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The Life of an Ackerman: Chapter 1

Jean Kristen X FTM!reader

3k words

My longest chapter so far ( I think)

Trigger warning: Transphobia( No slurs or deadnaming, just ignoring new name) mentions torture and death ( no death or torture but the words are used)

Let me know if I missed a trigger or if you spot any spelling mistakes.

Feedback is encouraged!!

I haven't said happy pride month so happy pride month and I thought it was fitting to say here because this is both gay and trans.

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Being born an Ackerman wasn’t easy, especially when your father was Kenny the ripper. Your father never had much restraint, for booze or women, when the two mixed Kenny had no problem, most of the time the booze amplified his pleaser. It was no different the night you were conceived, Kenny had his booze and women who worked at the bar. They didn’t love each other, they might not even like each other. You could describe their relationship as a drunk flirt and a waitress who was tired of it, and knowing the best way to get rid of the man was to do what he wanted. She was partially right, because, after one night together, Kenny left her alone, and which was exactly what she wanted. Then three months later she discovered she was pregnant, and Kenny was nowhere to be found. While she was pregnant she investigated Kenny and where he could have gone, and by the time you were born your mother knew where Kenny lived and she had no problem doing the same thing Kenny did to her, she disappeared.

Kenny wasn’t thrilled to find a baby at his door, with a note claiming it was his own. Though he wasn’t the best person, he wasn’t going to leave his own infant, so he raised you, more like trained you. You learned how to protect yourself and others, how to hurt and kill people at the age of 10, you never killed, you just knew how. You missed the innocence of only knowing how to kill because you couldn’t go about life as Kenny the Ripper’s child without killing someone.

At twelve you started to change, you had discovered why you felt so disconnected from your body. You slowly began to change your appearance to be more like the boy you were, even if your body was a constant reminder that you weren’t. You told your father about these feelings when he questioned the change in your appearance. You know he would catch your lies if you tried, so you told him the truth. Telling him that you wanted to go by Y/n instead of the name your mother gave you, you wanted to be called he/him like the rest of the men instead of she/her that you’d been for the past twelve years. He never called you by your old name again, but he also never called you y/n, he called you a nickname which is how he addresses most people. To him, you were now ‘kick’ short for sidekick cause that’s all you were to him.

Being his son and being trained since you were a child, you became a member of the Anti-personnel control squad. Even though you didn’t agree with his stance, you were still forced to work for him. He had told you almost everything about Reiss family and the Ackerman family, and what he hadn’t told you, drunk Kenny told you. So you knew more than most and you formed your own opinion. All for nothing though because you were still forced to work for him and against the scouts. Though being his son and learning the skills of Kenny the Ripper, and being forced to work with him, brought you to working with the scouts, so how angry can you be.

After Kenny died, you grieved and then healed rather quickly, it was important to be able to get over people, you learned that from your dad. After healing you came up with a plan, you hunted down Levi Ackerman, a man that your dad had mentioned more than once. He was an Ackerman along with the captain of the survey corps, you need to meet him. There was a lot your late father had taught you, like manipulation, or blackmail, and because he couldn’t keep his mouth shut you had enough information on Levi to do what you were taught. Though your plan underestimated Levi and fell to pieces when the man caught you.

You were sneaking around the survey corps base, when you felt someone pull you back along with the feeling of a knife against your neck, you knew it was him when he spoke.

“You have three seconds. Who are you and why are you here?”

“ I’m y/n Ackerman”

“Bullshit.”

He pressed the blade further into your neck, it reminded you of your father’s signature move.

“It’s not. I’m the son of Kenny Ackerman, your uncle. Making me your cousin.”

Even with the information which should be shocking to him, I can’t feel any changes in his heartbeat or the pressure his knife has on my throat.

“What proof do you have?”

“I know you are from the underground. I know your mother’s name, Kuchel. I know about your mother’s job.”

You could have continued but Levi didn’t seem to like what you already said and stopped you.

“How do you know that information?”

It was a stupid question, you expected a smarter man. But it must run in the family cause calling him stupid out loud is just as dumb as his question.

“That’s a stupid question, Kenny Ackerman, my dad told me.”

You now felt a change in pressure of the knife on your neck, shockingly it didn’t press deeper but released just a little.

“Did you just call me stupid?”

It was a rhetorical question, and the tone sent chills down your spine. If he hadn’t moved the knife away you would except he was going to murder you. After seconds of torturous silence and stillness, Levi fully removes the knife from your neck. You weren’t free though, he still had the knife ready, now aimed at your back instead of your neck. You weren’t so stupid to try and move, you would be dead in a second if you did such a thing.

“Smart cookie arent you.”

He was testing you, he wanted you to move so that he could strike. But since you didn’t he had no reason to believe you would later.

“Move forward, and don’t make any movement that I don’t instruct you to.”

You start to move down the corridor, trying to determine the right speed knowing that if you move too fast or too slow you’ll be in trouble.

“You are going to turn and enter the next door on your left. Then you’ll turn right and wait by the door.”

His voice was more demanding than before. You spotted the door he talked about, and when you reached it you turned left then right, stopped, and waited at the door as instructed. Levi was right behind you as you entered the room, but he now stood to your left, right in front of the doorway.

You were afraid to make too much movement cause his eyes and kife were still trained on you. Without moving anything but your eye you survived the room, noticing that multiple scouts were cleaning the room.

“Connie and Jean come here.”

Levi yelled into the room, two men approached him. The short one with almost no hair, stood in front of Levi ready for instructions. Then the taller one with brown hair and a long flattish face, stood slouched as if his sergeant wasn’t in front of him. The shorter one hit the taller one, who then straighten his posture. It was funny in an attractive way. Levi turned to the short one and began to give him instruction.

“Connie, go inform Hange that we have an intruder in custody who may be lying about their identity, they’ll know what to do.”

Connie left as soon as Levi was done talking and had now turned to the taller one, and by process of elimination you figured out that he was Jean.

“Jean I need you to find something to confined this intruder with, rope would probably work best.”

Jean moved to a cabinet right next to you and pulled at some rope.

“Good thing we just organized sir or else it would have taken me ages to find this.”

It wasn’t a super finny joke but it was funnier than what you had heard in the past month, and a laugh passed right through you. The was quick shuffling and you realized everyone’s eyes were on you. They all know how strict Levi was and that you laughing wasn’t something Levi instructed. When they realized Levi wasn’t going to do anything they got back to work.

“Jean tie this man’s arms behind his back.”

You had never been called a man and once again your emotions slipped through and a smile reached your lips.

Jean approached you and put his hand on your shoulder, turning your body so you were facing the cabinet the rope came from. He began to tie your arms, tight enough to restrict your movement but not the blood flow. While he works he talks, whispering so only you hear.

“Thanks for laughing at my joke, no one does, it also takes balls to laugh at one of my jokes when your under Levi’s knife.”

Ironic. His hands finish tying yours and he guided you back to Levi.

“Sir I’ve tied the intruder, where should I take him.”

“That won’t be necessary, I got him for now. Everyone finishes cleaning this room, it better be spotless when I return from the torture chamber.”

He takes me from Jean and pushes me out of the room, and toward what I can only assume will be my death or wish for death.

“See you soon, or maybe not.”

“Jean!!”

Jean calls out from behind followed by others yelling at him for the insensitive joke. I smile even if it is a joke at my possible death.

You know sat on the floor of what you assume is a torture chamber, it’s dirty, which isn’t a shock. Suddenly the door opens and Levi walks in and behind him comes a taller person with glasses and a determined face. They seemed to be at the end of a conversation.

“Oh another Ackerman, exiting!”

The taller one practically jumps closer to you.

“We don’t know if it’s true. That what you are here for.”

Levi closed the door behind the two of them still trying to take away your last name.

“Oh come on, what would a poor thing like this lie. Especially lie about being related to you.”

The person stood over you, staring at you intensely, but they talked as if you weren’t there.

“I don’t know, but I do know that Kenny isn’t the father type.”

“I can’t argue with that. I never claimed he was the father type.”

You laughed at the idea of your father acting like a father to you.

“Pipe down brat. Only talk when we ask you a question.”

Levi silenced you.

“Wow, no kick to the stomach. Have you gotten soft?

The person mocked Levi, they also started to investigate you, but never touched you.

“Non-sense.”

That’s all Levi said in defense of the person’s accusations of his emotional strength. You found it Ackerman-like, Ackermans don’t need to defend them selfs over stupid accusations.

“You’re pretty good at spotting lies. So I want you to tell me when the little twerp lies.”

“So no torture, why bring him here then? I think I was right, you’ve gone soft. But no complaints here.”

The person finally addresses you.

“Hello I’m Hange, and it might be your lucky day, As long as you don’t lie, we won’t touch or harm you.”

You weren’t sure if you were allowed to nod so you stay still, Hange continued.

“So you claim that your and Ackerman, to be specific y/n Ackerman. Are you sticking by your original statement?”

You were tired of the constant questioning of your true identity.

“Yes, I am y/n Ackerman!”

You snapped a little.

“Feisty, that’s the Ackerman attitude!”

They turn back to Levi.

“I don’t think they’re lying but I’ll continue.”

They turn back to me.

“Is your father Kenny the Ripper, also known a Kenny Ackerman?”

It was only the second question but you were already sick of the interrogation.

“Yes.”

Hange turned back and walked to Levi.

“Still no lie detected, I don’t have any more questions, because you won’t tell me the rest of the story.”

They nudged Levi with their whole body.

“So you believe he’s an Ackerman. Their little proof of what he says”

When Levi finished, Hange added to what he was saying.

“And less against it.”

They sounded smug.

The two of them left, you were left in the gross dark room. You were also left dark in the sense that you had no clue what they were discussing you knew that what they decide will be your future.

Eventually, the door opened and Hange came in, more excited than they should be.

“A new friend!”

They grabbed you and lifted you onto your feet and began pulling you out of the room.

“Oh sorry, I was supposed to ask before touching you.”

Even though they sounded sincere, they continued to pull you around.

“The cadets and others always tell me that I should respect others space”

They continue to pull you until you arrived at a room, they opened the door and pulled you in, then sat you on the bed.

“Welcome to your new room, it took some convincing but we agreed that at the very least we should keep you in our sight. So your kind of trapped here now, but I promise it won’t feel that way!”

They left and closed the door, but before you could relax they rushed back in.

“Whoops, guess I should undo those restraints.”

You had forgotten about the restraints, they had been on practically all day. You stood up from the bed and turned around so that Hange could undo the rope. You thought back to the person who did the restraints, you thought about his face and his hands and his voice, his laugh that was caused by his own joke. You tried to remember his name, it rhymed with bean, and started with J.

“Jean!”

When you remembered his name, it slipped out, not quietly.

“Yeah, that’s what I said,”

Luckily for you, Hange was talking about the very person you were thinking about. Either way, you became embarrassed. Soon enough Hange left, and you were alone with your thoughts.

You stayed cooped up in the room you were given. There was one door, zero windows, one bed one dresser, and a mirror. There wasn’t much for you to do, the only clothes you had were what you were wearing. You had no reason to leave, no birds to watch and you didn’t even consider looking in the mirror. The boredom had finally reached you, and you couldn’t think of a way to cure it. Luckily for you, someone came to the rescue.

The door open and as it opened Jean came into sight. He had a towel slung across his shoulder and a bucket in hand. He scanned the room and upon seeing you he froze, then coughed a little, while a blush crept up his cheeks.

“Sorry, I thought this room was empty.”

He didn’t make any movement to leave or enter, he stood there staring at you.

“Well, now you know. So are you going to leave or come in, or have you become a statute?”

He started to move inside your room, you had expected him to leave. He must have noticed the confused look on your face, deciding to explain himself.

“Levi’s strict about the cleanliness, so either you clean this room or let me.”

He has a stupid smile on his face as he offers the bucket and pulls the rag off his shoulder, also offering it to you.

“I’m not cleaning, so have fun.”

“That’s what I expected.”

He started to clean the room, but he eventually became tired of the awkwardness of being watched in silence.

“So you have no worries that I’ll snoop on you or steal from you?”

You changed your position on your bed, now sitting legs crossed.

“Yeah cause the man who makes terrible jokes is going to steal something from me. No, I just don’t have anything for you to steal or snoop.”

You responded sarcastically but also felt there was no reason to hide the truth so you told him, in the end, to clear up any confusion.

“Oh so you think that I wouldn’t be able to steal from you, you must be confident. You are you that you are so confident.”

He was joking with you, your glad a strict scout wasn’t the one who was cleaning your room.

“Someone who you restrained less than five hours ago.”

You thought it was weird that he was acting so normal around someone that was labeled as an intruder.

“You’re clearly not much of a threat if they let you in such a nice room.”

You laughed at his detective skills.

“Real though who are you, intruder.”

Without knowing your name, he only knew you as the intruder and decided to use it as a nickname.

“I’m y/n!”

He waited for you to continue but you never did. You didn’t think Levi would want you exposing yourself as an Ackerman.

“No last name?”

He questioned, but you’ve been here before and always answer with something that shuts most people down.

“Lots of people don’t.”

He took your answer, as most people did.

“Yeah, I guess you right.”

The room went quiet again as he continues to clean. Every once and a while one of you would strike up a conversation. You need to stretch your legs, got up, and walked to the door and back, which earned you an earful from Jean about making the floor dirty when he just cleaned it.

Eventually, he was done and had to leave. He opened the door about to leave but stopped when he heard your voice.

“Before you go, can I have my sock back?”

He turned around with a slight shock on his face.

“I guess you have a right to be confident. And you really did have nothing else for me to steal.”

He dropped the sock next to your shoes. He grabbed the door handle and began to close it while saying goodbye.

“See you around, Intruder.”

You assumed that this was going to be a countenance thing, and you don’t mind.

Addictive Cologne

Unreqiueted kiribaku, and established bakudeku

967 words

Trigger warning: Death ( not explicit)

Let me know if I missed a trigger or if you spot any spelling mistakes.

Feedback is encouraged!!

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Kirishima pov

I look at myself in the mirror wondering if I look manly enough, wondering if enough in general. I watch from the corner of the mirror as Bakugou gets up from the bed. He walks over to me, walking and standing in front of my mirror, abstracting my view. He gets real close to me, I can smell cologne on him, it the same as always, it addicting, I have to stop myself from leaning into it. He begins to flick and brush off stuff on my shirt, he continues for so long that I’m sure that he’s flicking fake pieces off. He’s so close yet so far, his eyes never meeting mine, miss touches never quite touching me, just quick motions leaving me wanting more, but what else would I expect from Bakugou. He always distances himself, physically and emotionally, never letting anyone close, running further away when someone gets too close, and I’m always too close for him. I notice that while I spaced out looking into his fluffy hair, that he has frozen. I try to read his facial features from this angle. His head is tilted so far down that all I can see in his eyes, which isn’t clear because his hair blocks most of the emotion his eyes hold. He looks afraid, in a way, like he’s trying to make a decision, whatever it is, it matters. Bakugou isn’t a second guesser, he ruses in with confidence, and I wish he would always have that confidence instead of this depressing look. I stay still as he lifts his head, still avoiding eye contact with me, his head goes to my left ear, I can smell like his cologne shifts with his body. His body almost leaning on mine, as I stay frozen waiting for something to happen. I feel him let out a breath, he’s so close to me, the breath brushing my ear and sending shivers through my back and tinting my cheeks pink. Then he whispers’s

“You look good, red”

We both stay frozen, the only movement being our eyes drifting toward each other, as our heads stay facing opposite direction. For a second I wonder if he’s going to kiss me, blushing even harder at the idea. I give myself a pep talk, don’t wait for him to kiss you, kiss him. I began to turn my head, taking notice that he’s doing the same but before our heads are all the way turn before our lips meet, I close my eye and turn my head back to the front. My head facing down, eyes still closed, I take a deep breath in searching for the addicting smell of his cologne when I don’t find it I realize a shaky breath out. I lift my head and take another breath, opening my eyes when I breathe out, looking back into the mirror. The only thing in the mirror being myself, in a black-on-black tux, my hair buzzed no longer red, just my natural black. The only red seen through the mirror being my eyes. I fix my black vest while holding back tears, deciding that this is the best I can make myself look.

I leave my dorm, my friends already ready and waiting for me. We are loaded into nice cars, and taken to the funeral serves. MIna was the first one to cry, after Denki made a lord explosion murder joke her mascara running and ruining her makeup, she cries almost all her makeup off, revealing the dark circles under her eyes that match everyone else’s. Denki cried seconds later after Shinso yelled at him for joking at a time like this. Denki sobbing and apologizing profusely, while Sero rubs Denki’s back and glaring at Shinso. Sero and Shinso never cried but they both seemed to put their emotions else were focusing on something else.

We arrived at the sight, stepping out of the car. I look over and notice that the rest of our classmates already arrived and are inside. We walk in a group, but not together, toward the building. When we arrive I hold the door open for everyone. When I enter I close my eyes and take a deep breath, when I smell his cologne I open my eyes hoping that this past week was a cruel joke. I scan the room for the fluffy blonde, but he is nowhere to be found, I concluded that someone else just shares the same cologne taste. I try my best to put on a smile and mingle with my classmates, avoiding the Bakugou’s. Eventually making it to a seat, when I smell his cologne closed than before. I turn my head to see who was wearing his cologne, and there sat Midoriya, a big fake smile plastered on his face, his eyes filled with pity. I can’t stop myself from the words that escape.

“You’re wearing his cologne”

He laughed with nervous

“Yeah, he gave it to me for our one-month anniversary, which was the day before ..”

He trailed off but I was too distracted by the memory that Midoriya and Bakugou were in a relationship. Bakugou didn't mention it much, and they didn’t participate in PDA so it was easy for me to forget, especially because forgetting was my best hope for getting over him at the time. But now I have to get over him, everyone does, and it’s not fair, none of it is. Why did Deku get him? Why did Deku get his sweatshirts? Why does Deku get the cologne, the cologne that I thought was addictive? The cologne wasn’t the addictive part, because thought it smells the same on Deku, it’s not addicting like it was on Bakugou, because I was addicted to him, not the cologne.

Disclaimer: Fictional Story, mentions of death

~♡~♡~♡~♡~

One moment was all it was.

I had been sitting at my desk, eyes flitting across the pages as I waited for the clock to strike 4.

Just as I turned the page, a shadow caught my eye, when I looked up I saw /him/.

We stared at each other, polite smiles forming on our faces.

But really my heart was rushing, stomach flipping, I wouldn't doubt it if I were told my face was completely red.

A second later he turned and walked past, disappearing into the building.

Even after he left the world seemed a little less dull.

One moment and he caught my eye.

One moment and he flipped my world.

One moment and I knew, this was the man...

The man I was going to kill.

One moment was all it was.

This is part 3 of the "What if Yuu didn't want to go back?" Series!

(I, the author of this work, do not consent to this work being crossposted/translated without my knowledge or used to train an AI, ever.)

Masterlist

"Myaah, keep going!"

"Non, chat. You no longer need to be brushed. Vil, how is Yuu's hair coming along?"

Vil sighs. I've noticed he does that a lot. "Not as well as I thought, Rook. Even though the top layer was absurdly thick, the lower layers don't look much better. This is going to take longer than I expected."

I look up and into the mirror in front of me. Vil has cut my hair short, but the process of detangling the remaining mat of hair has caused the detangled hair to be noticeably longer than what's still a total mess. I'd say the hair he's worked through is about 4 inches, just long enough to cover my ears.

"Say, Monseur Mystery, how did you guess Monseur Chat's name?"

"Well..." I hesitate. Even now, the thoughts of his death still hurt. "When I was living in my world, I found a cat. He was my only friend. He was an alley cat, but chubby- not in a concerning or limiting way, just in a cute way- and he was grey with a large patch of white fur on his front, and his tail faded into black at the end, and... he had polydactly. I think that's what it's called, at least. Do you guys know what that is?"

"Nope!" Grim's reply is cheerful, like an island of comfort in a sea of mourning.

"Well, it's a condition where your limbs split off into multiple limbs. So, a two-tipped finger or extra toe or something. Well, my cat had it on the end of his tail. It looked, " I pause, reaching my hand toward Grim and trying, failing, to hold back tears. "Into three. A trident tail, just like this." I'm holding his tail in my hand now, careful, like he might break just as my voice is doing now. I can hardly speak through the lump in my throat, but I can speak.

"A-and that cat's name was Grim. And he was hit by a car when he was eight, and I've never been the same." I'm crying now, my eyes reduced to floodgates and my voice to a wreck. Vil is hugging me, his arms bringing some sense of safe to me, but that sense of safe pales in comparison to the comfort of holding Grim in my arms. His fur is soft, much softer now that he's been brushed, and Rook has joined the hug.

We stay there, just like that, for what feels like forever. Vil's arms are strong around me, as are Rook's, and I'm holding Grim again, and I don't want to lose him again. I can't. I barely survived the first time; I can't survive a second. The guilt would kill me.

"I guessed his name, too. I didn't know how. It just felt right. But... Yuu, you kind of remind me of someone. Another human. He fed me in my dreams, and his name was Yuu, and we were great friends, but one day he just stopped showing up. I never saw him again." Grim's previously sad face brightens a little, like a tea candle with just enough air to burn. "You look a lot like him, but older. Maybe... maybe he was you."

The tears come back. I let them. This time, they're happy tears, and Grim is crying them, too. Vil allows a few more minutes to pass, just like that, before he lets go and resumes his task of unmatting the other half of my hair. Rook pulls away, too, and waves his magic pen.

A tape measure, like you see tailors using in movies, appears in the air in front of him for him to wrap around my waist with skillful hands. Soon, he's removed the tape measure from my waist in favor of wraping it around my chest, and then my arms, and then Vil tells him off for doing something unnecessary.

I laugh. "Say, Monseur Mystery, have you tried to use magic since you arrived?"

I ponder. "Not really."

Rook chuckles. "Facinating."

"Are you okay with others being let into the room, Yuu?" Vil's voice is soft and soothing. I'm a little jealous, but who cares?

"Go right ahead." The lump in my throat is gone now that Grim is purring happily in my arms, just enjoying the sensation of being pet. Rook leaves the room- still holding his tape measure, I notice- and the door shuts behind him. Surprisingly, I don't hear his footsteps as he walks away, even before the door is closed and blocking my view.

Less than a minute later, the door opens again, revealing Rook, Korrak, and Korrak's familiar, whose name I do not yet know. Rook waves his pen, cleaning the cat brush with magic, and starts brushing the strange oppossum as he brushed Grim.

"Hey, what's your name? I'm Grim!"

"Call me Mandible."

Well, I guess I have a name to go with both of my roommates now. Unlike Grim, Mandible needs only a few minutes of brushing before his fur is even and soft, at which point Rook measures him, waves his pen, and voilá: five small stacks of clothing appear on the counter.

"What are those?" Mandible is already poking at the piles by the time he thinks to ask. I wasn't expecting Mandible to be more talkative than Korrak, but I guess Grim and I are no better.

"Uniforms! The white one is a lab coat for alchemy, the violet one is a dorm uniform, the one next to the lab coat is a PE uniform, the one next to the dorm uniform is a school uniform, and the one in between the dorm clothes and lab coat are some ceremonial robes. All are sized exactly for Monseur Opossum, of course." Rook looks quite proud of himself.

"Myaah, neato! Do I get some?"

"But of course, Monseur Chat! If you'll allow me a moment..." Rook starts measuring Grim just like he did with Mandible, and Vil lets out a triumphant "Hah!"

"Finally conquered my hair?"

"Not entirely, but I'm done with the hard part." With this, Vil pulls out a brush- not a cat brush, just a regular human brush- and starts running it through my hair in a soothing rhythm. Tired from the short day's events, I allow it to lull me to sleep.

This is part 11 of the "What if Yuu didn't want to go back?" Series!

(I, the author of this work, do not consent to this work being crossposted/translated without my knowledge or used to train an AI, ever.)

Masterlist

By the time I leave, I have a ready-to-use phone and a phone case that somehow reminds me of both Grim and Pomefiore, courtesy of Rook. And, bonus: the touchscreen works through my gloves, so I can use it after class without taking them off and risking losing them.

Grim seems to like the charger more than the phone- naturally. He's a cat, the charger is a long thing that waves and dangles, that's what I figured would happen.

"No, Grim, don't bite that. Come on, let's put on our dorm uniforms and go find a nice stick to make a toy out of."

"Nice stick? How am I supposed to hold that?"

"You aren't. I have a piece of string to tie to it."

"So..."

"I can wave the stick around, and you can chase the string."

Grim's face lights up, and he magically changes into his dorm clothes without further instruction or prompting. I head into the closet.

The dorm uniform is incredibly comfy. The fabric is not only soft, but also tailored to fit me, and thermal in such a way that I'm never cold. I ought to wear this more.

When I reenter the room, Grim hops readily onto my shoulder. Off to find a toy, I suppose.

But, even as I search, something eats at me. It's nothing I don't recognize, but it's nothing I can just deal with- it's the knowledge that, out of all the people here, I am the only one with no magic.

Just knowing I've made it this far, so far, and I'm missing that one final thing- Grim wants to be a great sorcerer, so I either hold him back by keeping him with me 24/7, stick with him and watch as I pretend I'm okay with being so close to magic, and yet so far from having any of my own, or die.

I don't want to die. Not anymore. Not now, not when my death will actually hurt people. Not when there are people who will miss me and mourn me and wish I stayed. Not when my absence will open an unfillable hole in someone's heart.

I don't want anyone to feel that, because I've felt it myself, and it hurts. It hurts so much, like there's a part of you that's just void, and it's sucking the life out of you, bit by bit.

I felt that. For years, I felt that, killing me wholly and forcing me to live, day after night after miserable day, with no end in sight.

No. I won't die now. I'll wait until I've lost Grim and Vil and Rook and Epel and Korrak and Mandible and Deuce and Ace. I'll die when I'm just a distant memory of "one of our roomies in college," and "that classmate from my first year at Night Raven," and "the freshman with the flame-eared familiar."

I will die when I am nothing more than "that blurry memory of someone I knew and forgot."

"Monseur Mystery."

Rook's voice is soft, and tender, and worried, and caring, and kind. Kind. Kind, because he doesn't care about my lack of magic- he cares about me, the freshman with the flame-eared familiar. He cares about me, Monseur Mystery. He cares about me. Me, someone he knows and hasn't forgotten.

I needed that reminder. It's so quiet out here. My thoughts spiral and I can't stop it and there are tears streaming down my face, leaving little dark spots on Rook's dorm uniform.

I blink. Weren't we just on the ground? This ground is soft, like- oh, Rook moved us into a tree. I'm sitting on his thigh, not leaves. That makes sense.

No matter. With his arms wrapped around me and my arms wrapped around his waist, I am safe. That much, I know.

Grim is saying something. I hear his words, I know what they mean, but the dots go unconnected, and I take comfort in simply knowing he's here.

"Monseur Mystery, I hope you do not mind. Vil wishes to see you."

Vil. Another person to whom I am not just a distant, fading memory. Another person who cares about the freshman with the flame-eared familiar. Another person who cares about Yuu.

Rook is tapping on glass now. I am still crying, tears still running down my cheeks and into the fabric of Rook's uniform.

Another pair of strong arms wrap around me, pulling me into an embrace that's warm like the heat from a lit fireplace and strong like the house it's built into.

Secure. I feel secure here, held by two people who are, in some way, my parents, the first parents I've ever had, and never had, because, somehow, I still feel as though my life has yet to start. Like I've never been born, but I've died nonetheless.

Despite that, I feel safe and secure and loved, for the first time in what's not yet my life, but not the first, rather, just the most intense.

Back then, when Vil cut and brushed my hair, when I told them how I'd known Grim's name, I had tried to hold back my tears. I wasn't just sad, I was scared, scared this new world would be just as cruel as the last.

But, here, now, I let the sadness show in my sobs, in my sniffles, in my hiccups, in my tears.

For the first time, I am embracing sorrow, and I am nearly alive, closer than ever before.

The tears have stopped. The despair has lessened. The sadness has given way to joy. Faint joy, but joy nonetheless.

Vil is holding my face in his hands, meeting my eyes with violet irises filled with compassion, the likes of which is so intense I could never dream it.

"What's wrong? Why were you crying?"

I look away from him for only a moment, because that's all the time it takes for me to realize I crave his affection and the look in his eyes.

"All I need is magic," my voice is breaking, "and that's the one thing I don't have."

"You know," Grim pipes up, "remember the thing with the water glass? You said the ripples on the surface were because of the footsteps of the students walking in the hall."

"Well... yeah. That's what footsteps do."

"The footsteps of five people, all at least twenty meters away and trying to muffle their footsteps? On these solid floors?"

Wait. Grim has a point. Could those ripples have really been... me?

No. "There are a thousand things other that magic that could've caused that, Grim. Not all of them were there, sure, but only one had to be."

"Let me see your magestone." Vil's sudden request catches me off guard.

"Why?"

Vil just holds out his hand. "You'll see."

I hand him my magestone, and he holds it up to the light.

"Perhaps," he begins, "it is for the better that you know no spells."

The gem shines a beautiful black, all the way through- with the sole exception of three little lines of Pomefiore purple at the bottom that form a sort of upside-down trident head.

"Why is that, Vil?"

"Because," he smiles, "you would've overblotted by now if you used any magic."

"Overblotted?" For once, mine and Grim's voices are in total unison.

"Yes. Using too much magic, with no rest, causes blot buildup. But," he places my magestone back in my palm, "so do negative emotions."

"What are you?.."

"Do you know what blot requires, Yuu?"

"Uhh, nope."

Vil smiles, closing my fingers over my obsidianesque gem.

"Magic."

This is going to tie into two separate games: Twisted Wonderland and Project SEKAI. Trigger warnings: mentions of death, wanting to dissappear, abuse, manipulation, implied suicide. Jeez, that's a lot.

I'm going to talk about, specifically, Asahina Mafuyu (Yuki) and Riddle Rosehearts. There's a lot of similarities. It doesn't seem like that at first, but bear with me here.

In pjsk, we are first introduced to Mafuyu as a cheery, kind, agreeable, and helpful person. Her voice has emotion, but something's off. And you can't tell.

In contrast, the audience's first impression of Riddle is akin to that of a strict, controlling force, who opposes our poor prefect's shiny new friends.

And there's no way you'd think them alike if you don't look past that. If you skip all the stories and ignore Riddle's overblot and Mafuyu's trained card art. Because that's the point. It's not supposed to be obvious. You're supposed to view Mafuyu as "normal" and Riddle as "annoying" and never look closer.

Exept, you are supposed to look closer. You're supposed to squint at them and put them under a magnifying glass. And there's some genius in Mafuyu in particular- in pjsk, each group's main story starts with the group leader's backstory. Mafuyu is not a group leader. We don't start with a glimpse of her past. We start with her facade.

Mafuyu pretends. Her cheery face and higher-pitched voice are forced, and she is miserable. And when do we see that? When it's too late. When Mafuyu tries to dissappear into a world made of her emotions, a world so barren it's literally called "the Empty SEKAI."

Because Mafuyu doesn't know who she is. Because she's being abused. Riddle is in the same scenario.

Both of them have helicopter moms who try and control every aspect of their lives. Riddle's mom succeeded- and that's where their differences originate. Mafuyu rebels. She joined an anonymous online music group to vent and try and learn who she is without her mother's interference. Hell, she helped start it. That group started as two people, and she was one of them.

Riddle, on the other hand, gave in. He became an extension of his mother, of his abuser, and realizing that drove him to overblot. That desperation to emulate her was programmed into him by years of having no will of his own.

And yet, Mafuyu fought. She fought, and things got worse, and, as of writing this, her arc of escaping her abusive, overcontrolling household is Nightcord at 25:00(the music group she helped form)'s main arc, and it has yet to be resolved.

Mafuyu struggles. She doesn't know who she is. Her mother doesn't want her to learn, she wants her to be a perfect little honor student who becomes a doctor and studies all the time. Riddle's mom wanted that too, in a son- and she got it.

Riddle doesn't know who he is, either. After his overblot, he confesses: he never liked being an extension of his mother, but he suffered through it. He followed every rule, got every point, and he was in pain. In a way, he's lucky. At some point or another, that would've killed him.

And, when Riddle learned, he rebelled, too. Even before he knew, he fought because autonomy is critical to a child's healthy development, and they will always want to seek it eventually. He fought because he needed to. Otherwise, I doubt he'd've survived his freshman year at NRC. All those tarts, all forbidden... He'd've done what Mafuyu tried.

Riddle gave in. He gave in, and it killed him. He and Mafuyu are two sides of the same, ruined coin. One is being more actively molded and resisting, and the other only just became aware.

We see their development. In the Twilight Festa event, we see Mafuyu learn that she genuinely enjoys helping people. In book 2, we see Riddle run in the hallways to catch a rule-breaker. Riddle's progress is way subtler: he only just started trying to find himself. Mafuyu has a head start.

And... in a way, they're one and the same. They are lost bodies, searching for their souls. And I hope they both succeed.

In the end, they are both misfortunate children.

And, in a way, aren't we all?

You’ve come to the right person.

SPOILERS FOR CHAPTER 5 AND 6

Oh man Rook Hunt? He’s so mood, haha. One half of me really like him as a character because he’s so outlandish. Man practically worships Vil for his beauty, stalks students to know them, and loves a lot of things that other characters take for granted. Even though he is in Pomefiore, he focuses a lot more on others without neglecting himself.

If I was more over-the-moon for Rook, I would kin him completely… except for the stalking, since that is weird. I’ve been stalked before in real life and it isn’t fun, trust me.

Bbbuuutt this is fiction. We know the motives behind Rook’s attitude even though other characters don’t. He’s also extremely funny, lol. I find his sense of style and his actions very humorous, and that only adds to his charm. If he were real, I feel as if he and I would be able to talk about each others interests so genuinely. I’d also be able to joke with him well!

Spoilers ~~~~~~~~~~

This is a buffer sentence.

I also find the fact that he comes from Savanaclaw very interesting. It would explain why he’s so good at being a hunter in nature, and being Le Chasseur D’Armour (The Hunter of Love) for multiple interesting folks. It makes me wonder about the geographical and sociology that enables people from the Afterglow Savannah (Sunset Savanna for the EN folks) to be sensitive to sounds, sights, and smells.

After all, Rook isn’t a… what’s the name? He isn’t like Ruggie, Leona, or Jack, who have deeply interwoven animal traits. He’s human (I think), which makes his biological data more interesting.

Oh man, and when he went to the Island of Woe (IoW) to see how he could get Vil back to Night Raven College (NRC), he cleverly uses his social patterns to get in. I believe I looked him up on a website called TVTropes (a wonderful place to see all the tropes that different movies, series, and characters have. It’s an AMAZING website, I highly recommend taking a look), and it explained why he did what he did.

By disguising his real motive as wanting to give Vil his beauty products (so that he would continue being beautiful), he managed to get himself, Epel, and the MC into S.T.Y.X. His actions are so outlandish, but fitting to his character that Ortho and Idia capture them instead of eliminating them or whatever. It’s something only Rook would do.

And that is SO FASCINATING!

Chapter 5 was one of my least-liked chapters. However, it was still a catalyst to diving into Pomefiore as a whole. Rook usurps the expectations that the audience has for them, especially when dealing with Vil before his overblot. Man was going to DRINK that damn liquid that would have KILLED Neige to 1. Express how much he wanted to believe that Vil wouldn’t do such a thing and 2. So he can risk getting a taste for poisonous fruits.

Rook literally admires Vil’s beauty first before jumping to action upon the danger that his overblot indicates.

HE ADMIRES VIL’S OVERBLOT!

HOW CRAZY IS THIS MAN?!?!?

He also does ballet! SLAY KING ballet is SO HARD!

This is also a buffer sentence.

Spoilers End! ~~~~~~~~

I love seeing how Rook ticks, like how he loves seeing how others do. He would SO be either a psychologist or get into the beauty industry, if not into a job that enables him to ‘hunt’ others better. ROOK HAS SUCH A FLEXIBILITY TO HIM THAT IT DRIVES ME NUTS JUST THINKING ABOUT HOW COMPLEX HE IS!

Then there’s the other half.

It’s a lot more selfish and deeply connected to my desire to know and be known. It’s extremely hard for me to trust people (especially in our day and age) because the world is so corrupted. My mother would tell me about how children would run in the streets unattended because they were safe. Parents would take care of kids from different families. They let them walk lengths to school without worry.

But it’s so distrustful now.

You don’t see children running around anymore in droves. Lots of people don’t show care for others anymore (not only because they might not care, but if they do care, it’ll be seen as creepy). I go walk alone in DAYTIME and fear that a car might hit me, or I’ll get assaulted somehow. I can’t even fully trust my own friends and family because you just never know what they might do.

I can’t even think about getting into dating because if I don’t balance taking it seriously and feeling the emotions, I’ll most definitely be taken advantage of. The idea of a partner is exciting, but thinking about how it might apply to me is terrifying. I wouldn’t be able to do it.

Which is why I feel so close to Rook, both as someone I would be and as a character.

As a fictional character that I hyperfixiated on, I know a LOT about him and his motives. I can predict how he would be. I don’t know his entire history or syllabus, or what his next action might be sometimes, but I know and love Rook for everything that he is.

The best part is that he would most likely do the same for me, just because of how he acts generally. He would desire to KNOW me like I know him now.

I could see Rook gathering so much intel on me that it’s not funny. He would see how I act, and why I act the way I do. He’d know what I like to do, what I don’t. He’d know what gifts to get me, know what I would need, even before I tell him.

He’d be such a great friend, and if it comes down to it, an even lovelier boyfriend. We share the same desire to know, and sharing those interests together is… it reaches into my very being and pulls something out.

We both admire beauty in things that others might not see. We’d both admire the clouds in the sky. We could both people-watch together to pick apart what makes people who they are. We’d write poems and fawn about the structure of them, the diction. Maybe he’d teach me about makeup, or I could teach him about origami.

I desire to know about him. I desire to be known. Knowing Rook, he would share that same deep desire to see, to think, and to know.

If there’s anyone that I could even fathom trusting with my life, it would be Rook. Sharing each other’s personalities and needs in a way that I don’t have to worry about in real life.

TLDR: Rook is a fascinating character. He has a kooky personality, funny attitude-style, and very interesting history. There’s a lot of traits he has that, when they come together, makes Rook a fascinating character to study. He’s complex. I both relate to him and want to be with him because of who he is.

And those are my thoughts on Rook Hunt.

Now, let me turn that question onto you, @mentallyshattered. Who is one of your favorite characters? What are your thoughts on them?

If y’all want to rant about a character too, feel free! This isn’t only for Shattered.

When I was a tiny child, I had diarrhea. Nobody knew exactly why, only that it was a food allergy. Other people often didn't buy it- gluten, soy, and dairy? Preposterous!

Truth is, I wasn't allergic to all of them. The goal was to cut them all from my five-or-so-year-old diet and reintroduce them, one by one, until I started having issues again. An elimination diet. Still, I had to check the ingredients of everything I could- adding just one allergen could force my parents and doctor to restart that part. If someone offered me food, I asked questions. I was a small child, and I had to police my diet against adults like I was preventing a murder.

I wasn't, of course. It wasn't fatal, and I'd hoped that, after figuring out what exactly was the issue, it would be easier. People would just... find safe foods to give me instead.

To some extent, I was right. Once we pinned down that it was a dairy allergy, I only had one thing to look out for- dairy. No cow's milk, no cheese, no butter, and no problem.

Unfortunately, I misjudged. There were a lot of cases where I was given dairy anyway. It was bad. My parents wanted to know if I was okay. I was taken to a hospital. The damage was done. I couldn't even feel my bowels.

It was bad enough that I ended up developing my favorite coping mechanism, which I still use: Maladaptive Daydreaming Disorder (MADD). I couldn't leave physically, so I left mentally.

I was lucky. We caught it early, and I outgrew it. I outgrew it because I was vigilant and diligent enough to avoid what I couldn't and shouldn't have eaten.

If it weren't for that, People like this would have permanently fucked me up more, because they already did. They fucked me up bad enough that I spend about half my time completely zoned.

So, yeah. Food workers: Your job is not giving people what you think they want. Your job is giving people what they order. You fail, they die. Take it seriously.

DO NOT DO THIS.

This makes me so angry.

If you work in a movie theater and you do this I have no respect for you.

My younger brother is Type 1 Diabetic.

When we go to a movie theater, we always get him diet soda. If he were to get regular when we asked for diet, we would not give him the insulin he would need for it. If that happens, his blood sugar level could go so high he could go into a coma, go blind, or even die.

If somebody gave him regular soda instead of diet without telling us, that person could be responsible for a nine-year-old being killed or blinded.

Just thinking about that makes me so angry. I get scared every time we take him to a movie in case the people working there saw this picture and decide to do the same thing.

Please signal boost this so people know.

TW: venting about my whole ass panic attack. So yeah

So I'm literally in tears rn. My acne flared up really bad. My nose is to big. My lips are too small. My hair just won't work with me. I may be skinny isn't good when your face looks like God hit you 1000000000000000000000x with the ugly stick.

My brother decided to say, "It's not that bad. Why are you upset?"

Easy to say when you have every female in the world falling at your feet.

Like all my siblings got the attractive gene & my genes decided I'd be the ugly one.

My teeth are messed up to. Not lined up, under bite. Got scars lining my body so that's another flaw to add.

Why would anyone decide to date me.

The guy I was dating kill himself. I would to if I was dating me.

He didn't even leave my ugly ass a note. Such a shame ig.

Got ADHD, Bipolar, ODD, Generalized Anxiety, Depression, PTSD, & now possibly falling on the Autism spectrum.

Ugly af

Annoying af

Always fall in everyone's shadows. Only this person's younger sister or this persons older sister maybe this other person's daughter.

Can't even make a name for myself. Sometimes I wish I'd disappear. I was suppose to have a twin. If she made it maybe it'd be better.

School is stressing me out. I somehow passed last year. Kind of tired.

I'm just tired.

No matter how hard I try or how hard I work. Nothing will ever be enough.

Not for me, my mum, my siblings, my friends, my teachers, no one. I'm never enough.

I have a panic attack my mum decides the cry.

What gives her the right. She looks great. She's witty, kind, independent, knows what she wants. So why is she crying. Literally nothing happened.

You're crying cause I'm upset & making everyone else upset. Literally not my fault I'm having a panic attack while looking in the mirror.

Hell now I've started starving myself. Afraid of weight gain ig

I lie. Say how cool my family is. How I don't care whether I am skinny or not. Lie that I'm not ugly or pretty. I lie. Straight through my teeth.

I pretend my life is so great.

No.

I never have been close with my mum. I've always wanted to. Seems everytime I start to I get pushed back.

My mother is proud of all my other siblings.

I gave up on art. I was like 12 or 13. I went to show my mother a drawing.

My mother told me to shut up as my older brother & sister were gonna sing. She couldn't even wait one second to take a glance.

When she decided to look. After praising her oh so talented children. She just said my drawing was cool.

I flushed that drawing down the toilet.

I've decided that I'll just not try.

I'm 16 atm. I try to impress my mother. Be a oh so good kid.

Never one glance.

Where did I go wrong.

My ex boyfriend gave me hope. Maybe someone could love me. Someone could find a way to look past all my flaws & see some beauty that I just couldn't see.

But the rope he hung from could say different.

No goodbye, no letter. Nothing.

Last words were him breaking up with me in a group chat without notifying me .

Having to find out through someone he hates.

Someone who he despises knew.

Then when I joined. He just ridiculed me. Put me down. Kept saying cruel words. Just to break up. Then leave this world.

I know I wasn't the cause. That his world came to an end. But why?

I've only ever looked at the bright side. Wanted to help others. Sit by those who hurt. Helping others gave me purpose. Hope that maybe I one day could.

My mother's name is Hope though. Even she couldn't believe in me. How ironic. The woman who gave birth to me is named Hope. Yet any hope she could've had in me never met my eyes.

I would leave the world as well. I guess I just like the challenge. Tried to leave a couple times. Each one a fail. For 6 minutes & few seconds. My heart stopped. I was at peace. Then my heart decides to beat again. Body decides to work again.

October 23rd 2018. Was my near death experience. Was great honestly. Sadly death just won't take me. No matter how much I've tried. Even death doesn't want me.

How ironic. Death takes everyone. Yet not me.

Take people I care about. Not me though.

I gave up on attempting suicide. Never leads me to death.

I just kind of exist now.

Mother won't let me get a job. Won't let me pierce even my ears.

She says she cares yet victim cards Trump all.

I weirdly love my family though.

My mother saved me from going to foster care. Plus my father was abusive. The memories that'll never leave haven't grown because of her.

Yet it seems I really was just part of the package.

To care for any of the others. I was just the con.

She showed up to my football practice in 8th grade.

She looked so proud & congratulated me on knocking guys 10x my height down. For once she was proud.

One of my matches she showed up to. I was knocked down by a kid. Are team lost. Any hope she had in me. I could see disappear.

She lectured me after. Saying how I could've done better.

I quit the team. Coach said that I shouldn't. It just wasn't as full filing when the person who gives birth to you. Well the one you spend all your time trying to make proud. Look at you with cold eyes.

I had a choir concert not even a year ago. I did the whole thing. Hoping maybe she walk in. See that I was overcoming my fear of singing on stage.

She texted me once I was done. She waited outside the entire time.

Didn't take the time to come in. I thought maybe she was doing something. Shopping or riding around. No. She just sat in the parking lot.

It hurts. I lost my childhood. Lost someone I loved. Lost any hope of my mum being proud. Lost my pride. Lost any love for myself. Lost any meaning for my life.

I've given up. Won't kill myself.

Wouldn't give myself the satisfaction. Plus I've tried to many times. Shot my shot. Missed everyone besides one that I rimmed & missed.

Guess I'll live just to survive. Then die peacefully in life.

Maybe I'll die saving someone. That'd be good to. Be remembered as someone who saved someone .

Well thx for reading ig

to have or not to have a love like this…

it’s a tragedy either way. loving someone, truly, unconditionally, is not for the faint hearted ones.

i hope the ones who have found it, got to keep theirs.

it’s 5 in the evening, and i just smiled at a concerned old lady like this piece did not rip a hole through me.

why do i do this to myself?

When She Loved Me

[Summary]: How does one live when life is bound to end? 

[Theme]: Terminally Ill Reader, Non Idol AU, CEO Jungkook AU, Engaged AU, Married AU

[Rating]: 18+ for sexual themes and innuendoes, a truly heart wrenching piece. Please read with caution and with full intent to break your own heart. 

[Word Count]: 11,265

[A/N]: I truly broke my soul with this one. If you really want to cry, listen to my muse for this piece: “When She Loved Me” by Sarah McClain (yes, the one from Toy Story) or “Stuff We Did” by Michael Gaicchino (from UP)

[Materialist]

Keep reading

they deserved better. somewhere, in an alternate universe, they are ruling the queendom side by side, with no love lost. they’re gentle, they are supportive, and kind to each other. they have all kinds of soft things at their disposal bc that’s how their love is. soft. pure. and incredibly easy.

i have died - p.jm.

genre: angst, mild fluff (7.1k) royal au! (mentions of blood, fighting and all information might not be accurate to history.)

summary: jimin knows his queen has a heart, he's known it since he set eyes on her, even if rumours whispered that she was cold, calculated, merciless, jimin held on, his queen had a heart.

masterlist

-

to be a queen, was to be powerful, they said.

it was to be graceful yet stern, commanding but caring, soft but strong, beautiful but not so much, that it took away from your strength.

to be a queen, was to be miserable, you said.

you sat on your throne, with the burden of the world on your shoulders and not a touch from someone else to cure it or take it away. your arms stayed firmly on your lap as you tried to concentrate on your advisor’s words.

“war is upon us, your majesty, everyone’s saying it.” he gestured to the court filled with old men, greedy old men who were waiting for you to slip up.

“on what basis, did you make this conclusion?” you tried to stay calm, even if a shiver went down your spine and your hands started sweating.

you knew war was going to descend on your kingdom any day now, your parents warned out about it when you were still a kid, you had been preparing for this your whole life, but it didn’t stop the nightmares, chills, or fear. war would devastate your kingdom, it would run your people and resources dry and as the queen, you were expected to stop this devastation.

“do you not see what is happening in your kingdom, your majesty?” one of the old men sneered at you as their hands tweaked their mustaches and your patience almost gave out.

beside you, your general, park jimin, tightened his hand on his sword, ready to slay the man on your command. you lift a hand in his direction, showing a sliver of your patience, and he brings his hand back down.

“i do know about the riots and the grains,” you started, leaning forward, “i also know about the affairs.” you stared pointedly at the old man, whose eyebrow started sweating as you stood up.

“be careful with how you speak to me, or i will not hesitate to tie you up and throw you in the middle of a bloody riot.” you stormed out of the room with park jimin hot on your tail, concealing his smile and an audible hush resounded around you as you walked out to the barren land.

you weren’t known as the heartless queen for no reason, you were merciless, with whomever you deemed deserved to be treated that way and you knew it wasn’t fair, but as a queen, you could care less about being fair.

“should i ready the swords, your majesty?” jimin spoke and you nodded, turning and disappearing into a room to change. you hastily undid the layers of clothing you wore, feeling more and more air enter your chest as you stood naked in front of the long mirror covering the wall.

scars from many wars ago littered your chest, thighs, and arms, you wanted to pile on all the layers of your clothing back on your beaten body.

you pushed the layers away instead, a queen shouldn’t worry about battle scars, she should celebrate them. you got your armor and boots on, feeling better when everything was covered, and stepped out.

but a sight made you stop in your tracks.

across the practice field, were two lovers, oblivious to the world, hiding away from the world under a sheer curtain, the women were holding back their smiles as they stroked each other’s cheeks, leaning into each other but leaning away, as if a magnetic pushed them close and far. one of them reached out and kissed the other’s cheek, your hand instinctively reached to your cheek, unconsciously patting the area.

never a kiss.

never has a kiss ever touched your skin.

never has a touch from someone you loved, left a ghost on your skin, like your scars did.

across the practice field, jimin’s worried eyes saw your hands stroking your cheeks, his gaze followed your line of sight to see the poorly concealed lovers, his heart twisted as he watched you push your hands away and a grimace fell on your face. jimin had never seen a smile on his queen’s face but with the role you had, he knew you didn’t have much to smile about.

“your majesty, they are ready!” he yelled, capturing your attention, away from the lovers who brought tears to your eyes. your eyes snapped to his and the vulnerability disappeared, a hardness settled in them again and jimin wished that he let you stay lost in your vulnerability for a little more.

you grabbed your sword and protective gear, struggling to put on the headpiece as you always did, jimin stepped up and snapped it into place, it was the only thing you let him do for you.

and jimin looked forward to it every day.

you fell into a rhythm, jimin was a formidable opponent, never letting you be distracted for too long, which was relieving. the sounds of swords clanging, boots kicking the sand up, and heavy breathing drowned out everything else for you.

your eyes stayed laser-focused on jimin’s movements, they were natural, clean, and sharp, and so were his father’s.

you had known jimin your whole life when he was still just a kid and learning from his father, who was your father’s general, when he followed his mom around, who followed your mum around.

his parents weren’t alive now, nor were yours.

someday, you were ten years old, your parents had left for another town and never returned, and you had to be a queen while still not understanding what death was and why it had taken your parents, jimin’s parents protected you until an unknown disease took the two of them as well.

jimin’s sword hit yours, bringing you back to the present, where you had no one to love nor protect but jimin did, jimin always knew he would protect you.

you swung back, twisting your leg to bend and hit the armor covering his stomach, he recoiled at the contact and you smirked underneath your headgear. this continued, you played the dance of defense and offense, and soon, you ripped the headpiece to force some air into your body.

“i’ll be going now.” you walked out, without looking back and jimin nodded, dropping his sword, wordlessly watching you leave.

somewhere, between being a queen while still being a child and losing everyone you loved, you had forgotten to care for another person, and between protecting you since he was a teenager and losing everyone he loved, jimin had only grown more determined to care with all the heart in him.

that was the difference between you and jimin, you lost your heart and he gained a second one. and naturally, you two never spoke anymore but jimin had always wanted to tell you about his second heart, that it beat for you, even if it meant that his head would be at the end of your sword.

-

the talk of war kept spreading throughout the kingdom and your palace became louder, so did your heartbeat in your ears, so did your sword hitting jimin’s, and so did your internal cries for help.

you marked the map as you circled it, checking entries, exits, and secret pathways that could leave you vulnerable to the enemies.

“seal the exits, don’t allow goods transport till the next week, we will put up announcements when it can be resumed, station two guards at every secret route and give them our best guns, station one guard at each entry and exit, make sure meals reach them from time-to-time and distribute palace supplies to the people, without good transport, they won’t be making money” commands flowed easily out of you, you took every advisor’s bullshit advice and decided to ignore it at all, you came up with the most efficient plan you could.

“should we seal them tonight, your majesty?” jimin stepped forward and you nodded, “tonight would be best, we have to protect ourselves before we regret it. and later, i need to discuss battle strategies with you, keep that in mind.” jimin bowed to you and stepped back as the advisors argued with you.

he watched with a smirk as you calmly explained how miserable their plans were, he watched as you put all of them in their places and left the room, leaving the air of your power lingering in the room.

“she’s just as arrogant as her father” the same old man who had questioned your knowledge of the kingdom in the court, turns his nose up with a nasty sneer on his face. jimin feels his skin start to burn in anger when he hears the noises of agreement from the others.

“she’s even worse, at least her father was a capable ruler, she’s just arrogant and nothing else,” another one adds with a smirk, and everyone laughs at the comment, jimin wonders how you hold onto your patience with these men.

“she’s not even beautiful enough to be arrogant, did you see the scars covering her arms? no wonder she isn’t married” they continued to add snide comments, sipping their drinks and doing everything but be the advisors they are.

a slam on the wooden table startles them all, liquid jumping out of their cups and onto the floors, they all turn to see jimin’s eyes burning holes into them as his hands twitch on the table.

“one more word about our queen and i will personally wield the sword that chops your necks off.” jimin says calmly, though his fury is poorly contained. the advisors quirked an eyebrow at him, “who do you think you are? you are a general, not the queen’s lapdog, behave.”

another one piped up to reprimand him, “you are no one to lay a hand on any of us, learn your place, or we will make you.”

a dark chuckle bubbled out of jimin as he quickly realized if given the chance, he would take the lives of everyone in this room in a heartbeat, “my place is to serve her, so if i ever lay a hand on you, it wouldn’t be for me, it would be for my queen.”

the advisors grew wide-eyed at the storm-like fury that brewed in jimin’s eyes as he stared at them, jimin was known to be kind, friendly, and sweet around the court, but seeing him this way, had them all clearing their throats and looking away as a sheen of fear covered their faces, their eyes flickered from jimin to the sword that rested on his hips.

it would only take him a minute to kill them all and that knowledge had all of them gulping for air.

outside the room, you held your hand to your chest as a long breath released out of you, you never left since you heard the first comment from your advisors and even if it wasn’t supposed to hurt you, it did.

and you knew jimin didn’t have to say anything, you knew he could’ve just left the room, this was the first time anyone had ever stood beside you and not against you.

jimin opened the doors to see you beside them, eyes gazing up at him with concealed fondness, your face stayed cold and distant but jimin noticed the tiniest curve of your lips.

he remembers how you used to smile as a kid, wide and with teeth, dimples curved in as you ran around the palace, having your maids chase you around, he remembers the first time you had talked to him.

“get the swords ready, general.” you rush out of the area, leaving jimin a little startled but without another word, he follows you.

-

the sounds of your swords clanging brought you peace, as your chest slowly started to loosen up, though you had to admit that your focus wasn’t great, your eyes kept flickering to catch glimpses of jimin, hidden under his protective gear and your mouth kept opening to say something.

“you didn’t have to stand up to them, park jimin” you muttered, just loud enough for jimin to hear and his movements paused.

so, you had heard.

he was wishing that you hadn’t.

“i know, your majesty.” his arms lifted his sword again, but dropped it as soon as your sword hit the ground.

“then, why would you do it?” you hated the tremor in your voice, it was so unlike you, so unlike a queen.

“i don’t know, but i can’t think of anything else i would’ve done at the moment,” he removed his headpiece to see you, to see what you felt about his words.

you nodded with uncertainty, you expected him to say that as your general, it was his duty to defend you, you hadn’t expected anything more than that.

“i appreciate it,” you said breathily and jimin nodded back, his cheeks attaining a flush from both the cold wind gushing around you and also from your words.

i would do it again, by the way, even if my life is on the line.

he felt the urge to tell you as you turned away but then his eyes caught the royal emblem etched on your armor and he swallowed his words.

“i wasn’t always like this, general, i think you know that.” tears, that you couldn’t stop, lined your eyes as you thought back to the child that you were and the world that you had to grow up in, and jimin felt his chest fill with sorrow because he knew so well, knew more than you thought he did. “i know, your majesty, i know.”

you straightened your shoulders, any trace of vulnerability escaping your body as your advisors passed the field, all of their eyes analyzing and judging you.

“we still have to discuss those strategies, come.”

-

the rest of the night, you went over your defenses again and again, eyes catching fleetingly, accidentally, and then returning to the table with flushed cheeks, jimin was delighted to be so close, yet so far, from you.

and each time, your eyes met, you felt your heart beating again, you felt yourself wanting to say things that had nothing to do with the maps spread out in front of you.

“we knew each other before all this, didn’t we, park jimin?” before you became a queen, before you owned a kingdom, jimin was present in your distant memory, “you gave me flowers.” he smiled at you, images of your younger self flashing brightly in his mind.

“no! that can’t be true, general” a smile of disbelief curved on your face, you never looked at flowers, you couldn’t imagine any part of you that would gift someone flowers.

“oh, but you did, your majesty” jimin cheekily replied, making you shake your head and look away from him, trying to remember a time when you weren’t a queen.

but jimin remembers too clearly, how you had met, how your hands touched him for the first time, when it was all innocence and warmth.

it had been a hot, summer day.

jimin’s mother was busier than usual. it was the princess’s birthday and the entire palace was geared up to celebrate it grandly.

but jimin wasn’t happy at all. his eyes were hurting from the tears he had cried, his cheeks were firing up with heat as his body burned.

he was sicker than he had ever been and his mother couldn’t take care of him, her own eyes were filled with tears that she couldn’t take care of her child but she had duties to fulfill.

jimin sat in the garden, sniffling and pulling grass, refusing to listen to his mother’s request to stay inside as his cheeks puffed up with defiance.

then, he heard soft giggles falling from the corridors into the lonely garden.

he turned to see the princess, her hand in the queen’s, her other hand gripping tightly onto freshly picked jasmines, as she walked merrily, it was her birthday after all. and even as a kid, jimin couldn’t look away from the princess.

she was a joy to see, a joy to hear.

when the princess turned to look at him, to look at sad, pouty jimin, sitting by himself, picking the grass with tear-stained cheeks, jimin wouldn’t have guessed that she would run over to him. he wouldn’t have guessed that she would take the jasmines in her hand and place them above his ears.

“flowers are happy, you should be happy.” you had told him, with a dimpled smile, staring at him for a few seconds before running back to your mother, but he watched as you looked back at him till you left the corridor.

jimin felt the traces of love bloom in his heart for the first time.

now, he sees you, so tough and powerful and as his queen, but he remembers too well how you used to be and jimin fell for you then, unfortunately for him, he hadn’t gotten back up.

at some point in the night, the sleeves on your dress ride up and your eyes widen as you push them back down, you hurriedly look up to see if jimin has seen anything, you wait to see if his face twisted in disgust, but jimin only smiles, “you are so strong, your majesty. i wish i was more like you.”

he doesn’t speak about your tears.

or your scars.

or the fear on your face.

you know that he notices it all, but he doesn’t say a word.

you didn’t know that even if you weren’t the queen of the kingdom, you would still be jimin’s queen, hot or cold, kind or ruthless, heart or heartless, nothing could change that.

and jimin might have felt it when he was still a kid, but this was the first time, that something bloomed in your heart, you weren’t sure it was love, you were just sure that it was because of him.

-

weeks later, your kingdom was sealed, business halted and time as it was, didn’t move as you and your people prepared for the war.

tensions were high, and the kingdom got quieter as everyone waited for any news about their fate, you spent every minute with jimin, formulating and discussing plans that could bring you even a sliver of hope, and every minute, your heart unwillingly grew sprouts and flowers.

“hand over the kingdom to us and there will be no blood staining your land or else, your entire kingdom will drown.” your minister read the last sentence of the letter that was sent over to you that morning and you tried to resist the chill crawling on your back.

but you knew who it was from, a much more prosperous kingdom, a much more powerful kingdom with a king, not a queen, not like your weak kingdom.

you were powerful and you have won many wars but your opponent has colonized several countries at a time so realistically, your chances of surviving his quest were slim to none.

jimin eyed your tightening fists with a glint of worry and concern as your minister hung his head, solemn from the words he just read, “what do we say, your majesty?”

you knew the gravity of your decision here, you could either abandon your land and people, hand them over to a stranger, and not look back, because you knew even if you fought back, you would be weaker, you would lose.

but you also couldn’t turn your back on your people, your father and mother wouldn’t have done that, they wouldn’t have handed your people over, and they would have fought with everything they had.

sometimes, you just wish they would be beside you, gently guiding and firmly telling you what to do. sometimes, you wanted to crawl on your mother’s lap and cry until you couldn’t, sometimes, you just wanted your father’s hand on your head, telling you to be brave.

but your wishes remained wishes, hard decisions had to be solely made by you, whether you liked it or not.

“tell them, they will be the ones drowning, not us.” you feigned the confidence you knew your court needed, and seeing everyone’s face light up as their loud cheers echoed in your court, made it easy for you to say it, even if you knew it wasn’t true.

you would drown.

and never float back up.

all because you couldn’t be the queen your people needed.

you told yourself, that it was justified to give false hope to people whose hope was weathering, it was justified to lie to your court while knowing it would be gone in flames later, it was justified to fake your power for the flicker of relief that passed over their faces.

but jimin’s eyes stayed on your knuckles that turned white, your eyes that seemed dazed and he knew you were lying, his hand rested on his sword as he realized that the cheering people, were all waiting for their deaths.

-

“your majesty, a moment of your time.” jimin stayed outside the door until he heard your voice, allowing him in. you were sitting at the edge of your cot, chest heavy and breathing caught in your body.

“forgive me, your majesty, but you and i both know that you were lying.” he spoke, with confusion lacing his voice, you were always honest, you never lied for the sake of making someone feel better. “about what, general?” he didn’t recognize the strange, lifeless tone your voice had taken.

“that we are going to survive the quest.” jimin knew as much as you did, that your kingdom would be run to the ground, even if he thought you were the strongest of them all, he knew your kingdom would fall.

“we are going to survive it,” you lied through your teeth.

“we’re all going to die” jimin didn’t know why he was arguing with you, but he couldn’t help it, this was the first time his queen had lied and he needed to know why.

“oh general, i have died a long time ago” you laughed bitterly, your stomach twisting at your words, you felt sick, trapped in yourself, trapped in this palace that gave you all of the power but none of the relief that came with love. his gaze softened as, for the first time, tears flowed down your face like a river, as sobs escaped your chest without restraint, as you sunk to the floor with your hands tightly wrung the bedding.

you had died the day your parents didn’t come back, you had died when they placed a heavy crown on your tiny head as a kid, you had died when the sprinkle of someone else’s blood fell on your face, you had died when the people you fought for called you heartless.

you had died more times than you could count, one more time, even if it was for real this time, didn’t shake you at all.

it was dying without a touch of love decorating your skin, that truly scared you. you wished for a touch that wouldn’t unravel you but would hold you together, the way even a riptide, as dangerous as it is, longs for a shore to embrace, you want just a touch.

jimin should leave, his duty wasn’t this, his duty wasn’t to console a broken queen but jimin never stayed by your side as a duty, he stayed because it was where he belonged.

jimin sunk to his knees, his hands trembling to touch you, to let you lay on him and let years of your tears run down his chest, but he doesn’t want to be at the end of your sword, he wants to be at the end of your bed, watching you while you sleep and protecting you from the nightmares that plague you.

and then you surprise him.

jimin’s breath halts as he watches you reach for him, one frail hand in the air that beckons him closer and he follows wordlessly, sitting beside you and watching as your head finds his lap. you melt into his lap, fingers falling away from your body to hug his legs, a soft hum leaves your lips and jimin’s urge to protect you increases exponentially.

it's been a while since he has seen his queen be herself, and he knows as you grasp onto him for affection, that this was you finally giving up on maintaining an image, at least in front of him.

he slowly places a hand on your back, unsure if he was allowed to touch you the way you touched him, but you only bury your tear-stained cheeks into his legs and jimin relaxes, letting his hands travel on your back, his hands burned with love as he rubbed circles on your skin that coaxed more cries out of you, but this time, they weren’t out of pain, they were out of the relief of finally being touched with love.

“jimin,” you called out, so softly even if your voice dried out from the tears, so intimately that jimin wanted to curl up to you and forget everything else, “yes?”

no general.

no park jimin.

just jimin.

“i didn’t lie because i wanted to, the kingdom will die long before the war gets here, if i don’t lie, they need to hold onto something as we go into the war, they need to believe that they can survive to even fight.” and jimin sees it, the heart that your people denied that you had, you had thought of them before anything else and he smiles to the ceiling.

“after everything goes, you will be remembered as the greatest ruler our kingdom has ever seen,” he speaks sincerely, as his hands caress the lengths of your hair, which lulls you, your heart warms but you know it wasn’t true, “no one would remember me.”

“i would, in death and life, i will.”

you hadn’t expected to be satisfied with his answer but somehow, that was more than enough of you.

you always wished for a touch to make you feel loved, to make you feel anything but jimin’s words alone held you together and for the first time, you bore a heart that was heavier than you were, a heart that dragged you down, pulled you down and forced you to accept its size.

and you loved the enormity of affection you felt, especially that it was for the man who held you so gently even if he had seen you at your strongest.

“your majesty, i have a confession.”

“i think i know what you are going to say,” you might not have cared for other people, but you did notice things, you noticed the lingering looks jimin would give you, the smile that would grow on his face whenever you put your advisors in their place, the way his tone changed to something softer only when he talked to you, you had noticed it all.

you felt the same, maybe not as long as he had, but melted against him, you knew you wouldn’t feel this way for anyone else, except the person who stood by and protected you for so long.

“but if you allow me, i still want to say it.” you peered up from his lap with an amused smile, your general was more romantic than you had thought him to be, and jimin hadn’t thought your smile could be any more beautiful than it was in his dreams, but it was.

“you are allowed,” you face him, cheeks flushing and hands trapping his, “i love you, i’ve loved you since i knew what love was.”

you were only just learning love, as your skin touched his, as you sunk further into him, as you felt cocooned by his presence, as you felt his unwavering love for you through his touch but even if it was just now, you knew you felt the same.

but you couldn’t bring yourself to say the words, as a queen, were you allowed to profess love for someone else? with a war approaching, did you deserve to love as your kingdom ran to devastation?

you couldn’t say it, you couldn’t allow yourself the luxury.

you just nudged further into jimin’s body, squeezing his hand as a silent way of professing, ‘i feel the same, in my heart that’s beating after a long time, i feel what you do and i will tell you, i will tell you soon.’

jimin sighs in relief, his skin growing warm as your hands desperately try to tell him what your mouth can’t and he allows his body to drape over you, hands caressing your dress and brushing your hair away from your cheeks.

“i understand, my queen, i will wait.”

-

that night, everything changed for you, you had felt so defeated before the war even started but here you were, days later, hitting swords with jimin once again, a new kind of determination drummed in your attacks, you had to win the war, you had to be with jimin.

“your majesty, i’m afraid you are getting distracted,” jimin teases you as his sword nears your throat, with an amused scoff, you pull back to drag your sword on the ground and drive it up to the back of his head, “apparently, not as much as you, general.”

you both spent every quiet night together, in each other’s arms, in each other’s words and he professed his love to you every single day, even if you didn’t say it back, and he reminded you that your heart hadn’t died, it had just hidden away, but he certainly had wedged himself into it and it seemed to you that he would never leave.

jimin raises his sword in surrender, a chuckle leaving his lips once he sees you grin widely at his defeat.

“you are enjoying this too much,” he tuts at you, “i’m still your queen, jimin” you playfully scold him and he rolls his eyes at you, “and i’m still your general, your majesty.” he tips his invisible hat with a shit-eating grin and leaves you, flustered in the middle of the ground as he walks away to greet some new members of the army.

what was this feeling that consumed you, as your eyes refused to look away from his retracting figure?

a fluttering sense of calm danced around you, your usually restless heart had taken a steady, loud rhythm and you loved the world right now.

you felt as if everything was alright, as if the skies were always blue, as if the flowers always bloomed, as if you could fight a war and win it, just to keep this moment alive.

“your majesty!” a shrill voice broke your dreamy thoughts, and your head snapped to see your minister rushing down the hallway to reach you. you hold your arms over his shoulders to steady him as he breathes heavily.

“careful, minister.” he shook his head at your words, eyes pinching shut as he panted.

“they’ve gotten in, your majesty.”

and just like that, the feeling of victory faded from you.

“what are you talking about?” you couldn’t recognize how tight your voice sounded, how your hands twitched involuntarily to your sword, and how the air in your chest knocked out of you.

not now.

not so soon.

“we sealed every exit, minister, that is not possible” you desperately tried to dissuade what he was trying to tell you, he solemnly shook his head, “one of our own turned on us, they gave them entry into our kingdom, and several civilians were beheaded just a few minutes.”

your blood boiled.

for a minute, your eyes saw complete red as your hands shook beside your body, “how many, minister?” your voice didn’t contain your fury, nor your heartbreak.

“hundred and twelve, as of now, your majesty.”

in that minute, you knew you could slay an entire kingdom if you wanted to, you knew that if you were let loose, not a single soldier would be able to keep up with you. your people were supposed to be the last ones to get hurt, you were supposed to be protecting them and you failed.

“i’m assuming, the traitor has been caught?”

“yes, your majesty.” your minister’s eyes widened in fear as you pulled your sword out, “show him to me.”

-

that night, you scrubbed someone else’s blood off your face, and frustrated tears lined your eyes but the red never seemed to disappear, as you kept washing, more and more took its place, and soon, you gave up on getting it off, you had to accept that a part of you will always be stained with their blood.

the blood served as a reminder of the people you couldn’t save.

you had spent the evening, preparing for the war that would start tomorrow, it was finally declared by your opponent in another mocking letter, and providing aid to the families who lost their loved ones, each of their cries rang loudly in your ears even if hours passed.

water droplets dripped down your face as you sat once again, defeated before the war began, at the edge of your bed, but this time, a knock at your door filled you with relief.

jimin came in, exhausted as well, but his eyes zeroed on the red covering your arms and face, without a word, he took a washcloth, dipped it in water, and sat beside you.

his fingers nudged your hair away from your face and slowly, patiently, patted the blood away, shushing you as you broke down in tears in the middle.

that night ended in jimin’s arms, with a clean face and a lighter heart.

both of you didn’t know what would happen the next day, you just knew that you had to survive for each other.

-

“line up!” jimin’s yell filled the courtyard and all the soldiers jogged across it to surround him, “you all are aware, going in today, of the severity of the situation and what it could lead to, but i trust that my soldiers will still give their best, we all have homes to return to, keep that in mind. let it serve as a motivation for you to win this, help your fellow soldiers, and keep your focus.”

all of them were nervous, all of them had left home saying their final goodbyes to their families in case they never returned, but all of them also believed in their general and his words, rapid nods came as a response from them and they started preparing themselves mentally.

jimin gestured for them to move along and they all started embracing each other, comforting words poured into the space and they soon moved away to disperse.

in your changing room, your hands slid down the scars that covered you, after today, you were sure there were going to be even more, but somehow, you didn’t mind it as much. your maids placed the armor on you, tightening it around your body and you bit back a groan.

you didn’t know how many more of these wars you could fight.

suddenly, they all shuffled away, leaving the room, causing you to turn around, confused at their actions, only to see jimin entering the room.

“i don’t know why they ran away,” he said with comically raised eyebrows and you bit back a grin, “i’m sure they must have seen you leave my quarters in the morning.” his head fell back with a laugh as he stepped closer to you.

“that can’t be, i’m so discreet, like a ninja, you know?” you rolled your eyes at him, “you broke three vases just two days ago, jimin.” he kissed your temple as another laugh bubbled out of him, “maybe i’ll learn along the way.”

“maybe you will.”

you sighed as both of your smiles slipped, there was no telling if there was a way anymore but believing that there was, it was all you could do.

“how are the soldiers?” your eyes bore into his similar, armor-clad body that came up behind you in the mirror.

“just right, your majesty, don’t worry.” his arms came up to wrap around your body and your hands rested on his arms, a shuddering breath left your mouth as the gravity of today settled in even more.

maybe there won’t be a way, maybe you will never get to hold jimin like this again.

“before we go jimin, i want to tell you, like all of them, you have me, a home and i need you to come back for me,” that was the closest you could get to professing your love, your words were pleading, begging, even if your face was passive. jimin shakes his head, his hair rubbed onto your neck as he exhaled, “we both need to come back, i’m not letting this end here.”

after minutes passed of just being enveloped in each other’s warmth, you wished you could just ignore the war and stay in this room forever, with jimin, you wished you could ignore the possibility of losing him but the loud roars of your soldiers marching to the battlefield reminded you of who you were doing all of this for.

you were the queen, jimin was the general, and both of you had duties that couldn’t keep you locked in this room.

so, with a pained heart and arms that longed for each other even if only seconds passed, you both parted to step away from each other.

jimin reached for your headgear, taking his time to brush your hair and slip it on your head, the one thing you always let him do for you and you held back your tears as he pressed a kiss to your forehead. you reached for his hands and kissed the back of them, your tears soon fell on them and jimin’s resolve started breaking.

but he sniffed, pushing himself away and wiping your tears, “are you ready, my strongest queen?” he held out his hand with a wide, albeit painful smile on his face.

you put your hand in his, trying to stay strong, “whenever you are, general.”

and as you two stepped out, the warmth of his skin spread on you, his head dipping down to give you one final smile that was filled with his ever-growing love.

you felt scared that you might never see it again.

“i love you, your majesty.”

i love you unbelievably more.

“there will be a royal wedding to get ready for after this, be prepared, general.”

-

jimin winced as sand clouded his vision, he swung his sword aimlessly, hoping to catch his opponent, his ears were ringing from all the screams of agony around him, and when the blood splattered on his face, another scream rang much louder in his ear, causing him to look away.

another soldier who wouldn’t go home.

he whipped his head around, trying to catch sight of you in the midst of all the chaos, and after ducking and running under everyone around him, while slaying whoever he could in the way, he finds you.

a soldier fell at your feet and you took a huge breath, while looking around, only to catch jimin’s impressed face, you both smiled at each other, with red dripping down on your faces.

there was a chance.

you could win this and go back home to each other.

but soon, jimin got pushed into the chaos, and another, darker cloud of sand dusted across his face, forcing him to stand straight and attack again. he couldn’t see you again but he knew you were giving it your all, so he busied himself.

only a few more.

and he would be back with you.

-

they told him that you killed the most.

that you had fought bravely, and led your kingdom to victory.

that you were the queen that they would love and celebrate, even if centuries pass.

but how could jimin love and celebrate you, when he couldn’t hold you in his arms?

when your body was carried into the palace, it had taken everything in jimin to not set the entire palace on fire. to him, a palace without you, alive and breathing life into the building, was not a palace at all.

people held him when he cried, when he wanted to drive his sword into himself, when he would try to shake your body back to life, when he wouldn’t move away from your body, people put their arms around him and tried to lift him up.

but none of them could console him, all the promises you both had dreamed about vanished in front of his eyes and he blamed every single one of them, if they weren’t so harsh on you, if they didn’t call you heartless, you wouldn’t fight till death to prove that you did indeed have a heart, that you indeed had the biggest one.

jimin didn’t have too long to mourn, soon, the heavy crown was positioned on his head, they told him that it was your last request for him to look after the kingdom you had left behind, and once it was on him, he realized the weight you carried around your whole life, since you were only a kid.

they pulled all kinds of royal clothes on him, the materials itched, they burnt his skin, and the gold threads dug into his neck, as if the clothes were his own prison.

as he was made king, the kingdom rejoiced, they were finally getting a king, a true ruler, in their words, and jimin laughed in all their faces, their history would only have one true ruler, and it was you. no one could do what you did.

the throne felt wrong to jimin, as if he didn’t belong, but he knew this was what you wanted for the kingdom you loved so dearly, and jimin would always serve your needs.

he wished, as you had, for you to come and hold him when he had hard decisions to make, he wished to melt into your lap one last time to feel the warmth that ran away from him, he wished that you were right beside him, gently guiding and caring for him.

but he was left with only the ghost of your touch, that would forever haunt him.

jimin still got up every day, he put on the heavy crown and the irritating clothes and listened to the same blubbering idiots, the way you had, and he tried his best to be the ruler you were.

but at night, he crumbled away, dreaming of your touch and your love as he hugged your headgear closer.

jimin’s dreams remained dreams.

fact that it was Mono…

Press Play || knj

Summary: You didn’t mean to. Didn’t intend to fall in love with a dying man.

                         Pairing: Namjoon x Reader.                       

                         Word count: 9k

                         Warnings/Genre: Fluff, alluded smut, cursing, angst, character death.

All of my works are purely fiction. Everything I write is my intellectual property and therefore belongs to me. ©out-of-jams. Do not copy or repost without permission.

                               | | Masterlist | |

Beep. Beep. Beep.

With a sigh, you shifted on the uncomfortable chair’s hard plastic. It creaked beneath your weight in protest, as if judging you for the powdered donut pressed to your lips. The obnoxious beeping from the heart monitor belonging to the patient behind the curtain next to you continued on, blaring loudly over the annoyance wafting off you in waves.

You hated hospitals, hated everything about them. From the sterile smell of disinfectant, to the unnecessarily bright walls and fluorescent lighting, and all the way to the way the stench of disappointment hovered right on the precipice of hope. The sound of footfalls could be heard from outside the door of the room, left half-open as if to try and air out the reek of hopelessness.

Another breath of hot air left your lips as you attempted to relax further back into the chair that apparently had some sort of vendetta against your numb rear. The crinkle of the plastic wrapped mini donuts was the only sound that could be heard over the beeping of the heart monitor behind the curtain. The white sheeted bed to the left of you was empty, the covers drawn down messily.

Somewhere in the cold building they called a hospital was your sister, hooked up to the same machine that was trying to save her life, only to pump deadly chemicals into her bloodstream. She’d left you alone thirty minutes ago, practically stiff arming you into staying behind while she got treatment. Soohee, your sister, absolutely refused to allow you to see her in what she liked to joke was her cyborg form.

Even though the joke made no sense, you didn’t have it in you to refuse anything that came out of her mouth. Especially when that request came at the cost of you not having to witness her skin turn a sickly, pallor white while the machine at her side filtered her body with the white hot fire that they called medicine.

While your tongue flickered across your lips to collect the white powdered sugar at the corner of your mouth, you hand stayed busy absentmindedly scrolling through your Instagram feed. It was right as you were liking a vacation picture of some old highschool acquaintance that the door to the room swung the rest of the way open. Just like the chair under your ass, the door protested at the movement.

You were going to ignore it, you really were. You knew it couldn’t be your sister, seeing as how she still had a little ways to go to finish her treatment. But a flash of silver caught at the corner of your eye and refused to let go. So there you were, the final half of your last powdered donut pressed to your parted lips, that you saw it. No, not it.

Him.

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the universe doesn’t seem to be playing fair… but it has always provided us with chances. ultimately leaving it upto us to decide what to do with it.

no one - someone is such a beautiful display of that. it could be a tragedy or it could be the biggest, bestest, brightest moment of your life.

loved it. enjoyed it. i loathe mountains now. but it was a super interesting read.

No One

Author D.

Pairing Jungkook / Reader (female)

Genre Extreme Sports AU | Slice of Life AU | Heavy Angst

Warning Death | Mentions of Suicide | Mentions of Depression (Please, do NOT read if these themes are sensible to you)

Word count 21k

Summary “Letter to No One, 22nd. Maybe it’s time I change the greetings to my letters and actually say hi to you. Dear No One. Yes, that’s better. I was looking forward to writing this one. Tomorrow we’ll be my 100th jump. Can you believe it? It seems only yesterday that I bought my very first suit. Time really flies. I think I’ll have to celebrate. I’d celebrate with you, if only you existed. We could have gone to the amusement park and enjoy some rides. Haneul used to really like those. She would have liked you too. Well … the “you” I imagine, anyways. Have I ever told you you’re a girl? I guess I did at some point. You’re a girl No One. You don’t really have a face, but I guess you could be beautiful. Cool, too. You have to be cool to willingly read my weird letters. But again, you don’t exist. I’m starting to wish you did though. It would be nice to have someone to be with tomorrow - someone who knows. Like you.”

A/N This one was really difficult to write, reason why it took me so long to publish it. I’m sorry to have kept you waiting! I’d really appreciate your feedback! Thank you! (This has yet to be edited)

Someone (AU)

©️ dfdph, 2020 - All rights reserved. Reposting or translating onto other sites is NOT allowed.

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‘..please give feedback if you like it’ you say as if you haven’t given us one of the most interesting crossovers ever.

i don’t just like it, i love it. i hadn’t even thought of old guard!au and boom. bc this fits them so perfectly. one of the things that just makes sense you know.

i love that they are so tight and together. their bond that’s spanned over centuries is on display, and beautifully. you, author, have done so well in portraying that.

i love how it just kicks off. love how we explore their backstories as the story processes along with her. there’s no discord with the general relay of info.

i also find it fascinating how aware they are. how in-touch they are with not only the entire process, but also their own emotional standing during. each of them had to do it at least once, so you know, they’ve had time and they’ve had experience on the how to. but after what feels like a really long time there’s an 8th now. and they hadn’t thought it would happen. and now they have to, do this all over again. but there’s so much more they have to get on-board with as well.

her mission, her coping with it. her acceptance of a life with them, in whatever capacity.

i loved that about the OG movie too. i adore that movie bc the last time i had any healthy/supportive group dynamic exposure was through sense8 and to have this one as well was so satisfying. the concept, the execution; even the immortality seeming a vague thing, there today, not tomorrow, kept me on hook.

i am eager to see how this group fares.

ETERNAL - masterlist

They have died so often that death has lost its meaning; hurt so regularly that pain has become inconsequential; lost so much that they hold each other to the light of the stars. They have nothing yet they have everything, as long as they have each other. And, after centuries, they now have her.

➳ pairing ; bts!ot7 x fem!reader

➳ genres ; The Old Guard au; fantasy, historical, action, romance, alternate universe

➳ themes ; angst, fluff, death

PART I

PART II

PART III

PART IV

PART V

PART VI

fate and destiny… it’s all a cruel game of luck. these two preserved despite it all. and my god i hope it’s the last time they have to this. that their souls get the rest they deserve and together.

maybe we’re just | not |meant to be

➵ absolute value [ab·so·lute val·ue] (n.) the magnitude of a quantity, irrespective of sign; the distance of a quantity from zero.

➵ pairing: min yoongi x reader

➵ This was not the first time you’d met Min Yoongi. In fact, you had encountered him throughout many of your previous lifetimes—and yet unbeknownst to either of you, fate was hard at work trying to keep you together as much as destiny was trying to pull you apart. Maybe in another life, another time, another world, another universe…

How many chances did you get until you were finally granted the opportunity be with your soulmate? Would there ever come a time when both of you could find peace in this never ending cycle of life and death—or will the two of you be at the mercy of space and time, forever swimming along the cosmos in search of one another? 

➵ genre: definitely a soulmate/multiple past lives AU, love triangle, fluff, heavy angst, bit of historical fiction, modern timeline, time jumps, alternate/parallel universes

➵ warnings: swearing, alcohol consumption, fighting, blood, terminal illness, main character death

➵ word count: 15.9k

a/n: brainstormed this over the course of four hours and started writing on May 2nd :’) please have tissues

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oh my god. and mcuxbts crossover!

this concept is so fresh. and my god am i ready to dive into heartbreak head first full speed.

i urge anyone who comes across this to give it a try. it’s angst Ona totally different level.

also, tae where you at?

(namjoon for the win tho, i sobbed for this boy!)

blipped

title: blipped pairing: brother’s best friend!yoongi x female reader genre: major angst !!, fluff, brother’s best friend au, set in the marvel cinematic universe (mcu), slow burn?, implied age gap, character deaths, heavy themes, the blip is kinda fucked up if u think abt it, brother!namjoon, bestfriend!taehyung, mommy issues warnings: added each part

At the age of 21, you confessed your feelings to your brother’s best friend, Yoongi, which he rejected. One day later, Thanos snapped, turning fifty percent of the world population to dust, leaving the other half lost, confused, and mourning–including you. Five years later, Bruce Banner snapped everyone back to life, including Yoongi, who doesn’t really know you anymore.

one. Before the Blip (19k) two. Gone and Back (3.6k) three. Family Line (2.3k) four. coming soon!

𓆩♡𓆪 want to be tagged to all my works or a specific one? 𓆩♡𓆪  : ̗̀➛ fill up this form here: taglist request form.

© wolfvmin. please do not copy, translate, claim any of my works. thank you.

everything about this.

i saved this one for so long, i almost didn’t want to read it. bc from the synopsis alone i was gearing myself for heartbreak. z.apocalypse aus are very special to me. they present such a great perspective on life and living that there’s always something more to explore. something more to absorb and understand. or just carry with you. and it’s heavy yo. it’s very potent and it lingers. and it’s so good.

but i finally read it. and let me just get this out of the way. the title, alone. Ugh. devastating.

now, with just that, my mind jumped to the extremes bc this in this au, anything goes! you just gotta hold on to your sanity… somehow. but the callback to it in the end. mwah! so meaty i drooled.

the imagery needs a round of applause of its own. bc you got down to it right away. the beetles and their struggle to figure a way around the stick. oh the genius you are. you were on to something with that!!

and look at that. they did figure a way around the stick. it’s daunting and slow and all kinds of scary. but they’re moving at least. one step at a time.

their dynamic. they got together after shit went down. but namjoon really tied himself down the moment he saw the opportunity. he was like, this is a done deal. no one is in this relationship is going anywhere without the other and that’s that. his patience, his dedication and affection are so loud. like his steps. they remind me a little of Daryl and Carol.

the nightmare and their shared history, oof! my heart broke for them. also, that surprise appearance. shit. i was warned yet i wasn’t prepared. the trigger was even worse. the survivors guilt really is something.

god! for their sake i hope it’s not a terminus or saviors situation. i genuinely want them to have a chance to just be for a moment. it will never be neverland, but it could be something different. something better. theirs.

in neverland (m)

pairings: namjoon x reader

genre: angst, smut, zombie apocalypse!au (post z-day so to speak), moments of fluff

warnings: MATURE CONTENT 18+, mentions of death, graphic depictions of violence, implicit death of supporting characters, implicit suicide, some gore (its a zombie au so everything that comes with that) also this is really sad so don’t say i didn’t warn you!, explicit sex, some dry-humping, vaginal intercourse, oral (male receiving), fingering, mild-ish dom/sub themes (dom!joon), choking, a little praise kink, multiple orgasms, hmm oversensitivity ? maybe, oof i think that’s it

word count: 12k+ (haha….)

“I see you all the time.”

It was true. He saw you at almost all moments of the day. He’d seen you when you had killed your first deadman, watched as you wiped your weapon clean and then had held your hand as you cried afterwards. He’d seen you get excited over finding toothpaste. He saw you every time you washed your clothes in rivers with bars of soap and had even joined you on occasions when you washed your body. He’d seen you lose everyone except him. All he ever did was see you and before it would have driven you crazy, but now it was the only sane thing about your life.

AN: i know this fic is warning heavy and i know it won’t be everyone’s cup of tea, but i am very proud of it nonetheless. hope you enjoy, and as always thanks for reading!

Keep reading

you never fail. detective min is so hot btw! i just kept picturing him in his issued crew neck and tight ass jeans catching the perp. yum.

Yoongi’s a murder detective fighting burnout when he’s assigned the case that you and your former partner fucked up.

Paring: Yoongi x f! Reader

Genre: Detectives!Yoongi and reader

Rating: 18+

Word count: 6.6k

Warnings: Swearing, descriptions of murder, bloodshed and assault, sex, depression and burnout, mentions of guns

The flashing blue lights in Yoongi’s window are followed by the wail of sirens cutting through the early evening bustle.

Yoongi looks out the window. He’s three floors up from street level, there’s raindrops tracking along the dirty glass, the faint smell of mildew that accompanies any rainfall in this filthy city.

Under the table, his good leather shoes, the ones he saves for weddings and funerals, have rubbed a hole in the skin over his achilles. Yoongi had worn them for his disciplinary hearing today, the part of him that still wants to be a cop temporarily winning over the part of him that doesn’t.

He wonders if this is what burnout feels like.

His superior, Kim Namjoon, had called him into his office after the hearing to tell him he was on probation, to clean up his act because he wouldn’t be so lucky as to get off next time.

The truth is, Yoongi had known while he was pressing the suspect’s face into gravel with his booted foot that it would come back to bite him on the ass.

He’d done it anyway.

Yoongi’s never been kind to scum who exploit children, but his partner, Jung Hoseok, had seen something in Yoongi’s face that day that had made him report Yoongi.

Yoongi doesn’t blame him. Hoseok has been his partner on and off for five years and he’s as sterling as they come. His moral compass is as strong as it was the day they graduated from the academy, despite all the fucked up shit they’ve seen.

Unlike Yoongi.

Yoongi was never black and white to begin with and now he’s so far into the grey he scares himself sometimes. It’s never been his goal to be the kind of cop who metes out his own justice.

Only madness lies that way.

Anyway now Hoseok’s been reassigned temporarily to narcotics, supposedly a break from homicide, and Yoongi’s partnerless.

Probably not for long, there’s always some hungry rookie wanting the credibility of working homicide.

Yoongi sighs, closes the file he’d been skimming. It’s well past seven, there aren’t any open cases that need his immediate attention and he figures he might as well go home to his apartment and his cat, Kenzo.

The pavement’s slippery under the smooth soles of his good shoes, Yoongi pulls his coat tighter against the early autumn chill as he walks the five blocks to his apartment.

The smell of fried wontons fills his nostrils as he passes a conduit street in the back end of Little China, Yoongi’s tempted to stop and pick up dinner.

He’s tempted every time and succumbed yesterday so he soldiers on, not without a pang of regret. He regrets food choices because he’d rather that, than think about his actual regrets.

The bang of a gunshot when he’d been two minutes too late to what then became a crime scene.

Fucking some girl with a cute face because he hadn’t been man enough to treat Mara the way she deserved.

Choosing to stay in homicide even after it had become clear to him that he had plumbed the depths of human depravity. Scarring his psyche repeatedly because it’s easier than making the active choice to request a transfer.

Yoongi unlocks his door, toes his shoes off, hangs up his coat.

There’s a flicker of movement in the corner of his eye, a flash of grey fur as Kenzo skitters across the entryway, close but not touching him.

It’s the kind of greeting Yoongi can get behind.

He pours out a serving of dry food into Kenzo’s dish, heads to the fridge to reheat yesterday’s wontons.

Eats standing at the tiny kitchen island, cracks open a beer to wash it all down.

He catches sight of his face, pinched in the scowl it seems to fall into more often than not these days.

Jesus, is he getting old?

Yoongi avoids looking at his reflection again as he showers. Changes into the same t-shirt he’s been wearing for weeks, contemplates watching porn just to take the edge off, but decides he can’t be bothered.

He falls into sleep, deep and dreamless, wakes up with an almighty crick in his neck just before dawn from the way he’d been huddled in a tight ball under the covers.

He knows he’s not right, but he’s been not right for so long Yoongi wouldn’t even know where to start putting himself together again.

***

Redemption comes in odd packages, Yoongi thinks, as he looks up a case he worked on six months ago, a shady businessman on the fringe of organised crime who’d got high as a kite and beat a sex worker to death.

He’d been killed on the way to serving out his sentence in the cushy prison in Busan his fancy lawyer had managed to negotiate, crushed in the back of the transport vehicle when it had been t-boned by a lorry.

Apparently a freak accident, Yoongi doubts it but he’s also not going to look too closely, it’s out of his jurisdiction and he’s too jaded to mourn the loss of another brutal asshole. They’d had to identify the sex worker by her dental records and DNA, her face had been unrecognisable.

There’s a knock on the frosted glass panel on his office door, Yoongi looks up as Kim Namjoon walks in, followed by the latest hungry rookie angling for a stint in homicide.

‘Min Yoongi, this is Y/N L/N,’ Namjoon says. ‘She’s a new transfer in from the Seoul branch.’

Yoongi doesn’t have to fake his disinterest as he nods politely at you.

‘What’s the case?’ he asks.

Namjoon looks pointedly at the crime scene photo blown up on Yoongi’s screen.

Yoongi waits.

He can feel your gaze on him, but he’ll get to that later.

The anticipation of a new case never gets old, he’s been in homicide since he graduated off the beat ten years ago and he no longer thinks it’s sick of him to get excited about another murder.

It’s the thrill of the hunt that he lives for, the translation of nebulous facts and witness statements into a puzzle that he can solve.

Yoongi’s damn good at his job. It almost makes the sacrifices in the rest of his so-called life worth it.

Namjoon hands Yoongi a case file, crisp, sharp edges waiting to razor his fingertips open. Flat.

Inside, the standard cover page, then a note that makes Yoongi sit up straight out of his slouch.

He looks at Namjoon to find Namjoon’s already looking at him.

‘The reaper of Seoul?’

Yoongi realises as he says the words out loud how it sounds.

The capture and subsequent conviction of the serial killer who’d terrorised the citizens of Seoul for three years had made headlines nationwide.

Last year.

‘Yeah,’ Namjoon says, the tension in his jaw evident now that Yoongi’s looking at him properly.

Namjoon glances at you. ‘It would seem he never left.’

You shift your weight and your eyes meet Yoongi’s.

‘My partner and I broke the case,’ you say. There’s a brittle smoothness to your voice that Yoongi recognises as a paper thin facade over the hauntedness underneath. ‘Turns out we didn’t.’

***

The note in the case file is a single sheet of letter paper, lined in blue.

The handwriting is precise, neat between the lines.

Oh dear.

Better luck this time?

Best regards from your neighbourhood Reaper.

Yoongi looks at you, sitting across the room at the desk Hoseok’s temporarily vacated.

You’re staring at your screen, face backlit in blue, expression unreadable. You’re in black, nondescript knitwear, your hair pushed back from your face, eyes narrowed.

He clears his throat. ‘You worked the case with your partner.’

It’s a statement you answer to like a question.

‘It was the first case I picked up when I joined homicide,’ you say, turning to Yoongi. ‘It started with -‘

‘Kim Seulgi,’ Yoongi says.

You nod, almost grimacing at the name of the Seoul Reaper’s first high profile victim.

‘Her family wanted answers.’

Kim Seulgi had been born of Seoul’s elite, an architect with her grandfather’s firm who had picked up a number of accolades for her work on the National Opera House.

She’d been engaged to an equally accomplished classical pianist, Jeong Minho, and had been the only offspring of her wealthy parents.

She’d disappeared three days before her wedding, only to turn up on her wedding day, floating in the Hangang, dressed in the clothes she’d disappeared in.

You say, ‘She was an ambitious first target.’

‘Was she the first?’ Yoongi asks.

The flicker in your eyes tells him this isn’t the first time you’ve considered this.

‘My partner Kiho.’ There’s strain in your voice. You start again. ‘My partner, Kiho, and I thought he’d killed before.’

You shrug. ‘The captain felt we were wasting time looking back into his early years.’

Yoongi says, neutral, ‘Budgets are limited, your case must have passed the thresholds for plausible deniability.’

‘It seemed to fit,’ you agree.

Your eyes meet again. ‘Not all of it, though.’

Yoongi knows, intimately, what it’s like to not be certain. Sometimes all you have is your instinct. It’s one thing to build a case no reasonable person would doubt, but you’re also betting on your gut. You’re betting on being a good enough detective to know that the pieces fit, without forcing them to fit.

You’re betting on being honest with yourself, and Yoongi knows more than anyone how tempting the lies can be.

Now you’re the one watching him, taking the measure of him.

His email pings.

‘That’s the link to the full case file,’ you say.

You get up, carry a stack of notebooks to his desk.

‘Our notebooks,’ you say.

Yoongi looks at the stack.

Every cop’s got their own collection of notebooks, raw data and impressions that don’t always make it into official reports.

The equivalent of dirty underwear when you’re not expecting company versus lingerie when you’re down to fuck.

This close, he can smell your shampoo, bright and faintly floral.

You blink at him.

‘I need to sort something with human resources,’ you say. ‘I’ll see you later.’

In actual fact it’s 36 hours later when he next sees you, at 4am, at a crime scene.

***

The rain falling is more than a drizzle, enough that the tent around the victim is the first priority.

There’s an imprint of violence in the air, Yoongi knows you feel it too by the way your lips tighten as you duck under the yellow tape to join him.

You nod at him in greeting, then there’s silence as you enter the tent.

The victim’s on her front, face turned to the right, hand tucked under her cheek.

She hasn’t been dead long enough for livedo to set in, she would almost look asleep if it weren’t for the purple of her lips, the greyness to her complexion.

The bath of blood she’s lying in.

Yoongi can just see the edge of the gaping wound on her neck.

You wait until forensics turns her body over.

The top three buttons of her silk blouse are undone, her chest slick with blood.

Yoongi’s reading the crime scene like he’s reading you, and he knows what you’re going to say before you say it.

‘It’s him,’ you breathe. The devastation in your eyes makes it difficult for him to look at you. ‘Fuck, it’s him.’

***

You’re shivering visibly despite the hot coffee Yoongi’s poured you, despite the fact that he’s turned the heating in his ancient Hyundai up as far as it’ll go.

There are droplets of water in your hair, sparkling incongruously in the gloom.

You’re waiting till first light to knock on neighbourhood doors, the victim was found in a quiet cul-de-sac.

Two minutes from her own front door.

Not much chills Yoongi these days but that fact does make him pause.

The audacity of it.

He says, ‘I have a blanket in the trunk.’

You’re protesting but Yoongi gets back out in the rain anyway, grabs the blanket and gets back in.

Hands it to you, takes your cup as you drape the blanket around yourself.

‘It gets colder here than Seoul,’ Yoongi offers, handing you your coffee back.

‘We fucked it up,’ you say, and Yoongi knows that’s what you’ve been thinking since you saw the body.

He’s just been waiting for you to be ready to say it.

‘So make it right,’ he says, simple.

‘An innocent man’s in prison because Kiho and I fucked up,’ you say.

Yoongi doesn’t want to minimise it but he doubts the man you put away was completely innocent.

‘I read your notebooks,’ he says. ‘Who’s Jeon Bogyeol?’

There had been twelve murders before the arrest. All women in their late twenties to mid thirties, all living alone.

They’d all lived in the same part of Seoul, but apart from that there was nothing to link them that he could find.

You look at him warily. ‘He was a night watchman at the apartments of seven of the women.’

Yoongi waits.

‘We cross-referenced staff at all the addresses, and his name kept coming up. Like Jang Daeseong.’

You flinch at the name of the man convicted of the murders, as though it didn’t fall from your own lips.

You keep talking, though, your voice never faltering. ‘We never found any links between Jeon Bogyeol and the other five women.’

‘Did he have a history?’ Yoongi asks. He’s looking out the window at the first rays of sunrise, muted orange through the rain. His shoulder aches, an old injury he doesn’t think about except when he’s tired, and cold.

‘There was a neighbour,’ you say. You’re chewing on your bottom lip, a tell Yoongi’s noticed for the first time tonight.

‘She called the police once saying she’d seen Bogyeol taking a woman into his apartment against her will.’

You’re frowning. ‘The beat cops who responded to the call out said there was no sign of anyone else in his apartment. The neighbour moved away.’

‘Moved away?’ Yoongi asks, and you glance at him, understanding the sharpness in his tone.

‘I was going to look into it when the Chief shut us down,’ you say. It’s stated simply, like a fact, no sign of defensiveness.

Yoongi offers you more coffee from his flask.

‘Where’s Bogyeol now?’

‘When the new letter came in I looked him up,’ you say. The steam rising from your cup obscures part of your expression for a moment, but Yoongi can hear the tremor in your voice.

‘He’s less than fifty miles east of here.’

Dawn’s breaking, the rain’s finally starting to peter out, but Yoongi’s chilled anyway.

***

The morning sun is high in the sky by the time Yoongi and you finish interviewing the neighbours and the new victim’s friends and family.

Yoongi’s phone rings. It’s Namjoon.

‘Can you talk?’ Namjoon asks.

Yoongi mouths ‘Namjoon’ in response to your inquiring expression, puts some distance between you and him.

‘Yeah,’ he answers.

‘The post-mortem results are back, and the preliminary tox screen is negative. The ME’s put the cause of death as exsanguination.’

Yoongi processes this. ‘It’s the same MO as the previous Seoul reaper victims,’ he says.

Namjoon sighs. ‘Has anything new come out of your interviews?’

‘No,’ Yoongi says. The victim had been well-liked, none of the neighbours had seen or heard anything, and on the surface of it there were no conflicts he could see. Her boyfriend of two years had been away on a work trip, his location confirmed around the window of the crime.

Yoongi’s looking at you as you wait against the car, and when your name comes out of Namjoon’s mouth he’s already got an inkling of what Namjoon wants to know.

‘I reviewed the case,’ Namjoon says. ‘There are no obvious flaws or errors in their investigation.’

Yoongi grunts. ‘There was a lead that they didn’t follow up on.’

He fills Namjoon in.

‘I’ll follow it up.’

Namjoon says, thoughtfully, ‘I wonder where her partner’s working now.’

Yoongi’s surprised Namjoon doesn’t already know, to be honest, he’s always two steps ahead of Yoongi.

He flicks his gaze to you again. You’re still waiting against the car, and there’s a loneliness to your posture, a fatigued downturn to your mouth that makes him say, ‘Hey Joon, I’ll call you back, ok?’

He ends the call, unlocks the car.

‘We should get back and compare notes,’ Yoongi says. His voice has dropped the way it does when he’s tired, and shit, he is tired. He hasn’t slept well for a while.

‘Let me drive,’ you offer. You take his keys, and your fingers brush his for an instant.

The contact, brief though it is, makes Yoongi’s skin tingle.

He wonders if you notice his reaction, but you’re already sliding in, adjusting the seat, starting up the car.

***

Yoongi wakes when you’re parking the car, sits up, a little embarrassed.

‘I’m sorry,’ he says, looking to gauge your reaction.

‘Don’t be,’ you reply. ‘I would have done the same if you’d driven.’

There’s a hint of mischief in the curve of your half-smile.

‘You mumble in your sleep.’

Yoongi rubs a hand over his face. ‘What’d I say?’

‘I couldn’t make out any words,’ you tell him, but there’s a twinkle in your eye that makes him wonder if that’s really true.

Mara is the only person who’s shared his bed in recent years, and she’d never mentioned anything.

You swipe your ID to get into the station, hit the lifts.

In the dire grey lighting you look almost as tired as he does.

‘Coffee?’ Yoongi offers, when you pass the vending machine on the way to the office.

‘Yeah,’ you say. You’re on your phone, frowning over a text.

Yoongi passes you a cup.

‘Problem?’ he asks.

‘Kiho,’ you say. You look at him. ‘My old partner. He wants to meet up.’

‘It’d be useful to talk through the case with him,’ Yoongi agrees.

Your expression is difficult to read. ‘He’s in a retreat a couple hours drive from here. He took time off after we closed the case.’

Yoongi gulps his coffee. ‘There isn’t anything else we can do here anyway, we’re waiting on leads.’

He reaches out his hand for the car keys. ‘I can drive.’

***

The retreat Kiho is staying in is set amongst the foothills of a mountain, rolling grounds all around, a view of the cliffs overlooking the sea.

It seems to Yoongi like a place only the very rich or the very damaged would live.

Unless you get better pay packets in Seoul he’s apprehensive about meeting Kiho.

You sign in at the front desk, the receptionist greets you warmly, like she’s met you a few times before.

You lead Yoongi through a huge lounge, through open patio doors and into a green. Yoongi’s looking around at the residents, scanning the area the way he does automatically whenever he’s in an unfamiliar place.

You’re waving a hand, and then you’re embracing a tall man tightly. Neither of you say anything but Yoongi can see the way your shoulders slump, like the tension’s draining out of you.

It’s only when the tall man looks up at Yoongi inquiringly that Yoongi notices the long scar running along his neck. Tracing the path of his jugular, vertical rather than horizontal.

Kiho extends a hand.

‘So you’re going to get our guy,’ he says.

Yoongi doesn’t know what to say to that.

‘We’re going to get him,’ he says, finally.

Kiho turns to you. ‘You haven’t told him,’ he says to you.

You’re looking at Yoongi.

‘We can tell him now.’

***

‘I started getting notes after Jang Daeseong was convicted,’ you say. You’re sitting in a gazebo with Yoongi and Kiho, mugs of coffee in front of you.

Yoongi raises an eyebrow.

You flick your eyes to his, then look away, unlock your phone.

Yoongi takes your phone, scrolls through a gallery of pictures.

Lined paper, handwriting he’s seen before.

Yoongi reads through the content, then returns your phone to you.

‘The originals are with forensics,’ you tell him. ‘The paper and ink are generic, impossible to trace. There’s no trace of DNA, not so much as a partial print.’

‘The notes stopped coming last month,’ you say. ‘Right around the time I moved.’

Kiho’s scratching his neck absently, Yoongi catches how your gaze drops to his scar.

The length of it’s longer than a stab wound, he thinks the surgeons might have had to extend the scar to repair the vessels beneath.

You turn to Yoongi.

‘We have to stop him,’ you say. ‘Use me to lure him out.’

‘He nearly killed me,’ Kiho says. His expression is sober, his tone flat.

He stops there, but Yoongi can hear his next words, loud and clear.

What’s he going to do to you?

‘We can’t let him keep going like this,’ you say, very gently.

Kiho meets Yoongi’s gaze.

Yoongi doesn’t falter.

‘He has to be stopped,’ he agrees.

***

The drive back to the police station goes quicker - there’s something about seeing your old partner that’s given you a bump of energy.

Yoongi can practically feel the adrenaline fizzing in your blood, coming off you in waves.

He’s worried about the crash when the adrenaline ebbs.

He sure as fuck hopes you can cope with the lows better than he can.

He’d put in a call before you left the retreat, Namjoon’s fast tracking a last known address on the neighbour of Jeon Bogyeol who’d moved away.

You’re typing an address into the satnav yourself, face drawn, eyes serious.

Yoongi doesn’t have to ask whose address it is.

‘Are you sure you’re up to this?’ he asks.

His voice is as neutral as he can make it but he already knows that you’ve made your decision.

It’s written all over you, in the way your shoulders are squared, in the tilt of your chin, in the way your hands are tensed into fists in your lap.

‘I need to see this through, Yoongi,’ you say.

Yoongi takes a moment.

‘What happened to Kiho?’ he asks.

‘He didn’t see who it was,’ you answer. Your eyes are fixed in front of you, jaw tensed.

‘He was heading home in between shifts and he got jumped in the car park under his apartment. If he hadn’t been found by the car park attendant —‘ you voice trails off, and you shiver.

‘He was lucky the car park attendant called for help right away. That his next door neighbour, fresh off a shift in the trauma department, arrived home when she did and was there to take over. That he lives five minutes on blue lights away from the best trauma centre in Seoul.’

You look at Yoongi. ‘Kiho’s damned lucky to be alive.’

‘It’s a different injury from the reaper’s usual MO,’ Yoongi says slowly.

You nod. ‘He was toying with us.’

‘You said you received notes from the Reaper,’ Yoongi says. He’s watching you carefully in the rearview. ‘What did they say?’

Your lips press together in a line, but your voice is steady when you answer.

‘He said he’d been watching me, and that he was coming for me. That I’d be his final kill.’

***

The address you’ve put in for Jeon Bogyeol is a house in a run down suburban neighbourhood, the type of place Yoongi grew up.

The houses are haphazardly arranged, like a careless scatter on a Monopoly board, connected by a warren of roads too narrow for more than one car to pass.

Yoongi can see you tensing up the closer you get to your destination, and after he parks and switches off the engine, he places his hand on your arm.

Your eyes are expressive, more so than your voice.

‘We haven’t got grounds yet for an arrest warrant,’ you say, flat.

‘We’re working the case,’ Yoongi replies. ‘And if it’s right, we’ll work it until it’s airtight.’

Your response is to stare at him a moment, then to push open the car door.

Yoongi notices that you’ve unzipped your jacket, making your holstered gun more visible.

His own gun presses against his hip, the weight of it reminding him that although he’s only drawn it a handful of times, each time has been with intent.

He sure as fuck hopes neither of you will have reason to draw your gun today.

***

The address is little more than a shack, a rickety door that looks like it’ll give under a strong kick, a boarded up window that’s visibly cracked.

Yoongi knocks, identifies you both.

Follows procedure because he’s determined to get it all right this time.

Get the monster locked up where he belongs.

You don’t have grounds to break down the door, at least not until you go round to the back and see the pink tricycle upended in the dirt, streamers splayed tendrils of pink and white.

There isn’t much that sends Yoongi into the grey as much as the suggestion that a child might be involved.

He doesn’t really recall looking at you to confirm, just knows that one minute he’s outside in the chill and the next he’s inside the shack, gun drawn, the metallic tang of blood in the back of his throat.

There’s nowhere to hide in the empty shack, Jeon Bogyeol is gone.

You do a cursory search but both of you know you aren’t going to find your answers here.

Then Yoongi must blank out, because the next thing he hears is your voice, firm, saying his name.

He’s panting, covered in sweat, back against a wall, your hands grabbing fistfuls of his jacket to keep him upright.

He blinks, and you snap into focus. There’s ringing in his ears.

Your mouth opens, and the ringing stops. He hears your voice.

‘Let’s go, Yoongi.’

He lets you lead him out, folds himself into the passenger seat of your car, notes distantly how you put your hand on the top of the doorframe like you’re worried he’s going to bang his head.

You start the engine and then you drive, and Yoongi’s grateful that you don’t say anything at all, don’t ask for an explanation of why a fucking tricycle sent him into a tailspin.

Yoongi looks down in his lap because he’s not ready to see if you’re looking at him differently now that you’ve seen him wig out.

You put the radio on after a few minutes, stop at a drive thru after an hour.

It’s only when you hand him a coffee, silently, that he’s moved to speak.

He clears his throat, and you’re the one who speaks, still looking straight ahead, out the windscreen.

‘You don’t have to tell me. I mean, I’ll listen if you do, but you don’t have to.’

Yoongi chews on that a moment.

‘Three years ago I worked what we thought was a murder in Busan. It turned out to be an abduction.’

Yoongi laughs. There’s no humour in it.

‘We found her. She was still warm. If we’d been ten minutes quicker at figuring it out, if her fucking dad had told us about the business deal he had that had gone sour sooner, if I’d even just tried harder…’

His voice trails off.

He risks a glance at you.

You’re still not looking at him.

‘I can’t speak to whether you could have prevented it, Yoongi. All I know is that none of us come to work to do a bad job.’

Your hand lands on his forearm briefly.

‘Some days are just bad days at the office.’

It’s not the first time Yoongi’s heard it, but it’s the first time it’s been said to him with no judgement that he can hear.

***

When you get back to the precinct, Namjoon’s waiting.

He hands Yoongi another case file.

‘I got Jimin to follow up on those leads we talked about,’ Namjoon says, no preamble.

‘We visited Jeon Bogyeol’s last known address,’ you say. ‘There’s no one there now, but it hasn’t been long since he moved out.’

Namjoon says, ‘Keep me informed.’

He nods to the case file. ‘There’s some interesting information in there.’

As Namjoon walks off, you turn to Yoongi.

‘I’m going down to visit someone I know in forensics, see if they can check the house.’

Yoongi heads for your joint office.

There’s a cleaning cart parked just outside the door, which opens just as Yoongi reaches for the doorknob.

The cleaner apologises and bows politely.

Yoongi steps aside to let her pass.

‘You forgot this,’ he says, spotting the dusting cloth left on your desk.

He hands it to her and places the file on his desk.

Outside, it’s raining again.

***

Yoongi wakes with a jolt.

You’re perched on the edge of his desk.

‘You should go home, get some sleep.’

‘In the middle of an active murder investigation?’ Yoongi mumbles.

‘I’m one of the potential targets, remember?’ you say, grimacing. ‘He might come to us.’

At Yoongi’s expression, you say, ‘We’ve been doing nothing but following up leads since the last murder. The last investigation took months, almost a year. What are you going to do, not sleep until he’s caught?’

‘I don’t sleep much anyway,’ Yoongi says, but he knows you’re right.

‘I know you don’t,’ you reply. There’s an empathy in your tone that reminds him you’re a homicide detective too.

You exchange a look, and then you both speak at the same time.

‘I should go —‘

‘Do you like wontons?’ Yoongi blurts out.

You raise an eyebrow. ‘Is this like inviting me in for ramen?’

‘What?’ Yoongi splutters. ‘No, not like that. There’s this place I go. They have—-‘

‘Wontons, I get it,’ you say. You get up. ‘Yeah. Let’s go.’

***

It’s been a while since Yoongi shared a meal with someone else, the last person was Hoseok, who could go straight from a crime scene to a steakhouse without turning a hair.

You’re chasing a wonton around your plate, fatigue lining the corners of your mouth.

Yoongi asks, ‘Where do you live?’

‘The other side of town,’ you tell him. ‘Near the financial district.’

‘Fancy,’ Yoongi muses.

‘More than I can afford,’ you say darkly. ‘If this case goes on for a while I’m going to need to move.’

You look up at him. ‘Where do you live?’

‘Close to here,’ Yoongi says.

‘Yeah?’

You put your chopsticks down. ‘I should —-‘

This time, Yoongi interrupts.

‘Do you want to come round for ramen?’

Your eyes meet, and there’s a beat of silence. Then a pulse of connection that sends heat through Yoongi’s veins.

Your knee brushes his under the table.

‘Yeah,’ you answer, deliberate. ‘Fuck, yeah.’

***

Yoongi’s always hated the preamble to a hookup, in his line of work uncertainty is a thing to be avoided.

You work the case until you get an explanation no reasonable person would doubt.

He finds himself waiting, though, now that you’re standing in his apartment.

You’re looking around, and he wonders if his existence seems as lonely on the outside as it feels on the inside.

He’s wondering if you’ve changed your mind, if you really did think he meant ramen, when you reach out and grasp the front of his shirt.

Slip the tips of your fingers just under, hold the placket as you use your other hand to unbutton. Start at his throat, work your way down, slowly.

His skin prickles under the warmth of your fingers.

You lean forward and press a kiss to the base of his neck.

Yoongi reaches up, slides a hand around the nape of your neck, and you tilt your face to his.

Close up, you’re soft.

Yoongi traces your bottom lip with his thumb, and your lips part.

You don’t say anything, though, and that’s ok, because Yoongi thinks you’re as talked out as he is.

It’s been a hell of a fucking day.

You’re kissing his neck again, instead of his mouth, and that’s ok, because this isn’t love, it’s comfort.

A human connection in a day filled with monsters.

Yoongi sighs as your hands slip over his bare chest, round to his back.

He helps you lift your top over your head, admires your breasts, nipples pressing against the fabric of your bra.

He cups the weight of them in his hands, and you moan.

Yoongi’s cock is filling out, and you’re undoing his belt like you want to see for yourself.

You drop to your knees in front of him, press your mouth onto the length of him over his boxer briefs, sigh with pleasure.

‘Not too much,’ Yoongi warns, ‘not if you want me to fuck you.’

You look up at him, hair mussed, a smile curving your lips.

You tug his boxer briefs down, and Yoongi curls a hand around himself so as not to hit you in the face.

‘Just let me —‘

You open your mouth to take him in, and Yoongi groans at the feel of your warmth.

When did he last —

His crown nudges the back of your throat, and you swallow, and he loses his train of thought.

He grabs your shoulder, tugs you up, kisses the smear of his own stickiness at the corner of your mouth.

The light slanting in through the window is hues of gold and orange, filling in the hollows of your face, outlining the curves of your body.

Yoongi has to stop looking at you because he doesn’t want to cry at how much he’s missed being close to someone like this.

‘Where do you want me?’ he asks, voice taut.

‘Anywhere,’ you say. ‘Just turn these fucking lights out.’

***

In the dark, Yoongi’s most enraptured by the warmth of you.

Your skin is smooth, so soft under his hands as he wraps his fingers around the curve of your hips.

His cock glides in and out of the heat between your legs, and your moans are beautiful but what really gets him are the hitches in your breathing as he moves.

He turns you over, onto your back, and you pull him to you. Your mouth opens on his shoulder in what would be a kiss if you weren’t biting down. Your tongue flicks over his bruised skin, an apology.

You haven’t spoken to each other in words in a while but Yoongi doesn’t think either of you need words right now.

At least he doesn’t.

You’re tightening around his cock now, your cries quickening until you gasp his name in a tone that makes him grunt and his hips jerk, taking him deep as he can go.

Even in his pleasure he makes sure not to crush you as he collapses next to you.

Then you’re up, walking over to the window, pulling up the sash, lighting a cigarette without asking if he’s ok with it.

Yoongi admires the outline of your profile against the glass.

‘I needed that,’ you say, taking a drag, hunching a little to blow smoke out of his window.

‘Me too,’ Yoongi says, honestly.

He ties off the condom, gets up to toss it in the trash on top of yesterday’s takeout.

Pours you a glass of water on his way back to bed.

He half expects you to be dressed, and you are, but in his clothes, not your own, an old t-shirt he’d tossed on the chair by the bed yesterday morning before he left for work.

He can’t see your face clearly in the dark. It makes it easy to find his voice.

‘You should stay,’ he says. ‘We can get coffee in the morning.’

You’re quiet. ‘I want to.’

Yoongi climbs into bed, and after a moment you slide in next to him.

Your bodies aren’t touching at all, but somehow having you there with him is enough.

Yoongi means to check on you, but he’s asleep so quickly he doesn’t get a chance to.

***

There’s a basketball hoop set into the wall in the back end of the station, a concrete square with a chain-link fence.

The building opposite is a block of offices, as is the building next to it.

Yoongi makes the shot, and you grab the ball on its first bounce.

You say, ‘Forensics got nothing from Jeon Bogyeol’s shack. He bleached the shit out of the place before he left.’

Yoongi grunts, watches you point and shoot.

He’d read through the file Namjoon gave him on the neighbour - it’s incomplete but she was last seen alive twelve weeks ago in a coastal town.

There’s something niggling at the back of his brain, he’d suggested shooting hoops in the hopes that the activity might shake the thought loose so his conscious mind can make the connection.

His phone vibrates in his pocket.

Namjoon.

‘I’m going up to see Namjoon,’ he says. ‘You coming?’

‘I’ll stay here for a bit,’ you say. ‘I’ll be up in a sec.’

Yoongi shrugs, lets himself back in.

Takes the stairs up to Namjoon’s office on the third floor.

There’s a cleaning cart parked next to the staff kitchen as he rounds the corner.

Yoongi’s about to knock on Namjoon’s door when his scattered thoughts crystallise.

The case file Namjoon had given him had a grainy photo of Jeon Bogyeol’s neighbour, the one who’d reported him and then disappeared.

He’s seen her face before, and recently.

Coming out of your office.

‘Fuck,’ he swears.

He grabs his phone out of his pocket, dials your number.

Your phone rings, and rings.

Yoongi takes off, down the stairs, back the way he came.

By the time he bursts out of the back door of the station, gun drawn, his heart’s thumping triple speed, but his hand is steady as he aims it at the man with a knife standing over you.

His finger goes from trigger guard to trigger.

‘Fucking drop it,’ Yoongi warns.

He doesn’t, so Yoongi shoots.

***

Jeon Bogyeol’s neighbour who had reported him was called Seo Hyerin.

She was in her early forties, an ex-teacher who he’d coerced into helping him by turning up at her new place even after she’d moved to get away from him.

She’d been too scared to disobey him, but in forcing her to help him, Jeon Bogyeol had given her access to enough information to clinch the case against him.

Once she’d found out he’d been shot and was likely to go straight from hospital to prison, she’d shared all that information with Yoongi and you.

The pieces fell into place so easily there was no need to make any of it fit.

And now Yoongi’s sitting in the kitchen of your apartment, watching as you pack things up.

He’d been right. Your place was fancy.

You were being transferred back to Seoul to finish up, see things through with the case.

He realises you’re looking at him.

‘My new place is a couple hours drive from here,’ you say.

‘Yeah?’ Yoongi says, like he hadn’t already looked it up.

He’d also looked up timed automated cat food dispensers, just because it was one thing to have a neighbour drop in and feed Kenzo if he’s stuck with a case occasionally, but it’s another thing if he’s regularly going to be driving down to see you.

If he’s regularly going to be spending the night away.

It’s uncharacteristic, for him, but he’s hopeful.

‘I slept pretty well that time,’ you say, looking down into your box.

You look up at him, and the curve of your lips makes Yoongi think to himself that he’d like to kiss you, sometime.

‘In your apartment,’ you clarify, like he wouldn’t already know.

‘I make good ramen,’ Yoongi says. ‘I can make it again for you, you know.’

You laugh, and the sound makes Yoongi feel warm.

He realises that he’s smiling.

Fuck, it’s been a while.

in a week - hozier

all that was stuck in my mind while reading this was this one line from this song: so long we become flowers

it’s a little like that for them, isn’t it?

anyway, i will re-read this and get a bit annoyed about how mad it makes me that i am not being loved or have someone to love like this.

we have one hour left to live.

— summary: The world is ending soon. How will you and Jimin spend your last hour on this earth?

— pairing: park jimin x reader

— genre: angst w/ fluff if you squint hard enough

— word count: 2,839

— warnings: major character deaths, implied + non-explicit smut

— notes: wow this might be the saddest fic i’ve ever written. i love writing angst, but sometimes i cry over my own works and i wonder why i do this to myself. i promise i’ll be writing something more lighthearted soon, but until then, i hope you enjoy!

huge thanks to @fentasies for helping me with this story!

p.s. the research used for the introduction can be found in this article (so, yes, this could actually happen!).

p.p.s. i highly suggest listening to this as you read if you want to get in your feels, especially as you continue further on into the story.

“How strange this fear of death is! We are never frightened at a sunset.” - George MacDonald

We interrupt this broadcast to deliver you breaking news.

Scientists believe that the end of the world is imminent.

Keep reading

i have found this gem again. I’d forgotten to like and save it to read at some point. and now that i have… oof!

i was sobbing. they are so precious. they don’t deserve this. but fate has a funny way of making things play out.

i believed in them. and for the better bc they persevered!

The Promised Iris (Part 1/2)

Pair: Jimin x Reader

Genre: Romance, Fluff, Slight Angst, Slow Burn, Fantasy, Soulmate AU

Word Count: 20k

Summary: During one rainy summer day at the park, a stranger name Jimin suddenly confesses that he’s in love with you. At first, you thought that Jimin was a stalker, but it turns out that there’s something he’s hiding from you.

You balance yourself by the edge of the sidewalk. It’s been painted in red for ‘no parking’. It’s hard to walk in a straight line with it being dark outside so you walk in a ‘T’ position for balance. There is, however, light illuminating from the restaurant’s entrance doors.

Standing by the door is your father and Lynn, his coworker, standing unusually close to each other, considering that they’re just being friends. You stop walking so you can observe your father holding hand with hers. He leans down and kisses her softly on the lips, then bids her farewell one last time with a ‘I love you’.

Once your father’s trivial conversation with her is done, he walks to you, and you skip to him with a wide, goofy smile on your face. He looks the happiest you’ve ever seen him be, even looking back at Lynn one more time before you try to get his attention.

“Did you like Lynn?” Your father asks you.

You nod excitedly. “Mm-hmm! Mrs. Lynn is a very nice lady. Will we get to meet her again?”

“If you want to, then sure! I’m sure Lynn would love to be friends with you. Come on, let’s go home.”

Your father takes ahold of your hand and walks to his parked car. You playfully hop over the cracks in the black tar as you hum a tune in your head. But your father’s last words to Lynn lingers with you. He said that he loves her, and there’s something about it that disturbs you. You don’t know why he said that to her if they’re just friends.

“Hey Dad?”

“Yes, (Y/N)?”

“Why did you tell Mrs. Lynn that you love her?” Being the youngster that you are, you couldn’t help but let your curiosity get the better of you. “You said that you only tell it to the person that you like the most.”

Your father is silent briefly before thinking of how to respond to your question. “That’s true, and I do love Lynn. I like being with her and she’s very nice to you, isn’t she?”

You nod, now feeling a bit more hesitant to answer to your father.

“I’m glad that you think that she’s nice. She can become a good mother for you, you know.”

Your smile fades away. There’s a knot in your stomach—your instincts telling you that what your father is doing isn’t right. Even for a five-year-old, you know that this isn’t acceptable.

“But…you always tell Mom that you love her too…and you always kiss her before you go to work. Wouldn’t Mom get mad if she saw you say that you love Mrs. Lynn?”

You feel a tight squeeze around your hand, causing you to flinch. Your father is still smiling, but you can sense that underneath it, he’s beginning to get annoyed with your constant barrage of questions.

“(Y/N), do you remember what I said?”

“…If Mom doesn’t know, then she won’t get angry.”

“That’s right. It’s a secret between you and me, and if you ever tell Mom, she’ll get mad at you.” He points his finger in an accusatory fashion.

Keep reading

sigh

where do i even begin?

it’s a tragedy so sweet you can’t help but want to taste it even though you know better.

and that’s what jimin did. i’m finding satisfaction, begrudgingly, that he can find it within him to feel some modicum of peace- enough to smile, despite the cards he was dealt with.

i only find myself upset that his father died with no knowledge of his son’s suffering, or that he tried to uncover the truth.

i truly wish they had gotten to reconcile a little. but like oc said, life isn’t fair. it’s what meant to happen.

so for those brief moment where her and jimin held each other for a whole night, i’m glad they had that. they deserved more than that. and i wish somehow fate flipped a script and allowed them at least this much…. but she knew that he loved her beyond the nature of their bond. and that she loved him just as much. i can find peace in that.

i knew it was a sad ending. i knew going in it would only ache. but dammit, you killed it.

at least she’s home. at least he’s home. and they both can move on… live out the course of their lives human and star alike till sometime somewhere they are just a man and woman, allowed to fall in love with no obligations of the past.

Touched by a Fallen Star

Pairing: Jimin | Reader

Word Count: 37.2k (back at it again with the long af story)

Genre: PrinceJiminAU, Fantasy, Angst & Smut

Summary:  You know he doesn’t belong to you. It’s pure science, physics. The stars have always belonged to the night sky, but since when has the night sky belonged to one of its insignificant stars?

Tales of Greyria 

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