#This song really relives that painful moment

[death-cheater]

When you feel like crying...

[northsoulss]

breakaway - leah williamson

(a/n: im so sad about jen leaving arsenal, but shes in bay fc now so i hope we get news about her soon :”). also i LOVED leah’s cover of breakaway by kelly clarkson and it inspired me to to write this lol. also i’ve just been sad and stressed sooo. part 2?)

it was a gloomy day in your apartment, your clothes strewn all over the floor, dishes pilling up in the kitchen. you laid in bed, unable to move, absolutely heart broken. leah and you had parted ways not too long ago, the memory of her telling you she couldn’t do this anymore fresh in your mind.

you remember seeing leah hunched over at the dining table, phone in hand, not even acknowledging your presence. you could feel her pulling away from you, spending almost all her days outside and away from you. you really wanted to ask her what was wrong now that you’ve caught her at home. you’re sick of her silence and you want an answer.

“leah, what’s wrong?” your voice small, afraid to provoke her.

“nothing’s wrong, __. i’m fine.” she says in a deadpan voice, a slight bite to it.

“no leah! we aren’t fine! you don’t even call me baby, and you won’t even look at me anymore.” you lose it, your voice booming.

“yeah, i’ve had alot on my plate lately okay?!” she snaps back, and you finally see her face. her hair unkempt, eyes full of tears, her signature frown on her face. oh how you wanted to reach out to smooth her brows, your hand coming up to cup her face, but her hand pushes you away.

“well that doesn’t mean you get to just keep me out of it! i’m your girlfriend for goodness sakes. i want to be there for you.” your voice breaks, and you feel that familiar fear creeping back into your body.

she’s going to break up with you.

“look, __. i just can’t anymore.” leah says exasperated, hand pulling back her hair. you search her eyes, trying to find any ounce of love left, but all you saw was coldness.

there it is. that dreaded feeling.

“that’s it? you’re just going to give up?” you had more anger in your voice than you expected, the tone making leah flinch.

“i just can’t. you keep pestering me and i’m sick of it. i’m sorry.” and like that, she left your apartment, leaving you standing in your hallway, the extra set of keys to your house clutched in your fist. you sunk to the floor the moment she slams the door shut, your knees hitting the ground with a loud thud. a part of you felt empty, a vacant spot left in your heart. you spoke a language only she understood, and now that she was gone, no one will be able to understand you.

it stung, knowing that you didn’t know the reason why she left, but you couldn’t take it anymore. you couldn’t just sit in your apartment all day, not moving while the world keeps spinning. you sit up, and immediately get hit with a memory of leah. you see your guitar collecting dust in the corner of your room. you haven’t played since ever since leah left, for it was too painful to have to relive every waking memory of her each time.

one of your favourite memories of leah was singing with her. you were classically trained in guitar, always pestering her to be your singer while you played. eventually when she relented, you would always beeline to your guitar, whipping it out from its case and taking it to where she sat.

one of your favourite songs to play was “break away” by kelly clarkson, it being the first song leah sang with you. you remembered the first time she did, her voice sounded like warm honey to your ears. your ears flushed and face warm as she sang, her eyes trained on you, watching your agile fingers strum the strings. from then onwards, you always asked her to sing while you played, wanting to only hear her angelic voice.

that memory was like a punch to the gut, knowing you can no longer hear her voice other than on the arsenal women’s Instagram which you still followed. you shook away the thoughts, a long sigh escaping your lips as you massaged your temples. you look around your house, and immediately start to clean up, slowly putting things away.

after a few hours of cleaning up, you collapse on your couch, completely exhausted. you open your tiktok, planning to doom scroll till midnight when a video of jen beattie and leah pops up. you forgot you were still following jen, becoming good friends with the older woman the moment leah brought you onto the pitch two years ago.

you instantly sat up straighter, eyes fixated on leah who sat next to jen, hoodie over her head with a smile. jen held her guitar, and the moment her fingers started to strum, your heart wanted to jump out of your chest. leah’s voice, oh how you missed it. she’s singing it again.

“shes singing our song.” you mumbled to yourself as you watched, a small smile growing on your face. you read through the comments, some of them mentioning you. you were a public figure as well after all, known for playing finger style covers of different songs. when leah and you started going out, you started posting videos of you two singing and playing, the very first video being that song.

“is it true? did they really break up?” “i miss your videos with __ leah!!” comments like this made your heart ache. you went MIA the moment you two split, not posting videos for over two months now. you really missed her, so much. after watching the video, you decide, fuck it. leah doesn’t get to ruin your love for guitar, and you sure as hell are not going to step playing just because she’s not here.

deciding to finally play again, you felt a sense of relief wash over you as you strummed, a sigh escaping your lips. propping up your phone, you record yourself, you play the introduction to breakaway, singing softly. you weren’t used to singing, only ever playing with an accompaniment. certain parts of the song hit harder than the rest, you felt tears welling up in your eyes.

trying hard to reach out

but when I tried to speak out

felt like no one could hear me

wanted to belong here

but something felt so wrong here

so I pray

i could breakaway

when you finished, you look up to the camera and stared wordlessly. this was the first time you truly saw yourself post breakup, and goodness. you looked terrible. hair in a disheveled bun, eye bags big enough to fit your dog in, bloodshot eyes. you’ve definitely had better days, and this is just the start.

“i’m sorry i’ve been gone for so long. i’m currently going through one of the toughest periods of my life, so have this song for old times sake.” you say with a smile, and stop recording, posting it without any second thought. you fall back onto your bed, ignoring the ringing of your phone. things are going to become better, you thought, yet another heavy sigh escaping you.

leah’s cover: https://vt.tiktok.com/ZSFLBWYhs/

[luvtak]

baby i'm yours, lee felix

✧ pairing lee felix x gn!reader

✧ genre/tw fluffy fluff! kinda hurt/comfort, reader has a migraine and felix is a little lovebug as always, too many petnames, kissing and sleepy cuddles

✧ w/c 1000

✧ a/n something small inspired by my own migraines, i hope anyone who relates starts to feel better and feels comforted by the sweetest boy <3 title is after this song it reminds me of him 💗

The house is filled with sound, circling around the space with laughter and music and video game noise. Lively melodies of boyishness, teasing and yelling; roughhousing so loud you’re sure the neighbors can hear.

The house is filled with sound, all except for your place in Felix’s room. Behind the door it’s silent, no sound but your gentle breath hitting his skin. He’s always so warm, a space heater personified, heating you everywhere his star-studded skin touches. You can feel his smile moving across your neck, placing soft little kisses on his path from your clavicle to your throat, all the way up to the side of your mouth.

“Feeling better?” he asks, his voice is gruff from lack of use and his eyes are light when they meet yours. His question seems more like a wish than an inquiry, he always worries when you get these headaches. Pain throbbing underneath your eyes and inside your temples, sometimes you feel so sick, nausea begins to accompany the migraine, and the only thing your boyfriend can do is wrap you up in his arms and his blankets and hope for the best.

You both know it’s easier to cure these moments away from the boy’s dorm. The cozy quiet of your apartment is much better suited to comfort the constant pounding, but there’s something magic to the noise. A curious familiarity surrounds the home, in some ways it reminds you of being a little kid and going to bed to the sounds of your parents still awake. A memory from an easier life, a moment trapped in time, but relived in these hurtful days inside this room.

“Just a little, I’m sorry I’m not very fun right now.” Your voice is a whisper, and your eyes are still squinted shut, but you hope your words are enough to convince him to stop worrying.

“Don’t be sorry, my love, I’m having a blast laying here with you.” Felix’s grin is sunlight, as bright and pretty as the rest of him, and you think it doesn’t matter if he’s lying—your head is already starting to ease just from the sight of your starshine boy smiling down at you.

His hands are in your hair and his smile is on your forehead, and you think you’ll be better in a few minutes. When you came over you had plans to watch movies and play Mario Kart with the rest of the boys, and maybe in just a few more minutes you can. You can almost envision it, opening up your eyes to a clear head and telling Felix that you feel so much better, joining the rest of the dorm in their night of laughter instead of this sickly quiet you currently inhabit.

You can tell your boyfriend doesn’t mind, he’s always happy to take care of you, but you’re sorry that another fun night has become the opposite.

“Really, Lixie, Go have fun with the boys… I can do all this by myself.” You don’t want him to go, but you need him not to feel trapped. Popping one eye open, you can tell what he thinks about that offer—if the slight squint of his eyes having anything to do with his emotions, he must think you’re crazy for even posing it as an option.

“And what? Sit in the living room with people I see every day instead of lying here with you? Are you insane?” He’s laughing as he says it, and his arms escape from your hair to gently play with your fingers. “You must be, my crazy little love… where does it hurt?”

His touch is light as a feather, pulling at your hands and rubbing up and down your arms. The skin to skin contact makes you shiver, even after all this time all it takes is a few gentle touches to start up the butterflies in your belly. You tell him about the pain under your eyes, huffing and whining when his body moves too much atop yours, but you stop as soon as his lips land softly on your eyelid; pressing down gentle and tender where the pain started.

“A kiss to make it feel better, okay baby?” Even through the pain his voice (so deep and quiet in the dark room) makes you smile. So typical of him, to be as sweet and sugary as the treats he cooks up. A boy who grew up on kiss cures and tickle fights, what a blessing to have him lay with you in the dark.

You’ve been smitten with him from the first time he shot his shiny smile at you, in love with each picture perfect piece of him. With hands grasping out to hold his, you kiss wherever you can reach: his shoulder first than the divot of his adams apple, all the way up to his uplifting lips.

“I love you, sweet boy… thank you for being with me.” You can’t tell if you mean here in the moment, or just in general, but either way it’s true. You’ll never stop being grateful for his place in your life, a light in the darkness and a heart to hold you when you don’t feel good.

He kisses you again instead of a response, slow and closed mouthed—desperately trying to express his feelings in all the ways he knows how.

“I love you too, you know I do.” He rolls off you, tucking you just underneath his chin; keeping you as close as possible. Legs on legs and hands clasped together, you can’t seem to find where you begin and he finishes—you’re as close as you could be with your warm pajamas on.

Everything is burning up, his skin and your love for him. So, cozy you can’t help but feel your eyes flutter close again. This close you can hear all his sounds, his heartbeat and his breath, and his sweet voice like a lullaby lulling you to sleep.

© luvtak

[little-diable]

One day you're gone – Tommy Shelby

Let's just ignore the fact that songs are my biggest inspiration, ok? Alright. Inspired by "one day you're gone" by "gavn!". I know this is super angsty, but I think it's a beautiful fic, so please give it a chance. Please like and reblog if you enjoyed reading this, your comments keep us writers motivated! Enjoy my loves. xxx

Summary: She died years ago, and yet he still dreams of her, forced to relive their moments together every single night

Warnings: 18+, smut, piv, loss of his wife (sorry for killing us off), this is sad, like really

Pairing: Tommy Shelby x fem!reader (1.3k words)

One day you're here and one day you're gone, you beat to the drum but you keep movin' on, ain't nobody knows when the next name's called, ‘cause one day you're here and one day you're gone

He dreamt of her, hands trembling from feeling his fingers interlaced with hers just moments before waking, heart racing from clinging to her like a blanket made to protect his shuddering body, lips tingling from kissing her breathless, at least in his dream. 

Those were the nights where Tommy woke with a cry, unable to wipe away the tears clinging to his cheeks as he choked on his gasps. Ever since he had been a little boy, he had been forced to let go of people, a dull pain Tommy had slowly adapted to. Until (y/n) had been ripped from his side, leaving him and the life they had begun to build together. 

He dreamt of her nightly, of their moments together, from childhood memories, to their wedding day. He saw it all so clearly as if he was watching recordings, though not in black and white and without sound, but full of colour. A bright splash of life like she had been, the light in his darkness, the colour in his grey life, the guiding hand that was now one with the soil he still felt clinging to his fingers. 

“Today we mourn the loss of our (y/n), daughter, friend, wife.” Tears blurred Tommy’s vision as he stood near the coffin, hands interlaced in front of himself to try and stop his hands from trembling. He, Arthur, some of their friend’s and (y/n)’s father had carried the coffin up to the grave, unable to speak as the weight of their sadness weighed them down. 

“Thomas.” The bucket filled with soil was reached out for him to take, forcing his eyes to find the dark ones of their pastor. With a shaky exhale leaving him, he let his fingers disappear in the cold soil, taking just enough to throw it down onto her coffin, covering a small part of the dark wood. 

“How could you do this to me?” His voice carried exhaustion, speaking to those who were listening, the holy Father promising to protect those finding his way to him, people like (y/n) who had been ripped from this life too early. 

Tommy rose to his feet as his fingers found a cigarette, alighting it before making his way out his empty bedroom. One of the places that held too many memories. One of the places he couldn’t part from just yet because his nose could still pick up on the scent of her perfume, because his eyes could still see her soft frame lying next to him, even though it had been years. 

“Oh, Tommy.” She had her back arched off the mattress, legs wrapped around his middle. The two had gotten married hours ago, saying yes to one another in the company of their families and friends, finally reunited after the war. Tears had been shed that day, tears that were falling now once again, though these tears were urged on by desperation, by love, by lust. 

His hips met hers with every thrust, drawing moans from (y/n) as his cock nudged her sweet spot. Tommy couldn’t rip his eyes from her features, the beautiful face he had thought of in France, clinging to his memories as if they were the oxygen he needed to survive. 

“My beautiful wife,” his words left (y/n) moaning, walls fluttering around his cock. The scent of her perfume wrapped itself around Tommy, luring him even further into the grasp she had on his body and soul, a promise made to last for eternity, a promise broken in only a few months time. 

“I love you, Thomas, I always will.” 

Rain was pouring from the sky, as if nature was sharing Tommy’s pain, missing the one who had spent most of her time in their garden, the one who had talked to the flowers as if they were her friends, the one who had watched birds pick up the seeds she had left for them as if they were pilgrims sharing her path. A kind hearted soul who had paid the price for a life Tommy hadn’t been able to protect her from. 

Tommy didn’t know how to make it through life without (y/n) by his side, he hadn’t lived a single day without her being part of his closest circle, glued together from birth, brought together by their mothers who had been friends for years. Ever since their first days together, Tommy had loved her, first as a friend, then as a lover, then as a husband, and now as a widower. 

“Can I kiss you?” Tommy’s voice filled the evening, forcing her wide eyes towards his bright ones. 

“What?” Nervous chuckles bubbled out of the young girl. She struggled to hold eye contact with Tommy, shifting her weight from one leg to the other, unable to rip herself away from the boy. It was Tommy’s fourteenth birthday, celebrating his day with (y/n) glued to his side, chasing him through the streets both knew like the back of their hands. 

“It’s my birthday wish.” Heat flushed through her as Tommy carefully cupped her cheek. She knew that he had kissed other girls before, locking lips with those she envied, but not once had she been kissed, waiting for Tommy to finally give in. 

“Do it.” His lips were on hers in an instant, drawing a surprised gasp from (y/n). It was a clumsy kiss both had to adjust to, but once her nerves finally let go of her, allowing the young girl to get used to the new sensation, she found herself enjoying the new feeling. 

With a sigh rumbling through Tommy, he plopped down on the stairs leading up to their house, stairs she had walked with naked feet whenever she had finished her garden work. The garden had withered away with her passing as Tommy hadn’t found the strength to step foot on the grass she had cared for. 

Whatever it was that now spurred him on, it forced Tommy back to his feet. The cigarette was long forgotten as he stepped foot on the wet grass, his shirt and underwear instantly soaked through by the pouring rain. He had his bright eyes focused on the weathered flowers, coming to a halt in front of one of many flowerbeds. 

His hands started working, reaching for the dead flowers to rip them from the lifeless soil. And for the first time in years, he felt connected to (y/n), clinging to what she had once planted. Tears once again ran down Tommy’s cheeks as he kept working, only halting his movements as his glassy eyes found the rising sun painting the sky orange and pink. 

“I’m sorry it took me this long, love.” The words were whispered, eyes unable to leave the sky as he made plans to revitalise their garden. He’d never be able to bring her back, but at least he could keep the memory of his loving wife alive. 

Broken bones, you live and learn, ‘cause we don't know that a good thing ends, but someday I hope that it'll all make sense, one day you're here and one day you're gone

[smileyerim]

right where i left you

jaehyun knew he’d be fine if he never saw you again — until he saw you again. overwhelmed with the realization that you’ve moved on, jaehyun must come to terms with his feelings for you… again.

part 1: in hell there’s heaven

pairing: ex!jeong jaehyun x ex!reader

genre: angst (shocker i know) !!MDNI!!

length: 3k

warnings: adults smoking weed, adults drinking alcohol, mentions of cheating, mentions of vomiting, it’s alluded that a character has a panic attack but not explicitly stated

net tags: @kflixnet

playlist here!

Jaehyun isn’t quite sure why he’s here. The bass feels like it’s thumping deep in his bones in an uncomfortable way, and only other guy in the smoke circle just asked him to Venmo him for the weed. Jaehyun just shrugged and pulled out his iPhone, but in retrospect he feels like he was done dirty. All he can do about it now is shrug and let out a huffed breath.

“You okay?” A very pretty girl sitting a bit too close to Jaehyun asks with a coy smile. Under any other circumstance, or on any other day, Jaehyun would have indulged her. Taken her home, maybe. Certainly wouldn’t have passed up on the opportunity to see what she could do for him.

Except today isn’t just any other day, it’s November 16th. What would’ve been your 2 year anniversary as a couple.

“Yeah.” Jaehyun let’s out with a blunt tone, tearing his hazy eyes away from her equally as hazy ones to stare into the crowd at the party.

His decision to ignore the beautiful blonde to his left brings back the same question that’s been circling in his brain ever since he faked a smile all the way to the stoner corner— why is he here?

He thinks about you in that moment; as he does a lot these days, and especially on days like today. He thinks about how you would’ve hated to be here, that you wouldn’t be caught dead in a scene like this on a Wednesday of all days.

Well, maybe Jaehyun is wrong about that because there you are.

Woah, he thinks, eyes nearly bulging out of his skull in shock.

His heart picks up in pace when he focuses his eyes on your figure. You’re really here, holy shit.

There you are.

There you are standing in the archway to the living room scanning the crowd. There you are looking as beautiful as ever, obviously looking for someone.

He frowns, trying to follow your line of sight to whoever it is you’re searching for. He scans the faces in the crowd, hoping to see the familiar faces of your girlfriends.

For a moment he ponders if you’re looking for a man, but he shakes that thought off pretty quickly. There’s no way you’ve moved on, he thinks. Jaehyun still can’t listen to certain songs because they’re attached to memories too painful to relive. You must be as hung up on him as he is on you.

Right?

Jaehyun panics, sitting up straight from where he was sinking deeper and deeper into the old sofa that was once a bright orange, but now a muddy brown in the corner of the room. He leans his elbows on his knees and rests his chin in his palm as he zeroes in on you walking across the floor, and into the sea of people.

Quickly, Jaehyun stands and follows after you into the crowd with just enough time to see a man clad in a leather jacket place a welcomed kiss on your lips. Your own arms are looped around his neck, and Jaehyun can see the shimmer in the man’s eyes as he stares down at you once he pulls away. Which, by the way, seems to be unfavorable for you. Jaehyun thinks as he watches you pull the man closer to chase his lips.

Holy fuck is all his flabbergasted brain can come up with as he stumbles back, hand coming up to his chest.

Thank God nobody in this swarm of bodies is sober enough to notice his odd behavior. He takes full advantage of that as he turns on the heels of his Nike’s to run away from the scene before him. An overwhelming feeling of nausea cloaks him from head to toe at the shock.

Before he even knows it, he’s outside with his hands on his knees as he dry heaves into a half-dead rose bush. When he coughs, they feel an awful lot like painful sobs. When he shuts his eyes to try and equalize his spinning world, all he sees is your lips against those of another man.

He shakes his head, spitting into the dead branches of the bush as he stands up straight with a pained groan.

He sighs, eyes shutting tightly as he lets the scene play over and over in his head. It’s too much, but also not enough to make him cry, so he just sits and swallows back the painful choking feeling in his throat.

All Jaehyun feels is overwhelmed. Uncomfortable, unsure, and overwhelmed. He’s never been all that great with identifying or expressing his emotions, he didn’t even know he loved you as much as he did until you were gone, and today is just like the others.

He wishes he could articulate the thoughts running through his head. He wants nothing more than to call his friends for support, but he doesn’t know how. He doesn’t know how to tell them what he just encountered. He doesn’t know how to tell them how it made him feel. He doesn’t know how to even build the courage to take his phone out of his back pocket and just do it.

He’s still standing with his eyes screwed shut next to the bush when you find him. Your heart churns when you see how pained he looks, but you quickly shake yourself out of it enough to call his name.

His head whips up at the sound of your voice, and you’d be an idiot not to recognize the look in his eyes as he stands before you.

He then quietly calls out your name back to you, and you aren’t sure if he’s in shock, or trying to confirm that you’re actually here in front of him.

“Hey.” You say and offer him a small smile. You can feel your palms beginning to get clammy and your heart thud in your chest. You hate confrontation. Breaking up with Jaehyun was the hardest and bravest thing you had ever done.

He doesn’t respond, just trailing his eyes up and down your body. Not in a sensual way, but in the way that you can tell he’s attempting to read you but failing. His eyes do stop for a moment more on your lips, and it’s not hard to know why. For the last fifteen minutes all Jaehyun could think about is your lips. Your lips pressed against a man that isn’t him, to be specific.

Ignoring the creeping memories of the last time you stood in front of Jaehyun as he ignored you, you continue on the one sided conversation, “Why are you over here?”

That seems to do the trick with knocking him out of his thoughts. He stands up straighter, looking down at the bush and sniffing back his congestion awkwardly.

“Threw up.” Is all he says. It’s the same nonchalant tone he spoke in during your last fight.

“What? Seriously?” You yelp out, stepping in closer to look at the bush with morbid curiosity.

“Nah,” he says, having watched you step in closer with caution, “almost though.”

He isn’t sure why you’re talking about this, or why he’s even letting you lead the conversation in this direction, but soon the follow up question comes.

“But, why?” You say, frown in between your brows. He looks at you with a disbelieving look on his face before he realizes you weren’t kidding. He wants to laugh at how classic it is, at the fact that you don’t even recognize how much he’s in love with you still.

He shrugs, digging his fingers into the front pockets of his jeans. He pauses for a moment in the silence, distracted by a water spider skimming the surface of a muddy puddle that is just inches away from your foot. He wants to laugh, you would freak out if you knew a spider was this close to you, but he doesn’t point it out to you. If he did, he would just be cruel. He’s not yours to joke around with like that anymore.

With another scrunch of his nose and a sniff, he looks up into your eyes. His heart skips a beat, and that delays his speech, but he gets out his proposal nonetheless with a dry voice.

“Can we talk?”

You smile a sad smile at him and nod, turning on your feet to walk towards an old sun bleached cooler that’s been sitting in the front yard of this house since Jaehyun’s been coming around. Jaehyun wants to urge you not to sit, he doesn’t trust the structural integrity of the cooler, but he doesn’t. Wouldn’t your new boyfriend be weirded out by your ex looking out for you?

It’s a real question that passes through his mind, one that he doesn’t have an answer for.

“So,” is what you say to urge him to speak and it takes Jaehyun by surprise.

His stupidity really blows him away sometimes, he thinks, as he realizes that his total lack of foresight led him to starting a conversation he doesn’t know how to have.

“I don’t know what to say.” He says in honesty, noticing how you have a slight pout on your lips as you stare up at him from your sitting position on the cooler.

He wants to kiss you, of course he does. You’re the most beautiful girl on all of planet Earth and you’re sitting only two feet away from him with your lower lip slightly jutted in a confused pout. Jaehyun is a man after all.

You giggle and look at him with much more grace than he deserves and say, “Tell me how you’re feeling right now.”

“I don’t know, I’m feeling a lot.” He says honestly, and you validate him with a nod before asking your next question.

“Is the party making you anxious? Is that why you were over by the bush?” You ask, choosing to play the long game to get the answers you want out of Jaehyun. It was common practice in your relationship, and you surprise yourself by how quickly you’re able to slip back into that role.

Do you want to be here? You aren’t sure. Usually you’d be too afraid of him abandoning you to even ask yourself such questions.

Jaehyun wants to roll his eyes at how oblivious you’re being to the cause behind his behavior. He’s fed up with you not noticing him.

“Do you know what day it is?” He says, empty eyes piercing into yours. You gulp, your sweaty hands sticking together uncomfortably as you rub them together.

You were hoping he wouldn’t bring it up. You figured he’d be acting too laissez-faire to show his cards in such a way.

“Of course I do.” You say, almost shouting out the phrase.

“Then there’s your fucking answer.” He spits and you detect the creeping feeling of anger climb up your belly and into your chest.

Jaehyun did that a lot while you were together, bottle up all his feelings until they came out in bitter anger. You always had enough grace for him. You never left him without a second chance. You did it to protect him, protect you two together. You were consumed with fear of losing him, so you gave him shot after shot.

But what’s left now? What’s left to protect? Why does he need any more chances?

Suddenly empowered, you stand and look him in the face, “You won’t get away with that now.”

This only fuels his fire, “What the fuck is the point!”

You step into his space and look up into his angered eyes, “Why did you ask me to talk?” Your tone demands more than asks. Your knees are shaking. Confrontation still doesn’t come easy to you.

He breathes out and seems to calm a bit when he answers your question with one of his own, “Who is that dude?”

A knowing look finally crosses your face as you look at him with disappointment, “Why can’t you ever just tell me how you’re feeling, why do you play these… these mind games!?”

You step away from him, frustration overwhelming you as you look up at the moon as you say your next phrase, “Why do I always have to figure it out myself?”

You look at him, pleading eyes. He’s never heard you speak with that tone, you’ve never looked at him like this before. For the countless time this evening, he’s in shock. What did this breakup uncover in you?

He says nothing, finally being brought to silence. He has no answers for you, he wishes he knew himself why he did what he did. Why he could never be fully honest with you— with anyone, for that matter.

That’s one of the reasons he loves you so much, you met him where he was. You never expected him to rise to your level.

“Look, I need to tell you something.” You break the quiet and step closer to him. He meets your gaze with desperate and sad eyes, no longer cold.

You sigh, feeling very small under his gaze, breaking eye contact and shaking your hands by your sides to dry off the sweat. Fighting the anxiety, you look back into his eyes and ignore the way your heart skips a beat.

“I would’ve stayed if you had fought for me out on the porch that night.” You breathe out, the fear of rejection always associated with vulnerability hitting you like a truck. His face morphs into an unreadable one, and your palms start to feel clammy again.

After what felt like hours of eye contact, he finally speaks.

“But I didn’t.” He says very quietly, eyes darting between your two as he attempts to commit them to memory. This is the last time he’ll have you like this, he suspects.

“No,” you sigh, “you didn’t.”

He shuts his eyes tightly with a sharp inhale and he looks like he’s about to cry. Your heart squeezes and you feel your own tear ducts threaten to awaken.

“How about now?” He says with a playful lilt in his voice once he collects himself. It almost makes you giggle, his natural charm shining through and reminding you why you were with him in the first place.

You break eye contact with him for a moment and suck your lips in between your teeth and look down at the distance between your feet.

The ball is in your court. Would you be crazy to consider taking him back? Something deep inside of you urges you to take the leap, which feels terrifying. Logic tells you to run away, but your heart won’t let your feet move back.

Instead, they move forward as you step to wrap your arms around Jaehyun’s middle in a tight hug.

He stiffens for a moment before melting into your embrace, one hand coming up to hold the back of your head with the other arm around your waist. He pulls you in closer. Closing your eyes and letting out a deep breath, it feels exactly as you wished it would.

“I missed you.” You say, and Jaehyun’s heart picks up a beat when he realizes what this means.

Are you giving him a second chance?

“I won’t ever— I… fuck,” Jaehyun stumbles over his words as he attempts to pick the right ones to make you not regret your decision. So many words are bouncing around in his head, he considers just kissing you the way he used to when he got overwhelmed with his feelings for you.

He feels over the moon with joy at this moment, but also weighed down with pressure. His heart is beating a mile a minute and you can hear it, nuzzling in closer to give him time.

He closes his eyes, reveling in the feeling of having you back. He was right. You are the love of his life. He’s never felt this way before, and he’s sure he won’t feel this way ever again.

For the first time tonight, what he says comes easily.

A whisper of “I love you.” Escapes his smiling lips. He’s bouncing with excitement to hear you say it back. You bite your lip and anticipate the giddy feelings to wash over you to urge you to share in his sentiment.

But they don’t.

The feelings never come, in fact, you feel the opposite. A dreadful feeling sweeps over you as you frown, biting your lip until it hurts.

“Say- say it again.” You request with a small voice that Jaehyun is far too love struck to notice sounds a little off.

He pulls you out of the hug this time to hold you by the shoulders and look straight into your eyes. He’s positively beaming with love. He’s never looked at you like this before and it only breaks your heart more at what you know is coming.

He says your name very slowly before speaking, “I never stopped loving you. I love you so much.”

Suddenly, the glass shatters in your heart and a sob escapes your throat, cowering over yourself with tears beginning to flow.

It’s wrong. You can’t describe it any other way. The feeling in your gut and the lack of feeling in your heart are telling you all that you need to know.

This, whatever it is now or once was, is wrong.

You continue to sob as Jaehyun stands before you with a confused frown on his face. Is he supposed to comfort you? His heart has been tugged around like a dog on a leash all evening long, he’s nearing the end of his rope. All he has left to give you is his honestly. All he has left is his love.

But something’s wrong. So wrong that Jaehyun, the most emotionally unintelligent and unaware person you know, notices.

“I— I can’t do it again.” You sob into your hand and Jaehyun quickly attempts to reassure you. He feels a sweeping sense of relief, he still has you.

“Baby, it won’t. I will never cheat on you again.” Jaehyun says with as much sincerity as he can physically muster.

His obliviousness makes you cry harder, shaking your head and directing your teary eyes to his.

“No, Jaehyun. I can’t.” You blink tears out of your eyes and swallow your sobs as confusion paints over his features again.

“I don’t get it.” He says plainly and you frown, taking a shaky deep breath in and out.

“We aren’t getting back together. I’m sorry.” You say before brushing your shoulder past Jaehyun, leaving him speechless in the front lawn alone to run indoors.

Jaehyun feels like he just got the wind knocked out of him as he stands, speechless and unmoving. Each inhale he takes feels more and more shallow, a dry cough escaping his throat. He has to remind himself to blink, counting his breaths as he inhales and exhales rhythmically.

Slowly, Jaehyun trails his gaze up to the full moon shining bright above. It was a full moon the night you first left him too, he remembers.

Unlike last time, though, all Jaehyun does is stare. He doesn’t scream, he doesn’t beg, he doesn’t plead for answers. He just stares.

Just like before, Jaehyun stands with the midnight breeze and the bright full moon. Alone, devastated, confused.

Right where you left him.

a/n: i know you want me to talk about the twist ending but i want to talk about how much i love all you readers <3. this is my first and only fic to ever have a consistently interested reader base. like i have people coming into my inbox with theories. theories!!! y’all are paying THAT much attention? man that means the world to me fr. thank you so much for loving ihth and i hope this fic did it justice, you waited a long time for it.

taglist: (if you responded to in hell there’s heaven i added you<3) @matchahyuck @maliakealoha @the-universe-in-you-jjh @yutanology @peachy-hoya @jinniect @cocopuffcrunch @mint-yooxgi @yuskitty @methneo @lovesuhng @sadchonkks @silcry @cryingforjae @soobsfairy444 @wife-of-tyler

[fiapartridge]

bye ⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ | jack hughes

“maybe someday we'll look back with love.”

☼ pairing: jack hughes x fem!reader

☼ summary: feeling down, an ad for lacuna inc. makes its way to your doorstep, prompting you to travel to new york city and erase your memory of the one thing that's hurting you...

☼ fia’s note 💌: eee i love this song! this album is 100% a no-skip album! again, thx for joining us on this 13-part-series <3 pls enjoy “bye” ❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥

eternal sunshine hq ⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚

prev part: intro (end of the world) ⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚

*₊ ° .　. • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆

He still lingered around your house. Memories of you two slow dancing in the kitchen, sitting on countertops as he stands between your legs, dolloping whip cream on your nose as you laughed like it was the funniest thing on the planet. Honestly, to you, it was the funniest thing on the planet. You two lived in your own world; on your own planet. Everyone saw it that way, and for while, you did too.

You had been meaning to ship his belongings back to him: the red and black Devils sweatshirts piled on your dresser, the teddy bear he won you during your trip to Coney Island, the cologne he left on your desk in case you missed him while he was on a road trip. You couldn’t stay in your apartment anymore. Every time you came back to the beige walls of your small home, you were greeted with reminders of Jack. And it stung every single time.

Collecting his items from around your apartment, you stuffed them into a white cardboard box. You didn’t know what you would do with it. Maybe you could ding dong ditch Jack and just leave the items at his doorstep, or maybe you could burn it somewhere with your best friend, Courtney. Upon deciding your next step, a slip of paper slid underneath your door.

You stood there for a moment, watching the paper sit in its place, its words tucked to the underbelly of the pamphlet. Walking over, you cautiously kneeled down and turned the sheet over.

“Lacuna, inc.

They say time heals all wounds, but the hardest part about dealing with a wound in your past is not the pain, or having to relive it again and again. The hardest part is that it makes you question who you are. Don’t let the memory define you. Erase it. Start anew. Reinvent yourself without the lingering thought of them in your mind, and the prospect of questioning your abilities in the future. 

Visit Lacuna, inc. at 210 E Grand St. New York, NY 10019. Call us at +1 (917) 964 - 3205.

Become yourself again.”

It felt stupid, right? Erasing the memory of Jack Hughes and your relationship with him from your entire memory? It felt extreme and dangerous—highly unlike you. But that was the thing that broke the camel’s back in the first place. You couldn’t be what Jack wanted you to be. You couldn’t be spontaneous and take risks and be dangerous. Maybe it was time to start? Because for the past two months, you felt this unbearable ache in your chest and you were tired of feeling it. You were tired of wondering if you were enough, or if you could ever be happy again.

This could fix that. It could fix everything. It could fix you. 

Which was why you found yourself in the driver's seat of your car, your collection of items that reminded you of Jack in the passenger seat beside you, and your GPS pulled up with the location of Lacuna, inc. in New York City.

You were going to become yourself again. 

*₊ ° .　. • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆

The waiting room was small: uncomfy chairs lining the perimeter of the room, a table in the center with research about lacunar amnesia and the safety of the practice, and ugly overhead lighting that made you feel like you were little again, waiting nervously at the doctor’s office.

A brown clipboard laid on your thighs with a waiver, asking you if you really wanted to do it. There was no going back. There was no regaining the memory of Jack Hughes after the procedure. Once it was gone, it was gone— for good. No more Jack. 

You could move on—the same way it looked like he already had.

“You have given extensive thought behind your decision and give “Lacuna, inc.” exclusive permission to remove this person completely from your mind: Yes or No”

With a shaky breath, you checkmarked: Yes.

A couple minutes later, your name was called by one of the nurses and you were carrying your box of Jack’s things into the procedure room. They took the box from your hands, laying it on a table with big machinery and lasers. This whole thing felt foreign to you, but you were ready.

Sitting down in a chair at the center of the room, they strapped patches to your temples as you sat with your hands intertwined in your lap. Your heartbeat raced on the monitor beside you as you closed your eyes, letting the memories take you for the last time. 

“Marry me,” Jack blurted as you laid in his arms on the sofa of his apartment. He could feel you tense up. He could feel your breath stutter and you rise from your position.

“What?” you asked, unsure if you had heard him correctly. You started dating Jack when you were 20. You had a year left of college, he was already playing in the NHL, and you had never met anyone quite like him. He was carefree and limitless. He believed that anything was possible; that logistics weren’t important. You were the one that kept him leveled; that yes, ideas and fantasy is important, but the actuality of it is important too.

“Marry me,” he repeated. He said it so simply, as if it held the same weight as asking if you wanted to go out for ice cream later, or if you wanted to stay in or go out for dinner tonight.

You furrowed your brows, your mouth running dry. “We’re 22, Jack.”

He scoffed, mirroring your body language as he rose from his position on the couch. “So?” he shrugged. He took your hands in his as you failed to meet his green eyes. “I want to be with you, Y/N. I know that more than anything. You can move in with me, we could get engaged now and married next year, my grandmother would love you, and—”

“Jack—”

“My brothers already consider you a part of the family—”

“Jack—”

“Why don’t we just make it official, you know? You could be family and—”

“Jack stop,” you scolded, removing your hands from his as he stared at you with a look you’ve never seen before. He’s never been the level-headed type. He’d always been one to fantasize, but this felt extreme. You two were still young, you were still trying to find a stable job and make a name for yourself. You couldn’t get married now. “Listen to yourself. I don’t even have a stable job.”

“You don’t need one!” he exclaimed. “I can work, I can make enough for the both of us, you don’t need to worry about money.”

You stood up from the couch, fuming. How could he just dismiss everything you’ve ever worked for like that? “But I want to work.”

“So work,” he shrugged. “Find a job, I don’t know! All I know is that I want to get married to you. Don’t you want that with me?”

You paced around the living room, trying to wrap your head around everything. “Yes, of course I want that with you, Jack. I just,” you took a deep breath. “I don’t want that right now.”

You watched him recoil. He wanted it now, you could see it in the way he goes silent, and the way he looks as if he wants to be nowhere near you right now. “When do you want it then?”

It wasn’t like you had a set date in mind, but it sounded like all he could hear from you was that you didn’t want to get married. He didn’t want to listen to you. Whenever anything deviated from what he wanted, he shut down. That was just who he was, always has been. 

You crossed your arms, holding yourself as if that was the only thing that felt familiar to you in that moment. “I don’t know, like when we’re 24/25?”

“Two more years?” he questioned incredulously. If he knew he wanted to be with you for the rest of his life, why couldn’t he just wait?

“Jack, your fans don’t even know we’re dating!” you shouted. “How are they going to feel when they find out you’re fucking married? Would you even tell them or would you just keep me a secret for the rest of our lives?”

“You know I wouldn’t do that to you.”

“I’m just not ready, and you know you aren’t either.”

He laughed, but it felt poisonous, like venom was dripping from his tongue. It didn’t feel like his infectious laughs that you wanted to replay in your mind for the rest of your life. It felt like a memory you needed to erase. “What are you saying, Y/N? This isn’t just a random thought, I’ve been thinking about this for a while now. And I guess, I just thought that you were thinking about it too.”

“I have been! Just. Not. Now, Jack. Why can’t you just listen to me? It’s not just you involved in this! This is both of our lives that this is affecting!”

“Well, I didn’t think it would be such a negative in your life.”

You couldn’t believe what he was saying. He was acting as if the two years you had spent together was nothing to you. “I never said that and you know that.”

“Yeah? Well, it sure feels like it.”

“You’re unbelievable, you know that?”

It was like you hit a nerve. Like you touched something that you never knew was beneath him. “Then why are you even with me? If I’m so unbelievable.”

“You can’t be serious, Jack,” you shook your head, rounding the corner of the room and towards your shoes that were laid at the entrance of the apartment. You pointed at him as he followed you. “You’re acting like a child. Grow up!”

“Me? You’re the one that’s scared of committing!”

“I’m not scared of committing to you, Jack. I’m scared of not being me anymore. You need to know the difference!”

“Then tell me the fucking difference, because right now, it just feels like we’re breaking up.”

Your head shook, your fingers didn’t feel like your fingers anymore, and in real life, in that office chair, your eyes scrunched and your breathing quickened. You couldn’t relive this. Somehow, it hurt more the second time.

“I don’t even know who I am yet!” you threw your hands in the air. “And you just expect me to be Mrs. Hughes? To be a part of your family? To make me… yours?”

“Come on, Y/N. You’re being dramatic. You’re acting like I’m taking you, or something.”

“I’m not dramatic, you’re just not listening to me!”

“I’m trying, okay? I’m trying to listen to you, but you’re making this so fucking difficult. You make everything fucking difficult. You’re just too much sometimes.”

You didn’t even know you were crying by then, but you were. You were sniffling as you walked around the apartment, grabbing your jacket from the couch, your purse from the dining table, and your shoes from the entryway. You could hear him pestering you with questions: Where are you going? We’re not done with this. Are we breaking up? If you leave, we’re done.

But you’ve spent your life being a people pleaser. You’ve abandoned yourself time and time again to make ends meet. You’ve skipped so many important events to go to his games, and to meet him in California just because he asked you to, and at the most important times of your career, times when you asked him to just stop by for a second so you could have one familiar, comforting face, he had a game, or he had to go out with the guys for “team-bonding”, or something else of higher matter just took priority. All you asked for was effort from both sides. 

So to hear that you prioritizing yourself for the first time was dramatic? You couldn’t hear him anymore. All you wanted was to get the hell out of there—even if it meant breaking up.

Courtney pulled up outside as you rushed into her car, your chest heaving and tears spilling out of your eyes. She didn’t ask what happened, she could tell from your texts that it was something bad, something unrecoverable.

But, as if saying it out loud would help you comprehend it for yourself, you said the undeniable.

“I think we just broke up.”

[thatlovinfeelin]

Afterglow -Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw-

In which the woman Rooster really loves realizes it's time to stop being the other woman.

Afterglow…. Something you never thought you’d be clutching onto. But you knew the second this moment ended, so did your relationship with the man above you. He was lying on your chest, his head in the crook of your neck. His hair tickled your cheek. His skin was warm against yours. 

You’d miss this, these moments with him. So simple you could overlook them, if you didn’t know what was coming next. He was probably still blissfully unaware, still stuck in the post orgasmic haze that seemed to have escaped you. Because you knew you’d never have another night like this. 

Your radio was playing softly in the corner of your bedroom, you couldn’t even make out the song. You wanted to cry. You had to choke it all back. He couldn’t know, not yet. Just a few more moments of this, a few more moments of the afterglow that you’d never get to experience again. 

“That was amazing,” He murmured, kissing your neck, “God, you’re amazing.”

The whimper was hard to tamper down. Outside, the sun was setting, turning the whole world shades of gold. How many sunsets had you watched with him? You took all of them for granted, until now. Now you wanted to remember every moment you ever had with him, just so you could relive them again when you became unbearably lonely.

“Yeah,” You whispered, trying to sound normal, “Can we just stay like this? Just for a few minutes?”

He sighed. He never stayed, that was the rule. The few times he tried, you were almost caught. His cover was nearly blown and it took weeks for things to calm down enough for him to come back over again. 

“I wish,” You could almost hear the heartbreak in his voice, “I wish I could, my love.”

He didn’t call her that, only you. She was sweetheart or sometimes baby, but you were always his love. But you weren’t his only love. The knowledge of that hurt more than watching him leave every time, knowing it could be the last. But tonight…tonight really would be the last time. 

“When do you ship out?” You asked quietly. 

“Tomorrow morning,” Another sigh from him, “Long before you’d roll over, since you like to sleep till noon.”

“I wish you didn’t have to go,” You were selfish and you knew it. 

So fucking selfish. You wanted him to yourself, even if he wasn’t yours to keep. He belonged to her. He was hers and had been hers for two years now. She had the ring, not you. You wanted to be able to let him go before now, but you couldn’t. You were too selfish. Selfish, selfish, selfish. 

“I wish I didn’t have to leave you,” Was his only reply, planting another soft kiss on your neck. 

“Where does she think you are right now?” You nearly winced as you asked. 

He propped himself up on his elbow and looked down at you. He looked like he was in just as much pain at your question. He probably was in pain, because you knew he cared about you, but he cared about her too. So much so that he was going to marry her, leaving you in the shadows. 

“Does it matter?” He questioned, stroking your cheek gently. 

You forced yourself to swallow and look at the ceiling instead of him. His deep hazel eyes would be the death of you. They always seemed so soft when he was around you. The few times that you saw him with her, they didn’t seem that way. Not for the worse, and not for the better. You knew he loved her, you would never question that. But how could he love her and still be here with you? He loved you before she was even in the picture, but how did that make any of this right?

“I wish you didn’t have to leave,” You said again, feeling a tear slip down your face. 

He cursed softly and rolled onto his back. His hand found yours and held it so tight it almost hurt. He would offer what little comfort he could. But even he didn’t know how to deal with this situation anymore. Everything was getting too muddled. He wasn’t sure where some feelings stopped and others started anymore. He couldn’t keep pushing his feelings for you away when he was with her. 

He hated the fact that he was hurting you. It threatened to tear him in two. He met you in college, in a time where he needed someone to lean on. Somehow you became that person, and over the years you followed him wherever he went. It became clear neither of you were dating or interested in anyone else, so he found his way into your bed. Then he just sort of stayed there. Until he met her. 

It was an accident, really. He thought you would be the person he’d end up spending the rest of his life with. But then he met her and she was so different. She was gentle and almost innocent and pure. She was like you and yet so unlike you that it made his head spin. 

Maybe that’s why he proposed to her a year ago. Because she was just enough like you that his heart didn’t hurt as much. You told him you never wanted to get married or really settle down. You were happy sleeping with him and having the benefits of a boyfriend without actually having one. He wanted more. You couldn’t give it to him, but she could. 

Only, once you saw them together you realized just how much you wanted to keep him. You wanted to be his one and only, but it was far too late for that. He didn’t belong to you anymore, and you needed to let him go. 

“This is the last time we do this,” You said softly, your heart breaking with each word. 

“Love-”

“I mean it Roo,” more tears fell from your eyes, “I can’t keep doing this. I can’t love you and then send you back home to her. I can’t be the other woman anymore.”

“You said-”

“I know what I said,” Your voice broke this time, “I was wrong, and I can’t ask you to leave her. Not with the wedding happening when you get back.”

“I-”

“I’m leaving, I won’t be here when you get back,” The tears were flowing freely now, “I can’t keep breaking my heart. And I don’t know how to live in a city with you, but not have you.”

“My love, please-”

Your head shook and you forced your hand out of his before getting out of the bed. You wrapped your robe around yourself and tried to put as much distance between you and him as you could. You felt so small, standing there in the middle of your bedroom, looking at the man you love in your bed. 

“I can’t be your love anymore,” You cried, wrapping your arms around yourself, “Don’t you see that? You can’t have both of us, but you need her. She’s your future, not me. She’s the one you chose.”

“Why are you doing this?” He was sitting up now. 

“Because, it’s time. Can’t you feel it? Everything is all messed up,” You explained, voice breaking more with every word, “Because I love you, and I have no right to love you. I have no right to want to keep you in my bed with me. I have no right to you at all. She does, and she’s waiting at home for you. You’re shipping out tomorrow and you’re here with me instead. It’s not fair to her, or to me, or to you. I can’t ask you to do this anymore.”

“I could-”

“No, you wouldn’t leave her,” You interrupted him, “Because you’re a good man, Roo. That’s the problem. You’re too good of a man and I’m asking you to be something other than that. I won’t pull you down anymore. I can’t live with myself.”

He was standing now, naked as the day he was born. She wanted to memorize the way he looked. How he sounded, the way his touch felt. She wanted to remember all of it. Because, if nothing else she could at least have the memories. 

“I love you,” He whispered to her, “I love you so damn much. If you had just said the word.”

“I know,” She cried softly, her head resting against his chest, “I was too scared, and then it was too late. I knew the second you fell in love with her was the second I lost you.”

“What can I do?” He asked, smoothing your hair down, “How do I fix this?”

She shook her head, wrapping her arms around him one last time, “You can’t fix it, Roo. You know I’m right.”

He sighed again, “I wish things were different.” 

“So do I. But they aren’t.”

And so the afterglow was over. You watched as he slowly picked up his clothes and slid them back on. You helped him fix his hair, just like you always did. Your touches lingered though, both of you knowing this would be the very last time. There wouldn’t be another moment like this. He would go home to his fiancee for one more night before a brief deployment, and you would start packing so you could move back across the country. 

You needed to be as far away from him as you could. You couldn’t imagine still being in the same town as him and know that you could never touch him again. That you couldn’t kiss him or have him hold you. You would miss this, but you needed to be the better woman. You couldn’t be the other woman anymore. 

“Stay safe,” You whispered, peering up at him again, “I love you.”

His forehead dropped to yours, “I love you, so much, too much.”

“I know,” You replied softly, “Be good to her, Rooster. Please.”

“Be good to yourself,” He begged, “Will you- will you let me know when you’ve made it wherever you’re going?”

Your head shook, “It’s a bad idea, you know that. We need to stop all of this.”

“What if I come to find you?”

There was a bit of hope in his voice. You knew what he was implying. What if he left her for you. What if he gave up the white picket fence they were building together. What if he risked it all to come find you when he got back. 

“You can’t. You belong here, with her.”

“I wish things were different,” He said again, “They should be different.”

“They should,” You agreed, finally letting yourself feel everything, “But they aren’t, and they can’t be. You belong here, and I don’t. It’s time I go find where I belong, Roo.”

He kissed you. Every ounce of emotion seemed to be caught in the kiss. You could taste your tears on his lips. For a moment you wondered if he was crying too. But Rooster didn’t cry. You clutched onto him, hating the fact that you would have to let go eventually. 

Because you would let go, and when you did he would walk out of your door and you’d never see him again. Just knowing that broke your heart into more pieces than you could ever put back together. He would take some of those pieces with him. 

As much as you wished it wasn’t true, he would always have pieces of your heart. He was the first and only man you loved. He knew you better than you knew yourself. Just like you knew him….just like he loved you. Because he did love you. You had to remind yourself, he loved you, but he needed to love her more. 

“You need to go.”

“Not yet,” he replied, “Just a few more minutes.”

Maybe those few extra minutes could last you a lifetime, “Just a few more.”

[hazbin-fanfiction]

Death Days

Huskerdust

TLDR; Sinners bodies go through the pain of their death every year, on the day they died. And today is Husk’s turn on a pain mobile. Husk was never one to openly give up information about himself, not unless forced to by Alastor. So, even as the hotel’s guests and patrons became closer, Husk was still fairly unknown to those other then Angel, and his boss. Speaking of the spider, he was lounging across his bar and complaining of the shoots he had to do last night. “And then this fuckin guy, right? I swear to satan hes never had sex before in his li-” “You got the day off today?” Husk cut off the man before he got a little too vulgar for his tastes. Angel blinked at him a moment, before a grin pulled at his lips.

“Yeah, why? Want a free show~?” “Im not one to ask this, but. Can you just… stay?” Husk looked at the glass he was cleaning. His yellowed eyes refusing to look into the arachnids own.

Husk hated to ask for another’s help, but if Angel could ask for his, then he could do the same. He could already feel the way his body began to crumble around him, leaving first his hands to shake and be weakened. The sensations would spread across his body throughout the day, until night fell. “Like. At the hotel?” Angel asked, sipping at the strawberry martini he always drank. “With me.” Husk clarified, “Its… today.” 

His voice was grumbled under his breath, face heating up in its embarrassment as he kept his gaze off Angels. You see, it was Husk’s death day today, March 19th. Death days were one of the many punishments of a sinners afterlife. Where ones body relives the pain of its death. For some, it was a meaningless, 5 minute sharp pain in the chest, others it was reliving the worst torture one could imagine. And Husk? Husk was considerably lucky in this department. For he died in his sleep. He felt nothing, except the crippling loneliness, and his body’s pain of aging. It wa selfish, really. Asking anyone else to just throw away a day off to take care of an old man. But he didn't want to go through this alone again. “Today? Whats to- Oh.” Angel’s eyes widened as he realized what Husk was getting at, he reached a hand over to the bartender, and his face pulled into a soft smile. “Yeah, course I can Whiskers. Anything for you.” Husk looked at the hand held out to him, and smiled faintly as he took it in his own. ~~ And stay he did, helping Husk wherever he could. He even took over the bar when Husk’s hands started shaking to much to hold a liquor bottle, and helped him upstairs when the other struggled to walk due to hip pain. An arm thrown across his shoulders, and gentle touches all around. Which lead us to now, with Angel laying across Husk’s bed, the cat laying across him and cuddled into his warmth. “Ya know. I don’t let people just lay on top’a me that often.” he started to joke, looking down as Husk looked up. Angel smiled softly. Husk’s ears were tilted back, pupils blown out of his eyes as Angels multiple hands pet at his head and back. Low, loud purrs emitted from his chest, and Angel could feel its gentle waves on his stomach and chest. He tilted his head into Angel’s hand. “That mean im special?” Husk asked, his voice a bare mumble. He had been struggling to eloquently talk since 5pm rolled around. “To me you are.” Angel leaned forward, tapping his nose against the others. “Sap.” “Says the one who came up with an entire song and dance routine to cheer me up.” “I thought we weren’t gonna mention that… that again.” Husk muttered, his head going back to being buried in the soft fur that adored Angel’s chest. Angel laughed softly, “You said not to mention it to the others. Its just us here baby~” “Hmmm.” Angel kept his gaze on Husk. his hands focusing their scritches on Husk’s head and ears. Earning louder and louder purrs from the stoic man on top of him. He felt honored, really. Death days were something that a lot of sinners kept private. They were at their weakest points then, and it would be so easy to take advantage of them. The fact Husk not only trusted him, but ASKED for his help, sent Angel over the moon. Silently, he counted the mans breaths. Watching his back rise and fall in a slow, rhythmic pattern. As the purrs quieted down, Angel’s smile tightened. He knew Husk would be fine, logically. But seeing the man like this hurt him in ways that truly and deeply scared him. Husk’s breathing began to slow, and the man shifted uncomfortably on top of him.  “Ssh… I got ya. Your okay. Your safe with me.” Angel said softly, running his hands through the others fur. Husk settled down, The gentle purrs that echoed in Angels ears started to get softer and softer.

Angel wrapped his arms firmly around the other, “I promise, your safe right now.” The words spoke in a whisper so soft that feathers would feel like rusted steel in comparison. “Thank you for trusting me.”

Husk’s breaths got so much weaker. His chest could barely rise on its own, the purring stopping completely. Angels own breath hitched, tears filling irrational eyes.

“I love you.” Angel squeezed Husk a little tighter, and the mans last breath brushed past Angel’s fur.

[thefrogdalorian]

Dincember Day 14: Home

Word Count: 838 Rating: General Summary: During a moment cuddling with Din underneath the festive lights in your cabin, Din confides in you what home means to him. Content Warnings: None, just fluff! Author's Note: This was very soft and shamelessly inspired by the song that goes like Alabama Arkansas... you know the one. Anyway don't google what happened to that band after the song! Ruined it a bit for me, but I hope you enjoyed this one!

Link to read on AO3 | My Dincember Masterlist

You let out a soft, contented sigh as you felt Din’s curls tickle your chin and nose slightly. A warmth spread through your chest at how safe you felt with him lying in your arms, his head resting against your chest. The two of you were cuddling underneath the twinkling multi-coloured lights that had been strung up at Din's insistence – despite your scepticism – inside your cabin on Nevarro. You had been right to trust him, though. The lights inside the cabin were a revelation, meaning you could enjoy the lights as you shared such tender moments as this.

“What’s on your mind, cyare?” Din asked softly, turning his head and tilting his chin up so he could look at you with the warm brown eyes you loved so much, eyes that were glimmering in the light. His inviting lips were curled into a small smile. He looked so handsome that sometimes you could not believe you had struck so lucky because the man you had fallen for, long before you had ever seen his face, happened to be just as breathtaking underneath the helmet. His looks more than matched his personality; Din Djarin was stunning in every way.

“Just thinking about how lucky I am to have you, to have this home that we’re creating together,” You sighed again contentedly, basking in the glow of the moment. “You’re everything to me, Din.”

You noticed the impact your words had on Din immediately. The way he closed his eyes softly and the lines between his brow became more pronounced as he frowned slightly, lips now curved downwards as he swallowed thickly against the emotions that your words had provoked in him.

“You know, I lost my home twice before. The first time, when I was a boy on Aq Vetina and lost everything. The second time, when the Razor Crest was destroyed. Everything I had worked for, my entire life… gone in an instant. I really had nothing, not even Grogu. He was gone, I thought I would never see him again…” Din finished, the pain evident in his voice as it cracked under the gravity of recalling such agonising memories. 

“Din…” You whispered, looking at him concernedly, trying to convey to him that he did not need to relive the past, that things were different now. You and Grogu were never going to leave him.

“It’s okay, cyare, I know those days are gone,” Din nodded reassuringly, showing that he understood your concern for him. “Now, I have no fear. If something happened and I ever lost this place, I would of course miss it, I have grown to love it here. But I would still have a home.”

You looked at him questioningly, not following his train of thought. Din’s apparent lack of attachment to this cabin confused you, too. You had only been talking about how much you both loved this space a few short hours ago.

“I love living here, I love that you love it too. Plus, Grogu seems happy and settled here,” Din explained. “Don’t get me wrong, I would never want to lose this place. But I don’t fear it. Do you know why?”

You shook your head slowly, still intrigued by what was going on in that curious mind of his. 

In response, Din reached up to take your face in his large hand, stroking your cheek softly. The tenderness of his actions almost made you want to cry, but the words he whispered meant you definitely lost your battle against tears: “Now I don’t need to fear ever losing my home again, because home is wherever I’m with you.”

“Din…” You breathed, as his thumb reached out to catch the stray moisture on your cheeks.

“I love you,” Din said as he closed the distance between the two of you, propping himself up on the couch so he could capture your lips softly with his. The kiss was so brief and light that it left you yearning for more, yet was perfectly appropriate for the emotion of the moment. Din rested his forehead against yours and looked into your eyes fondly. Then, he whispered a phrase you had not heard before: “Ner yaim.”

His warm breath washed over your lips as he whispered the words so reverently, almost as if in prayer. You recognised the first half of the phrase, your knowledge of Mando’a still rudimentary but improving under Din’s guidance, so you understood he was calling you ‘my’ something. But the latter half of the sentence lay beyond your linguistic capabilities.

You opened your mouth as if to question Din about the meaning of the phrase he had just whispered to you. But before you could speak, Din leaned in to capture your lips again. It was another delicate kiss that left you aching for more, which you were sure was to come. Except this time when Din pulled back from you, he pressed his forehead to yours and whispered the words in basic for your benefit: “My home.”

[earlgreytea68]

i dont actually know the general consensus on I Am My Own Muse but to me it very clearly feels like pete addressing the fans directly - almost like a conversation? like the opening lines "here i am not sure you should take a chance. I like playing dumb letting you figure me out" basically completely summarises petes relationship with us during the early parts of this era. His uncertainty coming back but also the way he likes to keep us on our toes (like hes always done). His constant surprise that even one person appreciates his art. His odd fourth-wall-esque relationship w us - he always knows more than he lets on. like. these are crazy opening lines.

Especially looking at other songs petes addressed to us (namely thriller and our laywer). Those songs still feel like petes putting on a persona for our benefit. Hes talking to us through the mask he thinks we'll like best - but for his benefit not ours. In those songs he still wants to show his appreciation for the fans but hes afraid to be vulnerable about it. He hides behind tongue and cheek self deprecation (put this record down, we are bad news, we're only good to have almost famous friends... that whole song tbh) or like implication of rejection/disaster (we r not making an acceptance speech, car crash hearts, only thing i havent done yet is die) and its all glitz and distraction bc thats what he does. he will tell us their hearts beat for the diehards but not before telling us why its a bad idea. its defensive from the get go but in Muse he doesnt do that. yes he defends himself but his tone is balanced between resigned and resolute. its stripped down to just his own thoughts voiced aloud. it feels so much more genuine despite how much vaguer in address it is.

Also the general theme of this song is feeling hidden/secret (e.g. the angels didnt know his name, him feeling faded, feelings were tucked away) but trying to draw attention anyway(throw the year away, smash all the guitars, drop a bomb on things we care about) even if its hard/painful (twist the knife again, trying to keep it together).

This coupled with the title is a perfect representation of his journey as an artist in this era no? The vulnerability hidden in old songs and spoken word poems that he relives each night of the tour. An amalgamation of every little moment he created and tucked away is reborn on stage. And who has he shared this particular journey with??? The fans. It was us who he finally trusted with his works and words in the shows and we sang them back at him. Patricks journey alongside pete has felt more obvious bc of his whole demeanour but its pete who wrote his heart out to us. I think this song is a way of pete kinda of juggling this idea in his head before it ever took shape in thw real world. A way of connecting back with his audience. Not as an act of nostalgia but as moving on together. its a gorgeous song and it feels like a love letter to us in the very oarticular way a love letter from pete wentz feels like. its not soft or even sweet but it leaves you feeling comforted and stronger anyway. its solidarity yk.

ANYWAYS thats my ramble for today hope it was worthwhile <33 i really had to get that one out otherwise i may have exploded. can you tell smfs as an album and an era is my baby. sorry this is such a long one lol. hope you r having a great day :)

Awwww I *love* this. I *adore* "I Am My Own Muse" and I always have and I love everything you say about it. To write a song that sounds like that and then call it so deliberately "I Am My Own Muse," like, that we are there and ever-present but in the end he's got to come from his own authentic place. And it's like his instinct is to play a little coy and not be so vulnerable, but also he just wants to scream so someone hears him: Smash all the guitars 'til we see all the stars, like, he's screaming so that we will all see. He's trying so hard to keep it together, keep it together, so smash all the guitars 'til we see all the stars, because we are all in it together, and throw the whole year away and start fresh.

Look, i am Peterick all the way, we all know, and I think I've even used lyrics from this song in a Peterick fic, but in my secret heart of hearts, if you really ask me to be serious, what do I think Pete Wentz is writing about........I kinda think he's always writing about us.

[takami-rising]

tempore pluvarium: part i ☀︎

tempore pluvarium

➳ at the time of the rains

character: rengoku kyojuro x reader notes: aah so this is my first proper fic, i poured my heart soul into this i really hope you'll like it!! part ii is in the works, i promise it will have more plot genre: fluff with sugar on top and a speck of angst warnings: canon typical violence, but nothing too graphic ambience: rain (yt) | music (spotify) (play simultaneously for the ultimate reading experience) preview: You’re beautiful. He’s always thought so, that you belong there, amongst blossoming trees and their dew dropped leaves, harmonizing with the gentle breeze. The rising sun tries to compete with the tranquil your presence brings, but ultimately it fails.

Rain pours horribly that afternoon when Kyojuro finds you scurrying down the main street, geta grinding against soaked gravel, dirt staining the pristine white of your tabi. The sight is quite endearing, so out of your perceived character to have put yourself in this rather reckless predicament. A side of you he has not witnessed much of. The downpour is unforgiving, your lovely silk komon sure to be ruined at this rate, no matter how the magenta lilac littered across the fabric seem to bloom in color by the skies' gift.

You nearly trip and fall when the wet drops no longer stain your skin with their awful cold and you look up to find the man smiling down at you from under his haori held high. His eyes flicker like fires in the night, even in this dreadful weather, the orange glow showering you with an illusion of warmth. Or perhaps this sensation is merely an afterthought of how your pulse suddenly gallops.

Still, you utter his name with thankful relief. "Rengoku-san..."

The aroma of cedar embar mix with the fresh air is near intoxicating as you settle in by his side, transports you to another time and place, empties your mind of worries that weigh heavy. You nearly forget about the medicinal herb that had willed you into town before anything else, a soft pat to your erireassuring that it is indeed tucked neatly between the folded fabrics.

Your poor father had awoken in a terrible pain, clinging to his missing leg as if it were still there. How awful it is to relive the day of his accident, too young to have understood back then that all you could do was cry when he returned home without the lower limb. It never did heal how it was supposed to despite the doctor's efforts and now he suffers daily. Humid days are always the worst. A run to town was the least you could do to not feel as helpless as that night.

Kyojuro laughs a little when you call yourself foolish for trying to outrun the rain without an umbrella, especially when the skies have been idling all day, but quickly draws attention to the fact that he had tried to beat the very same disadvantageous odds. The world stops when a soft snicker sneaks past your lips as well, delicate hand lifting to hide the extent of your grin.

He hears you sing sometimes in the woods, soft melodies that lifts through the air like bird’s song while your little sister skips at your side. There’s a small basket on your arm, your fingertips hovering, searching for fruit and vegetables to pick. You’re beautiful. He has always thought so, that you belong there, amongst blossoming trees and their dew dropped leaves, harmonizing with the gentle breeze. The rising sun tries to compete with the tranquil your presence brings, but ultimately it fails.

His heart hammers against his chest like it wants to break free.

Your eyes glance up and meet his for a fleeting moment before darting past him. You do hope his haori is not ruined.

The roads always start to look the same after a short while. It becomes so easy to get lost in your surroundings, leaves that flutter by, imitating butterflies as they ride the wind in a playful chase for one another. You invite the blonde to stay for tea once you pass the threshold to your father's estate, insist on it, at least until the rain subsides. Kyojuro escorts you to the door, doesn't lower his arms before you are safe from the drops on the engawa. You will not have it on your conscience lest he falls ill, but he is quick to decline, insists that the rain does little to bother him and he does not wish to impose. In truth, he is not entirely convinced his heart can spend another moment at your side without bursting.

You offer him an umbrella, your brother's, you can only roll your eyes at the thought of how he will inevitably chew you out later, but the gesture is justified. Kyojuro is a gentleman and you are certain he would have provided any other with the same kindness he has shown you with no thought for reciprocation. It feels only fair in your heart that his act of chilvalry is rewarded. You stand firm before he can express his gratitude, that he may return the umbrella once he invited back for dinner. You will send a letter.

He bows before taking his leave. “I shall await it with idle.”

Every meal can be appreciated once you have faced death on an empty stomach. When you've walked endless miles as your limbs quiver from a hunger that's wrenching its way through your guts like acid. It alters your heartbeat, makes you want to drop on your knees to shove dirt down your throat, just to fill your stomach with something. Kyojuro treats every meal like it may be his last; he never knows when it might be. You haved prepared his dinner this evening with such careful love he soars from the very first bite. An ecstasy that spreads throughout his body, seeps into his bones and fills him to the brim with a symphony of flavors. Words don't come easy, but your eyes gleam so wonderfully as you offer him yet another taste. They're like fireflies, your eyes, vibrating.

Your mother finds him... eccentric. But he is kind and honorable. His laugh is loud from the depths of his belly, yet patience shines through when your baby sister becomes enamored by the vermillion in his hair. It's like flames, she exlcaims and simply must how him the kanzashi pin she owns in the very same shade. He tells a tale of a fire wielding prince, travelling the world for his father's accept to one day rule the kingdom, with dragons and spiritual beings, but only once the prince looks inside himself will he find what he is truly looking for. Your sister eats it up with wide eyes. Kyojuro treats your family like equals despite the debt you owe his and he looks at you with such rapid falling adoration, your mother can only have nothing to object when you return his gaze.

Your encounters with Kyojuro are frequent, they always have been. He appears in uniform and over the years, it became rarer to see him out of it. Black, darkness smothers it, seams that have been ripped apart and stitched back together. You do not recognize the fabric, but it is clear that it has been recycled and repurposed time and time again. The texture is rough the time your hand brushes by his wrist, heavy against his broad frame, unlike anything you have come across in the shops. You've searched in quiet curiosity, cannot quite fathom what work could require such an attire, but the burden must be so heavy, lonely. Yet, you do not ask about the scars that paint his complexion nor the time he returned through town with a broken arm. You do not need to question the hardened skin as your fingertips trace lines in his palms to know that he sacrifices a part of himself that can never be regained.

He escorts you along the riverbank when you go to retrieve water, breath stuck in his throat as your arm curl under his, your form pressed to his side. It slows his steps to an amble walk in the hopes that you'll follow his attempt to savor each other for just that of a while longer. Sometimes your index finger draws absent patterns into his bicep while you comment how busy the water seem this morning. Perhaps it's eager to bathe in the lasting colors of the sunrise.

He misses your warmth when you stop to kneel by the stream, gazing at the cloud's reflection in the river. You declare it a crime to disturb such a scenic picture. Natural and untouched by man and here you are trying to take a piece of it home. A guilty part of you quietly wishes you could do so.

"I would hang it by my bed, I think," you muse.

The tasuki sash keeps your sleeves locked as you dip the wooden bucket in the river, hands still careful not to dirty too much of your kimono. Your face drops, almost disappointed that sky isn't painted in the liquid water anymore.

Your voice bears trace of melancholy. "But I suppose there would not be much reason to come here other than drudgery could I look at it every day without effort."

Sparrows gather curiously, skittish at first but a hop in their step once your chore has been put aside. They almost welcome your company. Kyojuro finds himself near convinced that you may very well be the reincarnation of a spirit in this forest until you reach into your sleeve and retrieve a small pouch of sunflower seeds to empty in your palm. The tiny birds are simply acclimated to your song and the soft, carefree giggles that break up your melody. He joins you on his knees and you take his open palm, gently like he's sculpted from the finest porcelain money could buy, to drop the remaining seeds. You take great joy in watching the skittish chicks peck at his hands with caution. He captures the height of your smile, your touch imprinted on his wrist, engraving your very presence onto himself. The birds twitter and chirp.

"They think you are kind," he says.

You cannot help the airy laugh that leaves your lips. "I'm sure they do."

Kyojuro allows himself the silent pleasure of resting his hand upon yours the way back to your estate, fingertips lingering before you slide from his side. He's not sure you even realize, but it's enough to keep the fluttering in the pit of his stomach all the way home.

There are days where he pulls himself away from you, from the world. Blood stains his uniform on those days. Your gaze longs for him but he keeps his eyes locked to the sky, talks heartily of the clouds and their shapes, muses on the stories they tell. If you did not know him any better you would think nothing wrong. But his voice is thick in his throat, swallows like shards of glass that tear his vocal cords apart. He does not even attempt to reach for the lunch wrapped in your furoshiki, fingers restless against the blanket he so politely unfolded for the both of you on the grass. He remains court and genteel as ever, but even his voice wavers when his thoughts can't seem to keep up, catches him off guard as he apologizes for fumbling his words.

You utter his given name for the first time then. It slips out unconsciously the way you've chanted it in your head so many times. Dripping with a love that scours every crevice of his soul for an opening to pour it into. It beckons him within your embrace, eyes wet and glossy as he searches for your touch, presses himself against you with caution. He does not always trust you to be real, worries that some deep, dark part of him has fragmented you in his mind in order to cope. One wrong move and you may shatter, vanish from before him in a cruel nightmare.

A gentle breeze gives him the final push and he collapses into you. Face buried in the fabrics of your kimono, limbs curling up with a strained tremble as the sound of your steady heartbeat and the vibrations your quiet hum carries to your chest, finally coaxes him over the edge. His arms move around you, hands nearly tearing apart the knot of your obi.

You hold him, cradle his head to your chest as the world disappears from around you.

Kyojuro told you keep your eyes looking forward. Grabbed your shoulders and pleaded with you to perservere, a promise that he would nurture the wound on your soul if it did not heal. Such big words from such a small boy. You had felt even smaller in his embrace, crumbled and shivering against his form. He bore a sword on his hip even then, naive and barely adolescent.

The night had been so early. You only snuck out with the innocent want to see the fireflies They were always so pretty as they flickered and soared, illuminated in the moonlight. You hadn't meant to leave the door open, only managed to sense the hunched over beast sneaking into your home out of the corner of your eyes. Your father convinced you later it had been a rabid dog, but you are sure your fragile mind would have believed anything.

By the time your young wit realized the ominous presence, it was already too late.

All you remember is the nauseating fear, the bile gathering in the back of your throat before you are dragged away. Calloused hands gripping yours, the locks of gold and crimson that obscured your view. Kyojuro had you tucked away in a corner of the house. Ordered by his father to keep an eye on you until help could arrive, draped in his cloak of fire and flames, katana stained with the blood of the beast that had infiltrated your home that night. He'd comforted you to the best of his ability, as much as a stranger could, a child no less, but the tortured screams of your father as they had to tend to his mangled leg immediately sent you into a frenzy, buried your face in the older boy's chest in the hopes of muffling the ghastly sounds. Kyojuro covered your ears, eyes alight like guiding candles drawing you towards their everglowing flame, into his warmth. You wished so earnestly to stay in his arms for eternity.

Gratitude of his close proximity grew up with you. A small detour to the river or town and you may pass the gates to the Rengoku estate, locks of flaming hair and deep laughs glimpsed through the corner of your eye, settling a blossoming comfort in your chest.

The image of that night still haunts you to this day, the memory eating away at your very essence, physique heavy and paralyzed as you lay sunken in the softness of your futon unable to find sleep, just waiting for it to wither away with the night.

It's inadvertent how your arms clutch his collapsed form tighter, soaked in the warm rays of the sun in this absent clearing of the woods, secluded and hidden like it had appeared just for two of you. Hands brushing through the forest of his unruly tresses as you urge him not to be so strong. You won't tell. Voice soft and hushed, only for him, you sing a lullaby to cleanse his being of malice. It becomes your little secret, that he spills tears wrapped in your embrace, tongue-tied and voiceless while his mortal soul bleeds.

Kyojuro is ever aware of the things in life that are beyond his control. Wheels in constant motion, there is no need to dwell on them. But, it still manages to put a stagger in his movements when one day his eager tsugoku asks if he plans to pledge his devotion to you soon.

It stems from how he had tucked a finely sculptured hair pain in between your locks. Your sister's grave fascination with Mitsuri's hair enough of a distraction he needed. Of course, he did not disclose how the kanzashi has been carried in his sleeve for three days now, on the account that an opportunity may present itself. He simply thought the color complimented your eyes, petals and pearls like waterfall against your shimmering strands. Your fingertips touch the delicate jewelry with care as you tell him how lovely it is, a wonderful shade of pink adonishing your cheeks.

He offers to wait for you, eyes of amber follow you through the shop as you check off the items on your list. Your sister catch sight of recently stocked honey and hangs off your arm, asking to make castella with stars in her eyes. How can you possibly refuse?

Denying his love for you is futile. You enflame his heart with passion. A yearning that spreads all the way into his fingertips, twitching for the chance to grace your skin. You are softer than the finest silk. Minutes with you are infitnite and he wants to spend each one pouring his soul into you like you're the very essence of his existence. He loves you. He loves you, he loves you, he loves you. But, some deep, dark part of him accepts that he is bound to lose you.

Misturi leans close to his ear. "Master, they must be a beautiful soul to have your affection. Do not doubt yourself."

Kyojuro escorts you home. There is no doubt he is a swordsman when he brings your hands between his tightly, wants to memorize each bend of your knuckles before he has to let you go once again, with rough palms but a touch so gentle your heart jumps in your throat. He places a small pouch in your palm, closing your grip around it as he tells you with grave intent to keep it on your person at all times. It may soothe him more than you, but his eyes are pleading. The finely embroidered wisteria flower in the fabric a promise to protect you when he cannot.

next part

[aceseonghwa]

ateez in arlington: a messy and emotional review

july 31, 2024.

okay. so. honestly, i don't even know where to begin.

a few days ago (july 28) i saw ateez at globe life field in arlington, texas, for the first time. having been a fan since september 2022, this was truly a long time coming and a HUGE dream of mine. i wasn't able to make it to their break the wall tour, so i kept the next one in mind and prayed that the stars would align and i'd be lucky enough to make it to this one. the stars did align, and i'm so glad they did, because i had the greatest night of my life.

i knew from the first ateez performance that i ever watched that i wanted to see them live. their energy and stage presence has always been so powerful, and even when i was just watching them in the comfort of my bedroom, i could feel it, as if i was there. this will come as no surprise to y'all but ateez are absolutely -- somehow -- even BETTER in person!

one thing that i have always loved about ateez is their emphasis on and appreciation for theatrics. the props and the set design were amazing, and i love how much it felt like we were actually in another universe. it really did feel like i was somewhere in world z, enjoying a thrilling concert, even though emotions and music are forbidden. ateez are incredible actors too. there were so many moments where certain members would be running around the stage with fearful expressions as guards hunted them down. it was literally breath-taking and felt like i was watching musical theater and not a kpop concert. i feel like with other groups, it's always a missed opportunity to not include elements from their lore into their stages, especially when the lore is genuinely cool and interesting. i really appreciate the fact that ateez concerts are so immersive. and anther thing that i love is that ateez do not just get up there and sing and dance, they perform. they have lyrics about oppression, being silenced, revolution, etc, and they really show the pain and the fear through facial expressions and gestures. ateez clearly think a lot about how to VISUALLY show you their story and it's truly just next level.

of course, the actual performances were just unforgettable. every positive thing that you've ever heard about ateez's stage presence is very true. i already knew these guys were one of the best, but seriously, they are truly in a league of their own. i haven't been to many concerts so maybe it's unfair of me to say this but i don't know if any other concert can top this one. aside from whatever ateez themselves do next, because at this point, i'm convinced their only competition is themselves. hearing their songs live was everything. ateez truly command that stage. i couldn't take my eyes off of them and i never wanted to. i was so absorbed and mesmorized. the concert was two hours and it flew by.

i sincerely wish i could relive this night over and over again. next tour, i will definitely be seeing them again.

okay... the end LMAO.

[real-reulbbr-band]

Since I can never get enough of them, would you happen to have any more spare Demeter/Alonzo thoughts? Anything really - angst or fluff or anything in between ^_^

OH my god thank you for this, perfectly good I'm always thinking about them to!!

Fluff:

For Alonzo, Demeter is like a siren in the Jellicle Choir; he can hear her singing voice so clearly in each melody and note without having to listen out for it. Her voice was distinctive; it was honeyed, silky, and soothing to the ears. He feels content whenever he hears it; it fills him with so many emotions: comfort, nostalgia, and a longing to bring her closer, hold her tighter, and treasure her. 

A particular moment of significance for him was hearing her sing lullabies to Jemima. Her voice was softer and quieter. As if she herself was still afraid, afraid Macavity might hear, like he was still there, but she remained so focused and dedicated that he couldn't help but admire her more. 

Despite that, he never requested for her to sing. He thought that would ruin the authenticity of it all. It felt stupid to ask; remembering titles was out of the question, and the lyrics seemed to blur together for him. He did remember the melodies; however, Demeter seemed to never sing the same song twice. He did wonder how she knew so many, or if she would make them all up on the spot. 

The one-time Alonzo did remember the lyrics clearly was the morning after the ball. They were alone again in the emptiness of their den while Demeter examined him for any serious damages after his fight with Macavity. He was still indignant but was just trying to force himself to sleep. It wouldn't have worked; he would've stared at the cloth that made up their roof all day and thought of what more he could've done, and Demeter knew that. Funnily enough, when she laid by his side and sang, it was the first time he'd ever heard a lullaby directed towards him.

Angst:

Alonzo told Demeter his third name, only her, and generally that’s seen as extremely  taboo in the tribe. Not in an ostracized way, but more cursing yourself for misfortunes; that’s why it needs to remain secret between a jellicle and the everlasting cat. By telling it to another, you placed them above the everlasting cat in your heart and mind.

But Demeter made the same mistake before; she told Macavity and lived to regret it. To be fair to her, she was pushed to show her commitment to him and to him alone. Macavity was possessive like that; he needed to be the one she held above all else; it was the only way he felt secure that she wouldn’t ever leave or love another. 

She told him hers, but he couldn’t bring himself to share his own. He just held her, and that was enough in the moment. Looking back, she wished she had confronted him or said anything about it. She figured he would, in time, but he never did. It felt as if she were beneath him.

It was a pain and a choice she’s only ever confessed to having done with Alonzo; she didn’t want to relive that moment or that awful memory beyond that. But when Alonzo told her his own after, she informed him he shouldn’t have—it felt wrong to know, she didn’t want to know—he upset her when that was far from his intention and he hated himself for it. 

His love for Demeter was his strength and his undoing in that way- he was always so reckless when it came to her.

Demeter did tell him hers after she calmed down again: she wanted them to be equals; she didn’t want to be above someone she had learned to love again for.

shorter one:

Demeter is quite literally an ice cube when it comes to weather reacting with her fur; she doesn’t get cold easily, but when she does, Alonzo is typically the first to notice. With him being a longhair cat, he’s almost always warm, so when winter comes, Demeter is more often cuddled up with Alonzo. She doesn’t say anything, though; she doesn’t need to. She normally just leans into him; Alonzo won’t admit it, but the chill does shock him sometimes, but it’s also so soothing

Honestly ever since I saw your post of sillabub being their kitten that has been my canon for them, so I do have some head canons based on that: (All Baby!bub btw)

Alonzo’s never been around newborn kittens often enough before joining the junkyard to be aware of their habits, so whenever Sillabub would waddle around and suddenly fall on her back, he’d panic and sometimes scoop her up to make sure she wasn’t hurt, only to discover she was completely fine. He saw her as almost “too fragile,” which wasn’t completely irrational; she was born earlier than expected and needed additional attention compared to the average kit. But to Alonzo, it was like she was made of glass.

So much so that while she was still small, he preferred holding her by the scruff or in his arms rather than letting her follow along.

Ironically, this birthed a rather cheeky habit in Sillabub; she would often bap her dad's spots whenever he was holding her for a longer period of time. The spots weren't completely noticeable from a distance, but they were there—small black spots throughout a bronze and brown coat. Even when she woke up in his arms, she’d often bang him awake. 

Alonzo didn’t understand how or why this became a habit, but at most he didn’t mind; he’d pretend her soft little paw would make any impact on him, often with a louder gasp of indignation that would make Sillabub giggle (and bap him again). 

Demeter would use this to her advantage; whenever Alonzo was particularly reluctant to get up in the morning (he always would get up; it was just slow progress), she’d often set Sillabub on his back or his stomach and let her bap away until he was wide awake again and could pick her up.

In the rare cases where Sillabub got too excited and wouldn't stop bapping her father, Demeter would make the claim that if she didn't, all his spots would fall out. Normally, Sillabub would say sorry right after, and of course she's immediately forgiven.  (Silly HC, but she thinks that's why Victoria's white.)

Sillabub, like her sister, started talking later than the typical kitten. Most of her communication was just mewing and coos. Whenever she didn’t want something, she’d show it through her actions. Like whenever her mom or dad offers her another piece of food after she’s already full. She’d often try to feed it to them instead by holding the piece in her mouth and trying to approach her parents’ muzzles. She’d normally end up tapping the food next to their mouths instead of actually feeding them. Demeter always politely declines, while Alonzo tries to encourage her to have one last piece. But Sillabub shakes her head and keeps trying; if she could talk at that stage, she’d insist her parents needed food too; they did eat; she was just too busy munching to see. 

[puppiesandnightlock]

LINK: A Robin's Song - Epilogue

A/N: i regret nothing >:)

Five Years Later

‘Deadline at 12:00 AM tonight, Kent.’ Jon fumbled with his keys, reading the email his boss had sent out and unlocking the door.

It opened to a small apartment, empty, with some photos spread around, and a framed Bachelor’s degree over the couch. 

He dropped his briefcase on the kitchen counter, briefly tripping over a child’s toy. He sighed and picked up, setting it next to the briefcase. 

The fridge was littered with pictures, a mix of hand drawn and printed ones. Jon stepped out, checking the clock on the wall before settling down on the couch. He had about an hour before he needed to go out again.

A sticky note was on his phone cover as he pulled it out and he played with it, briefly considering calling the number written on it. It was from some pink-haired guy in his chem lecture who’d given it to him a few hours ago.

He pulled it off and set it next to the picture frame holding a picture of his high school years, gaze lingering a bit too long on the figure next to him.

Where would he be now? Surely, if he had made it big, Jon would have heard his name somewhere.

He shook his head, trying to rid himself of this train of thought. But, after all, who could forget their first true love?

The phone lit up with a notification, and he swiped up, eyes brightening as he clicked on the banner.

It took him to a Q&A livestream of ROBIN, the only good thing he could remember from his last semester of high school that wasn’t tainted by memories of her, or painfully sweet scenes with the other half of his childhood.

Robin had on an oddly familiar green knit sweater and his usual green domino, and was smiling as he answered a fan’s question, a voice modulator over his normal talking voice. 

“The domino mask was originally for anonymity, although now it's more of a trademark. If I do end up going to a concert, I might reveal my real face to you guys. Thanks for the question!”

Jon’s brow was furrowed, something felt oddly out of place in a way none of it had before. Robin chatted about various new songs he’d released, and then gave a sneak peek to his new one, per the chat’s request.

“This one’s sort of a throwback to my first song, which I'm sure most of you know very well. It’s titled If Only You Knew, and it…it’s really close to my heart, for reasons I'm sure you understand.”

A message popped up in the chat, other people latching onto it and repeating it, the chat a chorus of “Tell us about Heather!”

The soft chuckle sounded painful on video, and Jon leaned into his phone curiously, wanting to know himself. This song had come out after he’d let his own unrequited feelings bleed out, covering them up with new feelings for someone who returned them, and he’d listened to it more then he’d like to admit.

The filters came off the video, including the voice modulator.

“If I'm telling this story, I'd like to tell it as myself. Not with Robin’s voice.”

Some unbridled feeling of shock and fear cause Jon to gasp aloud and drop his phone, the familiar voice, deeper now with a note of tiredness, washed over him, jolting him back to high school, back to middle school, back even to elementary and that little town he’d grown up in.

Long forgotten memories dug themselves up and flooded his brain without his consent, tears he hadn't realized he was shedding dripped from his chin as he shakily picked up the phone and stared at who he had thought was long gone from his life.

He zeroed back in as Robin’s, no, Damian’s voice recounted the journey of his music, the way every single song had come from a moment that he’d experienced, or that they’d experienced together. 

It was like reliving the whole experience through eyes that weren’t his own, tears pooling on his cheeks.

“After we…After I screwed everything over, he moved. I remember chasing after the stupid moving van and calling and calling and calling until I finally realized he blocked me.”

On-screen, he turned around and removed the domino, wiping his eyes, before plastering it back on and turning to his camera.

“I was a mess, for a little while. I won’t get into details, but it was not a fun time. I got help and stuff, and well, you guys know the rest.”

The chat was overflowing with messages, but the one that caught Jon’s eye was one that said “Do you miss him?”

It was selfish but he turned up the volume, desperate for an answer. He wanted to know as much as the rest of the fans, biting his lip until a metallic taste filled his mouth.

On screen, Damian inhaled deeply, eyes shut and voice wobbling. “In answer to Haylia_1654's question…yes. I miss him very much, and to this day I wish everything had gone much differently.”

“He was one half of my childhood, and I know that he’s doing well, as his little brother stayed close with one of mine. I wish him nothing but happiness, wherever he is and whoever he’s with.”

Jon’s chest was tight, the air being sucked out of his lungs with every little inhale.

His vision blurred, and before he realized what he was doing, he was typing out words onto the screen and sending them into the live chat.

Under the little diamond ‘S’ he’d made when he was in middle school to match Damian's ‘R’, and the username Jon_Kent, were the words “I miss you too”.

Desperation filled him and he repeated the message several dozen times, watching and waiting for Damian to take notice.  

On-screen, the boy was drinking from a water bottle, and Jon silently documented the exact moment his eyes landed on the message, water spat out onto the screen as his whited-out eyes moved from side to side, re-reading the messages until the rest of the frantic chat covered them up.

“Oh my God, oh my God, please, please, please-” A flash of green knocked the phone to the floor and the last the world saw of “Robin” that day were the black tennis shoes he was wearing, stream cutting off as the camera hit the floor.

Heart pounding in his chest, Jon clicked on the profile, finger hovering over the message button.

He had long ago unblocked Damian’s old number, only to find that it was no longer in service. 

Logically, this was the only way that they could get in contact. And he wanted to. Oh, how he wanted to, wished for best friend back, the now-stranger who knew all his secrets.

He trembled in his seat, clicking the button and watching the words telling him he’d started a new DM with ROBIN_Offical.

Taking a deep breath, he typed out a short message, waiting for the response bubbles to come dancing across his screen.

Jon_Kent 

Hey, D

Missed you.

ROBIN_Offical is typing…

[murfpersonalblog]

IWTV S2 Ep7 Musings - RIP Claudeleine

Here we effing go, y'all. 🤧

The coven tortured them b4 the were put on trial--W T F 😱

Yep, in the rat box--what practical PURPOSE or POINT was there to put Claudia in there to get gnawed on by feral rats, other than sick sadistic viciousness? We know Celeste & Estelle used the Mind Gift on Roget--you mean they could'n't've done that to Claudia like Santiago did on Madz? You HAD to stuff her in there? EVIL.

Daaaaang, they used a wombo-combo Mind Gift to tell her to STFU; her effing nose is bleeding!

"In all their chilling premeditation"--yep, this is why criminals should never leave diaries or use social media! 😅🤦‍♀️ And omfg they let the audience read her diaries, I can't. 🫣 And the Baby LouLou fangirls aren't in the front row this time; effing fair-weather fans! 😒

GOD the coven frikkin hamstrung them, too!? 😱 To the BONE!

"Evil of my evil," SAY IT. Claudia laughing like she finna dance in his innards. "It moved Claudia, right up on her [HAMSTRUNG] feet," I was AGHAST. If y'all don't step TF back and give my daughter room to tear his a-hole wide open!

I love how AMC changed Ghost!Claudia's legacy, cuz the diaries were all Lou had, which implied that Claudia died "hating his guts," as Daniel said in 1x7. But by regaining his memories of the Trial, AMC!Lou gets to see that Claudia actually went out DEFENDING him. The one she REALLY had beef with was Lestat. Ofc she resented Lou, but most of all she loved her Daddy Lou, and was traumatized seeing him broken like an EGG from an airplane that SHE tried her darndest to piece back together. And Lestat can't say EFF ALL, cuz he already admitted that he broke him to hurt him.

EXAAAAAAACTLYYYYYYYYY! 🗣️🗣️🗣️

(Girl we all know you ain't sorry, lol. But PREACH!)

SPITE! 😫 Lestat was being SPITEFUL. Yes, this IS his big revenge; he DGAF about Claudia, he came there for Louis, YES! Did he expect Claudia to die? No, he EXPECTED Armand to get TF up and save ALL of them. But he DID go in there ready and willing to throw Claudia under the bus to get Louis out of there.

Claudia called herself "just a roof shingle" that flew off Loustat's townhouse, as she shuffles her way back to her seat. Chile, this whole audience us dumb as a pile of bricks to not notice that she's LITERALLY hamstrung. The unbelievable pain she must be in, omg.

FACTS! 😫👏

"Took the air out of the place with that one" EMMYS WHEN 😫 "Got a lot less fun real quick" EMMYS WHENNNNNN 😫

("'RHIIISE!" Santiago's campy accents & pronunciations STAHP.) WHY ON EARTH would anyone wanna join this nasty AF coven after seeing the hypocritical effed up way y'all treat people!? Y'all shoulda just kept her hypnotized and made her say yes, which proves that y'all really didn't care if Madz joined or died anyway! She was just collateral; and I guarantee if she'd joined they'd've used her in their actual mock trial plays, making her relive her shame the same way they did with Baby LouLou.

I get that Claudia shook her head, only wanting Madz to join so she'd stay alive, but I'm with Madz--they'd've killed her for some bogus reason sooner or later. Might as well die with her companion.

😭 MY COVEN IS CLAUDIA, TOO! 😭 Claudia finally feeling like someone in the world picked her first. 😭

STFU Santiago. 😡

STFU Lestat. 😡 (I had to make a separate post for this, cuz it's both ironic AF but also wildly in-character that Lestat of all people would mock Madeleine for doing this.)

Flip them all off, yaaas! 🤬🤬🤬🤬

I was on the edge of my seat; I knew my BAMF daughter was gonna do or say SOMETHING crazy. 👀

My daughter said "Until you do right by me everything you THINK about gonna fail!" 😤 Armand said moment of defiance; PLEASE! ALL HER LIFE SHE HAD TO FIGHT!

Rest in power, Claudia! ❤️👸🏼👸🏽👸🏾❤️

My life every time a new IWTV episode airs.

That's the same flute dude AND SONG playing when Armand set that Children of Darkness/Satan vampire on fire. Execution dirge WTF 😭

The ultimate gaslight.

Not Claudia embracing Madz as she singing that effing song take me out back and end it. 💔

Look at Lestat's bish arse standing back there watching while HIS BLOOD DAUGHTER burns to ash--Mr. I Could Not Prevent It #2! The last thing she saw on earth was her deadbeat father not doing a effing thing to help her--

--but Louis leapt through FIRE and a whole burning building to save his daughter; a girl he didn't even KNOW, and already loved unconditionally! Blood ain't thicker than water, eff what ya heard! 😤

EXCUSE ME!? 😱 Santiago I hate you so much, wow.

"Tweedley deedly dead" written on the mirror in Claudia's (or Santiago's?) booth at the Theatre; you can see her yellow dress in the corner too; omg this coven is nasty. That BETTER NOT BE her ashes.

We been expected this my guy; the movie's like 30 years old and the book's 50+, be serious. But y'all did an AMAZING adaptation; adding in things I definitely didn't expect, like Claudia singing the song. 😭👌

Claudia's the GOAT. 🐐

[rispwr]

still with you - JK - SPECIAL - CH. 3

pairings : ex!jk x ex!reader, barista/producer!yoongi x reader

genre : fluff, angst

context : after finally leaving all of those memories behind and make new ones, your current partner yoongi still holds a grunge against your ex for everything he put you through. "if karma won't hit him, i will."

will jungkook get what he finally deserves?

word count:1k+ words

warnings/contents : yelling, ruining a family, cheating, exposing, rape, domestic violence, jungkook here is really mean, adultry

songs : house of balloons, swim, into it, goodluck, babe, so high, bloodline

Yoongi’s POV

I had been enjoying the tranquility of our movie night, the soft glow of the TV casting gentle shadows around the room. 

Y/N was nestled comfortably against me, and for a while, it was easy to forget the turmoil that had clouded our lives recently.

 The softness of her hair against my chin and the steady rise and fall of her breathing were comforting.

But then, out of nowhere, a question bubbled up from my mind...one I hadn't fully prepared to ask, but felt necessary. “Hey, Y/N, were there any cameras in your old apartment?”

The words slipped out before I had a chance to fully think them through. I could see her stiffen slightly, her body tensing as she processed the question. Her gaze shifted to meet mine, and I could read the confusion and trepidation in her eyes. My heart tightened; I knew this question might open up old wounds, but something inside me was demanding answers.

“Yes,” she replied, her voice barely above a whisper. “There were cameras in the living room. Why do you ask?”

Her response only deepened the weight of the moment. The living room—where everything had gone so wrong.

 My thoughts raced as I tried to gauge how much I could reveal, how to navigate this delicate conversation. 

The last thing I wanted was to cause her further pain, but I needed to understand if there was something I could do.

“I was just thinking...” I began, struggling to find the right words. “About what happened in that apartment. I know it must have been incredibly hard for you, and I was wondering if you ever saw anything on those cameras.”

Y/N’s reaction was immediate...her eyes filled with a mixture of dread and sadness. 

She looked away, and I could see the anguish in her face.

 I hated seeing her like this, but I felt a growing urgency to address the issues head-on. The fact that there were cameras meant there could be footage, footage that might shed light on what had happened.

“I didn’t really check the cameras,” she admitted, her voice trembling. “I tried to avoid thinking about it. But... I knew something was off. I just... didn’t want to confront it directly.”

The pain in her voice cut deep, and I could sense how much she had tried to protect herself from reliving those moments. I wanted to comfort her, to tell her that she wasn’t alone, but I also needed to ensure that whatever had happened, we would face it together.

“I’m sorry,” I said softly, my voice laced with genuine regret. “I didn’t mean to bring up painful memories. I just thought that if there was something we needed to do or if there was any way I could help, I should know.”

Her hand reached out to mine, and the touch was both a relief and a grounding force. I squeezed her hand gently, trying to convey my support and understanding. “Thank you for asking,” she said, her voice barely audible. “It means a lot that you care. I just don’t want to relive it, but I appreciate that you’re here for me.”

Her gratitude warmed my heart, and I felt a deep resolve to be there for her no matter what. “Of course,” I said, my voice steady. “We’ll face it together, whatever it is. If you ever want to talk about it, or if there’s anything you need, just let me know. I’m here for you.”

As she leaned into me, I could feel the weight of the world lifting slightly. 

The comfort of her presence, the shared understanding of our struggles...these things made the burden easier to bear. In this moment, I wanted nothing more than to provide her with the peace and safety she deserved.

The movie played on, but my focus was on her, on us. The past might have left its scars, but I was committed to being her rock, her support. With her nestled against me, I felt a flicker of hope. Together, we could face whatever came our way, and I was determined to make sure she knew she wasn’t alone in this fight.

awhile later.

The CCTV cameras were still connected to Y/N’s phone.

I carefully shifted to avoid waking her, my heart pounding in my chest as I reached for her phone on the nightstand. 

The screen was locked, but I knew her passcode and managed to access it with practiced ease. My fingers trembled slightly as I navigated to the CCTV app, my thoughts a jumbled mess of frustration and determination.

There it was. the live feed and recordings from the cameras in the apartment.

 I scrolled through the list of recorded videos, my eyes scanning for any sign of what I dreaded yet needed to confirm. 

Each thumbnail was a potential glimpse into a moment I had hoped never existed, and my stomach churned as I clicked through them one by one.

Finally, I found it. a video timestamped from the night of the incident. 

My heart raced as I tapped on it, the playback starting almost immediately. 

The footage was grainy, but unmistakable. Jungkook’s face was visible, and I could see the harrowing scene unfold before me. The anger and pain surged within me as I watched, confirming what I had feared all along.

I felt a surge of protective rage, but I kept my emotions in check, knowing that acting impulsively wouldn’t help Y/N. Instead, I focused on the task at hand. I needed evidence, and this video was a crucial piece of it.

 With a quick, decisive move, I sent the video to my phone, making sure it was saved and backed up securely.

As the video transferred, I felt a mix of relief and anguish.

I was finally holding the evidence that would expose Jungkook’s brutality, but the reality of what Y/N had endured weighed heavily on my heart. 

I needed to be careful with this information—how it was used, when it was revealed. But for now, I had secured it.

I placed Y/N’s phone back on the nightstand and returned to her side, carefully maneuvering back under the covers.

 I lay there, my mind still reeling from what I had seen. The footage confirmed my worst fears, and it solidified my resolve to ensure that Jungkook faced consequences for his actions.

I wrapped my arm around Y/N, feeling her warmth and softness against me.

 Despite the dark truths I had uncovered, I took comfort in the fact that she was safe here, with me. I would protect her, support her, and ensure that she received the justice she deserved.

For now, though, I focused on the present...on being here for Y/N, on offering her comfort and support. 

The battle ahead was daunting, but I was determined to fight it for her, no matter what it took. I knew that together, we could face whatever came next, and I would make sure that Y/N’s past didn’t dictate her future.

Jungkook’s POV

I was lounging in my living room, scrolling through my phone, when an anonymous email popped up.

 The subject line caught my attention: "She deserves justice." I didn’t think much of it, dismissing it as some spam or prank, but my curiosity got the better of me.

 I clicked the email and saw an attachment with a video file.

I almost didn’t want to open it, but something nagged at me.

 I clicked on the video, and as soon as it started playing, my blood ran cold. The scene in the video was unmistakable. It was my old apartment...her living room. My heart pounded in my chest as I realized what I was watching.

There I was, clearly intoxicated and aggressive. And there was Y/N, looking terrified and vulnerable.

 The image of me hurting her, of me committing the worst thing imaginable, was right there on the screen. 

My breath came in ragged gasps as the video played on.

The initial shock quickly turned to a boiling rage. “This bitch,” I muttered under my breath. “This bitch is really annoying.” The sheer audacity of the video, the way it laid bare my darkest moment, filled me with uncontrollable anger. How dare someone expose me like this?

In a fit of rage, I grabbed my phone and hurled it against the wall. The phone shattered on impact, pieces scattering across the floor. I stared at the remains of my phone, my anger morphing into guilt and frustration. How had things come to this? How had I let myself become this person?

As the sirens outside grew louder, I realized the situation was getting worse. I could hear the police approaching, their footsteps echoing in the hallway. My mind was a chaotic mess of guilt and fury.

 I felt trapped, my actions finally catching up to me in the most humiliating way possible.

I slammed my fist against the wall, trying to release the pent-up anger and shame. 

The guilt was eating me alive, but my pride and rage wouldn’t let me face it properly. I was furious at Y/N for making me confront this, at myself for being such a monster, and at the entire situation that had spiraled out of control.

As the officers knocked on the door, my anger slowly began to subside, replaced by a hollow sense of dread. I knew I couldn’t escape this. My actions had led me to this moment, and there was no way out. The video had sealed my fate, and the reality of what I had done was crashing down on me.

I opened the door to the officers, trying to compose myself. My anger was still there, but it was overshadowed by the overwhelming guilt and fear. I knew I was about to face the consequences of my actions, and the weight of it was almost too much to bear.

The reality of my situation settled in as they read me my rights and led me away.

 The anger and guilt were all-consuming, and all I could think about was how far I had fallen and how deeply I had hurt Y/N.

Yoongi’s POV

The next morning, I was sitting in my studio, trying to focus on my music, but my mind kept drifting back to the evidence I had collected. 

The gravity of what I had done hit me in waves, but I knew it was necessary. 

I had to make sure Jungkook faced the consequences for what he did to Y/N.

I pulled up the footage and reviewed it once more, making sure everything was in order.

I had sent the video to Jungkook anonymously, but 

that wasn’t the end of it.

 I knew that exposing him wasn't enough; Ae-ri needed to be held accountable as well. I found the evidence of her involvement...how she had manipulated the situation and used the baby to deceive Jungkook.

I compiled everything into a new file and sent it to the authorities anonymously.

 The evidence clearly showed Ae-ri’s role in the deceit and her ongoing affair with another man.

I hoped this would be enough to bring her to justice too.

Ae-ri’s POV

I was at home, trying to go about my day when the sound of sirens outside grew louder.

My heart raced with a mix of anxiety and confusion.

I didn’t understand what was happening until I heard the doorbell ring, and the police entered with a warrant for my arrest.

As they explained the charges—adultery and fraud—I felt a surge of anger and disbelief. 

How had this happened?

 I was being accused of things I hadn’t done, or at least not in the way they were portraying.

 The whole situation felt like a nightmare, and I could barely process it as the officers led me away.

“This is ridiculous!” I screamed, struggling against the officers. “I knew it! His ex is so crazy! She’s gone mad!” My voice cracked with frustration and panic.

 The idea that Y/N had somehow orchestrated this, that she was behind all of this mess, was infuriating.

 I couldn’t believe that she had taken things this far, that she was willing to ruin my life out of spite.

As they escorted me to the police car, I could see the flash of cameras from reporters and the curious glances of onlookers.

 My emotions were a whirlwind of anger, betrayal, and confusion.

 I didn’t understand why things had escalated to this point, and the realization that someone had outsmarted me, someone who I considered beneath me, was hard to swallow.

I was shoved into the back of the police car, my mind racing with a hundred thoughts.

 I couldn’t escape the feeling of being trapped in a situation that spiraled out of my control. 

All I wanted was to figure out who had done this and why, but for now, I was left with the bitter reality of facing the consequences of my actions.