#mention of V and Rika

[starry-marshmallow]

This is something that’s been bothering me since I started playing mystic messenger and well I personally haven’t seen anyone discuss it.

For reference this is mainly about the Another Story and V Route timeline but it still applies to other timelines since it’s prevalent in the entire game.

Yoosung’s behavior towards Jihyun is made even more horrid considering how he admits multiple times that he doesn’t know much about Rika and V’s relationship and even Jihyun himself.

Whenever you ask him about their relationship or Rika and Jihyun as individuals, he just states that Rika was a happy person, Rika seemed happy with V, and that he doesn’t know much about Jihyun.

Despite this he’s so adamant about blaming Jihyun and suspecting him, so adamant about Rika not having mental health problems and not being “the kind of person to take her own life”.

He didn’t even know about Rika’s family and when he spoke to them himself and learned what they’re like and their thoughts on Rika. He still pulled the “V did way worse to Rika than her parents did”.

He’s speaking on a man and woman and their relationship despite not knowing much. They clearly wanted to keep certain things private and yet Yoosung does not respect or care to understand that.

And then Yoosung gets pissed when the other members step in and call him out for this shit or exclude him from certain things (e.i going to V’s house, going to rescue V and MC from Mint Eye, going to Rika’s apartment).

Saeyoung and Jumin were close to both of them and even they knew better than to cross obvious boundaries, antagonize, and harass someone whose behavior all points to a result of grieving.

There’s a clear lack of understanding of grief, mental health, and mental illness that Yoosung shows and doesn’t seem to really care to unpack which is extremely upsetting to see when you’ve been suicidal and/or lost a loved one and are grieving. Grief lives with you forever and you have to handle it in a healthy way. Yoosung doesn’t do that either.

[nebulous-tundra]

P H I L I A

Jumin spends a precious night drinking with his friend V. V tries to do the same.

[tierra-paldeana]

Flashback

Send ‘Flashback’ to see one of my muse’s old memories

☠🌏– A couple years had passed since Rika had joined the pond. She had successfully become part of her adoptive father's army, and was now a sentry and defender through and through. Although her hunting skills could use some work...

A group of Wooper sat near a big rock, talking and going about their day, while Rika hid behind it. She peeked out when they had their backs to her, staying low to the ground, eyes peeled before...

''Grrrnah!''

She pounced on one of them, being very careful not to squash her, while the other three jumped in surprise, only for all of them to laugh when they saw it was just Rika practising her pouncing.

Hahahaha! Rikaa, you scared mee!

''Nahah, sorry bud. Y'know why I do this. Papá says this helps ya guys stay alert. Don't want any of those Round-beaks or Three-claws sneakin' up on ya.''

And it helps you with your hunting, too.

Everyone raised their heads when Papá approached. Rika gently lowered the pup back on the muddy ground, petting her head. With her free hand she scratched the back of her own in thought.

''Aah, papá... Y'know I don't eat others...''

Hunting is much more than just eating, dear. The skill involved can be used for other things as well... Even if it makes me a little sad you won't eat morsels with us.

He nuzzled her arms, prompting her to lean on him in a hug.

I've always wondered... why so?

Rika rubbed her cheek and part of her face on his head, her trademark pout showing.

''I dunno, it just feels... weird. Like I'm not supposed to do it like that, yknow? N' I'm not very sure if I would like what you guys eat either... Not to mention you can just gobble 'em up whole, n' I can't do that!''

Mm... I understand. But you've seen how other Pokémon do it, right?

''Yeah, and...''

She could tolerate seeing blood and guts. But doing that herself? The thought made her equal parts queasy and conflicted. And Papá could see that on her face.

...It's okay, dear. I hope I'm not pressuring you. You're always welcome to eat anything you like with us. Just remember, your hunting training isn't only to prepare you for the day you... might do it. It's also helping you with your sentry and defending duties. Us Clods prefer to ambush, but someone fast and agile like you really benefits from having these skills.

A smile formed on his face.

Like that day you sneaked up on that Chatty-beak¹ and almost bit his tail-feathers off, heheheh.

Rika snickered as she remembered.

''Oh yeah, hehehehe! That got 'em good! They had been pesterin' the babies all day n' I got em by hidin' in the reeds...''

Papá chuckled along with her, before rubbing his snout affectionately on her side.

See? You're doing great things, Rika... I'm so proud of you. Keep it up, I believe in you.

Rika pressed her forehead against his in turn, her father's praise putting her in an extremely good mood. With his permission, she climbed on top of his back, and he slithered towards the murky waters, to ferry her to the other side of the pond.

¹clod-speak word for squawkabilly

[moon1833]

OBSESSED- Yuuta Okkotsu

“I’m sorry, I tried to be patient.”

Inc: Female reader, reader is a jujitsu sorcerer, obsessive Yuuta, mildly yandere Yuuta, reader is lowkey just as insane, smut, 18+ characters, p in v, beach sex, post resurrection sex, biting, mentions of blood

There was something so deeply different about Yuuta Okkotsu. Maybe it was how his very existence changed your entire knowledge of jujitsu sorcery, or how he carried the second most intense cursed energy you've felt in your life, you weren't sure. Maybe it had something to do with his pretty doe eyes.

When you first met Okkotsu when you were seventeen, you would've thought he was too delicate for this world. He was a sweet boy, he didn't look you in the eyes for a month when he first arrived at Jujitsu High. He baked for his classmates, and he makes you come to his dorm if he's unfortunate enough to find a bug of any sort in his room.

As you got to know him, you noticed something else, something heroic. Besides that, there was something almost deviant deep within him.

That was why you believed he would become one of the greatest sorcerers of your time; he was crazy.

It wasn't so obvious at first. Okkotsu wasn't flashy or loud, even if the cursed spirit practically leeching off of him was so powerful it was almost headache inducing.

The first time you knew he was utterly batshit, was about a year after you had met him.

Being a grade one sorcerer meant you went on almost every mission with him, not that you minded in the slightest. In this particular mission, you were coming off of a leg injury, and you probably shouldn't have been cleared as early as you had been.

There was still a small limp in your steps and your mind was a bit foggy. That, along with your minor crush on the boy beside you had completely distracted you from the giant curse breaking through the ground beneath you, catching you in your grasp.

You hardly had time to recognize it, one second you were peacefully admiring Yuuta's side profile, not a trace of cursed energy that didn't belong to you or his around you, and the next there was a thick hand grasping you to it's chest, mumbling a soft "mine, mine, mine" as it dragged you away.

In your defense, this was definitely not the second grade curse you were sent out to exercise. Even at the time, your senses told you so. You hardly had a moment to register a plan to escape the curses hold before its grip loosens, and you're falling to the ground.

The winds knocked from your lungs, but you jump to your feet quickly, ready to fight the curse before it could get to Yuuta. Instead, you're met with the sight of a limp body, chunky purple blood pouring from what looked like its head was.

It was a rat. A giant, furry, ten-foot tall rat.

To the left of it stood Yuuta, panting while facing away from you. From your position, you could see his katana drawn, blood leaking from its blade. You’re confused for a moment, Rika hadn’t been let out at all, so how could he possibly have moved that quickly?

He turns to you, the sickly innocent smile on his face that you know so well not even twitching. Your eyes flickered to his hand, only now taking notice of the fat head he's grasping by the scalp.

Yuuta always smiled at you when he saw you. Not a cheap one, either. Always, and eager, molar showing, bright grin that felt out of place in your world.

This one was a bit different. There was a small darkness lingering in his dimples, almost playfully. Like it was amusing to him that something thought it could just take you like that.

He threw the head to the side, jogging up to you to check if you were okay. His hand flew to your torso, grazing your stomach. Only then did you realized you had been bleeding there, the rat-curse's nails must've dug past your shirt and into your skin when it grabbed you.

Still, his hands on your bare torso made your heartbeat pick up, especially when his touch was so gentle.

He flushed when he realized, and your mind almost felt numb with how fast his emotions had changed in the last two minutes. It almost made you forget about how his cute, fragile persona melted away into something so sinister.

If you were any more sane than Yuuta, you would've been afraid. If you were any more sane, you wouldn't of replayed how his head tilted, how a little blood made it's way onto his face, how his knuckles tightened around the mangled head in his hands. If you were any more sane, you wouldn't have finger-fucked yourself the moment you got back to your dorm.

But, the truth was, there were no sane sorcerers, and you were no exception.

The second time you bore witness to Yuuta loosing complete control was about a full year later.

A lot had changed, but him being your mission partner didn’t. You two were taking on a curse that would usually be left to Gojo, but instead ended up in your hands.

You studied the limited information in front of you, drowning out the crowd of people on the train. Yuuta sat next to you, pretending to read the document over your shoulder while he breathed in your scent.

The case had sent you to the edge of Tokyo, seven people had gone missing under suspicion circumstances from a nearby beach.

You had theorized with Gojo about what it could be, but he was even less help than expected. It didn’t help that it was almost midnight, and you hadn’t slept in over twenty-four hours.

Yuuta must’ve sensed your drowsiness, because he took the document from your grasp, a glint of concern on his expression.

“Get some rest, we still have another hour and a half before we get there.” His voice is so clear against your ears it almost jolts you awake. Instead, you nod, letting your head lay against the seat.

When your eyes flutter close, Yuuta feels a new sense of protection overwhelming him. You trusted him enough to put yourself in a position of complete vulnerability. He widens his legs slightly, a small glare looking over the crowd.

The train hits a curve, and your head lolls uncontrollably to the side. Gently, Yuuta places his shoulder under your temple. Gladly, you nuzzle your face into him, finding a comfortable position before drifting off again.

For the next 87 minutes, he did not take his eyes off of you.

-

You yawned stepping away from the tracks, half aware of your grip on Yuuta’s sleeve. He seemed happy leading you out of the station like this, and you were too tired to object.

When the cold air hits you, there’s a slight regret in your choice of clothing. The jacket you had over your long sleeve button down did less than you had anticipated, and even your thickest tights weren’t doing much under your skirt. You were going to be freezing when you got to the water.

The sand made your balance a little wobbly as you walked, the night sky reflecting sharply against the ocean waves.

Even with the coldness racking through you, the lingering cursed energy was stronger. Whatever was here was definitely at least a grade one.

Starting your investigation, you began walking down the coast while trying to keep your skirt from drifting up.

“It’s in the ocean.” You conceded, calling back over your shoulder.

In the dark, you can see Yuuta narrow his eyes in thought. “Let’s check out the dock.”

You nod in agreement, falling into step with him. The dock went about 100 feet past the shore, but it was old and creaky.

With each step, you felt closer and closer to the curse, using your technique to form a throwing knife and letting it rest in your palm.

Suddenly, the energy increases so dramatically it almost knocks the breath out of you, and thunder cracked above your head.

You summon another knife, coming into stance as something emerges from the water. It’s hard to tell in the darkness, and for a moment you thought it was a lump of stretched out skin.

Normally, you’d like more time to assess the situation, especially when you can hardly see what you’re throwing at, but you had figured out already if the curse got you or Yuuta in the water you’d be in trouble.

You weren’t sure, but the lightening above you probably had something to do with the curse, and no bodies had been recovered.

You threw the knife, aiming to take off one of its limbs. You succeeded, the appendage falling off completely in a sickly sound.

You didn’t have time to congratulate yourself, because by the time you had realized you had hit the curse, the arm had grown back.

Behind you, the dock ripped open, a plank of wood hitting you in the back. Another arm had crashed through, a giant hole pushing you and Yuuta. He called out your name, but the blood was rushing to your ears so violently you almost couldn’t hear him.

“I’m okay!” You shouted, but before you could add anything else, something wrapped around your feet and dragged you upside down. Instead of fearing for your life, you were thankful you wore shorts under your skirt.

Now that you were practically face to face with the curse, you realized it was a giant fucking octopus. It had one eye, but it was completely black and didn’t reflect light at all. Its skin was an inky black, and it’s numerous tentacles stretched it’s rot-like scent further towards you.

From behind you, you could hear Yuuta scaling its side, his katana making repeated contact with its flesh.

You thrashed around, throwing more knives while trying to aim for its eye. The curse only seemed mildly aggravated, another tentacle wrapping around your torso and trailing up your throat.

Your head was pulsing, and your arms were pinned to your side. You could only use your technique with your hands, so your only option was to cut off its limb and fall into the electrically charged water, or let it choke you to death.

So, basically, die either way.

From the corner of your eye, you saw Yuuta jump, landing his katana in its iris and using his weight to drag it down.

The curse screamed, and that was the last thing you heard before your body slammed into the water.

You were right, the water was fucking cold. Not only, but you felt like you had fallen onto concrete, and the tentacle was still clasped around you.

You tried to pry it off, but it only constricted. You held onto hope that somehow Yuuta would get to you, since he had obviously killed the curse before you hit the water. It was dark, completely black and you couldn’t see your own body when you looked down.

Even as you sunk deeper and deeper, you didn’t doubt for a moment you would die. You couldn’t, Yuuta wouldn’t let you.

When your vision begins to fade and your legs feel blurry, the thought is only an echo in your mind.

Yuuta won’t let you die. And he doesn’t.

Not when he finally grasps you, ripping the tentacle around you into shreds with his bare hands. Not when he holds you while he swims towards the surface, ignoring how cold your flesh is. Not when you resurface, and you’re not breathing.

Yuuta’s acting before he’s thinking. He could use his reversed cursed technique, but that wouldn’t do anything about the water in your lungs. Your lips are blue. Yuuta’s beginning to panic.

He starts doing compressions, not stopping when he feels your rib break, or when he remembers how unreliable cpr is outside of a hospital.

He doesn’t stop because eventually, your upper body lurches forward, and water falls from your mouth.

His arms are around you in a second, and you momentarily think the octopus curse is still wrapped around you with how tightly he’s holding you.

Yuuta is warm, and you’re freezing. You cling to him, your body trembling as the early signs of hypothermia begin to start.

He pulls away, holding your face in his hands. There’s a look of concern you’ve seen him wear thousands of times, but it’s more crazed. More wild. For a moment, you think he’s going to kiss you, but instead be begins to heal you.

Immediately, you stop shaking, heat flooding from your face down your spine. Yuuta has used his reversed cursed technique on you more times than you can count, claiming he didn’t want to give Shoko any more work, but you never got use to how intimate it felt.

Your jacket is long removed, and your shirt is sticking to your skin. You can see your bra through the thin material, and you’re a little embarrassed when you catch his eyes lingering.

Yuuta’s in a similar state as you. His white tee shirt was soaked, and his hair was sticking to his face. You felt his forehead with your palm, frowning in concern at his temperature.

His eyes changed. God, only you would be worried about him when moments ago your heart had stopped.

Only now did he notice his position, how close your lips were to his. He couldn’t take it. That thing almost got you before he could even make you his.

“Yuu, what is it?” It was a simple question, with a complicated answer, but the nickname pushed him over the edge.

He ducks his head closer to you, breaking the distance. He felt your lips moments ago, but they were frigid and lifeless. Now, you kissed him back with such fever it would’ve knocked him off balance if he wasn’t already sitting.

He’s climbing on top of you before he can register it, and your back hits the sand. You moan into his mouth in encouragement, shifting your hips up to meet his.

“Fuck, I can’t wait.” He whimpers into your neck. “Please let me fuck you, please.”

You nod before he finishes his sentence, muttering a broken ‘god yes’ that’s interrupted by your own moan as he attaches his lips to your neck.

He keeps licking at your collarbones and you’re withering under him. You’re unsure if it has something to do with his reversal technique, but everything feels too good.

You drag his hand to your clit, forcing him to palm you through your shorts. He slides them off, cursing as they stick to your legs before diving back down, shoving your panties to the side to feel you.

His fingers are long, and they’re surprisingly soft, even with his callouses. He rubs at your clit, dragging down to collect your slick before repeating his slow circles.

Subconsciously, you grind yourself onto his hand, eager for more friction.

“I’m sorry, I tried to be patient.” He mumbles against your shoulder before thrusting his middle finger into you.

A rough groan leaves your throat, and you attach your lips to Yuuta’s neck in effort to muffle your sounds. You bit down on his skin a little too harshly, drawing a small bit of blood. Instead of wincing in pain, he whimpered into you in wild excitement, pushing his jugular closer to your incisors.

He’s finger fucking you harshly, your pussy sucking him in loudly, drowning out the crashing of the waves a few feet from you.

“Gonna cum- shit.” You try to warn, but your orgasm reaches you closer than you anticipated. Yuuta fucks you through it, your legs trembling and chest heaving.

You’re still recovering when you hear him slide his pants off, pressing kisses to your face when he lines himself up against you. He pushes your legs over his shoulders, slipping into you so easily it makes you gasp for air.

He thrusts into you slowly, each time inching into you more and more. Water falls from his hair and drips onto your face in between each stroke, and you’re singing his name.

“Love you.” He kisses your forehead. “I love you so much. I can’t loose you. I won’t. You’re everything to me.”

His words are soft, but sudden, laced with a near obsessive tone that makes you squeeze down on his dick even harder.

“I love you so much, Yuu.” He plants one last kiss to your lips before pounding so harshly into you it forces you deeper into the sand.

He keeps his pace, fucking you at an animalistic speed. His eyes are crazed, wide and focused while trying to study how your body responds to him. His lips quiver, stuttering out strings of curses that tells you he’s completely gone already, and he’s not stopping any time soon.

He cums in you, but he doesn’t let that stop him, continuing to rut into you even as he overstimulates himself. “Gonna fill you up. Fuck-I can’t stop.”

“Need it!” You cry, heavy tears falling from your cheeks. Yuuta notices immediately, licking them without a second thought.

He keeps fucking his cum into you, not stopping at the second load, or the third. Only until he behind to shoot blanks does he slow, holding your body gently as he pulls out.

“I’m sorry, was that too much?” His head is fuzzy.

“No, no.” You brush his hair out of his eyes. “Was so good, Yuuta.”

He collapses on top of you, and you draw circles on his back. You smile, watching the stars in the sky for a moment before speaking.

“How are we going to get back to campus?”

“Uh,” Yuuta thinks aloud, propping his head up. “Give me five minutes, and I’ll call Gojo.” He nuzzles his head back into your chest.

“Okay.” You giggle, kissing his head. Yuuta Okokotsu was insane, but so were you.

[veronicaphoenix]

the unmaking of a warrior | part 9

Pairing: Samurai!Noah x Princess!Reader Series masterpost here✨ Word count: 7k

Tags & trigger warnings: tiny bit of angst at the beginning, descriptions of wounds and blood, fluff, sexual content (oral sex with fem. receiving, praise kink ("good girl"), hints at noah having a breeding kink, p in v unprotected).

Please, be advised this part contains a scene involving shibari (bondage) and this might not be everybody's tea regardless of what it means for noah and his princess. I've approached it with care and love, and there's obviously consent from her side and noah is being gentle and attentive through it all, but I understand if some people are not comfortable with reader being tied up while there's sexual intercourse, hence this note.

I've also revised this very quickly, so apologies if you find any typos or mistakes.

Additional useful info: - Zabuton: cushion/pillow. - Omamori: good luck charm meaning to protect.

A wisp of smoke drifted around me, curling from the incense sticks that burned softly in the temple. 

I had lost track of time, and with that loss, some of the anguish that consumed me began to ebb away. 

Or perhaps it wasn’t quite that. Maybe it was the presence of the temple and the protective amulet in my hand that had lulled me into a fragile sense of security, a belief that everything would be okay. 

I found myself in a sort of meditative trance. It had started as a prayer, my eyes closed, my fingers wrapped around the omamori, and my lips whispering fervent invocations. The image of Noah’s bleeding chest had been almost unbearable, but now, the panic had receded, if only momentarily. My breathing had steadied, and while a deep sadness still weighed on me, the panic no longer had me in its relentless grip. 

Nearby, the elderly woman who had given me the amulet was engaged in her rituals, her presence palpable not only through the bowl of prayers she tended but also through the calming energy she radiated and I could feel even with my eyes closed. 

It had taken me a moment to recognize the old woman—it was the same one Noah and I had met earlier that morning in the dining room. Rika had mentioned that the woman and her husband were the oldest couple in the community, residing in a small house behind the temple. They spent their days watching over the community and aiding those in need. 

Though I hadn’t asked for help, at least not with words, the old woman had appeared by my side as soon as I collapsed in front of the altar. Even without exchanging a single word, I felt her presence, a silent guardian over me and, most importantly, over Noah. 

My soul and heart were not alone in their pleas to the gods for Noah and for a just resolution to the battle ocurring beyond these walls. 

The tears had long since dried on my cheeks. A breeze flowed through the open doors and expansive windows of the temple, growing stronger until it startled me, causing my heart to momentarily freeze and my voice to catch in my throat.

The fight was over.

As the wind softened into a gentle caress, I refocused on the amulet in my hand, gripping it tightly once more and resuming my prayers. 

I lost track of how much time passed while I remained there, kneeling with my hands resting in my lap. The fear that had taken root in me was so overwhelming that I didn’t notice the breeze transform into an even tenderer touch. For a fleeting moment, I felt wrapped in a cocoon of protection and calm.

But the silence was abruptly broken by a voice from the entrance to the temple behind me.

“He will live.”

The omamori slipped from my fingers as I heard Noah’s voice, a jolt of shock coursing through me. I sprang to my feet, steadying myself on trembling knees, and turned around.

There he was, not a ghost, but the man I loved, covered in blood. 

His clothes were stained and torn, with small patches of crimson on his cheeks and jaw, cuts marring his left thigh and arms, and a deep wound still oozing blood on his chest. My breath caught in my throat, and a sob escaped as I rushed to him. He let his katana fall and pulled me into his embrace, his arms wrapping around me with desperation.

I didn’t care about the dirt clinging to his clothes or the blood smeared across his skin. All I cared about was the warmth of his body against mine, the fierce reality of him being here with me. I clung to him, struggling to contain the sobs that had built up during his fight and my anxious wait in the temple. I could sense the fatigue in his embrace, the faint tremor of exhaustion.

It was the soft, resigned sigh that escaped his lips that made me pull back slightly. Noah’s gaze met mine, filled with a tumult of anguish, fatigue, and a lingering fear of having disappointed me. With a weary hand, he reached up and gently wiped the blood from my cheek with his thumb, a troubled wrinkle forming on his forehead as if it pained him to see me tainted by the violence that had marked out lives. 

“My father,” I began, clutching the lapels of Noah’s tattered combat suit, my voice trembling. 

“I spared his life,” Noah murmured, his voice muffled as he buried his face in my hair. “He’s wounded, but he’ll survive.”

The relief that surged through me was like a soothing balm, easing the tension that had gripped my heart. But the word ‘wounded’ caused me to pull away slightly, my eyes instinctively drawn to the gash on Noah’s chest. 

“You need someone to tend to you,” I said urgently, my eyes filling with tears. The sight of him, battered and bloodied, was breaking my heart. The thought of him being hurt, especially by no other than my father, was too much. 

“I’m fine.”

“Noah, you’re losing blood.” I started to ask how he had managed to make it all the way to the temple in such a state, but then, he faltered. 

His posture sagged, as if the effort of standing and speaking was too much. The sight of his vulnerability drove a deeper ache into my chest. I took a step closer, reaching out to steady him, my hands gripping his arms. My panic flared again. 

I guided him to sit on the floor as I watched how every movement was draining him. The old woman appeared almost as if by magic, and in a second she was directing Noah to remain seated as she placed a small zabuton on the floor. 

With a quiet authority, she instructed him to lie down, and Noah, wincing, carefully reclined. 

“Open his shirt,” the woman instructed. My heart was pounding in my chest. The voices in my head screamed that this wasn’t the end, that there was still a chance I could lose him. 

The cut on Noah’s chest, while not as deep as I’d thought initially, had been bleeding for a while, and his exhausting only compounded the gravity of his condition. I remained momentarily paralyzed, caught in the horror of the situation, in the thought that it could get worse, but Noah’s groan of pain snapped me back to reality. He was trying to open the lapels of his suit, but the effort was too much for him. I knelt beside him, my hands trembling as I gently pulled aside the fabric. Every tug brought a pained wince from Noah, the material sticking to the wound, making the task even more agonizing. 

Once his chest was exposed, the woman reappeared with a bowl filled with water and a wooden box. From the box, she retrieved a handful of gauze, a roll of thread, and a needle. Noah turned his head slightly towards her, his eyes reflecting a mixture of resignation and discomfort. 

“It needs to be stitched,” she announced with a calm resolve. 

Noah’s shoulders sagged with the weight of his exhaustion, and he threw his head back, his eyes searching for mine. I reached out, my fingers entwining with his. I could see the fatigue and the faint hope in his gaze. Despite the grime, blood, and sweat, he was still the most beautiful man I’d ever seen. When he tried to smile at me, it took all my strength to remain upright, my legs feeling like they might buckle beneath me had I been standing.

“We’re free,” he whispered, his voice a fragile thread of reassurance.

As his words settled into my heart, a couple of tears slipped from my eyes and traced a path down my cheeks, falling onto Noah’s hand, which I had brought to my lips. I kissed his knuckles gently, each touch a silent vow of my love and devotion. The old woman’s skilled hands began the delicate work of stitching, but for now, all I could focus on was the warmth of Noah’s hand in mine and the promise of a future where we would face everything together.

Nearly two hours later, Noah and I were finally back in the house.  

The walk back had been arduous. The wounds Noah sustained from my father’s swords were extensive, not only requiring stitches on his chest, but also on his left bicep, where the cut had been particularly deep and concerning. The old woman at the temple had worked meticulously, disinfecting and stitching each wound to prevent infection. We’d stayed at the temple for a while. Noah had eaten, hydrated, and rested a little before we made our way back to the village. 

Back in the house, I helped Noah into the bath, carefully washing his wounds and bruises. Despite the delicate nature of the task, Noah didn’t utter a single complaint. Instead, he watched with a quiet intensity as my hands moved the sponge over his battered body.

There was a profound intimacy in this act of care that transcended even any physical union. Washing him was a way for me to express my care and love for him. The softness of the sponge against his skin, the careful way I tended to each bruise and scrape, felt like a sacred ritual.

As I glided the sponge across his shoulder, Noah reached out and took my wrist gently, placing two soft kisses on it. The gesture brought a smile to my face, warming the chill of the night and the embarrassment I felt at seeing him so wounded. Noticing my reluctance, he drew me closer until he had me leaning over him, his lips finding mine in a deep, reassuring kiss. His hand rested at the back of my head, grounding me in the moment and making the pain and worry fade.

In different circumstances, I would have discarded my clothes and joined him in the tub, oblivious to the overflow of water and the cramped space. 

Touching his wet hair, I rested my forehead against his and murmured, “The water’s getting cold.” 

He nodded in agreement, his eyes reflecting a mixture of gratitude and affection. 

A while later, I was in bed, sitting cross-legged, feeling the weight of recent events settle heavily on my shoulders. My gaze flitted uncertainly around the room, not knowing where to fix it. On our katanas? On the dress from our outing to the market, now tainted by Ren’s dagger? Perhaps on the Daruma doll on top of a drawer, a token of good luck and protection Grandma had gifted Noah?

The last few days played on a relentless loop in my mind. The terrifying thought that we might lose everything to my father seemed to have passed, but the echoes of those moments clung to me. Only hours ago, I had feared that Noah and I might be torn apart, our future snatched from our grasp. Now, the realization that we were finally free, that our future lay ahead of us, felt almost surreal.

I glanced at the window, slightly ajar, through which a gentle night breeze flowed in. The room was bathed in soft, muted light from the street below, casting elongated shadows that danced quietly against the walls. Noah emerged from the bathroom, his body wrapped in boxer shorts, the faint scent of soap and water mingling in the air. Despite the healing of his wounds, his spirit was battle-weary and his mind exhausted from the ravages we had experienced together the past few days. 

It was hard to believe that four days ago, only the two of us knew of the love between us. Now, it felt like the secret had been shared with half the world. 

Tears welled up in my eyes, a blend of relief and the residual fear that had held me captive only hours before. They slipped down my cheeks, mingling with the remnants of anxiety. I hurriedly brushed them away before Noah had a chance to see them. 

Shaking his head, he dropped the towel he had used to dry his hair, and knelt at the foot of the bed. His hand reached out, beckoning me to move closer.

I shifted my position, moving to kneel at the foot of the bed so that Noah’s face was slightly below mine. His gaze was filled with adoration and a quiet plea, his brown eyes shimmering with love and promises. He touched my cheek with a comforting caress, sliding his fingers to my chin as he softly spoke.

“We should sleep,” he said, his voice soothing and weary.

I took his wrist and guided his hand to my cheek, leaning into his touch as if drawing strength from it. I closed my eyes, pressing my face against his open palm.

“I don’t think I can sleep.”

“What do you want to do, then?” his voice held a tenderness that was as reassuring as it was gentle, a promise that he was ready to fulfill my every need. It was as though he could sense the depth of my love for him, the way it filled every corner of my heart. 

Tell me what you need and I'll give it to you.

I let out a sigh, not one of heaviness but of pure, unadulterated love. My feelings for him had always been intense, even before I came of age, and knowing that our future was no longer just a dream but a reality filled me with a profound sense of joy and anticipation. The thought of spending the rest of our lives together made my heart flutter with an exhilarating mix of excitement and nervousness.

“Just be with you,” I murmured softly, my voice barely above a whisper. “Make sure you’re okay.” My gaze drifted to the cut on his chest, now bandaged but still red and angry. The pain was evident in his features, despite his efforts to remain stoic. He was a Samurai, accustomed to enduring pain, but I could see through his brave façade. His grimaces and fleeting glances betrayed the discomfort he was trying to mask.

I gently traced my fingers across his chest, careful to avoid the wounded area. My touch was meant to be a balm, a soothing caress that offered him comfort and reassurance. The cut would leave a scar—a reminder of the sacrifice and courage he had shown, a testament to his willingness to go to great lengths for us.

“I’m fine,” he said with a soft smile, the warmth of his expression gradually melting away the tension in his face. “But I can be better.”

My eyes met his, my fingers resting near where his heart beat beneath his skin.

“How?” I asked, my voice laced with concern.

“By being inside you,” he replied, a mischievous glint in his eyes that momentarily pulled me from my worry. His words made me frown slightly and tilt my head in curiosity.

“But you’re hurt,” I said, my voice firm but tender. I wasn’t opposed to his desire—my own wishes aligned closely with his. However, the reality of his injuries weighed heavily on me. He had fought bravely only hours earlier, and I didn’t want him to overexert himself. “I wouldn’t want you to…”

“I’ll be nice and gentle,” he interrupted, his voice filled with an earnest promise.

And that was all I needed.

Suddenly, a gentle smile spread across my face, mirroring the one on Noah's. This was a moment we both needed—something deeply personal and healing. I couldn’t imagine denying him anything. Not now, not ever.

In what felt like slow motion, Noah rose from his seated position. His tall frame and muscular build were even more striking as he stood before me. I blinked slowly, almost reflexively, and watched the bulge in his boxers pulse. His touch on my chin was light and almost imperceptible, his fingertips grazing my cheek as he pushed a stray lock of hair behind my ear.

“Take off your robe,” he instructed, his voice low and commanding.

I obeyed without hesitation, slipping out of the silk robe and revealing the cotton panties beneath —the only piece of clothing I was wearing—. Noah’s eyes softened as they drifted over my exposed body, over my breasts, but there was a glint of hunger in his gaze that spoke of a deep, insatiable need.

“Show me you still trust me,” he said next.

My heart raced, a mix of apprehension and relief coursing through me. This was who we were, what we had become together. After the chaos and bloodshed, this was where we needed to be—close, connected, and unafraid.

I moved to the edge of the bed, offering my wrists to him. I looked up, meeting his warm gaze, silently pledging my trust and surrender.

Noah’s expression was filled with pride and a hint of relief. He stepped away briefly, opening the sliding-door closet where we had stored the clothes Rika and her husband had gifted us. When he returned, he held a collection of belts in his hands. 

He selected a black one from the pile and laid the others beside me on the mattress. He knelt on the floor, aligning himself with my height, and began to tie my wrists with a single-column tie, our eyes locking in a silent exchange of understanding.

“Can you lie down for me?” he asked softly once he was done.

I nodded, and as I settled back onto the mattress, Noah hovered over me momentarily, asking me to lift my head for a couple of seconds so that he could push my hair away to ensure it wouldn’t be caught or tangled. 

“Thank you,” I murmured.

Noah pressed a kiss to my shoulder before stepping back to the foot of the bed. He took my panties with him, letting them fall to the floor, and picked up another belt from the assortment beside me.

I took a deep breath, trying to quell the nervous flutter in my chest. 

Despite my unwavering trust in Noah—knowing that he would never hurt me—the suspense of not knowing what was coming next always made me feel a mixture of excitement and anxiety. My feet itched with a restless anticipation.

Noah seemed to sense my tension. He leaned down and placed a tender kiss on my left knee, his lips warm and soothing against my skin. “Bend your leg,” he instructed gently, “so that your calf is pressed against the back of your thigh.”

I followed his guidance, folding my leg as he directed. His fingers began to caress my inner thigh, tracing light, reassuring patterns on my skin. The gentle touch was a familiar comfort, easing my nerves and bringing a sense of calm.

Once I was in the right position, Noah’s hands moved to the belt. His touch was steady and deliberate as he started to tie it around my thigh, making a single column tie just below the hip. The belt was soft but firm, securing the bend of my leg with a snug yet comfortable grip. He then guided the rope down to my calf, encircling it snugly in an evenly spaced manner. His movements were deliberate and attentive, each wrap around my leg made with practiced grace. 

As he continued wrapping the kimono belt around my leg, keeping my thigh and calf together, he paused to check my comfort. His fingers brushed against my skin as he made adjustments, ensuring the rope was tight enough to hold but not so tight as to impede circulation. Every now and then, he would look into my eyes, searching for any sign of discomfort. His gaze was soft, his concern palpable, and it made me feel deeply cared for.

When he reached the end of the belt, he secured it with a neat knot, making sure it was both secure and aesthetically pleasing. He took a moment to gently press his fingers along the wraps, feeling for any signs of tension or discomfort. His touch was tender and reassuring, 

His careful attention extended to the second leg. I bent it without him having to ask for it, and I heard a satisfied hum escape his lips. He took about ten minutes to complete the tie there as well. Each movement was measured and thoughtful, his focus loving and unwavering as he worked on me. 

With the belts snugly encircling my legs, I felt an increasing sense of surrender with each passing moment. Noah’s gaze and the secure feeling of the ropes around me gradually pulled me into a deeper state of subspace. The outside world faded away, leaving just the intimate bubble we created together.

Noah’s soft voice cut through the silence, asking if I was alright. The concern in his tone, combined with his lingering touch, grounded me and made me feel cherished. His attentiveness to my comfort and the connection we shared through this experience made it easier to let go.

“Arms above your head,” he instructed softly, and I complied without hesitation. His approval came in the form of a ‘good girl,’ which filled me with a deep sense of pride for pleasing him. 

Noah’s hand rested on my knees, gently pushing them up and apart. I felt a flush spread across my entire body as he exposed me to him. His gaze was intense and appreciative, taking in every inch of me—every imperfection, every scar. It was a gaze that made me feel both vulnerable and deeply valued.

His touch was tender as he slid his hand from my neck down the valley between my breasts, moving slowly until he reached my lower belly. His fingers paused, resting over the mound between my legs. “I need this,” he murmured, his voice low and filled with need.

As he said those three words, he sank to his knees. He grasped my tied legs, pulling them closer to the edge of the bed. 

I closed my eyes as Noah’s breath fluttered against my skin, the anticipation building with each touch. His kisses began on my inner thighs, making me feel cherished and adored. When his lips brushed right below my navel, a shiver ran through me, his breath sending goosebumps all over my body, my nipples hardening in response.

“Everything’s okay,” he whispered, his voice vibrating against my sensitive skin. His words created an almost electric sensation, making my entire body tingle. “I’m going to show you right now.”

“Please,” I murmured, my voice barely above a breath.

His next kiss landed on the delicate area where my thigh met my pubic region, along the inguinal crease. The proximity of his mouth had me shivering, struggling to contain a moan.

“You can bring your arms down now, baby. Touch my hair while I have my mouth on you,” he instructed, his voice low and comforting. “I love it when you do that.”

A grin spread across my face, unable to be contained. “I know,” I replied, a hint of satisfaction in my voice.

His smile seemed to widen against my thigh, and I could feel his pleasure in the gentle way he responded. My fingers tangled in his soft locks as his mouth began its exploration between my legs. Each touch was slow, deliberate, and incredibly sensitive. He took his time, savoring every flick of his tongue and every gentle suck, creating a rhythm that was both intimate and profoundly connecting.

The unhurried pace allowed us to savor each moment, to explore the depth of our bond in silence. My body responded to him instinctively, wriggling beneath him as pleasure built. Soft, sweet moans escaped me, marking the perfect synchronization we shared in that moment. His hands roamed across my hips and lower belly, sliding up to caress my breasts and tease my nipples, adding layers of tenderness and stimulation to our connection.

Noah knew my body better than I knew it myself. When I bucked against his lips, craving more, he responded with a firm hand pressed against my lower abdomen, holding me still. Despite the pause, his tongue continued its gentle, insistent work, licking and flicking. The pleasure built up until I was shuddering and arching off the mattress, my body consumed by the climax he’d drawn from me.

Even after I came, he remained there, praising me, continuing to lick and kiss me with calm, mindful strokes. I had given him my orgasm and with it, I had released half of what I’d been holding inside since we left my father’s state. 

“That was sweet,” he commented, lifting his head from between my legs, satisfaction evident in his voice. I quivered at the sight of his lips, glistening with the evidence of my arousal. He licked them clean and even though I had just reached a nice climax, I felt ready to give him another one.

He stood up. His hands went straight to the ropes binding my wrists, deftly untying the knots. I watched him quietly, regaining my breath. I noted how he moved with a confidence that spoke of his extensive experience. Each knot he loosened revealed not just his skill but his deep understanding of me—both as a my warrior and my lover.

Once he had freed my wrists, he gently rubbed them between his large, calloused hands, his touch both soothing and reassuring. “Do you feel any pain?” he asked, his voice tender but concerned. 

I shook my head. “No, I’m fine. The pressure felt nice.”

“Good,” he replied, his gaze relaxing. “I’m going to change the ties now, so that your wrists are tied to your ankles. Is that okay?” 

“Yes.”

“Yes, what?”

“Yes, Noah.”

“Good girl.” His voice held a note of pride as he began working on the new knots. “I’m going to make you feel really good while you’re all tied up and I’m inside you, I promise.” 

His focus was intense, his hands working almost too fast for me to keep track of each knot. 

“The moment you need me to untie you,” he addded, eyes meeting mine with a commanding gaze, “just say so, okay?” 

“I will, Noah.”

“Perfect.” 

His hands continued their work, placing my wrists at the bottom of the triangle formed by my calf and thigh, efecctively tying my ahnds to my feet. The adjustment was meticulous, ensuring that my hands were now cupping my own feet. 

As he worked, I could feel the new arrangement of the ropes stretching my limbs in a way that was both restrictive and incredibly stimulating. Noah’s attention to detail was meticulous, each knot and wrap designed to heighten our connection and the sensations we shared.

My feet rested flat on the bed, the cool fabric beneath them constrasting with the heat radiating from the constriction above. I watched as Noah’s hands worked methodically, the cotton belts slipping through his fingers with ease.

He looped the belt around my wrists, pulling each end through the careful knots he had already made at my ankles. My breaths came in shallow, uneven bursts as I felt the binding tighten. Noah’s movements were almost reverent as he ensured the knots were secure yet not painful, balancing restraint with care.

Each tug of the belts brought a new sensation—tighter, more restricting—until I felt the belts drawing my limbs closer together, the tension making every muscle in my body aware of the intricate web of bondage. His fingers brushed against my skin, a fleeting, almost intimate touch before he moved away to adjust the knots with a final, authoritative tug.

As I shifted slightly, the belts creaked and shifted, an audible reminder of their grip. Noah’s eyes met mine, and there was a flicker of something inscrutable in his gaze, a blend of focus and something deeper that I couldn’t quite decipher. I was completely at his mercy now, each movement of mine dictated by the binding ropes and the skillful precision with which he had tied them.

Once he was satisfied with his work, he looked at me with a mixture of satisfaction and affection. “Are you comfortable?”

I nodded, the excitement of anticipation mingling with the comfort of being cared for so thoroughly. “Yes, Noah.”

His smile widened as he took in my bound form, his eyes filled with both desire and admiration. “You took good care of me in the tub. Now I’m going to take good care of you here, in this bed.”

He leaned down to placed his hands on my waist. At the same time his thumbs stroked my sides, he bent his head down and pressed a loving kiss to my stomach, lips lingering there with a softness that seemed at odds with the tightness of the ropes binding me. The warmth of his breath and the tender touch made me shiver in pleasure.

He lingered there for a moment longer, as if relishing the profound connection between us before he drew back just enough to speak, his voice low and hushed, imbued with both solemnity and hope. “We’re free,” he murmured, his gaze lingering on me with a blend of affection and determination. “Nobody can dictate our future anymore—only we can.” With two fingers, he traced a circle around my navel. “One day, our children will grow here,” he continued, his lips and fingers replaced by his warm, broad palm, which now lay pressing tenderly on my womb. 

The words hung between us, a promise and a vision of a future that felt both distant and tantalizingly close. His eyes softened as he took in my expression, revealing a vulnerability beneath the surface of his composed exterior. A flutter of excitement danced in my stomach, mingling with a growing need to feel him inside me. At that moment, the ropes that bound me seemed almost inconsequential compared to the profound meaning behind his declaration. 

He stepped back, and the room fell into a hush, punctuated only by the soft rustle of the belts keeping me bound and the steady rhythm of our breathing. 

Noah undressed, sliding off his underwear and letting his cock spring free, hard and proud. 

With a careful, practiced hand, he adjusted my position on the bed, lifting me slightly so he could kneel comfortably between my legs. His presence was commanding and powerful—broad shoulders, strong arms, and muscular thighs—yet there was a controlled gentleness in his approach. The intensity in the way he looked at me was unsettling and deeply intimate, as if he could see past the surface to something more profound.

A shyness fluttered over me, the intensity of his stare making it hard to hold his gaze. I tried to find distraction in the room’s shadows or the patterns on the bedding.

“No,” he barked, his voice cutting through the silence with a sharp edge. “Look at me. Eyes on me.”

The command jolted me back to him There was no escape from the depth of his stare. The authority in his voice made my heart race, but there was also a strange comfort in the clarity of his demand.

I held his gaze, trying to steady my breathing. His eyes remained fixed on mine, unwavering, as if he was searching for something in me, something that only this moment of connection could reveal. The weight of his expectations pressed against me, mingling with the tightness of the ropes, creating a blend of tension and anticipation that just got me hotter.

With a grip that took me by surprise, Noah lifted my hips and settled my ass on his lap, my bent and tied legs resting at his sides, feet and hands floating mid-air. In that position, his cock was perfectly aligned with my core.

“Arch your back a little,” he instructed. “Get comfy, baby, because I’m going to enjoy my time with you like this.”

He guided me closer with a gentle pull, adjusting me until I was nestled just right. I shifted slightly, seeking the most comfortable position by resting most of my weight on my shoulders. 

A tender kiss was placed on my knee, followed by the gentle press of his thumb on my clit, making me gasp from the unexpected sensation. The touch was not harsh but warm and teasing, much like his previous caresses. He took his time, rubbing his cock against my folds, from my clit to my slit, stirring a mounting anticipation.

In one deliberate, slow thrust, he was fully inside me. A small frown appeared between his brows—a sign of his awe and fascination with how perfectly our bodies fit together. I gasped and closed my eyes momentarily, savoring the overwhelming sensation of finally having Noah inside. 

He remained still for a moment. My skin prickled with goosebumps under his scrutiny, the anticipation of his next move almost palpable. His dark eyes held a fierce intensity that should have been intimidating but instead felt deeply reassuring.

“You’re mine,” he declared.

And I felt completed. 

Because I was his. Always had been. 

And he was mine. 

As the rhythm between us began to build, his movements were tremendously delicious, a blend of passion and reverence. I couldn’t say for certain if he kept his eyes open to observe each one of my expressions and reactions, as I had closed mine, losing myself in the sensation of our bodies being joined. Each thrust, the slide of his cock inside me, the press of my lower body against his thighs—everything melded into a singular, euphoric experience. I felt as if I were floating on a cloud.

“How’s it feel?” he asked, his voice an urgent whisper that barely touched the edges of my consciousness. “Talk me through it, sweetheart. I need your words. Come on.”

“It feels so good…” I managed to respond, my voice trembling slightly. I arched my back as he entered me again, each stroke sending waves of pleasure through me. “I don’t want this to end.”

“It won’t,” he assured me.

He wasn’t talking about our lovemaking. He was talking about us, our bond, the love. 

An overwhelming surge of emotion coursed through me. Maybe it was all the love I had for him, everything I knew I would do to keep this man at my side. I opened my eyes, watery because his promise, coupled with his movements, threatened to bring me to tears. My eyes fell to the cut on his chest. 

My gaze fell to the cut on his chest, which had been stitched and now marred some of his tattoos. Despite the imperfection, it was a mark of his love, never to be seen as anything less than beautiful. That’s when my concern shifted to him.

“Are you feeling all right?” I asked softly, my head hazy from the pleasure, the friction of his cock moving in and out making my mind all fuzzy.

“I’m feeling okay,” he replied, his tone filled with genuine warmth, his movements never losing focus. “There’s nothing like this, being inside you,” he bit his lip as he observed the way his thick cock disappeared inside of me. “And you look so beautiful, taking me like this because there’s nothing else you can do. I wish you could see yourself.”

One of his hands slid down my calf, his fingers gently finding the ones resting by my foot. He grasped them tenderly, offering a small, loving squeeze.

It was these subtle gestures that had first made me fall for him. Back when we were just teenagers and our encounters were still new and thrilling, Noah had always been cautious and restrained about touching me. But whenever he sensed something wasn’t right—perhaps when I had a rough day or something kept bugging at me—he would let his hand brush mine as we walked through the forest or beside the pond, he would pretend to remove a stray leaf from my hair, or would place a flower behind my ear with a compliment. His small acts of affection were one of my favorite parts of him, something that no one else had got to experience from this implacable Samurai.

Such a charmer he’d been—still was. I just don’t think he was aware of it. His actions always spurred from his very soul, intent with love, from a soul that radiated tenderness.

What was there not to admire about this man?

I’d do anything for him. My feelings for Noah went far beyond mere love; they transcended the physical. He was my life.

In the midst of my thoughts, Noah guided our lovemaking with a steady, rhythmic intensity that left me breathless. And a while later, a powerful urge to be even closer to him took hold of me. 

I longed to be freed from the restraints, to wrap my arms around him and pull him even closer. My chest ached with the need to feel his skin pressed against mine, to close the distance between us. I needed him to understand how desperately I wanted to feel his body enveloping mine, entirely. I wanted to kiss him, to hold him in a way that our current position did not allow.

I focused on the sensations of our connection, savoring the way his touch ignited every nerve in my body. My hands itched to reach out, to cup his face and draw him into a kiss that would seal our shared ecstasy. Each time he entered me, I could feel the tension and desire crackling between us, a force that pushed us toward the edge. I could feel every pulse of his cock, every throb of his desire matching my own.

In a breathless whisper, I pleaded, “Noah, untie me now. Please.”

His eyes flickered with both determination and a hint of surprise. Without breaking our connection, he began to carefully untie the restraints that held me. 

Once he had freed me, Noah’s hands massaged my ankles and wrists to ease the tension from the binds. The attention was both soothing and arousing. As he adjusted our positions into a missionary, I eagerly wrapped my limbs around him, my heels pressing firmly into his backside. His lips traveled over my face, brushing gently against my cheeks, jaw, and down my neck, each touch fueling the fire of our connection.

Despite the overwhelming pleasure coursing through me, a surge of strength and dominance began to rise within. I struggled, but I finally managed to flip Noah over. I guided him onto his back. His look of surprise was fleeting, quickly replaced by a mixture of curiosity and admiration. I was careful, mindful of his injury, not wanting to cause him any discomfort or risk opening his stitches.

Once I was atop him, I took charge, riding him with a mix of passion and care. The control I exerted was exhilarating, and Noah’s expression shifted between awe and appreciation. 

Noah, as the dominating Samurai he’d been and always would be, didn’t wait more than couple of minutes to sit up, though. He wrapped his arms around my middle, and urged me to move my legs so that I was wrapped around him. His other hand tangled in my long hair, guiding me down to his mouth as my body sank onto his cock. Settled onto him, my clit brushed against his lower body, and I could feel the pressure and pleasure escalate to an intense, feverish pitch.

The new position, the way my body rubbed against his, how we moved against each other, elicited louder sounds from both of us. 

The connection was so profound that I knew I was on the brink of exploding, the pleasure mounting with each passing second. The combination of his warm embrace, the rhythmic motion, and the intense intimacy between us made it impossible for me to hold back. 

However, when Noah rested his forehead against my bare shoulder, not even a couple of minutes after, an unfamiliar dampness caressed my skin. My heart twisted at the unexpected vulnerability in his touch, and I was flooded by a sense of worry. I stopped my dance atop him, and gently cradled his face in my hands, guiding his gaze to meet mine. 

“Noah,” I whispered, my breath mingling with his, “are you crying?”

He blinked, his dark eyes shimmering with unshed tears.

I had never seen him crying.  

“I’m sorry,” he uttered, “I’m so sorry for everything I put you through.”

A warm, reassuring smile spread across my face.

My boy.

My soldier.

Crying in my arms.

“Noah…” I pressed a kiss to his nose, another one to his cheekbone, as words came flooding back to me. “You didn’t force me to do anything. I’m very capable of making my own decisions. Remember that line?”

He frowned at first, but soon his lips curled into a wry, relieved smile. He let out a breath, rubbing a hand over his face and letting his forehead fall against my shoulder. 

I held him, none of us moving for a while. I let his hands roam my back, explore my skin. 

“I was terrified” he began, the quiet of the night welcoming his soft-spoken voice, “when I noticed you weren’t there in the market, and then when I found you in that alley with Ren, and he had you—”

“Shush,” I interrupted softly, lifting his head with a finger below his chin and pressing my forehead to his. “That’s in the past now. You don’t have to be scared anymore, and neither do I.” I traced the line of his right ear with my fingers as I inhaled him. His scent was intoxicating. It felt surreal that this man was mine; that he’d always been. Maybe it would take me forever to grasp the notion. “It’s just us from now onwards,” I continued, letting a playful, cheeky smile slip onto my lips. I lowered my voice, catching his full attention with an intentional buckle of my hips against his. “Maybe little ones in the near future. But tonight—right now— it’s just you and me, Noah.”

His smile broadened, mingling with a mix of gratitude and love. We lingered in the moment, our bodies intertwined, our breaths mingling. The weight of the world seemed to dissolve as we savored the intimacy. Our tears, our fears, and our shared pain were left behind as we focused solely on each other.

When Noah started rocking me against him again, I felt a profound sense of completion. The struggles and uncertainties of our journey seemed distant and insignificant compared to the future ahead of us. 

I closed my eyes, holding onto his shoulders. The world outside faded away, leaving only two adults lost in each other, the same ones that had been kids once; kids who knew nothing about love but learnt everything together. 

*deep breath* this is the last part of the series. The next update will likely be the epilogue, which will be divided in two parts and will take place at least two years after these events.

Thank you so much to every single one of you angels that have taken the time to read this, that have been patient with me and my slow updates, and have cheered me on to continue and have kept me motivated to write this story. Writing has always been one of my favorite things to do, and doing research for it, learning about other cultures, and getting to share this with you all and seeing your reactions literally has no price. I'm such a sap but that's okay 🤓

Having said that, epilogue part I coming soon! 🤭 ✨

Taglist:

@girlfromrussia-universe | @kankuurohs | @somebodyels3 | @missduffsblog | @respectfulrebel

@badomensls | @shilohrosechicken | @moreyoulove-moreyouknow @concreteangel92 | @darling-millicent-aubrey | @alwaysfightforwhoyouare

[natasha-in-space]

All Good Things Must End

Ray/gn!reader;

From the beginning, you trusted Ray with all your heart. He was the embodiment of your fairytale dream come to life. Your respite from all the unappealing troubles of the outside world. But all fairytales have an ending to them. And yours is not as happy as you expected.

CW: brief mention of violence, erratic behavior, depiction of a codependent relationship. This is a Danger Ray fic! Set during V's route. Loosely based on the 7th day outgoing call to V (11:51 AM, after the 'Provoke' chatroom).

Lovely dividers by @/saradika-graphics!

Ray was a good man. A kind man. A fragile man, even. His entire appearance would remind you of a beautiful but delicate flower. So starved for love and warmth, yet so sensitive to every harsh touch of the wind, even the slightest of pushes against its soft petals would make it start to wilt. A flower that needed nothing but some gentle care and love for it to come into bloom. And, of course, you were willing to give him just that. After all, why wouldn't you be? Ray has been nothing but kind and caring towards you, ever since you stepped foot into this strange place, guiding you along the way while holding your hand and not minding any of your clumsy mistakes. He was understanding. Attentive. Curious. Always checking in with you and eager to hear about your day. Never ignoring you or making you feel stupid if you didn't understand a thing or two.

No wonder you found it so easy to open up to him in your short time here. You trusted that he would do no wrong by you. Just as he promised.

At least... that's what you thought. And appearances can be deceiving. Oh, so very deceiving. Now, it felt downright humiliating just how much of a blind fool you really were. How stupidly determined you were to deny and rebuke anyone daring to challenge your views on Ray.

You loyally refused to trust Rika's musings about Ray's 'darkness' during your brief stay with her, dismissing them as nothing but her twisted philosophy that you couldn't even begin to comprehend. You impulsively denied V's numerous warnings not to trust in Ray's sugary words, reassuring yourself over and over again that surely his affections for you must be true and earnest. You turned your back on every nagging suspicion buzzing at the back of your mind during short moments of unrest. You knew in your heart that Ray was a kind, tender boy. He was simply confined to an environment that would exacerbate his worst traits.

And he was only human, right? No one is immune to harmful outside influences being forced down upon them. Anyone could end up in his place one day, even you. It was no reason for you to be hostile and distrustful of him.

Then again, maybe that was just your mind trying desperately to keep you calm in the midst of a horrible storm you found yourself being forcibly thrust into. After all, accepting just how truly bad and out of your control things truly were here... How utterly helpless and vulnerable you were, with no one there to come save you if you needed it... How trapped and isolated you were in the middle of nowhere, surrounded by nothing but miles and miles of lush mountain forests, with no civilization in sight...

Just the thought of it would make a heavy lump of acidic bile rise up to your throat. The sad truth is... Ray simply provided you with feelings of solace and comfort that some deeper, weaker part of you was so desperate for. Losing that was something you were not ready to face yet. He was there by your side from day one. He had a better understanding of you than anyone else did. Of course you would cling to his familiar presence for this brief feeling of stability you yearned for so gravely.

In retrospect, it was always a losing battle for you to try and win. You could have done better. You really, really could have done so much better. Yet it still hit you harder than a sledgehammer to the back of your skull, when the bitter reality has finally reared its ugly head to you, without any regard for your fragile heart.

You resent yourself for hitting that call button despite your gut screaming at you not to. You were already well aware that you would regret doing that, somewhere on the back of your mind. But, in the moment, your worry for your friend overpowered your lingering anxiety. Maybe out of some sense of duty. V made it all the way here, just to save you. You played a big role in his capture, in a way. If it wasn't for you, he wouldn't be in danger. And not knowing a single thing about his whereabouts or even his state was... daunting.

So, you dialed his phone number.

You anticipated that he wouldn't pick up. Maybe you would receive a very brief phone call with him begging you to keep yourself safe, like he always would. Or even just a quick exchange of words between you two that would maybe give you even the tiniest of clues on his whereabouts. Something you could then relay to Seven. Make yourself useful. Actually do something, instead of just sitting there and driving yourself mad with dozens upon dozens of anxious thoughts clouding your mind.

What you received was worse than you could have ever imagined.

It was one thing to hear pained groans, gasps, and raspy coughing on the other end of the line. You already had an expectation that V would not be okay when you hear his voice. It still left your knees feeling weak and your heart lurching in your chest with a dizzying intensity, but you could handle that, to an extent. What you couldn't handle was also hearing a familiar soft-spoken voice that has become an unstated but undeniable source of comfort for you. A voice that was now sounding so cold and angry, that your brain had a hard time comprehending what was happening, seemingly shutting down completely, as you remained deathly quiet for the whole duration of that cursed call.

Ray just was not supposed to be there.

You have heard him get angry before. You have heard him lose his grip on reality before. You have heard him say things you couldn't truly agree with, despite you still going along with them regardless, to avoid causing him any disturbance. Those were all aspects of him you were not blind to. You just actively chose to overlook them whenever they would come up. Something that you probably shouldn't have done.

-But you never heard him be so downright cruel and vicious before. Seemingly not at all disturbed by the very real sounds of suffering from the other living person there with him. Even getting angrier at them.

Like it was something completely normal. Not at all worth getting upset or worried over.

You couldn't wrap your head around the fact that this was the same man that worried himself sick over you simply scraping a knee. He was so caring, so empathetic to you back then... over a small cut, of all things. And now, that very same man was not at all disturbed by such grave suffering happening right in front of him.

No, by the sounds of it... he was actively causing it.

And that's not something you could live in peace with.

The call lasted for a maximum of two minutes. That's the time that your phone would display to you whenever you mindlessly return to it, anyway. But it felt way longer than that. For those two horrible minutes, your ears were ruthlessly subjected to the merciless reality you were so desperate to avoid facing up until that very moment.

The bitter truth was that Ray is not a fragile flower. Nor is he a prince from a fairytale. For, fairytales are not reality. No matter how much you want them to be. He was a man, a human being, just like you. Just like every other person in this building. And much like any human being, he was more than capable of causing harm by his own two hands if he so chooses. In fact, he would do so purposefully. And a victim of his spiraling wrath was no longer some faceless unlucky believer that you could forget about in a matter of hours, despite you genuinely feeling bad for them. No, it was your friend. A friend who fought so desperately to save you, even at the cost of his own safety. A friend you have come to care for in the short time you have known each other.

A friend, you knew for sure didn't deserve to be suffering in the way that he was. By the hands of your other friend you cared for just as deeply.

Such reality was just too cruel for you to bear.

So, you do the most foolish thing of all.

You confront Ray head-on.

"-Y/N, you must be confused... I've done no wrong. I do admit that I... did loose myself for a moment there, but- but it was his own fault! If he just kept quiet and drank the elixir like my Savior has instructed, I wouldn't get so upset with him. And he kept saying his stupid lies... He wouldn't shut up. My head hurt so bad... You have no idea."

You are left feeling sick to your very core by the soft apologetic smile reflected on Ray's face, once you do have a chance to finally face him again. No matter what you say, how hard you try to show him how wrong and cruel his actions really were, it was all completely pointless. For someone so seemingly skittish and subservient, Ray was frustratingly stubborn in his beliefs. It was like throwing a tennis ball at a wall. The more force you put into your throw to get your point across, the harder it just bounces right back into your face, leaving you with the painful sting of your failure.

You shake your head, an ugly mess of emotions steadily clouding your sense of judgment. At some point, you lose track of your location and position. All caution goes out the window. All that remains is a debilitating feeling of betrayal, clutching at your insides like metal rods slowly puncturing your very heart. "It is still wrong, Ray! How can you not see that!? He was suffering, and you just- just-"

The words don't come out of your mouth, obstructed by the suffocating lump stuck in the middle of your throat. You were going in circles now. You have been trying to get through to him for almost ten minutes straight, and still no results. You have to take a moment to try and regain your breathing. A soft glowed hand rests gently upon your chin, causing you to tilt your head to meet Ray's gaze instead.

You are disgusted by the genuine concern etched onto his delicate features. By the unfeigned emotions of nothing but genuine care and affection swimming in his eyes as he looks at you. By the tender touch warming up your clammy skin. All of it is sincere. You know he is not lying to you. Not right now, at least. And that is a sickening realization to come to.

More than anything, you are disgusted by the simple fact that you cannot perceive him as a monster or an angel. Ray is no perfect prince from a fairytale, no matter how hard he may try and appear to you as such.

He's a human.

Just like you.

And this implies that he is capable of all the atrocities that any human being is capable of. As much as he is kind to you, he can also be cruel to others. As much as his hands soothe and tremble when they brush up against yours, they can also hurt and sully those he harbors hatred for. It's not all black and white, as you would like to delude yourself into thinking.

And his actions were truly appalling to you. You couldn't live in your fantasy world anymore. It was sullied. Destroyed beyond repair. Your Wonderland has been corrupted from the start, and you just denied each and every sign of it, until it was too late.

"My prince/ss... It pains me to see you in such distress. Though, your tender heart is another trait of you that I adore," Ray whispers to you softly, his thumb lightly brushing over your cheekbone. He was touching you so gently, it's almost like you were made out of glass. And yet, just a few hours earlier, these exact hands were causing so much suffering to someone you care so deeply about. The thought prompts you to swallow hard and clutch your hands together as they start to shake. He continues, seemingly undisturbed by your lack of a positive response. "-But believe me when I say that that villain is not deserving of your compassion. He tried to take you away from me... To ruin what you and I have built together. I cannot stand by and watch him do that to us. What if you got hurt because of him? I would never forgive myself, if that were to happen."

You shut your eyes, refusing to accept the reality unfolding before you. Everything was wrong. So very wrong. One part of you wanted to scream and shout at him, to make him see the twisted nature of his words by pure unrelenting force if you have to. But there was another part of you that contemplated just giving up and concluding this interaction altogether. The debilitating feeling of helplessness was just too much for you to handle.

You are not allowed to do either of those things, however. Instead, another hand lightly rests on the small of your back, pulling you in towards the source of your distress. And you don't fight it. You feel your forehead come in contact with Ray's chest, his flowery scent filling your senses, as both of his arms are now circling around you. You hear a happy sigh fall from his lips. It all seemed like a very cruel joke on you. A moment that seemed so sweet and touching, bringing you nothing but more hurt and anguish.

Did he really not see anything amiss with any of this?

"I missed you so much, my flower... You know, when I heard that liar try and talk to me like he knew you better than I do, I felt like I might just strangle him right then and there. Make sure he never utters your lovely name ever again." Ray's voice is slightly gruff from how quiet it is against the side of your head. A low hum vibrates in his throat as he nuzzles into your hair like an affectionate cat would, breathing in your scent with all the longing you could possibly ask for. Though, the only thing that comes from his affections is a sickening feeling of dread for you.

"-But I thought of you. I thought of your lovely smile... Your eyes, your voice. I know I shouldn't think like this, but... You gave me more strength than my Savior's words ever did. What I did... I did for you. For us, Y/N." He continues, taking a step back from the hug to look at you. Your gaze is cast low, as you don't reciprocate the gesture. You can't bring yourself to look at him right now. It's hard to even keep yourself from putting your hands over your ears to avoid hearing it all. He gently tilts your head up, however, making it clear that he wants you to look at him. "Please don't be upset... It breaks my heart to see you sad because of that villain."

That's when the dam inside of you finally shatters, all repressed emotions spilling out in a violent wave of hopelessness you cannot bring yourself to stop. You wrench yourself away from Ray's arms, your own hands now clenched into tight fists as you look him directly in the eyes. There's a fire burning ever hotter inside of your chest, and you make no attempt to put it out. You let it take over you completely, consequences be damned.

"Villain?Villain!? Ray, he did all he could to save me! And you locked him up and tortured him for that!"

Your mind is screaming at you to stop. To stop and fix things before they spiral too out of your control.

You're being too aggressive. Too blunt. Too disobedient. Staying safe requires you to be both calm and smart about this. And you are neither of those things right now.

But you don't care.

Even as you see the emotions in Ray's eyes shift from that suffocating affection to a mix of desperation and frustration you know well. He makes a step towards you. You make two steps back. This makes his brows furrow in what you could only assume was dissatisfaction.

You never backed away from him before.

"Save you...? No. No. Y/N, he tried to steal you from me. Poison you with his lies, like he has done to my Savior. He did it to me, too! I'm the one who saved you. I did what had to be done to protect you!" You can actively hear his voice changing from the shaky disbelief at your denial of him to rough desperation to prove you wrong. It's borderline scary how quick those changes are occurring right in front of your eyes. Almost in a blink of an eye. It's yet another blaring warning for you to stop.

One that you ignore.

Instead, your frustration boils up inside of you, making you sneer at his stubborn refusal to see reason: "By hurting him!? By making him choke and gag in pain? What was the point of-"

Your angry line of thought is instantaneously interrupted by a small yeep that slips past your lips, as Ray closes in on you in just a couple of quick steps, grabbing at your wrists with a tight grip. Tight enough to cause you some discomfort. His eyes are wide, and his breathing is noticeably shaky. Like he's fighting to get enough air into his lungs and failing miserably. He yanks you close, making you stumble into him without much time for you to struggle or push back against him. Mostly due to your state of pure disbelief. You never expected Ray to actually do anything to you. And while he wasn't actively hurting you, this was still shattering your perception of him to bits and pieces. Or, what remained of it.

"That was nothing, Y/N. He deserved all of that. He deserved that and more. You feel sad for him? You wish mercy on him?" You are suddenly pushed back against the wall, and Ray's slim form keeps you trapped in this makeshift cage you created for yourself with your reckless actions. Ray's voice grows shakier, yet also significantly lower. It sounded dangerous. Angry. His nose brushes up against yours, as he's leaning so close to you, you can't focus on anything but him. Your breath hitches as you instinctively press yourself up against the wall, the panicked pounding of your heart echoing in your temples. "You have no idea how badly he hurt me. What pain I went through because of that- that-"

You can't help but wince in pain as his grip on you tightens. An action that seems to immediately shake Ray out of his temporary fit of anger, as he gasps and quickly lets go of you, stumbling backwards with a frightened expression painted over his features. You don't even have to look at him to know that he is probably in a less than stable state of mind. You are left staggered, betrayed and confused, as you stand there, eyes cast low, rubbing at your wrists. They didn't hurt. Not much, at least. It's the psychological aspect of it that left an impact of you.

Ray's voice feels muffled as it reaches your ears through the constant flow of thought in your head.

"I- N-No, Y/N, I'm sorry, I didn't want to- Are you hurt?" You can see him taking a step back towards you, hand reaching out for yours, probably to check on your wrists. You can tell he's scared. And upset. Probably guilty. Which makes this even harder for you to grapple with.

Either way, you cut him off, not wanting to hear any more of this. Partially because you understand that staying to listen will only cause you to break further, if it was even possible at this point. Because he sounds so genuine, nervous, and miserable, it makes your heart ache for him despite yourself. Makes you want to look up, smile, and say that you're okay. That you two can figure it out together.

And you don't want to repeat the same mistake twice.

"Just... Leave, Ray." You mutter out quietly, not raising your eyes at him. You sound a bit too soft for your liking, but it'll do. Swallowing, you repeat yourself for good measure. "Please. Leave."

There is a prolonged pause between the two of you. It's almost too lengthy for comfort. Neither of you say anything for a while. But the tension in the air is thick, and it does not fade with time. It only grows. Crawling over you like snakes. There is a fear within you that prevents you from looking at him. A fear of seeing the pain in his eyes. Or, instead, to come face to face with that same anger that felt so alien to you.

Ray finally speaks up. His voice is barely audible.

"...N-No..."

He moves closer to you still. For the second time today, you are finding yourself backing away. But now, you turn your back on him and keep your hands locked where you can see them. You can feel them shaking. With a sigh, you repeat: "Leave."

And, as you soon learn, that was not a very wise choice for you to make.

You're quickly spun around before you can think to act, and Ray's fingers are digging into your shoulders with a disturbing intensity, leaving you little time to react. He's observing you as if you were a wounded animal that was left behind after being hit by a car. Like you're the saddest creature he had ever seen. And, for some reason, that look scares you more than the previous anger he showed you.

"I can't believe this..." He murmurs under his breath, his eyes darting over your figure, almost like he was searching for something physical on you that could be visible to the human eye. But he doesn't find it, and that seems to upset him further. You try to pull away from him, only to get jerked back in again, his hold on you tightening.

Only this time, he does not pay any attention to your visible discomfort. He was too occupied with his own thoughts that you were not aware of. It's like he doesn't even see you. Not fully, anyways.

He holds your chin and tilts your face to examine you more closely. As he does, his shaky breath sneaks over your cheek and causes you to shiver in place.

"He... He poisoned you, didn't he...?"

The hushed murmur sounds so utterly ridiculous that it almost makes you forget about the disturbing nature of this situation for a good moment. Yet, he was completely serious. And he wasn't even talking to you, by the looks of it.

"What? Ray, I-"

"-That's why you are saying all these things to me... That's why you don't trust me anymore." Ray cuts you off as if you were not there, his brows furrowing into a deep scowl, but not one aimed directly at you. One of his hands grips onto your chin, while the other finds your hand and takes it into his own, his fingers sliding between yours. He grasps it tight, in a hold that would feel reassuring, if it wasn't for the circumstances. "My Y/N wouldn't tell me to leave. I should've guessed..."

A shiver of fear runs down your spine. As your outburst of frustration subsides, you slowly start to realize the seriousness of this situation for you, as the fire of anger and betrayal subsides. Now you wish Ray was angry again. At least then he still listened to you. But how can you fix things when he doesn't even acknowledge you?

"-Don't worry," You are brought back to reality by a warm and assuring smile on Ray's face. One that only makes you feel nauseous. He leans in and presses a kiss to your forehead, making your breath hitch. Staying there, he whispers onto your skin, like a secret promise only for your ears to hear. "I will fix it, my prince/ss. I shouldn't have been away from you for this long in the first place... My Savior is far too busy to give you the care and attention you need. But now, I'm here. And I'm not leaving your side again. I promise. I'll make sure you are smiling again."

He does not let go of you again. While your fairytale might have been broken, his has only begun its story. And his happily ever after is not something he will give up on. Even if you did.

[marshmallowprotection]

Happy Birthday, Saeran and Saeyoung! The 2023 Analysis!

Okay. Time to get our screaming out of the way, people. OH MY GOD. OH MY GOD. OH MY GOD. THEY ARE THE BABIEST OF BABIES. IF SOMEBODY IN THIS WORLD EVER TRIES TO MAKE THEM CRY, I WILL DESTROY THEM IN LESS THAN SEVEN SECONDS WITH MY BARE HANDS. I WILL KILL EVERY PERSON IN ROOM AND THAN GET RID OF MYSELF IF THEY CRY.

HAVE I GOTTEN THIS STIMMING OUT OF MY SYSTEM?

NO.

I’m okay. I just needed to scream a little where you guys could see it before I had a minute to break down all the details in this photo. So, as far as what I got right in this photo... the hard light coming through the window was a problem area for a lot of people. I wasn’t sure if they were going to be inside or outside, but these boys are inside. In fact, they’re inside their childhood home and that’s not what I expected given the fact that Cheritz mentioned they were going on an outing for the day.

Well, I know for sure they will be recounting one of their trips outside together on Twitter, but they’re inside this time around for the title screen. I didn’t think they’d be in that house given the fact tat that house is such an awful place. Yet, it’s very bittersweet in a way because that house is a nightmare. But, it’s the only place... where they got to be together before everything changed. It’s a bad memory and a good memory. They can’t get back what they lost—

But, they still have each other and that’s what matters. When Rika and V burned their house down at the end of Ray Route, it was the end of those days. There’d never a way to get a tangible representation of that life they lived. Sometimes, I wonder how Saeyoung feels about that since we don’t get to tell him about that fact. How does he feel about the house being burned down? We know how our boy Saeran feels about it because it’s told to us as plain as day.

But, is it bittersweet for Saeyoung, too?

It’s easy for me to say that Saeyoung might not have cared. After all, he spent years trying to formulate the way to get out of there with his younger brother. If he could get out of there with Saeran, then he would never look back because that place was a living hell.

He wouldn't want to look back at it because he would have what he wanted. He would have his brother and the clothes on his back. But, he didn't get to have that because he had to leave his brother behind due to his deal with the agency. So, what does the representation of his childhood home mean to him? It wasn't the house that mattered to him, it was his brother.

But, much like how Saeran mentions that that house was a representation of life with his brother and mother… does it bother Saeyoung, too? Saeran got a single chance to go back to that home in the end of Ray Route.

It was overwhelming and traumatizing for him to go back to that place, but in other ways, it was a good thing because it reminded him of all the good things he had with his brother in that place. Even though it's hard for him to go through that for the sake of trying to find evidence to save his brother, he goes through with it because it's a part of the process of his closure.

However, because it burned down, Saeyoung is never going to have that. He won’t get the chance to decide if he wanted to go back there or not to confront his demons.

It's not clear if he would even want to go back to that place, but he doesn't even get the opportunity to decide that for himself. It's similar to how he'll never be able to face his mother. He wants nothing to do with his father or his mother, nor would he follow the path that Saeran did to find closure… But if he wanted to tell them off or make them pay for everything they did to him, he should be allowed that opportunity.

He's just never going to get that opportunity. I think he should be allowed to hit Saejoong as much as he wants, just as much as Saeran was right to have a talk with his father.

The boys have had many things taken away from them over the years and it is hard to think about that. Even in the context of the Secret Ending, Saeyoung and Saeran don’t get to face all their demons. Seeing them in their childhood home can be bittersweet in many ways because it was good memories for them but also nightmares. It's hard to describe the feelings you can have about a house of horrors when it was also your only safe place at the same time.

It's difficult to explain that to people who haven't lived through that kind of abuse. Not everybody has the same feelings about the household where things went wrong for them. A lot of people would like the place to be burned to the ground and other people might like to go through the household to be able to sort out their feelings. Then there are people who don't care what happens to the place either way. I don't know, when I see these things, I think about the different kinds of closure that they get throughout the game and it gets to me.

But, yeah, it turns out they're in their childhood home in this picture and the only reason why that threw me off guard was because the background is so vibrant and white. I am so used to seeing their house as this dilapidated household. It isn't a place that feels like it should have any light because their mother doesn't want it to have that. The house never looks like a place that should be warm or inviting. But, to me, the fact that this photo is bright... kind of feels like we’re just seeing through the eyes of the boys.

This doesn't have to be a depressing memory because it's not one. The two of them have each other and this is a representation of that feeling they have when their mother isn't around and they get to just be little kids. They are having a normal experience that any child would have and there's something poetic about that. That's why this picture doesn't look dark or depressing.

They are getting a brief moment of what it feels like to just be a normal kid who is excited to realize that they've grown a little bit since their last birthday.

That is especially a good thing for two kids that are malnourished and not taken care of. It's a well-known fact that the two of them appear much younger than they actually are for quite a long time. That's why Saeyoung looks so happy here. Even though they're in the worst kind of situation, they are alive and they are growing. Despite the fact that nobody wants them to be alive, they are alive and they are together. That doesn't have to be a bad thing.

Saeyoung won’t let Saeran see it as a bad thing. He is fighting hard every step of the way to make sure that his little brother knows that they are going to get out of that house one day and they are going to live the life they deserve. They just have to keep fighting every year no matter what. They will get there and that's what this picture says to me.

It's been another year around the Sun and it's a good thing that they're alive. It has to be. I can even see those stickers as a representation as a countdown clock. Saeyoung would use stickers to mark their progress. He would try to lighten Saeran’s hopes and dreams by saying that once Saeran is tall enough to reach the rocket, they can get out of there. Sure, it might be the fallacy of the childhood fantasy to think that that could be the case, but they are children and they need a reason to keep going.

Saeyoung is a kid, just like his brother, but he’s been parentified and it shows all the time. Look at how Saeyoung always said that they shared a body, so if they had any good things happen to one of them, it also happened to the other. That was the only way Saeyoung could help Saeran feel like he was growing up with experiences he rightly deserved to have. You know what hurts more?

The fact that Saeyoung always tried to make a fuss about Saeran’s height... and the very first thing he says to him in Saeran’s After Ending—

It will show in ways he doesn't even realize for the rest of his life. I guess that's besides the point since I should be talking about the details of the picture, but you know that I can't help myself once I get started talking about the boys. You guys know I'm guilty about talking on and on and on in a tangent. Stickers! The stickers are really cute. I think he probably got them from Rika, but I don’t know for sure. You can’t gauge the twins by looks to figure out their ages, after all.

The little stars are what made me cry, actually.

[Link to Twitter Thread]

115cm is 3'9"ft.

110cm is 3'7"ft.

This is the first time we’ve gotten heights for the twins as children so I’m just so floored. I did do some math on this, though. This picture has to take place before they knew Rika or V. How do I know that? It’s because Rika’s Behind Story gives us a character sprite for teenage Saeyoung and I can use her height to tell you a guesstimate of his height at that time. Not a lot of people know about that since I know a lot of people don’t touch Rika content.

I’ll give y’all that while I’m at it.

So!

Rika is 5′2″. If I use her height to gauge Saeyoung’s height at the time, he is right about 4′11″ or 5′0″. So, this photo has to be well before that takes place all things considered. Saeyoung would’ve needed to hit a major growth spurt to move from his height of 3′9″ to reach that height. Considering how malnourished the boys in this game are, well... it’s hard to know how fast they’re growing considering their bodies never match their ages when they’re kids.

Rika and V commented often how they didn’t look their ages. So,

This is what the difference is between this flashback and the present day. I did a lot of configuring to gauge how old the boys were when this image takes place. I can tell you that at the maximum, the boys are younger than 14 years old in that photo. Saeyoung joins the agency at roughly 14-15 years old depending on what you’re reading or playing in the game since the timeline is just like that. If I had a guess on their age here, I would say they’re somewhere between 9 and 11. That feels about as close as I can place them.

However, I did have a thought when I was working on this. It occurred to me that there is a photo of teenage Saeran out there with him standing next to Rika and V from the After Ending. Now, the two of them are leaning over so that makes it hard to approximate the heights but I’m going to take a shot in the dark for this one.

So, Saeran is always going to trail right under Saeyoung when it comes to how tall he is and I can use my approximation of Saeyoung to figure out how short he is in this particular photo!

Since Saeyoung’s head capped at about Rika’s forehead, that’s how I was able to gauge where his rough height would be. In this photo, Rika has her head just tilted a bit to the side. But, if she were to straighten her back, the top of Saeran’s head would fall somewhere around the area around her mouth and chin. Which, would make sense if Saeyoung’s initial guessed height put him above that. With that in mind, (discount V here, he’s too tall for his own good and he’s squatting to make his work), Saeran’s height here is probably around 4′10″.

Which, knowing that would allow me to make a comprehensive view of what the twins were like at major points in their life. This is just my guess, so take all of it with a grain of salt! You guys know me, I have to spend hours figuring out these details for fun.

It was difficult for me to tell it first but I do think what Saeyoung is writing is his brother's name. The characters more or less seem similar but since it's written in a childish script, I had to do a double take to make sure that was the case since I am no expert in Hangul and I don’t want to say it’s something when I didn’t take a second glance to make sure. 최세란 is Choi Saeran, after all. That detail is the part that makes me want to cry. I know Saeyoung is the one that has to teach his brother who to write.

I want to believe in my heart of hearts that the first word Saeyoung learned how to write was his brother’s name so he could teach him. I don’t think he would’ve asked to learn how to spell his name.

Another thing I should point out is that I didn't expect them to draw the twins in any clothes that weren't already shown to us at the start. The boys don't exactly have options when it comes to their wardrobe. The only clothes they get to wear are the ones that likely come from a donation bin and nothing more than that. Over the years, the boys haven't been drawn in much of anything outside of the basic outfits we've been shown from the start when their children. Meaning that Saeyoung is in a hoodie, and Saeran is in a button-down.

There is something ominous about the fact that Saeyoung picked up a jersey with the number seven on it. I know realistically it's just a fun detail that the artist decided to add to the picture but I'm not the kind of person that would want to go with that since it's not as fun for me from an angle of analysis.

It's almost like a representation of what's to come and I don't think any of us want to think about that. I do really love what they drew Saeran in, though. It’s a simple shirt with a pocket, but imagine the trinkets he could carry in those pockets!

Crying at the thought of him finding a special rock or flower to take back home after a trip with Saeyoung. Anyway, I think it's really all I have to say about this picture this time around. I could go on and on and on about different thoughts and theories I have about their childhood but that could go on forever if I’m being honest. I can just say that it's been 7 years since I met Saeran and Saeyoung for the first time.

I will forever be grateful I had the opportunity to get to know these characters because if it wasn't for them, I wouldn't be here with all of you today. I don't know where I would be or what I would be doing. They found me at the lowest moment of my life and I thank them every day for being with me.

I could say that a hundred times over and I definitely have in the past. But it doesn't stop being true every time I say it. I love these guys from the bottom of my heart and I know they care about me too. Just as much as I know they care about the rest of you, too. That's the good thing about these characters. They have not only helped many of us realize that we wanted to survive no matter what, but they've learned that they deserve to keep going no matter what, too.

That's why this particular picture hits so hard in the first place because it's a representation of the idea that even if we are stuck somewhere, we can get out no matter how dark things seem.

If Saeran and Saeyoung can do it, we all can. 

[andiftheycare]

hello, who is your fav in jjk?

Hello! Oh, this is tricky because I love most of the characters, honestly, so I’m just picking the ones I’m more inclined towards.

My faves are currently Geto and Megumi.

Geto because I quite like how Gege decided to make a kind character - not nice, not polite, plain kind - and twist him at the end. I like that Geto needs to have meaning in what he does, that he translates the kindness he had for his friends to kindness to his cult-family. I like that when he removed himself from the jujutsu society, he didn’t go for any ill-plotted revenge plan nor he tried to convince his friends to follow him (thats not the point, really.). And of course, I’m not saying I condemn his ideology - but the little we’ve shown of him makes for an interesting character, which somehow made my brain click. I think it also helps, in this case, that I watched JJK when I was at peak burn out, so I projected a bit of that in him.

Megumi because he could’ve easily been a Wannabe Sasuke Uchiha type of character and he’s not?? I like that he’s the type of character that cares about those few people in his inner circle, but has no restrain in hurting others when the situation arises/for self-defence (see: beginning of the culling games arc, how he acts vs how Yuuji acts). I like that Gege shows him go feral during battle, in a way that he does only with Gojo, and how that contrast with otherwise daily Megumi. And honestly, I think he’s the only one thinking normally amongst the first years and second years and I gotta give him credit for that.

Special mention to Nobara, Yuuji and Gojo, because they have bits of my heart, and to Yuuta and Rika, because they deserved better.

Basically I have v basic taste anon!!

[annbourbon]

My head is getting crazier apparently lol cause I have a huge idea about how to connect Mysme AND The Ssum. Hear me out!

Ah right~ ⚠️Spoiler Alert⚠️

Timeline:

Zen: It is said during Teo route that we dated Zen sometime ago.

So Zen was our first boyfriend according to this tl. Probably will not remember us because of the Reset Theory. It does have some flaws. I admit. Because of his dreams, be might as well remember us. But what if he doesn't remember us at the very beginning? Like, what if by the time he remembers we're already in another route so he doesn't always gets the chance to be with us unless we're in his route?

In some routes like Jumin he does say to have a dream about a cage (in a call) and tried his best to warn us. Not to mention that he's always dreaming about something happening to us as MC basically the day after we enter a route. Which would obviously leads into this theory that he does remembers but only when it's too late so he instead chooses to let us be happy. TBH I feel like he's also trapped. In a different way but, he is.

Teo:

200 Days

During this route it is said that we do not know who Harry is. Right? But Jaehee, Mint Eye and even Elizabeth the 3rd are making their appearances every now and then. The cult it's say to be around but it's barely starting so that's why we see them trying to reclute some people. I guess we can say even Rika had a hard time starting. And that it's difficult to start lol sometimes we have the opportunity to make fun of it. But they tried to have Teo in their lines. And apparently some other characters.

June:

400 days?

We start strong now cause thanks to June, we meet more of Jumin's world. And we even have some pics with Rika and V. Please take into account that what I've been saying it's only without playing his route yet. I have at most one or maybe 2 weeks of game in his route. But I saw a lot of spoilers and people saying that the timeline is ruined or stuff so in a way I wanted to talk about my theory since some interactions are really interesting there, and I feel we as players have another look onto it.

It's quite obvious Jumin hasn't reach his peak years yet but there are already a lot of people calling him a promise~ nothing but the best for him. Why then he doesn't mentioned to us his brother? I have 2 theories. The most simple one is June is a difficult topic to touch considering South Korea approach to people who are different, crazy or out of norm. Like, just having a wheel chair or a baby sets you aside. Let's not talk about being always sick or mentally ill, much less neurodivergency. They don't fit and they are treated as nothing. And maybe MC is not gonna talk bad about his brother, but there was a lot of drama in every route, please take into account that even though we play the game (Mystic Messenger) there might be even more content we are unaware of. If anything, it's great to have more of this world. (I don't approve what Cheritz is doing about AI and as a company, but that is that and this is this~)

My other theory is that June died. Dark. I know, but it's not unexpected if we see his health issues.

Henri: I swear I had the whole thing planned on and I even had how many days approximately he would have but beats me. I lost the paper where I wrote my timeline. Anyways~ we now have someone who knows Jumin and doesn't like him because he doesn't know him. Anyways it is said that his route begins after June's first season. I took the time to see everything, date included and it does match! Besides, Jumin gets Elizabeth the 3rd during his route. There are some discrepancies but I'm working around them. I'll show you as soon as I can get my notes back♡

The Angel: Despite what it is said and the picture (yeah, thx spoilers TT)

I don't believe for one second that that guy is the Angel. Like, it doesn't fit at all cause we don't have interaction with anyone outside the chat. So I believe there's only one answer~

It just not that, but we also begin to get closer and closer to Mystic Messenger Events. Yes, I believe it's the same MC. We don't date the angel. But we do have a close encounter with them (as far as I know) Maybe it's here were the Bad Ending of Another Route takes place? (The one with MC reporting the incident to the police)

Harry: 271 days?

After that close encounter, we meet Harry. We know him when he's quitting his career. He's also going to MOM but I really need to understand that part. I have yet to finish his route.

And then a couple of months pass by, we have Ray kidnapping MC via playing a game lol and we go with Mysme Timeline.

I also have my suspicions with how Harry's parents were pretty much involved in laundering money through art. Keep in mind that MC is close to Harry and knows the whole thing. That puts her in danger. Harry's parents do seem the kind of people that make others disappear if you're in the way. And MC seems to have been meddling in a lot if things. Plus, V father is also art related.

Actually, art seems to be a theme in both games. Which is one of the reasons I had to come back to all that since inside the community there are a lot of things like gossips, secrets and stories. Anyway, back to V's father, and V of course~ this connects them with:

Anyways the whole thing makes me think that MC is either way younger than the characters in The Ssum. Or she did time travelled. After all the spaceship is there. And there's a couple of choices you can come with where it implies that MC is indeed a fime traveller. I had some notes where I used the calendar to make sure the timeline fit but I lost them lololol so I'll update this as soon as I can with those notes and the rest of my theory♡ it's a promise!

[brighteststar707]

Turn It All Back

Part Three of Don't Say My Name

Part 1 | Part 2 | Masterlist | Read on AO3 (Registered users only)

✦ Saeyoung x gn!Reader

✦ Words: 3407

✦ TW: Death mention, destructive anger

“And… what brought you here?” As if he doesn’t know. He can read it off your face. You were there with him at the funeral, were the one to give him the news. You have been watching him with those same eyes since the day he woke up.   “I’m worried about you.”   The real question is how much do you know? What do you see when you look into his eyes? He can’t bear to look at you and find out.

Saeyoung sits at his desk and absentmindedly watches the screens in front of him. One of the monitors is broken, a web of cracks and multicoloured pixels is all that’s left on the screen. He can’t remember the outburst that caused it, only the sick feeling he got when he realised what he had done. He pretends it’s not broken, though, and keeps flitting his eyes from screen to screen, as if he's anticipating a mission that is never coming.  

This has been an increasingly common occurrence over the past few days as the anger inside him has swelled up, taken up all the remaining space in his body, leaving room for little else. It has resulted in small, isolated outbursts like the one that caused him to break the screen. Manifestations of momentary frustration that he cannot contain.

He feels like a time bomb about to go off, the pressure between his ribs threatening to break him at any moment. The funeral was the last straw. When he is not at the hospital, mask all the way up, putting his only real energy into trying to help Saeran, he loses hours to sitting motionlessly, holding himself tense so he doesn’t do something stupid. In the waiting room seats, in the car, at his desk. Even at the funeral.

He has caught himself fantasising about revenge lately. It is temptingly easy. He'd go quiet for a few days, abduct Rika before she can be sent anywhere out of reach. He would finally be able to ask her all the questions that had been raging in him for so long. He'd deliver justice. Then, he'd finally be free. Or so he tries to believe.

With everyone at fault gone or out of reach, he is the only one his anger has left to hurt. This is the closest thing to catharsis he can picture.

He had seen her at the funeral today. Intentional or otherwise, there was always someone standing between them, keeping them a safe distance apart. He wonders if it was your doing, or perhaps Jumin had been more attentive than Saeyoung had given him credit for. She had been staring at V's picture, oblivious to everyone around her. In a world of her own grief.

It doesn’t take long before his fantasies are interrupted by the more rational side of him that knows that revenge in this form really won’t make things any better. Even if she spoke to him, he doubts anything she would say could make any difference. Killing her would just put more blood on his hands, make him feel more like a monster than he already does.

The robotic voice of his security system suddenly announces a visitor, pulling him from his train of thought. He doesn't care enough to get up. Whoever managed to get through the front gate will just have to come find him themselves if they really want to. It's probably Vanderwood anyway, here to pick up something he forgot.

He was not expecting your voice to ring through the house.

“Saeyoung?”

He straightens up suddenly, wincing when he jostles his arm the wrong way. He scrabbles for the alarm remote to turn it off. Gingerly, he gets up from his chair and rolls out his shoulders, as if it’s going to do anything to ease the tension there. He is equal parts thrilled to see you and anxious to keep you away from him as much as possible.

“I’m here,” he says as he comes out into the living room. It’s a mess. Besides going without Vanderwood’s regular cleanings (Saeyoung does not have the presence of mind to attempt it himself yet), there is more proof of his declining mental state here too. A broken figurine, the robo-dog looking worse for wear after getting in his way. Old takeout containers sitting by the front door. He hopes you won’t see any more of these traces through the house before he can set them right.

You’re already there, waiting for him in the middle of the room. There is a strange dissonance in seeing you here under the fluorescents. He has come to associate you with warmth and comfort, starry skies and sun coming in through the windows. The real, the beautiful. There is nothing in this house that is real (not in the way that it relates to him), much less beautiful.

You take him in slowly. For the first time, he feels self-conscious of how poorly he has been taking care of himself. His clothes are crumpled (he hasn’t gotten changed since getting back from the funeral), his hair is a mess. He knows he has dark circles and he can’t remember the last real meal he ate. Belatedly, he notices he is still holding the remote.

“How did you get in?” He asks to try and deflect your attention away from him.   

“Vanderwood lent me their dictionary. Turns out my Arabic isn’t too bad.” 

He assumes that Vanderwood also gave you the address. Traitor.  

“And… what brought you here?” As if he doesn’t know. He can read it off your face. You were there with him at the funeral, were the one to give him the news. You have been watching him with those same eyes since the day he woke up.  

“I’m worried about you.”  

The real question is how much do you know? What do you see when you look into his eyes? He can’t bear to look at you and find out. He does what he knows best instead.  

“Oh, this?” He gestures vaguely to himself and the space around them, “It’s better than it looks, I promise. It’s just with Saeran… ah… you know how I get.” 

“Saeyoung.” 

“Please,” and now his voice is pleading. More desperate than he wanted it to sound. Please let it go, he thinks, I can’t talk about it or I’ll shatter. “I’m fine.” 

“Fine?” You echo. His pupils are big and dark, all but swallowing up his irises. He looks possessed. “I thought we promised that we’d tell each other the truth.” 

The memory hurts. It’s bright, coloured in a happiness that seems almost unreachable to him now. He will be the first to admit that he has fallen into old habits, keeping you just out of reach for your own safety. And he hates it. Now that he has grown used to the comfort you bring, he hates to be apart from you. It’s just that lately he has been afraid of exploding and hurting everyone around him. His roughest edges are out on show, and he is barely keeping them contained. He'd rather he be the only person he hurts.

So, he deflects again.

“You… don’t want to know what I’m thinking.”  

“Bullshit.” 

He looks surprised. You’ve never spoken to him this way before. But this isn’t the time for delicate approaches. He will take any out you give him. 

You know full well that the funeral was the last drop in the bucket that was on the brink of overflowing. You had caught the sharpness to his words, the way he kept his hands clenched into fists to keep them from shaking earlier today. And that terrible stillness. That’s the biggest tell. As if someone has robbed him of his essence and left behind an eerie impostor.

Opposite you, his demeanour has shifted. He has squared off his shoulders as if he is preparing for an attack. “Fine. I don’t want you to know. It’s… ugly,” he says.

“That excuse has never worked on me before. I want to know what you’re feeling and thinking, regardless of how bad it is. How am I supposed to support you if you won’t let me in?” 

He doesn’t say anything, just watches you stubbornly.  

More softly, you add, “you know I’m not going to think less of you for what you’re thinking, right?” 

In theory, he does. He has come to trust you completely. It’s still hard to believe in practice, though. Being in his own head so much lately has made it hard to imagine that you wouldn’t be disappointed in him, or worse, repulsed by what he has become. He doesn’t know what will become of him if he ever lets go of his building anger completely.

God, does he wants to, though. There is a part of him that wants to put himself in your hands and trust that you’ll know how to help him. It’s almost a relief that you were stubborn enough to come and find him yourself . He loves and hates that you would chase him down just to break down his walls, over and over again. 

He knows just by looking at you that you’re not going to give up. And in that moment, he has to trust that you are as strong as you have proven to be so far. That you will catch him if he crumbles.

“What… do you want to know?” He finally says. His posture relaxes slightly, his eyes not empty but fearful, as if even he doesn’t know what is coming next.  

“What are you thinking?” 

“I… I don’t –” It dies in his throat. It’s nothing coherent. A hot, restless fury, fantasies of blood and revenge and the inescapable reality of the damage that has been inflicted. 

“Okay, then let’s talk about Saeran instead. How is his treatment going?”  

He deflates a little bit. You know him too well. The details of Saeran’s care are imprinted on his brain, and they start to tumble out of his mouth without needing any more prompting.  

"It's not. He is resisting treatment; the doctors don't know what to do with him. He won't talk to me and he- " his breath catches when he thinks about how broken he looked the last time he saw him. Not just physically, but mentally too. The emptiness in his eyes as he watches the clouds passing by his window. “The doctors say that his condition indicates years of drug use.” He grits his teeth. “Years.”  

The anger that had temporarily subsided in your presence flares up again. It fills his lungs and burns his throat as the memories come all at once. That list of chemicals, the blue substance they discovered after raiding the Mint Eye compound. The side effects, the withdrawal symptoms. The testimonies of former cult members coming out every day – the ceremonies and the punishments. His brother’s eyes, icy mint where they were once warm amber.  

He instinctively wants to put it out, change the subject before he can’t breathe anymore and his heart starts to hammer too hard. At the back of his throat, it all builds up, begging to be let out. It's too much.

You’re looking at him encouragingly, urging him to push through it. So, he lets the spark catch. The more painful realisations start to come out, and these hurt more to say.

“They forced that stuff on him for years and put him through hell. They lied to me, sent me those pictures to keep me quiet while they abused him! It was never supposed to be this way!”

His voice is already getting louder, but you don’t flinch, so he doesn’t try to stop it. He hasn’t said any of this out loud yet, and in a way, this feels more like a way for him to untangle the mess in his mind than it is to answer your question. You let him talk regardless.

 “V spoke to me almost every day and he never told me how bad things were! He told me to defend the RFA against the hacker! He knew who I was fighting and did it anyway! How DARE he!” Every time he says V’s name, it’s with venom.  "I might have made things worse for Saeran by just-" His voice gives out before he can finish.

He doesn't fight against the memories that resurface.

Saeran’s skills at hacking, the years it must have taken, the toll it took on his health. That keyboard at the compound, the letters on the keys long since rubbed away from use.  The list of injuries he sustained, old scars and new bruises, the chronic malnutrition and lack of sleep, and – somehow the most offensive – the extensive scarring around his wrists and ankles from being physically restrained.

Blood is pounding in his ears. He wants to scream, to sob for every second Saeran had to endure in that place. It is impossible to think clearly when all he can hear is his heart racing and all he can see when he closes his eyes is the pain and regret in V’s eyes when they were back in that cell. It wasn’t enough, and it is all he will ever get. 

“This was supposed to be the beginning. We were supposed to be free. But how am I supposed to live with his fingerprints on everything in our lives? I go into Saeran’s hospital room every single day and he threatens to kill me. How am I supposed to move on?” He says that last part mockingly, echoing what one of his doctors had told him before he was discharged. “He let Saeran be tortured! Who gave him the right to meddle in our lives? We were kids!”

In that moment, his fury feels inescapable. Embedded in his flesh, impossible to separate from himself without turning into a bloodied wreck.

“You asked me what I have been thinking recently? I wish I was the one to kill him. I wish I could have ruined him exactly how he ruined us. I wish I could show him what any father of mine truly deserves.”

It’s all too much, it needs to get out out out before it chokes him.

He hears the plastic of the remote cracking against the floor and then feels it under his heel as he grinds it into the tiles. It takes a second for his mind to catch up.

He looks back to you suddenly, expecting the worst, shame already clawing at his insides. He is already looking for any trace of disgust on your face, or worse, fear. But you only look mildly surprised.

“Saeyoung, you’re crying.”

He touches a hand to his cheek to find that it’s wet. How long has he been crying for? He isn’t sure. You reach out to cup his cheek. The tenderness in your eyes makes him feel brittle, on the brink of shattering.

He takes a ragged breath and then says, “That boy… in the pictures… that was who Saeran was supposed to be. Happy, in the sun. Carefree. Now, he might never -” he doesn't want to finish that thought. Shakily, he continues, "I was the one supposed to suffer for us. He should never have known this kind of life even existed."

You intervene, meaning to stop him before he can follow that line of thinking further. You clasp his hand in yours, try to straighten out his fingers, warm them up in your own (they're uncharacteristically cold).

"The responsibility of saving yourself and your brother should not have fallen solely on you. They should have protected you too," you continue.

He goes cold. Your statement tugs at something in him. A feeling so old it is etched into his bones, remembering it sends a dull ache through his body. It’s more instinctive than a clear memory he can define.

When he was young, there must have been a moment where he had wished that he didn’t have to hurt so much to keep Saeran safe. But that thought might as well have been sacrilege. He quickly repressed it, put it somewhere far out of reach, and grew around it.

But the way you've put it, so matter-of-factly, without any space for doubt, has unearthed that feeling, brought it back with a renewed strength, made it impossible to ignore.

His anger so far has felt overwhelming, too complicated to handle. This anger is simple. Childlike, almost.

He is Luciel, naming himself after the devil, and nobody intervenes. He is told that he has to do work - commit crimes - to earn money (he would only learn of V's personal riches later on in life and never connect the dots). He brings down international servers at the age of fourteen, because he'd rather be a criminal than watch his brother go hungry again. Nobody intervenes.

He is Agent 707, aged sixteen, fresh out of agency training, body aching and mind wiped blank. He is breaking codes he didn't know he had until it was too late, crossing lines that he never had the luxury of setting. Killing someone for the first time, taking on assignments without knowing who he is serving. Begging V and Rika, the only people he trusts in the world, for any indication that he is doing this for something greater than  himself, because the concept of himself as a person is fading further every day.  

He had always taken these struggles as a necessity, the sacrifices he has to make to keep his brother safe. He trusted V and Rika to guide him in the right direction, to know better than he did. They told him the agency was his best option, so he took it without question.

It’s only in hindsight that he realises just how much of himself he lost to that decision.

It’s in the knowledge that, despite being unconscious at the time, he can picture exactly how Saeran felt on that fateful day at Mint Eye. The cold metal, clasped in his hands. The shot, the recoil, the ringing in his ears. That momentary sense of relief, because he had bought himself more time, immediately followed by the sick seeping sense of guilt at what he’d done. He has been there many times himself. It is a feeling he’d do anything to take off of Saeran’s hands.

Again, more muted this time, he feels that surge of anger through his body, wishing he could pull V out of hell now and squeeze the life out of him himself and save Saeran that pain, at least.

There is a child in him, begging to be heard, wondering if he really was deserving of better. For the first time, he listens.

He inhales sharply through his teeth. "If I believe that then..."

"Then everything else falls apart," you finish.

If, he said. But it has already taken a hold in his head. The belated frustration he is feeling on his own behalf, the way his past memories are being tainted. And, yes, it all falls apart.

His voice is fragile, the question devastating in its simplicity. “Why? What did we do?”

The fight has left him. The anger has forced its way out and has left him raw and tired. With no defensive buffer, there is only the pain left to feel. You reach for his other hand and guide him to the sofa with you. He sinks into it warily and melts at your touch.

You give his hands a squeeze. “You didn’t deserve it.”       

“There’s so much… where do I put it all? I can’t get away from it… I can’t let it go. It’s ruining me.”

“I don't know. There isn't an easy way out. But allowing yourself to feel the things you're feeling is better than the alternative. You can’t hurt yourself forever. I won’t let you.”

He lets that sink in. You wrap your arms around him and he allows himself to feel small for a moment. He can feel the breath you take before you speak again.

“You know I’m always here to catch you, right?” 

And for the first time, he does completely.

You comb your fingers through his hair. He takes a breath, then another. Each one hurts, but it feels good to focus his energy on one action.

You both know that this isn’t the end. That this isn’t the last time this conversation will have to happen, but he feels a certain relief in knowing that he made it through this one. That you will be here to hold him through the next one and the one after that. Maybe it won’t kill him and maybe he doesn’t have to become a monster consumed by it.

He can only hang on for a day when he isn’t ruined by everything he has lost and suffered.

[hinamie]

hi hina what are your top three pokemon games??

b/w & b2/w2 I BELIEVE IN GEN5 SUPREMACY !!! the MUSIC!!!! THE GRAPHICSSS GOD THE LIMITED 3D GRAPHICS THEYRE SO CHARMING!!!!!!! not to mention the loml N!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! god i feel so much about N. honestly the motivations of the evil team r actually so interesting and I think it makes for some of the most compelling story u see in the early pokemon games. pokemon liberation??? hello???? it's one thing to want to take over the world or like. flood the earth but to manipulate the masses and play to people's guilty conscience by insinuating that they might be Hurting pokemon by keeping them captive??? they did not have to cook so severely with that concept but i'm so glad they did. That being said I think I prefer the story of the original b/w games just because of how new and unsettling it was to encounter team plasma for the first time and all the interactions with N, but I do rly appreciate how the sequels expounded on them! colress is ok as a villain and even more ok as mad scientist twink eyecandy so I'll allow him gfsdjh I also do like that b2/w2 included more pokemon in the base games I love you early riolu i love you castelia city eevee encounter,,,. I also LOVE how they tried to pull a Trainer Red 2.0 with the postgame battle against the b/w MC in the sequels god gen5 is so GOOD :’)

Platinum i mean is anyone surprised hfdsjg sinnoh is art to me. fr all i rave about gen5 gen4 is the one I grew up with and played alongside my friend group as a kid so when it comes to the nostalgia factor, sinnoh is unmatched. The legendaries in this gen r iconic and so well designed there is not a single one that sticks out as a hard miss. sinnoh gave us cresselia and darkrai it gave us 2 forms of shaymin it gave us !!! glaceon!!!!!!!! i love u sinnoh always <3

hg/ss listen i know these games get a bit of a bad rep for having poor power scaling and being baby games in terms of difficulty but i do not care bc i can see my guys walking behind me and that is all i care about argue with a wall!!!!! also pokeathelon >>>>>>>> 

i also have to give an honourary mention to sw/sh gdfshjgdsjk games that arguably get an even Worse rep ik but hear me out. they were my return to the pokemon games after having skipped gens 6-7 entirely and I enjoyed my playthrough SO much I genuinely had so much fun. I wasn’t too put off by the glitches or the objectively bad plot, I was just so happy to be playing pokemon again :’> ALSO I am a proud Hop defender I respect the hell out of the writers for the arc they gave him. Was it rushed and underdeveloped yes but by pokemon game standards? I honestly found Hop’s self-doubt n identity crisis super moving sue me. Also the trainer character designs r so GOOD RAIHAN CALL ME 

another honourary mention to s/v gfjhd i haven't played it personally bc I could not get past the graphics of it but speaking of compelling pokemon storytelling,,, Arvin mr. mommy/daddy issues I care abt u so much. ALSO CHAR DESIGN HEAVEN HELLO LIKE GRUSHA?? RIKA??? CALL M E

[ciaossu-imagines]

MYSTIC MESSENGER V WITH ARRANGED MARRIAGE AU PLEASE thank you I always enjoy reading your writings

Aww, you're so sweet, my dear! I'm really flattered to hear you enjoy reading my stuff and I hope you'll enjoy this as well. I had a lot of fun with this, honestly, so thank you so much for the request!

Okay, so I don't actually think it's too much of a stretch to imagine either V's father or Chairman Han, both being from very wealthy and affluential families, setting up arranged marriages for their children. So this 'AU' isn't really a huge shift in universe. I think the biggest change, going into this, is that V and Rika never met. I can see V still having met and helped Saeyoung and Zen, but the RFA was never founded and Rika is never a thing with V.

In fact, relationships were never really a thing with V. He's dated here or there but nothing serious. His life just is too full, too stressful, too busy for dating. V's relationship with his father is very contentious. V is still very much working as a photographer and his work is very well received and beautifully done. People pay top dollar for it but he never really achieves fame because he avoids the public eye and that is something that his father holds against him.

V's father wants his son to set aside his photography career, to take over the family business. To smarten up and behave as the son and heir to the family should, in other words. And V's father has tried numerous ways of forcing V into doing so.

And the newest of those ways? It's definitely the arranged marriage decided upon by V's father and your own parents, who do own a major corporation but are rather nouveau-riche. This really does set them aside as lesser than by a lot of people and they view this arranged marriage as a way to elevate your families status in the wealthy circles and V's father sees it as a way to force his son to settle down, start a family, and because he'll have a wife and hopefully children to take care of, it only makes sense that V would set aside his 'silly' artistic endeavors and take up his mantle in the business world with the family company.

It seems perfect, at least to the parents of both of you.

To both you and V though, the idea is a little less than ideal. You're prepared to hate V out of pure hatred for the idea. You aren't even sure about your stance on marriage. You may or may not want marriage to be a thing in your future, but the fact of the matter is that even if you do want to get married, you want to get married to someone you choose, someone you truly love. You don't want to be forced into anything and that force is what you hate the most.

V, meanwhile, is nothing but angry at this turn of events. But as I've mentioned, V doesn't deal well with anger. He doesn't know how to handle it at all, doesn't know how to deal with it, and feels disgusting for the huge surges of anger he is feeling. So instead he focuses that anger into other emotions. He's feeling super guilty and ashamed of his father's actions, of the pressure this puts on you when he walks into the restaurant where the two of you were to be introduced by your parents for the first time.

It surprises you that you find it really hard to hate V right away. It surprises you even more that you feel an automatic tingle of physical attraction to him and you wonder if that tingle was strong enough to really influence your thoughts. But you don't think that was it.

V apologizes, countless times, for the situation you find yourself in. He consistently blames himself for you being forced into this arranged marriage, takes all the blame for it and any anger or sadness you feel about it.

Though it takes a few meetings, because your parents and his father are consistently with the two of you, when the two of you first get together alone, V makes it perfectly clear to you that if you want to get out of the arranged marriage, he will be perfectly okay with that and would not blame you. He even offers to find some way to make sure the arranged marriage ends without you being blamed in any way. He warns you that might take a little bit of time, but he'll figure a solution that will leave nobody with any doubt that the breaking down of the arranged marriage was entirely on him.

Like, the man is so very, very guilty over every and anything related to this and he is always apologizing to you.

Now, I can see the rest of this going in either one of two ways. The first way is that you take V up on that offer of figuring out a way to get out of the marriage. Whether or not you're willing to let him take all the blame is entirely up to you, but either way, he is right in that it will take a little bit of time. The two of you continue to play into your parents, seeing each other often, having 'date nights' used to plan and bounce ideas off each other for how to bring this all to a close. But somewhere along the way, you find your conversations with V actually becoming conversations. The two of you start to actually get to know each other and you start to fall for V a little. He's sweet and kind and creative and he can be funny in a dry, witty way. And he finds himself really falling for you too, but both of you are still convinced that the only thing the other wants is to get out of this arranged marriage.

And besides, V in particular doesn't want to enter a relationship with you on those terms. He doesn't want to be dating you only because the two of you were supposed to be getting married anyway. He spends a lot of time wishing that the two of you had met in any other way, under any other circumstances.

So, in this ending, I do see the marriage contract ending, just like the two of you had planned and it does break your heart and breaks V's heart. V withdraws, he needs to heal some of how much he hurts when things with you seem to be over for good, when he thinks he'll never really see you again. The two of you go months without seeing each other until you bump into each other again. It could be at a party, through mutual friends, or maybe you purposefully tracked down a show he was doing and showed up to the gallery to see him again. Either way, the two of you start talking again and I think this time, without the expectation of marriage there, with more free-will from the start, the attraction the two of you have towards each other has more room to grow and really bloom and the two of you end up dating.

The alternate way this could go? You refuse to break the arranged marriage. As much as you hate it, you're so loyal to your family and your parents and care about them too much. You know how much this means to them. So the marriage does go through and the story becomes V and you learning how to be a married couple together, how to get over the forced approach to the relationship with each other. It involves learning to be friends first, helping V heal the shame and guilt he's feeling, helping him really stand up to his father and prove that, even married, he does not and will not inherit the family company, that he is happy with his art. It involves a very, very slow burn love story, with lots of drama and conflicts, which can also be really fun.

[cephydeluxe]

okokokok so I was listening to chappell roan 2 spite ms.sw*ft and like

wasn’t expecting 2 be hit with rika feels so I’ll try 2 be a tad coherent…..

so first of all, you will never convince me that rika is anything but a heavily closeted lesbian for most of her life, being adopted by extremely religious conservatives, and even being influenced by the church when she lived in an orphanage, being taught that her desires were bad and that made her innately evil and disgusting no matter what,,,,,, and her constantly torn between wanting to appease her family to be loved for once in her life, to “unleashing the devil” to keep herself safe from her tormentors,,,,,, yeah she refuses 2 acknowledge that she like women even if the truth slapped her in the face for a long time,,,,

And even when she meets V and “falls in love” with him,,,, when in actuality she just wants to be loved by another person so bad that deluding herself that she feels attraction to him is easy, twisting her envy for V into romantic interest,,, AND HER ENVY FOR V,,,,,,,, omg I could go on abt it forever but I’ll sum it up to its bare bones like,,,

“ I’m envious of V because he has the ability to love me endlessly, it comes naturally to him, and deep down, despite my attempts to fool myself into believing differently, I don’t feel love for him the way I’m supposed to. This must mean I’m incapable of feeling love, and my abusers were right, and I’m a horrible monster.”

(And I could go on about how wrong she is about v’s “love” but this post is already incoherent)

BUT LIKE,,,,, ITS SO OBVIOUS SHES JUST PERFORMING COMHET, but she can’t come out it!! Because:

If she breaks up with v, then her abusers were right, she’s incapable of love inherently, and therefore doomed

If she says “fuck it” and comes out, then she’s guaranteed to be dogpiled by her family and their community, either constantly harassed or completely ostracized and isolated, or most likely both. Not to mention having to “give in to her devil” wouldn’t help her self image.

And I’m not saying being a closeted lesbian is the reason she broke down, but I am saying it was like,,,,,, 40% of the reason at the least,,,,,, cause it ties into so many of her other issues,,, it exasperates all of them at once uuuuhhhhhggg (((*hooked up to life support brain dead but still rambling*)))

Eventually she DOES break down and creates mint eye (fucking love that she modeled her paradise off of V cause of her envy, holy shit I love it sm) and embraces her devil, she comes to accept the idea that she likes women,,,, and falls in love with MC in V route,,, AND SHE SAYS SHIT LIKE,,,,

“Oh I’ve never felt this way before, I stare at the moon longingly and think of you, can you just come back and be my moon and I’ll brush your hair?”

BUT LIKE,,,, ITS TOO LATE CAUSE SHES ALREADY TOO FAR GONE IN HER “DARKNESS” FOR MC TO COME BACK!! it’s the irony of because rika embraced her devil led her to coming out of the closet somewhat and accept the idea of loving a woman,,, but BECAUSE she let the devil loose it cost her the love of the only person she’s ever loved genuinely DO YOU SEE THE VISION……… im losing consciousness someone herlp-

[anas-tasiaa]

Another day another love for them

Never wanted a family other than Saeran???

My everything??? HELLO????

TELL ME HOW I COULDN’T LOVE THEM??? 

Their unshakeable, unwavering affection for one another? There was not a single doubt in their minds about their love. They would eventually find their way back to each other, no matter their circumstances or difficulties, since that is what they pledged when they were young. 

Do you say their love isn't pure and's not something to cherish? Saeyoung's passion for Saeran is evident throughout the story; no matter whatever route we take, even in the seasonal chatrooms, his thinking, thoughts, promise, words, and longing are all about Saeran. He has dedicated himself to Saeran's protection and will go to any length to keep Saeran safe, even if it means sacrificing his happiness or putting himself in danger. He mastered complex things about a computer, so Saeran wouldn't; He gave up everything so that Saeran could be happy. He provided everything he had so that Saeran might have everything he desired. You know how much he despises his job, but if it means Saeran is happy, then so be it. There is so much to discuss and list, but it would take 37364748 slides in PowerPoint ok.

SAEYOUNG IS WILLING TO GIVE HIS LIFE FOR SAERAN

Like, seriously, he's so devoted yet so loving.

His love for Saeran is literally the theme of Mystic Messenger. Every route, every time. It was Saeran's presence that he yearned for.

Yoosung's route (unexpected encounter)

Jumin's route (Unexpected encounter)

His own route (obviously)

V's route (He suspected that Ray is Saeran & waited for 2 years to finally reunite with Saeran)

Ray's route (All the issues with Saeejong and his first thought is "Is saeran safe?")

Christmas DLC (He hates Christmas because Saeran isn't with him. He wants to believe Saeran is happy out there)

Valentine's DLC (Saeyoung's doll with "brother" as the name)

Birthday chatroom special (Castor and Pollux)

Chuseok season chatroom (He wishes at the moon for Saeran's happiness)

As for Saeran, man, do we have to explain this??? He CLEARLY, DEFINITELY, CERTAINLY adores Saeyoung with all his heart.

I don't know why this fandom depicted Saeran as irritated as he can be when his Saeyoung is present??? Like, please understand that this is merely a stage in his recovery journey, not a personality attribute. He pushes Saeyoung away out of fear that he will be hurt again and as a self-defence mechanism, but he doesn’t hate Saeyoung. He just needs time to be "himself" again. He adores Saeyoung as much as Saeyoung adores him. Saeran's feelings for Saeyoung are strongly ingrained; even after days of brainwashing, he couldn't truly hate Saeyoung. He longs for a connection with him. He waited YEARS for Saeyoung. Let's be honest:

He missed Saeyoung.

He wants to be like Saeyoung.

He adored Saeyoung's unwavering love and his optimistic side.

He waited years for Saeyoung without losing hope.

He doesn't want happiness if that means Saeyoung wouldn't be there with him.

He would feel secure, safe and loved if Saeyoung was there with him.

He chooses Saeyoung over happiness.

He lives with his weak body at Mint Eyes because he is determined to return to Saeyoung; he wants explanation and reassurance.

He mentioned the betrayal every time he met Saeyoung because it was painful, like his half was ripped apart. 

He wants nothing more than not to burden Saeyoung with his problem.

He wants to die with him (Yoosung's route)

He feels terrible for hurting Saeyoung with his words.

He loves ice cream because of Saeyoung.

He loves the first sky he saw with Saeyoung.

He wants to give Saeyoung a geranium (a flower with the meaning, "I'm happy because of you.")

He smiled at the photo Rika took for him because he thought Saeyoung would like it.

He wants a camera to take a picture of Saeyoung and keep it so he can see it when Saeyoung is far away.

He learned computer stuff because he wanted to be closer to him.

He feels safe and sound with Saeyoung beside him. (His confession in 707 BRE2)

He loves fireworks and doesn't want Saeyoung to die before him, or he would be so sad.

He's willing to forgive Saeyoung.

He wants to live together with Saeyoung, just two of them. Like what they promised

He doesn't hate Saeyoung. HE IS NOT. He loves him so much that he's willing to give Saeyoung another chance, even though he's scared of being hurt. Even though he waited for years. There's no one, ever, who saved him the way Saeyoung did. He's his savior.

Man, I wish them a happy life together, just two of them, somewhere far, away from troubles. Live the life you love, my sons. I love you two so much. 

[loupy-mongoose]

i know its not entirely related to the series in general but more towards the author ofc.

do you have a top 3 or top 5 favorite characters In pokemon? (game and anime included if you wish to have 3/5 of each) and if so any reason for those characters? :0

Interesting question! I'll try to pick based on their canon selves, and my own opinion of such, rather than the fandom's or my own portrayal of them.

They're listed in no particular order. Just tacked on as I settled on them.

Now, I'm super basic (a lot if not all of these are fan favorites, honestly) and can easily include N in my top 5. Growing up I was one of the peeps who subscribed to the "N is a Zoroark" theory, and I fell in love with the mystery of it all. (I may have had a slight crush on him as well lol) I will say that I recognize that accounts for most of the attachment I have toward the Gen 5 era. X3 (Music being another big factor.) (Cheren and Bianca are honorable mentions. I also had a crush on Cheren. XD)

Another top of mine is Zinnia, mostly because she reminds me of one of my oldest and favorite ocs. (We'll be meeting said oc at some point. :3) She's such a wild, thrilling character!

I'm gonna have to include Arven in the list. He's one of them gruff-but-secretly-sweet guys. Also, tragic backstory ftw. XD

Rika can be included, I suppose. I like stringbean characters, and she's as stringbean as they come. XD Plus her actual character is pretty cool.

Hmmmm... Who's my last one...? I might go with Jacq. I liked him from the moment he was revealed, and just find him a fun, comfortable guy to be around in the game. He makes me happy. ^^

I'm aware that three of them are S/V characters, but... I like S/V, darn it, and they did a bang-up job on the characters! XD But anyway, those are my top picks, at least for the time being. ^^

[marshmallowprotection]

Kait, do you think GE Saeran would have to deal with drug withdrawal effect during the period between his Good Ending and After Ending? It's highly likely, right? I want nothing more than to be by his side and comfort him during those times :(

Unfortunately, yes.

It's not sunshine and roses when it comes to somebody weaning themself off of the kind of drug he was taking. It was a combination cocktail of all sorts of drugs. The solution that makes up the Elixir is never quite the same each time, and the concentrations can be very different.

As far as I know, everything that's in there is bad for you. The Secret Ending tells us a few of the known ingredients but even the doctors are stumped on EVERYTHING that's in it. I've talked about about how he has to be going through a lot of painful symptoms but the game glosses over it because nobody really likes to talk about that kind of stuff. It's not pretty.

Not only that, but it's hard for people to open up about these particular issues since this is stigmatized no matter if somebody is in recovery or not. A good chunk of his time in the hospital has more to do with his physical symptoms than anything else. That is the case for many victims of Mint Eye. The mental duress and exhaustion are going to take a long time to heal, but as for the physical symptoms, some of those issues can be remedied in the meantime. 

It's a mess of migraines, exhaustion, irritability, dehydration, and many other physical and mental symptoms that can differ person to person and substance to substance.

Saeran is going to be dealing with this for a while. Even after he's out of the hospital, I can't see him being comfortable taking any kind of medication outside of something for his migraines. Why in the world would he ever be trustful of medication ever again after he spent so much of his life being forced to take the elixir? Ray called it medicine at one point, you know?

He may not have been taking it for as long as SE Saeran did, but it doesn’t change the fact that he was suffering with the elixir for nearly an entire year. 

He mentions once in the after-ending that he has medication he needs to take, and I imagine that offhand comment has a little bit to do with his recovery process. He takes medicine for migraines, that we know, but given that it’s been nearly a month and some change since we escaped Mint Eye, he’s had time to go to a doctor. Hell, I’m certain Jumin had not only helped him get a doctor, but get his proper government documentation as well. 

So, he is getting the help he needs for his health, but there's only so much they can do for his sake. They can make sure he has the medication he needs to lessen the severity of what he's going through, but it's not going to stop it 100%. He's going to have good days and bad days going forward, and sometimes there will be an itch he just can't scratch.

If you can do anything for him, you should make sure you have your hand ready for him to hold whatever he feels that ungodly feeling that tells him he needs some kind of elixir to make the pain go away. Even though he said he knew he didn't need to take it anymore, it doesn't change his body's response to no longer taking it. He went off of it cold turkey, and I can't imagine it made him feel good in the days following the aftermath. 

Worst case scenario, he keeps up a brave face in front of everybody as you all work together to find his brother, but the minute the two of you are alone, that's when he breaks down and shows you just how bad he feels. It might take a few days for the pain to kick in, but it'll get there, and you'll have to help him talk about… the elixir and what Mint Eye did to him. He may not talk about Rika or V, but he’ll have to tell them why he physically can’t work.