.

“Y/N…”

“Good luck out there.”

Then, you’re gone before Jungkook can even make a move to stop you ━ but even if he did, what could he do to make you stay? The feat seemed impossible, and you always seem to find a way to slip from his grasp no matter what he does. Only this time he has no choice but to let you go, out of fear of being berated further by his tour manager or angering the boys so much to the point where he gets kicked out of the band.

He makes it on stage in time, the band filing out to take their places one at a time, deafening screams blowing out their in-ear pieces that stand no chance as each member joins the stage. The lights fizzle out until complete darkness cloaks the venue, but Jungkook still looks for you. He finds you in the pit on the side of the stage, Jin and Dahyun standing beside you, and finds it hard to keep his eyes off of you even though you attempt to pretend as if he’s not even there.

After their first adrenaline-filled opening song of the night, Jimin takes to the microphone to greet the crowd who scream back an indiscernible shout as, elsewhere, you notice Jungkook pry himself away from the microphone stand on his side of the stage to wave the rest of the boys over to Hoseok’s drum kit. They murmur amongst themselves briefly, though they go unnoticed by Jimin or the crowd as the lead singer entertains them.

“Seoul! It’s good to be back. We’ve missed you all so much━”

Jimin’s words get cut short when Jungkook, having just parted ways with the rest of his members for their impromptu meeting, beckons the lead singer over, out of range of the microphone. They seem to discuss something just as shortly as Jungkook had talked with the rest of the boys, in which time Jimin nods understandingly, then steps away from the microphone. Then, Jungkook takes to the microphone, the rings on his fingers glistening under the spotlight as he grips the stand.

“I know the night’s only getting started,” Jungkook’s voice wavers as he speaks, “but we’re gonna slow things down for a moment. We hope you don’t mind.”

Intrigued murmurs echo around the crowd, suddenly buzzing with excitement as they watch Jungkook with eager eyes. A few encouraging bellows has Jungkook smiling smally. Jin, on the other hand, looks perplexed.

“What is he doing?” Jin asks no one in particular, a quizzical look on his face. “This isn’t part of their set.”

“I think a lot of you might know this next song,” Jungkook continues, “but I don’t think I’ve ever expressed how much it means to me. This next one, I wrote for a special someone, and it sort of helped us achieve all of this. So, I think it’s time that person knows how much they mean to me.”

Jungkook glances nervously over at the boys standing behind him, each in their own respective spots. Then, sweeping his gaze across the crowd, he finally finds you already staring up at him. His own eyes soften into a look of longing, however hardened by past tribulations and sorrow it may be. As if he’s determined not to lose you again; determined to make it up to you.

“This next one is for Y/N,” he says timidly. He has to turn away from you in the next second, afraid he might just break down before the fans and the boys and you. “I’m sorry I messed up.”

As the boys take their place, with Jimin taking an acoustic and fading back from the limelight, you wonder why. But then you hear it, the familiar beginning chords making up the song you had so wholeheartedly claimed you hated. Only this time they’re gentler, made up of acoustic strums of a guitar, Hoseok’s drums, and Yoongi’s keys, all amalgamating into a pretty song almost unrecognizable.

Then, Jungkook starts singing, and what was once a wistful dreamy song of prospective lovers suddenly turns into a melancholic requiem for you. Some lyrics are changed, present tense turning to the past, and Jungkook sings his way throughout the entirety of the song in contrast to the one that plays all over the radio featuring the other member’s voices. The fans sing along, their voices melding with Jungkook’s into some sort of celestial mellifluous choir, and you’re left no longer wondering if the fans would ever know the meaning behind the song that Jungkook had brought to life. Because now, it wasn’t just Jungkook singing to you; it was the whole world. And yet, paradoxically at the same time, it felt all that much more intimate. As if it were just you and him once again, seated on the couch in his small apartment, listening to the beginnings of what would be their number one selling song.

Above all else, you realize that you don’t seem to hate the song as much you claimed to.

That night, you can’t sleep.

You find yourself leaving the venue earlier than everyone else, even when the boys invite you and Dahyun to join them for celebratory drinks, returning to your home in the hopes of forgetting the night altogether. Instead, you stay up tossing and turning, your mind filled with memories consisting of only Jungkook and his haunting voice singing to you, and for you. But at some point during the night nearing one or two in the morning, just when you give up on the idea of sleep, the sound of incessant knocking at your front door rouses you from your trance.

When you finally answer the door, you’re more than surprised to see that Jungkook stands on the other side of the threshold as if coming to you from a dream. But then you register the fact that he’s a complete mess. Dark circles line his weary eyes, now smudged with that faint hint of charcoal liner he had worn for the concert, hair so messily mused beyond repair, and you notice quickly that he’s crying, fresh tears glazing over his pupils and streaking down his face. It’s startling to see him in such shambles, a complete contrast to how effortlessly charming and confident he usually portrays himself. But though you’ve seen him cry before on various occasions, now is all the more unsettling.

“I━I’m sorry.” It’s the first thing he says, screwing his eyes shut tightly as he shakes his head. He fumbles over his words, slurring them together in his rush to get them out. “I know I’m probably the last person you want to see right now, but I needed to see you.”

“Are you drunk?”

“No, no, I swear━” He pries his eyes open to meet your desolate stare, tears unabashedly falling from his lashes. His voice thins with desperation. “You said we need to stop pretending, but I’m not pretending. I never have been. And if you think ━ if you truly believe ━ that there’s nothing here between us anymore… Tell me. Right here, right now. And I’ll leave you alone forever, you’ll never have to see me again. I just━ I’ve missed you every moment and it kills me.”

You’re silent for a long period, pitying gaze sweeping over him, but he doesn’t care if he looks insane. He just needs you to know how he feels.

“Well, how do you think I felt?” You ask the question carefully, but then the memories come flooding back and the semblance of a scowl forms on your face. “You leave and suddenly everywhere I look I see you. Your song is playing everywhere, you and the guys are everywhere, and I’m reminded every day about how we ended. About how you left me.”

Jungkook blinks. He shakes his head stubbornly, the nerves in the corner of his jaw fluttering as he grits his teeth. “You were the one who said we should take a break.”

“A break!” You snap sternly. “Fuck, Jungkook. I didn’t want you out of my life forever. I wanted you to fight for me.”

“No, don’t put this all on me,” Jungkook pleads helplessly. “I have always fought for you. But the minute things got rough, you bailed. You told me you never wanted to see me again. What the hell was I supposed to do?”

“I was scared!” You try to swallow the tears away that start to form as a lump in your throat but to no avail. “I was, and I still am, so fucking scared of losing you. And you━ It felt like you gave me no choice. Like you were over it. I would have wanted to make things work but you left. You just… You left, and suddenly it was like you were never in my life at all. Seven months, and I get no word from you.”

“I fucked up, okay!” He cries out so suddenly, it silences you at once. He bites at his lip, and straightens up half-heartedly, running a hand through his hair. When he meets your stare this time, he’s zealous yet sincere. “I know that I messed up. I know. And it fucking kills me every single day. I don’t know where it went wrong, but it did, and I know it’s all my fault. When you said we should take a break and I agreed, I was only thinking about you. Because I knew I was disappointing you every day, and I was afraid that was all I would ever do, and you don’t deserve that. I thought it would be better this way, if I was just gone from your life for good. But I can’t forget you.”

“How can I trust you?” You ask. When his pained stare gawks at you, you tilt your chin a little higher. “I came by your hotel room yesterday morning, just like you asked, only to see that girl leaving.”

Jungkook’s gawk turns into a dumbfounded expression. He looks weary as he shakes his head, as if struggling to keep up with the way you accuse him now. He tries not to focus on the fact that you actually came to the hotel, then feels inconsolably terrible when he realizes why he never got to see you. “That girl was Namjoon’s fling. We were sharing the suite, and they were in a whole other room. I didn’t even think about her━”

Your stare droops from him, and he knows he’s struggling to keep you on his side.

“Okay, fine. You want trust? I’ll give it to you,” he says. A newfound sense of confidence seems to possess him, though he approaches the topic with extra caution anyway. “After we broke up, I was crushed. I couldn’t move on from you, and the guys thought I should get drunk, find a random girl to bring back to our hotel one night on tour. And I listened, because I wanted to forget you, but it didn’t work. All I could think about was you. Every time she touched me, every time she kissed me, I could only imagine it was you. And when she left that night, I broke down because I felt like such a fucking idiot. I instantly regretted it. Like, even though you and I weren’t together, I still did something to hurt you by sleeping with that girl. And all it did was hurt me too in the process.”

He pushes himself forward, taking a step over the threshold. Even despite him admitting his wrongs to you, you can’t find it in yourself to hate him. Because, at the end of it all, he’s here at your doorstep, pleading for you to forgive him, but he had already won the moment your eyes had landed on him.

“You’re the reason I am who I am today.” His voice is hoarse when he speaks, almost in a whisper. “That I get to do what I love for a living. But all of it means nothing without you. You saw me at my worst, and my best. And you were the best I ever had, and I ruined it, and the worst part of it all is that there’s nothing I can do to make up for it. But I promise I can make it better ━ I can make it right again ━ if you just give me a chance.”

There’s a short pause filled with poignant silence in which Jungkook thinks you’ll push him away or scream at him. He’s fortunate when you do neither; instead, he hears you whisper faintly.

“Kiss me, Jungkook.”

And it’s more than enough for him. His heart thrums in delight as he wastes no time in reaching out for you. His hands are warm as they come to grasp at your face, holding you delicately; then he’s leaning in to you, drawing you closer and closer until his lips are pressed against yours. It’s unadulterated, but not without feverish passion, noses smushing together in both your eager hastiness to close the distance between the two of you. It doesn’t last long either, though that’s partly because Jungkook can taste your tears mingling on your lips, and can feel your faint smile form against his mouth. Kissing him feels both foreign yet familiar at the same time. You know the feel, the taste, and the sense of comfort that comes with it, but months apart from one another has left it feeling different.

Jungkook’s thumb wipes away at the tears on your face. “Why are you crying?”

It’s a useless question, he knows, but he needs something to fill the silence. He’s relieved when he hears you snicker. “Because I miss you, you idiot. And I’m sorry I’ve been acting like such an idiot. I’ve messed everything up.”

His own shoulders quiver with contented mirth. “It’ll be okay.” As he leans in once more for another kiss, you can feel him murmur against your mouth, “I promise I’ll make it up to you.”

“Then make it right,” You say, “right here and now.”

“I’ll do anything for you,” he promises earnestly.

Jungkook understands the underlying yearning in your voice even without having you explain yourself. He knows, if only because he can feel it too. As his hands fall to your waist, fingers digging into your skin, your own arms wrap around his neck and pull him into your apartment. He has you pressed up against the nearest wall within seconds, kissing at your throat, then up to your jawline.

“It’s been so long,” he sighs.

You hum in agreement, though your mind is already spinning, and all you can muster is a weak yet urgent croak of his name. “Jungkook.”

Your fingers thread through his hair, tugging at the roots and he croons with delight. His lips finally meet yours again, only this time he lets his tongue lav at your lower lip. Almost as soon as he does so, you notice something strange. It takes a moment for you to register the small metallic object that grazes your lower lip but when you do, you pull away from the boy.

“What’s wrong?” Jungkook asks in a confused dazed.

“Is that…” You rasp. “Did you get your tongue pierced?”

Suddenly, Jungkook is smirking, one brow shooting up to his hairline in a smug demeanour. He sticks out his tongue for you to see the silver ball poking through and you almost moan at the sight of it as the thought entices you.

“Oh.” Your face warms with a flustered blush. “That’s new.”

“Yeah,” he says. “Always wanted to get it done. Guess I was saving it for the right moment.”

“Right moment, huh?” You scoff as if the implications don’t already have your thighs rubbing together. “Care to explain?”

“I think you’ll find out soon enough.”

You dissolve into a fit of giggles, marvelling at the way Jungkook’s familiar flirtatious bantering can soothe your troubled heart at once. It’s almost as if time hasn’t lapsed between the two of you.

“I’ve missed this,” You sigh. “I’ve missed you, Jungkook.”

You spot him smiling before he’s kissing you again, this time his tongue slipping past your parted lips to meet yours midway. The piercing is strange to adjust to, but you get used to it quickly, humming at the feeling of it against the soft flesh of your tongue. It’s easy to get lost in one another’s lips as you pull and tug at Jungkook, guiding him to your bedroom, nearly tripping and stumbling over one another in the process. He knows the path like the back of his hand, the same way he knows every curve and dimple of your body as his greedy hands explore you. He has you sprawled out beneath him on the bed in a matter of seconds, carelessly shedding each other of your clothes until you’re left naked and he’s without a shirt.

As he’s tugging off the hoodie you’re wearing, he realizes two things abruptly. One: you’re not wearing anything beneath it, your bare body dazzling him at once. And, two: a sudden thought jogs his memory that makes him ponder aloud, “Is this my sweater?”

“Yes,” You admit sheepishly.

He smirks. “Was wondering where it went.”

“You forgot to take it back when…” You don’t finish your sentence. Instead, you tug your fingers at the hair at the nape of his neck, as if scared he’ll leave again. He doesn’t. Instead, he nestles his body between your legs, tonguing patterns on your neck. “I wear it sometimes, especially when I’m missing you. I don’t know… It just━ It still smells like you, even after all this time.”

Jungkook’s heart nearly implodes. He wonders briefly if he’d prefer fucking you without or with the hoodie; but then he’s letting himself time to study your naked body and he deduces he needs to gaze at you in your entirety a little longer.

“Keep talking,” he murmurs. He starts kissing down your body now, starting from your throat to your collarbones, between the valley of your breasts, then your navel. “Tell me more. How badly did you miss me?”

“So badly,” You whimper. Your legs instinctively part to make way for him as he shifts downward, kissing just above your core. A shudder runs down your spine when he kisses the inside of your thigh. “Sometimes I’d put your sweater on and touch myself to the thought of you.”

He grunts against you, teeth softly biting at your flesh. His tongue pokes against your thigh, the metallic piercing a dully cold sensation as he licks upward to your core. He laps at your folds, as if to taste the glistening cum that starts to form.

Your breath audibly hitches in your throat, hips jutting forward to meet his mouth. “I missed your hands, and the way they made me feel. Missed your mouth between my legs. Missed cumming on your tongue, or your fingers.”

Now, you’re starting to understand what he meant by waiting for the right moment to use the piercing to its fullest potential. As he lifts his head higher to tongue at your clit, the piercing makes your head spin. The contrast between his soft tongue and the harsh metal works wonders against you, rubbing you just the right way that has you a moaning mess beneath him within a matter of seconds.

“Fuck━” You cry out, hands twisting in his hair. “My hands never feel the same. You always made me feel so good, Jungkook.”

He hums something in response, the sound reverberating up your spine. He busies himself by replacing his tongue with his finger, rubbing small, controlled circles against your clit as he lowers his mouth to your folds. He teases the piercing against the sensitive flesh before lapping at your insides, burrowing further into you.

“Ooh, Jungkook━”

The noise that eclipses your throat is a piqued sob of delight. The piercing that scratches against your walls has your insides throbbing, body twisting and turning beneath him. You grab at your breasts, fingers pinching at the perked buds as you imagine Jungkook’s hands in replace of yours.

His mouth wraps just right around you and he sucks hard, earning a beautiful moan from you. It doesn’t take long for you to draw closer to your high, sputtering and whimpering at every action he does. Soon he’s burrowing his face even closer against your core, nose nudging against your clit in a way that makes you writhe and squirm. Before he can get carried away (and he certainly could), Jungkook decides to come to a stop which seems to thoroughly surprise and upset you. When you feel his missing warmth between your legs and the sticky wet mess accentuated further by the cool air that hits you, you pout like a child.

“That’s not fair,” you whine.

“Sorry, baby. Need to feel you.” He pulls away from you and crawls over your body once more. He kisses your lips, sloppy and heated, and lets you taste your own succulence on your tongue. “God, I need to feel you so bad.”

You’re just as much startled as you were seconds ago to hear the slight whine in his voice, a sound hot enough to almost push you over the edge.

“I’ve missed you too, just so you know,” he moans, burrowing his face in the crook of your neck. Your fingers continue to scratch delicately at his scalp and he simpers delightfully against you. He ruts his hips eagerly against yours, the bulge in his pants rough against your core. “So fucking much.”

“How much?” Now it’s your turn to ask, your curiosity getting the best of you once you find your voice.

“Every day,” he sighs as he continues to grind his hips into yours. “Get so hard at the thought of you. Your pretty mouth moaning my name. Your hands in my hair, just like this━” You pull a little tighter at the roots of his locks, and he has to stifle his contented moan. “And your body━ Fuck, your body. You take my dick so well, baby.”

“Jungkook,” You mewl impatiently. “Wanna feel you in me.”

“Fuck, okay. Okay━”

He hastens to rid himself of his pants and you help, arms momentarily tangling with one another in your rush. Then he’s kneeling before you, one hand planted firmly on your hip, rings digging roughly against your skin, as his other hand wraps a fist around his hard length, slowly pumping himself. He guides the tip of his leaking cock to your core and pushes himself forward carefully. He easily slips past your folds, coaxed by your slick walls, that he has to pause to give you both time to adjust to the feeling. It’s just as he remembered, though somehow better, and he isn’t so sure how long he’ll last. You don’t know either, marvelling in the way he stretches you open.

“Oh, shit,” he grunts.

He watches as your jaw drops open in a silent gap, your eyes fixed only on his. You grab at his hips, fingers scratching delicately over the laurel tattoos inked there, prompting him to move. He does so in one languid movement, burying deeper and deeper into you until you feel so full and he feels so warm. He fucks into you a little sluggish at first, taking his time and enjoying the way your clenching walls feel around his throbbing cock. It’s a pace so maddening that it soon has the both of you panting, heavy moans filling the space around you. Your own fingers dig into his shoulders, his back, his hips ━ anything to keep a hold on reality as you slowly lose yourself to the pleasure. He reaches for one of your hands, eager to feel you in more ways than one, and laces his digits with yours, pressing your clasped palms above your head. You squeeze tightly, his name falling from your lips in a cry.

“Doing so good,” he mumbles through gritted teeth. “Feel so nice, baby.”

Jungkook grasps at your hips and flips the two of you over. He lands on his back on the soft mattress and you fumble to not break the pace. Firmly planting your hands on his chest, you grind against him, sweat coating your forehead. He watches you with a dark fascination, brows screwed together and jaw clenched as your own cum starts leaking down his length. Not wanting to waste another moment without being beside you, he sits up and shifts you in his lap. Then he pulls you close to him, chest pulled flush against chest to the point where he can feel the rapid beat of your heart against his. You whimper aloud, wrapping your arms tightly around his neck as he guides your hips back and forth on him. There’s little to no space between your gyrating bodies, sweaty skin sticking to one another.

At some point, Jungkook notices you’re crying again, steady tears tangling in your lashes and wetting your face. Despite the way you’re driving him to near euphoria, he brushes your hair out of your face and manages to ask, “What’s wrong? Are you okay? Are you hurt?”

“I’m sorry━ fuck,” You gasp. He can tell you’re genuinely sympathetic for whatever’s making you cry but it’s hard for you to convey it properly when you’re still so consumed by him. “I’m so sorry━ I’m okay. I just━ You feel so good, Jungkook.”

“It’s okay,” he whispers, rubbing tender circles against your waist that contrasts with the fierce burn between your legs. “You’re okay, baby. Doing so well for me, aren’t you? Cum for me, yeah?”

You won’t tell him why you’re crying ━ not yet, at least. But Jungkook thinks he knows why; he can feel it too. The bitter sense of longing and mingling regret for all the time lost. The overwhelming feeling of love of finally being reunited. You continue to roll your hips against his, and he, breathless, rubs his nose faintly against yours, resting his forehead against yours.

It doesn’t take much longer after that for you to come tumbling to you high. He strokes your hair so lovingly as you ride him recklessly, leisure rolls of your hips driving you to your high. When you cum, the feeling completely washes over you and electricity crackles in your veins, warming your entire body. He holds you close to his chest the entire time as you writhe with pleasure, your walls clenching around his cock.

“Fuck, I’m gonna━” His voice splinters off as you busy yourself by sucking a bruise onto the underside of his jaw.

He reaches his high moments later just as you’re beginning to wince at the feeling of oversensitivity. He grunts and groans, spilling his hot seed into you, and then, with his hips slammed against yours, grinds leisurely to ride out your highs.

Then, the room falls silent.

Neither of you move from your warm embrace, with you still perched on his lap, his cock softening inside you as his cum runs down his length and onto your thighs. Your face is hidden in the crook of his neck, and he waits until you’ve both calmed down from your orgasms. You’re running your fingers through his sweaty hair, but he knows you’re still sad. He kisses you all over in the meantime, a few ticklish kisses that make you smile sleepily and a few loving ones that have your heart swelling. Then, he gingerly shifts your head to look at him.

“Why were you crying?” he asks silently.

It takes you a moment to respond. You cling to him tightly when you do and all he can do is cradle you closer to him. “I don’t want this to be some kind of drunken one night stand thing. Like we both needed one last fuck to get over each other, or something."

“You mean more to me than a one night stand,” Jungkook says and it makes you smile smally, a little timidly.

“That’s good,” You say, “because I’m not over you or us. I want us to work out. I love you too much to lose you again, and I’m scared this might be the last time I’ll ever see you.”

“I’m not letting that happen,” Jungkook shakes his head furiously. “I’d be an absolute idiot to let that happen. You won’t lose me. I’m not going anywhere this time. You’re my priority, Y/N. You always have been. Not the band and definitely not the record label.”

“I’m sure the boys will love to hear that,” You snort to yourself.

“Yeah, well, I’m sure they’ll understand,” Jungkook grins. But you’re only joking, and you know he sort of is too. That’s not to say the band isn’t still important to him, but you take precedent over it. “Without you, I wouldn’t even have the chance to be where I am now.”

You nuzzle your nose against his own, and he steals one sweet kiss from you.

“Do you really mean all that?”

“With my whole heart.”

And, when he says it, you know he means it. There’s no reason not to trust him.

You’ll both move eventually from one another’s arms, soft touches from Jungkook peeling you off of him and wrapping you in your covers before falling asleep beside you, and waking up in the morning with you in his arms. But, for now, it’s just you and him, a little broken still yet all the more in love.

While you both know healing a broken heart will take time, you’re both prepared for it because you’re both worth it to one another ━ and that’s all either of you really need in the end to make it right.

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