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i4oba · 2 months

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cassiopeia — njm.

jaemin & fem!reader ✰ soulmate!au

genre: angst?

summary: fate has its own little games, but giving only twenty-four hours is by far the most cruel of them all. and you have to endure that in every life of yours.

warnings: mention’s of death, major character’s death, a few cuss words??, it’s a bit angsty and has some suggestive themes somewhere in the middle :) .. but ofc it was written in flowery language so it’s not that bad! also it’s not proofread, sorry :,( … although it was written like 2 and a half years ago.. eheh SORRY IM STUPIDD

word count: 5k

author’s note: i originally wrote this story in my native language, which made it harder to tell it in english as well.. english isn’t capable of capturing my metaphors!!!! i hate it here!!!!! i sound stupid in english!!!!!!!! >:(

and no matter how many times have you been staring at the night sky, even hundreds of stars weren’t able to show you the right directions. no matter how diligent you were on finding those constellations, recognizing them wasn’t enough to make you less lost in the vast world of ours. you could have done anything as you were lying down on the freshly mowed grass, looking at those stars, alligned even, which you two had always been mentioning over the time — the feeling of emptiness wouldn’t go away. as you focused on the stars and how bright they were glowing, your arms stretched out in hopes of being able to touch them: everything became even more painful. and as your fingers were dancing in the air, from one star to another, your eyes teared up and your mind was screaming only one thing: enough. it was all enough. since you hated this with your whole existence. and the cassiopeia was reminding you of this constantly;

you have never been able to decide whether remembering is worse or forgetting. you would have loved to experience both at least once, but fate gave you a different card. one, which you carefully choose from the big card house, telling you something: your curse is remembering. and as you hold that little card in your hands, glaring at the crimson coloured letters, you feel like screaming all of your bottled up anger out every time. you always feel like protesting against fate, you want to say and do otherwise but were you ever in a place to do so? you have never had the chance. thus you learnt how to bear with it, what else was there to do? getting into a fight with the fates who were so focused on directing your life, having an evil smile on their faces as they were slowly cutting the thread of that person’s life, who was the sole reason you could stay sane? would you have stolen those old and rusty scissors from their hands, putting a dot after their history of standing so tall, being placed higher in the invisible hierarchy between people and them? would you have given some more time to you two? would you have changed past, present and future?

all of it is just a wandering thought which crosses your mind frequently through your days as you live your boring life. you spend every day with planning out your dirty little revenge, and end it with the conclusion: you’re unable to do it. admitting it felt like losing a game against something you could not even see. and this uncertainity put you in a state of something close to insanity through every life you have lived as the time has passed.

through these lives, you have experienced so many things but the worst part was always those twenty-four hours, which was completed with more and more tears and pain as the centuries passed. in the first lifespan you were pretty much naive, hopeful and happy, that twenty-four hour only made you confused. you could not process what was happening. but later on, you figured it out, having to accept the misery that came with it. you could understand why all of this is such a big sacrifice. in your fourth life have you cried first and you can still feel the fingers wiping your hot tears away, the ice cold feeling of them leaving an unforgettable trace on your skin. to this day, you still vividly remember that moment and feeling how trying hard was never enough, and the bittersweet taste lingering in your mouth has slowly started to fade away. it has become meaningless. harsh and almost so cruel.

but you still didn’t know which one is worse: being the one who forgets or remembering everything so vividly.

jaemin will never be able to comprehend this. after all, he didn’t have to live those grey lives which was coordinated by the suffocating feeling of trying to reach solutions and having to give up. after all, he wasn’t the one who had to watch his loved one’s death over and over again and he wasn’t the one either who had to carry the weight of the pain this caused. since he got the card of forgetting, which was followed by one single thing since gambling with the ones from above is not that clear and easy as we all think it is.

and the price did not only made his life worse, it controlled yours as well.

the first time you have heard the definiton of a “soulmate”, you were halfway through your sixth life. back then, even saying the word felt so strange but as you said it out loud more and more, having the thought of it in your mind constantly, it made you realize something: you and jaemin are the best, exact example of those said soulmates. but inside a horrible cage you weren’t able to leave. it had the feeling of a really bad book which was written by a prestigious author who had a really evil side to their personality. you could even imagine his pen scratching the paper, completed with the blue ink which allegorically wrote the story of you two. a terrible fairy tale that people use to scare their children, saying that this is going to be their fate if they misbehave. and as one of them, you would have believed their words. you would have been terrified. you were in fact scared, that cannot be denied.

on top of that, you had to live in this story, through so many years. no matter how many times you were praying, down on your knees, waiting for it to reach its end, you did not get what you wanted. and you have always felt like it wasn’t fair. ruthlessness transcending through lives which your friends didn’t have to experience. you had hundreds of them but somehow they were lucky. you were counting down the hours, the minutes and even the seconds as if it was like a test, but they always failed. they were able to not get lost in the maze of fate that trapped you and jaemin inside. they were special, all of them.

or were you two the special ones?

you were completely sure about your answer: no. although the thought of being the “chosen ones” has crossed your mind before, as if you two were something like a transcendent, but as years passed, along with centuries and lives, you could only figure one thing: you will never be fully happy. happiness is relative anyway, something you can’t put your hands on, it’s everything around us and everything that’s not at the same time. it seems so far away from you at moments, but on other days it’s so close you could reach it easily but no one could really define what it really is. it’s different in everyone’s lives, the way it becomes the same with many different things, varying on the person. even the sound of the word was music to the ears even if they didn’t know what it is exactly. everyone gets to know it along their journey, their lifetime and they may be lucky to being able to put their fingers on it, they can feel it and they can drag it with themselves.

for you, happiness was the same as those twenty-four hours that guided you through your lives. that small amount of time that you were keen on finding as soon as possible, putting everything on the line. which meant everything and nothing at the same time. and the thought of this was always able to bring some light into your rather bitter life, where the shadows grew too huge, close to consume you completely.

just like in your present life. which, of course isn’t really that bad, it is one of the best ones, to be quite honest but the emptiness inside of you was quite like a dark hole. it made you hopeless even though you had a goal. one that was so dear to you, saint even, which you could have tried to explain to anyone, none of them would have understood it. everyone thought you’re crazy and that you need therapy. even if the last one was true, you knew you’re going to eventually find jaemin, may it be on a rainy day in a bus stop, in a diner’s silent corner or in the university you’re currently attending.

but no. none of these were correct. every time you went to these places, fate was trickier than you would have thought and this was well-known to you.

you had to face this in a newly opened museum which had the slogan, “only miracles are awaiting here”.

how true this was… a real miracle.

as you walked from rooms to the others, all alone, somehow all thoughts left your mind. as if it was the cure, the new atmosphere and the exhibition, as if running back into the past had an effect similar to a band aid. it could get its job done for a while but sooner or later, it would give up as well. just like every solution you had tried out in the past years. nothing was permanent and there was no guarantee.

while you were staring at those paintings, listening to other people’s excited conversations, all you could think of was the loneliness. shivers went down your spine, the consonants following the vowels, creating something so new and so negative. the word you hated the most. and the word that was the title of the oil painting in front of you, seemingly too perfect for the symbolic work of art. a bad feeling took over you. you paid one last look to the framed beauty, glaring at the darkness and the pitch black shadows. after that, you left the room. the heavy atmosphere and the pictures of nightmare.

that’s when you entered the smallest exhibition hall where only a piece of paper was shown. it was protected with thick glass, making you wonder why is it such a big deal. why would they keep an old, yellow paper where the words were probably blurred together in the exhibition? it is supposed to be in the archives anyway, or does it not? putting these thoughts aside, you took a few steps closer to the “artwork”, eyebrows raised as curiosty took over you.

“love letter from the eighteenth century” was written on the little description, so you bent down a little to take a better look and maybe figure out why it was so special. and staring at those two papers which turned brown in the past years, the big realisation hit you: it was your letter. you wrote it. becoming aware of this fact made you froze in an instant, only being able to read the text filled with beautifully written cursive over and over again. and then you looked up, only to meet with a pair of eyes through the glass.

the person you wrote the letter for.

looking at him with the barrier between you two, suddenly you didn’t know what to do. seeing his face, his beautiful smile, it felt like someone gave you some extra energy. before your brain could have reacted to all of this, your legs took the control, running to him. you hugged him, melting into his touch, trying to embrace his fragrance, hoping that it will linger a little longer in your nose and mind as well. you didn’t want to believe this. nor what was coming next, alongside with the reunion.

“sorry for being late” he whispered while he stroked your hair carefully, arms tight around you. as if the moment was going on forever, it made you forget about everything. it made you feel glad. your own little happiness has found you again. but it cannot stay so long.

“i could wait thousands of years for you, jaemin” you told him truthfully, eyes searching for his. you hugged him once again. you couldn’t get enough of his hugs. “there are so many things we have to discuss, i literally… don’t even know where to start” you intertwined your fingers and dragged him with you, him simply letting you do so. since he knew: you have been waiting for this moment to come for so long. this is why you were suffering for years on end. but before you could have leave the basement, he set a timer.

for twenty-four hours.

“and how was… basically everything so far?” you asked jaemin who was picking at the food in front of him, not having the courage to look at you.

“not that nice” he replied and you heard his voice being a little hesitant. “but hey, at least i don’t have to bear it anymore!” he tried to joke about the situation but your worried glance told him to stop. don’t do it. it’s not funny.

“i really have to apologize for not finding you soon enough.”

“no, please, don’t. you should never blame yourself” he reached out for your hands, stroking it with his thumbs carefully. “it’s not your fault. neither mine. it’s just a bad joke of those who think they are above us. we cannot do anything about that.”

“and neither against it…”

“look, y/n” jaemin cleared his throat before continuing. “in these rather short lives of mine, i figured out something. fate cannot be rewritten nor changed. everything’s going to happen like it was decided before. just imagine a big book that’s made by gods. our story is just one part of that great book which consists of other many tales, millions of them. we are too small and worthless to add to our story, we can’t complete it however we would love to. that’s their job to do. they are the only ones that are able to erase things and make something new out of them. they are everything we have and we are nothing more than a small piece of the big picture to them.”

“we’re only just marionettes which they can play with whenever they want to” you added mumbling quietly. jaemin was chewing on his lips while he nodded. eventhough admitting it hurts, your words meant the truth.

you two were only mere props in the endless play with the name of “the cycle of life”.

“but hey, no need to be sad!” he wiped the tears aways as soon as he spotted one crossing your face in a fast pace. “we should enjoy this day so we could annoy the gods! are you in?” he stood up, grabbing your hands carefully. and you gave in. what else would you have done? after all, you were the one stressing endlessly through your whole life, it would have been a pity to miss the chance;

on the passenger seat of jaemin’s really old toyota, so many things were running in your mind. as you were focusing on the picturesque landscape, too many thoughts were attacking you suddenly — were you even able to sort those out in the dusty storage of your mind? only the warm touch of jaemin’s hand, feeling too hot on your legs, made you go back and forth between one thing and being sane.

and as if he read your mind, he gave voice to it.

“there’s no such thing as impossible, knowing and feeling how love transcends time and space, it’s...”

your head jerked up upon hearing his words. you wanted to solve your dear lover’s expression. the way the last words fall out of his lips and how those said lips were slightly smiling while his eyes were searching for yours. everything felt so surreal. you were weak and small but the thing between you was able to make you believe the opposite: you are the strongest of them all.

which, being completely serious, is true. since enduring all those lives is something only the strongest people can do. only they are able to watch the person they were assigned to, slowly fading away between their fingers;

reaching the local park, this was all you could think about. the memories you have made with jaemin only became sharper and even him being there with you, weren’t able to heal your scars. he held your hand, smiled and told you multiple times: he loves you. everytime he repeated those three words, the slight worry always became more and more visible. no matter how strongly you were holding onto the boy, it has became more clear: you’re going to lose him either way.

but that’s the thing you should think about the least. you need to focus on enjoying every moment. the fact that you can sit comfortably on the checkered blanket with him, spending a whole day together. the fact that you can have a picnic, you can talk for hours on end, your love is not unrequited anymore. you could have hide it but the years made you sometimes too unamused.

“why aren’t we ending this already?” you asked mindlessly, and as soon as you put a grape in your mouth, you regretted your words as jaemin’s face slowly became serious.

“please, don’t say things like this, okay? enjoy this day to its fullest. i want to love you until i go crazy. at least through this damn day.”

“i’ve loved you through this whole lifetime” you told him, fighting the urge to cry. “you have no idea how hard it is to think about it every god damn day. if people think you’re insane and let you rot in your own, personal pit. you don’t know how much it hurts to get in your bed, knowing that you have to go through your lover’s… your soulmate’s death someday. the one’s death that you love the most in the whole universe.” your voice was filled with uncontrollable emotions — regret rushed over you seeing him, teary eyed and confused.

“maybe. but dying isn’t that nice either.” his reply was bitter and his intention was clear: he wanted to leave you and calm down a bit. but you didn’t let him. you reached out for his hand and pulled him closer to yourself. he stared into your eyes but you didn’t say a word. that’s why he broke the silence. “all day, all i can focus on is that we can’t have a family. i can’t have a kid and i can’t grow old with you. i cannot love you utterly and completely for a whole lifetime. they took everything from us, that’s true… but let’s do something against that. please.”

“what could we do, jaemin? even if i shout at the sky above us, nothing will change! i’ve had enough and i just…”

before you could have finished your sentence, a big dog that was previously running around in the park, came to you two, sniffing your basket and deciding on being your company. your little argue was cut off by a golden retriever who was looking at you and jaemin, big eyes filled with curiosity. and you got a kiss from the dog too!

“isn’t this what other people call… little doze of happiness?” you said quietly, peeking at jaemin while petting the dog, looking at his collar, searching for a name. “buddy! what a cute name!”

“you see, y/n? that’s what i want. rendezvous, petting dogs, joy and sunshine. why can’t we get this?”

why?

what you have learnt from your experiences is one single thing: time is money and it won’t wait. as if the hours were passing by much faster in those twenty-four hours, one can be gone in a blink of an eye. you despised this, you have always hated that it had to be like this way, that you couldn’t stop time or travel to a whole another universe, waking up in a world where you can have a happy life with your dear lover.

the night came by so quickly you didn’t even realize its presence at first. the hours were going so fast, you couldn’t process the speed of it. you could only avert your attention from it as much as you were possibly able to. and in that moment, laying in the grass and gazing at the stars, it felt like as if you wasted every precious minute. but it felt so nice, eyes focused on the starry night, stars glowing shinier than one another, hands intertwined and fingers pointing at the sky. you gave the stars names and were adamant on finding more and more constellations. stargazing was what you two loved the most.

and then you saw the cassiopeia. the one thing that could remind you of the endless loop you and jaemin were in. spotting the constellation, you stood up in the grass and looked at your lover. his moonlit figure was equivalent to the most beautiful artwork in the whole universe. you were disgustingly in love with him. and that came with pain. so much pain.

“shouldn’t we go inside?” you asked suddenly, playing with your fingers while trying to avoid his gaze.

“you want to go in, love?”

you could only nod as an answer but he did what you wanted, without asking any further questions. he wanted to make you happy, more than anything. he wanted to see an honest smile on your face which can warm his heart up. since not only you were in a panic, he was too. but he preferred to not show it.

eventhough he was a master of everything else. and he showed it to you that night.

such heavenly words left his lips, he could have made a whole essay out of it, filled with emotions he wanted to show you on that short night that was given by fate; love, care and gratitude came out of his actions as he was talking to you, the way he handled everything. the way he mumbled in your ears without stop, the magical word “love” being repeated over and over, the way he touched you, the way he kissed you and the way he hugged you. he perfectly knew everything about you, he knew about your soft spots, he knew every inch of your body and he was so eager to discover it all over again since he can never get enough of you. he loved to trace his fingers over your figure, losing control here and there with those touches, reaching places that were the most precious to him. he loved to see how you reacted, how you said his name after every, sweet kiss of his, the way your voice was so shaky with every passing minute. as if he was playing a game with you, but that wasn’t the case. he showed you his true colours and you did the same. you were an open book in front of him, waiting for a sign from him. a small stroke of a brush which indicates that he was there. the marks blooming in thousands of colours, blue and purple, looking like the galaxy from above. you were like canvas to him, his signature on the corner of the painting, as if he was the painter. the artist. which was true, after all.

and as you were holding those stars in your hands, previously seen on the sky, you felt like you entered heaven. it had a feeling of warmth, the way those bright stars were in your hands, put there by jaemin. you could finally have it and you never wanted to let go of it. you could see that kind of reflection in your dear lover’s eyes, mirroring the honest feelings, the loyalty that connected you two. it was able to warm your heart up before crushing it. breaking it into millions of pieces.

that’s how it was with him. although it should have been much different.

and the brightest stars of them all, was brought the closest to you. you held it tightly and you were so stubborn on never letting it go. you closed your eyes and all you could focus on was jaemin’s quiet murmurs next to you.

dreams took you by surprise, although you wanted to avoid sleeping. but now, somehow you didn’t care about anything anymore. you gave in and entered dreamland together. close to each other — the closest ever.

at least during the night, you could pretend to be normal people. at least for a night.

waking up, the first thing that came to mind was checking up on the remaining time but as your eyes met jaemin and how peacefully he slept, time seemed to stop for a while. for a few moments, you could only study his face, the way he seemed so relaxed and comfortable. you watched his chest moving with every breath he took. you would have loved to give him a sweet little kiss but you didn’t have the heart to wake him up. eventhough you were aware of the fact: minutes are passing by in a hurry and every blink was equal to the end of your happiness.

“since when are you looking this attentively, love?” he asked in a sleepy voice before he opened his eyes. the corner of his lips went up a little as he felt your touch on his face. plus the small peck you greeted him with made the day a hundred times better. “i won’t lie if i say that you are the best thing the universe has ever created” his mumble was almost inaudible but you could still hear caring ringig in his speech.

for a long time, this was the first morning when waking up, you could hear the birds’ music so clear. the soft kind of song which mixed with the early rays of the sun, them not being able to fully warm up the room. everything felt so idillic, like it was a fairy tale. and if it hadn’t got such depressing ending, you would have agreed it was one.

“how did you say two lives before?” jaemin smiled and squeezed your hands, looking up and down on your face. “even the sun rose up today so it can follow the last few hours of our sorrowful tragicomedy?”

“how can you remember so perfectly? i mean… i am the one who should never forget, isn’t that true?” you shook your head, your grip on his hands tightening.

“looking at you calls out the hidden memories buried in the depths of my mind, you know.”

the rest of the day was dedicated to trying to enjoy it as much as you could, even if there wasn’t that much time in your hands. you had a long walk, holding each other’s hand, you ate delicious foods and tried everything that’s considered as the “perfect date”, corny things you have only seen in romance movies. it felt like the most treasured possession you had — time. after every kiss you gave to jaemin, you tried to remind him how thankful you were, stressing out the word “treasure”, letting him analyze the word as well. letting him repeat is and define whether it’s worth everything or nothing. whether it’s equal to love or not.

in the last hour of your time that was given, you two went back to your family’s house and its large backyard. no one was home so it made it much easier to sit on the ground and look at the sky once again, following the clouds’ slow pace.

“my current mother told me once that love takes something with itself every time…” jaemin said suddenly, out of nowhere, attentively looking at one certain cloud which he identified as a ‘dog’, based on its shape.

“what do you mean by that?”

“this is what love takes from us.” he mumbled, not really sure of his words. maybe he’s saying dumb stuff and his theory isn’t actually right.

“your current mother is right, i fear” only a sigh escaped your lips but you still continued, eyes fixed on the sky. “we have to pay for being together. but why is the price so high?”

you didn’t get any answers to your question, only a hum. you knew this is what’s going to happen, you didn’t wait for anything else. after all, jaemin barely knew anything about the world, maybe half of your knowledge was there for him, perhaps even less than that. if you couldn’t find the answer, why would he suddenly get the idea? you had centuries to think about it and he always forgot everything. maybe he was the one who won. in your eyes, it seemed like that.

as time passed and the sun started to set, you felt it coming. the last kiss was shared twenty minutes ago, too weak already. but his hand… you did not let go of that. you weren’t ready to lose him. you believed you would give him strength, that you can spare his life. but no, it was not the case. as you embraced him, all you could focus on was his heavy breathing and the way he told you nonchalantly: “i don’t want to die, it hurts”. tears were falling down on his face which was so pale and full of misery. his voice lost its colour slowly and everything felt like the worst nightmare one could think of.

“y/n, i… it hurts…”

his hands were weak and cold. you stroked his face, barely touching him because of the fear: you might cause more pain. you ran your fingers through his hair and found his gaze. yours was fixed on his iris, trying to look for the solution in there — it might be hidden. the last little piece of the final formula. but you couldn’t find it. you’ve never been able to.

the last sentence you heard from him in the current lifetime of yours consisted of three words. three simple yet so heartwarming words, barely escaping his lips.

“i love you.”

and you had to witness the agony of death once again, it was the price for the day. for your everything.

everything started all over again. greyness and gloom took over your life as the last little source of light faded away slowly, vanishing completely. and before you could have thought it’s going to be different this time, you knew it’s not true.

since that’s not what the book of fate had carved into its chapters. you two were destined for something else.

“i love you too, jaemin.”

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rottenroyalebooks · 10 months

Text

It's a bad idea, right?

Series: The Mortal Instruments

Pairing: Jace Wayland x Fem!Reader

Genre: Angst to Fluff, Friends to Lovers

Warnings: Possibly OOC Jace, slight description of Reader (mainly that Jace is taller than her), use of Y/N. All characters are aged 18+.

Summary:

Y/N has a Warlock ex that seems to have her under his spell, metaphorically speaking, and every time he calls, she answers.

Jace has had enough of watching her go back to him repeatedly. Because they're friends, definitely not because he's in love with her or anything.

A/N: Guys, I have finally caved into my desires and am diving deep into the world of The Mortal Instruments. I watched most of the show a few years ago and saw the movie a few days ago, which led me to buy a box set of the 6 Mortal Instruments books. I am just about halfway through The City of Bones, so I still have a lot of learning to do. Forgive me if I need to correct something.

Also, I love all the show characters, but Movie Jace feels closer to Book Jace than Show Jace, so I am committed to Movie Jace for visual representation and Movie Jace only.

Does that make sense to you? Yes? Cool.

"You were where last night?" Izzy asked her a bit too loudly as she and Y/N walked into the weapons room where Alec and Jace were working on cleaning their weapons used from the previous mission.

Y/N shushed her as the two boys looked over, "Seriously, whatever happened to private girl talk?"

Izzy rolled her eyes, speaking lower than before so the guys wouldn't hear, "What ever happened to cutting him out of your life? Finding a new guy to get in your bed to get over him, that's why we went to Pandemonium last night, remember?"

Y/N huffed in response. Of course, she knew that's why Izzy and Clary dragged her to Pandemonium. It was a plan that she had yet to be very keen on. Izzy had gone to powder her nose, and Clary went to dance when Demetrius Black approached her on the dance floor, convincing her to leave with him.

It never took much convincing. He never went to Pandemonium, so she thought it was safe, but alas, she woke up in his bed again with her favorite tea made just the way she liked it on the nightstand next to her. He was nowhere to be seen.

Izzy rolled her eyes at the lack of response, "I need to put a tracker on you, like an outdoor cat." She turned on her heels and walked away.

Y/N sighed, running a hand through her hair before leaving the weapons room. She needed to punch something, so she soon found her way to the training room, where a punching bag sat calmly in the middle.

Then she beat the shit out of it.

"Stupid Demetrius and his stupidly charming attitude."

One Two.

"Stupid me for falling for it, again."

One Two Three.

"And stupid Mundane girl who couldn't keep her grimy hands to herself!"

With enough force of one last punch, the bag flew backward, hitting the wall as she let out a long groan of anger.

"Do you wanna talk about it?" Jace's voice appeared behind her making her jump out of her skin.

"Jesus Christ,"

"Not exactly." He smirked, but she ignored his comment.

"Do you feel the need to scare everyone or just me? Am I that special?" Sarcasm dripped from her lips as she began walking over to the punching bag so she could put it back in its usual location.

"Stop dodging my question. Do you want to talk about why you punched the bag across the room?"

She signed, letting the bag stand back up, "Will you try not to make fun of me for at least ten minutes if I tell you."

He chuckled, leaning against a pillar with his signature smug look, "I'll try my very best."

She couldn't look him in the eye, but she told him everything. From Izzy's plan to it failing when she left her alone for not even five minutes to waking up in her ex's bed again.

His expression was stoic throughout the entire time she was speaking; all of Jace's smugness and ego quickly flushed away as envy flooded his veins.

She didn't notice his change in expression because she refused to look at him.

"I know it's stupid, but it's like he put a spell on me."

"You have a permanent ruin to block any Warlock from using that magic on you."

She groaned, "I meant metaphorically." She plopped down on the bench and ran a hand through her hair.

"Well, I don't even know what you see in the Warlock-"

"Alec is with Mangus, and you never have anything to say about that, but when I date a Downworlder who has helped us just as much as Mangus has, you suddenly have an issue?"

He didn't have a chance to think before he spoke, blurting out, "I can't stand to see you hurting yourself with someone who doesn't deserve you."

Her head snaps to finally make eye contact; she lets her emotions talk without knowing what to think, "You don't get to decide who deserves me, Jace. You're not my father, and you're not my brother. Don't act like it."

He stepped closer to where she was sitting, "He cheated on you. Remember that? You cried to Clary and Izzy for days about it, then you cried yourself to sleep after all that," He saw the shocked look on her face, "We share a wall, remember? The same wall both of our beds are up against. I heard it all and witnessed you tear yourself apart from all the insecurities he gave you. So yes, I may not be in a position to say it, but I can say for certain that he doesn't deserve you."

The tension between the two shadow hunters was so thick that you could cut it with a knife. Neither of them said anything else, just stared at each other until she stood up and brushed past him.

"Thanks for the reminder."

Jace only watched as she left the room, wanting to walk after her but feeling paralyzed where he stood. He cursed under his breath and looked down at his feet.

It was his turn to send the punching bag flying across the room.

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

That night, the group went on a mission to track down a Vampire, killing humans left and right. Clary had poked around through the different nests in the city with Alec and Izzy, but none of them seemed to be acquainted with the rouge Vampire.

Jace and Y/N were tasked with searching Pandemonium for the Vampire or any information retaining it.

Things between them were still tense, and the others could see it, but Jace had been the one to wordlessly follow her to Pandemonium. The music was loud and beating through her head, making the memories from the night prior resurface, but she shook it off as she looked around for any suspicious Downworld behavior.

She and Jace had split up in the crowd, which meant she was alone when she felt her phone buzz in her back pocket. She pulled it out seeing a text from Demetrius:

Demetrius: I can tell you're working from how you dress tonight, but meet me at the bar. I might have the information you are searching for. ;)

Tensing up, she looks over at the bar seeing Demetrius leaning against it in all his glory, smirking knowingly at her. She pushed her hurt deep down and walked over to him.

"Well, you look lovely tonight, darling." He said, reaching out to touch her hair when she stopped about two feet away, but she smacked his hand away quickly.

"No time for pleasantries, Demetrius. Do you know anything about a Rouge Vampire, or are you wasting my time?"

"Playing hard to get tonight? Let me buy you a drink." He said as he waved to the bartender to get his attention.

She scoffed, shaking her head, "I knew this was a waste of time--" She stopped speaking when she backed into someone's chest; she didn't even need to look up to know it was Jace. She didn't realize he found them.

Jace didn't move at the contact; he only stared at Demetrius, who noticed he was standing there because she had stopped speaking.

"Oh look," he commented, bored, "It's the guard dog. Don't you have anything better to do than following her around like a lost puppy?"

"We're working, Demetrius." She spoke as Jace opened his mouth, cutting him off before a fight could break out, "Since you don't actually have any information for me, I am going to leave."

She brushed past Jace, leaving the two boys at the bar and disappearing into the crowd.

Jace followed her with his eyes until he knew she was out of earshot. Looking back at Demetrius with a glare that could kill a thousand men, he said, "If you come near her again, I will not hesitate to track you down and kill you myself."

Demetrius smirked, taking a sip from his drink, "And break The Clave's precious rules? From what she told me, you are one of those who respect the Covenant more than anything."

Jace took two steps forward, standing toe to toe with the Warlock, a look of pure hatred in his eyes, "I would break a thousand rules if it made her happy. I would break a thousand rules to make sure she is safe. Don't test me, Warlock."

Demetrius took another sip of his drink, "I always knew, from the moment I had the displeasure of meeting you, that you were in love with her. I watched as you protected her like a lovesick puppy even though she was head over heels in love with me. Now that she is single, why haven't you swept her off her feet to prevent her from falling into my bed?"

He leaned close to his ear, saying just above a whisper, "Maybe it's because you know she will never love you back."

Jace shoved him away, stalking off to get back to work. Only to watch as she left the storage room and in his direction; as she passed him, she said, "Threat has been neutralized, let's get out of here."

She was annoyed. Mostly at herself for thinking he wouldn't come back to her favorite club to antagonize her, but also at the fact that she had to take on a Vampire by herself because Jace decided to have a little chat with her ex.

At the same time, she was proud of herself for finally avoiding Demetrius' charm like the plague. Progress is Progress.

As she exited Pandemonium, she pulled out her phone and started texting Clary to let them know the Vampire was found and taken care of, but Jace pulled her phone out of her hands.

"I'll take that." He said as he went to her contacts lists.

Her jaw dropped, "Jace! Give that back!" She snapped, watching him smirk at her phone as he tapped the screen a few times before giving it back to her.

"First step, blocking your ex's number."

She rolled her eyes and brushed passed him. Raising her hand, a cab drove up to her almost immediately.

"How do you always get cabs so quickly?" He muttered loud enough for her to hear as he stood behind her protectively.

"It's a gift," she said flatly, getting into the cab and scooting over so Jace could get in, even though she wanted him to get his own taxi.

"You cant just avoid me forever." He said into her ear once she got comfortable after telling the driver where to drop them off.

She crossed her arms, staring straight ahead, "Watch me."

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

"Jace, let you fight the Vampire by yourself?" Izzy asked her in the kitchen of the Institute, snacking on popcorn with Clary on the opposite side of her as the three girls usually did after a hunt.

"He didn't let me; he was at the bar talking with Demetrius. I thought he followed me into the crowd when I left the bar, but he wasn't behind me when I found the Vampire and pointed it out to him." She ran a hand through her hair and looked down, "I didn't want to lose him, so I followed the Vampire into the storage room, scared off the mundane that was with him, and killed the bloodsucker."

Clary laughed, "And you did it by yourself."

Y/N shrugged, "It was easy because he was a new Vampire who didn't have anyone to guide him."

"What did Jace say when you told him you took care of it?" Izzy tossed another piece of Popcorn into Clary's mouth, and she caught it successfully.

"He didn't react, just followed me out and got rid of Demetrius' contact on my phone."

Clary nearly choked on her popcorn before swallowing it, "He did what?"

Sighing, she nodded, "Yeah, talk about quitting cold turkey."

Izzy giggled, elbowing Clary lightly. "Maybe Jace will finally start courting her."

Y/N raised an eyebrow; Jace was into someone? That was new information, "Courting who? We don't come into contact with many shadow hunters unless he has a secret Mundane lover."

Blinking, Izzy looked from Clary to Y/N and back to Clary, "Is she serious?"

"I think she is."

"Okay, what are you two going on about?" She asked, crossing her arms over her chest, blinking at the two of them.

"How do we put this nicely-" Clary began speaking, but Izzy cut her off, "Jace has been in love with you since we were thirteen."

Taken aback, all Y/N could do was laugh, "What? No! You guys are crazy. The only person Jace loves is himself." She rolled her eyes, grabbing a few pieces of popcorn.

Clary spoke up, "When I first learned I was a Shadow Hunter and Jace brought me to the institute, I thought he was cute, but then I saw the way he looked at you, and I thought you two were a thing for a whole month until I saw you making out with a mundane near Pandemonium."

"I remember that!" Izzy giggled, turning to Y/N, "Clary freaked out and came running to me saying that you cheated on Jace and that we needed to tell him. It was so funny trying to explain to her that the two of you weren't a thing."

"My point is," Clary interjected, looking at Y/N, "Jace Wayland has been pining over you for so long. He's extra protective of you. When you came home crying a few months ago because the dirtbag cheated on you, Alec had to stop him from hunting him down and killing him without a second thought."

Y/N sank in her chair, blinking, "I had no idea."

"You're just a little oblivious; it's okay," Izzy said, patting her head.

She shook her head, "It's late. I'm going to bed."

She exited the chair and said goodnight to the two girls before leaving the kitchen.

She was going to bed, but then her feet decided to take her to where she knew Jace would be at this time of night.

The garden.

She opened the door quietly, searching for the blond among the flowers and plants, when she spotted him sitting on a bench. He was reading a book that she couldn't read the title of because of how old it was. She walked over to him and placed her hands in her sweater pockets, "You know how to read?"

He looked up at her from his book, "Sneaking up on people is supposed to be my thing."

"You'll have to learn how to share. May I sit?"

He nodded, closing the book with a bookmark between the pages, and moved to one side of the bench to make room for her to sit, "Are you okay?"

She nodded, "I will be. Thank you for being there for me back at Pandemonium and in the training room earlier today. I needed to hear the truth. Even though my stance on the fact you need to work on your comforting skills stays intact." She teased him lightly, making him chuckle.

"I'm sorry you had to deal with the Vampire alone while I was defending your honor; it won't ever happen again."

"It better not." She chuckled, leaning back and relaxing on the bench, stifling a yawn, "Because I might just have to kill you myself, then."

"As if you would dare lay a mark on my greatest asset." He gestured to his face making Y/N roll her eyes and slapped his hand away.

"That ego of yours is going to be the death of me one day. Do I have to worry about you falling in love with your own reflection and drowning because of it like Narcissus?"

Letting out a laugh, Jace shook his head, looking up at the time on his watch, the very one she had gotten him for his last birthday, "It's getting late. You need rest."

"So do you," she fired back, standing up and glaring at him, "We need you at the top of your game, come on."

He chuckled, standing up and holding the book against his hip as they left the garden together and walked through the Institute.

"Do you need some tea to help you relax?" She asked, tilting her head up at him.

He smiled down at her, "No, I can manage."

They approached their rooms silently, he walked her to her door, and she nodded, "Goodnight, Jace."

He watched as she disappeared into her room, closing the door behind her, but he didn't move to his room next door, even though he should have.

No, he thought about how he realized Demetrius' words were true. He loved her and didn't know what to do with this information.

He raised his hand to knock on her door again, wanting to get the rejection over with, but just before his fist could make contact with the wood, the door opened, followed by her voice saying, "Jace, wait." before getting cut off by realizing he was standing there still.

The two stood there wordlessly, staring at each other. No one knew who made the first move that night, but soon Y/N felt his hands cupping her face as their lips touched.

It felt right, kissing Jace; he was gentle yet passionate, as if he were making up for the lost time, which he was. As it turned out, so was she.

When they broke apart for air, nothing could stop their mutual smiles from appearing on their faces as Jace rested his forehead on hers.

"Sleep in my room tonight? We can talk about this in the morning."

He nodded, picking her up over his left shoulder, causing a light squeal to leave her lips as he walked into the room, closing the door with his foot.

#writers of tumblr #fanfiction #rottenwrites #shadowhunters #the mortal instruments #jace wayland #jace wayland x reader #alec lightwood #isabelle lightwood #clary fairchild #shadow hunters fic #x reader #i don't know if i like this but I'm posting it anyway

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wlwinry · 2 months

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could i know more of your thistlecaster thoughts/any hc’s??

YES sorry ive become insufferable about them im gonna list off everything off the top of my head

classic example of fell first/fell harder. after the breakup w zelda gorgug sorta gradually spirals into being in love w fabian but he's very much like "im not gonna put my crush on him, i'll tell him at some point but i don't wanna mess things up" and he's very...not casual but not constantly freaking out about it. meanwhile fabian gets hit by the metaphorical "in love with gorgug" bus and proceeds to be so uncool about it to the point where everyone BUT gorgug notices his crush. it's the "leans against a vending machine and breaks it" scene w mazey but 10x worse

they spar A Lot, because they're the two main melee fighters/the ones who don't rely heavily on spellcasting in combat, which means they work together on the field A Lot. as such they're very good at reading each other's body language

PDA couple alert. not to trackerbees levels there is no 69ing on the battlefield but fabian is constantly holding gorgug's hand or leaning against his side and gorgug is constantly hugging fabian from behind or resting his chin on his head. fabian is touch-starved (hallariel isn't exactly the cuddling type and bill's physical affection tends to come in random bone-cracking bursts) and just sort of melts into gorgug

he also melts into gorgug bc gorgug is very earnest and sweet and fabian "expressing genuine vulnerability is dangerous" does not know how to process this other than by becoming a ball of deeply enamored mush

you've never seen someone give as many gifts as fabian does. even if it's just smth like a coffee or tea when they meet up before classes bc fabian knows that he needs the extra energy. there's big gifts too, like the giant workshop and lab he converts one of the multiple training rooms in seacaster manor into for gorgug to artifice (state of the art, ofc), but also things like a special holster for drumsticks, pillows enchanted to maximize restful sleep, etc.

gorgug retaliates by making fabian Many Things. often accessories. several with tin flowers on them (he also makes the engagement and wedding rings, when it eventually comes to that. and it does. to me.)

fabian gets a little emotional whenever he's offered another flower

fabian is also big on terms of endearment and pet names but "darling" is very specifically never one of them. gorgug's favorite of the bunch is "flower"

gorgug loves watching fabian dance. fabian also loves watching gorgug artifice. there tends to be an admiring onlooker in their various workspaces

the hangman fully offered to throw itself into a ditch so gorgug would come fix it again if that would help fabian flirt w gorgug. fabian refused. the hangman kept asking and was only effectively stopped when reminded that gorgug owns the hangvan

speaking of the hangvan. good makeout spot.

idk i just think they're so in love and they match up so well i think about them always. fabian also goes to so many cig figs concerts with big ol glittery signs covered in hearts and gorgug is always flustered when he sees him in the crowd, much to fig's delight. when gorgug mentions wanting to write fabian a song she is immediately on board and insists he has to do it

fig needs to know details immediately and gorgug is. so bashful about giving them. meanwhile fabian WANTS to gush and riz is like ily im so happy for you i dont need to know all the details. this does eventually mean fig bugs fabian for details and fabian eagerly gives them

unlike his mother fabian knows loving someone with a human lifespan when you're going to live well beyond one means you have to treasure every single moment with them. so he does. and gorgug knows he will love him no matter what plane he's on, living or dead

i have more this is just. what i've got off the top of my head rn. thanks for letting me be completely insufferable

#d20 #thistlecaster #gorgug thistlespring #fabian seacaster #fabian aramais seacaster #fantasy high #fhjy

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alphabetboyluvr · 8 months

Text

THROTTLE - JJK | NINE

one/ two / three / four / five / six / seven / eight / nine / ten / eleven

warnings - plans are being set in motion!!! back to busan we go! references to drugs, shitty driving, the usual. no smut! a rarity! plot!! one of my fave metaphors / set of lines in the entire fic is in this one!!

word count - 11.4k

minors dni // series masterlist

"I've been thinking," you tell Hoseok a little after dusk. The sun sets later these days, mid-year sun never wanting to settle. A monsoon has been looming for a few days now, but the grey clouds sit defiant in the air. "You were right."

He looks at you, contemplation sinking into the creases of his frown, the crisp white shirt he's wearing unbuttoned to his mid chest. A pair of thin-framed glasses adorn his eyes as he skims over the notes of a casefile from work.

"What about?"

His voice is soft as he asks.

With your hair like this - top layer in a half-undone bun, the rest wisping around your shoulders - he's reminded of how you used to be.

There's a lot to be said for your relationship, or lack thereof, but once upon a time, you'd cared for another. Would dance in his parents' kitchen when they were out of town, you in one of his shirts, bare feet padding against the ondol heated floor.

You look younger with your hair like this. Like yourself, he thinks. Someone he used to know.

It's part of the reason, you think, that you're so awful to another. You grew up together. He's a part of your formation, and you a part of his. There's a reminder of the innocence that once was.

He knows how much you wanted to get out of the fold. Knows you wouldn't have come back without an ulterior motive. He isn't naive to this. Isn't naive to anything you do. Is well aware you've been doing things that no woman with a diamond on her ring finger should be doing.

But he's no saint, either. The ring was given to you with a purpose. Just like his dress shirts are dry cleaned with a purpose. Saves you from having to wash his secretary's lipstick out of them.

"I need something to fill my days," you say. "I think I'm going crazy cooped up here."

It's not a lie.

It's also not the full truth; not what's prompting this conversation, but that's neither here nor there.

Hoseok nods. Put his case file on the coffee table and turns his full attention to you. There's a softness to him now, one that he didn't have the last time you spoke.

He's not all bad, not by any stretch of the imagination. Is just caught up in a God-awful world. He's like you, in that regard.

Whatever freedoms once belonged to you have been traded for protection - not just from the men who lurk around dingy boxing clubs, but from your own family, too.

Hoseok's position within the police force gives you an added layer of armour. He's chainmail. He knows this. Knows you need him.

But he needs you, too. He's got a greasy pole to climb. Helps him out if you're throwing him towels from the Mayor's office. Will get him to the top a little quicker.

It's unsurprising that he had been the one to suggest picking your relationship back up where it had been left a few years prior.

He had painted the idea as a beautiful utopia; Daegu's darling children, reunited. A powerhouse. Unstoppable.

You didn't have a plan back then, not yet - but power seemed like a good place to start.

"You've been away for a while," he muses, well aware that it's not been an easy adjustment for you. "I... Look, you and I both know this isn't ideal. I know you wouldn't be here if you thought there was another option for you."

When you nod, he thinks you might cry.

The person you are isn't the person he once knew. You're so strong in some regards, far more powerful than he ever thought you would be and yet at times you can seem so docile. So timid. Weak. He doesn't understand it. Not really. Doesn't understand you.

Because if he did, he'd know there's nothing docile about you.

"I don't actually want to ruin your life," he says with a small smile that seems sincere. Might not be. You choose to believe it is.

"It's fine," you offer back an equally minuscule smile. "I do a good enough job of that all on my own."

He presses his lips together, and contemplative dimples etch themselves into his cheeks. "What are you thinking? Let's work together. Find a solution."

Men. So easy to wrap around your finger.

"I'm thinking of proposing a library initiative to get the city kids reading. You know how much my Father likes a good press release," you say. "I'm not too sure yet. I could volunteer at the library, start promoting for the education sector. Something like that. It will give me something to do, and gets me in a public role that is pretty much as safe for publicity as can be. If I'm working as a volunteer, there's no need for additional expenses."

As you recite your lines, you think of Jimin - and how good he is at putting words together to make them sound convincing. He and Jin are definitely the brains of Kang's boys. Namjoon and Jungkook the brawn.

Like clockwork, you're thinking about him again. Thinking about the way he didn't take his eyes off you for the entire meeting. Thinking about the way he didn't crack a single smile. Thinking about how he'd followed you out afterwards, just to ask if you were okay - and about how forlorn he'd looked when you told him that you're none of his concern, and that the only thing between the pair of you anymore is business.

And then he had smirked. Told you that business was the only thing that had ever been between the pair of you. Told you not to get it twisted. Told you not to flatter yourself, and reminded you that he was the one who had orchestrated your entire relationship.

"Whatever's between us -" He had almost snarled. "- Is what I made it to be."

You'd laughed. Stepped a little closer. Toyed with the key still around his neck, and said, "we both know that's not entirely true, don't we?"

He was silent. Could barely breathe, let alone think straight. Wasn't till you were a mile across the city that he seemed to remember how to function like a human being again. He knows one thing for certain: he absolutely cannot be around you. Not if he wants any shot at sanity.

And so when you walk into the boxing club the next day, Jungkook pauses.

He watches how you scan the room, but drops his gaze before your eyes are able to reach his. He doesn't care for making conversation with you. Knows that it will be a fruitless endeavour.

It feels like oceans bloat the distance between you, and he's never much been one for swimming. Loves the freefall of the dive; hates the dictation of the currents.

"Is Jin about?" You ask, an air of indifference to your tone.

Following the conversation with Hoseok, you'd been granted approval from the Mayoral office to start planning the campaign. You'll be working with the PR team, but it's your domain. They'll be there to hold your hand if you need it, but you'll be the guide.

You're just here to report back to Seokjin. Aren't here for small talk. Would rather swallow a razor blade, you think. Much more pleasant.

Still in his workout gear, Jungkook doesn't look at you. Just shakes his head, slams his locker door shut, and kicks the heavy metal side door of the club open.

"You shouldn't be here," he says as he exits. "Ain't safe for you."

And he's right. It's a terrible place for you to be. Not for the risk of Kang showing up, or you being spotted fraternising with the enemy, but because of the way Jungkook makes you feel like your heart might stop beating entirely.

Part of you thinks it would be preferable if it did.

The door slams behind him, and echoes into the lofty room. The chime is haunting. Almost sounds like the same one that used to be in your stomach.

You're looking at your feet, gearing yourself up to leave, when the door swings back open.

Jungkook is agitated. Chewing on his cheeks, thunder in his eyes; he's the monsoon that's been looming all week.

You wish he would just crash. Pour down. Bless you with the glory of what it feels like to be covered in his torrential rains.

But there's a ring on your finger, and a hole in his chest. His mouth is constantly dry in your presence, and he's all cried out. He's got nothing left to give.

You look so familiar. So much like home - but Jungkook lost the keys a long time ago, and the one around his neck won't work on any of the fucking locks. He's shut out. An intruder every time he tries to peep inside the windows. It's invasive, the way he looks at you.

Has you drawing the curtains shut.

"I wasn't kidding," he says, his rounded white teeth clamping on his bottom lip before he can speak his favourite letter out loud. Doesn't wanna call you the name he used to trace on your back in the dark of the night. "You don't what it's been like since... You don't know. It's not safe."

"It's never been safe," you sneer. "Why the fuck are you acting like you care now?"

You watch as his tongue presses against the inside of his cheek. He shakes his head. Looks to his feet.

There's something calming about it. You've seen his head hung low like this many times over.

It's never been due to your faults, but his, instead - his own disappointment, his own shame.

When his eyes fall back on you, dark and heavy, you're reminded of exactly who he is: danger.

So yeah, you're right. It's never been safe. Not with him around. Not safe for your life, not safe for your heart.

Never safe.

But he's always cared.

He wants to curse you out. Wants to say that you've no fucking idea how hard this has all been for him. Wants you to know that the only reason you're both still in this mess is because he cared. If he had never cared, then he never would have fucked it all up in the first place.

The words on the tip of his tongue are knocked back down his throat when a familiar rattle sounds in the parking lot. Thick and heavy, the gargle belongs to an exhaust pipe, and Jungkook has been around these parts for long enough to know exactly who it belongs to.

"Shit," he hisses. Doesn't answer your question. Holds the door open, instead. "Out."

When you stay put, he snarls.

"C, get the fuck out. It's Kang. You wanna fuck things up all over again? Wanna prolong the time we have to spend together?"

You start walking as soon as he finishes his final question.

"S'what I thought," he mutters when you walk past, and closes the door behind you both. "Go slowly. Don't turn the corner into the parking lot. Wait for me."

He clicks the lock shut; scrambles the code on the padlock. Keeps his eyes on you while you wait by the corner of the building. Appreciates that you listened to him for once in your life.

Old Man Kang only comes to the boxing club these days to check up on Jungkook - to make sure he's fighting fit. He's got a boxing match coming up. A big one. Puts him up against some boys from Busan. He knows they don't take well to 'traitors', which is what he's deemed as, now that he's fighting for a Daegu club.

Kang's banking on a heavy return should Jungkook win - but there's no 'should' about it. He has to win. If he doesn't, his debt to Kang - for the money lost on you - will only increase.

"You drive here?" Jungkook whispers as he comes to stand behind you, peeking over your shoulder to get a view of the parking lot. You choose not to inhale through your nose. Know that you might just die if he still smells the same.

He scans the cars, but can't spot the Merc you've been driving.

Of course he can't. Hoseok needed it for work. An out of town job.

"Got the bus," you say back, just as quietly.

"M'kay," Jungkook says gently. Goes to put a hand on your waist. Stops himself. Remembers things aren't how they used to be. "Take my key, get in the passengers side. Keep your head down. I'm gonna go back in for a minute, and make it look like I'm just leaving. They'll ask questions if they hear me drive off without seeing my face."

"I don't-"

"It's not up for debate. If they see you here, it fucks everything up. Just get in the damn car."

It's silent, save for the faint hum of traffic on the main road a few blocks away. Just you, and Jungkook, and the sound of the city. Neither of you really understand the way you feel. It's not quite sorrow. It's solemn. Sad - yet there's serenity, too. A saving grace for those who have fallen from it.

Jungkook decides that you're too stubborn, but also knows the one thing that always got you on side was a little desperation.

He gets closer. Puts his hand on the back of your neck. Wonders if you can feel the pulse in his thumb, and how it's beating a mile a minute. Squeezes ever so gently. Whispers, "Please, C."

The bus stop is two minutes up the road. You know that you could make it there - and be on the next bus going anywhere - by the time Jungkook has finished distracting Kang. You don't need him to save you. You don't need his protection. His kindness.

Yet you hold out your hand. Take his keys, and say, "Please be quick."

All he can do is nod, because truthfully, he'll do whatever he can to get himself beside you again.

"I'll be as quick as I can be. Promise."

It's funny. He's broken every single promise he's ever made you. Strange of him to think it holds any merit, now.

Doesn't stop you from holding out your pinky, mind you. Also doesn't stop him from linking his with yours. Pretty little promise, wrapped up with a pink bow. All perfect and pristine, satin against skin.

At least it's not red, you think. Not this time.

You hear Jungkook greet Kang - "Hi! Didn't see you there. Was just about to leave! What can I do for you?" - and decide that the coast is clear. Glancing around, you make a beeline for Jungkook's obnoxiously bright tin can of a car.

You hate it. Hate it in the same way that teenagers hate their hometowns. No matter how much you want to run from it, you know it will always be the place you go back to.

But of course you will.

It's home.

Some say it's where the heart is.

And considering you've been without one ever since Jungkook left your apartment all those months ago, perhaps it's not a bad place to start looking for it.

As you approach the bright, siren-red car in the parking lot, Jungkook's keys sit snug in the palm of your hand.

The satin lanyard strap is a little worn through - a freebie from a car show he'd attended a few years ago - but is just as soft as it always has been.

There's comfort to be found in it, like a blanket from childhood, or the warmth of a heavy duvet after a long day. It's a comfort you haven't felt in Hoseok's bedding, nor in the childhood bedroom you're able to visit again now that you're back on cordial terms with your family.

Jungkook had never smothered you. Not once. Not like a blanket nor a duvet could - and that's exactly why you kind of used to wish he would. You had craved the weight of his body; wanted your airwaves cut off by the very essence of everything he was. Deprivation had made you desperate.

Foolishly, it seems like not much has changed. Not much and everything all at once.

When you hook your fingers beneath the door handle, you can still feel the burn of his touch. In fact, your pinky finger almost feels numb. You hold it out a little, away from your other fingers. You want to preserve the feeling; lodge the sensation in your memories, embed it into your skin. Never wanna lose it, as if you have any choice in the matter.

Sinking into the passenger seat (alternatively known as the closest thing you've ever had to a second home) it's the scent of his leather that hits you first. A little oaky. Well-aged. Cared for. Restored by a pair of rough hands that hand touched you with just as much gentle cautiousness, once upon a time.

It's details like these; his discipline when it comes to making sure his car is looked after - preserved - that let you know just how meticulous Jungkook is. Nothing he ever does is purely up to chance. Luck isn't something that comes naturally to him. It's something he crafts.

Like Rumplestiltskin, he'd spun gold from straw in the form of your relationship. None of it was real. Not really.

A few tears brim on your lashline and threaten to fall - but you've never taken well to threats. You wipe them away. Won't let him know that being back in a place that once felt so much like safety is scaring you half to death, now.

It's a vow you've made to yourself: Jungkook will never know how he affects you. He won't see you cry. Will never know your skin is forever changed by his touch, numb to everything else but the tips of his fingers and the taste of his tongue against your own.

He'd lost the luxury of 'you' the very second he decided you were expendable.

Shifting in your seat, you're acutely aware of the little changes that have been made in your absence. There's a new air freshener, but it smells just the same. Some sort of pine. Gas station staple.

There's no hairband around his gear stick, like you know there used to be. No receipts from GS25 in the cupholders, no dirt from your shoes in the footwells, no bottles of soju left to roll around in the back.

His car is void of all essence of you.

The centre console - the old store for your snacks after late night shifts - is empty, save for a pair of silver-rimmed glasses.

They're large - clear lenses - and slightly more rounded than you'd expect of his taste, but the thick dark frame on top of them seems apt. You can't imagine him wearing them. Think it might be fatal. Decide you'd never like to find out.

When you flick down the sun visor to check yourself in the mirror, you almost miss it; the one relic of you.

Tucked in a small slip where his tax documents should be, is a photo strip. Taken in a beachside photobooth after a few too many drinks, you remember it well.

It's rough at the edges. Torn in half. Jungkook is gone, and yet you remain.

The removal of himself from his own memories is stark. Confusing. Distressing. Forces you to focus on yourself; the smile that you know was caused by him tickling at your ribs, and the tattooed hand on the side of your face in the second picture, that you know for a fact was pulling you in for a kiss, even if you can't see it.

In the photographs, your eyes are bright, despite the black-and-white filter (his pick). There's a stupid pastel purple frame around each one of the pictures, with miniature Kuromi's perched on the edges (your pick).

You wonder where the other half is. Decide you're better off not knowing, but don't have time to give it much thought though, for Jungkook's yanking at the drivers-side door, and asking for the keys before you even have a chance to flip the visor back up.

He looks at you - eyes jagged, jawline sharp - and lets his gaze fall to your hand, where the pictures sit pretty.

"That's still in here?" he sneers, as if it's a surprise; as if he doesn't look at it every time he stops by the river to breathe for a moment. Just like he didn't sit on the beach in Busan last month and set fire to the other half; watching himself disintegrate. "Keep it. I've got no use for it."

He holds his hand out for his keys, so you make sure to drop them just beyond his grasp and into his footwell. You know you're pressed for time, and that you really shouldn't be fucking about, but he's too much of an asshole, you decide.

"Real fuckin' mature," he grumbles, pulling on the lever beneath his chair to push it back so he can reach down for them. There's silence as his posture restores and he sinks his key into the ignition. A spark lights in his engine, the exhaust roaring into action. He knocks the gear stick into reverse, and holds onto the headrest of your seat as he looks over his shoulder. Swings the car around. "Head down."

You do as you're told.

It's mainly because you don't want to give him any more reason to snarl, but also because the quicker you do, the quicker you can just get the fuck out of his car.

It's claustrophobic now that he's sharing the space with you. You don't wanna breathe; don't wanna smell his aftershave. Don't wanna listen; don't wanna hear the way he mumbles to himself. Don't wanna look; don't wanna see his tattooed hand knock the gear stick into first, then straight up to third.

In fact, you'd quite like to stop existing altogether.

Jungkook used to say how much he enjoyed it. Enjoyed existing with you.

You hope it makes him feel fucking sick, now.

"Just drop me at the end of the road," you say. "I'll make my way from there."

"End of the-" he scoffs, not even finishing his repetition of the question. He coasts around the corner, foot on the clutch. You wonder if he's exercising a complete lack of control on purpose. Wonder if he's baiting you. "That private school education of yours really didn't give you any street smarts did it, huh?"

He definitely is baiting you. There's no doubt about it. He's petty motherfucker when he wants to be - and you can be just as bad. You just can't decide on how you want to respond.

Firing back would be the easy option. It's what he would expect. What he knows of you.

Staying silent looks meek, you think.

The final thing you consider is crying. Do you want to? Not really. You're more frustrated than you are sad. Thing is, he wouldn't expect it. Wouldn't know what to do. Would definitely make him freak out a little. Might even get him trying to make things better.

But you just can't bring yourself to do it.

Instead, you laugh. Look straight ahead. "Baby, these streets are mine. We both know I'm untouchable."

His hard stare on the road intensifies. You're approaching the bridge. Neither of you want to speak, both too aware of the impact that first night had on your lives; how it planted a seed that turned out to be nothing more than a venus fucking fly trap.

And yet Jungkook just can't help himself. He doesn't want to let you win.

It's pathetic, and he knows it. Knows that he's the one who fucked you over; that he's the one who did all of this. Knows that you've every right to be hurting, and every right to want him hurting, too.

But you're engaged, he fumes internally. Due to be married. Have committed your life to someone else, as if the time you had spent with Jungkook meant nothing. It's only been about four months since it all went to shit. He can barely look at the watermark he still hasn't cleaned off of his bathroom mirror.

Lies were fed to you between his kisses, but every single one of those was real. He meant it every time he pressed his lips against yours; every time he told you he needed you in his sheets eternally.

He makes assumptions like you used to do. Thinks about your fiance. Assumes it's love. Has to be.

It's clear to him now that the feelings you pretended to have for him were always a lie.

He doesn't understand why.

Sure, he knows why he lied to you. Knows that he filled your head with half-truths, and tiptoed around the facts of the situation, but he was always honest with how he felt. Never told you bullshit about wanting to keep you close. Meant every single word of it.

But you didn't. It's obvious to him that your lies went beyond your family tree. Nobody likes a liar - not even the boy who cried wolf, himself.

"Untouchable?" he smirks. It's cruel. Juvenile. "We both know that isn't true, don't we?"

"Haven't you heard, baby?" You simper, voice sweet a honey laced with rat poison. You hold up your hand, and wiggle your fingers. Light catches in the cut of your diamond. "I've got a ring. I'm untouchable in every sense of the word."

It stings. Almost like your diamond's encrusted on a dagger, and you've impaled it into his chest.

He doesn't look at you as he drives. Not like he used to. Doesn't throw you a single glance across the centre console, doesn't hold your knee nor your hand beneath his on the gear stick. Instead, his jaw remains taut, eyes ahead on an endless horizon that he hopes he never reaches. If he keeps driving forever, none of this has to end.

For a little while longer, he can pretend.

Pretend that things are as always as they were; that perhaps you've just had a small argument - over what to have for dinner or the way he'd rolled his eyes at a suggestion you had made - and that you'll crack a smile soon. He'll say something dumb, play your favourite song. Tell you he's sorry. Pull over, and refuse to drive until you hold his hand.

But your hand has a ring on it now. He'd feel it lodged beneath his fingers. Would be indented with the mark of commitment from another man.

And that's what makes him crack.

"Engaged," he laughs quietly, not an ounce of humour in his voice as he shakes his head. His eyes stay on the road. He can't look at you. Knows he wouldn't be able to look away.

You're silent for a moment. Consider not responding - but his tone bothers you.

"Uh-huh. We've established that - but you've no right to pass judgement."

Jungkook doesn't want to pass judgement. He wants to be vulgar.

Wants to remind you of the way you were taking his cock a matter of months ago. Wants to ask if your fiance hits the spot like he knows he used to. Wants to know if your body is still stained by the colour of his claim; rosy handprints on your ass, plum bruises on your chest left by his lips. Wants to know if it's his name that reverberates in your head when you bite onto pillows. Wants to know if your fiance even fucks you well enough to make you do that. He doubts it.

He doesn't want to know the answers to any of those, though.

"I'm not passing judgement, C," he says in perhaps the most judgemental tone you've veer heard, flicking his indicator to merge into the next lane. "What's the dress like? Can't be white, can it?"

Bastard.

"We're going traditional," you lie. It hasn't even been discussed yet. You also don't plan on sticking around long enough to see it through to the big day, but that's none of Jungkook's business. "Hanboks only. No modern dress."

Funny, Jungkook thinks. Had never pictured you as the traditional type. Then again, never pictured you walking down the aisle with anyone but him.

Truth be told, it's not like he's ready for any of that. He's not good with the future. Not anymore. Moves from one bad decision to the next. No point in planning ahead.

He disregards the flashing amber light over the pedestrian crossing, narrowly missing it as it changes to red. His foot is on the gas, and he doesn't seem to be easing. You adjust in your seat. Cross your legs. Hold onto the door handle.

"Slow down."

The way he ignores you is childish, and the way he speeds up is even more so.

"Jungkook-"

"Don't tell me how to drive my own damn car," he snaps.

"Then don't drive it like a fucking idiot!"

The tyres screech to a halt. You're almost certain you can smell burnt rubber.

Around you, the road is empty. You're just a few blocks over from the bridge, not far enough for the coast to be clear, and you both know it. There's silence. No static from his radio, no chatter of former lovers; just his engine, purring softly, echoing into the night.

Neon lights from the amalgamation of churches and noraebangs rain down on you through his windows, painting your skin in a red haze. The beam of his headlights on the road ahead is intrusive, decrepit buildings shown in all their miserable glory; paint peeling from the walls, rust forming beneath nails like tears on cheeks, railings covering windows to keep outdated electronics protected. You hate this area. Always have done. Can't believe you used to consider it home.

"Fine then," he snaps. "Get out. Walk yourself home. See what I care. Don't get hit."

He expects resistance. Expects you to defy him. It's what he wants. Wants you choosing to stay - but like fuck are you gonna let him speak to you like that.

It's so hard knowing what's false with Jungkook.

Some days, you think it was all ingenuine; that you've never seen the real him.

On others, you tell yourself that the version of Jungkook you'd first met on the bridge was a facade; that you'd worn him down. Seen within.

Most days, though, you believe the version of Jungkook you'd met on that very first night is exactly who he is.

Everything that followed? A carefully crafted performance for an audience of one.

And now it seems like he wants a standing ovation - and who are you to deny such a skilled actor his applause?

Yanking just hard enough to piss him off, you pop open your door and stand beside the car. Applause comes in form of his door slamming shut, and the click of your heels piercing the emptiness in the air as you walk up the sidewalk.

"Where are you going?" He shouts after you from his window - but you just hold your middle finger up in his direction and continue onwards. "C?"

You wouldn't tell him even if you knew. All you know is that you selfishly kind of hope he'll call after you again. He does. You smile to yourself, and ignore him.

Cursing to himself in the driver's seat of his car, he revs the engine back up.

There's a sinking feeling in your chest, but you're the one who put it there.

Only have yourself to blame.

You choose not to watch as his car hurtles past you. The sound is soul-destroying enough as it is.

Jungkook takes a moment to consider his choices. The obvious is to let you go - but he's done that once before, and has hated it ever since. He knows chasing after you will only end in him chasing his own tail, but he's been doing that ever since you left, as it is. What difference will it make? At least this way he can say he tried.

He pulls into a side road.

Derelict and dilapidated, it's no place for a car like his - but then again nowhere in this city is. He sticks out like a sore thumb. None of the other Pony's are polished quite so well, no have been lowered like his. None of them rag about in the dark of night, only for him to fix his faux pas in the light of day the following morning. He'll never let it rust. Never let it falter. Never let it down; and in turn, it won't let him down either.

It will always take him exactly where he needs to be - and right now, he thinks it's beside you.

Slamming his door shut far gentler than you had, Jungkook pushes the key into its lock and twists it shut. He doesn't want to use the electric locks today. Feels like the only way to do things right is to go analogue. Old school.

Wishes there was a way he could go back in time with you, too.

His feet splash in the shallow puddles as he trundles back down the alley on foot, pulling the hood of his jacket over his head. He's still in his workout gear - a pair of joggers and some beat-up trainers - but doesn't care for keeping up appearances.

He waits as you approach. You notice him immediately, but make no acknowledgement of his presence. Just keep on walking. Even when he begins to walk alongside you, not a single word is spoken. Cars pass by, passengers gazing out of their windows at the strange pair walking side by side yet miles apart.

You wonder if they make assumptions about you like you know would.

If you were to see yourself, you'd guess that you were angry. A couple in the midst of a fight but too far from home to go your separate ways, maybe. The way your arms are crossed definitely suggests ice to the relationship, but of what the relationship is, you don't think you'd be able to tell. Lovers? Friends? Enemies? All of the above?

You wonder if they'll make up a life for you both. Wonder if they'll resolve the argument they must think you're having. Consider that maybe in their mind, you get a happy ending.

Maybe your observers will be just as naive as you once were. A fool with a fragile heart who gave it to a man who didn't know his strength.

Or perhaps he did. Perhaps he just never cared if he were to break it.

Jeon Jungkook; a rebel with a cause, just without care.

Asshole, you think. Wind whips loose stands hair against your face, cold despite the heat of summer that has now arrived. A storm is coming this evening, but you don't plan on being around to see it.

It's a shame. You've been looking forward to it. Hoseok's away. Work retreat to Yeosu. Some sort of training programme. You had anticipated a night alone watching the raindrops sinking down his apartment window.

The idea of going 'home' right now doesn't appeal to you.

Though when you come to think about it, home is standing next to you as you wait at a zebra crossing, waiting on a green light.

When green lights up the sky, you continue forward. Take a left a left when you reach the hospital. Walk seemingly without direction and yet there's only one place this road leads to. Jungkook knows it well. Isn't really sure what you're doing. Thinks you're playing some kind of joke.

And yet he doesn't speak up. Just follows.

The sign of the KTX station lights up the walkway, the rattle of overground trains polluting the silence between you. There are only a few more services for the night, but it means that freight trains are gearing into action, and they're so much louder than the passenger trains.

As much as he might not know what you're doing, you don't know either. Haven't really thought any of this through.

All you know is you just don't want to stop walking with him.

You hate yourself for it. Hate how weak he makes you feel. Hate that he gets to be okay and just live his life after ruining yours. Maybe you're misplacing your blame. Know full well that you've made some bad decisions as of late. Would take them back if you could.

Jungkook is one of those bad decisions you wish you could undo. If only life came with a rewind button. Ctrl+Z. Reboot. Restore to factory settings.

And yet the idea of not knowing him - the sound of his laugh in the early hours of a Sunday morning, the feel of his cheeks a few days post-shave, the pressure of his lips on the crown of your head - fills you with dread. You may hate the memories, but you don't want to lose them, either.

You know Daegu's KTX station well. Hanger left as you enter, straight towards the self-service kiosks. Pick one that accepts card, then rest your palms on the pale blue plastic casing of the machine. There's a touchscreen full of choices - endless opportunities - but Daegu's KTX autofill route is the only one that you care for. The only one that feels right.

Busan.

You tap through to the next menu, ignoring Jungkook's presence beside you. You don't care what he does. Are only thinking about yourself.

Funny, really. He's only thinking about you.

Jungkook knocks your hand to the side to stop you from pressing through to the transaction screen. He reaches over a little further. Presses the small plus sign next to 'passengers'. Says nothing as it jumps from '1' to '2'.

You just watch as he clicks on through to the following screen, and slides his card into the slot that's flashing green at you. There's no conversation. No acknowledgement of what he's done; just acceptance.

The machine spits out the tickets into a metal tray, so you take yours and turn on your heel, leaving him to collect his own. He can follow you if he likes. You won't wait for him.

Realistically, it's not like you'll be apart for long. The assigned seats are side by side.

Of course, you could just leave. Buy a ticket elsewhere. Go home. Head down towards the subway and lose him in a sea of people.

The possibilities are endless.

Yet you find yourself checking the departure screen for train 071, instead.

The menu flickers through the upcoming departures, before finally falling back to the screen 071 is on. Platform two, departing in four minutes.

It's enough time to get to your track, but not enough time to run to your favourite coffee stand. You just sigh. Today is just disappointment after disappointment.

Jungkook walks straight past you. Makes no acknowledgement of you.

Just heads towards the exit for the tracks. Another sigh leaves your lips.

But you find yourself following him.

You're the one orbiting him, now.

And like the planets you're convinced rule your life, it doesn't feel like you can stop any time soon.

Your train is already on the platform by the time you make it down the stairs, quietly purring in its bay. Doing one final check of the platform, the conductor blows his whistle just as you're hopping on.

Heading down the aisle, you're displeased to see the train is only half full, knowing it means your assigned seats will be beside one another - and once you reach carriage four, you can see the top of his head poking out from the row you've been allocated.

It's interesting how he's taken the aisle seat, when his ticket is for the window. Still, questioning it means engaging in conversation, and you're still pretending like he doesn't exist - to the point where you don't ask him to move. You just step over him, and cringe at the way you know your ass brushes the top of his knees from the awkward positioning.

If he were in a better mood, he'd smile, aware of your annoyance and the fact you're probably cursing out your own ass in your head.

But Jungkook is in a foul fucking mood, and all he wants to do is hold your goddamn hand.

He knows can't.

So he won't.

He'll just sit, and stew, and lament the fact he's on a train to fucking Busan with you.

The jokes he knows he would have cracked six months ago are lost, now. There'll be no nonsensical conversations over who would die first in a zombie apocalypse, no dumb declarations from Jungkook about how he'd protect you no matter what.

Would have been a lie, anyway.

In the row ahead of you, a teenage couple share a pair of headphones.

Between the crack in the seats, you can see their heads leaning together, hairs melting into one another. The girl is peroxide blonde, but has dark roots growing through. It's a bit like Jungkook's hair used to be. Her (presumed) boyfriend has a streak of blonde peaking through his dark hair. She no doubt did it for him (again, you presume). The sight of it makes you feel sick.

Jungkook notices it too. Watches as the girl flicks through the boys playlist. Searches up a song he doesn't know, and presses play. When she locks the phone and puts it down on her boyfriends lap, she shuffles closer against him. Jungkook feels a little unwell, too.

The silence continues.

It's only 45 minutes to Busan. Not a long haul by any stretch of the imagination - and yet it feels endless this evening. When the train eventually rolls into his hometown, Jungkook thinks he's going crazy. Hates being alone with his brain. Hates that you hate being alone with him, too.

The hushed nature of your pairing prevails as you make your way onto the subway. Rammed full of late-night punters, you're forced to stand by the entryway. He stands behind you, and holds the bar that's over your head. Doesn't say sorry when the movements of the carriage cause him to lean against you slightly. He pulls away from you as quickly as he can, but you're surprised to find that you miss the weight of his body.

But of course you do. You've been missing it for months, now.

The subway trundles through underground tunnels, metal screeching every so often, more and more passengers departing - until it's just you and him. You take a seat, and so does he. You're opposite one another, eyes unashamed as you stare one another out. There's no trust. You're like cats, stalking their prey.

Or should that be you're like a cat. Jungkook is a lion. Could rip you to shreds if he wants. Has done it before. Your scars are barely healed. Can still feel him all over your skin. It's insidious. Makes you want to take a fucking potato peeler to your body, just to rid yourself of your memories.

The way he looks at you, all dark and brooding, like he's some kind of 90's heartthrob that never stood the test of time, makes your fingerprint-shaped scars burn.

You ride the subway until the very final stop; not because you wanted to, just because you were following his lead.

Stupid, really. He was following yours. Of course he was.

The static voice of the automated alert lets you know you've reached Dadaepo.

Jungkook knows it well. Was his favourite place to explore as a kid. A hidden rocky alcove just beyond the cliff walk was the site of many discoveries as a kid; sea glass, bugs he can't remember the names of, and - in his later years - the scent of marijuana.

The fact you're still giving one another the silent treatment is comically unbelievable. It's been upwards of two hours since his car door slammed shut back in Daegu. Even longer, actually. Closer to three hours.

There's something so childish about how petty you both are - but at least this way, you can't miscommunicate.

You just don't communicate at all, and you think you prefer it that way.

The waves roll in as you sit, staring at nothing. Side by side. Miles apart. It all becomes a bit much for Jungkook. He knows he shouldn't make a sound, but he thinks he likes it better when you fight. At least that way he gets to hear your voice, no matter how scathing it can be.

"The last train back is in half an hour," Jungkook says quietly, unsure of how much time has passed. Dadaepo is fifty minutes away from the station. You'll have missed it, and are fully aware of it.

So you just shrug.

"Not have a fiancé to get home to?" He questions, and almost manages not to sound bitter. Almost.

Again, you shrug.

Hoseok is away for the week - an all-expenses training retreat over in Yeosu.

When your Father had still been in the police force, before moving into local politics, he'd gone on the same training programme. It's a yearly excursion. Just an excuse to get shitfaced with his crew and a chance to slip his wedding ring into his wallet, knowing your mother would never find out.

She'd always know. She was the one who did his laundry, after all.

Unlike your mother, however, you won't spend the week in a foul mood because of it.

That's not to say you won't spend the week in a foul mood - it's just that the reason for your awful mood is currently sitting next to you looking over the East China Sea.

"You should stop concerning yourself with my life," you tell him, voice quiet - but he hears you crystal clear, regardless. He's listening out for only you. Fuck the waves, fuck the dog walkers, fuck the traffic and the coffee shop soundtrack blaring just a few feet behind the woodland. You're the only one he hears.

He considers saying nothing, but just can't help himself - so he scoffs, and says, "shall I stop breathing, too, while I'm at it?"

It's a stupid comparison to make. His life doesn't depend on you. You tell him so.

"You need to breathe to stay alive. You never needed me to stay alive."

Never needed me at all.

"I don't know, C. Kang was pretty pissed when we let you get away," he says as he purses his lips. It's a miracle his nose still looks the same as it always did - unless it just got broken so many times that it somehow snapped back into place.

Thing is, Jungkook's not really thinking about that. The pain subdued. After a few weeks, it was like it never happened.

But the ache in his chest remained. His one source of chronic pain, and you're the one who held the knife. Sure, he's the one who guided your hands. Pulled them into his chest. Inflicted it upon himself.

"Your coworker," Jungkook finally sighs. He's not even sure why he's asking. He doesn't want the answer. "Is it... The ring. Is it him?"

And while you want to hurt Jungkook as much as you possibly can without laying a single finger on him, you know you've done Yoongi enough damage. Makes you sick thinking about his tender face; the way it'd light up around you. You think of Jieun, and the time spent together in the shop and it's so consuming that you can't even think of an appropriate response to Jungkook.

"Yoongi," you correct, but Jungkook already knew his name. Just didn't wanna acknowledge him as more than a meagre colleague. "No. It's not Yoongi."

But just for a night? It had been Yoongi. Or was it two nights? Your head taunts you. You fucked Yoongi. Fucked his life up. Fucked it all. Whatever becomes of you is what you deserve.

Jungkook is unaware of this as he clamps his lips together to stop the smile that's begging to break through his hard exterior.

"You ever..." You begin to mumble, but then realise who you're talking to. You don't want to converse with him. "Nevermind."

He knows this. Doesn't care. "Have I ever what?"

There's a moment of silence; waves lapping against the shoreline in place of your words.

"You ever do something that just destroys you?"

Your words linger like the brief seconds waves will take to kiss the shoreline; white bubbles sinking into sand, murky water retracing its steps and dissolving into the currents.

"Destroys you?" he asks, not because he needs clarification, but because he can't possibly imagine what you've done.

You simply nod.

And so he takes a moment to think. Decides it's about time he gave you some honesty.

"Yeah," he says gently. Can see there's something you're grappling with. Doesn't want to intrude, though. "I've done things that have destroyed me, C. You know I have."

The silence resumes once more. It's louder now.

If you listen closely enough, you can hear that chime in your stomach again. It's faint. You ignore it.

Jungkook can hear it too. It rings and rings like tinnitus. He can't ignore it. He can pretend that he detests it, though.

Moonlight ripples on the surface of the water. It rolls into shore, then pulls away again. Gets just close enough to touch, but not far enough to soak your feet.

It runs away from you as soon as it gets close, and the irony isn't lost on Jungkook. He'd always thought you'd behaved like the moon and her tides, after all. Cyclic. Endless. Eternal.

It sort of feels apt that you'd end up back here.

Yeah, he thinks as he refuses to look in your direction. Too consumed with the way the vast expanse almost looks like a black hole. Just like the tides.

But waves can roll up on any beach, and the moon caresses every inch of the earth during her slumber. There's nothing unique about the pair of you. Nothing special.

Insignificance has always been a fear of his. A life that could be chalked up to birth, then death; records in a library system forgotten about for years upon years. His impact? Null.

He'd seen it with his mother - her vibrancy, her love for life, for others - and how she'd all but been forgotten. Sometimes, he feels like he's the only one who remembers her.

Even his father seems to forget why he's in such a sorry state. His brother has a new family, now. And what does Jungkook have?

No family. That disintegrated. Yeah, they're still around, but they're not present. Not there for him when he needs them.

No career. Sure, he can get work wherever electricity is, but he's under Kang's thumb, now. He trains, and he fights. Time for honest work is non-existent.

No love. He's never been the type to need a relationship, but he'd gotten a little foolish. Gotten used to the comfort of another human. Now that he knows what it feels like - how nice it can be - he feels half alive without it.

The Jungkook beside you is just the same as the Jungkook you first met.

He's a little stronger, a little broader. Is missing a few of his piercings, and wears his hair dark now instead of the blonde you had always adored.

He's exactly the same, and yet forever changed.

He digs his fingers into the sand beside his thighs. The grains slip through the hollow gaps between his knuckles. Even the things within his grasp always seems to get away from him.

He hates the silence. Hates that he never knows what to say anymore.

And thankfully for him, you hate it just as much.

"Fighting a lot, these days, aren't you?" You ask, not that you need any clarification. You saw a note in one of Hoseok's files earlier on in the week. Just a small scrawl about Kang's, and the illegal gambling ring he's running. JJK had been written down, with a set of odds next to his name. Pretty good odds. Baby is a champion. You'd be proud, if the circumstances weren't so harrowing.

"Not any more so than usual," he lies, shutting down the conversation as soon as you start it. He just can't help himself. It's like he's hard-wired to fight.

You turn to look in his direction and are momentarily caught by how ethereal he looks when basking in silver moonlight. The tip of his nose looks cold, and yet his eyes are warm. Watery. Welcoming you to dive right in.

Sink, or swim?

He's got a bruise on the top of his cheekbone, and a small graze just in front of his ear. It's clear to see that he's been through the wringer recently. There's really no point in lying to you.

"No?" You ask, just to let him know you're aware he's full of shit.

"What does it matter if I am?"

"It doesn't."

And so silence settles again. Neither of you know how to interact with one another anymore. It's awkward and uncomfortable, and you both hate it - and yet there's nowhere either of you would rather be. No one else you'd rather be in discomfort with.

Time gets away from you. It chases through the night, just like his car used to do down the backroads of Daegu, with you in the passenger seat and your hand beneath his on the gear stick.

You wonder if he ever thinks of it; if he ever thinks of you in the same way you think of him.

You don't ask him, because no matter what the answer will be, you'll convince yourself it's a lie.

Midnight creeps in, and so does the chill of night air. It may be summer, but the sea breeze can be biting at times.

Jungkook's fine - his workout gear is keeping the heat in well, but you're underdressed. Huddled up and clearly not enjoying yourself but refusing to voice discomfort, Jungkook is the one who forces you up. Says it's stupid to still be out by the water. Tells you that there will be loads of bugs about, soon.

You both know that the bugs have been out since dusk. Leaving now makes no difference.

Ignoring the hand he holds out as you get to your feet, you rid your legs of sand, and head towards the pathway through the small wooded area.

Neither of you have any idea what to do. The keys in Jungkook's pockets are rendered useless, his car still down in a back alley of Daegu, and the buses have stopped running. Subway, too.

You've no bag with you, just your phone (that's dangerously low on charge) and a card tucked into the back of the case.

Jungkook's phone is new. Holds it's charge well. He's not worried about it.

He's got his wallet, too, so at least he's a little bit more foreign-city-ready than you'd been upon your decision to run off to Busan. He's glad he came with you, now.

He figures he'll just stay at his Dad's place - but it means getting a taxi, and he really can't be fucked with an hour's drive this late at night.

He's unaware that the card in the back of your phone isn't yours. It's under Hoseok's name. He gets a notification every time it's used. It's why you're so selective about how you spend your money.

You've no ID with you, either. Left it in your purse back in Hoseok's apartment. Hadn't really expected to end up in Busan, in all honestly.

Especially not with Jungkook.

If you wanna check in to a hotel - which is the only option, really - you're gonna need your ID. Standard policy around these parts. No ID, no room.

You tell Jungkook this.

He sighs. Grates his jaw a little.

"And you didn't think that maybe it would be smart to take your ID out with you? What if you'd gotten in an accident, huh? No one would have known who to call, 'cause they wouldn't know who you are."

"I was hardly gonna get in an acci-"

"How do you know?" He cuts you off. "You can't plan these kinds of things, CC. Accidents just happen."

"Is that what this is, then?" You scoff, folding your arms over your chest as you walk a little further away from him up the sandy sidewalk. "Another calamity of yours? Just ended up here accidentally?"

Sometimes, he considers kissing you just to stop your from spouting off at him over nonsensical issues.

Jungkook thinks it's obvious he ended up in Busan for one reason, and one reason alone:

He'll follow you to the end of the earth, if it means he gets to be with you.

He's hardly gonna tell you that, though, is he?

"Ended up here cause I missed the beach-" And I missed you, too. "- but it's late," Jungkook says as you meander back up the sidewalk without much aim, and nods across the road to a beachfront hotel. "Let's just crash here and figure out how to get home in the morning?"

For reasons you can't understand, you find yourself agreeing. When you explain that you can't use your card, he shrugs. Says he'll cover it. Says he doesn't care.

It's a different story when you're in the hotel.

The presence of the concierge makes you feel unsure of yourself. Reminds you of how embarrassed you are by what Jungkook did to you; how foolish you had felt. You feel the need to defend yourself.

"Do you have any suites available?" You ask the concierge with a smile so sweet it could rot his inside. He thinks you're sweet. Thinks Jungkook should smile more. Knows he'd be smiling if he had you alone in a hotel room.

"All booked out, I'm afraid," the concierge says as he checks the screen in front of him. The glare reflects in his glasses, and you wonder how many times he's been caught out looking at things he shouldn't. Not just at work, but in general. He seems like a sweet kid - but a kid nonetheless.

"What's the most expensive room you have available, then?" You query instead.

Jungkook shakes his head. Looks at his feet. Tenses his jaw. Thinks you're fucking unbelievable.

You know he's got money problems. Know he's fending off sharks from his poor Father's back. Know that the only reason he fucked you over was to finally have a decent payday.

And yet you choose to do this? Knowing he won't kick up a fuss in public?

Spineless bitch. Spiteful.

But, oh, how you love to hit him where it hurts.

The concierge is none the wiser of Jungkook's discomfort. Tells you both that there's a deluxe sea-view room left.

"It's gone midnight, so I can give you a discounted rate," he says, and still quotes a price that would make even a black card owner raise an eyebrow.

Jungkook looks at you. Holds your gaze. Passes over his card. Waits till the concierge is retrieving your keys to hiss, "you're the most expensive mistake I've ever made."

You just smile. "Shouldn't live life with regrets. They give you wrinkles."

"And stress gives you grey hair," he counters, insinuating that you've got some growing through. The concierge returns to his position behind the desk, so Jungkook plays his role up. "You been stressed lately, baby?"

The concierge coughs. Holds out your key. "Seventh floor. Follow the corridor from the elevator right to the end, and you'll find room number one." Jungkook takes the key with a polite nod. "If you need anything else, the front desk is open twenty-four hours. I do hope you enjoy your stay."

The tension between you and Jungkook is palpable. The little routine you've cooked up in which neither of you speak unless it's to bait each other out continues. Doesn't end until you're in the room - and what a fucking room it is.

Crisp white sheets on a bed that is far too big; a bathtub in the corner of the room instead of the bathroom. Huge windows that let the midnight view of the ocean pour in, and chiffon curtains that will keep you hidden from the outside world. You won't close the blinds. Will want the morning sunlight to bathe you in its glory; make you feel like you belong to the days instead of the nights.

So much of your relationship with Jungkook was hidden in the shadows of Daegu nights, but it had been different in Busan. It's hard to pretend as if you don't miss it.

Hard, but not impossible.

You toss him a pillow and the stiff cotton throw from the end of the bed. "Here. The bathtub looks cosy. Sweet dreams."

"I'm not sleeping in the fucking bath," he laughs, but it's full of scorn. He finds no humour in this situation. "If I pay for a hotel room, I'm sleeping in the bed. Bath is all yours."

And yet you stay put.

When Jungkook turns off the main light? You stay put.

When he grasps the back of his sweater and pulls it over his head? You stay put.

When he says, 'No? Not fancy the bath?' as he tosses the pillow you had thrown at him back onto the empty side of the bed? You stay put.

When he walks around to that side? When he pushes the duvet back? When his weight dents the mattress? The scent of his aftershave intrudes on your senses? The sound of his bare skin nestling into the sheets is all you can hear? When he turns his back to you? Turns off the bedside lamp?

You stay fucking put.

And you know you shouldn't, and know that this is all kinds of wrong, but my god, it's all you've wanted for months: the past. All that's missing is your arm looped over his waist.

When he turns to face you? Looks at you, eyes all glassy, lips pursed? Tries to get a read on you?

You don't move a muscle. Just look at him right back. Wonder how he can still look so beautiful in such darkness. Wonder if his hair always spilt onto the pillow as it does now, and you'd just never realised when he was blonde.

And then you wonder if maybe someone else had been in this position with him during your absence.

It would be okay if they have. Wouldn't be their fault. Wouldn't be his, either. You're the one who left. Have a ring around your finger, now, no matter how loosely. Would be incredibly unfair to expect Jungkook to spend the last few months alone.

But the more you think about it, the more you get caught up in your own head, and how he'd kissed you beneath his shower, skin coated in red dye. Has you thinking about the way he'd always kiss you as he came, and the 'forever's he'd whispered in the dark of night.

So fucking cruel of him. He always knew that forever wasn't an option. There was no reason he had to pretend there was.

And maybe you're just tired, or maybe you've just been keeping it all bottled up for so long that the pressure had finally reached full capacity, but you just can't help yourself as you say, "why couldn't you just leave me alone?"

Your brows furrow. Lips pout. You know what's coming and you can't even be bothered to stop the tears. Maybe he should know how badly he affected you. Maybe it's the only way he'll understand. Maybe then he'll care.

For now, you can't bring yourself to think too hard. You just let the tears fall.

"C'mon, C," Jungkook whispers as his thumb strokes over your cheek. His hands are a little rough. He's been working on his car a lot lately, and hasn't taken time to look after himself, instead. It's self-sabotage. Thinks he doesn't deserve to feel good. Physically, mentally, whatever. "This isn't you."

Oh, it's laughable. Hilarious, you think, that he seems to think he knows who the fuck you are. You wanna scream. Wanna tell him that he knows fuck all. Tell him that you never let him see even an ounce of what makes you 'you'.

Denial is a strange thing. Has you lying to yourself like it's a bible oath. Jeon Jungkook knows exactly who you are. You just wish that he didn't.

"You've no idea who I am," you whisper back through partially gritted teeth, that are stopping your sobs from leaking through.

Jungkook purses his lips together. Shakes his head. Strokes away another tear. Is almost silent when manages to croak out, "I wish that were true."

And you might be wrong, but it sounds like he's holding back a tear or two, as well.

You reach over to toy with the key around his neck. It's warm in your fingers, the heat of his skin keeping it cosy. It's amazing how warm he always is, you think. Never met anyone like it. When your eyes flick up to his, ever so briefly, you notice that they seem warm, too. Just a byproduct of his body temperature, you decide.

"Why coke?" You whisper as you bring the key to your lips. Press it against them, just to feel the pressure of something that belongs to him.

He'd kiss you now, if you asked him to.

But you won't, so he doesn't.

He just shrugs instead.

"Why do we do anything of the things we do, C?" He pauses, but doesn't anticipate a response from you. Just continues, instead. "To feel alive? To feel closer to death? I don't know."

Lost one drug, he thinks to himself. It's just a replacement.

And it's funny, because aside from the lines he'd snorted on the first night you'd returned just to fucking cope with it all, he's not touched it. Thinks if he could just touch you, he'd never go near coke again.

You hold the key to his lips, now. Wait for him to press his lips against it. He does so, keeping his eyes locked on yours. Funny. Seems the key works on something, after all.

When you pull the key away, you let the chain hang slack, before dropping it to his chest. The ridges of the metal are sharp against his skin, but he's numb to it. Can only feel the print of your fingertips and the scars that are embedded into his skin from them.

"You should stop," you whisper, stroking down the bridge of his nose with the side of your index finger. His eyes close. Jaw tenses. He inhales. "It'll ruin this pretty nose of yours."

And then he smiles; eyes still closed, lip ring flipping in the corner of his mouth.

But the tepid movement of your finger doesn't stop. It reaches the tip of his nose. Trails down his septum. Encroaches on his cupid bow - and then it comes to rest on his lips.

Just like the key, he presses against it. Kisses the side of your finger. Keeps his eyes closed. Lets it linger.

He hears the change in your breathing. How you inhale a little sharper than before. How it sounds painful.

Doesn't wanna open his eyes. Doesn't want to look at you, knowing that you'll probably look so tragically hurt that it would be captivating, in a way. He'd wanna kiss it all better, but knows better than to attempt such a thing.

"I don't think I can, C," he eventually says. Opens his eyes. Is devastated by your beauty. "Don't think I'll ever be able to stop."

You both know he isn't talking about coke.

"Then it'll ruin you," you whisper, pretending as if you still are.

He just nods. "So let it."

#jungkook fanfiction #jungkook angst #jungkook smut #jungkook masterlist #jungkook fic #jungkook x reader #jungkook x you #jeon jungkook smut #bts fanfic #throttle #jungkook fluff #angst #smut #jungkook

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yourlazykitkat · 4 months

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sometimes I think about how azriel and eris say “I love you”. And I know, they’re more of a lets-fuck-to-emote couple, but in their quiet moments, how do assure each other that the love they share is real with its own heartbeat? Especially verbally. Then I think about how poetic mr “If I offer you the moon on a string, will you give me a kiss, too?” vanserra is and wonder, is that a lucien thing or a vanserra thing.

because then I think, eris does not say love- no, love is something used to hurt him, hurt his brothers (jesminda), his mother. he’s a courtier, a silver tongued fox with clipped claws which scratch but do not scar. thus eris turns to the metaphor, the euphemism for a heart robbed, the flooding blood and aching to fill its empty space.

he says, “my dear shadowsinger”. he says “the moon is beautiful tonight”. he says, “I saw an elderly fae couple and thought of you”. he says, “I do not mind the darkness, my flames are only brighter because of it”. he says, “the bed is cold without you. it is too big”. he says, “take off your armour. yes, i’ll keep it safe in the drawers. yes, I’ll learn the fastens and straps to help you put it on every morning”. he says, “my dance card only has one name. well, two because you’ve asked me to be kind to your family. yes, i’m picking nesta again.” he says, “I love the ocean. let’s go” he says “my dearest shadowsinger, i do not love you. I will not hurt you with such indignity, such injury-“

to which azriel says, “fuck you”. he says “I say ‘I love you’ because I’ve never been able to say so freely before”. he says, ��do I scare you with this heart of mine? So many others have turned me away.” he says, “do not turn away from me, I can’t take it”. he says, “do not turn away from me, let me see you.”. he says, “do I scare you eris vanserra? let me tell you how you scare me”. he says, “here is why I love you”. he says, “eris, I wish you a painless death”. he says “vanserra, i’ll be the one to kill you. teach me how to do it slowly.” he says, “I love you, I don’t know what to do with myself now that I’ve told you.” he begs, “eris vanserra, keep this our secret- how much I devastatingly love you. don’t let them know.”

“I think they know,” Eris will say and then, “let’s go to the ocean.”

#azris #azriel x eris #azriel shadowsinger #azriel acotar #eris vanserra #eris acotar #acotar #azris supremacy #it is 2am #I’m so sorry for my delusion #this is like me imagining them late in their relationship #they’ve done the falling in love part #the getting together #now comes the reassuring part #reminding each other they love each other #let them be sweet as they grow older #aging sweet like a gym sock #i’m just a delulu girl living in an azris world

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chlix · 7 months

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souvenirs

pairing: seungmin x reader

genre: fluff, light angst (???)

word count: 1.8k

warnings: vague references to depression (in a sense)

synopsis: It's getting harder to get through the day, lately. seungmin helps

a/n: the way this is borderline nonsense aksdjhlfajkd i've been exhausted from work lately and this is what i spit out,,,excuse the fact that my metaphors are all mixed together

You're sitting on the couch with your hand above your face, watching your rings glimmer in the afternoon light. Your head is reading on Seungmin's thigh as he reads a book he bought while he was in Paris, something about local birds and migratory patterns. He’s been trying to read more lately, says it’s important for self-improvement. You wonder what self-improvement could come from understanding the ecological niche of French swallows.

“It’s not about the information,” he says. “It’s about learning to parse meaning from text. It’s a brain exercise.”

You think your brain gets plenty exercise. You want to join him on his quest for media literacy, but your brain is too fried to process written language most days. Work takes everything out of you, and then you have to come home and worry about classes and the laundry and all the other things you’re responsible for each day, and it keeps you from being able to focus on any individual thing, in the end. Even now, you're meant to be relaxing, a rare afternoon off when neither you nor your boyfriend has anything important to do, but you can't relax. Your gut is tight, and your head feels stretched thin. In your mind's eye you can see your desk, your laptop, all the work and emails and papers piling up. It's hard to breathe if you think about it for too long.

The sun is so pretty on your gold rings. Seungmin bought them for you in Paris from a vendor’s stand on his way to the airport. They're not real gold; one of them is already tarnishing, and the gems inlaid in another are chipping, clearly fake and not at all real garnets. But he thought you’d much prefer to have the “authentic” experience of a tourist Paris, and wear something you would’ve gotten yourself had you gone.

"If I went to Paris, I would’ve asked you to send me your card details," you'd said after he gave them to you. "I wouldn't have settled for tacky fakes.”

“You don’t even wear jewelry,” Seungmin threw back at you. “You would’ve only put them on to post them to your Instagram story, and then you’d never wear them again.”

“I would wear them if they were from Paris.”

“And so from Paris they are.”

It’s become something of a running joke. Every time you post a picture of yourself, you make sure one of your hands is visible, and with it, the rings. Of course, for this to be possible, you end up wearing them almost every day. In the end, Seungmin is right that it doesn’t really matter that the rings are cheap fakes. They’re beautiful, and they complement your skin tone, and Seungmin had bought them for you, so you don’t really care they’re from a cheap street vendor. First and foremost, they’re from your boyfriend, a souvenir he’d carried thousands of miles back to you, like those birds he’s reading about crossing large bodies of water to find their families back home.

You take one off and hold it directly above your head, looking through the hole like a lens at the ceiling above you. You zero in on the sunlight dancing across the ceiling, getting caught in the brass rings on your curtains and bouncing around in delight.

"You're thinking so loud," Seungmin says.

"Well, stop eavesdropping," you reply.

"It's not eavesdropping if you're loud," Seungmin says. "What's wrong?"

What's always wrong, you want to ask, but you don't know if that's helpful or vindictive, so you don’t. Instead, you say,

"I've just got a lot on my mind."

"Penny for your thoughts?"

“They’re worth more than that,” you say, absent. You're still looking through your lens. You're waiting to see something appear on the other side. Like Coraline’s seeing stone, you think to yourself, ignoring everything outside the metallic ring. If I look through it I can see a new reality.

Seungmin reaches up and takes the ring out of your hand.

“Boyfriend discount,” he says, teasing. He turns the ring over in his fingers curiously.

“Is this the ring from Paris?”

You hum.

“It’s tarnishing.”

“It’s cheap. That’s what happens with cheap things. They break down.” You reach for it, but he holds it out of your reach.

“A shame. Now what will you have to remember Paris by?”

“I didn’t even go, moron,” you say. “I never do anything that fun.” You mean to be lighthearted, but your voice is bitter, hard.

“That’s not true. You do fun things all the time. You’re the interesting one, not me.”

You actually laugh. “Don’t be ridiculous.”

“It’s true. If I wasn’t in an idol group, I would never go anywhere. I would have gotten a boring office job and been a salaryman, and I never would’ve even met you.”

Maybe that would be for the best, you think, but you know better than to say it. You've both grown tired of conversations about not deserving each other; there’s no denying you guys are in this for life. You love Seungmin so much it’s embarrassing, so much that you go to all his shows and sound checks, so much that you buy newspapers with his face on them and stick them on your coffee table even though you never read a single page. You love him enough that you stay up late and call him at odd times at night when he’s off in Europe headlining a music festival, so much so that you wear tarnished rings from a stupid Parisian street vendor just because he bought them and you love him and you want to look at your hands every single day and think about how much he loves you. So much so that you fantasize about the day he’ll give you a ring that won’t tarnish, because it’ll be real gold, and it’ll sit prim and shiny untouched on your currently unadorned ring finger. It’s not about deserving. If it was about deserving, you’d never have it. But you will have it, someday.

It's not someday yet, though.

"However you used to be, or could be, I'm the boring one now. I'm tired all the time. I have nothing to talk about most days except my work. And the work never ends. I'm not even a housewife. I'm something worse." It’s toeing the line of how much self-deprecation Seungmin will allow, and sure enough, he fights back.

"You said you wanted to keep your jobs. You said you liked them."

"I do like my jobs. And I like having money. Very low bar for me, liking things that I need to survive.”

"Is there a lot going on lately?" Seungmin holds the ring out between his thumb and middle finger, surrendering it back to you. You slide your finger back through the hole easily, reunited with your prices possession once more. Crossing portals, becoming whole, something else metaphorical that would fix you, that would make this conversation easier.

"Like I said, just a lot on my mind."

You don’t know why this is so hard.

Seungmin has always been willing to hear you out, knowing you're not one to complain when you don't need to. But something about this situation is getting to you, this prison of your own making, of trying to do everything in your own. You don't let Seungmin support you and then complain about working. You say you want fulfillment through education and then cry about midterms. You move miles away from your family to earn your independence and then wax depressive about how you're not seeing your baby sister grow up. It must be tiring for him, not just as someone who’s made similar sacrifices for his idol career, but just as a person on earth who has to listen to you all day. You don't like to be whiny. You understand your choices, and you don't regret them. You regret very little of your life, and very little of yourself, even on your worst days, but that doesn't mean it doesn't suck.

"Thinking loud again,” Seungmin says.

"Does that mean the thoughts are worth more?" you ask, but there's no mirth in your voice.

"You can tell me anything, you know," he says, and you do know. Of course, you know.

"Take your own advice," you say. "It's like pulling teeth with you.'

"You shouldn't pick up my bad habits," Seungmin says. "You have plenty of your own."

He isn't saying it to be mean, it's just true. There are so many parts of yourself you prefer to ignore, this being one of them. Seungmin is all about self-improvement. Hence the book on swallows, and the afternoon off. Hence the way he's not demanding you tell him what's wrong and is instead letting you decide. He's working on being less impatient, more empathic. You're working on honesty. To be honest it's like pulling teeth for both of you.

Talking with Seungmin like this is doing...something. It isn't really making it easier to breathe, and it's not helping you ignore the piles of work you have left, but it does make it easier to remember that you two are a team in this. In being people. In suffering and paying rent and being maybe not so good with money, if he’s willing to waste it on street trinkets that will just tarnish within the year and you’re willing to encourage him by wearing them.

You're drowning in work, you both are, always, but then, the work isn't here with you, is it? Here it's Sunday afternoon, and it's golden hour, and you're on the couch with your boyfriend. And you still don't really want to tell him what the problem is, because you're afraid he'll laugh, even though he clearly won't. He would never laugh at you. He doesn't find most of what you do funny for him to start making jokes now.

"Buy me fried chicken and I might give you a thought or two," you say. "I'm bringing back the barter system.”

“Traditionalist," he says.

"True innovation is found in retrospection," you say. "I’ll make it a BOGO. Combining old with new.”

"Enough metaphors," he says. “What place do you want to order from?"

You pretend to be offended. "You don’t know my chicken order?"

"Now you're just inventing things. Coffee order, sure, even dessert order. But chicken order?”

"If you don't love me, just say that."

“This is why your thoughts are only worth a penny, just so you know."

You grin, looking up at him. You're not looking at his face through the ring, but it feels like you're seeing another world anyway, a universe where there's Just the two of you, a universe sustained only by your love.

Who cares about migrating birds, as long as Seungmin keeps flying home to you.

#skz x reader #stray kids x reader #seungmin x reader #seungmin fluff #skz imagines #skz x you #skz x y/n #seungmin imagines

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neet-elite · 12 days

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↳ EVENT 23. Elliott (Anal)

Pairing: Elliott / F!Reader Genre: Smut 18+ WC: 2,516 Warnings: anal, first time anal sex, sex toys, strap on, pegging Prompt(s): 19 — anal Event Masterlist: CLICK HERE!!

A/N: every time i write for elliott i feel as though im learning the dictionary all over again lmao. i like to try and use language i feel is fitting for the character im writing for, though... so i hope this translates well! even if it's a little outside of my usual writing style (yknow?). anyway. love ruining put together men thank you <3

A nauseating ball of anxiety twists tight in his tummy, wound up in his core to feign sickness, or panic. It's a feeling he's used to, given how often his mind runs wild with worrisome faux scenarios, a cascade of tormenting scenes that play out in his cluttered mind day in, day out. He'd never describe himself as a worrywart, but he knows others might... Do, in fact, view him as some sort of flighty man, an anxiety riddled creature who'd jump ship if given the opportunity. Certainly, that's not how he'd identify himself, and the thought alone only serves to turn his tummy some more.

Rather, a man of eloquence suits him better, don't you think? Of words aplenty, flowery, perhaps. But nonetheless genuine. Honest in his approach to life, enjoying the various little things that litter his day to day, taking great pleasure in the simple fancies because even those are worth his utmost attention. See, he doesn't worry out of a unease, but rather, he worries because he's concerned with giving all of his care and attention to so many things. Remaining sincere in his appreciate of all he comes across, simply because that's the kind of man he is.

Which is why it's difficult for him to swallow the disgusting truth that he wishes only for the opposite as you nestle yourself quite prettily between his thighs, leaving him heaving for air on his back before anything has even truly happened. And just like how he wants to lie to your face right now, that lump of nerves in his tummy one might so easily mistake for stress, or panic, is instead borne out of sheer appreciation. A greedy lustful itch he's yet to satisfy, a metaphorical wrecking ball to his otherwise well kept and put together outward appearance. Him? A filthy pervert? Horribly so. In fact, much more than you might initially think. Much like how the townsfolk take him for a fretting fusspot, he'd ideally like to keep up the gentlemanly facade you've grown so accustomed to over the many months of getting to know him, you need not know how he truly is, even if it goes against his natural order.

Although, you know him better than most, don't you? Easily recognisable in the way your nails dance so nicely down his open thighs, the pretty understanding smirk you adopt when his cock twitches in response. Laid bare before you and yet still he attempts to deceive— all in vain, of course. The weight of your body on the bed with him causes his ass to dip down, cock sprung forward as if begging for your utmost attention. Which wouldn't be a lie, chewing on his bottom lip out of frustration for how honest his body is when it comes to you. But he hopes you'll provide him enough space to mislead, just a little. At least until his heart calms down, until his tummy stops filling with butterflies at the doe eyed stare you so graciously offer him. From below, it's easy for him to confuse you for an angel.

If not for the silicone cock adorning your heavenly waist.

Which is only half a lie, he realises, given that he still thinks you look as innocent as ever despite the offending object. And besides, who's to say that angels can't be a little naughty every now and again? His heart full of love at the gentle caress of your hand, how it trails so delicately up and down his exposed thighs, from knee to almost his cock; oh, you're so good at teasing him. A bead of precum dripping from his eager cock at the slight touch— you'll be the death of him one day, he's sure of it.

"It's okay if you aren't ready, love." Your voice calls to him, silky smooth and full of concern, the kind that just gets to him, makes his cock feel all funny with how hard it gets when recognising your sincere affections for him. He's said it before, and he'll probably say it again, but just knowing that you love him is the greatest turn on in the world. To be loved is inherently provocative, don't you think? To expose himself physically is one thing, but to do so emotionally is another; the vulnerability of showing you even the more lewd parts of his existence is a little more overwhelming than it is to undress before you.

Which is why he's refraining, for now.

"No, it's— It's not that..." He trails off half-heartedly, nose wrinkling for a second in distaste for his inability to voice his concerns in a thoughtful manner. It's not because he doesn't trust you— in fact, he thinks you'd respond well to his obscene obsession. He's just not completely sure how to reconcile that fact with himself.

He's already gotten this far, right? Hinted at the salacious act of pegging once or twice; mostly when he was drunk on wine, mind you. Though he doesn't blame you for taking advantage of his loose lips, knowing deep down that despite the current twist in his tummy, he'd do the exact same to you if the roles were reversed.

Can he really just out himself as a dirty pervert to you, though? Even in the privacy of the shared four bedroom walls, can he spill his untamed thirst for you? The ever present greed to swallow you whole, the need to be swallowed whole by you. A self serving must, a right, to own and be owned. A difficult thing to resign to, selfish ownership. Distracting himself by dropping his gaze down your body idly, from your pretty smiling face, sucking air in quickly through his taut jaw at the sight of your tits, throat drying up the second he spots how perky your nipples have become before him. And further, narrowing in on your tummy; do you feel the same way as he does? A sickly compulsion, where he is fixated on being ruined, are you just as similarly focused on ruining? And further still, his gaze lands on the toy you wear. Shiny under the dim cabin lighting, but nonetheless demanding his attention. Promising by your hips to soothe all of his aches and pains, if only he'd indulge you a little further. Spill the truth of his erotic desires, show himself for the man he really is:

A good for nothing, cock leaking at the mere thought, balls heavy with seed just for you, foul little pervert.

And given that you're currently wearing something so dirty, clad in nothing by the strap on picked exclusively for him, he figures you must be his soulmate. A match made in filthy heaven, don't you think?

So he sighs, heavy yet stunted. Cut off by a brief cough to clear his throat and mind before revealing his true self to you. Better to rush it out than to let it stew and risk proving the town right, he thinks. He's not a worrier, he just wants to give you all the care and attention you deserve.

"Truth be told, love... I'm, I'm quite excited, actually," Light laughter escapes him at his words, matched perfectly by a twitch in his cock when you nod knowingly back at him. Of course, though he may have tried to hide his true nature, you've known all along, haven't you? "Perhaps a bit too much, I think. The sight alone of you sitting there is enough, truly," He elaborates, bringing a hand up to cup at your cheek softly to show his tender affection. "But I'm afraid I won't be able to control my desire, is all."

And the gentle giggle you let out in response, tumbling from your lips so sweetly, your voice a dulcet tone to lull him into doing whatever you so much as ask him to— the hold you have on him errs on the side of ridiculousness, the kind of love he only ever writes about in his plentiful stories. His one and only muse, bending down over him to leave him gasping at the contact the strap on inevitably makes with his prepped asshole. There couldn't be a better time to experience his first, right?

"To be honest, Elly," You start, mimicking his action by cupping his cheeks, squishing them together to lightly peck at his lips in between loving giggles. He's so in love with you it makes his cock harder, throbbing under your barely there touch as your body hovers above his own, his hips squirming against the cool silicone prodding at his asshole in excitement. It's shameful to admit, but to feel so small and weak under your endless bouts of adoration is thrilling. Pleasure rolling down his spine when you take to kissing him a little slower, more tender with your lips on his that he can't help but to instinctively open up for you.

Only for you to leave him high and dry, an uncharacteristic whine escaping him at the loss of love. Instead, he bares witness to your dainty— as compared to him— hands locking onto his hips, angling the dildo just right against his ass to force his brows to knit together in enjoyment, the lopsided grin you offer him promising more than he cares to imagine right now. Focused solely on how it feels to have you rim the outside with the faux tip, his eyes squeezing shut in preparation for what is to inevitably come next. "I'd rather you were unable to control yourself." You finish up you previous sentence, taking the opportunity of his confused state to gently, so gently, push the tip of your cock inside of him, rocking ever so slowly until the tip is fully engulfed and he feels like he just learnt how to breathe again.

Briefly, he muses to himself how he thinks he ought to be a little scared right now. Worried over the new experience, anxious about all of the new sensations he's currently, and will, experience. But to see you beaming down at him so innocently, the look of pure love on your face as you continue to roll your hips into his expertly lubed up hole, enjoyment present in the way your nails dig into his waist for purchase; he's not scared because it's you.

And to have you between his legs, fucking your cock into him with so much careful focus, checking in with him with hooded eyes and mouthed i love you's, is more than he could ever hope for. Your mere existence stabilizing him enough to let him throw his head back in enjoyment, doing his best to concentrate on the feeling of your weighty cock inside, moving with you as you rock against him until he reaches the hilt and his cock pulses with barely contained need.

He's ashamed because of how much he wants more. Brows furrowed, pouting back at you with an unknown emotion clinging to his chest. He's not even sure of what he's saying until he says it, the tone of his voice unusually strained and breathy.

"Faster, please."

Unable to keep up with his perversion, by the time he's aware of what he's just asked for his cheeks are already heating up, long hair tousled by your unbridled want to keep him happy; which in turn on turns him on more— God, he's never been harder before in his life. Something about the sheer vulnerability of his position right now, probably, allowing you to take his first time so thoughtfully; he needs more. Cock just aching for you as you explore his insides, the pressure your cock offers him is exquisite, something he can't quite describe with his current vocabulary but nonetheless good. Something he wants to continue, unknowingly rocking his hips with you in a seeking of more, incapable of shutting up for even just a second to hear your divine sighs and moans through his own tumbled and broken sobs. Various grunts and gasps escaping him with every hefty thrust from your cock, stretching him open in ways he's never experienced before but God he wants to experience it again and again. Hand automatically coming to the base of his cock to squeeze at, a pout upon his lips to communicate thank you, thank you, thank you.

For making him feel so good, for trusting him enough to help discover this previously unknown side to him, for fucking him so full that his cock throbs with every thrust, for allowing him to stroke his fat cock just to the feeling of you fucking into him, for smiling down at him so sweetly like that, ruining his concentration in the loveliest of ways by distracting him with such a cute face. And you sound even better too, all light and breathy, unable to keep up with how fast you fuck him; serves you right, he inwardly muses to himself. You've left him so breathless, mouth left agape every time you fuck your cock fully inside, pushing against some deep part of him that has him folding in on himself; so you can choke a little too, can't you?

As a treat, he thinks. A reward for matching his depravity. Fisting his cock in tandem with your thrusts; which, given how unfairly swiftly you rock into him, is no surprise that thumbing at his slit a few times prompts him into warning you of his approaching end. Begging for you to continue fucking him to help him reach his high, throwing his head back as much as he arches his back, chest pressing into you to help you fuck him down your fake cock.

It just feels too good. Mind numb and body tingling with desire, pooling in his tummy like earlier. Of course, he knows his fist very well, stimulating his cock deftly while you stutter your hips into him. But there's enjoyment to be hand in how endearing your efforts are in fucking him properly, his legs locking behind your back so that your forced to be flush against him, allowing you only to desperately rock against that hidden sweet spot of his.

And it only takes a few humps for him to come undone. Spilling hot seed right into the palm of his hand while you're buried as deep as possible in his tight ass, the feeling of his hole squeezing and contracting around the firm toy leaving him gasping for air as he bucks against it. Fat load shot against his tummy, some of it reaching his chest from how hard he cums while warming your cock. And immediately, he knows that you've ruined him. Spoiled him, even. Resigning, even, as he grows soft in his too tight grip, wincing at the sticky feeling covering his whole front, catching sight of your lovesick smile shot from above, that he can feel the itch resetting in his tummy already. Perverted, right?

It seems he's more than a little addicted now. And he puts all his trust in you to help scratch him just right.

#500 event!#sdv smut #stardew valley smut #sdv elliott smut #stardew valley elliott smut

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theyhavetakenovermylife · 6 months

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Clog! (Crack)

Bayverse!Turtles x reader (Platonic)

In which the turtles and you want to show Leo how much time he actually spends meditating and training in one day, so you put together a performance.

Song: Oct! - Don’t Touch My Clogs.

Warnings: Strange music from a banger song, spelling because tired.

—------------------------------------------------

You guys had told him, and you had done so several times, but he still wouldn’t listen. Leonardo spent too much time training. When Master Splinter had told him it was becoming a little too excessive. But Leo wouldn’t listen. He would just brush your comments off before heading back into the dojo. And after one day where he skipped all meals except breakfast, and didn’t come out before the rest of you guys were about to go to sleep, you had decided it was enough. It was time to go into extremes, and show Leo exactly how much time he was spending in the dojo. So the next day, after Leo had finished breakfast and gone into the dojo, you, Raphael, Donatello and Michelangelo started practicing. If you guys could put on a five star performance in one day, he was definitely spending too much time in there.

After several hours, Leo finally came out of the dojo. He was sweating more than he had ever done before, and his limbs were aching. But all that was forgotten when he saw Michelangelo, standing in the middle of the lair on the raised circle with his arms crossed and sunglasses on.

Before Leo could ask what was going, music started playing, jolting Leo in shock, as Mikey started moving his shoulders and lip syncing to the song playing.

“Years before I was born, father told this to me / It was one Christmas morning in '73 / There was one lonely gift nestled under the tree / My grandfather said, Don't touch my-".

Leo stared in confusion as Mikey gradually got into the music, pointing in Leo’s direction with a sense of urgency.

“He said, Boy, listen close, I am saying this once / These were worn by my parents and their parent's parents / Now they're yours, but be sure to guard them with your life. / He said, Don't ever let them touch my clogs!"

Just as Leo was about to ask Mikey what he was doing, the chorus started up, causing Donnie to jump out of nowhere and making Leo jump in surprise once more. Leo blinked as he saw his two youngest brothers dance out a well choreographed dance on the raised circle, while both wearing sunglasses.

“You can take my cash, you can burn my house! / You could force feed trash / I'd let you kick my balls whilе I chewed on glass / Beforе I even thought about letting someone touch my clogs!”

Leo shook his head in surprise at the lyrics.

“You'll have to take my life, you'll have to steal my dog! / Have to beat my wife / You'll have to kill my mom with a rusty knife / You'll have to break my legs before I ever let you touch my clogs!”

Both Donnie and Mikey started circling while staring directly at Leo, causing his metaphorical hair to stand.

“Don't touch my / C-L-O-G-S / They're my clogs! / Whoa, oh!”

As the second verse began, Raphael jumped up on the circle, causing both Donnie and Mikey to crouch and look at him like he was a god. Leo was actually quite surprised to see Raph was in on this.

“Father said: You're my son, so I'll tell you the truth / I wore clogs without socks for the bulk of my youth / Now these clogs, they are yours, protect them with your life / I pray you never let them touch your clogs!"

And just as Leo thought it couldn’t get any stranger, you jumped in from out of nowhere, taking up the second chorus with animated arm movements, all while his brothers circled you.

“You can slap my wrist, I'd let you shave my head! / Let you wax my pits / I'd even butt-chug bleach while you twist my nips / And after all of that I still wouldn't let you touch my clogs!”

Raph lifted you up on his shoulder, while Mikey and Donnie continued to circle the two of you with their arms up in the air, continuing a more advanced version of their choreography.

“You can eat my lunch and you can knock me out / With a 1-inch punch / And make me drink your sweat from a dirty sponge / You'd have to shoot me dead before I ever let you touch my clogs”.

Raph threw you up into the air, and started an air choreography that Leo was pretty sure took a long time to put together. Everything started picking up speed, and Leo was surprised to see how well it actually was going.

“Is my purpose in life to keep them safe until my child is at least 25 / Then I will pass the clogs to them and they'll wear them with pride / And every single day from then, they'll make sure no one has touched their clogs! / They're the one thing I love, the only thing that makes me sure there's a god up above / Those wooden clogs on my feet, and they fit like a glove / And I would give up everything 'fore I ever let you touch my-”.

Raph slowly placed you back down on the ground.

“Clogs / C-L-O-G-S”.

All of you moved your attention towards the door into Splinter’s room. Leo was more than just a little surprised to see his Sensei come out with a pair of clogs held high in his hands, ever so slowly moving towards the rest of you, who were acting as if he was carrying Jesus as a child.

“Now I lay me down to sleep / I pray the Lord my clogs to keep / If I should die before I wake / I pray the Lord my clogs to die”.

Splinter now stood in the middle of the raised circle, holding the clogs high above his head, while the rest of you were circling him in the ground beneath him, continuing your complicated choreography that only continued to surprise Leo.

“You can take my cash / You could force feed trash / I'd let you kick my balls while I chewed on glass / Before I even thought about letting someone touch my clogs”.

They took turns spinning you and holding you high up in the air, all while Splinter continued to hold the clogs high in the air.

“You'll have to take my life, you'll have to steal my dog / Have to beat my wife / You'll have to kill my mom with a rusty knife / You'll have to break my legs before I ever let you touch my-”.

It ended with all of you posing in various ways, all with your attention directed towards the clogs in Master Splinter’s hands.

Leo honestly didn’t knew if he should clap or run and hide in his room. But one thing was sure, he wouldn’t stay in the dojo for half as long as he had done before.

—-------------------------------------------

A/N: This is so bad, but I’ve had this idea stuck in my head for days. I just needed it out of my system.

#tmnt #teenage mutant ninja turtles #tmnt donatello #tmnt leonardo #tmnt michelangelo #tmnt raphael #tmnt x y/n #tmnt x reader #tmnt x you #bayverse leo #bayverse raph #tmnt bayverse x reader #tmnt bayverse #bayverse raphael #bayverse turtles #tmnt crack #tmnt crack headcanon

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red-moon-at-night · 11 months

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Let's talk a little bit about Mahiru's boyfriend

This post is alternatively titled "Mahiru's Boyfriend Probably Had An Eating Disorder And I Am Very Sad About It So Now You Get To Be Sad About It With Me" but that felt a bit much in the bold title font so I'm trying to tone this down at least a little bit :')

So I was reading this wonderful post earlier (you should too btw it has a LOT of interesting information), and as I was going through the food section something clicked in my brain. Pieces of information that were drifting aimlessly before quickly came together for me and I almost wish they hadn’t because oh boy is it depressing.

Now, nothing I’m about to say here is explicitly stated - but I do think it is strongly insinuated, through the MVs of both ‘This Is How To Be In Love With You’ (TIHTBILWY what an acronym wow) and ‘I Love You’. I am aware that the latter video has a lot of metaphorical imagery, but I still think some of this imagery can be taken in a literal sense to reinforce ideas established in TIHTBILWY.

TW/Trigger Warnings: discussion of eating disorders (anorexia, bulimia, etc.), discussion of suicide and suicidal thoughts. Please take these into consideration and stay safe!

credit to iaobug’s transcribed images from ‘This Is How To Be In Love With You’ used below btw!

Now I’ve always had an inkling this could be possible, but I didn’t realise until recently there was this much evidence supporting a little idea of mine dancing around in my head.

But First, Some Quick Definitions and Criteria

First things first, I think we should briefly clarify what an eating disorder is and what eating disorder I think Mahiru’s boyfriend most likely had.

Here are some definitions:

Eating disorders are behavioral conditions characterized by severe and persistent disturbance in eating behaviors and associated distressing thoughts and emotions. They can be very serious conditions affecting physical, psychological and social function. (source)

An eating disorder is a mental health condition where you use the control of food to cope with feelings and other situations. (source)

And here are some brief introductions to several types of eating disorders:

The most common eating disorders are:

anorexia nervosa – trying to control your weight by not eating enough food, exercising too much, or doing both bulimia – losing control over how much you eat and then taking drastic action to not put on weight binge eating disorder (BED) – eating large portions of food until you feel uncomfortably full

Other specified feeding or eating disorder (OSFED) – A person may have an OSFED if their symptoms do not exactly fit the expected symptoms for any specific eating disorders.

(source)

Okay, so we have some basic information down, cool! This is not fully comprehensive but it will do for the purposes of this segment.

So what eating disorder do I believe Mahiru’s boyfriend had?

I’m not sure! The information we have is not conclusive enough for me to confidently pick an option. What I will say is most likely, and most common, is OSFED and the concept of the eating disorder cycle. People’s symptoms will often overlap with multiple diagnoses, or shift from one mode of behaviour (e.g. the restrictive eating behaviours found in anorexia) to another (e.g. binge eating and following compensatory behaviours found in bulimia).

Things are often not as clear-cut or black and white as we’d like to imagine.

Let’s move onto looking at the MVs, shall we?

This first music video has a wealth of information hidden in its cute magazine-style annotations and imagery - information that, when you look a little closer and consider the bigger picture, raises all the alarm bells in my mind.

Parts of ‘This Is How To Be In Love With You’ That Make Me Pause In Concern, In Chronological Order:

The Bread

Let's start off with a not very obvious one.

One of the first things we learn about Mahiru’s soon-to-be-boyfriend (which by the way this is literally the 2nd time he’s mentioned) is ‘wow he buys a lot of bread’. Insignificant on its own, I know, but consider this through my lens if you will: my man has bought 5 whole baguettes from a bakery. Not 2 or 3, but 5. Actually, on closer inspection there's even more bread of a different type at the bottom of that bag too. These aren’t store-bought, they’re fresh and will probably go stale in a few days. Pray tell, if the man is not eating baguette for breakfast lunch and dinner over the course of 72 hours... why did he buy so much fucking bread?

What comes to mind when I see this is binge eating. Bread is one of the most common binge foods out there; anything with high carbohydrates or high fat content, in fact, often due to its “unhealthy” or “forbidden” nature.

We'll just have a quick look at Mahiru's comment again:

"I thought to buy the same bread he did, but this is far too much for me to eat... ><

I forgot to ask how many calories there are..."

If it hasn't been established by now with the MV's aesthetic, Mahiru cares about her appearance. A lot. Her self-image and beauty directly ties into looking 'good' enough for others, so she can find the love of her life and please him with her looks.

If Mahiru is also calorie counting, this does not bode well for their relationship. I should probably speak in past tense, actually... Mahiru's own self-image behaviours made her blind to her boyfriend's self-image behaviours. There we go.

But I'm getting ahead of myself here.

So, We have an indication of binge eating behaviours. Remind me again what comes after binging?

The Jogging Hobby

Oh, that’s right - purging.

Excessive exercise is an indirect method of purging/compensatory behaviour found in bulimia. A more commonly known purging method is self-induced vomiting, but that's certainly not the only way to counteract excess calories.

So the jogging, while harmless in isolation, is starting to paint an ever-so-slightly worrying picture.

Again, let's take a look at Mahiru's comment:

"I had a chance to chat with him today, and he mentioned his hobby was jogging. ... I haven't exercised this much in ages... I'm totally exhausted..."

The only hobby (not hobbies but hobby, singular) that we learn the boyfriend has is this. Sure, there's one movie that he also likes... but that's it. There's not much else to him! So when the two most prevalent ideas attached to this guy are 'food' (in excess) and 'exercise' (in excess)... you can see where I'm going with this.

And by the way, the post I linked at the very beginning? Well, they worked out the location of where this running loop is, and judging by Mahiru’s position and direction it would suggest she’s already jogged about 5km and beginning another loop. So we’re looking at a jog ranging from 5-10km (or more)...

The Alcohol

Okay, here's a quick pop quiz question for you. Who is more likely to get drunk on the same volume of alcohol: a 5"1 woman, or an average height (5"7 in Japan) man?

In theory, it should be the 5"7 man on the basis of his height and size. Alcohol tolerance goes up the bigger you are.

So why is it that the boyfriend ended up blackout drunk, and Mahiru... didn't?

Let’s take a look at the comment:

“My first date at a bar, how heartpounding!

Here is where I learned he’s the biggest lightweight I’ve ever met! ...or maybe I’m just really good at holding alcohol?

Whatever the case, blackout drunk him is so cute!”

Three possible options:

Mahiru really can 'hold her liquor'. Judging by her sheltered home life and general lack of adult life experience though, I'm gonna press x to doubt here sorry mappi.

The boyfriend drunk more alcohol than Mahiru. Also unlikely, as she calls him a 'lightweight' and I think she would've highlighted this in her comment.

He drank on an empty stomach. Alcohol absorbs way faster if you haven't had anything to eat beforehand. This, I think is the most likely scenario.

Here's a little more on the subject that I found interesting:

You absorb 20 per cent of alcohol into your bloodstream through your stomach and the rest into your bloodstream through your small intestine.

Drinking a small amount of alcohol stimulates your appetite because it increases the flow of stomach juices. A large amount of alcohol dulls your appetite and can cause malnutrition. (source)

What have we learnt so far?

So we’ve established some concerning behaviours here.

He eats in excess

He exercises in excess

He drinks in excess (on an empty stomach)

I’m actually going to move onto material from the ‘I Love You’ MV, but intertwine it with some of the remaining points from TIHTBILWY.

At this point the relationship has progressed, we’re moving into winter which brings with it the holiday season! Yay! Except not yay, because things are starting to look really bad for Mahiru’s boyfriend. We've gone from this:

To this:

The carousel was fine at first but now it’s taking its toll on him. Both of them have tattered clothes but Mahiru looks optimistic, whilst the boyfriend looks very distraught. His cheekbones are visible and overall he looks a lot less healthy. I guess this is a good time to point out how distinct and visible his collarbone has been this entire time by the way? He’s even bonier than before. Not great.

A lot of events occur at this time of year, such as Christmas (celebrated between couples in Japan as more of a lovers holiday) and new years. What happens a lot during that period of time? Food. Lots of it. This point in the year is not ideal for someone suffering from a worsening eating disorder. This is a period of time which someone would want to move very quickly from because they can’t see the end of it.

I think it’s time to read Mahiru’s comment from day 15:

“Happy new years! To celebrate, we went to a shrine.

Predictably, I already have my wish in mind.

May we stay like this until the end of time.

May nobody stand in my way”

She, on the other hand, is very happy for things to remain as they are.

Day 16 - AKA, Oh No Things Have Gone Terribly Wrong

This is where the narrative hits its climax and everything starts to snowball.

Now, we reach this scene where the boyfriend stops walking and breaks down. He kneels on the ground, digs his nails into it, and pleads for... something. Help? An intervention? A stop to this carousel that’s doing him no good and only making his health (physical and mental) worse?

He never speaks. It is a silent plea.

One that Mahiru misses.

Saying I love you but doing what I did, I know I have no right, crossed and covered in sin

My love, it scored an own goal, destroyed my love and me with its weight

Tell me, oh tell me why, can’t I just do it right

What did you do, Mahiru?

I believe that this scene and response:

Is directly parallel to this event:

As in, they’re the same thing.

One more comment to read:

He’ll be in for a big, delicious surprise once he gets home!

I’ve made SO many notes about his favorite foods, and practiced my butt off!

I can’t wait to see the look on his face when he sees it all.

Her love - her surprise buffet to cheer him up - scored an own goal, so to speak.

I don’t think I need to say much about this picture, or this scene. She’s giving him excess but that excess is literally driving him over the edge. The nuance is lost between them, and they both need different things from each other and they’re not getting it. Cake to rats, rats to cake.

They’re back on the carousel, spinning around and around with things never changing, no end in sight.

I want to end on this frame of the MV. You see the pole behind the boyfriend? It’s reminding me of rope, and of a certain visual at the end of the video. The juxtaposition of Mahiru forcing her ‘love’ onto him, and of suicidal ideation being the only way off this ride and his problems.

#milgram #mahiru shiina #analysis #long post #eating disorder tw #anorexia tw #bulimia tw #this is how to be in love with you #ai nan desu yo #I love you #daisuki #I DID THE THING and it's... long. and sad :(#this was a really interesting interpretation to write! it's certainly not bulletproof but I truly believe this guy had problems in life #and mahiru couldn't have changed that fact. did she help? not really! did things get bad bad? y. yeah. but! ...#...I have nothing uplifting to say here. her love was plentiful and well meaning but woefully misguided </3 #I genuinely care about this nameless character now... he looks so happy at the start embracing her and im certain in better--#--days between them they were having a great lovey dovey time!! ugH my heart it hurts.....#if there's typos it's because it's late and I'm tired LMAO

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delphinus-dancer · 7 months

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A deep dive into a swan lake and flipping the (metaphorical, sadly) bird:

A Mihaly-centric view of JD 2024 story mode

(because they’re my favorite and I’ve thought about this way too much over the past few days weeks) Spoilers for JD 24 in the almost-essay under the cut, including some images!

Starting off with Mihaly’s first appearance in the story mode in Canned Heat, it seems like not too much time has passed since the end of jd23- Sara seems to be at the same party, Jack still at the tower, etc. (how Brezziana got to the beach that fast and had a workout class is something I’m going to guess was preplanned before everything went down).

We can assume this would be the first time Mihaly’s come back to their room since then (which makes the idea of Wanderlust FaceTiming everyone like 5 minutes after they left even funnier). Of course there’s the shot of Mihaly ripping the poster off the wall, which probably puts their feelings into words better than anything else within an E10 rating. <Side note: I don’t know much on lore but does the setting mean there’s a chance they’re from Eternyx? Both maps started in dark crowd/nighttime so wasn’t sure if confirmed or not>

While Sara has the spot pretty much clinched for a Night Swan’s foil, Mihaly is a really close second. This shot literally puts it into perspective- Mihaly’s color scheme has as many color elements of Master Panda’s (shirt/jacket/foot wraps) as it does Night Swan’s (hair-that-perfectly-matches-the-poster/ gold of headphones and glasses/pants). Their dance style also overlaps moreso with hers than the other dancers, with the precision and technique of their moves, from the footwork and leaps of Rather Be to the dramatic powerful motions of their Swan Lake part. It’s pretty obvious who the song is directed to, and what makes the song so interesting compared to their last story mode one is how loose it feels. This is unlike their usual technical style because of the connection to Night Swan with the control demanded of certain moves that they’ve presumably mastered- maybe they were fueled by a desire to achieve her success. Regardless, the song and emotion fueled, less ‘perfect’ dance lets Mihaly basically flip the bird at Night Swan’s corrupted idea of perfection. Either way, it culminates in them achieving a new high in their training with channeling their ‘true’ inspiration of the (master) panda. Although they retain most of their same costume after sort of becoming a furry?, a noticeable change is that the black leggings are understandably switched to something looser- but to the navy color of master panda instead of Mihaly’s black.

What’s also interesting is that the specific point Night Swan interrupts Mihaly’s song isn’t at the beginning like Brezziana/Sara/Jack’s or the very end like Wanderlust, but at the climax of their journey for the song. Not only does this imply that she may have been watching the entire time but choose to interfere later, but she is also the only character to see the Panda form before Swan Lake.

As Night Swan basically invades Mihaly’s //mind/headspace/flowspace?/no idea on the lore// they initially try to fight her off, but unlike Brezziana in her map, don’t fight until the end. Although Mihaly themselves wasn’t being corrupted like the background coaches in Brezziana’s map, they still let themselves, in a sense, lose a more internal battle to Night Swan as they leave the metaphorical and literal height of their understanding and power in the Flow and come back to the real world.

This then takes us straight into Swan Lake, which is really interesting for the Night Swan/Mihaly interactions and how they compare to the other dancers. Although from a format standpoint it makes sense for the movements in the bridge to be different, there are more differences too.

A big one that I only realized once I watched Majesty again is how the other swan soldiers/minions were turned back- and that was mainly by doing the same moves to ultimately come together and bring the dancers back. Here it’s the opposite for effectiveness- what causes Wanderlust and Brezziana to fail is that they think that’s how to stop Sara. Sara matches the moves in a way that <well> matches, if not surpasses the power that they put in. As a result of meeting them head on and assuming control, Sarah actively corrupts the two of them. She makes motions to bring in the smoke, and both of them also are stationary/surrendering as their color drains.

When it gets to Mihaly, the dynamic with Sara changes completely. While Sara starts off watching with the same expression as when the others challenged her, it shifts as she realizes she can’t emulate what Mihaly does, with the movements almost like Night Swan’s-dramatic and slower. It comes to a head when Mihaly channels the panda again and visibly knocks Sara back, so she’s unable to push any of the smoke towards them.

Sara’s expression also becomes noticeably softer for the rest of Mihaly’s part, and she doesn’t reassert that dominance/control she had earlier- with dancing or the smoke. See how she looks almost pensive in the photos above/below, especially compared to the earlier parts.

Speaking of the smoke, this is the key part about Night Swan seeing the panda earlier. She knows it exists and how to force it off after the earlier song, and as Sara is incapacitated/distracted, she presumably sends down the smoke that starts attacking Mihaly in Panda form.

This attack is why despite having a chance to get through to Sara, Mihaly still ends up failing as they return to normal. However, they are the only character to be so dynamic in their active corruption. Not only does Mihaly manage to send a signal out to Jack, which was a display of power never seen from them previously, but they also do it as they are actively losing their color and control. Unlike the other dances, Mihaly still moves as they lose control, possibly having the strength to continue to fight had they not realized that Night Swan was attacking alongside Sara.

Although the signal is in the shape of a pawprint, its underlying meaning is more than just a plot device to send Jack on a wild goose chase (pun intended that I couldn’t pass up). With the way it opens to form a window into the location from such a distance, it almost seems to be a step away from a full fledged portal. With the sudden appearance of a new power, it’s also an interesting parallel to Night Swan, who here uses powers to create a unique form of control that wasn’t seen in the previous game and who regularly uses portals with her magic.

Another note is the lights that appear for each of the dancers in the upper left corner during the song as they take on Sara. While Brezziana and Wanderlust’s fade out a few moves before they fall, Mihaly’s still goes strong even as they completely turn grey, as seen the the photos above. This could be a possible indication to them having a more stable power than the other dancers, or a form of magic more comparable/competitive with Night Swan’s. Also to note about the lights: looking on the floor during the song, the diamonds flash 3 colors: hot pink (Night Swan), a deep green (Sara, especially while corrupted- her original outfit but darker), and a teal (the exact same color as Mihaly’s flow energy). Like everything else, this is a stretch, but it could possibly mean that Night Swan’s control and magic background could have stemmed from a pure form of flow like Mihaly practices.

This could also be a factor in why they retain the most of their original outfit in the corrupted design- possibly a form of resistance like they displayed during swan lake or general flow magic? Notice that while they have significant changes to their robe/face/accessories, their feather motifs are much less pronounced than the others, simply appearing as marks on the robe that can be mistaken for stripes, rather than overt feathers like Wanderlust/Sara or Sara/Brezziana’s feather tights. Unlike the others, Mihaly keeps their leggings exactly the same (which were notably lost in the panda form, as mentioned earlier), and interestingly enough, their wraps. I initially thought that Night Swan would have changed that to something like ballet slippers with ribbons, so I think it’s really interesting that they are the only dancer who had any details remain exactly the same, especially one that had unique opportunities to be changed.

Going off of that, since they were the last to turn and have (some?) control over their outfit and (some?) magic that may be similar to Night Swan, I could see them being the first/easiest coach for Jack or someone else to turn back when he (hopefully) takes on the coaches.

One last note is the number of maps per story mode coach at this point. Counting Stronger /Survivor, and Treasure/Lose Yourself (hopefully coming soon after that ending!), that seems to be setting a trend for the other coaches to potentially have an additional map as well. If so, maybe that would be one where Mihaly could individually be freed, or a chance for them to further explore their rapidly developing powers (maybe in a confrontation with Night Swan?? a girl can dream).

And there y’all have it! Thank you for somehow reading to the end!! Happy dancing!!

this took forever oh my god

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callsignfate · 6 months

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Personal Exile Pt. 5

Day Four of Writemas/Birthday posts!

If you want to see the scheduled posts go here If you want to see more posts like this go here

TW: Self degrading jokes (you call yourself mutt), if I've missed any let me know!

♤~♤~♤~♤~♤~♤~♤~♤~♤~♤~♤~♤~♤~♤

Your sleep was cut short as your ass and back burned from the stagnant position you had stayed in for hours, sleeping sitting on the floor next to her in your bed.

You were exactly what the others had nicknamed you as 'Valeria's mutt.' You had learned after listening to it so many times that you ended up translating it for yourself one night out of curiosity and boredom. Sleeping at her feet on the floor now, no less. You chuckled at your own thought quietly before you slowly staggered to your feet.

The burning and numb feeling had turned into painful needles that stabbed all over your lower back down to your feet as you moved your painfully numb legs towards the door once you had grabbed your usual gear. You glanced back at Valeria, still sleeping soundly. You walked out into the hall and then outside into the quiet morning. If you hadn't checked the time, you wouldn't have known that it was early morning from how dark it was. You scanned the patrols, recognizing a few of the men, none of them interesting to you.

You paced the hallways endlessly, taking in the art and decorations as you mindlessly looked around. Eventually, the windows brightened, and the sun showed through them as you sighed and headed back towards Valeria's office.

The door was slightly ajar; you opened it fully to see Valeria sitting at her desk, looking between papers looking better than she did last night.

"Well, look who's looking better already," you said, pushing the door open and walking in with a playful smirk.

She didn't even glance up at you, as always. "Did you sleep in bed with me?" She asked, not taking her eyes off the papers.

"As if I'd dare sleep in bed with thee, El Sin Nombre," you said playfully, putting your hand to your chest and bowing as if she were royalty and you were a mere servant.

"Where did you sleep?" She asked, only glancing at you briefly after tearing her eyes from her papers.

"On the floor like your so-called mutt," you said, putting emphasis on your nickname that you knew Valeria had also heard of. "It fits—I listen to you while you hold the metaphorical leash you have me on. I do your bidding, sorry—biting, then I sleep at your feet like a dog," you continued, and Valeria's eyes finally tore away from her work, studying you carefully. The air in the room seemed to shift with the unspoken tension between you two.

The corners of Valeria's lips curled into a sly smirk as she leaned back in her chair, regarding you with a mix of amusement and something unreadable. "Mutt or not, you always come back."

You approached her desk, leaning against it with a confident grin. "Well, I have to stick around for my favorite tyrant. Who else would put up with your demands and your charming lack of appreciation?"

Valeria chuckled, a sound that carried a hint of genuine warmth. "Charming, indeed. But don't mistake my lack of verbal praise for a lack of acknowledgment, mutt. You know your place."

"Right at your feet, metaphorical leash and all," you retorted, enjoying the playful banter that always danced between you two.

She finally set her papers aside and locked eyes with you. "Did you at least get some rest?" There was a subtle softness in her voice, a rare moment of concern that betrayed a deeper connection than your banter suggested.

You shrugged nonchalantly, "As much as one can on a cold, hard floor."

A contemplative look crossed Valeria's face. "Next time, take the damn bed. I'm not going to have my mutt complaining and unable to do her job because of a sore back."

The sincerity surprised you, but you met it with a nod. "Sure thing, boss. Now, what's on the agenda for today? More biting or just general mayhem?"

Valeria's eyes gleamed with a mischievous spark. "Let's start with a bit of both and see where the day takes us. We've got some dealings with the rival gang this afternoon, and I want you on the front lines."

You feigned a dramatic sigh. "Ah, the front lines. Always my favorite place to be."

Her smirk widened. "You love it, admit it."

"I live for the chaos you create," you replied, playing along. "Anything else, or shall I prepare myself for the impending mayhem?"

"Actually," she said, leaning forward, "we've got a new recruit coming in today. Some fresh blood eager to prove themselves. Show them the ropes, teach them the way things work around here."

You raised an eyebrow. "A babysitting job? That's a first."

Valeria's tone turned serious. "This recruit has potential. Keep an eye on them, assess their strengths, and report back to me. Understood?"

"Crystal clear, boss. Babysitting duty it is," you said with a smirk, appreciating the trust she placed in you for this task.

As the day unfolded, you found yourself navigating the delicate balance of chaos and order that defined your world. The streets echoed with the sounds of the city awakening to another day, and you, Valeria's mutt, moved with purpose. The new recruit proved to be a quick learner, and you shared the tricks of the trade with a certain level of amusement. It was a different kind of dynamic, one that reminded you of your early days under Valeria's careful watch.

♤~♤~♤~♤~♤~♤~♤~♤~♤~♤~♤~♤~♤~♤

A/N: Im sorry for this taking so long to post I spent so much time preparing for the birthday posts and 'writemas' that it ended up on the back burner but here it is!

If you want to see the scheduled posts go here If you want to see more posts like this go here

#valeria garza x reader #valeria cod #valeria x reader #valeria garza #valeria mw2 #valeria garza x fem!reader #mw2 valeria x reader #valeria garza x you #valeria garza cod

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camille-lachenille · 6 months

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I was researching something completely unrelated but I passingly saw that hemlock means mortality in Victorian and modern flower language. And my brain immediately thought of the ‘Song of Beren and Lúthien’ in FotR, specifically the first stanza:

The leaves were long, the grass was green,

The hemlock-umbels tall and fair,

And in the glade a light was seen

Of stars in shadow shimmering.

Tinúviel was dancing there

To music of a pipe unseen,

And light of stars was in her hair,

And in her raiment glimmering.

Hemlock is the third element im the description of the glade Lúthien is dancing in, even before we learn her name. We have the long leaves, the green grass and the tall hemlock; two elements traditionally associated with spring and youth, and one heavily associated with death. In two verses we know everything there is to know about Lúthien: she’s youthful and she’s going to die.

The hemlock appears again in the second stanza:

There Beren came from mountains cold,

And lost he wandered under leaves,

And where the Elven-river rolled

He walked alone and sorrowing.

He peered between the hemlock-leaves

And saw in wonder flowers of gold

Upon her mantle and her sleeves,

And her hair like shadow following.

This stanza is from Beren’s point of view, looking at Lúthien. And fact he looks at her through the hemlock leaves tells us he is mortal. Beren looks at Lúthien through the lens of a mortal gaze, and thinks her otherworldly. There is an added layer to it because, in Victorian flower language, hemlock not only means mortality but also more specifically ‘you will be my death’. And, indeed, Beren dies in his quest to obtain Lúthien’s hand.

The last occurrence of hemlock in this song is in the fourth stanza:

He heard there oft the flying sound

Of feet as light as linden-leaves,

Or music welling underground,

In hidden hollows quavering.

Now withered lay the hemlock-sheaves,

And one by one with sighing sound

Whispering fell the beechen leaves

In the wintry woodland wavering.

I find this stanza more difficult to analyse from a symbolic point of view since it’s mostly a description of autumn and winter coming, but it certainly puts emphasis on the importance of this plant in Beren and Lúthien’s story. As I interpret it, and this is my personal reading, it is an allusion to Beren and Lúthien growing old together and Lúthien choosing to die along Beren.

In The Tale of Tinúviel, the hemlock is also extremely important in the introduction of Tinúviel, and it is more or less a description in much more details of what is hinted at in the Song of Beren and Lúthien from FotR. I can’t put the quote because it’s in French but, very roughly, it says that the hemlock is so tall and dense it looks like Tinúviel is dancing on a white cloud. Then, when Tinúviel sees Beren, she hides under a very tall hemlock and her white dress makes her disappear in the hemlock, looking like moonlight on the flowers. The imagery used in this scene is absolutely beautiful and I can’t make it justice, but what is important is that, upon their first meeting, Tinúviel is metaphorically surrounded by mortality. She is an Elf yet she will die. And Beren, who is an elf too in this version (a Gnome, the proto-Noldor, and I struggle not to picture him as a garden gnome), is doomed to die too from the moment he walks amongst the hemlock in search of Tinúviel.

Last but not least is the Lay of Leithian. Sadly, I don’t have the full Lay of Leithian so I can’t look at the meeting scene but, in an extract given in the French translation of Beren and Lúthien (Christian Bourgois, 2017) it is said that Lúthien wears white roses in her hair (Canto VI, verses 116-117) and there are a few other mentions of unspecified white flowers. White roses mean ‘I am worthy of you’, withered white roses mean ‘transient impressions’, white rosebuds mean ‘girlhood’ and a crown of roses ‘reward of virtue’. I don’t really know what to do with these informations since I don’t have the original text so I can’t say how accurate the translation is, but all of this enhance Lúthien’s ethereal, eternally youthful appearance. It also shows the association of Lúthien with white and light in opposition to Morgoth’s black darkness, I think. But I don’t doubt for a second that the hemlock is an important part of the place where Beren and Lúthien’s meeting.

Anyways, I just love digging this kind of rabbit holes in Tolkien’s poetry, because it gives us so much insight on the characters, and I am almost sure that Tolkien, who grew up in late Victorian England and loved nature, knew of the meaning of hemlock or he wouldn’t have insisted so much on it. I’d love to see if there is a paper out there about flower language/symbolism in Tolkien’s work because I am sure there is so much more of it than what I looked at today.

Sources:

https://tolkiengateway.net/wiki/Song_of_Beren_and_L%C3%BAthien

https://www.gardeningchannel.com/flower-meanings-dictionary-from-a-to-z-the-secret-victorian-era-language-of-flowers/

J. R. R. Tolkien, Beren et Lúthien, Christian Bourgois, 2017

And as a bonus, the Song of Beren and Lúthien in music by Clamavi de Profundis: https://m.youtube.com/watch?v=11_aneHVaz8&list=PLR5qYNG5Nf7WFbZ6wr-rr7gDnALA4C8mQ&index=19&pp=iAQB8AUB

youtube

#tolkien #the silmarillion #lay of leithian #beren and luthien #the lay of leithian #the tale of tinúviel #beren #lúthien #lúthien tinúviel #flower language #hemlock #lotr poetry #tolkien song #tolkien meta #half baked ramblings by a sleep deprived tolkien fan #Youtube

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viviennevermillion · 1 year

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to love, despite

notes: i know i said i'd go on hiatus but i think i might have underestimated the genshin brainrot and also the support of my readers so you have this now

word count: 2.7k

premise: when wanderer accompanies the traveler to inazuma, he didn't expect himself to fall in love, much less to get his heart broken and face his fourth betrayal. luckily, you're there to lift him up. maybe he wasn't meant to be alone after all....maybe he was just looking in the wrong places

contains: wanderer x gn!reader, wanderer goes through a breakup with unnamed npc, hurt/comfort, blossoming feelings

warnings: mentions of cheating, scara's insecurities

The sun was slowly setting, tinting the horizon in comforting and warm colors. But today, there was a hint of sadness to the end of this day and right now, to Wanderer at least, the hues of red and orange slowly turning to blues and blacks mirrored the way a time of happiness and joy was washed away with the tides of the ocean. The waves crashed against the bow of the ship as it swayed with the way of the water; staying in control of the captain despite the untamed strength of the sea. It was a comforting sound; as if the shores of his former homeland were speaking to him, telling him: “Don’t grieve what’s lost. This too will pass.”

A music box was playing a slow song behind him. He mused one of the sailors must have put it there because they liked the tune. He glanced at the small apparatus, letting out a bitter laugh when he saw the frail ballerina figurine on top of it. What cruel irony life threw his way over and over again.

He looked out onto the docks as the ship set sail; beginning its journey to Port Ormos. Back to the comfort of his new home, back to Nahida who’d sure have some wise words to try and soothe him. Words that would be ultimately met with silence as they wouldn’t reach his non-existent heart in light of the events that had transpired. He heard the sound of the seagulls above the beach and closed his eyes, listening to the workings of the water; imagining how it’d sway him gently to a place where nothing and no one could hurt him.

He never expected himself to fall in love. And especially not in the span of a couple of months. But the one he loved had been like a hurricane of flowers; filling his hair with beautiful cherry blossoms to distract him from the destructive storm that was on the horizon. His lover had been kind; at first. Kind and joyful. Like they’d wash away his sorrows as they danced among the crowd, dragging him into the masses and encouraging him to dance along. The flowery words and the colorful metaphors had blinded him to how shallow humanity was and always would be. How he’d have to expect disappointment before all else.

They had taken his hands into theirs and promised him they’d stay. That they never met anyone quite like him. He remembered the sound of their laughter as it filled the air of spring; a time that was meant for new beginnings. He really thought this was the start of something good. “You’re adorable”, they had chuckled before kissing his cheek and he had blushed, clutching the flowers they gave him in his hands. They had taken him to their favorite places on Narukami Island and he had followed with a smile on his face; pretending like he hadn’t seen them all before. Still, during those carefree days they had seemed much brighter than before.

He remembered how he had sat with them under a big tree, watching the birds fly freely and the clouds pass by as if nothing ever mattered but what was there in the current moment. The one he loved had been like a gentle melody soothing the pain that still lingered in his mind and making him appreciate the peace and life around him. They had brought some goods they baked for him and told him they’re almost as sweet as him. They had told him they loved him. But sometimes people were privy to love only for as long as their lover had an ideal of them in their head that they were unwilling to let go of. A fairytale dream that made the Wanderer recoil; knowing it was never truly him they loved. It was an idea of him that was shaped by their mind to fit the desires of their heart; something he’d probably never truly comprehend.

And then he told them what he was. It shouldn’t matter. “It won’t”, the Traveler and you had reassured him. So he took a fearful step towards the unknown. At first it really didn’t matter. Humans were desperate to hold onto their dreams of perfection, after all. Most would find that without their delusions; life would be hardly the happy place they’d convinced themselves of. His former lover had told him that no matter whether he was a puppet or a human; they’d still love him all the same. For he could love too, after all. But sometimes what one loves in others is not the person themselves but what they can provide for their lives. Enrichment, support, fun. And sometimes it was that and that only.

That was what he had realised when he caught them showing their affections to someone else. In that moment, it seemed as if their whole demeanor had shifted. The aura of innocence and gentleness had long since faded and he had come to realize that they were not a rare treasure that existed outside of all the things that had hurt him; they were entangled in that same net of human faults and selfishness as all the other obstacles he had faced throughout his life. As all of them ever would, he thought; his pessimism clouding his mind once more.

“I’m sorry!”, they had called out to him with tears in their eyes, “I was going to talk with you about this, but I didn’t know how!” What are you crying for?, he had wondered. As they went on and on about how they never wanted to break his heart but they didn’t fully understand what it would be like to date a puppet; what it lacked; he grew colder by the minute. What did he lack? Wasn’t this what Nahida and the Traveler had attempted to convince him of? That there was no reason to not call himself a human? That he could have the same experiences as one regardless; love the same and be loved in return. He had fallen in love; with courage and hope in his veins; but the lightning had struck him nonetheless. He remembered the words they’d told him before he left: “I really care about you. And I still treasure you as a friend. But I need someone who…”

They never finished that sentence but Wanderer knew exactly what they were going to say. Someone who is human. I get it.

If the world was always going to reject his existence, maybe he should go back to rejecting the world in turn. Let the bitterness in his heart numb the pain. Let the anger wash away the sorrows and let the pride clouding his head blow down all that others had built in his life. You’re bigger than this now…, he reminded himself, knowing no anger or hatred would ever make his sorrow disappear. Only time and purpose and love could.

“Hey”, you began quietly. He hadn’t even noticed you were there; standing next to him now and observing the waves, same as he did. After what had happened, he didn’t feel like spending another day in Inazuma. The Traveler still had some unfinished business here and Wanderer was ready to leave on his own when you had convinced him to follow him back to Sumeru. You never said it but he could see in your eyes how you believed he needed a shoulder to lean on right now. And if he was really, truly honest with himself….then maybe he did.

“I got you one of those little mocktails they sell next to the captain’s booth”, you handed him the drink that had been poured into an empty ajilenakh nut, “I made sure they didn’t put any dango in it.” He thanked you and drank a bit of it. It wasn’t as bad as he had expected it to, even though it was a little bit sweeter than what he’d normally drink.

For a while, the two of you remained quiet. The constant sound of the ocean was enough to not make it awkward. “I’m sorry”, you then said quietly, “you didn’t deserve this to happen to you.” “I know”, he replied and closed his eyes, clutching his anemo vision for support over his chest where his heart should be, “but it keeps happening anyway.”

At least for now he wasn’t completely alone. He had Nahida, the Traveler and you. Even Paimon. You were his friends. For how long will they remain your friends, though?, that bitter voice in his head spoke once more. But over the past year, he had grown more familiar and comfortable with you and he had listened to your stories about the life you led and the people you’ve met throughout it. It had made him realize that while his feelings of estrangement as a puppet were unique ones; ones no one in this world might as well fully be able to comprehend; there were many humans out there who had struggled with loneliness and abandonment and it had left them as scarred as he had been.

“Such is the way of mankind”, you insisted, holding your hand out into the wind as if you could touch it. Little did he know you had grown to love the wind a little more ever since he received his vision, because it reminded you of him. He didn’t know that you had fallen for him long since, watching him fall in love with another and drift further away from you. And now he was hurting because of it. And in a way, that made you even more sad but just as determined to ease his mind and soothe the pain in his heart; one which may not be inside him but which you were nonetheless sure he had.

“Some of us seem to find our place in this world as easily as it is to breathe”, you began, looking at him with a gentle expression, “but I’ve found many of those never reach true happiness. They just settle. But for a lot of us that’s never enough. We get swept away by the waves of conflict and abandonment; relentlessly clawing our way up the next cliff and hoping that this time no one will push us off.” He didn’t dare look at you for a while when you placed your hand on top of his but he had to admit he found comfort in the subtle touch. Maybe he was just clinging onto a hint of affection after having been abandoned; desperate to feel cared for; but in this moment that didn’t matter to him.

“Isn’t that a little pathetic?”, he mocked your words with a bitter voice. “It is, truly”, you nodded your head, “we err for as long as we live. But it’s the only way we ever reach our happiness. It’s in our nature to, even in the face of all obstacles, have at least a little bit of hope in us. We all do. Even the ones who claim to have none. And one day that hope may be rewarded. I’ve seen it happen time and time again. It can happen to you. I think that’s worth being a little bit pathetic for.” You chuckled and he thought about your words.

“They looked so happy”, he then said after a while, remembering when he had met his former lover once again with their new partner as they were taking a stroll near the port. He remembered how he’d heard them giggle and tease each other. How they’d referred to jokes he didn’t understand and call each other nicknames that made him cringe. The familiar feeling of shock and disbelief was spreading in his body again and he looked at his shaking fingers. “Do you think they’re happier without me?”, he asked quietly.

“Probably”, you shrugged calmly and he let out a laugh at the absurdity of the situation. Hadn’t you come here in a silly attempt to cheer him up?

“But what matters is not the people we have our best times with, but the ones who stay with us through our worst. Because then we know that when we share happiness with them; one day we’ll be able to look back at those memories and feel satisfied. What’s the point of having the most fun of your life, if who you shared it with will be gone in a year or two because they moved on to the next thrill? What will be left of it but emptiness? What’s the point, but to learn what’s truly of value in this life?”, you gave him an encouraging smile and squeezed his hand, “I know you would have given them all that and been there for them when they needed it most. If they weren’t able to see that, that’s their loss.”

The Wanderer noticed how the Inazuman islands had now disappeared completely from view and he felt a breeze of wind blow through his hair as his tears poured down his cheeks and his facade of bitterness cracked as he allowed himself to say the words that had been stuck on his tongue for all this time. “I’m hardly a loss”, he croaked out with a shaky voice before he started sobbing.

You remained silent, instantly pulling him into your embrace and letting him cry into your shoulder. He clutched the fabric on your back with his fists as you put a hand on the back of his head and gently ran it through his soft hair.

“That’s not true”, you whispered, not wanting to overwhelm him with new information but also wishing he knew just how much he meant to you. That you wanted to stay by his side and love him the way he deserved, come what may. For now, you chose to try and convey that with your loving embrace, holding him for as long as he needed you to.

“You’re a wonderful person and I’m glad to be your friend”, you whispered, tightening your hold on him, “you have as much the potential as anyone to make someone else happy and to be happy yourself. It may be hard to believe right now, but I promise you, you just have to hold on a little bit longer.” Many had told him that. But there was a sincerity in your voice and in the way you hugged him that he couldn't help but feel like there was more to it than just empty promises. Were you perhaps talking about yourself?

What a silly thought, he brushed it off but it still gave him that familiar spark of hope. When he had been abandoned once again, he asked himself if anyone would ever truly love him. And maybe, the answer to that question would be you. Right now, he could hardly say you’d be in love with each other one day. But there was something. Like a sprout growing in the harshest desert. And something inside him couldn’t wait to see what it would become if he only had a little courage.

So he hugged you back gently, resting his head on your shoulder and smiling for the first time in days. This didn’t go unnoticed by you. “Are you feeling a little better?”, you wrapped an arm around his shoulder as you watched the sun set and stars appear in the sky. “Yeah”, he admitted, switching sides on the ship and looking in the direction of Sumeru, “and maybe I can afford to be a little pathetic.” “Oh trust me, you already did that”, you teased him and winked at him, “remember that time you called yourself the ‘Everlasting Lord of Arcane Wisdom’? That was pretty embarrassing.” He cringed at your words but it brought out a laugh through the tears. “Don’t remind me.”

You looked peacefully at the horizon, taking his hand in yours again to indicate you’d stay here to support him. “Relentlessness is one of the most defining traits of humanity”, you said with a gentle smile, “to persevere even in the face of adversity. To thrive in even the harshest environments and succeed despite the failures of the past and against the expectations of others. To suffer and lose, and to love, despite.”

notes: i listened to the sad fairy tail ost while writing this sbdbsndjsjdjs. i've had this idea for a while but the motivation to write it just hit me over the head today. hope you liked it. ❤️

#genshin impact #scaramouche x reader #wanderer x reader #wanderer x you #kunikuzushi x reader #kabukimono #scaramouche #genshin impact x reader #genshin x reader

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