#sending lots of healing and happy vibes

[slaughtermelonj]

It’s so crazy how life changes and how the painful choices led sometimes to amazing things. It’s so weird not having the people I used to have in my life. This would be one of those big moments I’d be sharing with them. However, sometimes the best decision is letting them go. Mourning lost friendships can be so very painful. I hope you’re doing the best and your life is going in the direction you want. I’ll miss you forever like crazy. I hope I made the right decision in letting you go. Hopefully, you can feel this virtual hug and have a weird strange random moment full of happiness. Here’s to our futures 🥰

[rosicheeks]

Omg hii!! 💜

I need to thank you glows been so much fun! I’ve basically been playing since you sent the recommendation, and now I’m gonna be home sick for a few days (finally got Covid…oops)

If you haven’t played it yet you should try cozy grove! It’s my other fav game rn but it’s more paced so you sometimes have to wait for the next day!

Anyways, thanks again, and lemme know if you end up trying cozy grove 🥰🥰🥰 hope you have a fantastic week!!

[ja3honey]

♡ 𝐇𝐮𝐫𝐭𝐬 𝐋𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐇𝐞𝐥𝐥 | 𝐀𝐥𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐧𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐯𝐞 𝐄𝐧𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠 ♡

【Synopsis】 : It's been so long since you've seen your boys. And when the youngest comes knocking on your door, the new life you had only just managed to build comes crashing down.

『Word count』 :  4.8k

-> Genre: Mafia au. Angst. Fluff.

Pairing: Mob Boss!Ot8 Ateez x Reader

[Warnings] : lots of heart ache. The reader is beside herself a lot. Blood. Gore. Death. Torture. Reader gets kidnapped. Tears. Hugging. Lots of cry. Grovelling (we stan a good grovel). And yeah, lots of angst but fluffy at the end. Kissing. Mingi got a dirty mind. Whoops.

Note: uh, so hi. Ahha It's been a while... I finally decided to actually finish the alt ending of this fic. I've had people ask for more, and I honestly forgot about it. But then i saw someone send in THIS request, and it made me want to finish this. So this can be read as a stand-alone. But if you want to read part 1 and the other ending. Go ahead, otherwise enjoyyyyy ♡

Part one | Other Ending

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You were alone. Wandering through life with nothing to hold onto. You were going underwater, and no one was around to help you above the heavy waves. You were numb. Heartbreak ridding you of happiness… Or so you thought.

Through a bottle or two... Maybe three or four. You found at the end of it. You were just as unhappy as you were before you took the first sip. You needed a change. A change of scenery. A change of personality. A completely new life. So there you were two towns over. Maybe not a whole country away from the old you, but this was just as good. A new apartment. New job. Architectural design. You enjoyed it, so dearly. It became something that kept you going. That kept you waking up. You were fighting for a glimpse of happiness in mornings that were still hard, and nights were just as restless as ever.

You were alone. Yes. But you tried.

It's been two whole years. You think you’d forgotten everything by now. But the biggest, deepest pain didn’t seem to heal as quickly as everyone says it does. Fucking Liars…

You were having a break from your long hours of sketching a new mansion floor plan, a private owner wanted it done within the week and for a heavy price and as much as it was a distraction you couldn't help but think how the design the private buyer seemed to want a floor plan that resembled something that one of your old lovers would have loved. The vintage vibe with a green and gold theme matched Mingi and Yunho perfectly. Your brain almost thought maybe they were the private buyer. But why would they go to you after what you had ‘apparently done’ to them? Before you could dwell on the idea anymore, the sound of your doorbell broke your gaze from the large sketch in front of you.

You question why someone would be visiting you at this hour, given that most of your clients would email you beforehand and your ‘friends’ would text. So, who could possibly be at your door? Your heart thumped strangely as if your body knew who was beyond the large oak before you. A ball started to form at the base of your throat. Was this anxiousness you were feeling? Gripping the silver handle, you creek the door open slowly, and when your gaze met the other person you feel your heart stop. 

“Hi…”

You looked at the man with a dumbfounded expression, tilting your head in confusion. Hi? After all these years, hi is what he starts with. What does he take you for? A hopeless woman needing a man to catch her when she falls?

You go to shut the door without a second thought, but he catches it in his strong arms. The same arms that used to hold you. Shield you from all the danger―no stop you didn’t need them when you were completely broken and you most certainly don’t need them now.

“Please let me explain. Honey, I just…” He was scrambling to find his words, his breath catching his throat like he was running a marathon prior to this interaction. “I wanted to see you…tell you.”

“I don’t want to hear it, Jongho.” You finally spoke, silently yelling at yourself for sounding so shaky in your voice when you wanted to be mad, tone-deaf, blunt. But here you are, wanting to cry cause of the anger surging through you. Why must you always cry when you get mad. “You don’t get to come here after almost two fucking years, call me honey and tell me how much you miss me and think I’ll just fall back into your arms as if nothing happened.”

“T-that’s not what I want nor expect from you. I just want―I don’t care what you want. Now get off my porch.” You cut him off, slamming the door in his face before breaking down the minute you heard the latch click. Your legs buckle, sliding down the door before your knees hit the ground, sobbing into your hands. Your heart was breaking all over again, just like the night you left. You wanted nothing more than to run after him, beg him to hold you. But you couldn’t. They hurt you so much. How do you even begin to forgive them for what happened all those years ago?

-

Through the next months, you kept receiving letters, flowers, and gift boxes. Even teddy bears. Why would they give you teddy bears? You think they would have known you from being with them for so long. Throwing yet another soft plush toy on the ever-growing pile that sat in your office. You were beginning to become sick of it. You thought after you yelled at Jongho, he and the others would have gotten the hint, but you guess being dumped by eight mob bosses wasn’t as easy as you thought.

Sighing, you click your tongue, looking at the stack of letters you have yet to burn. You can’t even be bothered to open them, not wanting to even listen to anything they might have to say. But another part of you was curious. Maybe one letter couldn’t hurt, right? Reaching for the one on the top, your fingers grasp the small paper. It’s rough against your skin. Like the paper was made from a poor-quality tree. Odd? Why would your ex-lovers gift you such cheap gifts? Not that you were expecting high-priced gifts, but they had enough money to buy half the world, so you think them getting something with a heavier price tag wouldn’t matter. Something wasn’t right. Something wasn’t adding up. 

But before you could think of anything else, a loud, almost anger-filled knock comes from the front door. Your body was suddenly on high alert. Goosebumps erode all over your skin as a sickening feeling clouds your head. Grabbing your letter opener―just in case―you walk slowly towards the noise. Thoughts ran through your head in time with the beats of your racing heart. You knew walking towards the suspicious noise was a bad idea, but what else could you do? Whoever was there would know you were home by the lights being on or how your car is parked in the driveway. You couldn’t just pretend you weren’t home, no matter how hard you wanted to try. 

Your fingers graze the door handle, feeling your breath hitch. You twist it slowly until you hear the creek of the door hinges swing inwards. You brace yourself for whoever it was, but what you are met with confused you. The porch was empty?

No one in sight…

But you certainly heard a loud knock. You were going crazy… were you? You huff, straightening up, feeling relief wash over you. Maybe it was some kids pranking the neighbours again, and you were their target for the day. Who knows. You click the door closed, but you lock it this time because even though you see no threat, you wanted to be sure. Entering your office again you walk over to the letters in order to continue what you were doing but when your eyes gaze over the pieces of paper you notice the one you were going to open wasn’t on the table. Where did you go? You thought, placing the letter opener on the table so you could place your hand on the edge of the oak desk so you could look under it. You looked everywhere and couldn’t seem to find it. It was like it had vanished. But…was that a flash? Something caught your eye.

Looking at the teddy bears, you see the letter sitting in the lap of one of the plushies. Tilting your head you notice a little red flash like as if there was a recor―Your eyes snap open stumbling back slightly before turning to run but your body is met with a very broad object and then before you can get any baring on what or who was in behind of you, everything went black.

-

It was like the world was spinning, your head pinging with an aching pain from the left side of your skull. You tried to open your eyes and look around, but you quickly figured out you were blindfolded and bound to what seemed to be a chair. Typical. Why is it that whenever someone gets kidnapped, they get tied to an old wooden chair? Why couldn’t it be a couch or one of those soft deck chairs? You could hear some scampering around you, three, maybe four people had entered the room you were in. You can smell their shitty cheap cologne that they most likely think bend women at the knees. You knew what kind of people they were before even seeing them. 

“Well well. Looks like my men have caught a pretty mouse of us to play with.” The heavy voice echoed around the room, hinting to you that you were most likely in an open area. A warehouse, maybe? “You are gonna be my ticket to freedom songbird.” 

You had to cringe at the pet name that fell from his lips. The name you were known as in the mafia world. More specifically, Ateez’s Songbird. You tried to sit still, hoping to show a fraudulent sense of confidence, but in reality, you were petrified. You no longer had the eight men you loved dearly to save you. Then again, you had no one to save you. Most of your friends lived out of town and wouldn’t even come to the rescue if you begged. You were alone with these men. Blindfolded and at their will. The man you assume was talking before lifted your blindfold off, seeing your eyes suddenly gaze upon the piercing light from the headlamp above you. You can see your suspicions were correct, four men ranging from sizable jock build to more lean ones but in the end, they were all ghastly, staring you down as if you were nothing more than a piece of meat.

“I want to know where Ateez is….” The grunt that escaped from the immoral male smelled of booze and low-quality cigars. His eyes were painted his redness, as if he hadn't slept in days, weeks even. He was boarding insanity at this rate by his expression. “Well come on, I know you know where they are, and to be blunt, I need them dead. You know business and all.” He rambles, walking around your figure while you sit there listening to his utter bullshit. His words remind you of when a villain in the story starts blabbering to the captor about how they needed to defeat the hero in order to take over the world. But in this case, both sides are just as villainous as each other, and the “world” that’s referenced is stocks… weapons, contraband, drugs, money. The list goes on and on.

“Why are you so quiet, Songbird? Protecting your lovers?” 

Now that one made you laugh, shaking your head in annoyance. Argh, what you would give to be home with a strong whiskey in hand right now. Your reaction sent a shocked expression to the disgusting man's face. He expected you to plea, beg for him to not hurt Ateez, to not hurt the loves of your life and yet here you sit, laughing right in his face like he had just said the most entertaining thing to you.

“I don’t know where they are.” You finally spoke, a sadistic smile painted your face. To never backed down from his gaze, almost trying to intimidate him with your blazed stare. “Why would I know, or care where they are? They don’t care about me.”

His paced. Fuck. He thought. Did his men really just kidnap you for no reason? He was going to shoot someone for this. He began to sweat, you were his only hope of getting the men he hates, attention. And now you were useless. His hand raked through his hair, coming down to scratch the stubble on his chin. What is he going to do with you now? Looking back at you his eyes slid down your body from head to toe, as if he was a predator sizing up his prey. You felt a sudden uneasiness. Maybe telling the man that held your life in his hand you were useless, wasn’t your greatest idea.

He moved away, whispering to one of his men before he sent him off, turning back to you straight after. He stepped one foot in front of the other in a slow and formed way, as if he had come up with the best plan in history. His devious smile brought a lump in your throat and the way he leaned down in front of you, placing both hands on the chair arms so he was face to face with you. “Well, little dove. We can find other uses for you, hmm?”

An idea popped into your head, and maybe it was your hotheadedness or your sheer stubbornness to do things out of spite. Bringing your body back slacked against the chair frame, you watched as his smirk grew, thinking he had finally managed to scare you, but before he could react, you whipped your head forward. Your forehead smashes against his nose with a sickening crack, and a blood-curtailing scream follows. The man gripped his nose with a sharp hiss. You could see blood pouring down like a waterfall from his nose, spilling all over his clothes and floor. Your blurred vision and ache in your skull doesn’t last long as you shake your head. You can see his men crowding around him to see if he is okay.

“Bitch!” He swore, standing up straight from his crouched position to stomp over to you and slap you clean in your face, making you and the chair fall over, smacking your side against the concrete. You can feel your wrist twist before popping out of place from the impact. Your elbow scraped against the harsh floor along with your arm, making you feel the sensation of your blood escaping through the broken skin. A cut on the top of your head also spilled some blood onto the floor making a headache begin to form. Maybe this wasn’t your best idea.

“Get the kit. I wanna teach this whore a lesson.” He spat out some blood that spilled into his mouth from his nose.

“whore? I thought it was bitch? Or as it little dove?” you need to shut your mouth but you choose to keep pushing his buttons. Idiot. He kicked you square in the gut making you hitch your breath before almost coughing up a lung at the pain. Your watered eyes could now barely see as you tried to blink the tears away. You spot out the corner of your eye a bag of what you could only guess, torture tools. Great, now you really fucked up.

-

You had passed out at least two or three times, and every time, you were woken up by ice-cold water to the face. The temperature of the water stung your opened wounds and burned at your hot red flesh. Time was absent to you, not knowing how long you’d been sitting, tied to the comfortable chair. God, your limbs were gonna ache once you were able to get out. that’s if you get out. 

Maybe you will die here. The irony. Dying in a place of crime in a life of anguish when you so desperately tried to run from it. To try so hard to clean up and forget the darkness that lingered in your past. But in truth, you missed. As sicken as it sounded. You missed the violence, the thrill, the wealth and power. You missed being feared by your enemies and adored by your lovers. Call you sadistic for finding nostalgia in torture, but it was true. Even if you were the one who was currently being hurt, you couldn’t help but smile weakly.

“I found her!!” A muffled voice and sounds of gunshots echoed around you. But you were so dazed you couldn’t seem to pinpoint the noise. Your eyes were fuzzed, and blood tainted your view. Everything was happening so fast until you saw the stillness.

“Y-yuyu?” Your eyes glossed, seeing a blurred figure that resembled Yunho. But it couldn’t be him, could it? You must be dreaming, finally getting ready to leave this plane, but why would your guardian angel look like Yunho?

“I’ve got you, baby. Hold on.” You had already passed out for the final time before you would hear another word slip from your ex-lover's mouth. His rough hands gripped the rope that bounded your hands, cutting it away with his pocket knife. He snaked his arm under your legs and on your lower back, picking you up from the old wooden chair with ease. Your blood had pooled on the floor and now trailed behind Yunho as he jogged with you in his arms. His suit was now tainted red from you, but he couldn’t care less. The only thing on his mind was getting you to safety and maybe killing some assholes along the way. 

-

To say you couldn’t explain the pain surging through your body was correct. You had never experienced such torture before, and man, you were definitely regretting some of the stupid shit you had said to the low-life mob boss earlier. Your vision was still so blurred, and your head was ringing. You could faintly see a bedside with a clock on it. But the face was dark like it was unplugged. You know this place. You remembered the smell of vanilla and pine. You remembered the dark spruce bed frame and emerald forest green bed sheets. You weren’t thinking when you started to snuggle into the bedding, inhaling the comforting scent.

You missed his smell. You missed being in this bed. God, you didn’t realize how much you missed them. You wanted to be strong. You didn’t want them, didn’t want to forgive them. But the comfort…. tears were falling from your cheeks onto the silk pillow. You were sobbing, and your mind was beside itself. One part screaming at you, telling you to suck it up and leave. But on the other side, you were so tired. So, so…tired…. and all you wanted was your boys. 

“Sugar…” You froze, hearing the man that belonged to the bedroom. His deep voice, velvet and smooth. You could hear a crack in it like he had been in tears prior. You didn’t move, frozen with fear, because you knew if you looked at him in those beautiful brown eyes, you would be done for. “Baby, are you awake?”

He knew you were, but he didn’t want to approach you without knowing if it was okay. He knew by the way you looked at them last time you saw them that you had feared them. Something he never wanted to see in your beautiful innocent gaze. Torment that he and the others caused. He would never forgive himself, so he understood if you never did either. “I want to go home…”

You didn’t know what else to say. So god damned scared to stay cause if you did, you might not leave. And you couldn’t do that. What they put you through. You couldn’t possibly begin a relationship with them again… right? “Mingi, please take me home…” you felt so small calling for him, you didn’t want to be surrounded by his scent but at the same time, you didn’t so much as budge from the covers. You didn’t want him to be near you, but yet when he sat down on the edge of the bed, your body was screaming to be held by him. Everything was so messed up. Why did it have to end up like this? Why was this your ending with them?

Mingi couldn’t find his wording, his hand coming up to your covered shoulders, putting a firm but gentle touch on it. He wanted nothing more than to hold you, kiss you. Make love to you while repeating how sorry he was over and over while he caused you to come over and over. “I missed you…” His voice cracked. “We all have…” better now than never to explain himself, right? “After the first couple of weeks, we found out that those pictures were faked. A way to manipulate us into crumbling our empire. They thought if they could put us all at each other's throats. I guess they won…”

“How did you find they were fake?” You asked in a whisper, keeping your face covered with the bed sheet. 

“Another anonymous tip went off that San was ‘sneaking’ around with some guy. But Wooyoung was quick to debunk it cause San was with him that whole week. So we quickly found out that this was a ploy to rip us all apart… which worked.” Mingi regretted every word he spoke. They managed to find out San was innocent quicker than you. San was lucky he had an alibi, though unlike you, that was away without their knowledge, just trying to buy a gift for your anniversary... god, they were so stupid...

“It...Worked?” You were confused about that since it only caused you to leave. From your knowledge, the boys were all still together? Mingi sighed, standing up, which caused you to peek out from your hiding spot to see him pouring a whiskey from the small bar in the corner of the room. Before downing the amber-coloured liquor.

“Seonghwa and Hongjoong became obsessed with work. They’ve become biter…” He took another shot of the harsh liquor. “Cruel… The number of people they’ve put in the dungeons just from looking in their direction wrong.”

You felt sick, flashes of them yelling at you, cursing you. The image of them with that anger plus a gun. You felt sorry for any of the suckers that were unlucky enough to gaze at them wrong. You tangled your fingers into the soft sheets, playing with the velvet fabric. You note how the hand that had popped out earlier was still slightly swollen and numb, making you barely able to feel the fabric on your right fingertips. “W-What about the others…”

“Jongho spent most of his time looking for you. Spying on you. Seeing all the achievements you have made.” He sounded proud of you for a moment like he sought knowledge of your life from the youngest. “Yeosang drove himself into his computer work, taking on small tasks in the outer parts of the city. If we hadn’t said we brought you home, he would have still been hiding somewhere.” He flicked his hand in the air, scoffing slightly.

“San and Wooyoung changed the most when you left. They became lost without you, distant… different. Like the sunshine was ripped from their life, and darkness consumed them.”

He took a seat at the end of the bed again. You had sat up, crossing your legs, eyeing his figure. He has gotten bigger than the last time you’ve seen him. He’s bulked up, and from what your memory could recall, Yunho was bigger as well. The way his arms felt being around you as he carried you to safety were definitely bulkier. “And what about you? Yunho?”

He huffed, glancing up at you. His hand was so close to your covered legs. So close yet so far. “Yunho and I are…fine. We missed you.”

You knew fine meant they were both struggling just as much as the others. You shifted, moving a little closer to him. Your heart was still aching, but your body was craving to feel some warmth. and at this point, you were so tired. Tired of fighting, tired of running. Tired of anyone telling you who or how to live your life? who cares if you run back to your exes? Who cared if you decided you move back with them? It’s not like you have friends or family that would tell you otherwise. All you had was them. Eight cruel mob bosses who would do anything for you and who were scared when they thought you had betrayed them. “I missed you too.”

His wide, glossy eyes snapped to yours. Like he had just heard someone spill the secret to life itself. His mouth went dry, a lump forming in his throat. He didn’t know what to say. He wanted to spill his guts about how much he missed your smile and missed your laugh. Missed the way you would tease him for being too clingy, but yet you were just as clingy in the next breath. He missed the way your body would melt against his on cold nights, searching for warmth. Or how you would fit so perfectly around his….

“Min…You mind is wondering…” You knew his tells, and you knew he was sinking into his mind. 

“I uh…I’m just trying to find the words to say I’m sorry without it sounding like it was an excuse.”

“I believe you’re sorry, mingi. I believe you are all sorry. It doesn’t change or fix what happened. And it’s going to take time for me to trust you all again. But…” You leaned over, placing your hand on his shaking thigh. “I do forgive you.”

He broke.

“We don’t deserve your forgiveness. We don’t deserve you…” Tears were falling down his red cheeks, making you jump to wipe each one away without a second thought. You hadn’t realized how close you were until you noted the smell of the whiskey on his breath and the warmth of his body radiating to yours.

“You might not deserve me. But who is here to tell me to stay away…” he gave you a smile. You didn’t want to forgive him or the others fully per se, but you did want this push-and-pull game. This cruel twisted game of forbidden love. 

“The others are going to want to see you…” He spoke cautiously, afraid you might recoil away from him if he spoke too loudly. You just sighed, lowering your hands into your lap once again, sitting back. You could feel your wounds with every movement, but it wasn’t as painful as before. They must have given you some painkillers prior to when you were passed out. You were about to speak when a sudden thud was heard, quickly followed by a bunch of hushed whispers. You couldn’t help but smirk at the childishness, for angry mafia kings they sure know how to act like goofballs.

“They’re outside aren’t they?” You cocked your brow, giving Mingi a simple straight expression. He just rubbed the back of his neck with a small whisper of, ‘Sorry.’

You rolled your eyes, telling him to let them in. Your heart might have been racing faster than a race car, but you tried to hide the growing anxiousness with a plain expression. You were going to hear them all out. You were going to hug San and Wooyoung as they sobbed on the end of your bed with mumblers of ‘I’m sorry.’ over and over again. You were going to give Yeosang a knowing look, so he knew that his silence was accepted and that you weren’t mad. You were going to thank Yunho for saving you, and he was going to kiss your palm as you held his cheek briefly.

And you were going to cry.

Sob at how Hongjoong sat on his knees, grovelling for your forgiveness and pleading how he was so messed up for not believing you. You’d all cry seeing the leader so vulnerable. And Seonghwa. Your darling, hwa… you would see such sorrow in his eyes. But you would let him kiss your cheek, hold you for a moment. Let him have you for a moment while you get your mind into check.

This was not a redemption. This was not forgetting. But a new chance.

Not a new chapter but a new book entirely.

You were going to grow, do your own thing. Be with them while you find yourself. And maybe, just maybe. You’d take Jongho’s offer all those years ago…and finally say yes…

— ♡

[bookyeom]

pairing: vernon x reader word count: 3.7k warnings: angst (she did it y’all!!!!), swearing, kissing, wet!vernon

Author’s Note: this fic is part of the Thirteen Valentines event, but can be read as a standalone! also, i would suggest listening to the song listed below to get a feel for the vibe of the fic, but it’s not necessary. Happy Birthday, Bononie!

kissing in swimming pools by holly humberstone

do you think we were made to last in the coldest of weather? maybe i don’t have to leave so soon you look heavenly in this shade of blue

Vernonie [8:48pm]: finally back from dinner

Vernonie [8:49pm]: everyone’s gone btw, so i’ll come get u now?

Y/N [8:51pm]: yeye! Just text when ur outside 

You hear his car before you see it. 

His parents must have kept his old, beat-up car from high school for when he came back for the summer, you muse, and it makes you smile. You’d spent a lot of time in that car, listening to whatever new indie band Vernon had “discovered” that week, or eating take-out in the department store parking lot after hours, or your personal favourite: with the engine shut off at the lookout Vernon had discovered on his way home from work one day, tucked away from most of the world as the two of you reclined in his car seats and looked at the night sky. 

You used to wonder if it was there that you fell in love with him, but the truth is that you loved him long before he showed up at your door at 1am, eyes wide with excitement over his new discovery, and brought you there in your pajamas. 

You still have the hoodie he’d leant you that night in the closet of your childhood bedroom.

Tonight, you shut the door quietly behind you out of habit, twisting the knob so it doesn’t make a sound. You’re long past the days of sneaking out, but your muscle memory won’t quit. 

It’s been eight months since you last saw Vernon. You only came home for two days at Christmas, claiming you couldn’t take that much time off from your part time job, and had managed to avoid him. You had still needed the space from him, then. December had only marked four months since he’d broken your heart, and you weren’t sure at the time if you’d ever be able to look him in the eye again. 

The months after Christmas break had finally begun to heal you. Your new semester had started, and you had decided to dive headfirst into both academic and social endeavors instead of wallowing away in your dorm room. You’d finally made new friends, your grades had improved, and while it still hurt to see his name when it popped up across your social media platforms, it wasn’t all you thought about anymore.

Right now, you kind of can’t wait to see him.

“Hi,” you say, breathless, and when Vernon meets your eyes, you know you’re not breathless because of the jog from your front door to his car. 

He looks good. His hair is a bit longer, curling at the ends and falling softly across his forehead, and you think his shoulders have filled out. His jaw is just as sharp, eyelashes just as long, and you immediately wonder how you’d gone so long without him. 

“Hi, stranger,” he says, and you’re terrified that the sound of his voice might tear you apart — but it doesn’t. You hold firm, despite the sound of your heartbeat roaring loud in your ears. It hurts, but it’s a dull ache instead of the sharp pain you’re used to. Seeing him sends a wave of relief through you instead of the dread you’d been half expecting, and you can feel the tension in your chest ease just the slightest bit. You can do this. Because it’s Vernon, and because life sucks without him. 

You stare at each other for a few moments, and then he raises an eyebrow as if in a challenge, and you can’t help it. You break into a smile, and then you’re surging across the middle console and pulling him in for a hug. He laughs against your neck, and you know he’s just as happy to see you as you are him. The hand that was on the steering wheel finds your back, and your eyes fall shut. 

“I missed you,” you say honestly, and you swear you can feel him exhale.

“Yeah,” he says before squeezing you tight, once. Brief, but enough for you to feel it, to understand, as he adds, “Me too.”

You pull back. Vernon puts the car into drive as you click on your seatbelt, and you fall into an easy, comfortable silence as he begins to make the familiar way back to his place. 

When you texted him a few weeks ago, your hands trembling but determined, you hadn’t been sure what he would say. You hadn’t spoken in months.

For a while, you didn’t think you’d ever get over the rejection of last August, but a year away at university had done you good. It was full of distractions; you’d even had a couple of flings here and there. Vernon had texted you a bit at first, because you’d insisted that you were fine, but it had hurt to see his name show up on your phone. You had responded slowly, using any and all excuses to explain away the days that passed without you answering. You’d texted sparingly throughout the year on birthdays and holidays, and you knew he watched your stories the same as you watched his. You knew he knew the real reason why you were distant, but he never pushed. After all, he’d broken your heart, not the other way around. 

Eventually, you had recognized that the distance was helping, and conversations between the two of you had become even more sparse after that. It had been hard — one of the hardest things you’d ever had to do — but you’d needed the space. So when his response to your text a few weeks ago had come quickly and enthusiastically, a Vernon-esque “bet :)” in response to your ask to hang out when you got home for the summer, you had been so relieved that you’d cried. Though you’d known he would never hate you, deep down a small part of you had still been afraid that you’d pushed him away for good.  

The silence in the car tonight is comfortable, and you’re grateful. Vernon is tapping in tune to the beat on his steering wheel while you hum along in quiet contentment. After a couple of songs that you recognize play in a row, you turn to him in surprise. 

“Is this the playlist I made you for your birthday two years ago?” 

Vernon simply nods, eyes on the road as he makes a turn. “Yeah.” 

“Oh.”

Vernon laughs. “Am I not supposed to listen to it?”

“Just surprised me, that’s all.”

”Okay, weirdo.” 

The conversation moves on, but you don’t forget about it, even as you pull up to Vernon’s childhood home. 

It looks almost exactly the same. You follow Vernon up the steps and to the front door, through the foyer and to the kitchen where you used to help his mom prep for their summer barbecues. He tosses you a bottle of water wordlessly before he’s slipping out the back door without warning, and you trail behind without question. His peculiar mannerisms don’t faze you, even after all this time apart, and that realization brings you a warm sort of comfort.

As soon as you step through the back door and into the warmth of the summer evening air again, you can’t help but smile. This, too, remains unchanged. The heated pool with its blue and white tiled sides; the metal table with its umbrella, a single tip bent out of shape so that it sags just in one small part; the overgrown trees whose leaves spill over the sides of the wooden fence. You’d spent many days and nights here, too. 

You join Vernon, who’s already sitting on the edge of the pool with his legs hung over the sides. 

“Damn, you didn’t waste any time, Sol.” The nickname falls out before you can stop it. It’s been so long since you’ve been around him, since you’ve even let yourself think of him as anything other than Vernon. If he notices your slip up, he doesn’t say.

”It’s hot out,” he points out, simple. “Why wait?” He takes a swig of his own water bottle, and you’re smiling again.

You join him without further comment. 

Quiet settles between the two of you again, which would be fine if you weren't suddenly itching to ask him a million questions. How was his first year of university? How are his parents, his sister? Is his favourite food still carne asada tacos? Does he still only own t-shirts and jeans? Is he… seeing anyone?

Is he happy?

Had he really missed you?

“I’ll be right back.”

You’re surprised when Vernon gets up, barely missing you with the water he sends splashing as he does. But you don’t question him, your legs swinging back and forth in the water. You watch the underwater lights distort in the ripples you make, distracted by the simple movements and your racing thoughts. When you hear him re-emerge, you turn to find him with two towels in hand. Your eyes widen and you frantically shake your head.

“I didn’t bring a bathing suit, Vernon.” And I am not getting into that pool with you in just my underwear.

He pulls something out from under one of the towels, and you recognize it as one of his favourite band tees that he’s had for years. He raises his eyebrows at you, eyes twinkling in a teasing challenge, and you narrow your eyes at him. The smile on his face briefly sends you reeling back — back to before that night last summer when everything changed. Back to when he was just your best friend who liked to tease you for fun, who brought you your favourite ice cream every movie night, who took you to your high school graduation dance even though you knew he would have rathered gouge his eyes out with a spoon. 

Back to when you were in love with him, but he didn’t know yet. 

“Fine,” you say. “I’ll get in.”

He grins, and your chest does a little flip-flop. You forcefully ignore it as you take the shirt from his outstretched hand. He turns around to give you privacy, and you keep your eyes on his turned back as you remove everything except your underwear and his shirt. Though he’s grown up now and wears things that fit him better — you had noticed the bomber jacket in his backseat, and the t-shirt he’s wearing that fits him just right — he used to love things that were three sizes too big. The old, worn shirt just brushes your thighs, but you don’t have time to think anymore about it when he moves to pull his own shirt up and over his head. 

You watch the muscles in his back contract, and you swallow. Don’t go down this road again, you tell yourself. It’s just going to hurt like hell.

If you’re honest with yourself, you’re starting to wonder if you’d ever really strayed from that path in the first place.

Because when he turns back to you with raised eyebrows and a smile, when he pulls you with him by the hand, it hits you with as much force as the cool water you jump into. And when you resurface and your eyes find him already looking back at you, his hair sticking up every which way and water dripping from his lashes down onto his cheeks, it hits you again.

That you don’t know if there will ever be anyone else for you but him.

You turn away from him, running your hands through your hair, trying desperately to keep your cool. You feel like you’re being punched in the stomach, like that sharp pain you’d felt since last August had never left. You thought you were ready to see him again, and you had been so, so wrong. 

You can feel all those months of mending, of trying desperately to get over your feelings for him so you could have him back in your life — you can feel them as they slip away. 

“I’m sorry,” was all he’d said that night, and your heart had shattered into a thousand pieces. You could tell through blurry eyes that he was hurting, too, because he loved you, you knew he did. Just not like that. He hadn’t said anything else, even though it looked like he wanted to, and you just didn’t understand. You thought for sure that he felt the same, because he’d kissed you back, because you knew him just as well as he knew you. 

And it really felt like you’d healed. Just an hour ago, you’d even been excited to see him again.

You will yourself to breathe.

“Hey. I’m sorry I pulled you in with me.”

You don’t respond.

“Are you okay?”

You don’t answer as his voice breaks through your racing thoughts, your back still turned to him. 

“…Y/N?”

He sounds concerned, like he cares. You know he does — know that he always has. And it hurts.

You can feel the water moving behind you when you still don’t respond. You can feel it as he takes a step or two closer, and you can almost imagine the look on his face as he tries to figure out what he did wrong. You feel like you’ve been burned when he reaches for you, when his hand tries to find your arm to turn you back to him. You can hear his inhale when you flinch away, your skin on fire where his fingertips just barely brushed your shoulder.

He tries again, because he loves you. Because he loves you — but not like that. “Talk to me?”

Your eyes squeeze shut, and you take a deep breath. You know you have to face him in order to get through this, to leave here in one piece even if it’s by pretending. You have to. You don’t want him to know, don’t want him to know that you’re still the reason you can’t be close to him, that you still love him, that you probably never stopped. 

But when you turn to find him right there, find him so close, when you see that his eyes are full of worry, you can’t find a single word. He looks beautiful in the dim blue light of the pool, and it makes your heart ache.

“Y/N.” Your name is nothing but a whispered breath as he says it, his eyes locked so intently on your face that you suddenly feel warm all over despite the slight chill of the water. His gaze pierces through you, and you watch as it travels across your face, down to your lips, where it lingers. 

You’re not sure you’re breathing, not sure what to do, not sure how to possibly move on from what feels impossible. Why isn’t he moving away? Why is he so close? 

“I…” He tries again, eyes still on your mouth. Then he snaps his gaze up again. “I’m… I’m really happy that you’re here.”

Your eyebrows furrow. “You…”

“I missed you.” He looks hesitant before he says it, but he says it anyway, and your breath catches when you hear the tender, soft tone of his voice. It makes your head spin. “I really missed you. So much.” 

You take a steadying breath at the same time as he does. The air between you feels charged — charged with something you won’t let yourself name.

Then he’s stepping even closer, a hand lifting to your face, and you freeze. You can’t move — you don’t even know if you want to. You’re confused, but you don’t move, and all you can manage to say is a single word.

“Sol,” you caution.

He takes a deep breath in, and then he says, “You haven’t thought about it?” 

His hand is gentle on your jaw, thumb tracing lines back and forth across your skin. You feel goosebumps everywhere he touches. Your eyes search his, trying desperately to understand. You hate that you’re finding him extra hard to read right now — now, when you need to know what he’s thinking more than ever. 

“Thought about what?” Your voice is small, and you hate it.

Vernon’s other hand lifts to your face, tilting your chin up towards him. His eyes search yours as he speaks, his voice low. “Last summer.” He pauses. “Us.”

The words hit you like a truck. 

“What the fuck, Vernon?” You finally manage. You can feel the tears begin to well up, and you pull his hands away from your face. “Don’t you dare.”

He takes a step back, eyebrows knit together. “I’m sorry.”

You stare at him incredulously, frustration bubbling to the surface the longer you look at him. “Don’t be an asshole.”

He doesn’t say anything else, and all you can hear is the water gently hitting against the side of the pool. You frustratedly tuck a lock of wet hair behind your ear before crossing your arms.

“Why would you say that to me?” You’re hurt, and he knows it.

“I just…” He searches your face for a moment before he breathes out, “I think about you all the time. I miss you all the time.”

You can feel angry tears pricking at the back of your eyelids. You blink them away rapidly as you spit out, “You were the one who kissed me back and then pretended like nothing happened. You—“

“Would you have gone?”

You blink when he interrupts you, and it takes you a second to try and understand what he means. You wrack your brain, trying to figure out what the fuck he’s talking about. “What?”

“Would you have gone to school there if I had told you I loved you last summer? Or would you have chosen somewhere closer?”

You’re absolutely dumbfounded as you process what he’s saying. You’re blinking away furious tears, mouth agape as you try and settle on something to say. “Was that your fucking choice to make?”

“I was trying to make it easier for you. It’s your dream school.”

You can’t believe what you’re hearing. “What the fuck? I was in love with you, Vernon!”

“I was in love with you, too!”

The silence is deafening. You stare at him with wide eyes, your heart threatening to beat out of your chest. You wonder if he can hear it. Then you squeeze your eyes shut, your hands lifting to cover your face as you try and regain your composure. 

“I thought I was doing what was best for the both of us.”

His voice is quiet. You know he’s telling the truth. It hurts, but you know he’s being honest. That he thought he was doing the right thing. 

“I thought that maybe the distance would make it a little easier,” he continues, voice carrying softly across the water in the space between you. “But it didn’t. Not for me.”

Moments pass, and you realize you’re shaking. Your hands stay covering your face as you take deep breaths, waiting until you’ve recovered enough to say, voice low, “I have never been more upset with you than I am right now.”

He’s quiet for a moment before he responds. “I know, and I deserve it. I’m sorry that I made that decision for you. I really am. I shouldn’t have done it.”

You nod after a minute, after you force yourself to breathe, letting your hands fall from your face. You can’t look at him, though, eyes instead focusing on your fingers that begin tracing patterns in the water at your sides. “Okay.”

“And I'm…” He trails off, and you wait. He takes so long that you look up to find him looking at you, waiting, and something in his eyes has you stuck there. He searches your face, and then he says, “I’m sorry that I made you think that I don’t love you back. Because of course I do.” 

Your heartbeat has begun to roar in your ears again. “You do, present tense?”

Vernon freezes, eyes wide. He opens and closes his mouth a few times before he finally settles on something. “Shit. Sorry, fuck, I—”

“Is that a yes?”

He inhales sharply. “Yeah — yes. I don’t expect anything from you, though. I promise I’m not —“

“You are such a fucking idiot.” 

He doesn’t hesitate. “I know. I know. I’m—”

“I spent so long figuring out how to put myself back together,” you say softly, and he cuts himself off. You can feel tears pricking at the back of your eyelids again. “Without you.” 

Vernon’s shoulders sag, and he nods, looking down at the water. “Yeah.” 

Your breath catches before you steady yourself and you say, “It’s literally always been you, Sol. Even though you’re a fucking idiot.”

His eyes are wide when they shoot back up to meet yours. You inhale a shaky breath, watching as he waits, unsure. 

“It’s still you,” you add quietly, and you’re certain that you hear his breath catch.

“I’m in love with you,” he breathes out before you can say anything else. “I love you back. I did then, and I do now, and I’m sorry I didn’t say it before. I wanted to, I swear. I’m sorry that I hurt you. I’m…” He trails off, a hand running through his hair as he finishes, “I’m just really fucking sorry.”

“I believe you,” you say softly, because you do. You believe him, and you’re not sure your heart has ever beat this fast. Because he loves you — the same way that you love him. Vernon looks down at the water again, and you think you can see the faintest hint of a blush on his cheeks as he thinks. “Sol?”

Your soft voice makes him look up. He still looks uncertain, like he doesn’t know what he’s allowed to do. 

“Come here?”

You’re in his arms so fast you can barely process. He’s hugging you so tight against his chest that you can feel the warmth of him through your wet t-shirt, and it sends shivers down your spine. He doesn’t say anything else as he holds you, and neither do you. Your arms are wound around his neck, and you can feel the way his nose nuzzles into the crook of your shoulder. 

You pull back, your hands finding either side of his face. He blinks, slowly, taking in every part of you in the same way that you’re taking in every part of him. You brush away a stray drop of water that falls from his hair down onto his forehead, and you’re certain you’re dreaming. He’s so beautiful, a perfect juxtaposition of sharp edges and soft lines, so… Vernon. 

And he’s gazing at you like you hung all the stars in the sky — because he loves you, in the same way that you love him. 

For the second time in a year, you kiss him first.

A/N: thank you so much to everyone for all the love on the other fics so far :) Here’s the sixth of our Thirteen Valentines in honour of Bononie’s birthday. Please please please reblog if you can to spread the word, and check out the Thirteen Valentines masterlist! If you want to be added to the taglist, send me a message :) Your kind comments and reblogs don’t go unnoticed, I promise.

Taglist: @waldau @wqnwoos @tae-bebe @gyuminusone@savventeen @eoieopda @minisugakoobies @wheeboo @lvlystars@darkypooo @christinewithluv @variety-is-the-joy-of-life @bella-l (Strikethrough means it wouldn’t let me tag you, sorry!)

[jeannineee]

Could you do little headcanons on the bat boys being fathers?

I’m just a little feral at the moment and need to see them being the biggest dilfs I see them being 😅😅

The Batboys as Fathers

a/n: I looove this idea. I kept the kids gender neutral, except w Cas because he IS a girl dad. No other way to go about it. Y’all can send in more requests, btw!!

warnings: none

Rhysand

Suuuuper overprotective. Even when you were pregnant, he’d send a death glare to anyone who breathed wrong at you

Some people might think Cassian is the one who lets his kids do crazy shit? No. It’s Rhys.

He regularly gives you mini-heart attacks when it comes to teaching your child to fly.

He, of course, prioritizes your child’s safety, but you once caught him tossing your baby in the air, encouraging them to “go, go, go!”

While the sight was endearing to an extent, you definitely verbally kicked his ass after he put the baby to sleep.

His apology was quite strenuous

You’ve definitely caught Rhys passed out in your child’s bed, wearing some costume they’d forced him into, a book on his chest, drool running down his face.

Cassian

GIRL DAD GIRL DAD GIRL DAD

Helicopter parent vibes

Cassian worries about your girls so much

He absolutely DOTES over your daughters. They are his pride and joy. He often finds himself wondering how he could make something so perfect, but then he looks at you and it all clicks.

Will ABSOLUTELY play dress up with them, have tea parties, play with dolls, etc.

Rhys and Az caught him once, in full “princess” attire, sipping imaginary tea with your youngest daughter. Cassian did not give a fuck, even when they snickered.

Would literally wait on them hand and foot, if that would make them happy.

Cassian saw his life flash before his eyes when your middle daughter casually jumped off the kitchen counter, flapping her wings to soften the impact.

“Did you SEE that?” he asked worriedly. “She could’ve—“

You shushed him with a kiss, as you often did when he worried for your girls.

Azriel

Az was veryyyy nervous with your first child.

He definitely worries about his ability as a parent, even though he is literally the most amazing father ever.

Loves showing off your kids, with each milestone they hit. Crawling, talking, walking. You’re surprised he doesn’t throw parties for it.

He would if he could.

Tries to include them in everything. When he plays the piano, when he’s making you breakfast in bed.

“Alright, go wake up mommy. She gets cranky when I do it.”

I’m SCREAMING

Panics when your kids get colds/flu. He worried that he did something wrong the first couple of times it happened. Despite your reassurance, he does NOT leave their side until they’re better.

Your children love his shadows, and watching them play with the shadows healed a lot of his insecurities with them.

Overall, our batboys would be AMAZING fathers. Not up for debate.

[kingofbodyrolls]

Learn to Love Again (m) | myg

Summary: People always leave. They become beautiful stars shining bright in the night sky. When life hands you lemons, you’ve been told to make lemonade, but that is hard when your soul and heart is breaking apart. When you rescue a tiny cat and meet a handsome stranger in the cafe, you finally feel yourself healing – but when they too leave, how are you going to learn to love again?

Pairing: Yoongi x reader (female, mainly called pet names so no ‘Y/N’).

AU + genres: Hybrid!au (shapeshifter!yoongi), strangers to lovers, slice of life, heavy angst, a lot of sadness and grief (I’m sorry!), dark vibes, smut and fluff and some humor sprinkled in there too. 

Rating: Mature/explicit/R18 – this is mature/explicit content, so minors, please do not interact.

Word count: 19,4K

Disclaimer: I do not own BTS or know them personally and this work of fiction is purely fictional and for entertainment purposes only. The actions and personalities described in the story do not reflect those of BTS— it’s just fiction. Also, if you would kindly read the tags/warnings before reading, that would be lovely: and if you don’t like whatever is described in the tags, just hit return and find something else to read. Thank you 🌸

Warnings (general) + triggers: Heavy angst, extreme heavy sadness and grief, death of minor characters, mention of previous character death (parents and siblings), mentions of su*cide, mention of m*rder, su*cidal thoughts. Mention of past car accident. Mention of past domestic abuse. Mirrors 👀👀

Warnings (explicit): unprotected sex (please stay safe!), choking, oral (female receiving), nipple and breasts play, one-time use of a degrading word (otherwise petname), hair pulling – I guess it’s pretty vanilla with a slight sprinkle of spice 🤭

Author’s note  (1): I know it sounds hella sad (and it is), but it is also very sweet and heartwarming too 💜 I wanted to venture into the darker stuff again, and embrace all the feelings and sadness that I felt a few weeks ago (I’m fine, well I’m getting through it at least). 

If you are triggered by any of the warnings, I suggest that you skip this. It’s not that explicit though, but the heavy subjects are still there and they feature in it a lot.

Also, the quote “people always leave” features a lot in this and I only now realize why I find it so familiar – it’s a famous quote from Peyton Sawyer from One Tree Hill.

Author's note  (2): It’s only partly edited, so I’m so sorry about any mistakes or weird wordings (English is also not my mother language). When I read it again, I felt sad and like the whole thing is crap (why do I also feel like this adgadfjkhs), BUT, I still like it, it’s a piece of my heart in there… I can’t just let it sit in my docs to collect dust. So – I’ll just post it early and never look at the thing again (expect for the cover, because damn I’m so happy with how that turned out 🥹).

Taglist: @keshiadeija @viankiss @hopefulrascalstatesmantoad If you prefer to read on AO3 you can also find it there 🙂

The heavens are weeping again, unleashing a torrential downpour that drums heavy on the windows. Just like the heavy beating of your heart and the tears that just won’t stop falling down your cheeks.

For days now, the world has languished in this disquiet, a foreboding atmosphere that has draped itself over every moment, casting a shadow even before the haunting ring of the call that echoed through the silence.

A searing, heart-wrenching call that etched itself into the fabric of your existence, standing out as one of the most agonizing moments life has ever dared to deliver.

Caught off guard by the unexpected twist of fate, it blindsided you, sending shockwaves through your core and leaving you utterly rattled, as if the very ground beneath your feet had shifted without warning.

Your conviction in her well-being crumbled as swiftly as a sandcastle against the tide.

In your last encounter, she radiated joy—her infectious happiness casting a brilliant glow over her words as she spoke about her new job, her blossoming romance, and her boundless love for life.

A tear, heavy with the weight of the contrast between then and now, traces a lonely path down your cheek.

The echo of her laughter, the sparkle in her eyes, and the unbridled excitement that made her hands tremble with anticipation haunted your memories. 

It's a heart-wrenching juxtaposition between the happiness she projected and the sorrow now etched into the fabric of your own emotions.

She wasn't just a friend; she was your confidante, a steadfast companion through the labyrinth of years and experiences. Your best friend.

In the tapestry of your friendship, she emerged as the resplendent thread, the one who consistently outshone the rest. 

Even on her darkest days, she radiated a brilliance that surpassed the ordinary, a celestial glow that left an indelible mark on your heart. To you, she wasn't just a friend; she was a luminous star, a breathtaking celestial entity whose untimely descent felt like a cosmic supernova, casting a blinding light that left everyone in its wake awestruck and forever changed.

Like a thunderbolt from a clear sky, the day she chose to end her own life blindsided everyone. 

The abruptness of her decision, the finality of calling it quits, left a haunting question echoing in the hollow chambers of your soul—why? 

The puzzle remains unsolved, the enigma of her despair a perplexing maze you can't navigate. Outwardly, her life seemed like a canvas painted in hues of contentment, yet the invisible struggles eluded comprehension. 

Despite the deep conversations that usually wove through the tapestry of your friendship, the darkness she harbored never surfaced in her words. Her choice to shroud her pain in silence remains an unfathomable mystery, a tragic paradox that still elicits a profound sense of bewilderment.

The haunting ‘what if’ lingers, an elusive specter of regret—what if she had shared her struggles with you? 

The possibility that your words could have been a lifeline is an uncharted sea of sorrow. The uncertainty, the unfulfilled potential for intervention, claws at your conscience like a relentless tempest.

In the wake of this unanswered plea for connection, tears cascade down your cheeks, each drop bearing the weight of unspoken conversations. The dampness on your collarbone, where your shirt clings uncomfortably, is a tangible reminder of the storm within. 

A mere few days have crawled by since that fateful call, the kind that alters the very fabric of reality. 

The echo of your friend's voice reverberates through your memory—a seismic revelation that shattered your world. As the words unfolded, you crumpled to the floor, the phone nearly slipping from your trembling grasp.

A gasp caught in your throat, a palpable surge of emotion crashing over you like a tidal wave.

In that harrowing moment, your heartbeat quickened, each thud resonating with the weight of sorrow and anger. The air itself seemed to constrict, tainted with the bitter aftertaste of an impending storm. The onslaught of emotions clawed at your chest, a tumultuous dance between sadness and anger, each one vying for dominance in the chaotic symphony of your soul.

Powerlessness wraps around you like a suffocating shroud, the absence of your brightest star leaving a void that seems insurmountable. 

In this moment of staggering loss, the future unfolds as a vast expanse of uncertainty. How do you navigate a world without the radiant glow she once brought to your existence?

Yet, as the weight of grief presses down, a resilient ember flickers within. Acknowledging the inexorable march of time, you realize that her memory, like a cherished constellation, will be a guiding light in the night sky of your life. 

In the tapestry of your emotions, she, alongside your parents, becomes one of the celestial beacons you look up to during moments of sorrow or when life's burdens become too overwhelming.

You step out onto the balcony, enveloped by the velvety embrace of the dark blue sky. 

The resplendent moon takes center stage, surrounded by a constellation of bright companions that twinkle in the vast expanse of the night. The beauty of the cosmos is a bittersweet solace, a celestial dance that captivates your gaze.

The night sky has always held a captivating allure for you, but in the wake of the profound loss of your parents, it transcends mere beauty. 

It becomes a sanctuary, a cosmic tapestry where memories linger among the stars. Each celestial beacon now carries the weight of cherished moments, transforming the night into a sacred canvas where the brilliance of your loved ones continues to shine, casting a radiant glow that lingers in the quiet moments of contemplation.

The subtle hum of your phone reverberates in your hand, a clandestine messenger that disrupts the tranquility of your thoughts, setting loose a cascade of emotions. 

The screen lights up with a message from a friend, its arrival like a seismic tremor in the landscape of your contemplations, shaking loose the delicate balance you've tried so desperately to maintain.

Yuna [20.31]: Iseul’s funeral is on Saturday. We’re all going. U coming?🌹

Dread settles in the pit of your stomach like a heavy anchor – the thought of attending the funeral feels like navigating a tempest of emotions you're not sure you're prepared to weather. 

The prospect of confronting tears, raw emotion, and the grieving presence of her family looms before you, casting a shadow over the already somber occasion. 

Yet, duty intertwines with reluctance; you were her best friend, after all. 

The expectation to pay your respects becomes an unspoken mandate, tugging at the seams of your resolve despite the storm of discomfort that brews within.

Tears have become an unwelcome torrent on your phone, transforming the smooth surface into a slippery terrain that complicates every attempt to type. 

The screen blurs beneath a watery veil, mirroring the tumultuous cascade in your own eyes. Distraction clings to each droplet, making it not only challenging to navigate the phone but also to see through the emotional downpour that clouds your vision.

But against the deluge of sorrow and the weight of grief, you summon the strength for a brief reply, a fragile lifeline tossed into the turbulent sea of emotions.

You [20.46]: Yes🌹

With a heavy sigh, you gently lay your phone face-down on the nightstand, as if shielding the illuminated screen from the weight of the world you've just momentarily set aside.

How do you navigate this desolate landscape that life has become? 

The void feels more palpable now, a haunting echo of emptiness that had lingered even before.

It's as if the very essence of existence has been drained away, leaving you grappling with the profound question: What is the point when the world around you continues to crumble, and people around you just keep dying?

At Iseul's funeral, you navigated the somber scene alongside your friend group, bracing for the emotional maelstrom that awaited. 

The atmosphere unfolded exactly as you had anticipated — a tableau of tears, grief-stricken family members, and the embrace of mournful hugs. Conversations echoed with memories of Iseul's radiant spirit, each word a bittersweet tribute to the bright and bubbly soul that once graced your lives. 

Amidst the collective sorrow, the air hung heavy with the weight of loss, weaving a tapestry of emotions that spoke to the indelible impact Iseul had left behind.

It was agonizing, bidding farewell in the harsh reality of acceptance. The harsh truth of life unveiled itself – an unrelenting cycle of departures. 

Yet, amidst the crushing finality, you find solace in the enduring promise that even though everyone leaves, the stars above will forever bear witness to her presence, a cosmic constellation of memories that will continue to illuminate the canvas of your nights.

Work persists in its mundane rhythm, the monotony punctuated only by the forced smiles you offer customers as you brew their coffee or recommend delectable treats in the cafe. 

For you, work has forever remained a sterile landscape, devoid of passion or purpose. The unfulfilled yearning for a meaningful career tugs at the edges of your consciousness, a persistent ache exacerbated by life's unrelenting cruelty—your unfinished degree in astrophysics stands as a testament to dreams deferred. Maybe you’ll go back to school – you don’t know.

Your thoughts are abruptly shattered by a brash intrusion, a man’s voice slicing through the ambient noise with an unwarranted familiarity. “Hi, pretty,” he drawls, snapping your attention to the present, “can I get a black coffee, a muffin, and your number, please?” 

The audacious request hangs in the air, leaving a charged pause that crackles with a blend of amusement and annoyance.

You stifle a silent scoff, a careful veil to conceal the simmering irritation within, though the indignation is palpable. 

This flirtatious interlude is far from novel—far from the first time someone has attempted to weave charm into the fabric of your workday. Yet, a discomforting truth lingers beneath your composed exterior: you disdain these unwarranted advances, a sentiment you've carried with you each time such encounters stain the ordinary canvas of your work.

Forcing a smile that feels more like a fragile mask, you locate a muffin, navigating the familiar routine with practiced efficiency. 

As you approach the coffee machine to craft the requested brew, you gather both items and, with a subtle sigh, slide them across the counter. 

Your words, delivered with a polite cadence, carry a hint of firmness as you say, “Here you go. Apologies, but my number isn't on the menu.”

Turning men down has become a skill honed through the crucible of experience, a necessity etched into the fabric of your being, especially after the wreckage of your last relationship. 

It wasn't just a breakup; it was a tempest that left you bruised, not only on the surface but also in the recesses of your soul. 

To declare a dread of relationships, despite the quiet longing that flickers deep within, would be an understatement—the mere thought evokes the echoes of a tumultuous past, a cautionary tale etched in both physical and emotional hues of black and blue.

Despite the man's disapproving frown, he begrudgingly parts with his payment, snatching his coffee and muffin.

As he vacates the space, you extend a tight-lipped greeting to the next customer, the forced smile a delicate masquerade concealing the intricacies of emotion churning beneath the surface.

Day after day unfolds in this relentless routine, a relentless loop where, despite the suffocating weight of depression, you muster the strength to haul yourself into work. 

The struggle is an unspoken battle, fought in the silent recesses of your soul, and each morning becomes a victory against the persistent darkness that threatens to engulf your spirit.

You maintain a lifeline to your friends, weaving a narrative of your somber mood and emotional tumult, acutely aware of the significance of vocalizing your feelings rather than succumbing to the perilous grip of silent suffering.

Recent conversations with your friends have taken an unexpected turn, steering into the realm of your dating life or, more accurately, its conspicuous absence. 

Their fervent advocacy for you to reenter the world of romance echoes in your ears, their well-intentioned pleas urging you to cross paths with someone great and amazing. 

However, you find yourself standing at the crossroads of uncertainty, unsure if you're ready to navigate the labyrinth of love once more. 

Despite your reservations, you indulge them, allowing their words to wash over you like a waterfall of unsolicited advice, all the while steadfast in your understanding that a man is not a prerequisite for happiness or the completeness of your life—you've long recognized your ability to stand firm and flourish on your own terms.

An entire season has unfurled its tapestry, and while the vast void persists within the caverns of your heart, there's a subtle transformation underway. Amidst the lingering shadows, a sliver of the sun's warm rays threads its way through, gently illuminating the emptiness. 

The caress of warm weather and sunlight manages to coax a faint lift in your mood, a subtle thawing of the emotional frost. 

Yet, amidst the burgeoning warmth, there's a yearning for the crispness of cold, the kind that invites the comfort of wool sweaters and socks, beckoning a desire to cocoon on the couch and lose yourself in the embrace of solitude.

After withstanding the relentless onslaught of your friends' persistent prodding into the realm of your love life, you've yielded to the chorus of their well-meaning badgering. With a mixture of trepidation and curiosity, you've made the bold decision to reenter the intricate dance of the dating game.

The prospect of discovering 'the one' remains shrouded in uncertainty, a delicate balance between the promise of profound connection and the potential peril of heartache from those who might not treat you right. 

However, the ambiguity of the journey doesn't deter your resolve. To remain passive is to forfeit the chance at something extraordinary. 

The echoes of Iseul and the silent encouragement from your departed parents reverberate, urging you to embrace life with all its intricate hues. Their unwritten wish for your happiness becomes the compass guiding your path, compelling you to take the plunge and give it your all.

You yearn for a life where the pursuit of happiness isn't punctuated by the haunting inevitability of departures and loss. You grasp the harsh truth that people leaving or departing through death is an inescapable facet of existence, a relentless current in the river of life. 

Yet, the recurring tide of sorrow that washes over you each time someone departs feels burdensome, a weight that anchors your spirit. It would be a cherished reprieve if the ebb and flow of life's transitions didn't carry with it a relentless undertow that threatens to drag you down each time.

Your dating escapades have unfolded like a series of misadventures, each rendezvous more perplexing than the last. 

One suitor wielded an aggressive tone that eclipsed any potential connection, while another was so absorbed in self-interest that your voice seemed but an echo in the conversation. Then there was the one who sought solace in your company to mend a broken heart, an unwitting participant in their quest for emotional repair.

With every disappointing encounter, your hopes wane like the dying embers of a once-bright flame. Yet, undeterred, you persist in the pursuit of connection, a resilient soul navigating the unpredictable seas of dating with unwavering determination.

Amidst the tumultuous sea of advice from your friends, the suggestion of a night out clubbing emerges as a potential remedy to jumpstart your dating life—a one-night stand, a shortcut to reclaiming agency over your love life. 

However, the proposition fails to align with the essence of who you are. The neon-lit allure of the club scene doesn't resonate with your soul, and the idea of a fleeting encounter doesn't hold the promise you seek. 

Nonetheless, you find yourself engulfed in a pulsating sea of sound, the music in the club roaring, the bass reverberating through the floor and into your bones. 

The atmosphere is a maelstrom of heat and sweat, a suffocating embrace that intensifies your regret for being there. 

Yuna, exuding an air of confidence, takes charge and orders a round of drinks for the group. Meanwhile, Nari's eyes scan the lively chaos of the club, a vigilant matchmaker on a mission to uncover potential matches for you.

Her finger extends with a pointed certainty toward a mysterious figure—a dark-haired man sporting a sleeveless shirt, the canvas of his arm adorned with an intricate tattoo sleeve. His dark eyes, scanning the crowded expanse of the club, carry an enigmatic intensity, hinting at a captivating allure that goes beyond the surface.

Your laughter carries a blend of amusement and skepticism as you dismissively remark, “Nah, he's giving off major fuckboy vibes.”

Amidst the cacophony of pounding music in the club, Nari practically shouts in your face, her words punctuating the beat as she insists, “Maybe that's exactly what you need!” 

The intensity of her proclamation, a fervent plea for spontaneity, reverberates in the air, a challenge thrown into the whirlwind of the night's possibilities.

You shake your head, a firm yet polite rejection lingering on your lips, “No, thank you.” 

Just as the tension subsides, Yuna appears with a tray of drinks, a timely distraction. Gratefully, you accept your drink, savoring the sweet and sour concoction that dances across your palate, momentarily providing respite from the charged atmosphere of the club.

The night unfolds in a rhythm of measured indulgence—a few drinks to chase a gentle buzz, steering clear of the edge of intoxication. Your gaze scans the crowd in search of potential matches, but amidst the pulsating lights and swirling music, none captures the elusive spark that ignites a genuine interest.

As the night deepens and the rhythm of the club starts to fade, you bid farewell to your friends, the weight of the evening settling in your bones. 

Stepping out into the nocturnal air, you're greeted by the relentless cascade of rain, a torrential downpour that catches you off guard. Damn it, you realize, a surge of annoyance coursing through you, you didn't bring an umbrella.

Embracing a sudden burst of defiance, you make a split-second decision, a resolute ‘fuck it’ echoing in your mind. 

Stepping onto the sidewalk without the shelter of an umbrella, you surrender to the unrelenting rain. In mere moments, your hair clings to your skin, and your clothes succumb to the downpour.

As you navigate the labyrinth of alleys and pass by numerous apartments, a peculiar low noise infiltrates the ambient hum of the rain. What is that sound? 

It's a subtle yet persistent calling that arrests your movements, compelling you to strain your senses in an attempt to decipher its origin. 

It's not just your slightly tipsy mind, is it, playing tricks on you? 

The cadence of the noise feels like a desperate plea, an ethereal call for help that beckons you into a mysterious dance between reality and the unknown.

Undeterred by the absence of street lamps, you navigate a shadowy alleyway nestled between looming apartment complexes. The darkness cloaks the path ahead, but you press on, an intrepid explorer drawn to the mystery that lies beyond the veil of obscurity. 

As you draw nearer, the enigmatic noise crescendos in intensity, a haunting melody that pierces the quiet of the alley. 

Your steps quicken, and with each stride, the source becomes clearer. Could it be emanating from the depths of the dumpster?

A sense of déjà vu wraps around you, as if this eerie scene has been lifted from a cinematic reel. The dilemma tugs at your curiosity, tempting you to peer into the abyss of the dumpster, a choice that hangs in the balance. 

Yet, before you make a decision, a glimmer of relief washes over you. 

Nestled snugly beside the dumpster, a small ball of fur captivates your attention, its presence a stark contrast to the ominous shadows. 

A silhouette emerges from the darkness, and as you inch closer, the mystery unfolds into a shivering, meowing figure—a black cat. 

The frailness of the tiny creature tugs at your heartstrings, and you find yourself hunching down, extending a tentative invitation with soft calls, coaxing the small, ebony bundle to bridge the gap between its vulnerability and your outstretched hand.

The black cat fixes its gaze upon you, eyes mirroring a blend of uncertainty and wariness, as if it's attempting to decipher the intentions behind your outstretched hand. 

The black cat stirs from its initial hesitation, uttering plaintive meows that seem to echo its distress. As it rises, the stark reality becomes evident—malnourished and shrouded in fear, it moves tentatively towards you. Each step seems to echo a history of abandonment and struggle. With aching slowness, the feline inches closer, navigating the wet ground with trepidation. 

Softly, you beckon the malnourished feline closer, the words “Come here, you poor thing” carrying an invitation laced with compassion. 

As the tiny creature inches nearer, its pitch-black eyes become an intense focal point, a gaze that transcends the physical realm, peering into the depths of your soul. In that poignant exchange, a silent pact forms—an unspoken promise of comfort and understanding between two beings, each seeking solace in the other's company.

As the fragile black cat draws near, an echo from your past resurfaces—the cautionary words of your mother reverberating in your mind. ‘Black cats bring omen and death,’ her voice, etched in childhood memories, had warned. 

Yet, confronted with the stark vulnerability of this shivering, lost creature in the cold summer rain, you find your resolve tested. 

Against the weight of your mother's superstitions, compassion prevails, and you make a conscious decision to offer refuge. You haven’t got anything else to lose, but yourself.

The cat's purrs resonate in the quiet alley, a melodic response to the tentative connection forming between you. Meows become a symphony of trust as it finally caresses your hand, a delicate dance of vulnerability. 

With a newfound intimacy, it leans into your touch, climbing up your arm to find refuge in your lap. Despite your jacket's damp embrace, you pull the shivering creature closer, enfolding it tightly against your chest.

“I’ll take you home and get you some food.”

Rising from the damp alley, you cradle the tiny black cat in your arms, an intimate embrace that transcends the physicality of the moment. As you navigate the journey home, each step becomes a testament to the newfound connection—its fragile heartbeat resonating against your chest.

As you finally reach the sanctuary of your home, both you and the shivering cat are thoroughly drenched from the relentless rain. 

With a twist of the key, you unlock the door to your small apartment, ushering in a breath of warmth that contrasts sharply with the damp chill outside. 

In a choreography of relief, you kick off your sodden shoes, the cat nestled at your feet. Unburdened by the weight of the rain-soaked coat, you hang it on the rack, a visual symbol of the transition from the stormy world outside to the comforting refuge within the four walls of your home.

“I'll find you a towel and dry you off,” you promise to the cat, your words a tender reassurance before your feet. With a sense of urgency, you hasten to the bathroom, a quest for a towel becoming a mission to provide comfort to your newfound companion.

As you return, traces of wet footprints mark the path from the entryway to your living room, leading to the sight of the cat perched regally on your couch. 

The unexpected image elicits a sense of awe within you, a silent marvel at the fortuitous encounter that has unfolded. With the fluffy towel in hand, you join the tiny creature on the couch.

With gentle strokes, you tenderly dry the cat with the fluffy towel, the rhythmic purrs and meows resonating like a melody of gratitude. 

In this intimate act of care, a bond forms between you and the feline, its response a testament to the shared understanding that has quietly blossomed. 

The dampness of the storm may linger outside, but within the confines of your home, a warmth permeates, forged through the simple yet profound act of offering comfort to a fragile soul.

Persistently, the cat continues its chorus of meows, its nearly obsidian eyes fixed on you with an intensity that transcends mere feline curiosity. In the silent exchange, a profound question lingers in the air—what does it want? 

The gaze carries an almost pleading quality, an unspoken plea that invites you to unravel the mysteries hidden within those enigmatic eyes, and in doing so, embark on a journey of connection and understanding with this small, mysterious soul.

A revelation flickers in your mind like a sudden burst of light—food! 

The realization washes over you, and a spark of understanding illuminates the unspoken hunger behind those pleading eyes. “You're starving, ain't ya?” you murmur, the words a bridge between the two of you, an acknowledgment of shared needs and the beginning of a silent commitment to provide not just shelter but sustenance to this small, hungry soul.

In a hurried dance between care and necessity, you dart into the kitchen, swinging open the fridge door to unleash a blast of cold air. 

The realization that your wet clothes might lead to an impending cold nudges at you, urging a brief pause for self-care. As you contemplate changing into dry attire, the cat, now a nimble companion, weaves around your feet, a symphony of meows echoing its anticipation of the impending feast.

As your gaze sweeps across the contents of the fridge, a flurry of questions dance in your mind—what do cats like? 

In a moment of culinary improvisation, you spot the remnants of yesterday's fish. A hopeful assumption takes hold—cats like fish, right? 

Without a second thought, you snatch the container, crack it open, and ceremoniously place it on the floor. 

The cat descends upon the fish with a voracity that borders on desperation, consuming it in a whirlwind of seconds. 

You observe in silent fascination as the cat devours the fish with an almost primal fervor, each bite a testament to the depth of its hunger.

As the cat lifts its gaze, those dark, fond eyes fixate on you, a silent expression of gratitude that transcends words, forging a connection that lingers in the air like the sweet aftertaste of an unexpected bond.

You retrieve a bowl, fill it with water, and place it on the floor. The cat, having satisfied its hunger, wastes no time. It immediately dips its tongue into the water, each lap a testament to the thirst that had accompanied its hunger. 

In the quiet aftermath of the cat's meal, you find yourself engaged in a one-sided conversation. While it laps up the water, you speak to it with a hint of longing, as if expecting the feline to reveal its name with a mere glance. “I don't know what your name is…” you muse aloud, your words hanging in the air like a silent plea for connection. 

In the exchange, a profound yearning takes root—a desire not just to care for this creature but to unravel the mystery that shrouds it, beginning with the revelation of a name.

Hmm... A whimsical idea takes shape in your mind, and with a voice full of hope, you share your musings with the feline companion. “I don't know, maybe I'll give you one!” you exclaim, the words tinged with the excitement of a newfound connection.

Testing the waters, you propose a couple of names with a hopeful lilt in your voice. “Shadow?” you venture, eyes fixated on the cat, seeking any flicker of recognition. 

Yet, met with a stoic demeanor, you playfully offer another option, “Licorice?” 

A soft chuckle escapes your lips, but the cat remains unfazed, engrossed in its culinary pursuits. 

Embracing a sudden surge of inspiration, you think of a name that dances on the edges of whimsy and mischief. “You look like a 'Loki,' like a God of Mischief!” The words tumble out with a playful chuckle, a nod to the elusive charm that shrouds the feline. 

To your surprise, the cat interrupts its feast, casting what seems like a dumbfounded expression your way. 

A moment of shared acknowledgment hangs in the air before the cat resumes its meal, leaving you to wonder if, in that fleeting pause, you've glimpsed the spark of recognition in its enigmatic eyes.

An impromptu burst of enthusiasm seizes you, and with an abrupt yell, you christen the cat in a moment of whimsy. “Kitten!” 

The exclamation is so sudden that it startles the cat, prompting a small leap in surprise. “That's your name. You're so small, like a little kitten,” you playfully jest, mimicking the affectionate cooing one might give to a baby. 

In the imaginary realm where cats understand human whims, you half-expect a hypothetical eye-roll, as if the creature were a miniature human indulging in the theatrics of a quirky naming ceremony.

In the wake of your spontaneous naming ceremony, Kitten darts away, a streak of fur and energy leaving you in its playful wake. A fleeting attempt to follow its swift movements reveals the futility of keeping pace with this agile companion.

An earnest plea escapes your lips, “No, don't run away, Kitten!” A plea that halts not far from your bedroom, where a sudden idea takes root. “We're going to bed, and you can even sleep in my bed.” The promise hangs in the air, an invitation that sparks the cat's curiosity. 

Without hesitation, Kitten races back to you, weaving through your legs and darting into the bedroom. It watches itself in the mirror in front of your bed, before it in a graceful leap, lands on the bed, transforming this impromptu offer into a shared moment of warmth and companionship.

A soft chuckle escapes you as Kitten, with a graceful twirl, transforms into a snug, fluffy black ball. It settles onto the bed, a picture of contentment and trust, the rhythmic rise and fall of its breathing echoing in the room. 

In the sanctuary of your bathroom, the day's residue fades away as you delicately remove stained makeup and indulge in your nightly skincare rituals. 

With a sense of quiet reverence, you return to the bedroom, mindful not to disrupt Kitten's serene repose. Nestled in bed, you prop yourself up, the rhythmic routine a prelude to the tranquility that envelops the room. 

As you surrender to the embrace of sleep, the ethereal presence of the black cat becomes a silent companion in the journey between waking and dreams, a guardian of the night's secrets.

In the intimate company of Kitten, you find solace in the honesty of your own reflection. “He wasn't really for me, Kitten. I don't know why I keep going on these dates. They amount to nothing.” A sigh punctuates your admission, a subtle echo of the unspoken search for connection that seems elusive in the realm of human encounters. 

As you delve into a shared meal with your newfound family member – Kitten, you stuff your face with delicious food in an attempt to keep your minds off your failing romantic life.

Kitten responds to your words with a series of gentle meows, a seemingly agreeable chorus that resonates in the room. 

Over the past few days, he has transformed into an impeccable listener, absorbing the tapestry of your thoughts with silent grace. 

In the quiet moments of your soliloquies, a yearning surfaces—a desire for more than a feline confidant, for words that echo back with advice and wisdom. 

Yet, despite this unfulfilled wish, Kitten's silent companionship remains a source of profound comfort, his presence weaving seamlessly into the fabric of your daily life, a testament to the unexpected connections that emerge in the quiet interludes of solitude.

Consistent as the rhythm of a heartbeat, Kitten is there, a patient sentinel awaiting your return from the hustle of the day. 

His presence becomes a cherished routine, an embodiment of comfort that transcends the mundanity of the everyday. 

As you settle in front of the television, Kitten gracefully claims his place in your lap, his form snuggling into the contours of your warmth. 

The scene unfolds like a silent ballet, a dance between two beings finding solace in the quietude of shared moments—a testament to the profound bond that has blossomed in the intimate spaces of your daily life.

On a day marked by what you'd deem a successful date, you decide to bring the guy home to your apartment. 

Kitten welcomes you with joyous meows, but the moment his obsidian eyes lock onto the man, a palpable shift occurs. 

The cat's once-hospitable demeanor morphs into a display of territorial assertion—he hisses, claws unsheathed, a guardian of the sacred space that has become both haven and sanctuary.

Unfazed by Kitten's display of discontent, the man follows you into the bedroom, a trail of unresolved tension lingering in the air. However, as you attempt to navigate the fragile balance between human relationships and the silent protests of your feline confidant, Kitten stalks in with palpable anger. 

Kitten's claws assert their protest on the man's pants, a silent plea echoing through the room. “I'm so sorry about my cat. He's not usually like this,” you hastily apologize, attempting to navigate the tumultuous intersection of human connection and feline territoriality. 

In the midst of the uneasy dance, the guy gently guides you down onto the bed, a kiss bridging the gap between words left unsaid and the uncharted landscapes of desire.

In an unforeseen twist, Kitten catapults onto the bed, launching a surprise attack on the poor man's back with unbridled ferocity. 

The room erupts with a sudden commotion as the guy yells in pain, Kitten swiftly retreating to the shelter of your startled embrace.

Frustration and pain tinge the man's voice as he vehemently declares, “Fuck this. This isn't worth it! Your cat is a fucking psycho!” 

The words hang in the air, a bitter testament to the unexpected turbulence that has unraveled in the wake of Kitten's feline intervention. 

With an angry storm, the man storms out of your bedroom and through the front door, leaving behind a charged atmosphere and the unresolved echoes of a connection unraveling at the seams.

As the storm of emotions settles, Kitten finds solace in your lap, a contented purr resonating through the room—a feline sovereign basking in the aftermath of his territorial triumph. 

Meanwhile, you remain seated, mouth agape, an image of stunned disbelief etched across your face. 

You address Kitten with a scolding tone, attempting to impart a sense of reprimand into the air. “You can't do that, Kitten!” you assert, a firmness in your voice attempting to breach the language barrier between human and feline.

Amidst the aftermath, a hesitant chuckle escapes your lips, a soft attempt to diffuse the tension that lingers in the air. “Also, you're gonna leave me single forever if you do that,” you jest, the words bearing the weight of both humor and a subtle unease. 

In the ambiguous space between laughter and contemplation, you grapple with the conflicting emotions stirred by Kitten's unexpected display of protectiveness—a complex blend of gratitude, amusement, and the uncharted territories of understanding the intricate dynamics of companionship with a creature whose language transcends the boundaries of words.

A solitary figure with raven-black hair occupies a corner table in the cafe, his presence shrouded in an air of quiet mystery that tugs at the edges of your memory. 

Intrigued, you've stolen glances at him, an unspoken connection sparking curiosity within you. 

The man, seemingly lost in a world of words and sketches within the pages of his journal, emanates a strange familiarity that dances on the fringes of your consciousness. 

As he sips on his coffee, a poignant picture of solitude and anticipation, you can't help but wonder about the untold story woven into the fabric of his contemplative gaze. Perhaps he's a poet awaiting inspiration, or maybe, like you, he's caught in the delicate dance of anticipation, waiting for someone who may never arrive.

His long, pitch-black hair cascades in soft curls, framing a face adorned with dark, expressive eyes. The fair and creamy complexion of his skin, paired with lips tinged with the aftermath of fervent bites, adds an air of mystery to his features. His hands, adorned with prominent veins, move with purpose across the pages of his journal, translating the thoughts within his mind into tangible strokes. Clad in a black leather biker jacket and ripped jeans, he emanates a ‘bad boy’ allure that might not align with your usual preferences, yet there's an undeniable handsomeness that transcends the surface. As you observe, the truth unfolds—looks can be deceiving, you know.

As the hands of the clock inch towards the conclusion of your shift, you notice the enigmatic man with the pitch-black hair has vanished, leaving only the echo of his presence lingering in the now vacant corner. 

The air is charged with the unspoken allure of an encounter that slipped through the fingers of time. 

Packing up your belongings, you carry the weight of curiosity with you as you embark on the journey home, where the enigmatic enigma of Kitten awaits.

Kitten, sensing your return, greets you with a symphony of affectionate meows. Your hand instinctively reaches out, weaving a tapestry of gentle pats and strokes, an unspoken language shared between human and feline. With a contented sigh escaping your lips, you murmur, “Happy to be home.”

In the quiet sanctuary of your apartment, you find yourself recounting the day's enigmatic encounter to Kitten, the words lingering in the air like a shared secret between kindred spirits. “I saw the loneliest guy today, Kitten. It felt like he was waiting for someone, but destiny stood him up.” 

As the words escape your lips, Kitten's attentive gaze reflects an unspoken understanding, a silent pact shared between you and your feline confidant.

Your fingers delicately dance behind Kitten's ears, a gesture that elicits a symphony of contented purrs, resonating within the confines of your quiet haven. 

The next day unfolds like a familiar scene, the cafe's atmosphere steeped in the aroma of coffee and the rustle of pages turning. 

Once again, the mysterious black-haired man graces the corner with his presence, accompanied by a steaming cup of coffee and the enigmatic dance of his pen across the pages of his journal. 

Your curiosity, a flame flickering in the recesses of your thoughts, draws you to the edge of decision — to approach and unravel the mysteries that cloak him. Yet, an invisible barrier holds you back, a silent pact with yourself not to disturb the solitary poet whose verses remain unread. 

The elusive man, shrouded in the mystery of unread words, remains a realm unexplored, as each coffee order becomes a bridge guarded by your coworker.

As the day unfolds, the mysterious man persists in his corner, a captivating enigma that draws your attention like a moth to a flame. 

The rhythmic ballet of your daily routine continues, an intricate dance of serving customers while stealing glances in his direction. 

In the quiet recesses of your mind, a burning question simmers – who could possibly stand up this captivating soul, adorned with the allure of dark hair and an air of mystery that commands the room?

After days of observing the silent saga of the man and his solitude, a week of unbroken routine, your empathy swells like a rising tide. 

A magnetic force compels you to bridge the distance, and against the backdrop of the cafe's ambient hum, your feet, as if guided by an invisible hand, carry you to the table where he patiently awaits an absent companion. 

With a mix of curiosity and compassion, you settle into the chair opposite him, breaking the invisible barrier that held you apart.

As your presence disrupts the solitude he had grown accustomed to, his intense gaze, reminiscent of a predatory feline, lifts from the pages of his journal to meet your own. The sharpness in his eyes feels like a calculated assessment, causing a subtle tremor to course through you. You gulp.

“Hi,” you start, the uncertainty palpable in your voice. Attempting to mask your nervousness, your fingers run through your hair, a feeble defense against the anxious tide. 

“I’ve noticed you here alone for the past few days, and I just—” Your words stumble, caught in the rush, but before you can continue, he interjects with a voice sharp as a blade, his eyes piercing through you like he can unravel your deepest secrets. 

“Are you stalking me?” The question hangs in the air, and his gaze feels like an X-ray, laying bare your darkest thoughts. Your body seizes, frozen in the penetrating gaze that seems to pry into the very recesses of your soul.

Why does his voice carry a hint of familiarity, resonating through the air like an echo from another time?

His very presence, too, feels like a distant memory, even though you're certain you hadn't laid eyes on him before he entered the cafe a week ago. 

A subtle smirk plays on his lips, a realization dawning on you that he's asked a question. As you attempt to gather your thoughts, you find yourself choking on air, grappling to string together a coherent response.

“I'm kidding. I know you work here,” he chuckles, and you release a breath you hadn't realized you were holding. Your shoulders ease, and in an instant, you respond with a soft smile, a subtle connection forming in that shared moment of relief.

“Are you waiting for someone?” you inquire, and a smile graces his face, revealing gleaming white teeth and pink gums. He looks cute. Dangerously so.

“Nah. She just arrived.” Your eyes light up. Finally, his date has shown up! You start to rise from your chair, eager to make space for his companion. He looks up at you, a curious expression on his face, and asks, “What are you doing?”

“Making room for your date?” you quip, utterly dumbfounded.

“Date?” he asks with a raised brow. You nod, adding, “The one you’ve been waiting for.”

“But I’m already looking at her.” Your mouth hangs wide open; did you just hear him right? Is this a pickup line? And why on earth is it working?

You chuckle nervously, the sound a stark contrast to his calm and cool demeanor.

You ease back into your chair, and the conversation flows so naturally that you feel like you've known him for years.

Upon returning home, you excitedly share the details of your day with Kitten, recounting the encounter with the handsome man with his curly hair and piercing eyes. While you stroke Kitten and he purrs contentedly, you express your perplexity about the strange sense of familiarity the man emanated, despite being certain you've never met him before.

Kitten twirls and purrs in your lap, savoring the gentle strokes as you recline on your couch.

“I can't help but wonder if he'll be there again tomorrow,” you muse, your voice a soft melody to the room, accompanied by Kitten's content purrs.

He returned to the cafe the next day, and the next and the next turned into weeks.

He dedicates every moment to his secluded corner, and during your breaks you find solace in the cadence of your conversations. His name, Yoongi, resonates with the soulful poems that he breathes life into with his well-worn guitar. You’ve never heard him play or sing, but you look forward to the day you might.

His question pierces through the hum of the café, abruptly pulling you from your reverie as you delicately nibble on your muffin. “Are you heading home for the summer break?” he inquires, the unexpected interruption leaving a sweet and curious taste lingering on your lips.

As his question hangs in the air, you lock eyes with him, realizing he might not grasp the gravity of his inquiry. 

There's a momentary sag in your shoulders, a silent acknowledgment of the pain that lies beneath. Gathering the strength to respond, you share a piece of your past, “No. My parents died when I was young.”

Regret casts a shadow over his striking features in an instant, and you witness a profound apology escaping from his lips.

“I'm holding up okay. It's a tale from a while back. A car accident took my parents, leaving just my little sister and me as survivors,” you share, a poignant sadness threading through your words, your eyes misting with the memories.

He tenderly offers words of comfort, a soothing balm for your weary soul, and you allow him to lift the heaviness that clings to your spirit.

You beam at him, grateful for the warmth that radiates from his kind soul, a presence you've grown to cherish over the past few months. “And you, any exciting plans for the summer?”

“I might have to go home to my parents for a bit, but I’m not sure yet,” he shares, absentmindedly running his fingers through his soft black locks, a gesture that makes you yearn for the touch of your own hand in that sea of darkness.

“I'm telling you, bitch!” Nari slaps Yuna's thigh, a bit too enthusiastically, causing her to flinch in pain, as Nari adds with a sly grin, “She's head over heels in loooove.”

You roll your eyes at both of them, their playful banter fading into background noise as you savor the drink that Yuna ordered for you.

You've navigated downtown, finding refuge in a cozy establishment where the ambient tunes, board games, and drinks create the perfect backdrop for reconnecting with your friends.

“I swear, I'm not head over heels or anything,” you insist, batting away their teasing with a playful smirk, all the while sipping on the drink that Yuna ordered for you.

“He’s just nice,” you add with a soft smile.

“You sure do talk about him a lot,” Yuna adds in a chuckle as she rubs her thigh.

“Well, he's an interesting person, and the conversations just flow,” you reply with a grin, downplaying the significance, but your friends exchange knowing glances that hint at their suspicions.

Nari takes a sip of her drink, a mischievous glint in her eyes. “Speaking of crushes, your little companion, what's his name again? Kitten?”

You passionately defend Kitten, your eyes sparkling with affection. “Don't bring Kitten into this! I adore him,” you gush, wearing your love for the little furball as a badge of honor.

Nari shares her romantic wisdom, her words dripping with affection. “Cats are fine companions, but you should find a man who can bring you warmth and happiness,” she says, her eyes practically turning into hearts if this were a cartoon. You can't help but chuckle at her earnest advice.

Yuna playfully nudges your shoulder and suggests, “You should totally ask out this Yoongi guy. I mean, come on, you practically light up every time you talk about him.”

You pause, a moment of uncertainty hanging in the air. “Maybe,” you finally reply, your words carrying the weight of contemplation.

Nari's enthusiasm rings in your ears, a bit too loud in the cozy ambiance. “You don't have anything to lose, only more to gain!” she almost shouts, her excitement reaching its peak. Her words, fueled by a touch of intoxication, linger in the air, leaving you to ponder as you consider whether it's time to call it a night.

“Okay. I’ll ask him tomorrow.”

As you step into your apartment, Kitten greets you with an extra dose of affection, weaving himself between your legs and trailing you with heightened attention. Tonight, he appears more attuned to your every move, purring and twirling around your legs with an endearing neediness. Settling down, you can't resist his charms and find yourself seated, offering gentle strokes to his fur-covered frame.

As you wrap up your nightly routine and slip into your comfortable pajamas, you turn to Kitten with a question that has become a familiar part of your routine. 

“I'm heading to bed, Kitten. You joining?” Kitten promptly leaps onto the bed, taking his customary place by your side. 

However, tonight, there's a lingering sense of affection in his actions. He showers you with gentle licks, a gesture that brings a smile to your face. As sleep gradually claims you, your dreams are adorned with vivid images of obsidian eyes and a dark, star-studded sky.

As you awaken from a restful sleep, the absence of Kitten by your side strikes you like a sudden jolt. 

Your initial response is to sit up, calling out for him, yet there's only silence in return. 

The quietness, once comforting, now carries an eerie weight as you realize the profound impact Kitten has had on your daily life. 

The room feels emptier, and a sense of unease settles in, disrupting the peace you've grown accustomed to.

A wave of melancholy washes over you, creating a heavy ache in your chest as you scan the familiar corners of your apartment, desperately searching for any sign of Kitten. 

The unanswered questions pile up in your mind, a torrent of worries threatening to drown you. Did he, too, decide to leave, slipping away like others from your life? 

The uncertainty gnaws at you, pushing you to venture into the quiet streets, hoping against hope to uncover the fate of your feline companion. Each step is a mix of trepidation and determination, a journey into the unknown to retrieve the missing piece of your daily existence.

A sense of desperation tightens its grip as you scour every nook and cranny, but Kitten remains elusive, leaving you with the bitter taste of vanishing hope. 

The echoes of your unanswered calls hang in the air, blending with the growing unease that clings to you like a shadow. The once familiar spaces now feel like a maze, and you can't shake the sinking feeling that your luck is slipping away, slipping through your fingers like grains of sand. The haunting question persists: where could he be, and what could have taken him from your side?

With a mixture of determination and trepidation, your feet instinctively carry you back to the cafe. 

The familiar chime announces your arrival, drawing the attention of your coworker, who casts a puzzled look your way. The early hour has caught them off guard, their raised eyebrow mirroring the questions that dance in your own mind.

As you scan the cozy confines of the cafe, a subtle panic begins to creep through your veins. The absence of Yoongi creates an uneasy knot in your stomach, but you reassure yourself, clinging to the hope that he might stroll in later, as he often does.

The hours drag on, each passing moment heightening the anticipation. As the door chimes with every newcomer, a flicker of hope dances in your chest, only to be extinguished when it's not Yoongi. 

The day becomes a symphony of disappointment, and the subtle hope you clung to begins to dissipate, slipping through your fingers like elusive grains of sand. The cafe, once a haven of warmth and comfort, now feels eerily empty without the presence of his familiar silhouette.

As your shift draws to a close, a heavy sadness settles over you like a thick fog. The absence of Yoongi, who always brought a touch of warmth to the cafe, leaves an emptiness that echoes through the familiar surroundings. The unanswered questions linger in your mind, and a nagging worry creeps in — what could have kept him away? 

The air is charged with uncertainty, and you can't shake the feeling that something might have happened to him.

A sudden realization hits you like a wave, as you recall Yoongi mentioning the possibility of traveling to his parents for the summer break. 

The initial sting of disappointment transforms into a pang of concern. Questions swirl in your mind like a tempest – did he leave without saying goodbye? Why didn't he share his plans with you? 

The uncertainty gnaws at your thoughts, and you grapple with the unknown, desperately seeking solace in the memories of your time together.

A disquieting sensation twists in your stomach, an ominous premonition casting a shadow over your thoughts. The unease tightens its grip, leaving you with an unsettling sense that something may have befallen Yoongi. 

Your mind races through various scenarios, each more distressing than the last, as you grapple with the haunting uncertainty that looms over his absence.

Regret echoes through your thoughts like a haunting refrain. The absence of contact details with Yoongi leaves you grappling with the repercussions of a missed opportunity, a seemingly insignificant detail now carrying the weight of your uncertainty. 

A sense of loss and yearning wraps around you, intensifying the void created by the absence of a farewell. The realization dawns that in the midst of budding connection, you failed to secure a bridge to traverse the distance that now separates you.

Each step on the journey home feels like a weighted march, the heaviness of unspoken goodbyes sinking into your bones. 

Sorrow, like a relentless tide, floods your heart, consuming it with an ache that echoes through each footfall. Familiar pangs of longing claw at your chest, constricting breaths into fleeting gasps. 

It's as if the very air you breathe carries the weight of an unfinished story, leaving you to navigate the foggy terrain of uncertainty, the poignant residue of an incomplete connection lingering in the spaces between each step.

A tempest of thoughts unleashes in your mind, a whirlwind of self-doubt and abandonment. The notion that he, too, might have slipped away like others before him wraps around your heart, squeezing it in an unforgiving grip. The ache is palpable, resonating through every fiber of your being. It's an anguish that cuts deep, a symphony of hurt orchestrated by the haunting possibility that echoes in the chambers of your wounded heart.

In the intricate tapestry of your time knowing him, he wasn't just a passing figure; he had etched himself into the mosaic of your life, becoming a fragment that held the essence of friendship. 

You step into the sanctuary of your apartment, liberating your feet from the constraints of shoes, and collapse onto the couch, surrendering to its plush contours that cradle you in a cocoon of solace.

In the midst of trying to regain control of your racing breaths, a subtle vibration resonates from your pocket, drawing your attention like a lifeline. Retrieving your phone, you cast an intrigued glance at the illuminated screen, revealing an incoming call from Yuna.

With bated breath, you answer the call, the familiar cadence of Yuna's voice instantly arresting your senses. 

An unexpected wave of emotions surges through you, freezing you in the moment as her words weave a narrative you weren't prepared for.

The weight of her words hangs heavy in the air, a heartbreaking tremor in her voice as she struggles to regain composure. 

“Babe,” she utters, the tearful plea slicing through the silence like a dagger.

You can feel the gravity of the situation intensify as she reveals, “It's Nari,” the name echoing with a sense of foreboding that pierces through the air, leaving you breathless.

Dread hangs thick in the air as you muster the courage to ask, your voice trembling with fear and concern. “What about Nari?” 

The words escape your lips, each syllable a hesitant step into the unknown, and as you sit up on your couch, a sense of urgency grips you, rendering you more alert than ever before.

The weight of Yuna's words crashes over you like an unrelenting wave, drowning your senses.

“She's gone,” Yuna sobs, her cries echoing in your ears. 

A sudden chill grips your entire body, and the world around you blurs as your vision turns white. 

Tears well up, threatening to spill over, and an indescribable ache settles in the core of your being. It feels as if the ground beneath you has shifted, leaving you suspended in a surreal and devastating moment.

Your voice quivers as you manage to break through the numbness, the question escaping your lips like a fragile whisper. 

“How?” you repeat, the word catching in the tightness of your throat. Tears cascade down your cheeks, each drop carrying the weight of an ocean, a torrential release of the overwhelming emotions within you. 

Your friend's voice wavers with sorrow as she delivers the painful revelation. “Apparently, she was sick and didn’t tell anybody…” 

Each word, heavy with the burden of the unspoken, echoes in the emptiness of your apartment.

The truth, a bitter pill to swallow, lingers in the air, and you find it hard to comprehend the reality of the situation. 

The walls of your sanctuary, once comforting, now press in on you, transforming your home into a claustrophobic cage of grief. The world outside seems to blur, and all that remains is the weight of disbelief settling on your shoulders.

The longing to share your grief with Yoongi intensifies, yet the barrier of not having his contact details becomes a painful obstacle. Your emotions, already tumultuous, now surge like a tempest within. 

Frustration and sorrow intermingle, a chaotic dance that you try to contain. 

As the weight of the news presses down on you, your nails unconsciously dig into your skin, seeking an outlet for the overwhelming emotions that threaten to consume you. The physical pain becomes a tangible manifestation of the emotional turmoil churning within.

The abruptness of Nari's illness and passing hits you like an unforeseen storm, leaving you grappling with disbelief. 

Memories of her last moments flash vividly, and you question the cruel twist of fate that snatched away someone seemingly healthy. The sounds of inconsolable sobbing echo in your ears, and only then do you realize that the mournful cries tearing through the air belong to you. 

“Are you alright?” Yuna asks you in sobs.

The weight of grief presses down on you, suffocating and relentless. 

As the tears stream down your face, each one carries a piece of the pain that now resides within you. 

“No,” you whisper, the word a feeble attempt to encapsulate the magnitude of your despair. 

Your body curls inwards, seeking solace in the fetal position, as if you could fold away the anguish. 

The phone lies beside you, a lifeline to Yuna's distant sobs, but it offers little comfort compared to the absent warmth of Kitten, whose presence could once bring solace to even the darkest moments.

The weight of Yuna's words hangs heavy in the air, a shroud of truth that you're forced to confront. “Babe, she had cancer and didn't want us to know… She wanted to live a happy life until the end,” 

Yuna sobs again, and though her intent is to offer solace, the revelation feels like a cascade of heavy stones on your already burdened heart. The bitter sweetness of her desire for a joyful life juxtaposed with the pain of her silent struggle adds another layer to the grief, leaving you to grapple with the complexities of Nari's hidden battles.

“Yuna…,” you cry, the anguish in your voice echoing the profound pain that seems to squeeze the very life out of your heart. 

“Why does everyone leave?” 

The question hangs in the air, more rhetorical than expectant, as if you're not seeking an answer from Yuna but grappling with the cruel patterns of departure that life has woven into the fabric of your existence. 

Each departure, like a thread pulled from the tapestry of your world, leaves an unraveled piece that never quite knits itself back together.

“I–, I don’t know,” she stammers through her tears, the weight of the unknown echoing in her voice, mirroring the uncertainty that now shrouds both of your lives.

“Promise we’ll be there for each other,” you declare, the weight of the words hanging in the air. It's a poignant plea, an acknowledgment of life's unpredictable twists. You understand that you can't ask for an eternity, but in this moment, you're determined to hold onto each other as tightly as time allows.

“Count on it,” she vows, her response flowing effortlessly, a testament to the unspoken bond between you two.

Despite the tightening in your throat, a glimmer of happiness sparks within you at the assurance she just gave.

Why must life be so fucking cruel, robbing you of everyone you hold dear?

An overwhelming urge to reconnect with your sister washes over you, a deep yearning fueled by the ache of prolonged silence between you.

“I want to call my sister,” you manage to say through your sobs, a desperate plea lacing your words. “Will you be alright, Yuna?” you ask, your concern breaking through the waves of grief that surround you both.

“Yeah. I mean, I'm fucking sad, but go ahead and call her. Can I come to your place tomorrow?” Yuna's voice carries a subtle plea, a shared understanding that neither of you wants to be alone in the midst of sorrow.

“Yeah, I'd love that,” you respond, your voice carrying the weight of grief and the faint glimmer of gratitude for the companionship that awaits tomorrow. As you attempt to dry your tears with a throw blanket on the couch, the room feels emptier than ever, and the ache in your heart persists.

“See you tomorrow,” she says before the call ends. 

The hollowness in the room deepens, and you draw in a shaky breath, your gaze fixed on your phone. The background image captures a moment frozen in time, featuring you, Nari, and Yuna. 

God, the ache of missing her intensifies, and you can't shake the heaviness in your chest.

You tighten your grip on the phone, each tear that escapes your eyes a silent testament to the pain in your heart. Determination wells up as you locate your sister's number, fingers tracing the familiar digits, ready to bridge the gap that time and distance have carved between you.

The rhythmic ringing echoes through the emptiness of your apartment, each tone a reminder of the solitude that now envelops you. 

Anxiety gnaws at the edges of your thoughts as you anticipate the warmth of your sister's voice, a comfort you desperately need. Yet, the unanswered calls amplify the distance that separates you. With a heavy heart, you decide against leaving a message, the weight of unspoken words settling as you slump back onto the couch.

The sudden vibration of your phone startles you, and as you glance at the screen, the sight of your sister's name sparks a mixture of relief and anticipation. With a soft sniffle, you muster the strength to answer, “Hey, sis,” your voice laced with a blend of vulnerability and longing, reaching out across the digital expanse to bridge the emotional gap that separates you.

A chill courses through your body, rendering you motionless, as a deep, resonant voice resonates through the phone, catching you off guard.

“Hey,” his voice echoes through the phone, sending a shiver down your spine. 

Your trembling hand clutches the device, and you find yourself holding your breath, caught in the sudden intensity of the moment.

“I'm Detective Kim,” he introduces himself, his voice echoing through the line. It carries a calm demeanor, yet beneath its surface, you detect a subtle undertone of sadness, adding a mysterious depth to his words.

This can't be good, you murmur to yourself, the words barely escaping your lips as a chill courses through your veins, turning your blood to ice once again.

“Are you Jiho's sister?” The detective's voice remains steady and calm, but beneath the surface, you sense an undercurrent of gravity and anticipation.

“Yes,” you reply, your voice catching in a sob as you struggle to contain your tears. The ominous feeling intensifies, and you can't shake the sinking realization that a detective is the one answering your sister's phone. 

The air becomes heavy with uncertainty and fear.

“I'm deeply sorry to be the bearer of this news,” he begins with a sympathetic tone. 

You inhale sharply, bracing yourself for the impact of the words that follow.

“Your sister has passed away.” 

The world seems to shatter around you as the weight of his message settles in, leaving you breathless and heartbroken.

In that devastating moment, it feels as if the very foundation of your existence crumbles. 

Your body and soul plummet through a void, each passing second an agonizing countdown to the inevitable impact that will shatter you into a million irreparable pieces. 

The weight of grief bears down on you, and you're suspended in a free fall of despair. 

You become acutely aware of your breath, or the lack thereof, as if the air itself has turned into a suffocating force, triggering a torrent of violent inhalations, each one a desperate attempt to grasp onto a reality that has just slipped through your fingers.

A heavy silence envelops the room as the detective imparts the devastating truth, each word landing with the weight of a sledgehammer on your fragile emotions. “She was killed,” he utters, the somber notes in his tone resonating like a funeral dirge, casting a pall over the already dim reality of your world.

A suffocating wave of panic crashes over you, rendering your extremities numb and your breath caught in the grip of invisible hands. 

The room seems to close in as the detective's voice on the phone becomes a distant echo, his words lost in the disorienting whirlwind of your own mental tempest. It's a struggle to comprehend the standard condolences and procedures he details, as if reality itself is slipping through your trembling fingers.

Fucking hell. Is this hell?

In the wake of your parents' departure, you believed you had tasted the bitterest sorrow, yet today eclipses that agony without a shadow of a doubt.

You cast your phone aside on the couch, retreating to your bedroom, collapsing onto the bed. The anguish within erupts into violent sobs, an unrelenting torrent of tears flooding from your eyes, your entire frame convulsing with the weight of your grief.

You bury your face into the softness of the pillow, muffling the guttural scream that tears from your lungs. 

The sound, a primal release of anguish, reverberates within the confines of your room. Screw the neighbors; right now, the universe needs to bear witness to the rawness of your pain.

What the fuck is up with this world? Everyone around you dies! Everyone leaves!

You can’t take it anymore.

As you surrender to the torrents of grief, you hope that tears might offer solace, a fleeting relief that could pave the way for much-needed sleep. Yet, despite your desperate attempts, the embrace of slumber eludes you, leaving you trapped in the clutches of your sorrow-soaked thoughts.

In an impulsive surge, you opt for a nocturnal stroll. Snatching your jacket, you step into the silent night, the residue of dried tears blending seamlessly with the ones that refuse to cease. 

The moon above, a silent witness to the turmoil within, as your footsteps echo the rhythm of a heart weighed down by grief.

As you traverse the familiar streets of town, a magnetic pull guiding you to a cherished park, your sanctuary. Swiftly, you arrive and gingerly settle your weary frame onto a weathered bench, the cool night air offering a gentle caress to your battered soul.

As your gaze ascends to the enchanting tapestry of the night, a celestial dance of stars unfolds above. Tonight, the cosmic expanse seems to cradle the spirits of your sister and Nari, their luminous presence illuminating the vast darkness, a celestial reunion among the constellations.

As your tears persist, you fix your eyes upon the star-lit canvas above. Each gleaming star appears like a radiant jewel, casting an ethereal glow across the night. The beauty is undeniable, yet a poignant sadness lingers in your heart. 

Compelled by an unspoken yearning, you embark on the solemn task of counting the stars, each one a celestial tribute to the cherished souls who now adorn the heavens. 

The question echoes in your mind: Why?

Why do they blaze with such brilliance, akin to a dying star igniting in a final, magnificent burst before consuming everything in its cosmic embrace?

Your heart pounds violently against your ribcage, each beat echoing through your chest, and the air feels elusive, slipping away as if you're caught in a suffocating grip.

Life reveals its cruel nature, leaving you to grapple with the relentless question: Why does everyone leave? Why does the world around you crumble, stealing away those you hold dear?

An emptiness envelopes you, a void so profound it swallows every ounce of light. Darkness creeps in, and an irresistible urge emerges, coaxing you to surrender to its consuming embrace.

Perhaps it's time to release your grip on reality and join the celestial dance of those who have departed before you?

As the tears flow, perhaps this haunting void within will dissipate, bringing an end to the relentless ache that permeates every fiber of your being.

As the weight of loneliness bears down on you, an insidious desire to surrender, to slip into an eternal slumber, creeps through your shattered heart. The yearning for an endless sleep, where the fractured pieces of your soul find solace, consumes you. It's as if the very essence of your being is crumbling into irreparable fragments.

The fragments of your soul lie scattered, and the daunting question echoes in the hollow chambers of your despair—can you summon the strength to mend them once more, to piece together the shattered remnants of your being?

In the depths of your despair, a resolute realization surfaces — a quiet but unwavering knowing that, despite the relentless cruelty, you're not ready to surrender to the void. Life, as brutal as it may be, still holds threads of resilience within its intricate tapestry, and you find an ember of strength glowing amidst the shadows.

You divert your gaze downward, focusing on your hands nestled in your lap, choosing the tangible reality of your own existence over the distant allure of the star-studded night.

You harbor too many aspirations to surrender to despair. Your desires paint a vivid canvas of dreams: to find solace in the embrace of a kind-hearted partner, secure a fulfilling career, and relish the simple joys that life offers. Nari's silent battle with illness inspires you to embrace life with the same gusto, celebrating its moments without the need for validation.

In the midst of your fragmented existence, amidst the shattering pain, you crave it all. Yearning for the entirety of life's tapestry, even when it feels like it's unraveling. 

Despite life's cruelty, there's an undeniable allure in its intricate beauty, compelling you to seek solace and embrace the stunning contradictions that define your life.

Amidst the tear-stained path, your resolve solidifies. 

The decision made, you tread back to your apartment, the silent witness to your inner turmoil. Each step echoes with the weight of your emotions, a symphony of sorrow playing in the background. 

The sanctuary of your home beckons, promising the respite that only sleep, albeit restless, can bring. Sleep, like a long-lost friend, embraces you swiftly this time. Grateful for the solace it brings, you sink into its comforting arms, the reprieve from the turmoil of the day unfolding like a gentle lullaby.

The chime of the doorbell resonates through your apartment, and you're roused from the depths of sleep. Yuna, true to her word, stands on the other side, a beacon of support in your time of need.

Embraced in a tight hug, tears stream down both your faces, the shared weight of grief transforming the silent embrace into a powerful testament of mutual understanding and shared sorrow.

Seated on the couch, you engage in a heartfelt conversation about the unpredictable journey of life—its highs and lows. 

As a comforting silence settles between you, you reach for the remote and, with a flicker of distraction, decide on a mindless show. Wrapped in the embrace of shared grief, you find solace in the soft glow of the television, its images casting a gentle veil over your weary souls.

That night, Yuna stays over, a comforting presence that feels like a blessing in the midst of your overwhelming grief.

In the vulnerable hours of the night, you pour your heart out to Yuna. 

Tears flow freely as you share the ache of losing your sister, the void left by Kitten's absence, and the fear that Yoongi might be gone forever. In the solace of shared sorrow, you find a glimmer of hope amidst the shadows.

In the tender embrace of Yuna, you find solace. Her comforting presence is a lifeline in the storm of grief, holding you close as tears cascade. Though she's often your pillar of strength, tonight you yearn to reciprocate, to be the support she's always been for you. It's a quiet understanding, an unspoken pact between friends navigating the unpredictable currents of life.

In the quiet depths of the night, as you share your pain with Yuna, a flicker of determination ignites within you. You yearn not just for solace but to become the architect of your own joy. The realization dawns that your happiness lies in the unwritten chapters of your own journey, waiting to be explored and embraced. It's a moment of self-discovery, a commitment to forge your path to happiness, independent and resilient.

With the dawn of a new day, you decide to embark on a journey of self-discovery. 

Despite the weight of sorrow lingering in your chest, you resolve to savor life in all its transient splendor—embracing its beauty, acknowledging its ugliness, and reveling in every nuanced shade in between. 

Each moment becomes a canvas, and you are determined to paint it with the vibrant strokes of resilience and newfound appreciation.

With unwavering determination, you approached your boss at the café, advocating for a shift in your work hours. The goal? To rekindle the pursuit of knowledge, to step back into the world of academia and reignite the spark of astrophysics that had once fueled your passion. 

As the prospect of returning to school looms on the horizon, you recognize that the journey ahead is both a challenge and an opportunity—a chance to sculpt a future that you can genuinely be proud of, with each completed course marking a triumph over self-doubt and a step closer to the constellations of your dreams.

In the wake of that poignant night where two cherished souls departed, a few months have quietly slipped away. 

In a tender gesture of support, Yuna encourages you to embrace the prospect of love once more. Unlike before, hesitation has no place in your heart this time. 

With newfound courage, you step into the realm of dating, a journey tinged with both vulnerability and hope, as you navigate through the tapestry of emotions woven by the threads of the past and the promises of the future.

Life, a relentless journey, doesn't yield to simplicity, yet within its intricate folds, a subtle transformation occurs. It doesn't unravel swiftly, but with each passing day, it stitches together a mosaic of improvement, a gradual emergence from the shadows into the dappled light of a better tomorrow.

With each sunrise, a symphony of healing orchestrates within you, crescendoing into a melody that resonates louder, and you find solace in the fact that every dawn gifts you a version of yourself stronger and more resilient than the preceding day.

As winter unfurls its icy embrace, you find solace in the familiar touch of your cherished wool coat, the cozy sanctuary of fluffy sweaters enveloping you like a hug from a dear friend, and the softness of warm socks cradling your every step. 

With a steaming cup of tea in hand, you dive into your studies, the brisk air outside contrasting with the warmth that courses through your veins.

Embarking on the journey to reclaim an unfinished chapter of your life, returning to the hallowed halls of academia, you revel in the triumphant echoes of resilience as you strive to complete the narrative you once set in motion.

As you tread homeward, the city draped in the melancholy hues of twilight, a fleeting silhouette dashes through the alleys, a phantom of darkness. 

For the briefest moment, memories of Kitten's playful escapades dance in your mind, a bittersweet symphony of nostalgia. 

A sigh, heavy with the weight of longing, escapes your lips, yet you trudge forward, navigating the shadows toward the warmth of your home.

In the intimate glow of your kitchen, you conjure a culinary masterpiece, a symphony of flavors orchestrated only for yourself. The sizzle of ingredients harmonizes with the rhythmic beat of your heart, a ritual of self-love that has become your refuge. 

Many a time, you've crafted these delectable creations, some shared in the company of fleeting dates whose presence, like autumn leaves, brushed briefly against the canvas of your life, but leaving no lasting imprint on your heart.

Midway through the mundane task of stowing away dishes, a subtle and mysterious hum reverberates through your abode, originating from the vicinity of your door.

The air is suddenly filled with a familiar, distant melody—a soft and rhythmic meowing that sends a jolt of excitement through you. 

Abandoning your chores, you rush to the door, fingers fumbling with the lock, and there, in all his glory, stands Kitten!

In a flurry of warmth and relief, you scoop up the cold, shivering Kitten into your embrace, quickly closing the door behind him. His meows echo gratitude, and a tender lick against your cheek seals the unspoken bond that time and distance failed to break.

In a million moments, you never fathomed seeing him again. Now, as he rests in your arms, elation courses through you like a celestial symphony, leaving you over the moon with sheer happiness.

His return is a testament to a bond beyond time, a friendship that defies the measure of days. It's not about the duration of his absence; it's about the joyous truth that he returned to you, stitching the fragments of your heart back together.

You rush to your cabinet, your heart pounding with both relief and excitement. Grabbing a can of cat food, you swiftly prepare a feast for Kitten, watching as he eagerly devours the meal, his hunger echoing the void his absence left in your life.

As you stroke Kitten's fur, you can't help but ponder on the mysteries that shroud his disappearance. His body, while not emaciated, carries the silent tales of his adventures. 

You yearn to unravel the chapters of his feline escapades, wishing you could converse with him, share the unspoken hardships, and assure him that he's found a forever home in the warmth of your embrace.

In a breathless whisper, you confess, “I've missed you so much,” the weight of your longing carried in the tenderness of your voice. 

A solitary tear, a testament to the emotions flooding your heart, escapes and dances down your cheek, mirroring the joy of a reunion long yearned for.

As the echoes of your affectionate words linger in the air, Kitten responds with a gentle purr, a harmonious melody that intertwines seamlessly with the sound of him relishing the meal.

Amidst the soft cadence of Kitten's purring, you find solace in the familiar presence of your feline companion. With a sigh, you decide to share the intricacies of the tumultuous journey you've undertaken since his absence. “So much has unfolded, Kitten,” you whisper, your voice a gentle reassurance, “a lot of shit, but also a lot of good.”

As Kitten finishes his meal, he responds with a symphony of content purrs, gracefully padding over to where you crouch. With a playful nudge against your legs, he seems to convey a silent acknowledgment, a shared moment of warmth and connection between old friends.

In the span of a few days, the void that Kitten's absence left has been filled with the comforting rhythm of his presence. You've poured out your heart to him, recounting the events and emotions that unfolded during his time away, as if catching him up on the chapters of your life. 

Kitten, with his attentive eyes and soothing purrs, seems to understand more than most, providing a silent anchor in the storm of your experiences.

As you sink into the soft embrace of your couch, a contented smile plays on your lips. With Kitten nestled beside you, you share a profound realization that has taken root in your heart: ‘I live, so I love.’ The words hang in the air, a testament to the resilience you've found in the face of life's unpredictable twists. The TV hums with background noise, but in that moment, the simple joy of companionship fills the room.

In the quiet solitude of your apartment, you confide in Kitten, the loyal companion who has witnessed both your joys and sorrows. “I don't think he's coming back,” you murmur, a tinge of sadness lingering in your voice. As if attuned to your emotions, Kitten responds with a gentle meow, a feline reassurance that transcends words. 

In the rhythmic cadence of your words, a sense of vulnerability emerges. “I know, I know. I don't need a man in my life. I get that,” you confess, your voice carrying the weight of self-awareness.

The clinking of utensils against pots and pans provides a subtle percussion to your thoughts as you continue, “But Yoongi was special, you know? Like he just got me... and I just wish for him to be happy doing whatever he's doing.” The aroma of dinner fills the air, mingling with the unspoken sentiments swirling in the room.

As you delicately feed Kitten some steamed broccoli, the notion of reuniting with Yoongi lingers in the air. “If he comes back, you should meet him – I'll introduce you!” The words spill from your lips, carrying a hopeful melody.

As you reminisce about Yoongi, a fond smile plays on your lips. “He's such a wonderful person. And handsome? Oh, his hands,” you begin, tracing the air with your fingers as if you can feel the texture of his presence. Memories flood back, each detail etched in your mind like a cherished photograph. “Long fingers, veiny hands,” you murmur, the words infused with a hint of admiration that even surprises you. The love for this man reverberates in your voice, a quiet confession to the depths of your feelings.

Kitten's melodic meow serenades the room as he gracefully weaves between your feet, his tail coiling affectionately around your calves like a comforting embrace.

“If you meet him, please don’t claw his back out like you did with that other guy. Yoongi is nice.”

With a heavy heart, you confide in Kitten, the weight of your worry evident in the rhythmic tapping of the spatula against the sizzling vegetables. “It's been nearly half a year, and I can't shake the feeling that something might have happened to him,” you murmur, the crackling sounds of the kitchen offering a somber backdrop to your uncertainty.

As the warmth of the meal envelops you and Kitten, you sit together, a silent companionship settling over the room. The simplicity of this moment strikes you, and a quiet realization unfolds – you love your life just as it is. 

In the shared silence, you feel a sense of wholeness, a testimony to the goodness found in life's simplicity. Though your heart may still ache at times, you've come to accept that, too, as a part of the beautiful complexity that makes life what it is.

You're keenly aware that time is the remedy for healing, a gentle but persistent force that gradually eases the ache until one day, the pain will be a distant echo of what it once was.

Your weary limbs protest against the demands of a full-time class schedule and cafe shifts, revealing the hidden challenges of your daily grind. Fatigue clings to you like a shadow, and an involuntary yawn escapes.

With a wearied sigh, you address Kitten, your loyal companion in fatigue. “Ah, Kitten, today's been a battle. I'm going to bed early today,” you murmur, dragging your exhausted body to the bathroom in a nightly ritual. 

Upon returning to your sanctuary, you find Kitten, already nestled in his customary spot, a comforting presence in the silent embrace of the night.

Sinking beneath the cozy duvet, you surrender to its tender embrace, the fabric cocooning you in a haven of softness. With a gentle pat, you acknowledge Kitten, “Thank you for being here,” you murmur before succumbing to the enchantment of dreamland.

As consciousness tiptoes back into your awareness, the remnants of dreams linger like elusive whispers in your mind. Gently awakening, you open your eyes to find the absence of Kitten.

Your eyes widen in astonishment, and your body tenses as you absorb the scene unfolding before you—a man, peacefully lost in the realm of dreams. 

Your gaze follows the cascade of long, slightly curly, obsidian hair that drapes over his shoulders, tracing the contours of his creamy white skin. The play of morning light reveals a well-defined back, drawing your eyes down the elegant curve of his spine until they come to rest on a small, soft, plum-like ass. The realization hits you like a bolt— he's completely naked!

Why is your heart orchestrating a rapid symphony, each beat echoing in your ears like a thunderous drumroll? And what in the world is a naked stranger doing sprawled across your sheets as though he belongs there?

He slumbers in serene oblivion, emitting soft, melodic sighs that weave through the air, his chest gracefully ascending and descending in rhythmic dance with each tranquil breath.

Wait. 

He seems familiar.

A gasp escapes your lips as you take a closer look, and the realization hits you like a bolt of lightning – it's Yoongi! 

Shock and disbelief intertwine in your chest as you stare at his peaceful slumber.

Confusion and a hint of panic surge through you as your mind races with questions. 

Why is Yoongi in your bed, and why on earth is he naked?

How did Yoongi end up here, and where is Kitten?

A myriad of questions spins through your mind, a turbulent storm of curiosity. As you ponder the mysteries, you belatedly notice Yoongi stirring, gracefully shifting to lie on his back.

Your face burns with embarrassment as the realization dawns that he's still completely naked. Heat rises to your cheeks when his half-erect dick brushes against his stomach, prompting you to instinctively shield your eyes, flustered by the unexpected sight.

You wrestle with the dilemma of whether to disturb his serene slumber or let him continue resting peacefully. The soft innocence in his sleeping form makes the decision more challenging, and you lean towards allowing him to bask in the tranquility of his dreams undisturbed.

Gently, you drape the comforting warmth of your duvet over him, a shield against the chill of the room. With nimble movements, you extract yourself from the bed, careful not to disturb the delicate balance of his slumber.

Confusion seizes your thoughts as you grapple with the surreal scenario—Yoongi peacefully nestled in your bed. You wrack your brain, questioning every sober memory, desperately trying to unearth the missing pieces that would explain his presence.

You step into the kitchen, a fleeting sense of unease prickling at your skin as you scan the room for Kitten, but he remains elusive, leaving a trace of uncertainty in the air.

A twinge of melancholy washes over you as Kitten remains elusive, but you console yourself with the hope that he might return, his absence merely a temporary void in your otherwise comforting routine.

You embark on the simple yet intimate act of preparing two steaming cups of coffee—one for yourself and one for the unexpected visitor who occupies your bed.

You seize a handful of aromatic coffee beans from a vintage jar, letting the rich fragrance envelop you as you crush them under the steady hum of your machine. With precision, you measure out the perfect amount, combining it with hot water, allowing the concoction to brew into a comforting elixir.

While the coffee brews, your mind races with bewildering thoughts about Yoongi's unexpected presence in your bed. Puzzlement clouds your senses as you contemplate every conceivable scenario. 

Did he let himself in? Was there some mysterious way he could have gained access? 

With a touch of anxiety, you even venture to your front door, checking for any signs of unauthorized entry, only to find it securely locked, shrouded in an eerie silence.

You're grappling with the perplexing mystery of Yoongi's appearance in your bed, as if he materialized out of thin air, defying all logic and reason, leaving you spellbound by the inexplicable magic that seems to have woven its way into your ordinary reality.

In the quiet chaos of your thoughts, Yoongi's presence offers more questions than answers, an enigmatic puzzle that seems to defy the ordinary. The absence of Kitten only adds another layer of mystery to the unfolding scene. 

As the coffee machine dings, disrupting the contemplative silence, you're left grappling with the surreal conundrum before you, seeking clarity in the comforting aroma of freshly brewed coffee.

With the warmth of freshly brewed coffee in your hands, you reenter the bedroom to discover Yoongi, now alert, draped in your duvet, a captivating silhouette in the soft morning light.

Your greeting falters as you nervously stammer, “H–, Hi,” setting the two mugs of coffee on your nightstand. Yoongi's gaze, sharp and feline-like, traces your every move, creating a palpable tension in the air.

An unfamiliar nervousness grips you in his presence, an unusual sensation considering your usual ease around him. Perhaps it's the fact that he's naked, his gaze akin to a predator eyeing down its prey, intensifying the air with an unspoken tension.

“Hey,” finally breaking the silence, he greets you with a low grumble, scratching his head and letting out a lazy yawn.

His body exudes a captivating blend of softness and defined muscles, a captivating sight that—

His voice, laced with a teasing smirk, breaks the tension. “Can't stop staring at my dick, huh?”

Your throat tightens as you realize you've been caught in the act, silently observing him. Panic sets in – does he think you're a freak now? Fantastic.

You let out a nervous chuckle, deliberately shifting your gaze away from the obvious bulge in the duvet around his lap. “What are you doing here, Yoongi? And why are you naked?” you inquire, genuinely puzzled.

He chuckles, a low sound that sends a shiver down your spine, and you can't help but feel a tinge of unease. “You haven't figured it out yet?” he teases, his words hanging in the air, leaving you in suspense.

You must resemble a walking question mark, because his chuckles only intensify. It's as if he finds your confusion amusing, and you're left standing there, desperate for answers in the midst of his enigmatic laughter.

In a soft tone laced with a smirk, he utters, “Kitten.”

Your gaze fixates on him, bewildered. Kitten? Is he referring to your cat?

Your jaw drops as he gracefully emerges from the bed, the duvet cascading off his frame. In his unabashed nudity, he strides toward you.

He inches closer, the proximity almost causing your lips to collide. A surge of warmth courses through you when he delicately tucks a stray strand of your hair behind your ear.

“I’m a shapeshifter,” his revelation hangs in the air, the weight of it palpable, and as he locks eyes with you, searching for any flicker of discomfort, the truth settles. Before you can process it fully, he leans in, capturing your lips with an irresistible surge of passion.

His lips, soft and inviting, embark on a slow yet passionate dance, as if reuniting with a long-lost lover. Responding eagerly, you part your lips, allowing the kiss to deepen, and in that electrifying moment, your entire body succumbs to a sensation akin to melting butter.

You yield to his touch, molding your body to his as you sense the undeniable hardness of his arousal intimately pressing against your core.

Fuck.

In the midst of the heated moment, you draw back slightly to meet his gaze, the question hanging in the air, “So... you're Kitten?”

He offers no verbal response, just a low, affirmative hum, before plunging back into another intoxicating kiss.

You surrender to the sensation, feeling the firm grip of his hands on your waist as they journey upward beneath the fabric of your well-worn shirt.

His touch ignites a trail of sensations, tracing a path across your body, sending electric shivers as he lifts your shirt, gently grazing against the contours of your breasts.

Under the intensity of his gaze, your body responds, a flush of heat spreading through you, your nipples hardening in response. He emits a low, satisfied hum, as if relishing the effect he has on you.

Effortlessly, he works to level the playing field, swiftly undressing you as if in a race against time. With a purposeful tug, he eases your shorts down, a silent declaration of his desire.

Bare before him, clad only in a simple black panty adorned with delicate pink hearts, you can't shake the vulnerability coursing through you. A sudden urge to conceal yourself washes over, a reaction to the raw exposure in this intimate moment.

“Don't shy away, you're stunning,” Yoongi murmurs, his firm grip on your hips drawing you closer to his naked body. The undeniable heat of his arousal presses against your core, a tangible reminder of the desire smoldering between you.

Gratitude escapes your lips in a hushed tone, your cheeks tinged with a warm blush.

“Now, let’s get these off you, yeah?” with a mischievous glint in his eyes, he hooks his fingers inside the fabric of your panties, teasingly tugging them down. He pauses, seeking your consent, before sensually sliding them all the way down your legs.

As he slides your panties down, a sudden awareness of your arousal hits you, intensified by the cool rush of air against your heated core.

As they fall to the floor, Yoongi swiftly snatches up your panties, bringing them to his face to inhale the intoxicating essence of your arousal, his eyes darkening with desire.

Why does that look so utterly sinful, setting off a delicious rush of arousal coursing through your veins, leaving you breathless in its wake?

As the intoxicating scent of you envelops him, he murmurs, “Damn, you smell good,” his eyes dilating with an unmistakable hunger.

“I wonder if you taste as good as you smell.”

In the raw vulnerability of your shared nakedness, he guides your body back to the bed, gently laying you down, his presence a magnetic force, hovering above you.

He immerses himself in the expanse of your neck, a symphony of sensations unfolding – a delicate ballet of tender kisses, followed by the electrifying nip of his teeth grazing the juncture between your neck and shoulder.

You moan in unabashed pleasure, your hands instinctively seeking refuge on his chiseled pectorals, anchoring yourself amidst the rising waves of bliss.

Yoongi's gaze shifts to the mirror positioned strategically in front of your bed. “I've been meaning to ask,” he smirks, locking eyes with you, “why do you have a mirror in front of your bed?”

You squirm beneath him, breath catching.”'It's part of my wardrobe panels,” you admit, your voice a fragile melody.

He chuckles, a low and enticing sound, his smirk dancing on his lips. “I don't think that's why the whole panel is mirrors,” he says, sitting up slightly. His finger traces a slow, teasing path from your collarbones to your breasts, sending shivers of anticipation racing through your body.

He leans in, his breath sending a shiver down your spine, and in a deep, low voice, he murmurs into your ear, “You're a dirty one, aren't you?”

His degrading words make your breath hitch instantly, and you involuntarily clench your thighs together. As you shake your head in disagreement, he just smirks, unconvinced.

His chuckle resonates in the room as he asks, “Do you enjoy watching yourself in the mirrors?” Sitting up, he moves to the foot of the bed, his eyes gleaming with a mischievous spark.

He gracefully steps out of the bed, casting a predatory gaze as he hovers over you, an aura of irresistible allure surrounding him.

With unwavering determination, he declares, “You're going to watch yourself in the mirror as I fuck your pussy with my tongue.” In a single, fluid motion, he seizes both of your thighs, pulling you to the foot of the bed, sending a thrilling jolt through your senses.

Despite the heat coursing through your entire being, a light chuckle escapes your lips. However, the mirth dissipates as you lock eyes with the intensity in Yoongi's dark gaze.

“Sit up,” his command echoes through the room, and as he gracefully lowers himself between your legs, a thrilling anticipation courses through the air.

From your elevated position, you admire the tousled chaos of his hair, a disheveled masterpiece that only enhances his captivating allure. His eyes gleam with a mischievous spark, a silent promise of the intensity that is about to unfold.

You seize his cheeks with urgency, your voice dripping with desire, a fervent plea escaping your lips, “Fuck. Yoongi, please eat me out.”

He moistens his lips with a teasing chuckle, descending eagerly towards your already soaked center.

He expertly widens the gap between your legs, creating a perfect haven for himself before delving into your pussy with fervent devotion.

With a tantalizing finesse, he starts with a subtle stroke of his tongue along your folds, gradually ascending to the apex of your clit, eliciting a fervent moan that echoes in the room.

As waves of pleasure cascade through you, your fingers instinctively entwine in his tousled locks, gently pulling as he skillfully devotes his attention to the exquisite dance of his tongue and lips on your pulsating core.

Gasping for breath, your anticipation mounts, every nerve tingling with pleasure, as Yoongi's rhythmic strokes across your intimate folds propel you toward a climax, your toes curling in ecstasy.

Pausing momentarily, he murmurs in appreciation, “You taste even better than you smell, Kitten,” his words sending a shiver down your spine.

You're on the verge of asking him about the nickname ‘Kitten,’ but his tongue explores your folds, leaving you breathless and unable to form words.

Your question dissolves in the heat of the moment, the building climax taking center stage as you lose yourself in the pursuit of pleasure.

Lost in the waves of ecstasy, you can't resist the urge to surrender, closing your eyes as Yoongi works his magic with undeniable expertise.

“No, no, no. Look at yourself in the mirror, Kitten.”

“Why do—” before you can finish your question, it fades away on your tongue as Yoongi plunges back into pleasuring your core with a renewed intensity, leaving your thoughts swallowed by the whirlwind of sensations.

As you glance at the mirror, you catch a glimpse of your own blissful expression, framed by Yoongi's tousled black hair nestled between your thighs. The sight is nothing short of breathtaking, a sight of pleasure that leaves you utterly captivated.

The provocative scene unfolding in the mirror intensifies your arousal, your breath hitching in tandem with the escalating desire pulsating through your veins.

“Yoongi, I’m—” your plea catches in your throat as Yoongi skillfully responds, his hand finding your pulsating clit, heightening the pleasure while he continues to ravish you with his insatiable tongue.

His fingers dance in rhythmic circles over your throbbing clit, coaxing the tension from your core. As the knot unravels, a wave of blissful release washes over you, leaving you breathless and trembling in its wake.

Ecstasy courses through your veins, your toes curling, muscles tightening, and in that moment, an unexpected surge of pleasure hits you like a sneeze that never comes. You release a symphony of moans, surrendering to the intense climax that Yoongi skillfully orchestrates with his talented tongue.

He continues to suck, savoring every drop of your essence, an insatiable thirst in his eyes matching the fervor of the intimate dance between your bodies.

As the intensity peaks, you gently tap his shoulder, signaling him to withdraw. He complies with a sensual slurp, leaving you breathless and tingling with the echoes of pleasure.

A mischievous grin stretches across his face as he licks his lips, “You're incredible, Kitten.”

You arch an eyebrow, curiosity coloring your tone, “Why do you keep calling me ‘Kitten’? You’re Kitten.”

He erupts in laughter, a symphony that resonates through the room, his chest rising and falling with the melody of mirth, and in that moment, he's a captivating masterpiece.

“Do I really look like a Kitten to you?” he inquires, a playful glint in his eyes as he gently nudges you back onto the bed.

Your words stumble as you search for a response, “Not really,” you admit, offering him a small yet tender smile.

“But you look cute and sweet, like a good Kitten,” he murmurs, his hands exploring the curves of your breasts.

A low moan escapes your lips as he teases your nipples with a playful twist, igniting a fresh surge of desire that pools in the growing heat between your thighs.

As you ache for the feel of his throbbing length, you attempt to grab hold of him, but like a fleeting mirage, he skillfully eludes your touch, leaving you yearning for the intimate connection that inches away with each evasive movement.

“Nah. I just want to fuck you silly,” he rasps, eyes tracing every bead of sweat on your flushed skin, reveling in the primal rhythm of your hurried breaths.

“If you want to, that is?” he teases, his voice a sultry whisper, as he takes control, guiding himself between your legs with a confident hand that promises a morning full of pleasure.

As you feel the weight of his gaze, you gulp, wondering how, in that heated moment, he could question what you crave. It's undeniable – you want him, and the intensity of your desire hangs in the air between you, palpable and unspoken.

Your breath catches as you respond, the words tumbling from your lips in a heated rush, “Fuck, yes, Yoongi. I want you inside me, now,” the urgency in your voice betraying the intensity of your desire.

A low, rumbling chuckle escapes him, the sound sending a shiver down your spine as he replies, “Please” with a teasing glint in his eyes.

“‘Please’ what?”

“Say ‘please’.”

You huff, incredulous at his audacity. The desire in his eyes is undeniable, and he seems to enjoy the game. Part of you rebels, tempted to be a brat just to irk him, but the need for his touch overrides any resistance. You crave his intimacy, aching for his dick despite the defiance lingering in the air.

“Fuck this,” you grumble, frustration evident in your voice. In that fleeting moment, you catch a glimpse of Yoongi pulling back, as if reconsidering his stance.

“Please! Don’t leave,” you plead desperately, your sincerity laid bare. The smirk on his face deepens, as if savoring the intensity of your plea.

“Please fuck me, Yoongi.”

His satisfaction evident, he rewards you with a swift kiss before aligning himself with your eager entrance, anticipation humming in the air.

Your arousal has reached a point where there's no discomfort, just a perfect fit as he slides into you, your wetness welcoming and enveloping him seamlessly.

He hisses as he eases into your warm, tight walls, and you can feel him doing his best to restrain himself.

You release a breathy huff as he fully penetrates, his balls gently meeting the warmth of your folds.

He lets out a guttural groan as he steadies himself, withdrawing only to plunge back in with an intensity that sends shivers through your body.

In this intimate position, with him above you, every nuance of his pleasure is on full display—the way his nose scrunches in delight, his soft lips occasionally nibbling the bottom one in sheer ecstasy.

Between each thrust, he can't help but express his amazement, his voice low and husky, “Damn. You're so tight.”

You know. It’s been awhile. 

As he moves within you with an increased rhythm, his hands find your breasts, skillfully massaging them in sync with his fervent thrusts, creating a symphony of pleasure that courses through your entire body.

Ecstasy courses through you, and in the midst of your fervent pleasure, you can't help but release a breathless exclamation, “Fuck, Yoongi!”

Every skillful thrust seems to find its mark, synchronized with the enticing dance of his fingers on your hardened nipples. Pleasure envelops you, clouding your thoughts in a haze of ecstasy.

Your pleasure intensifies as Yoongi skillfully pinches your nipples, eliciting a symphony of moans that harmonize with the rhythmic dance of his passionate thrusts.

Sensations ripple through you, and the desire to reciprocate Yoongi's pleasure builds within you. You yearn to give him the same ecstasy he's generously bestowed upon you.

Amidst the rhythmic cadence of Yoongi's thrusts, a bold request escapes your lips. Your gaze, laced with desire, meets his, and with a subtle plea in your eyes, you softly murmur, “Yoongi—, I want to ride you. Please.”

With a devilish grin, Yoongi withdraws from your embrace, reclining on the bed, his eyes ablaze with anticipation.

His voice, laced with desire, sends shivers down your spine as he commands, “Then you're gonna watch in the mirrors as you fuck yourself on my dick,” reclining with his head angled towards the mirrors.

Mounting him, you position yourself strategically, both of you reflected in the mirror—a tantalizing image of entangled limbs, the intensity of the moment etched in your heaving, sweat-glistened bodies.

Grasping his throbbing dick, he hisses in anticipation as you deftly align your eager entrance with his cock.

With a fluid motion, you descend onto his rigid cock, your velvet walls enveloping him in a tight, intoxicating embrace.

From below, Yoongi savors the view, his gaze lingering on the contours of your face, as if committing every detail to memory.

You guide the rhythm, your hands finding stability on his sculpted chest, setting the pace as you ride him with a mix of determination and desire.

Your movements cascade, a slow dance that gradually builds momentum, each rise and fall carrying a symphony of pleasure and anticipation.

As you gaze upon your reflection, the flush of arousal paints your cheeks, your disheveled hair framing your face like an unruly halo, and your breasts dance in perfect harmony with the rhythm of your passionate movements.

The person in the mirror seems like a stranger, a sensual revelation you never knew existed within you. The mirrors, always present but never before utilized for sex, now reflect a version of yourself that’s both thrilling and new.

Heat courses through your veins, an intoxicating blend of arousal and empowerment, as you observe your own uninhibited reflection. With newfound vigor, you escalate the rhythm, riding Yoongi more vigorously. His appreciative groans and tender gaze mirror the intensity of the moment.

Unbridled desire takes over as your hands instinctively find their way to Yoongi's neck. Without a conscious thought, your fingers glide over the warmth of his skin, gently encircling his throat.

An electrifying jolt courses through you as you sense Yoongi's involuntary twitch within you, and you catch the ragged rhythm of his breath.

Panic courses through you, and you hastily retract your hands, realizing with a shock that you had unintentionally exerted pressure on Yoongi's throat. “Oh my God! I'm so sorry!” you blurt out, your apology a mix of concern and embarrassment.

“It's fine, Kitten. I like it,” he reassures you with a devilish grin, seizing your hands and guiding them back around his neck, his eyes sparking with a hint of mischief.

You shoot him a concerned glance, pausing your movements to ensure he's okay. Once he reassures you with a nod, signaling his approval, you dive back into the rhythm you had before.

With a newfound boldness, you tighten your grip around his throat, drawing out another satisfying twitch from him. His reaction sends a surge of pleasure through you as he hits that sweet spot, causing a kaleidoscope of sensations that make you see stars.

Your unrestrained moans fill the room, a symphony of desire that intertwines with the rhythmic sounds of your bodies colliding. The sight of Yoongi unraveling beneath your touch fuels a primal arousal, and you revel in the raw passion that courses through every fiber of your being.

“Fuck!” you pant.

“I’m gonna come,” you confess, the words escaping on a ragged breath, as you impale yourself on his dick. You’re body trembling as you hold the moment, savoring the anticipation before the inevitable plunge into ecstasy.

With a tender touch, you withdraw your hands from his throat, leaning down to kiss him. Your lips meet his in a dance of passion, tracing a path from his mouth to the very spots your fingers had claimed on his neck moments ago.

His low, guttural groan harmonizes with the rhythm as you ascend, reclaiming your perch on him. The dance begins anew, your body moving with purpose, riding the waves of pleasure set in motion by each calculated bounce on his throbbing length.

Yoongi's hands eagerly envelop your breasts, his fingers dancing with the rhythm of your fervent movements. With each descent onto him, you feel a surge of pleasure building, the shared pursuit of ecstasy driving you both towards the brink of blissful release.

His fingers deftly find your sensitive nipples, sending a jolt of pleasure through your body. The sensation is so intense that a fractured, high-pitched man escapes your lips, your back arching involuntarily in the exquisite dance of pleasure and pain.

As your walls instinctively clench around his pulsating dick, you witness the pleasure etched across his face, a delightful scrunching of his features that mirrors the ecstasy coursing through both of you.

“Yoongi, I’m com—,” you gasp, a desperate plea laced in your voice. Your words are unnecessary; the vice-like grip of your walls and the erratic cadence of your breath already convey the impending release that hangs thick in the air.

“Come all over my dick,” he smirks through a groan, a wicked gleam in his eyes. “Watch yourself fall apart in the mirror.”

How can this man ignite such an intense flame within you? The knot in your stomach tightens once more, and as you surrender to it, a primal, drawn-out moan escapes your lips, echoing the depths of your desire.

With unyielding eyes, you lock onto your own reflection in the mirror as ecstasy courses through you, marking the moment you climax on his d*ck. Your rhythmic bouncing falters, but Yoongi, sensing your need, seizes your hips and propels the pace, driving you deeper into the intoxicating whirlwind of pleasure.

Your mouth hangs open, breaths rapid and erratic, akin to the aftermath of a sprint, while every inch of your body throbs with the residual heat of a fervent blaze.

“So beautiful—FUCK!” he moans, powering into you with an astonishing velocity, sending shivers down your spine.

His hold on your hips tightens, your hands finding refuge on his sculpted chest for support. Your body teeters on the edge of weightlessness and grounding, as if you'd unravel if Yoongi's firm grasp on your hips faltered.

Despite the fatigue washing over you, a surge of determination courses through your veins. Summoning the last reserves of your strength, you entwine your fingers around his neck once more. You sense the impending release in Yoongi's every movement, and you're determined to be the catalyst that propels him over the edge.

The moment your grip tightens around his throat, a powerful surge reverberates through his dick within you, sending intoxicating waves of pleasure coursing through your body. It's an electrifying sensation, making every touch between you more intense and satisfying.

With an intense squeeze, you lock eyes with Yoongi, a plea in your gaze. “Fill me up, Yoongi.”

In a primal release, he surrenders to the moment, thrusting into you with an erratic rhythm, coating your walls with the warmth of his climax.

“Ahh,” he pants, the rush of air filling his lungs as you release your grip on his neck, both of you engulfed in the aftermath of shared release.

You watch him in amazement as his fervent thrusts subside, and he eases into the embrace of your bed, a portrait of passion painted across his beautiful face.

As he gradually softens within you, you take the initiative to lift yourself off him, both of your essences clinging to your skin, a residue of your shared passion that you welcome without reservation.

As you recline beside him, a soft chuckle escapes your lips, a shared breathlessness enveloping both of you. The air in the room is charged with the echo of passion, leaving a tangible energy that binds your entangled forms together.

Breathless and sporting a satisfied grin, he turns to you, his eyes filled with a post-passion glow. “Fuck that was incredible,”' he murmurs, capturing the shared intensity of the moment in the curve of his smile.

An undeniable contentment colors your voice as you respond, “Yeah,” savoring the echoes of pleasure that linger in the air.

Suddenly, a spark of realization ignites within you, propelling you to move with swift purpose. You crawl back on top of him, a burst of energy that startles him, like a surprise in the midst of shared afterglow.

“Why did you leave me?” you inquire, a tinge of accusation laced with the bitter notes in your voice. “Without a word or a farewell. Why did you disappear without a trace?”

His eyes widen momentarily before giving way to an expression of anguish and sadness. A tug at your heart intensifies, as his face alone tells a story you fear can't be good.

He begins with a heavy admission, meeting your eyes with earnest sincerity, “My brother died.”

Your words stumble out in a rush, “Oh, God! I'm so sorry!” The unexpected revelation leaves you fumbling for the right response.

His words flow, carrying a weight of anger and grief, “It's alright. ButI felt so much anger and grief, you know?” he explains, “so much so that I couldn't shapeshift and was stuck in my cat form.”

You exhale a soft ‘aha’ at his words, and the realization washes over you— he was grappling with his own demons, just as you were.

“When I'm consumed by intense emotions, I lose control of my ability to shapeshift, and, and—” You witness a tearful welling in his eyes, prompting you to gently cup his cheeks, reassuring him that it's okay.

“I just wanted to be alone and I didn’t want to burden you…” A few tears spill from his eyes, and you tenderly catch them with your gentle fingers.

You lean in, pressing a soft kiss to his cheek, finding solace in the curve of his neck, where his soft minty scent envelops you like a comforting embrace.

“I am so fucking sorry you had to endure that. I understand, truly. But you would never be a burden to me,” you express, gazing into his eyes with a tenderness that echoes your sincerity.

“I want to be there for you,” you declare, your own tears mirroring the empathy in your eyes.

“Ah, shit. I didn’t mean to cry. But, you know, I understand,” you say, your words accompanied by a wry smile as tears trickle down your face and onto Yoongi’s cheeks.

“I’m sorry, Kitten. I know. I’m sorry I wasn’t there for you.” 

He seizes your cheeks, tugging you into a tender and unhurried kiss. Time loses its grip, and you're oblivious to the remnants of his seed mingling with your essence, creating a slippery trail between your pussy and his still-slick pelvis.

Lost in the rhythm of your kisses with Yoongi, you surrender to the moment, where every touch feels like a missing puzzle piece seamlessly falling into place.

The two cups of coffee are long forgotten.

Authors note (3): Thank you so very much if you have made it this far 😭 I know this story is a lot – I’ve been dealing with a lot of different stuff for many years, and some of it just got to be too much a few weeks ago, and this story popped into my head. It was therapeutic to write. I don’t know if people will like it or not, but in the end, that’s not what it’s about. It will just exist here.

If you struggle with any of these subjects or emotions, you’re always welcome in my inbox – I’m not a trained psychologist or anything, though! But sometimes it is better to voice your feelings, than struggling in silence. Everybody’s welcome 🫂

I hope you’re doing well. Thank you for you 💜

[galene-gothic]

𝖳𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗂𝗌 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝖼𝗅𝗈𝗌𝗎𝗋𝖾, 𝗒𝗈𝗎'𝗋𝖾 𝖿𝗋𝖾𝖾 𝗇𝗈𝗐

୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅* ‧₊ I hope this reading found you in good health, every reblog is appreciated and thank you for everything :) ˖♡ ˎˊ˗ ꒰ 🐇 ꒱

˗ˏˋ༻ʚ♡︎ɞ༺ˎˊ˗             PAID SERVICES

⸼ ۫ ︎︎⊹ ! 🪡︎ Pile 1 ꒱

"Send my love to your new lover, treat her better. We've gotta let go of all of our ghosts. We both know we ain't kids no more."

"I saw the signs and I ignored it, rose-coloured glasses all distorted. Set fire to my purpose and I let it burn. You got off on hurting when it wasn't yours. We'd always go into it blindly, I needed to lose you to find me. This dancing was killing me softly. I needed to hate you to love me."

Someone/many different people who you were strongly committed to you seem to have done you dirty. At that time, you were the greenest green flag, you were dependable and wanted to come off as someone like that as well. You were grounded, you were humble and in your 'treat people well' era. You felt like everything was fine until it wasn't anymore. People around you started acting shady, you picked up on the negative vibes or out of the blue, you found out about something that someone close to you did or said behind your back. For some of you, there seems to have been a boy or man involved, it could not be connected to the first scenario at all but for most of you, there seems to be an energy of people leaving one after another, something like your friends backstab you then you find out about your boyfriend cheating and even your guy friend chooses to say hurtful things just for the purpose of tearing you down. If the boy situation does resonate, you realised that they were with you for their own selfish reasons. You felt like they manipulated you for their own personal gain. This guy could've kept you a secret from others. For a while, you continued lying to yourself about this situation due to the affection or attachment that you felt towards them. You were trying your best to believe that something when it was just not the truth. Regardless of which one of the scenarios resonate (for many of you, all of these will resonate), you felt betrayed and to be honest, you were in fact betrayed. When this event happened, you felt the need to be realistic and practical, you knew that you deserved something mutual but maybe due to love, it took a while for you to walk away. Walking away seemed to be something that you did only after you were completely drained out. You were still bonding with other people, maybe you were exposed to others after this event happened so you had no choice. Even though, you seemed to be having good platonic relationships, they felt shallow to you or they made you happy but you weren't able to talk about you deepest emotions to anyone. You were breaking down on the inside but due to your public or social image, no one seemed to see it. It was a time for you to receive healing, you weren't doing well emotionally. A lot of chaotic events happened in your life one after the other but at that point, you were just resting. These people and situations broke you down to the point, you lost your self esteem.

You needed support and help at that time but you were not getting it, I feel like you were not even trying to talk to anyone about your emotions to be honest. It was difficult for you to think clearly. Your judgement was very blurry. Regardless of how painful it must've felt, if you look back, you'll notice that you've released so many negative thoughts, habits, feelings and just way of being. Negative feelings coming up, everything falling apart was just for things to get better. I'm getting that these were negative cycles and connections disguised as positive ones so you didn't understand how you didn't see it earlier. You might have noticed red flags but because they acted alright after that, you didn't think that it was important to walk away. You were confused about a lot of things. You were stuck in that toxic cycle for so long and realised just how much control it had over you. You felt the need to take responsibility for things that weren't even your fault. In the thick of healing, you thought that you deserved all the bad things that they were doing and saying to you. You thought that these people genuinely had good intentions towards you and were 'your people'. I'm getting multiple people here but there's a chance that it was either just your friends or your love interest. Even if it wasn't a love interest, a guy could've been involved. You sometimes wonder how you didn't notice the huge red flags earlier and were naive enough to believe that those people had loving intentions for you. You could've been really nice to most if not all of these people so you were just like, "why? I was nothing but nice to them". There seems to have been some (a lot tbh) confusion in such aspects. This is confusing but I'm getting best friends who turned against you after a mistake you made but you found out that they didn't like you all along or if a guy was the main problem here, it could be a best friend or a boyfriend/situationship who broke you down until you had to leave them. For most of you, it is both. The closure is that this person thought that they had a certain control over you so when they realised that that was not the case, they got over dominating. In the case of friends, they found a reason to finally bully you so they took it. These people were all really dishonest and are the kind of people who are not willing to change their ways. They were angry at you but it was not because of what you did, for the guy it was because they had frustrations in their own life and for the friends, it was because they 'thought' that you thought that you were better than them.

There was a lot of chaos, what they forgot is that you're a very strong character, you might have bended to meet their needs and match their personalities but it didn't mean that you lost your strength as a person. You adored them so you acted softer, they took it as a weakness. They were all being really selfish. It makes a lot of sense if it was a group of people, they were abusing their power to take advantage of you. For some of you, when you weren't letting them take advantage of you, they started acting all passive-aggressive, outright aggressive or angry. You were giving too much without expecting much, please remember that it's important to have standards. I think that you've learnt your lesson now though. You probably had spiteful arguments and they were not thinking before speaking. It's not alright, they disrespected you. Don't forget the things that they said to you, forgive them but don't let them anywhere near you, though it's your own decision. They made reckless mistakes in the heat of the moment not caring about your emotions at all. They're all people who cannot hold themselves accountable, they did not have your best interests at heart. The things that they said and did were to simply tear you down, it barely had anything to do with the mistakes you made but more about things that were in they own heads. "You think that you're the center everywhere" or "you're all that", things that are just their own insecurities. They were in fact very selfish, I'll give you an example, supposing you broke the girl code, the whole group turned against you but because you broke the girl code but because they all had their own personal grudges against you. Move on, they're not worth it. God/universe/whoever you believe in had to take you away from them because you were just better than them. I don't think that anyone is better than anyone but you were mature in many more aspects as opposed to them. You were trying to make things right and solve the matter at hand but they were just pushing their insecurities and grudges onto you. Your life has definitely gotten better in atleast two ways after these people left your life. Your closure = the disrespect.

⸼ ۫ ︎︎⊹ ! 🪡︎ Pile 2 ꒱

"Take my hand and hold on, tell me everything that you need to say. Cause I know how it feels to be someone, feels to be someone who loses their way."

"And I got a boyfriend, he's older than us, he's in the club doing I don't know what, you're so cool, it makes me hate you so much."

A crush that got nowhere? A 'friend' who's not just a friend? If someone came into your mind, this is your pile. This is tricky though, some of you could have come here thinking about a situationship or relationship break up that was really messy, you met someone after that though, didn't you? The person who you were in a situationship or relationship didn't care about you enough, they were unintentionally using you but it wasn't entirely 'unintentional', they knew that it could hurt you, you gave a lot to this person/situation so you were scorned but that's the happy ending, if you stuck around longer, things would've been worse. Your happy ending in this situation is to tap into your potential, make the most out of it, become more confident and to start a new cycle. For the ones, who met someone else after this situationship/relationship, you were in a state of anguish when you met this person. The situationship/relationship had left you completely drained out. I'll describe the person that you met after that in order to help you confirm. This person has a mind of their own, they are quite different from most people that you've met. They seem so free to you. They helped you change direction and made you feel more confident. They also seem to be a very confident person. They gifted you with a new perspective. The entire situation was very thrilling to you. You had a lot of fun with them and even they seemed to have fun with you. There were times when they seemed really enthusiastic around you. They're also someone who stands strong and has a lot of courage according to you. They're just so different (in the best way) according to you. You are confused because they were really generous with you. You might have gotten a little bit vulnerable around them too. There seems to be a level of connectivity (almost telepathic) between the both of you. They were quite receptive and talkative with you, the both of you were to a certain extent.

That was the dynamic so you don't understand how and why everything just ended. You feel like the both of you were quite observant when it comes to other. I feel like you're like "I just don't get it", I'm getting a little bit of disappointment. You wonder if you read in between the lines for things that don't even exist. You thought that they were curious about you too. Maybe also because of the past relationship/situationship, you started become a bit more rational and this just added onto that. You had really interesting conversations and felt connected to them, you felt a chemistry and connection. You felt like you had to kind of move away from your fairytale romance. 'Fairytale romance' that's how you looked at it. They did come into your life at a time like that so I get it. The ending between the both of you makes you question everything. The closure here is that you're still single, you're free to do whatever you desire. They came into your life as a catalyst of growth, to help you start a new journey. Their intentions towards you were not bad, they gave you a lot of hope for the future, they made you happy. They helped you prepare for a new journey, for most of you, you won't ever end up with this person but regardless of whether you do or not, you'll be fine. They reminded you of the life and love that you desire and deserve. They made it easier for you to let go of your former situationship/relationship. Even this situation, you should let it go. You should accept everything that has happened, forgive them if you do have any resentment against them and focus solely on yourself. You helped them release negative thoughts, feelings and patterns. Their deepest fears resurfaced when they met you and even they themself were healing. Something being fleeting or temporary does not make it insignificant, take care loves. If it wasn't for them, there's a high likelihood of you going back to past toxic people.

⸼ ۫ ︎︎⊹ ! 🪡︎ Pile 3 ꒱

"Why would you speak to me that way? Especially when I always said that I haven't got the words for you. All your diction dripping with disdain, I always tell the truth."

"I've never known someone like you, tangled in love, stuck by you, from the glue. Don't forget to kiss me or else you'll have to kiss me. I guess I'm forever stuck by the glue, oh and you?"

"Never thought I'd find you but you're here, and so I love you. I'm not lying when I say I've been stuck by the glue onto you."

Who cheated on you? If it was not cheating, it was still something that caused you to feel betrayed. Majority of you have mommy issues, some of you are here with her on your mind while the rest of you are here thinking about someone who is like your mother if you carefully think about it. You got manipulated. This person was out of control with their actions and words when it came to you. They were mean too. You really neglected yourself because of this person. They left you worrying quite a lot. This is giving me similar vibes to narcissistic abuse. You gave too much of yourself to this person :(. You pretty much treated this person like your family oh my god. You were clinging onto them. You were not willing to walk away and move on from this person until things got too much to bear, this person was stripped away from your life not gonna lie. With this person, you had really low self esteem. There were often times when you had to watch what you said just so you don't end up triggering this person because they used to say things to tear you down. They were not willing to communicate and they acted like you were trying to pick up fights. They made you feel a lot of guilt when it wasn't even your fault. You had to fake happiness with that person because everything was always about them, they might have underestimated you or belittled your emotions but you noticed it only after you left the situation and realised that they never cared about you. You started becoming really confident after you let go of them and it caused you a to be a little bit confused because of it. You realised that all of you needed was a leap of faith. They were definitely holding your potential down. You started feeling liberated and free, a very new and sort of uncomfortable feeling for you. They made you feel really humiliated in one way or another.

They were so conceited and honestly a piece of shit, you were just like "I was such a fool, how did I not see it earlier?" Plus the thing is that you were aware of such aspects existing within them, you just didn't know that they were so extreme. You also didn't understand how they could do that to you when you had nothing but pure intentions towards them. Your closure is that they're actually high drama. You were taking too many of their demands and being pressured when they didn't deserve any of it. I don't like to say things like this but you were too good for them, no matter how great they'd become or what they would do, they will never amount to you. Also, no matter how much harder you would've loved them, it wouldn't make them treat you better, I'm glad that you walked away. If you're having second thoughts about it, remember the disrespect, don't forget how much they hurt you. They're just a selfish piece of shit who never deserved you. Also, you were never compatible, you had interesting conversations because you're an interesting person, you had fun with them because you were a fun person, the connection lasted as long as it did only because of your tolerance. Your closure is that you know the right answer from within was to walk away. You were supposed to start seeing things from a different and clearer perspective. You were supposed to learn your boundaries now. It was important for you to find new purposes or realign with your purpose that you might have abandoned for other people. Your direction is supposed to be different from this person's and set there. You're supposed to be the one that got away and stayed away. You felt like you were stuck by a glue onto them because of the attachment that you had with them. It might have been difficult for you to leave this person earlier due to guilt, attachment or just loneliness, you might have been worried about them though.

[oceanlipgloss]

27.1.2024

—nsfw + chapter 5 spoilers (+ a dash of dark humour)

*Spongebob narrator voice* ah, Bikini Bottom Leviathan's H-scene. One I've been looking forward to, excitedly so. And since this chapter had a fair slice of tragedy, it was sealed with an H-scene as a treat. That's not going to heal the angsty feelings, but into it I shall dive. Look, it rhymes lots of aquatic vocabulary

⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ´ˎ˗

intro: the scene's intro screen shows that Leviathan still has his shirt on. And you know what? WHAT A TURN-ON, THAT'S WHAT

update I: Hades Studios present 'The Sick Chicken' no but I like him SO MUCH. His attitude is a breath of fresh air pun intended but the reasons that played a role in forming it are so sad

update II: MWAHAHAHA GO HARDER ON HER

update III: *clapping like a madwoman* BRAVO, BRAVO! That's really hot of him, you know. Everything about this is sending me to heaven except for the fact that someone like me obviously can't so much as set a toe on the grounds of Paradise because it doesn't exist but I mean, COME. ON. The way he let his hand move from her neck to her chin? 'Glowering at you as though he would burn the mark off with his gaze alone'? HOLY FUCKKKK <3

update IV: GOD NO THIS IS TOO HOT GOD WOOHOOOOOO

update V: man oh man he's so MMMM

update VI: RAAAAAA

update VII: he speaks to me on a spiritual level trying not to inject angst into this by bringing up what caused him to feel this way So, Leviathan. You, me, parking lot, 'who hates people more' contest, 5PM. I'm not hanging anyone tho maybe actually, scratch that. We're hanging horrible people together like we're Harley Quinn and the Joker, baby

update VIII: pfff 'how fair of you' His reaction, though? So confident. So fucking sexy. Yours truly is already a dead girl, but at the moment she's dying, dying, dying beyond death And wdym 'he smirked, but even then he was so beautiful yada yada' like dude, he's more beautiful BECAUSE he's smirking, BECAUSE of his arrogant spite

update IX: I'm really glad she considered his feelings and didn't immediately agree to have sex with him. Truth be told, this came as quite the pleasant surprise, because while she does have moments in which she's considerate, I don't view this particular MC as someone who's truly capable of being sensitive to others that much. Sure, she didn't directly agree to sleep with Belial when he offered because she thought he was still unwell, but here I honestly still expected her to just jump right in and not think twice about Leviathan's feelings, so I was very happy when she said this instead; she didn't focus on the fact that he dislikes her, but rather on not risking hurting him should he not want to do this with her. He's definitely attracted to you though, MC. He's just not on good terms with the concept of expressing his feelings relatable as fuck I know how this may have sounded harsh or mean of me—and it's not meant to be offend anyone—but the truth is that this MC wasn't created with 'gentle and sweet' in mind; the way her brain is hardwired to tirelessly daydream about sexual things has lead her to be insensitive at times (with painfully questionable intelligence to top it off, sorry) as seen in certain instances.

update X: kinda cute. Juuuust a little bit. ...that straightforwardness is edible

update XI: he's brutally honest and his gestures are subtle, and that makes them so sensual. In other words, THIS TICKLES MY FANCY

update XII: he says something like this with an expression like that. YEEEES he looks so sweetly smug too godddd Also: lol @ 'you MAY turn me on' = [access permitted]

update XIII: my point exactly

update XIV: his attitude is so good. SO good. He's domineering and deliberately giving her a hard time lol sufferrrr, MC on a sadder note, he also won't talk about himself because it's really hard for him to give his trust after what happened to him...

update XV: I can stand behind that. I LIKE it. Vibe with it, agree with it. I REALLY DOOO

update XVI: he...really just asked her to hit and choke him, didn't he? [MASOCHISTIC TARGET LOCATED] sometimes physical pain feels nice, Leviathan, I getchu, but being hit and strangled isn't a brand of pain I would, um, choose for myself. Whatever makes u hard happy tho, ig. Rock on, king

update XVII: the jealousyyyyy <3

update XVIII: 'Leviathan thought he was going crazy' You know who's also going to go crazy reading this? ME. My God, this many screenshots and the railing hasn't started yet

update XIX: to be honest, I'm not fond of choking, slapping, spanking, and the like, so I'm most likely not going to like what's coming next much lol but let's move on, shall we now?

update XX: damn, he's provoking her so hard to make her beat the fuck out of him, and lo and behold, he's getting what he wants. She might as well just tear his soul out at this rate or send him to his maker but where the hell is God? jk jk this chapter made it clear that Leviathan can take a shit ton of hits trauma and stay alive good god it's the blackness of my soul my dark humour speaking forgive me omfg it's not me I swear I s—I SAID WHAT I SAID This part is kinda funny so far, what with how MC has gone batshit insane on him. That being said, it's really nice how she cares about Minhyeok so much that it's the foundation of her rage and the reason Satan's wrath burns in her, urging her to harm Leviathan in a frenzy after he said ruthless things about Minhyeok. Meanwhile, Leviathan is so busy trying to get turned on that he's neither jealous nor envious of that lmao

update XXI: this is going to sound weird coming from me when I'm somewhat of a sadist who likes dark themes, loves horror and gore, and enjoys seeing torture in certain scenarios do I sound like the freak I am yet? and when I just made such a fucked up joke with good intentions too, but...MC hurting Leviathan over and over like this summons a feeling of discomfort and remorse in my heart even if I completely put away my dislike for consensual violence in sexual acts. Leviathan's past and the possible psychological implications behind his fondness of undergoing physical harm make this part somewhat painful to read, because perhaps his arousal from being hurt has something to do with what he went through as a child (i.e. it may be a coping mechanism of a sort). When I think of it that way, coupled with the horrific aspects of his childhood—the pain being inflicted on him messes with my emotions. Then again, this could just be his personal preference and not have deeper meanings. Either way, the game holds true to its themes and maintains excellent dark perspectives, and as I always say, I'll never dislike that. In fact, PB better keep these founding concepts intact.

update XXII: oh god DON'T STOMP HIS PP NOT THE PP STAY AWAY FROM PP HE NEEDS IT YOU NEED IT

update XXIII: no but EVERYTHING ABOUT THIS MOSTLY THE DRIPPING HORNS (AS ALWAYS) AND HIM UNBUCKLING HIS OWN PANTS (AS SHE WATCHES TOO LORD MY KINK'S DEVOURING THIS) AND THE PRE AND— GRAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA Why is his horns' liquid not white like the others, though?

update XXIV: THAT EXPRESSION THE CONTRAST WITH HIS NORMAL SELF MC, GIRLLLLLL BITE THAT TONGUE

update XXV: "HOW DARE YOU FEEL PLEASED?!"—MC to Leviathan of Hades, 2024 She's going to choke him to death rip him apart piece after piece, limb by limb, shred upon shred Ronové would back her up nicely oh god it's the dark humour again excuse me But it's so damn sexy how he's the one controlling her, yet she's the one wrecking him

update XXVI: YOOOO I'M GONNA DIE THIS IS SO GOOD THIS IS SO—

update XXVII: PP goes 'fwop'

update XXVIII: he is SUCH a mess YESSSS u should get even messier, Leviathan, you MUST

update XXIX: he insists on making eye contact no matter what. FUCK YES. And the teasing? FUCK YEAHHHHH

update XXX: I LOVE I SAID I LOVE—

update XXXI: so, so hot YAAAAAA

update XXXII: her wrapping her arms around his neck and then both of them just being so dazed out of their minds that the no-more-strangling move is not bothersome anymore...*sigh* pls feed me moreeeeee

update XXXIII: bro 'frantically licked' sent me. MC, slurping on Leviathan's horn like her life depends on it: boy am I thirsty The horns are a blessing, they're everything. And he's so messed up by the lick lick what she's doing that he can't even form a sentence (likely an insult to hide how fucked out of his mind that made him feel)

update XXXIV: THIS JUST FED ME MORE FR FR MY STOMACH HURTSSS HE'S DESPERATE and dang, I didn't know even hearts could reach climax. You learn something new everyday lol nah, I get what they mean So fucking hot how they kept kissing until they couldn't breathe my kind of thing a VERY pleasing display of Leviathan's kink, yes

update XXXV: squelch...squelch...squish squish, slurp slurp, anyone? Guess this writing style wasn't reserved for Tartaros's boys after all :( Bimet and I are fake-crying in the distance

update XXXVI: does he mean the tormenting or the fucking? Because if he's referring to sex, I offer Minhyeok my condolences. MC's never going to fuck you senseless or at all, hon. Sorry, but u should've known better, BFF boy :( I know no mercy

update XXXVII: Leviathan feeling happy because of her reply and him replying with "good. It should stay like that"? So possessiveeee <3 no more images fit Kinda melting over how his envy didn't flare up and anger him like it did in the beginning 'cause the brutality sex softened him for the moment

⋆ ⋆ ⋆ ´ˎ˗

+notes: I was violently wishing for a Leviathan's-clothes-are-still-on-during-sex CG, so when the CG came up and there was no MC on top of him, I was disappointed for a short minute short because then I looked at his face and his godly position spread legs and how he's on the ground like that...mmm lol

It's a change of pace, new. For WHB, at least—since it isn't like previous CGs—but it's heart-throbbing in its own way; seeing cold, pretty Leviathan on the floor like that, meek with his red cheeks...slurp a delicacy.

Ahem, anyways. The CG took me down memory lane somewhat, back to my first otome-playing-days from about 10+ years ago. Whenever the 'Happy Ending' CG was of the male lead alone, I always disliked that because I WANTED TO SEE *THE COUPLE* DOING THINGS, DAMMIT (even though the wildest things players saw characters do in CGs back in those days were mostly kisses lol until they got more daring, that is).

So yeah, while I did feel sort of disappointed when I first saw this CG, while I do prefer CGs like those of previous H-scenes, and while I still wish I could've seen Leviathan and MC in action, at the same time this CG is *chef's kiss* for obvious reasons and also due to how I feel like it suits Leviathan very well in a way. He's built walls about his heart and boundaries around himself, so it's as though the game won't let players see him like they did the men before him (in the main story), if that makes sense. I'm also hoping his shirt stayed on during sex

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edit: I just inspected opened the CG in the album for a, um, better view and...MC is grabbing Leviathan's PP? Yeeeeeeaaaaaaaah that's so YESSSS RAAAAAA

[janus-cadet]

Tarot Project - N°37

Time for the first drawing of the year. Last of 2023was the 12th Doctor; now, it's time for the 15th!

Here is he, as the Ace of Cups!

(I already love him, so much. That man slays and has such a delightful energy.)

Some mandatory explanations under the cut, for the Brave One. And all the other Doctor Who cards!

Difficult to find a card for a Doctor we only saw in two episodes. I went with the vibes he was giving, and the promise that seems to be made through him.

The Ace of cups, upright, is THE card for Divine love and compassion. You are a vessel for it. You receive love, you give love, you ARE love. Your heart(s) overflows. It's time for you to open your heart and experience the rich flow of emotion available to you right now, yes, you, fresh out of therapy. You are more receptive to loving connections, and hold a deep compassion for other living beings (that are not a King Goblin ; this one can get Hot Fuzzed.) The card is an invitation, perhaps even to travel the stars with a certain someone. Will you take it? Will you run with it? The Ace of cups carries the potential for spiritual and emotional fulfilment- but only if you embrace it with an open heart. Let's just hope The Tooth is not going to come and screw it for you, again. The card shows that at this point in your life, you are happy with who you are, and happily express this part of yourself to others.

It's also the card for a new relationship, like a friendship with that lovely unlucky girl who seemed to think it would be a great idea to grabe a ladder in the sky. It is exciting, and you are glad to meet someone who seem to have so much in common with you. Give yourself permission to open up, and the enthusiasm you two generate will get you fired up about yourself and life. Finally, the upright Ace of Cups has a generous, compassionate side. See this as a time of giving, and make the most of any oppotunities to help others. You are the Doctor, after all. You have the power to share your inner radiance and positive energy, bringing great happiness to those around you.

Reversed, the Ace of Cups is THE self-love card! Because before you can send your love to the world, send love to yourself (to that very sad sad sock-less yourself who's refusing to take a time to heal), and concentrate to find happiness and balance within yourself. You might be repressing emotions (maybe just, perhaps, who knows, a tad), and feel that you have your reasons for keeping your feeling so close to yourself. You've been through a lot. Learn to forgive yourself, to accept yourself, and give that younger you a hug and a kiss on the forehead. You're going to be okay, and you're going to be magnificent.

And that's all for that card! Have, as a bonus, the rest of the Doctor Who cards. Three Teeth, three Doctors, and one Toymaker. Next card for the fandom would be... well. I planned for 11th, Delgado!Master, and Bill Potts. Who would you guys like to see first?

[lovekawaiidoll]

may this new month bring us healing energy , happiness, blessings , clarity , an overflow of love , a lot of laughter , and spiritual insight 💗 sending good vibes and hugs your way , please accept 🫶🏽☁️🧚🏽‍♀️

[thynisia-pac-readings]

This post is part of a Pick-a-number aesthetic reading. To choose your group, please check this post.

Group 1

Very youthful, very light. Colours are more in the lighter tones, especially in yellow, green, white, purple. You could prefer long hair and flowing garments. There's a sense of not overthinking things, making life simple and staying youthful and happy. Your core aesthetic values community life, compassion for yourself and others, and a simple lifestyle. Most of all, you believe that you are enough and don't need anything else. Your aesthetic core could be cottagecore or anything that fits the description above.

Group 2

Wow. Group 2, you're very driven. Your aesthetic revolves around being successful and determined. Could be businesscore or something similar. Living in success and luxury, but doing so independently. A self-made person. What comes to my mind is this type of woman/man who wants to re-create herself in that process. Your group doesn't want to use the girlboss term though, it feels like you're more serious than that. You have goals, you have ambitions, and you're not letting anyone or anything stand in your way. Actually, you're convincing yourself that nothing and no one can. It's you first. You have this grand image of yourself that you want to be. I'm getting that not even love is in your plans. You could be avoiding any situation as you want to stay in control of your life, and love feels like you'd lose that complete control. Your aesthetic could look like formal/business look with a feminine touch, luxury brands, luxury accessories, a clean look that is simple but shows success and feminity. No matter your hair type, your skin and body type, you do your best to fit those criteria according to yourself.

Such an intense group for an intense person. You're perfect just the way you are. Wishing you the best!

Group 3

As I was shuffling the cards, I kept having the feeling that you are a very interesting group of people. I mean, interesting in that you're unapologetically different compared to others and you might not even be aware of how interesting you are. People find you very charming and funny. You give me the same vibes as the girl lead (Hong-jo?) in the kdrama Destined With You. Love her. Even the guys can't help but fall under her charms eventually.

Your aesthetic/vibe is like a shrug of shoulder in the face of life. You just roll with it. Go with the flow. It's like "oh did that just happen? Oh well". Yeah if you had a motto, that'd be "Oh well."

Yeah you're very unique, even in how you dress and do your makeup. You don't fit into standards and you don't try to. You do your own thing. Whether that'd be looking like a goth or a mermaid, lol. You ride your own wind/current. You're very positive, uplifting yet strong. Your light is strong, no matter what your aesthetic looks like. Whether you're dressed like a goth or wearing a pair of angel wings, lol.

You could be wearing red a lot, and you pay a lot of attention to balancing colours and garnements. Feels like people may not see the real you through your appearance, but you actually put a lot of efforts in your aesthetic/appearance so that could disappoint you at times. Sometimes, you wish people would see through to you.

The thing is, people will always see a different aspect of yourself and they will find that version of you charming. You're beautifully unique and different so keep rolling with life without worrying about seeking the acknowledgement/validation of others for who you are.

Group 4

As I was shuffling, it felt like there was a lot of heaviness and emotional energy in this group. Not in a bad way, it might just be because you're very sensitive and it's easy for you to get overwhelmed emotionally. I'm sending you all my love. ❤️

This is my sensitive, delicate group. You're always cleansing and healing yourself ... And perhaps your surrounding too, though you might not be aware of your doing.

There might be a few males in this group. I have to say that the males are more delicate and the females exhibit more strength than the norm. It's actually showing that this group is more balanced in their masculine and feminine aspects and they're exhibiting both aspects in a healthy way.

This pile is really giving me the vibe of starseeds or crystal children. Or your higher self is from a very very high density. Very sensitive people who are, by nature, healing their surroundings and being an example for others in their own way. I'm also saying this because I sense a lot of wisdom in this group, due to your many past lives. You might actually remember your past lives. You could also have some gifts, perhaps Clair abilities or being able to do astral travelling. Or any kind of gift that helps you make a difference, even if it's nothing spiritual. I.e. your ability to analyse statistics or do coding, you want to use them in projects that will do good.

In your aesthetic/vibe, you tend to look at things from a higher perspective and aim at improving yourself. You might want to change the world.

You may come across as very nurturing and caring, your high sensitivity is not missed either. That is no matter what you wear. I don't actually see any specific type of aesthetic in this pile. You're all so different. Your aesthetic might be more of a perspective/mindset than a look.

[piratecaptainscaptainpirates]

Can I request a 1k fic where Ed and Stede are just having a really good day, and Ed's thinking about how good a boyfriend Stede is, so he thanks him for never hitting him or treating him badly? And Stede's like wtf why would you thank me for that? Just gentle healing vibes and Ed getting to realize that he deserves love and gentleness.

Thanks for this one! <3

(Wanna see me write something? Send in a prompt and I'll write a 1k word fic if I'm inspired!)

--

Stede was so different.

Yeah, that was true in a lot of ways. Stede was unlike anyone Ed had ever known before. He was so himself, so genuine and earnest and just bursting with so much love. Every day, Ed was grateful to call him his boyfriend.

But, like, even though he was the first guy Ed had ever called his boyfriend, he was different from Ed’s past relationships in so many ways, too.

He was always kind to Ed. He never yelled at him, even when they argued. He encouraged Ed to wear the clothes that made him happy, and he told him he was beautiful. He touched him gently, and Ed knew he would never, ever hit him.

He said he was excited, to get to build a home they could share together.

“This is nice, isn’t it?” The rocking chairs on the front porch were a recent purchase, one that Stede was still preening over as they sat hand-in-hand, just enjoying the spring air and the smell of the wildflowers as they watched the sun go down.

“Yeah,” Ed hummed, letting his eyes slip shut in contentment, squeezing Stede’s fingers so he could enjoy the way Stede’s hand tightened in his in turn. “Thank you.”

He could hear the smile in Stede’s voice. “It was really good, wasn’t it? Did you like that thing I did with my hips?”

“I’m not talking about that, man,” Ed snorted. “Though, like, yeah. I did like that. I think I was coming for a solid minute there. I really like making love with you, Stede.”

It still made him a bit shy, saying things like that. Getting to have it. Making love, not just fucking.

“Aww.” Stede tilted his head, his curls flopping adorably. “I like making love with you, too.”

“But I wasn’t talking about that, just now.” Ed forced his brain back towards the tracks.

“Oh.”

“Yeah.” Ed brought Stede’s hand up to his lips, brushing a kiss over his fingers. “I just wanted to thank you. For being such a good boyfriend.”

“Well, you’re an amazing boyfriend, too,” Stede said, never one to allow a chance to compliment Ed to go untaken. “You’re so sweet, and such a good cuddler, and you’re so pretty, and I love you.”

“I love you, too,” Ed said. “I love how you’re so thoughtful, and kind, and that you never hit me -”

“Hm?” Stede interrupted softly, his smile slipping. “What?”

Ed blinked. “I said thank you? For not hitting me?”

“Sweet pea?” Stede straightened up in his chair, frowning properly, now.

Ed shrank back. He wasn’t sure what he’d done wrong, but he felt suddenly all strange and wrongfooted, and Stede was clearly upset.

“I love you so, so much,” Stede said, giving his hand a squeeze, “but why do you feel like you have to thank me for not hitting you?”

Ed shrugged, looking down at the floorboards. They’d done a great job of patching them up. Looked nice. Way more interesting to look at than the worry and disappointment on Stede’s face, that was for damned sure.

“I’m not mad at you.” Stede must have realized Ed was a bit freaked out, because he dropped his voice to a soft pitch barely above a whisper. “I’m not angry with you at all, and you’re safe, but… I just want you to understand that I wouldn’t do that. Never. There is not a single circumstance, ever, that would make me want to hit you.”

Ed glanced up. Stede’s face looked very serious.

“Alright,” he mumbled. “Thanks.”

“You don’t need to thank me,” Stede sighed. “That’s just… common, basic decency. You don’t need to thank me for not being a monster who walks around hitting his boyfriend.”

“Huh,” Ed said thoughtfully.

It surprised the fuck out of both of them when he burst into tears.

“Ed!” Stede yelped, practically launching onto the floor in front of Ed’s chair so he could pull him into his arms. “Oh, sweet man, it’s okay, you’re okay.”

Ed clutched at the fabric of Stede’s shirt, wailing into his chest, feeling pathetic and small and lost -

“It’s alright,” Stede whispered, rocking him slightly back and forth. “You’re doing great, and I’m not going anywhere. You’re okay.”

“Sorry,” Ed mumbled, pressing his face hard into Stede’s chest, as if that might stop the tears.

“Nothing to apologize for,” Stede said firmly. “But… I can listen, y’know? If you wanna talk about it?”

“I guess I just realized…” Ed sniffled into Stede’s shirt, trying to find the words. “If you can do it, if you can be such a good boyfriend, if you can treat me so well… then everyone else could’ve, too. They just didn’t.”

“I’m so sorry,” Stede whispered, kissing his forehead. “You deserved better.”

“Got you now.” Ed pulled back, wiping at his eyes, and he laughed when Stede kissed his cheeks, over and over. “That counts for something, right?”

What a strange thought. Maybe Stede, the way he treated him, maybe that wasn’t some kind of fluke. Maybe there had never been anything about Ed that caused people to treat him badly. Maybe… it wasn’t his fault that they had.

He brought it up again before bed, as Stede sat in bed with him and braided his hair. It was their favorite way to end their day.

“Maybe,” he said, haltingly, “d’you think that maybe I’m almost a good person?”

“I think you’re an amazing person,” Stede said easily. “And you’re an amazing boyfriend.”

“Maybe it wasn’t my fault,” Ed whispered, just to see how it felt in his mouth.

“It never was.” Stede tied Ed’s hair off, then pulled him back to settle against his chest, kissing his cheek. “It never was your fault.”

Huh.

Stede wasn’t perfect, but Ed knew he was good. And if he said Ed was, too, if he saw some good in Ed, if he said nothing had been Ed’s fault, then…

Maybe there was some truth there.

[raccoonfallsharder]

꧁･:☁︎⋆. cicatrix .⋆☁︎:･꧂ masterlist

18+ only | rocket x f!oc | 8/25+ | wip | word count: pending.

a story about scars. two survivors learn about themselves, each other, hope, and the universe.

a freakish little monster visits the high evolutionary’s bride on her wedding night. an adventure of intergalactic proportions ensues. aka raccoons make plans; the universe laughs.

back to main masterlist

inspired by mary shelley’s frankenstein; or, the modern prometheus. enemies-to-lovers (as per frickin’ usual, only one of these idiots think they’re enemies.) while the beginning of this fic is dark and fast-burn, we move to like… slow-burn with intense growing intimacy & healing almost right away. expect a fair amount of action starting around chapter thirteen. and remember: we always get happy endings here.

WARNINGS - please pay attention to all ao3 warnings/tags for every chapter as there are some dark elements (but we will have a happy ending!). enemies-to-lovers (as per frickin’ usual, only one of these idiots think they’re enemies, and tbh the enemy part is pretty short-lived.) this fic is a longform expansion on wyndham; or, the galactic prometheus (day 31) of °˖✧♡kinktober 2023.

if you’d like to join my fanfiction taglist, please comment or send me a message or ask! ♡

꧁･:☁︎⋆. all chapters collected behind the cut.

RATING KEY some explicit statements or references ✩ abbreviated explicit sequences ❤︎ detailed/prolonged explicit sequences ❤︎❤︎

chapter one. nemotia.⋆☁︎ :･꧂ wyndham’s bride lands on counterearth just in time to prepare for her wedding. an unexpected guest arrives. ✩ warnings: discussion of non-sexual child abuse and grooming. brief mentions of suicidal ideations. animal/pet death. canon-typical violence.

chapter two. ambedo.⋆☁︎ :･꧂ the monster makes his intentions known. wyndham’s bride proposes an addendum. ❤︎❤︎ warnings: arguably one of the darkest chapters. things will get better before the chapter’s end. dubcon (wyndham’s bride is very into it but there’s definitely an argument for coercion here), lots of non-affectionate degradation and name-calling (slut, whore, etc), bad dom/sub dynamics, choking, hair pulling, pussy slapping, spanking, overstimulation. single, brief threat of mutilation. use of claws. continued references to non-sexual child abuse and grooming. animal/pet death. canon-typical violence.

chapter three. rasque.⋆☁︎ :･꧂ a daring escape. ❤︎ warnings: references to the last chapter’s violence. big regrets. sexual fantasies. cutting (to remove a tracking device). some aftercare.

chapter four. anthrodynia. .⋆☁︎ :･꧂ the monster regrets. ❤︎ warnings: aftercare. references to chapter two’s violence. regret. sexual fantasies and general horniness. references to food restriction/dieting.

chapter five. o'erpine. .⋆☁︎ :･꧂ a conflict arises. a series of truths come out. ✩ warnings: a few descriptions of physical nausea/pre-vomiting. it’s been less than a day since chapter two so we’ve still got a lot of regret to process. descriptions of leftover physical pain and references to some of the rough/hate-sex from chapter two. discussion of non-sexual child abuse and controlling behaviors/manipulation. discussion of pet death and intentionally self-inflicted allergic reactions. brief flashbacks to lylla’s execution.

chapter six. lockhearted.⋆☁︎ :･꧂ pearl and the monster get to know one another. a little bit. ✩ warnings: leftover regret. descriptions of child abuse/grooming (specifically gaslighting, blaming, and pet/animal death).

chapter seven. starlorn. .⋆☁︎ :･꧂ pearl pleads her case. ✩ warnings: self-injury (biting), continued references to grooming and confinement. rocket’s explicit running commentary and the faintest whisper of d/s vibes. brief mention of bondage.

chapter eight. keep. .⋆☁︎ :･꧂ the monster dreams. pearl makes a den. ✩ warnings: references to canonical medical trauma. as usual, rocket’s a degenerate.

chapter nine. mal de coucou.⋆☁︎ :･꧂ pearl and the monster make landing-plans. pearl gets a massage from her survivor. ❤︎ warnings: description of hand surgery/butchery. massages and the resulting fantasies. 

chapter ten. querinous.⋆☁︎ :･꧂ rocket and pearl go shopping on cyxlore. ✩ [NEW 5/17] warnings: just rocket's anxiety.

chapter eleven. hailbound.⋆☁︎ :･꧂ pearl adopts a stray. rocket falls for a sovereign. ✩ [est 5/23] warnings: still just rocket's anxiety.

chapter twelve. ochisia. .⋆☁︎ :･꧂ rocket decides to make sure pearl doesn't think she can replace him. ❤︎ [est 5/30] warnings: guided masturbation. mild exhibitionism/voyeruism. praise. light d/s vibes.

chapter thirteen. heartspur.⋆☁︎ :･꧂ rocket and pearl get into a fight. rocket shares a secret. ✩ [6/4] warnings: brief mention of rocket's past.

chapter fourteen. ghough.⋆☁︎ :･꧂ pearl teaches rocket and groot about abilisks. rocket helps her relieve some stress. ❤︎❤︎ [6/11] warnings: grinding, dirty talk, praise. talk of genocide and wyndham’s other experiments.

chapter fifteen. soufrise.⋆☁︎ :･꧂ pearl plans. rocket begins to speak groot. [rating tbd] [date tbd] warnings:

chapter sixteen. keyframe.⋆☁︎ :･꧂ rocket, pearl, and groot make new allies. [rating tbd] [date tbd] warnings:

chapter seventeen. rubatosis.⋆☁︎ :･꧂ pearl learns about a lie. [rating tbd] [date tbd] warnings:

chapter eighteen. falesia.⋆☁︎ :･꧂ the crew stops on knowhere to make some extra units. rocket finds himself increasingly infatuated. [rating tbd] [date tbd] warnings:

chapter ninteen. la gaudière.⋆☁︎ :･꧂ someone steals from the collector. pearl has a near-miss. [rating tbd] [date tbd] warnings:

chapter twenty. .⋆☁︎ :･꧂ [rating tbd] [date tbd] warnings:

chapter twenty-one. .⋆☁︎ :･꧂ [rating tbd] [date tbd] warnings:

chapter twenty-two. .⋆☁︎ :･꧂ [rating tbd] [date tbd] warnings:

chapter twenty-three. .⋆☁︎ :･꧂ [rating tbd] [date tbd] warnings:

chapter twenty-four. .⋆☁︎ :･꧂ [rating tbd] [date tbd] warnings:

chapter twenty-five. .⋆☁︎ :･꧂ [rating tbd] [date tbd] warnings:

[jsprnt]

Healing Hearts PT. 19 | Virgil van Dijk

Would a fresh start bring you more than just a new job?

A/N: AHHH babes, we're done with the story!! Thank you all so much for taking the time to read something I put a lot of time and energy into. Hopefully this story met your expectations when you first started reading! It's going to be weird to be done with this story, but don't worry! My (VVD, other Liverpool players as well) requests are definitely open. Please don't hesitate and send me a request if you want. Again thank you so much for reading. Love you all and stay healthy! <3

W/C: 2.878

Summary: Y/N L/N is a very skilled and praised physiotherapist. A certain event pushing her for a fresh start, as a physiotherapist for Liverpool FC. One question always being in the back of her mind: Will she be able to let go of her past and allow herself to experience new things?

"It is weird, especially since we worked together for three almost four years on the same team." I say, my arms crossed in front of me as I talk to Ten Hag.

He'd pulled me aside after the match, hugging me warmly after noticing me walk back from the team's changing room.

Liverpool had just drawn against Manchester United, a underwhelming game after all of us had grown confidence about winning easily. That was the thing about football, it could go any way- no matter how much you train and prepare.

"We could work together again, if you accept my offer." He says, placing his hand on my shoulder.

I laugh, raising my brows at the sudden comment.

"You know my salary has gotten much higher than when I was at Ajax!" I joke, smile on my face as he laughs.

I could only decline his offer with a joke. In the past when I got a job offer by a rival team than of the one I worked for I didn't really care about the rivalry. It was just work to me. Yes, of course I grew close to players and staff, but it wasn't a factor which I let affect my career choices.

But Liverpool FC was different, nothing close to the bonds I formed in my former work environments. It was a community, a family even. The relationships I had with the players and staff were incomparable to what I had experienced in the past. Adding to this, I didn't really like the vibe the team gave, especially certain players.

So joining a rival team- Manchester United was definitely a 'no' for me.

"If it's you and your expertise- I could easily make sure you'd join our physio team and be paid handsomely."

"Very flattering, but I think-especially now, I'm very happy with my choice."

"Stubborn as always, makes me remember when you insisted the injury time of players could be shortened if we went by your methods."

"I was right every single time though!"

"That's why I'm not going to push this any further. I'm sure you have a good reason."

I feel a sudden presence behind me, turning my head to meet Virgil who had just walked out of the press corner. His expression looking a bit irritated.

"There's our Dutch captain!" Ten Hag exclaims, the men giving each other a handshake and hug.

"Needed to hear what you're convincing my girlfriend to do." He jokes, pearly teeth showing as he smiles.

"Right, my wife told me about you two, you two fit together very well." He compliments, pointing to us.

"Oh how's Bianca? I miss gossiping with her." I say, asking about his wife.

"She's alright, adjusting to life in Manchester still. You know those two didn't stop talking from the second they saw each other until they left each others side." He says to Virgil. 

"Being a baby physio was boring at times!" I shrug, defending myself. Feeling Virgil's arms wrap around my shoulder as he chuckles.

The conversation ends a couple minutes later, Virgil and me getting in my car.

"What did he talk to you about?" He asks as I start the car.

"Old times, tried to convince me to join his team." I laugh, grinning at the thought.

"Oh really?"

"Yeah, but I denied. I don't like some of their players- give me weird vibes." I say, glancing at his confused expression.

"You know who I'm talking about, the punchable looking one, he looks like a super villain." I add, focusing on the road.

"The one with the abuse allegations- Antony, like why haven't they thrown the fucker out yet?" I say, voicing my dislike as my grip on the steering wheel gets tighter.

"Isn't a very easy process, but it's definitely overdue." He says, his hand on my thigh as if to calm me down.

"Exactly.."

I reread my sleepily written e-mail to my lawyer for the hundredth time it feels like. Adding a comma here and there as I feel like my screen is fogging and blurring up. I had finally requested a restraining order against the man who broke into my home, the police finally starting to finalize the charges against him at my request.

He'd thankfully confessed about being ordered by Theo to break in. For now, I could only get a restraining order against the intruder, as getting one for Theo wasn't actually possible due to us living in different countries. I was satisfied as long as he could be charged in any way possible. Then I could finally be at peace.

I finally press the 'send' button, sighing as I lean my head back against the bus seat. Alerting Virgil of my annoyance. We'd been returning from the match against Burnley, the last before some time off until the new year.

He grabs my phone out of my hand, shaking his head at my protest. His hand coming to rest on my jaw, and I look at him, trying to make out his expression in the dim lights of the bus.

"Sleep, you've been up since six this morning. It's like nine thirty." He whispered, taking note of the fact that half of the players had already passed out. Journeys on the bus made everyone sleepy, whether it was being tired after an intense match, or the fact that the bus rocked just enough to make you fall asleep.

I feel him guide my head onto his shoulder, his arms wrapping around me as a content sigh leaves his lips. I don't protest, letting my body relax as my eyes grow heavy. Fatigue washing over me as I slip into a peaceful sleep. The last I remember being the feeling of soft kisses on the top of my head.

I’m nudged awake maybe an hour or two later, feeling confused and disoriented as I open my eyes. I'm not in the team bus anymore, but in Virgil's car. My eyes darting around to see that we were parked the driveway of his home.

"What? Where- how did I get here?" I ask, my eyes moving from Virgil's form to the windows. Rubbing my eyes tiredly, not even caring about smudging all my mascara anymore. Probably because it was already smudged.

"I carried you out of the bus into my car, your bag is in the backseat." He says nonchalantly, shrugging as he pulls the keys out of the ignition.

"Seriously? You couldn't wake me up? Instead, you put on a show?" I ask, closing my eyes as I cringe, imaging the situation.

"You sleep like the dead my love." He says, leaning forward to plant a kiss on my forehead before stepping out of the car. I sigh, unbuckling myself before I watch him open my door. Then he goes to collect our bags from the backseat.

"Come on, let's go inside." He ushers, making me step out of the car. I follow him, punching in his code before we both step into the home. I immediately make a beeline to the sofa, throwing myself onto it. A sigh leaving my mouth as I shift to get comfortable, grabbing the cushions to rest my head on them.

"Hey, get up if you sleep again you'll stay awake all night. Your sleep schedule is going get messed up." Virgil says, coming to shake me awake, making me groan in protest.

"I'm just resting my eyes.." I mumble, knowing damn well I'd already be fully asleep if he didn't shake me.

"That's what you say every time, then you fall asleep." He accuses, making me sit up straight.

"Did you pack your suitcase already?" He adds, sitting next to me.

"Of course- but say, do you have any space left in your suitcase?" I ask, my eyes snapping open.

"I do, why? Is yours full- did you exceed the weight limit? We have like 32 kilograms of allowance, are you serious?" He asks, looking at me shocked.

"You see, heels are pretty heavy and you definitely won't bring 32 kilograms right?" I begin, grinning sheepishly at him before he grabs me, shaking me playfully.

"Alright, you can give me some of your stuff."

"Is this good? You don't want it to be too tight on your head." Virgil asks, his hands adjusting the buckle of my pink helmet as I hold his gloves in my hand and support both of the snowboards with my arm.

I raise my hand, fidgeting with the buckle myself, before look at him with a smile.

"Feels alright, here." I say, handing him the gloves. Watching him put them on, my eyes flickering over the white piste. Since we'd wrapped up the last game of 2023, and finished top of the table. The both of us decided to go on a little ski resort trip in eastern France.

"Ready?" He asks, looking at me as he grabs his board.

I nod, starting to follow him.

"Will you help me get up when I fall?"

He looks at me, my reflection starting back at me through his goggles.

"I thought you were a pro?" He asks, showing me his heart-throbbing smile.

"I have experience but not a pro. Last time I skied or snowboarded- I was like twenty-two." I defended myself, jogging slightly to catch up with him.

He hums, starting to look ahead as we walk up to the ski lift.

"Hey, staying close to me will also minimize your change of getting injured." I add.

"Why? Are you the injury prevention whisperer?"

"No, but I can heal them.."

"I can still feel my legs burn. I forgot how much it hurts.." I complain, jumping into the hotel room bed after showering and pulling the blanket on my body. At least dinner was insanely delicious.

"I'm actually freezing." I say, the iron supplements I was prescribed didn't work at all. Definitely because, when I took them in the morning, I'd throw them up an hour later. I had to revisit the doctor for a lower dosage when we got back.

"Getting in bed already?" Virgil asks, turning on the heating before walking up to me.

I yawn as if on cue, lying on my stomach as I feel the bed dip, making me shift towards him. Bringing my hand up to the side of his face. I caress his cheekbone, my cheek squished against the fluffy pillow.

"You had fun right?" He asks, pulling me closer.

"I did, well after the third time I fell on my ass.." I joke, soft chuckle leaving my lips as I trace the top of his lips with my thumb.

"You'll like it more tomorrow, since you got used to the feeling again." He replies, the collar of shirt moving as he shifts, revealing his collarbone.

I don't respond, my thumb hovering over his lip as my eyes flicker to his, the silence of the night surrounding us.

My heart thumps in my chest, eyes roaming on his features as my palm rests on his jaw.

"You know babe-" he begins, making me return my attention back to eyes. Raising my eyebrows slightly as if to urge him to continue.

"-everything you said could be understood as an innuendo."

My face forms to that of disbelief, recalling my words before groaning in annoyance.

"Why- would you ruin the moment like this?" I exclaim, honestly trying hard to contain a laugh, starting to get up, trying to remove my hand off his jaw, but he grabs my wrist again.

He pulls me closer my chest hitting his, placing my hand back on his jaw, peppering soft kisses on my palm as he murmurs soft apologies.

"I had to say it." He chuckles, his hand still holding onto my wrist. His chest vibrating against mine.

A sudden blasting of my ringtone makes me jump slightly, a gasp leaving my lips as my eyes widen.

"Scared the crap out of me.."

I try to get up, remembering I left it on the sofa, but I'm pulled back again. My wrist still in his hold, though not being painful.

"Stay, get it later.." He whispers lowly, voice deeper as he stares it my eyes. I lower my hand, tracing his jawline, hearing him take in a rushed breath. I ghost my fingers on his skin, trailing my hand down to his collarbone before tracing it.

His grip suddenly returns to my wrist, guiding my hand onto his chest, right on top of his heart. The quick heartbeat thumping underneath my palm.

"You're making it hard to resist- you know that?"

"Open the link I sent you? Right now!" Jul shouts through my phone speaker, making me frown in curiosity as I click the link. It taking me to a news article.

"Dutch Billionaire family caught in fraud and embezzlement scheme."

"What the fuck!" I exclaim, my eyes roaming around the article to understand what had happened. Freezing as I see a picture of Theo handcuffed as multiple police officers escort him.

I feel a sudden rush of adrenaline flow through me. I sit up straight from the sofa, unfolding my legs. Blinking at the screen in front of me.

This is was all I needed.

"Would laughing at this be inappropriate?" I ask Jul, switching to FaceTime again as a laugh threatens to fall from my lip.

"Laugh all you want girl, this is the karma you wished for."

"If I was back home in The Netherlands I'd be lighting fireworks with the teenagers of my neighborhood." I laugh, taking a sip of my drink.

It was New Year's Eve, Virgil and me going out to celebrate with the other teammates. Monet and her boyfriend also flying over to celebrate with us. We weren't drinking at all. Or at least Virgil and the rest of the players. Me deciding to not drink for moral support. Drinking did not bring the fun, however company did and it was great. Besides, the ice-cold virgin mojito with Red Bull I was drinking was enough to keep me up all night.

I feel Virgil's hold on my waist tighten, his lips on my shoulder as we both sway to the music in the club.

"This is better though.."

I remove his hands from my waist, turning and facing him as I wrap my arms around his neck instead.

"You know, new years isn't usually a happy time for me. I used to get so sad when the clock ticked twelve, like it made me emotional. I regretted every single thing I did that year. But this time it feels different.." I confess, running my fingers up and down his nape as he kisses my cheek.

"In a good way?" He asks, his thumb holding up my chin.

"Yeah, I feel good. I think I'm finally feeling positive of the year I had. It was definitely rough at times, and you've been amazing support, but I think the changes I've made lead me to the best outcome of my life."

"That is?"

"Moving here, to Liverpool. Joining the club, meeting you.."

"Yeah, I'm a part of that 'best outcome'?"

"Of course you are. I've never said it directly, but you've been the best companion I've made this year. So really, thank you for everything..." I continue, the sweet words falling off my tongue in a delicate manner.

I watch a smug expression form on his face, but his brown eyes are sweet, like dark molasses.

"Could say the exact same thing about you my love. You've been the best doctor, lover and support. Everything I could have ever dreamed of. You're amazing in every single way, I can't even begin to count all the times you've motivated to keep me going." He tells me, his other hand on the small of my back as he leans in to kiss me.

"So sweet." I mumble in between kisses, pulling him closer by his collar. The sudden shout of everybody starting to count from ten making me pull away as I admire the lights flashing. I grab onto Virgil's bigger hand, squeezing it as we all start counting down.

"Five!"

"Four!"

"Three!"

"Two!"

"One!"

I hold my breath for a moment, feeling Virgil's hand on my jaw as he pulls me in. Our lips crashing together, the cheering of "happy new year!" loud and clear as our eyes flutter shut. The taste addicting as I reach up to hold onto his bicep. We get lost in the moment, not even pulling away to breathe as we lose ourselves in the sensation.

"Happy New Year, my love."

No, this would be my fresh start.

[cyberkiss2uu]

good morning pokemon community umm. gymsona w other gym leaders i think match their vibe ^_^ do nottt ask me what gen any of these ppl are from dude i play pokemon pearl and cant even tell u who the gym leaders are in that. i opned the pokemon wiki and scrolled

anywho more info and stuff below break hehehehehehehhehehe

> this is all copypasted from when i talked ab it in a server LOL

ermm okie side note my only pkmn knowledge is like. pearl. so my bad :3 but the way i made the gym it kinda pushes how gyms traditionally work ... its more like a game show [because i always loved doing the little interviews thru pearl and the contests n stuff] where theres 8 contestants and they just bracket their way down to the final battle against the gym leader/host who is. me technically. but jamie crown is their name ^_^

one fun thing i thought of was because its a live show u wouldnt rlly be able to .. leave and go to the pokecenter and heal or buy items.. so ud have an option to heal between rounds at ur little podium :3 all with pokecenter certified tech or whatev of course !!

because its not gym members i realize it doesnt rlly lend itself towards being a typical gym since it would be ppl from all over coming to compete thinking emoji.. but it kinda works as a like. elite four minigame LOL idk :3 i didnt think ab it too hard

and then in terms of the team i chose

> starmie to fit a celestial theme i have going on w my friends hehe i originally had jirachi but that seems. unfair

> luxray .. my fav pokemon and i originally was going to do an electric gym

> meloetta coz her earpiece thing is vry similar to the og design's earpiece and semi inspired the earpiece now

> and tinkaton for being super cute and also like wat if she helped build and repair stuff... ik the dex entries mention tinkaton being a thief usually but . thats ok i support womens wrongs

and then real nerd alert ☝️ the outfit i just redesigned i think comes together sooo well im so happy w it. the collar being mirrored on the top of the boots, the vaguely sci-fi aesthetic taht i love w the wavy patterning kinda veering towards like 80s and that retro-futuristic look that i love.. the capelet kinda looking jester-y [i looove a good jester aesthetic] plus theyre very 80s. gameshow host personality LOL.. the star tie is super cute i think and the little luxray star shapes around and even in the eyes <333 idfk im just so happy w it its so cute and awesomeee

also the visual of jamie tellinf starmie to use surf in a densely packed room with a high concentration of electrical components on live television is sending me into a FIT because they ARE bimbo enough to do that

and also the design alt and the old outfit :3 the last one is just an outfit i found looking at rhythmic gymnastic leotards n went OH THATS SO JAMIE hehe.. the old design is so dear to me and i still rlly like it but i love this new one a lot ^_^ idk i think their design will change a lot regardless because being a game show host i think they would have lots of diff outfits as opposed to a uniform but.. pokemon logic u wear the same outfit for the rest of ur life

[alevolpe]

If there was a re-boot of sailor moon with you writing it I would CONSUME that stuff. Your headcanons and concepts sound so much cooler than the original show :') (I still love the og show dearly, but like- yours just has a more complex vibe and I'm living for it.)

Also question, what do you mean by princess serenity being jealous that Usagi gets to live life and not her? Is it sort of like an inner voice for Usagi and the other guardians??

Hi First I wanna mention that this is also a very old ask and it came out before I posted my summary for my AU season 2, which goes into further details about Serenity. Second of all, Thank you so much!

It means a lot that people are not only willing to listen to me babble about my AU, but that they ask so many questions about it, it’s heartwarming, truly! <3 <3

Though, getting back to your Princess Serenity question, Princess Serenity doesn’t ‘despise’ Usagi as a person, she just feels an immense resentment toward her existence after Minako points out that Serenity is stealing her life.

Quick recap, Serenity back in silmil accepted a deal by Venus to let herself be killed by Venus’ sword so that her soul would persist through the next life, lying dormant within Usagi til the right moment where Serenity could regain control of her new reincarnated body and get to live a new fair life.

She, much like Queen Serenity (way more so than her tho), is not an outright malicious person, she doesn’t willingly choose to make decisions that will cause harm to others. She does feel good about helping other people, but not it at the cost of depriving herself from goods, services, people, etc.. cause she was lead to believe she’s deserving of such privileges. To her they aren’t privileges, gifts, they are a RIGHT, much like life. Her new life is something the universe owes her, her past life was terrible, she deserves to live free from the responsibility of being Queen and just live happily with her lover.

Much like many people, Serenity chooses to turn her cheek to things she doesn’t wanna see and closes herself in a reality where she can be happy. In silmil it was her life with her ‘friend’ Venus and especially her lover Endymion, choosing to stay oblivious of the suffering of humans back on Earth and the suffering of her fellow soldiers. She doesn’t like being accused that her ignorance and selfishness could be a direct cause of people’s suffering.

And this is where Usagi comes into the picture. Why does Usagi deserve this new life more than her? The universe gave HER her rightful second chance, Usagi well, Serenity’s mentality when directly addressed to this is basically “sucks for her” (tho she wouldn’t say this out loud cause it would undeniably confirm to herself and others that she IS selfish and she IS NOT ‘oblivious’ to it anymore, she’s actively choosing self preservation over the given life of another).

At the beginning Serenity only manifests in a “feeling” when interacting with Mamoru, it’s not a particularly strong one, it doesn’t affect Usagi’s feelings toward him apart from the feeling of “I feel like I’ve seen you before”, tho as the season goes on, her presence is more and more felt, not only by Usagi, but also the people around her and it all ’explodes’ at the moment of Rei’s ‘death’ in season 1 (tldr, the senshi except Usagi and Mina are called to a mission which is in reality a booby trap by Kunzite and Zoisite, the girls get their shit kicked in and when Usagi appears she pleads to give the Crystal for their lives. Kunzite ‘accepts’ but tried to kill Usagi regardless, Rei steps in the way and gets stabbed). At this point Serenity comes to Usagi as a force, rendering her hollow, much like Serenity is shown in her first appearance in the anime, but much scarier, sending her now hollow senshi (Mercury and Jupiter) to brutally attack the 2 generals, while she embraces Rei, healing her just in time. Venus comes in and bashes Usagi on the head, severing the fragile connection between Usagi and Serenity at that moment and returning Jupiter and Mercury to their status quo.

From then on Serenity’s voice is ever so present within Usagi, but Usagi chooses to be silent about it with the others, thinking it might just be the Silver Crystal and her ally (Serenity keeping quiet on who she rlly is and her true intentions, the only reason she even communicates with Usagi is to make sure she prioritizes Endymion’s safety).

Other than her, Venus and Mars are really the only inners to keep a fairly strong connection to their reincarnated ‘selves’.

I’ve explained Venus’ role int he story many times, so I’ll keep it brief and just mention the ways she keeps contact with Mina. She torments Mina on a daily basis, depending how far into the seasons, she can just be a voice within Mina, to appearing as outright hallucinations.

She will appear through reflections, speak to her through tvs, radios and even in writings. When her connection is weaker, she just limits to mimicking and using voices around Mina, but as the connection grows stronger, she will be able to fully use her own voice/appearance to communicate with her.

At the beginning Mina was fairly trusting of her, while still being skeptical of the whole deal around silmil, she listened to Venus’ demands to fully dedicate herself into becoming a sailor senshi and become a good leader, otherwise, she thought, it would cause the fall of civilization as they know it and the death of her ‘soon to be’ teammates by the hands of the Dark kingdom. During this period Venus could be considered almost a mentor to Mina, while keeping a sharp edge on her approach. Using intimidation, mockery and guilt-tripping as her main forms of manipulation.

As for Mars, she is very low key with her approach of interacting with Rei. Unlike Venus, Mars is a genuinely good person, only wishing to guide Rei, but not being willing to step over the line if Rei steps up boundaries with her. Her main way of communication with Rei is through visions, offering Rei guidance and a helping hand, understanding the heavy toll recurring visions can have on someone and the enormous responsibility this role carries.

As for Mercury and Jupiter, they have little no interest (or means) to interact with their reincarnations. Jupiter much less so, honestly being content to just cease existing. While Mercury only appearing to Ami during the very few moments she’s ‘allowed’ to (ex. Sailor Mercury’s transformation, appearing as a sort of sinister figure who passes down the torch to Ami, as to say). Still she has little interest to interact with this new vessel, embellishing in her own amusement while sitting on the back lines, watching over the ever evolving car crash taking place. Life is such a curios thing.

Small elements of their personality re-emerging when Sailor Jupiter and Sailor Mercury are taken over by Serenity and the Silver Crystal. Mercury constantly presenting an eerie amused smile while Jupiter taking the whole opposite stand, never smiling, hunching over, seeming to sulk in her own miserable existence.