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#i had never even experienced death before and then all of a sudden i was engulfed in it and i just dont know how to come back from it.

fvsm4x · 4 months

Text

☆FIRST LOVE [Gojo Satoru]

☆ SUMMARY: Months have passed since you slept with Gojo. And during that time, gojo seemed to avoid you, hurting your feelings in exchange without knowing.

— C.W: Gojo Satoru x female reader , angst to fluff

— WORD COUNT: 2k+

— TAGLIST: @starlightanyaaa @froufrousnowman @101strawberries101 @dazaisfavgf @the-lazy-perfectionist @prettyfacedream

JJK MLIST | GOJO SATORU MLIST

It has been a considerable amount of time since the last interaction you had with Gojo. Days turned into weeks, and then a whole month passed by. And now, two months have gone by since that unforgettable night when the two of you shared an intimate connection after getting a little too tipsy in a bar.

However, ever since that night, something changed. Gojo started to distance himself from you, avoiding any kind of interaction and making a conscious effort to stay out of your way. It's as if he's intentionally ignoring your presence, and any attempts to reach out to him through calls or texts are met with silence, with the messages sitting in the "delivered" status but never being read.

The pain in your heart is almost unbearable. You find yourself constantly questioning what went wrong, racking your brain for any possible misstep or disappointment that could have caused this sudden shift in Gojo's behavior. The thought that the night you shared was a mistake weighs heavily on your mind, causing immense emotional distress and self-doubt.

What makes this pain even more agonizing is the fact that you have harbored deep feelings for Gojo since your teenage years. From the moment you first laid eyes on him, there was an undeniable attraction and admiration that only grew stronger with time. The realization that he may not feel the same way about you is a devastating blow to your heart and soul.

But you find it difficult to place the blame solely on Gojo. After all, he is not just an ordinary person. In the world of jujutsu sorcerers, he holds immense importance and influence. He is widely recognized as the strongest sorcerer, possessing unparalleled strength and abilities. Not only that, but he has been blessed with not just one, but two curse techniques, making him a force to be reckoned with. His very existence has the power to shift the delicate balance of the world.

In contrast, you see yourself as someone insignificant in comparison. While you do possess the ability to see curses, just like Gojo, you feel like a mere observer in the grand tapestry of the jujutsu world. You don't hold any significant position or power, and you struggle to find a sense of usefulness or importance in comparison to someone like Gojo.

But little did you know, gojo had a reason for doing so.

Ever since that night you two shared, gojo started to harbor feelings, he had never felt before, it felt weird. As if butterflies were flying around in his stomach and his heart always skipping a beat when he sees you.

The mere thought of you brought a deep blush to his cheeks, and he couldn't help but feel a mixture of excitement and nervousness whenever he was in your presence. It was as if his entire world had been turned upside down, and he couldn't quite comprehend the intensity of these newfound emotions.

He had never experienced this kind of feeling before, and he couldn't quite put his finger on what it was. It was a strange sensation that consumed him, making him feel like he was on the verge of death if he didn't see you. Thinking he might be sick, he sought out Shoko and poured out his troubles to her.

Sitting in front of Shoko, who calmly sipped her warm coffee, he couldn't contain his panic any longer. "Shoko, I think something's wrong with me. I feel like I'm dying!" he exclaimed, jumping up from his chair and pacing back and forth in the room.

"The mighty Gojo Satoru is sick? That's a first," she joked, a soft chuckle escaping her lips. It was rare to see the strongest sorcerer in such a state of distress.

"I'm serious, Shoko! Every time I see her, I feel strange... My face turns red, my stomach does somersaults, and my heart skips a beat!" he whined, desperation evident in his voice. "Am I going to die, Shoko?"

Shoko looked at him with wide eyes, taking a moment to process his words before asking, "Do you mean y/n?"

Gojo nodded, his expression filled with worry. "Yeah..."

Setting her coffee down on a nearby table, Shoko turned to Gojo with a mischievous smirk. "Oh no! You‘re going to die satoru." she sarcastically exclaimed.

Gojo's eyes dropped immediately as his panic intensified. "What? But I can't die yet... I'm still young."

Narrowing her eyes at him, Shoko chuckled softly. Gojo approached her, placing his hands on either side of her, trapping her against the chair. "Why are you laughing?!" he shouted, his grip on the chair tightening.

"Do you want to know the name of your sickness, Satoru?" Shoko asked, leaning against her palm.

"Of course!" he replied eagerly.

"You're lovesick," she stated matter-of-factly.

Gojo's eyes widened at her words. Lovesick? Did that mean he was in love with you? The mere thought of it caused his face to flush a deep shade of red. "W-what!? No, I'm not in love with her," he denied, his voice wavering.

"Look at you, all embarrassed... I can't believe the all-mighty Gojo Satoru has finally fallen in love," Shoko sighed. "I feel bad for y/n."

"What am I supposed to do?! I've never been in love before," Gojo whined, his distress evident.

"Well, talk to her more often, take her out on dates... I don't know much about love, I've never experienced it myself, who knows maybe she‘s feeling the same." Shoko suggested.

"But... I've been ignoring her for the past two months," Gojo confessed.

"Oh," Shoko facepalmed. "Why are you so stupid.“

„I‘m not stupid!“

Suddenly, the door swung open, and you entered the room, clutching some medical papers in your arms. "Shoko, I got the-" you began, but your words trailed off as you looked up and took in the scene before you.

Your heart momentarily stopped as you saw Shoko sitting in the chair, with Gojo leaning over her, his hands on either side of the chair, effectively trapping her inside. A wave of unease washed over you. Had you interrupted something? They were too close for your comfort, and you couldn't help but wonder if there was something going on between them. Was that why Gojo had been ignoring you?

The pain in your heart was palpable, and your once bright smile faded into a crestfallen expression. With a heavy sigh, you cast your gaze downward, unable to bear the sight before you any longer. "Sorry for interrupting," you managed to utter, your voice laced with disappointment and a hint of resignation. "I'll bring the papers back later." Without waiting for a response, you turned on your heels, your footsteps heavy with a mix of sadness and frustration, and closed the door with a loud thud.

"Wait!" you heard a voice call out from behind the door, but you continued walking away, unable to bear the sight of them together. The sound of their voices faded as you distanced yourself from the room.

Meanwhile, inside the room, Gojo removed himself from the chair and took a step back, his gaze fixed on the closed door where you had stood just moments ago. His thoughts were interrupted by a voice, breaking through his contemplation.

"Don't drag me into this," Shoko's voice cut through the silence, her eyes boring into Gojo's. He met her gaze with a glare, unsure of how to respond.

"She probably misunderstood. Go talk to her before it's too late," Shoko advised, her tone firm. "Now, whoosh," she added, pointing her finger towards the door. "Get out."

—-

Over the next few days, something strange happened. Instead of Gojo avoiding you, you found yourself avoiding him. Even though Shoko had encouraged him to talk to you, he still kept his distance. Deep down, Gojo knew he was in love with you, but he didn't know how to act around you.

He was scared of doing something wrong and embarrassing himself. He couldn't quite grasp the fact that he was in love with you. He thought it was just a small crush that would eventually fade away, but it didn't. Every day, he felt more desperate to talk to you, but he couldn't bring himself to approach you.

Then, one day, you bumped into him while he was on his way to a mission. You couldn't take it anymore. Your heart hurt every time you wanted to talk to him but held back. The constant avoidance had taken a toll on you, and the pain of unspoken affection had become unbearable. You couldn't bear the uncertainty anymore and wanted to confess your feelings to Gojo, even if it meant facing rejection. You just wanted closure, hoping that even if he didn't feel the same way, you could move on from this torment.

So, there you were, standing behind Gojo as he walked towards the car that would take him on his mission. He was avoiding you again, but this time, you decided to take a leap of faith. You called out to him, "Satoru!" He flinched and turned to meet your gaze.

"Satoru," you spoke with a shaky breath, "You know, back in our teenage years, I had this crush on you. Silly, right? I mean, I never thought it would lead anywhere. We were friends, and I kept my feelings under wraps. Fast forward to that night we spent together – it felt like a breakthrough. I let myself hope that maybe, just maybe, there was something more between us. But then you started avoiding me like I had the plague, and it hit hard. But, you know, I tried to brush off the awkwardness, thinking maybe I misread things. Yet, every time we crossed paths, it felt like there was this unspoken tension, a lingering question that neither of us dared to ask. I couldn't shake the feeling that something had shifted, and it was driving me crazy. So, here's the deal, Satoru – If you don't see us as more than friends, I want you to say it. I'm not asking for poetic rejection; I just need the truth. So, Satoru, whether it's a yes or a no, I just need to hear it. I'm not looking for pity or grand gestures, just a straightforward answer.“

Your breath hitched with each word. Your gaze, usually steady, faltered, found solace in staring at the ground, avoiding the intensity of his eyes.

Gojo's eyes widened in surprise as your words hit him. He turned around completely, staring at you in disbelief. His breath hitched, and he felt his heart racing unexpectedly. Your confession catched him off guard,

In an instant, Gojo's initial disbelief transformed into a genuine smile, a glimmer of happiness breaking through. Without a second thought, he closed the distance, wrapping you in a tight embrace. Your attempt to speak was interrupted by his sudden hug,

"I've been an idiot for avoiding this for so long." He whispered

You tried to gently push him back, insisting, "I just need an answer, satoru" but Gojo held on,

"That scene you saw with Shoko wasn't what it seemed," he admitted, a sheepish smile forming. "I was actually talking to her about my feelings for you. I realized I've been an idiot for not realizing it sooner." He continued, "After that night we spent together, I started feeling all weird – butterflies and my heart doing somersaults. I thought I was sick or something, so I avoided you. Stupid, right? But now, I don't want to run away from it anymore. I like you, Y/N."

Your eyes widened at Gojo's unexpected confession. The weight of the unspoken feelings suddenly lifted, "Wait, you... like me?" you stammered, trying to process his words. Gojo chuckled, his hand rubbing the back of his neck

"Yeah, more than I thought. I was just too dense to realize it. And I'm sorry for avoiding you; I thought I was going crazy with those feelings."

Gojo, still smiling, took a step closer. "So, how about we stop avoiding and start enjoying these feelings?" he suggested, his gaze softening. Without waiting for a response, he leaned in, capturing your lips in a gentle, yet lingering kiss.

#[♡’—𝐟𝐯𝐬𝐦𝟒𝐱‘𝐬 𝐰𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬｡•́]#jujutsu kaisen #gojo satoru #satoru gojo #gojo x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #gojo satoru x reader #gojo x y/n #jjk gojo #jjk x reader #gojo x you #satoru gojo x reader #gojou satoru x reader #gojou x reader #gojo angst #gojo saturo

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littlejuicebox · 2 months

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GINAAA MY GIRL!

Sending you a dadstarion prompt because you already know I LOVEEE your dadstarion content.

How did Tav find out she was pregnant with baby Gale? And how did Astarion react to the news?! Inquiring minds want to know.

To have and to hold.

Such a lovely prompt, my friend! Hope you like it!

Summary: Astarion turned mortal a few months ago, and this is his first-time experiencing illness of any kind. Unfortunately, as soon as he recovers, you start to show signs of sickness as well. Your condition is a bit different from his, though. (For more of this series check out the ‘Dadstarion’ section of my master list.)

Tags/Warnings: Dadstarion, domestic af, fluff, talk of illness, talk of vomiting, the mildest of angst with the mostest of comfort, pregnancy, etc.

A/N: I work in healthcare, not law, so I can’t guarantee the legalese is accurate lol.

Word count: 2.3K

-----

“Don’t come closer, darling, I’m disgusting.” Astarion groans from where you find him one morning, curled up on the bathroom floor.

It had been a few months since Gale of Waterdeep cast Wish, and from that moment until now the retired rogue had been a happy, healthy mortal. There were so many benefits to curing his vampirism that the elf never fully considered one of the major downsides… illness.

He’d never experienced a malady like this in his life. At least not in the one he could remember.

It’s horrible.

How had his little love or any of his friends endured this, more than once, in the past ten years?

Astarion is quite certain he contracted food poisoning from that questionable slab of salmon he ate at the Blushing Mermaid yesterday evening. He never did understand why you liked eating at that lowbrow tavern in the first place.

You crouch to examine your husband, pressing a soothing hand onto his forehead before running it down to cup his cheek.

“Astarion, my love, you have a fever.” You murmur, frowning with concern as you push sweaty curls from his face.

“Please make more obvious observations, dear,” Astarion gripes as he forces himself to sit up, still clutching his stomach. Gods, the vile churning in his gut is incessant.

He’s about to continue on with his quip, but the sudden urge to be sick forces the elf to shut up and scramble to the toilet. You hear the sounds of violent retching moments later.

“We are never going back to the Blushing Mermaid,” Astarion grumbles once the wave of illness subsides. His face is pressed against the toilet; all sense of decorum is gone. The rotten fish poisoning his insides won over any bits of pride he might have been clinging to.

You move to grab a wash rag, dampening it under the tap before kneeling back down by your husband.

“Poor thing,” You coo, folding the cloth in half before dabbing it against the back of Astarion’s neck, hoping to ease the fever.

The elf’s eyes flutter closed as he allows you to fawn over him for a moment. And then he groans and flicks his hand, palm faced downward, as if trying to shoo you away. His voice is hoarse when he says, “Just leave me here and go get ready for your meeting, darling. I’ll be fine.”

“In sickness and in health, remember?” You ask, running the cool cloth over Astarion’s face, causing him to sigh thankfully at the slight relief, “I’ll send word to the other Counsellors to inform them that I won’t be attending. You’ve never been ill before; I don’t want to leave you like this. Wyll can fill me in later.”

“Yes, ‘in sickness and in health’ and all that, darling, but those vows also included ‘until death do us part’ and I was an immortal vampire when we made them. So you were technically entering that verbal contract under false pretenses, which one could argue means it’s null and void. Go to the meeting, it’s—“

Astarion almost manages to finish his rambling legalese before more putrid liquid spews out of his mouth. When he’s finished vomiting, he whines again, any bit of stubborn resilience and feeble attempts at selflessness abandoned.

“On second thought, maybe you should stay here,” He says, his chest heaving with exertion as he clenches his eyes shut, “Please tell me you have a spell for this.”

“Unfortunately not, my love. I only have a spell for curses. Best I can do is half a bottle of Elixir of Health, some ginger-peppermint tea, and a bath.” You sigh, already crossing the bathroom on your way to the tub. You fiddle with the taps for a moment to start the bath and then begin to pour oils into the flowing water.

“Deal,” Your husband mutters, peeling off his sweat-soaked night shirt, “But none of that vile honey you got at the market here in town for my tea; I want the one Shadowheart and Lae’zel sent from Neverwinter.”

“Anything you say, Lord Ancunin.” You joke, rolling your eyes at your husband’s fussiness. He’d barely regained his sense of taste a few months ago and already favored upscale ingredients and meals, as if mortal food hadn’t been but ash in his mouth for two hundred years.

The elf glares at your insolence but doesn’t retort; he’s too busy trying to keep himself from vomiting again.

The following morning, Astarion wakes feeling much better. Practically brand new, in fact. It seems the potion and your strange flower child medicine must have done the trick. He sighs a breath of relief and then rolls to snuggle against you for a few more precious moments. He reaches his arms out and grasps at nothing but air.

The silver-haired elf immediately frowns and sits up. That’s exceptionally odd. You were not a morning person; you never had been in the ten years he’d known you. You always slept in longer than him, even in the wilds. On more than one occasion he’d had to lure you out of your nearly comatose slumber with the tempting smells of coffee and breakfast.

Astarion hears you gagging in the bathroom and goes to investigate. He soon finds you clinging to the toilet, practically mirroring how he looked the day prior.

“Oh no, little love, do you think you have food poisoning, too?” He questions, frowning slightly before kneeling down to press his hand against your forehead just like you’d done to him, “No fever, though.”

You whine, leaning into your husband’s hand before grumbling, “Damn the Blushing Mermaid straight to Stygia! Why do I even like that place, again?”

Astarion laughs, “I’ve been wondering the same thing for years, dear. I hope now you’ll finally reconsider. Do you want some tea and a bath?”

“Please,” You say, just before another wave of nausea hits you, forcing you to throw your head into the toilet and gag. Frustratingly, not much actually comes out despite the waves of sickness coursing through your body.

Gods, you wish you could simply vomit and feel relief.

Astarion begins to prepare the appropriate remedies, much like you’d done for him the day before. Thankfully, you seem to recover much faster than he did, and by midday you look and feel completely normal.

Good thing, too. You two were out of any elixirs that may have helped you had your ailment been as severe as Astarion's.

“Perhaps I’m just a better healer than you, darling.” The silver-haired elf teases as the two of you take afternoon tea in the sunroom.

“Perhaps I’m just stronger and more resilient than you, my love.” You retort, wrinkling your nose in jest at your husband.

He chuckles softly and then presses a kiss to your nose, “Agree to disagree.”

Astarion thinks the two of you are past this bit of bad luck, but when he wakes the following morning, he hears you retching once again.

When the elf finds you in the bathroom, appearing as almost an exact repeat of yesterday, though perhaps a bit worse, his brow furrows.

“Darling, I'm worried now. You look more ill than before. Perhaps we should take a trip to Jaheira? I can head to the apothecary for another Elixir of Health while she looks you over.” He murmurs gently, extending his hands to pull you to your feet.

You simply nod in agreement, too nauseated to do more than follow your husband’s lead as he slips you into a set of robes and ushers you into the carriage.

When Astarion returns to Jaheira’s after dashing out to the apothecary, he finds you sitting at the druid’s dining table. The two of you stop whatever hushed conversation you’d been having and turn to look at him in unison.

“Feeling any better, Tav?” He asks, coming to stand by your side before placing a worried hand upon your shoulder. You simply cover your hand with his and nod in response.

“Much better,” You say, flashing your husband a small smile. Something about your expression looks hazed, as if you’re stuck in a daydream. Poor thing, you're probably exhausted and experiencing brain fog.

“I’m sure you’ll be just fine with the teas and medicinals I’ve given you,” Jaheira assures, her eyes flickering between the two of you. She grins for the briefest moment before falling back into her typical, more serious demeanor.

Astarion swears he feels like something is off, but when he turns to give you a questioning look, you’re the picture of happiness as you sip from your tea cup, finishing it off.

Well, at least you’re doing what Jaheira has prescribed.

“What about the Elixir of Health I’ve just purchased?” Your husband asks, lifting the bag in his hand, “Will that help?”

“Oh, I recommend you keep it for something else. I don’t think Tav needs it for this,” The druid responds before standing, signaling it’s the end of the visit. She was always quite straight forward and lacking in certain genteel social graces, in Astarion’s opinion.

“Now if you’ll excuse me, I have a meeting with the Harpers.”

You quickly bid your goodbyes and Astarion helps you back into the carriage, eager to get you back to bed so that you can sleep off the rest of this sickness.

Astarion notices you’re uncharacteristically quiet on the carriage ride home. He typically doesn’t mind when you’re in one of your pensive, stoic moods. But this illness of yours had him more anxious than usual and he had to know more about Jaheira’s examination results, if only to ease his own worries.

“Darling,” He starts, taking your hand in his. But you don’t seem to hear him; you’re still lost in your own little world.

“My love,” He says, this time a bit more urgently, squeezing your hand just enough to pull your attention to him, “What did Jaheira say, exactly? Did she mention how long this illness will last?”

“Oh, the nausea will probably go on for a few weeks,” You reply, a goofy, lopsided smile breaking across your face. You cannot stifle your grin at the little secret you know you’ll be unable to keep for more than a few moments longer.

“Weeks?” Astarion questions, his voice pitching up with worry and brows stitching together in concern.

Why in the hells are you smiling? What druid bullshit was in the tea Jaheira gave you?

He folds his arms across his chest, not at all pleased by the lack of seriousness you seem to display. The idea of you being sick for weeks makes his heart hurt and his stomach churn as if he’s still sick. He could never stand to see you uncomfortable.

“Tav, are you drugged? This is serious. I fail to see what there is to be smiling about right now. You’re going to be nauseous for weeks and you can’t use an Elixir of Health? Are you absolutely sure Jaheira even knows what she’s—“

“I’m pregnant, Astarion,” You interrupt, and you cannot help but to laugh at your husband as his mouth hangs open mid-sentence, frozen in shock.

He blinks for a moment or two, otherwise completely still as his brain rushes to process the new information.

When the elf finally regains his composure and finds his ability to speak, he shoots out a flustered, rambled, “Darling, I— I’m sorry, can you repeat that? I’m not certain I heard you correctly. The road is quite bumpy and the wheels of the carriage are loud— I think they need oil— and the horses—“

You laugh and firmly grasp your husband’s hand, wholly capturing his attention before murmuring, “You ridiculous elf. You heard me the first time. I’m pregnant, Astarion.”

You don’t think you’ve ever seen a bigger grin cross your husband’s face.

“Tav, darling, I— gods, just come here to me.”

Astarion’s lips crash into yours, and he’s smiling into the kiss as he threads a hand through your hair, intent on pressing you closer into him. A tiny, delighted hum escapes your husband as he uses the kiss to express all the feelings he cannot yet put into words.

When he finally pulls away, he cups your face with his hands and peppers a few more kisses upon your lips.

“Is this your way of telling me you’re happy about this, Astarion?” You ask, grinning at your husband as he gazes upon you with the most besotted eyes you’ve ever seen.

“Thrilled, my love,” He whispers, before pressing forward to kiss you again, trying to convey the depth of his excitement with his affections. He doesn’t let go of you the rest of the way home, almost desperate to cover you in worshipful kisses, each one a little vow of love to you.

You notice he's unusually quiet, but then, he’s far too busy smiling and smooching to do much talking.

Later that evening, you move to get out of bed and head toward the bedchamber door.

“Ah, ah, ah. Where do you think you’re going, little love?” Astarion calls, already tossing his book aside to follow after you, “What do you need? Let me bring it to you.”

“I just wanted a cup of water, Astarion. I can go get—“ You start, but he quickly presses a kiss to your lips, effectively quieting you.

“Hush, my love. You’re still nauseated and you’re carrying very precious cargo.” He gently chastises as he turns you by your shoulders and steers you back toward the bed.

“You’re being dramatic,” You grumble, sitting back down in the bed and wrinkling your nose at your husband.

“Perhaps,” He agrees, grinning down at you as he gently folds the blankets back around your legs, “But you knew exactly the type of theatrics you signed up for when you married me, darling. 'To have and to hold, to love and to cherish' and all that, hm?”

And in that moment, Astarion was certain he’d never love and cherish anything more than you.

Nine months later, the little silver-haired newborn he held in his arms would prove him wrong.

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tainsan · 6 months

Text

destiny.

➾ synopsis: waking up in the past is a disorienting experience. what’s even worse is it seems like you’re the only person in the world who is experiencing it. so when all of a sudden, a distressed man shows up claiming he has also woken up in the past. you realise he may be the key to your way home, yet he also just so happens to be a member from your favourite kpop group, ateez.

➾ word count: 25k

➾ pairing: idol! San x non idol!reader, soulmate au (kinda)

➾ warnings: slight violence, mentions of death, fluff

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

Sitting regally in front of a beautifully adorned vanity, you are surrounded by your maids who are diligently preparing you for the grand banquet in the royal palace. You take a deep breath, the scent of incense and flowers filling the room, as your maids flit about you, attending to your every need. The dress you are to wear is a magnificent creation of delicate silk, adorned with intricate embroidery and adorned with gemstones that sparkle in the soft glow of the chamber's lanterns. The fabric is a rich shade of deep crimson, the colour reserved for the royal family.

You have always been fascinated by the process of dressing for such occasions. Your maids are skilled artisans, their fingers deft and nimble as they fasten your dress, adjust your ornate hairpins, and adorn you with exquisite jewellery. Your attire is a reflection of your station, a symbol of your lineage, and the embodiment of your role as a princess in the esteemed Joseon Dynasty. Yet, no matter how much you tell yourself, this is your life, you are just not able to get used to it.

Whilst your maids work, your thoughts turn inward. You can't help but feel a sense of unease, a mysterious foreboding that gnaws at your heart. Your life was so normal until you awoke to privilege and luxury, the weight of your responsibilities is never far from your mind. In this moment, with your heart fluttering like a caged bird, you need a respite from the constant attention and the constraints of the role you know you must get used to.

"Could I have a moment alone, please?" you ask your maids softly, your voice tinged with a sense of vulnerability.

The maids exchange glances but nod, their expressions filled with concern for their beloved princess. They step away, leaving you to collect your thoughts. You walk to the large window that overlooks the palace gardens, the night air whispering through the delicate curtains. The view is magnificent, with the moon casting a soft glow over the sprawling landscape. The sky, however, is what captures your attention.

Your eyes fixate on the heavens, your heart racing as you observe the unusual display above. The clouds seem to be moving in strange, swirling patterns, unlike anything you have ever witnessed. It's as if the heavens themselves are painting a picture of a world in turmoil. You shiver, feeling a strange connection to the celestial dance above, as if the heavens are trying to convey a message to you.

The events of the day have been shrouded in mystery and intrigue. Whispers of distant threats have reached your ears, and your ‘father’, the king, has been preoccupied with matters of the state. You've overheard hushed conversations in the palace corridors, and your intuition tells you that today holds more significance than a mere banquet.

As you continue to gaze out the window, your hand instinctively reaches for the silver pendant hanging from your neck, it was the only thing you had kept from your life before this one. It's a reminder of your true home, where you belong. Yet it also reminds you of how far away you are from it.

Your heart aches for a moment of clarity, a deeper understanding of the strange, foreboding feeling that clings to you. You know you can't linger too long; the banquet will soon begin, and your presence is required. But for now, you allow yourself this stolen moment, watching the enigmatic sky and silently praying for a way home and peace in the tumultuous times that lie ahead.

In the midst of your contemplation, you hear a soft, discreet knocking on the ornate wooden door that leads into your chambers.

You turn your head in the direction of the sound, and you call out, "Enter," in a voice just loud enough for the person outside to hear, careful not to disturb the serenity that surrounds you in this grand castle.

The door swings open, and in walks Lady Maid Jiyun, the only person who knows the true depths of your situation. Over the time you've been in this unfamiliar world, you've grown surprisingly close to her, even though she insists she's known you since you were a child. She closes the door behind her with a gentle, muted click, before turning towards you, her eyes cast downward in a gesture of respect.

“Jiyun,”

"Are you ready, your highness?" she questions, her tone respectful but impersonal, echoing the title that has begun to grate on your nerves. In your heart, you know you're not a princess, but a simple girl who owns a café.

"Jiyun, please, you need not talk to me like that when we are alone," you reply with a sigh of frustration. The misuse of your title feels like a constant reminder of the life you've been thrust into, and you long for your old existence.

"It is out of habit, I apologise," Jiyun says, her voice filled with sympathy and understanding. She moves closer, her demeanour less formal in the privacy of your chamber.

"I am not your princess, you know that, Jiyun," you say, your frustration palpable. The weight of the title and the expectations it carries weighs on you heavily.

Jiyun rushes to your side, her voice hushed as she hurriedly whispers, "Do not utter such words so loudly. You know what they will do if they suspect you."

You nod in reluctant agreement. "Yes, I know," you concede, your voice barely above a whisper. "They will call me an alien, throw me into a dungeon and kill me. I know."

The concept of aliens and monsters beyond human understanding has become increasingly popular in this era, with rumours circulating about strange, otherworldly creatures inhabiting the Earth. In a sense, you can relate to those suspicions, for you feel like an alien yourself. The bizarre circumstances that brought you here remain a bewildering enigma. You woke up one fateful day in this body, trapped in a world that feels like an intricate dream.

At first, you believed it to be a nightmare, a surreal experience that couldn't possibly be real. But as the days turned into weeks and then months, you came to the unsettling realisation that this was your life now.

To your amazement, you found yourself in the body of a Joseon Dynasty princess, bearing an exact resemblance to your own appearance in your real life. It was a miraculous twist of fate that allowed you to maintain a semblance of who you once were, but it did little to ease the overwhelming sensation of displacement and the constant yearning for your old life.

You've pondered on it countless times, searching for answers in the depths of your thoughts. Perhaps, you've considered, this is your past life, some inexplicable twist of fate that has sent you hurtling through time. Maybe you were cursed, or perhaps it's a mysterious test that you've yet to fully comprehend. The truth eludes you, shrouded in the uncertainty of your bewildering existence.

You wish more than anything to return to your simple life, the one where you spent your days managing your café, where anonymity was your closest friend, and the only thing you had to worry about was choosing the right blend of coffee for your customers. How you long to wake up in your own bed, in your familiar house, where everything was just as it should be. You yearn for the simple pleasures of life, the mundane joys that once filled your days. The desire to relax in front of your TV and lose yourself in captivating TV shows, or to watch endless fancams of your favourite singers, immersing yourself in their artistry. You long to indulge in the music you love, to turn up the volume on your headphones, letting the melodies envelop your senses and transport you to a world of pure enjoyment.

Those ordinary comforts, the sounds of the city, the aroma of freshly brewed coffee, and the warmth of your own home, are like a distant memory that you yearn to embrace once more.

“Which is why you must keep it quiet,” Jiyun says, her voice full of remorse for you. Jiyun is someone you are forever grateful for.

“Have you found anything to help me get back?”

“Unfortunately, I have yet to find anything of use. The library has many books, yet most of them are just theories.”

Despite the unsettling rumours and tales of aliens and monsters that have gripped the world, Jiyun has remained steadfast in her commitment to keeping you safe. She's been your guiding light, helping you navigate the complexities of this unfamiliar existence. She knows the challenges you face, and the gravity of her responsibility in ensuring your well-being to protect the princess.

Jiyun understands the enormity of your predicament, and she's tirelessly devoted herself to helping you find a way to make sense of this uncanny journey. Her support and guidance are the threads that keep you anchored in this tumultuous world, offering a glimmer of hope amid the chaos that surrounds you.

"Only ever theories. Perhaps we can discover something beyond what's written in books?" you suggest, searching for an elusive solution to your predicament.

"As much as I would love to inquire with others, your highness, you know my limitations in this matter," Jiyun responds, her voice tinged with regret.

You sigh, frustration gnawing at you. "Yes, I'm sorry. I'm just feeling desperate."

Jiyun moves closer, her gaze unwavering, and she bows to you with a warm smile. "We will find a way, your highness. We won't give up."

You offer a grateful smile to Jiyun, her unwavering support, a source of solace in your bewildering existence. She continues, her tone shifting to one of urgency, "Though we must get going. The banquet is to begin prominently."

With a nod, you gather your strength, determined to face the palace banquet and the demands of your role as the princess, even as you yearn for answers and a way back to the life you once knew.

Making your way to the grand banquet hall, you can't help but be awestruck by the opulence and grandeur that surrounds you. The palace's opulent architecture and intricate detailing are a testament to the wealth and power of the king and queen, your parents. Elaborate tapestries hang from the walls, depicting scenes from the dynasty's rich history, and the flickering torch light casts a warm, inviting glow over the intricate designs.

The double doors to the banquet hall swing open, and you step inside. The sight that meets your eyes is nothing short of breathtaking. The hall is a symphony of colours and textures, all bathed in a soft, golden light. Golden silk drapes adorn the walls, cascading like waterfalls of molten sunshine. The ceiling is an intricate masterpiece, a mosaic of gilded patterns and frescoes that tell the stories of the dynasty's heroes and legends.

The long, ornate banquet tables stretch out before you, covered in sumptuous silks and adorned with glistening china and golden cutlery. Each place setting is a work of art, meticulously crafted and sparkling under the ambient light. The scent of exotic, mouthwatering dishes wafts through the air, making your stomach rumble with anticipation.

The room is alive with a hum of activity as nobles and dignitaries from far and wide mingle, their lavish robes and headdresses sparkling with jewels and precious gems. The clinking of glasses and the soft murmur of conversation create a melodious background to the visual spectacle before you.

In the centre of the hall, a grand dais stands proudly, and it's upon this elevated platform that the throne awaits you, its back adorned with a shimmering tapestry depicting the dynasty's emblem. The throne itself is an ornate masterpiece, a creation of carved mahogany and gilded detailing, with plush velvet cushions in rich crimson and gold.

Stepping forward, you can't help but feel like an intruder in this world. The weight of the princess's responsibilities is almost suffocating, but you have no choice but to carry them with grace and dignity. Jiyun, your loyal confidante, is at your side, her presence a reassuring anchor in this sea of uncertainty.

The banquet hall seems to stretch on endlessly, filled with revelry and celebration. The nobles and dignitaries bow respectfully as you pass, their eyes filled with awe and respect. It's a strange dichotomy, for you are not truly the princess they believe you to be, but you play the part with grace and poise.

The table settings are a masterpiece of artistry and craftsmanship. The fine china glimmers in the soft light, reflecting the golden theme of the banquet. Each plate holds a gastronomic masterpiece, a culinary journey of exotic flavours and textures, from delicate dumplings to succulent roasted meats.

The banquet hall is filled with laughter, music, and the intoxicating scent of spices and incense. The musicians play traditional melodies on intricate instruments, filling the air with their enchanting tunes. Dancers in resplendent costumes move gracefully, their motions mirroring the flowing silk of their dresses.

Taking your place on the grand throne, next to your parents, you can't help but be overwhelmed by the majesty of it all. The banquet hall is a breathtaking display of wealth and culture, a testament to the dynasty's grandeur and history. You are a stranger in this world, but for now, you must play your part as the princess, all the while longing for answers and a way back to the life you left behind.

"Why the delay, daughter?" your father inquires in a hushed tone, his curiosity evident as he awaits your arrival.

"I apologise, Father," you respond, bowing your head as a sign of respect. "It took longer than expected to prepare."

"Have no worry, my dear," your mother chimes in from beside you, her voice filled with warmth.

Over the two months that you've spent in this strange world, you've come to realise how caring and kind the queen is. Her compassion is matched by your father's unyielding strength and determination. Together, they make a formidable team that rules their kingdom with wisdom and grace. Their subjects hold them in high regard, and the feeling is reciprocated.

The bond between your parents is evident to all who know them. Their love is the bedrock of the dynasty, and it resonates in every aspect of their rule. The kingdom flourishes under their leadership, and it's clear that they not only love their people but are deeply loved by them in return.

The grand banquet commences with a flourish of activity. The banquet hall is now abuzz with life as nobles and dignitaries from all corners of the kingdom gather, their resplendent attire creating a kaleidoscope of colours that mirrors the opulence of the event. The rich, melodic sounds of traditional instruments and the rhythmic beat of drums fill the air, setting the stage for a night of revelry.

The banquet tables are a sight to behold, adorned with golden candelabras that cast a warm, flickering light over the ornate settings. The aroma of exquisite dishes wafts through the hall, a symphony of flavours and spices that tempt the senses. Guests fill their plates with delicacies, from succulent roasted meats to fragrant rice dishes, each bite a culinary delight.

You, too, are captivated by the festivities. For a moment, your worries and the strangeness of your situation melt away. You find yourself caught up in the joy of the evening, watching as people laugh, chat, and share stories, the room alive with the clinking of glasses and the gentle hum of conversation.

The dance floor is a whirlwind of vibrant colours and graceful movement. Dancers in splendid attire twirl and spin, their footsteps matching the rhythm of the music. The dancers' costumes shimmer as they move, creating a visual spectacle that enchants all who watch.

At the head of the banquet hall, your father, the king, stands engaged in conversation with a group of merchants and nobles. He listens attentively to their concerns and disputes, displaying the unwavering resolve and wisdom that have earned him the respect of his subjects. Your mother, the queen, stands beside him, offering her insights and guidance, her caring nature a comforting presence amidst the discussions.

As you watch your parents in action, it's clear how they've earned the love and admiration of their people. The way they handle disputes and settle matters demonstrates their commitment to maintaining peace and justice within the kingdom. The hall may be filled with merriment, but their responsibilities as rulers are never far from their minds.

However, amidst the festivities and the rhythmic music, a strange feeling creeps over you. It's as if an invisible force is tugging at your senses, urging you to pay attention. Your gaze is drawn to the towering double doors that lead into the banquet hall, their grandeur a stark contrast to the vibrant revelry within.

You can't quite put your finger on it, but an unease washes over you, and you sense that something significant is about to happen. It's as if the very air in the room holds its breath, waiting for the storm that's about to descend. Your heart races, and you can't shake the feeling that those two wide doors may soon reveal a momentous event that will change the course of the evening and, perhaps, your own destiny.

"Jiyun," you call out to your trusted maid, and she appears at your side with remarkable swiftness, her head respectfully bowed.

"Yes, your majesty?" she replies, her voice filled with unwavering loyalty.

"Have you sensed it too?" you inquire, a tinge of apprehension in your voice.

"Sense what, your majesty?" Jiyun asks, her eyes focused on your every word.

"The feeling that something unexpected is about to transpire," you explain, your gaze shifting toward the grand doors as if they hold the key to the looming uncertainty.

The second you utter your words to Jiyun, a sense of foreboding hangs heavy in the air, and the atmosphere in the banquet hall takes on an eerie stillness. Before you can even finish your sentence, the grand double doors, adorned with exquisite carvings, burst open with a thunderous boom, sending the revelry to an abrupt halt.

In a chaotic rush, two guards burst into the hall, struggling to restrain a shirtless man who seems to be writhing and resisting their grasp. The unexpected intrusion sends ripples of shock through the assembled nobles and dignitaries. The musicians abruptly silence their instruments, and the dancers come to a standstill, their expressions a mix of curiosity and trepidation.

The king and the queen, who had been engaged in discussions with the merchants, rose swiftly from their thrones. Their expressions shift from surprise to stern authority as they take in the unfolding scene.

"What is the meaning of this intrusion?" the king bellows, his voice carrying the weight of his authority. His words echo throughout the grand hall, quelling the previous merriment with an air of solemnity. The sudden silence is broken only by the shuffling of feet as the guards continue to drag the shirtless man toward the thrones, his struggles growing more frenzied. It appears as if the man has tattoos adorned all over his body and for some reason you cannot help but have an awful feeling of recognition as you peer at him.

The queen stands regally at the king's side, her countenance reflecting a mixture of concern and determination. The courtiers in attendance exchange hushed whispers, speculating on the nature of the commotion, while a palpable tension fills the room.

The shirtless man's writhing and protests become more desperate, and his incoherent mutterings are barely discernible over the hushed murmurs of the crowd. The guards eventually manage to bring him to a halt, though his wild, dishevelled appearance remains a stark contrast to the opulence of the banquet hall. Throughout all of this, his head remains bowed, nobody able to see his face.

The man is positioned before the thrones, on his knees, the king's piercing gaze fixates on him, his face an impenetrable mask of authority and curiosity. The queen, her hand resting lightly on the arm of the throne, watches with an unwavering presence. The courtiers wait with bated breath, their eyes darting between the king, the queen, and the dishevelled intruder, uncertain of what will transpire next in this unexpected turn of events.

The dishevelled intruder, who had been forcibly brought before the king, stands silent and disoriented as the guards explain their discovery.

“We found him outside the palace, lurking and behaving suspiciously, which prompted our cautious approach.” The guard's voices are tense as they speak, “this man, in his moments of distress, declared that is from a different time, claiming he does not belong here.”

The king and queen share nervous glances before peering back at the guards who are cautiously watching over the man.

“Your highnesses, I fear that he is an alien.”

The hushed shock that washes over the assembly is palpable. Whispers of fear and disbelief ripple through the room like an unsettling breeze. The nobles and courtiers exchange uneasy glances, their expressions a mixture of curiosity and trepidation.

The king, his brows furrowed in contemplation, leans forward on his throne, his eyes fixed on the man before him. The queen stands beside him, her poise unwavering as she assesses the unfolding situation.

The courtiers remain silent, awaiting the king's judgement.

In the midst of the whispers and speculation, the king calls upon the disoriented intruder, “lift your head boy, make your presence known.”

The man obeys, and as he raises his eyes to meet the king's gaze, a collective gasp sweeps through the room.

Your heart stops in your chest and you cannot believe your eyes.

The man who stands before you bears a striking resemblance to San from Ateez, the boy group you fervently fangirled over in your previous world. His appearance, his features, the way he holds himself, all are uncannily reminiscent of your idol.

His eyes scan the bewildering faces of the courtiers, and it's evident that he's utterly lost and bewildered in this foreign world. His expression reflects a deep sense of longing, as if he's desperately searching for a familiar face or a comforting presence.

"What is your name, young man?" the queen questions, her voice carrying a tone of cautious empathy. It's clear that she feels a sense of compassion for the disoriented intruder, even as the mystery of his presence looms.

"Choi San," he responds, his voice tinged with a mixture of fear and confusion.

The moment those two simple words leave his lips, a wave of emotion crashes over you. It's not just the sight of an idol you adore, but the realisation that he, too, has been uprooted from his world and thrust into this unfamiliar one, much like yourself. The overwhelming weight of this revelation washes over you.

“He doesn't look like an alien.” the king says, his eyes scanning San diligently.

“I’m not, I swear. I have no idea where I am. I woke up and I was in this random forest surrounded by people I have never seen before.”

"Show respect to your king and queen," the guard to Choi San's left commands, his voice stern and unyielding. With a swift motion, he strikes San's back, causing him to stumble forward and crash onto the polished floor. San's palms catch his fall just in the nick of time, and you can't help but feel a pang of sympathy for him. The image of his fall, the vulnerability of the idol you used to admire, stirs a mixture of emotions within you.

The desire to rush down there, to offer comfort and understanding, wells up within you. You long to convey to him that you share the same strange predicament, that you, too, have been thrust into this unfamiliar world. But you understand the delicate balance that hangs in the air, the potential for suspicion and chaos that could arise if your secret were to be revealed.

The room watches in tense silence as San struggles to regain his composure. He rises to his feet, a mixture of embarrassment and confusion etched on his face. His eyes dart around the room, searching for some semblance of familiarity, some connection to the world he once knew.

You can't help but notice the vulnerability in his eyes, a silent plea for understanding and assistance. Your heart aches for him, knowing that you share this extraordinary journey and the burden of its mysteries. But for now, you remain on your elevated throne, concealing your true identity and the emotional turmoil that brews beneath the surface, for the sake of the kingdom, the king, and the queen who have so graciously extended their protection and hospitality to you.

The air in the grand banquet hall crackles with tension, as everyone grapples with the enigma of the stranger who claims to be from a different time, a supposed alien who defies all reason and explanation. The room remains suspended in a moment of uncertainty, and the world as you know it seems to hang in the balance, poised on the brink of an extraordinary revelation.

You exchange a swift, knowing glance with Jiyun, her eyes are filled with concern, mirroring the emotions that churn within you.

“Show him to the dungeon, tomorrow he will be sent back to where he belongs.” The king bellows, his voice stern as your eyes narrow in fear.

In a fleeting moment, San's eyes lock with yours, and your heart leaps in your chest. The intensity of that brief connection sends a shiver down your spine, and you can't restrain the tears that well up in your eyes as you witness the guard seizing him and forcibly dragging him away from the grand hall.

A sense of dread envelops you, and the heaviness in your chest becomes suffocating. You share a wordless glance with Jiyun, who is already formulating a plan to aid San. Her gaze meets yours, and she nods gently, a silent assurance that she is committed to helping him. With that unspoken understanding, the weight that had burdened your heart begins to lift, replaced by a glimmer of hope that you may be able to make a difference in this unexpected turn of events.

With a deep breath, you compose yourself as the king commands the musicians to resume their melodies. The haunting, suspended atmosphere in the room gradually gives way to the spirited tunes of the instruments, infusing the space with renewed vitality. The mood in the grand banquet hall begins to shift, and the weight of the unexpected intrusion is momentarily eased by the enchanting melodies that fill the air.

The grand palace lies hushed and dark, save for the soft, flickering glow of the torches that line the hallways. It's the deep of night, the hour when even the most vigilant souls have succumbed to slumber. The world outside your window is cloaked in darkness, with only a few distant stars punctuating the sky.

In the seclusion of your chamber, you pace restlessly, the pattern of your footsteps a silent testament to your growing anxiety. The ornate furnishings and intricate tapestries seem to close in around you, their grandeur and opulence providing little comfort. You can't stop your heart from racing in your chest, its frenetic rhythm echoing the turmoil of your thoughts.

You cast occasional glances at the window, hoping to catch a glimpse of the first pale light of dawn, a harbinger of the world's awakening. Your hope lies in the arrival of Jiyun, who promised to fetch something that might provide a connection between you and San, the ‘stranger’ who shares your extraordinary predicament.

Minutes stretch into hours as you wait in solitude, each moment feeling like an eternity. The silence in the palace is profound, the hush of night amplifying every creak of the floor and rustle of the curtains. You can almost hear the beating of your own heart, a relentless reminder of your desperate circumstances.

As the night wears on, you recall the mysterious events that unfolded during the banquet. The revelation of San's presence, the shared bond of otherworldly displacement, and the unspoken promise of hope—all weigh heavily on your mind. You can't help but wonder if there's a connection between the two of you that defies all logic, a connection that Jiyun might be able to unearth.

The anticipation gnaws at you, the longing for answers and a sense of purpose driving you to pace even faster. You're acutely aware of the significance of the cloth Jiyun is meant to bring, and the potential it holds to unveil the truth of your peculiar journey.

With each passing moment, your anxiety intensifies, and the minutes tick away, carrying with them the uncertainty of your fate. You can only hope that the arrival of dawn will herald the arrival of Jiyun and, perhaps, the answers you so desperately seek.

As you continue to pace around your room, the waiting becomes almost unbearable. The faintest light begins to seep through the edges of your window, heralding the impending dawn. Just when your hope is beginning to wane, a soft knock at the door breaks the silence.

You rush to the door and swing it open to reveal Jiyun, her face etched with determination. In her hands, she holds a folded piece of cloth and a small bottle containing a mysterious liquid. She steps inside your chamber, and you close the door behind her.

"The plan is ready," Jiyun says, her voice a hushed whisper. "I've brought the cloth and this," she adds, indicating the small bottle. "The liquid inside will temporarily incapacitate the guard who protects the dungeon. It should give you enough time to get the man out of there."

Relief washes over you as you take the cloth and the bottle from Jiyun. The weight of your purpose now feels tangible, as if a glimmer of hope has emerged from the depths of the night.

You listen intently as Jiyun outlines the plan, the details falling into place like pieces of a puzzle. Your heart pounds in your chest, but there is a newfound determination within you. The connection you feel with San, the shared journey you both unknowingly embarked upon, has given you a sense of purpose that propels you forward.

Jiyun hands you a bag filled with essential supplies. Her voice is steady but laced with concern as she explains the plan. "I can provide for you for three days, maybe four at most, without raising suspicion. Within that time, either you or the true princess must return."

You contemplate the necessity of your absence and inquire, "What reason will you give for my absence?"

Jiyun's eyes convey a deep sense of loyalty as she replies, "I will inform them that you've contracted a highly contagious sickness that has left you bedridden and wanting to see no one."

You nod, absorbing the gravity of the situation. Gratitude wells up within you as you look at Jiyun, her gentle smile a source of reassurance. "Thank you, Jiyun. I realise the danger you're putting yourself in for my sake. Your sacrifice does not go unnoticed, and I am profoundly grateful for your unwavering support."

“You would do the same for me, I’m sure.”

With the bag of supplies and Jiyun's invaluable guidance in mind, you make your way through the palace's labyrinthine corridors and hidden passages. The palace, under the cover of night, seems to take on a different character—a mysterious, almost haunting quality. Torches line the narrow passageways, casting long, flickering shadows on the ancient stone walls as you move stealthily through the dark.

The secrets of these passages, entrusted to you by Jiyun, are your lifeline in this mission. You navigate the intricate network with practised ease, ensuring that your movements are discreet, and your presence remains shrouded in the veil of night.

Finally, you reach the entrance to the dungeon, your heart pounding in your chest. Peeking around the corner, you spot the guard responsible for its protection, pacing up and down before the heavy wooden door. The flickering torchlight casts eerie shadows across his face, and the faint echoes of his footsteps reverberate through the corridor.

With impeccable timing, you wait for the moment when the guard turns his back to you, his attention momentarily diverted. Swiftly, you uncap the small bottle and pour its contents onto the cloth, making sure to keep your own hands clear of the liquid. The chemical scent is pungent, and you struggle to suppress a cough as you press the cloth to your mouth to avoid inhaling it.

As the guard's boots echo down the corridor away from you, you seize the opportunity. Soundlessly, you move closer to him, each step taken with the utmost care. With one hand gripping the cloth and the other steadying your movements, you approach him from behind.

When the guard looks away, his focus on the dimly lit passage beyond, you seize your chance. The cloth is pressed firmly against his mouth, and you brace for a moment of hesitation, uncertain of the outcome. The seconds stretch into eternity, but eventually, the guard's struggles wane, and his eyelids droop heavily.

He crumples to the stone floor, unconscious, his keys jangling as they hang from his belt. You offer a silent apology to the fallen guard before deftly retrieving the keys. With trembling hands, you unlock the heavy door to the dungeon, the creaking hinges echoing through the silence of the underground chamber.

The dungeon lies before you, a foreboding abyss. The uncertainty of what awaits within gnaws at you, but your determination is unwavering. The answers that may await you drive you forward as you step into the darkness of the dungeon, the flickering torchlight casting long, wavering shadows on the stone walls.

As you step into the dimly lit dungeon, you carry a candle torch to guide your way through the labyrinthine corridors. The passageway is narrow and oppressive, the cold stone walls seemingly bearing witness to the suffering of countless souls who have languished within its confines.

The cries and wails of the imprisoned echo off the damp stone, reaching your ears with haunting intensity. Desperate pleas for help, mournful laments, and the sound of hands beating against iron bars form a dissonant chorus that seems to reverberate through the very walls themselves.

Each cell you pass houses a new tragedy, a new story of despair, and it takes all your strength to press on, to bear witness to the suffering around you. As you move deeper into the dungeon, the cries of the prisoners grow louder, more heart-wrenching, and your heart aches with empathy for their plight.

But as you reach the very end of the corridor, a silence that is almost palpable falls upon you. It is a silence that is too profound, too ominous, and your heart clenches within your chest as you peer into the last cell. The flickering candlelight reveals a scene that fills you with dread.

There, in the corner of the cell, you find San, curled up in a small, trembling ball. His face is etched with exhaustion and fear, his eyes wide with a mix of confusion and despair. The harsh, cold stones of the dungeon floor serve as his only comfort in this nightmarish world.

You approach the cell, your steps careful and measured, your candle torch casting eerie, flickering shadows on the walls. As you draw closer, you can see the anguish etched into San's features, his ragged clothing and unkempt appearance a testament to the trials he has endured in this unforgiving place.

Your heart goes out to him, the connection you share with this stranger deepening with each passing moment. The dungeon, with its heavy atmosphere and its occupants' mournful cries, bears witness to the suffering of many, but it is San's vulnerability and isolation that capture your attention.

"San," you whisper, your voice a soft, comforting presence in the dimly lit cell. He turns toward you, his eyes glistening with unshed tears, a reflection of the pain and fear that have plagued him.

"Please don't hurt me," his trembling words break your heart, and you struggle to hold back your own tears as you witness his vulnerability.

With gentle assurance, you reply, "I'm not here to hurt you, I promise." Your words are a lifeline, a beacon of hope for the scared and confused young man before you. With the keys in hand, you unlock the cell door and step inside.

San's eyes search your face, filled with a mix of disbelief and curiosity as you offer him some food from your bag. He hesitates before accepting, his trust gradually building as he takes the sustenance you provide.

"Why are you here then? You're the princess, aren't you?" San questions, his voice quivering with uncertainty.

With a deep breath, you choose your words carefully, wanting to ease his fears. "This might sound crazy, but I think we're from the same world."

San's eyes widen in astonishment, his disbelief slowly giving way to hope as he watches you closely. He lifts himself onto his knees to be closer to your level, the shadows of the cell casting eerie patterns on the walls.

"Really? How do you know?" San asks, his voice filled with a glimmer of expectation.

You offer a reassuring smile and pose a question that will connect your two worlds. "Well, I know you're San, Choi San from Ateez, right?"

San's eyes glisten with tears of relief, his voice quivering with emotion as he confirms, "Yes, yes, yes. I am. I'm from Ateez, and it's 2023, not the 1300s." The weight that had burdened his heart is lifted, and the possibility of a return to the world he knows is within his reach. He continues, “what is happening? How did we end up here?”

“I’ll explain as we walk, we need to get out of here.”

San's confusion lingers, but the glimmer of hope in his eyes grows stronger as he stands up. With a sense of newfound determination, the two of you make your way out of the cell, leaving the door unlocked behind you. As you exit the dungeon, you can't help but glance back, knowing that you've left behind the shadows of suffering that still haunt its depths.

Together, you navigate the secret passages that brought you to the dungeon, retracing your steps with the candle torch guiding your way. The path is familiar to you now, and with San by your side, it feels like the journey is filled with a sense of purpose and unity.

The passageway eventually leads you to the royal stables, a place of shadows and echoes, where the silence of the night surrounds you. Jiyun's foresight is evident as you find a horse tethered and ready for your departure. It's a magnificent creature, a steed fit for a princess, and its presence is a testament to Jiyun's unwavering support.

You help San mount the horse, his grip on the reins steady but cautious. The animal is surprisingly calm and cooperative, as if it senses the urgency of your mission. With San in the saddle, you mount your own horse, and together, you prepare to ride into the night.

Making your way out of the royal stables, the world outside awaits you, shrouded in darkness. The streets of the ancient city are quiet, its occupants fast asleep, unaware of the extraordinary events that are unfolding within the palace walls.

The night air is cool and refreshing, and the rhythmic sound of hooves hitting the cobblestone streets resonates through the quiet city. You ride with determination, guiding your horses through the labyrinthine streets, following the route that Jiyun has carefully planned.

With each passing moment, you draw closer to the edge of the city, your breath visible in the cold night air. The feeling of freedom, of escaping the palace and its secrets, surges through you. You and San are bound by an unspoken connection, a shared journey that defies time and place.

The town's lights grow distant, you can't help but steal a glance at San, who rides beside you. His face, once etched with fear and confusion, now carries a glimmer of hope. In the silence of the night, the world holds its breath, and the weight of the unknown future rests on your shoulders.

Together, you ride toward the horizon, leaving behind the palace and the secrets that shroud your extraordinary journey. The path ahead is uncertain, but the possibilities are boundless, and in the darkness of the night, you find a shared purpose that unites your fates in this unfamiliar world.

You and San ride through the night, the rhythmic clatter of hooves against the cobblestone streets gradually fading into the distance. The ancient city of the palace is left behind, its towering walls and mysteries hidden in the darkness.

The first light of dawn tints the horizon and you continue on your journey, venturing into the unknown.

Hours pass, and you ride together, the bond of your shared experience growing stronger with each mile that falls behind you. The quietude of the countryside surrounds you, the only sounds are the rustling of leaves and the gentle song of birds in the distance. San wishes to ask questions, he has thousands on his mind, yet he stays silent as the two of you continue your journey.

Finally, on the horizon, a small town comes into view. Its quaint cottages and bustling marketplaces offer a glimpse of civilization in the midst of the open countryside. With each step you take, you hope to find reassurance and a glimmer of hope in this unfamiliar place.

You and San guide your horses toward the town, a sense of anticipation filling your hearts. The town represents a new beginning, a place where your shared journey can find some direction, where answers may await you, and where the extraordinary circumstances that have brought you together may start to make sense.

Approaching the town's outskirts, the warmth of the rising sun casts a golden glow on the streets and rooftops, and the townsfolk go about their daily routines, unaware of the two strangers who have arrived on horseback.

Among the quaint buildings, you spot a charming cottage with a wooden sign hanging above the door, which reads "The Golden Horseshoe Inn." The inviting aroma of freshly baked bread wafts through the open windows, and the cheerful hum of conversation emanates from within.

You dismount from your horses and tether them to a nearby post before entering the inn. The interior is cosy and warm, with wooden beams and rustic furnishings. A fireplace crackles in the corner, casting a gentle, flickering light that dances across the room. A friendly innkeeper stands behind the bar, wiping down mugs and chatting with a group of locals.

Approaching the innkeeper, you offer a polite smile and address them. "Good morning. My friend and I are in need of a place to stay. Do you have any rooms available?"

The innkeeper returns your smile with a warm one of their own and nods. "How long will you be staying?"

You exchange a quick glance with San before answering. "We're not entirely sure. Perhaps a few days to start with."

The innkeeper retrieves a key from a nearby rack and hands it to you. "Very well. We have a couple of rooms upstairs. You can choose the one you prefer."

You thank the innkeeper and head upstairs with San, the creaking wooden steps leading you to a hallway lined with doors. The rooms are simple but comfortable, each furnished with a bed, a small writing desk, and a window that overlooks the bustling street below.

After inspecting a couple of rooms, you settle on one with a cosy, inviting atmosphere. You take out some coins and return downstairs to pay for the room. The innkeeper accepts your payment with a friendly smile, and you can't help but feel a sense of relief at having found a safe haven in this new world.

With the key to your room in hand, you make your way back upstairs with San.

The moment you are in the room, you hand San some more comfortable clothes than the rags he is currently wearing.

“I forgot to give you these earlier, I’m sorry. Go change, I’ll wait outside.”

"Thank you…" San trails off, his voice tinged with gratitude but hesitating as he doesn't know your name.

You offer a warm smile and reply with your name. San's eyes light up as he hears your name, and he nods in appreciation. With that, you exit the room, leaving him some privacy to get ready.

While San prepares for the day, you make your way downstairs to the inn's tavern, which is located beneath the lodging area. The scent of fresh bread and brewed coffee fills the air, creating a cosy and welcoming ambiance. You take a seat at a wooden table and glance around the room, observing the locals who are starting their day with hearty breakfasts and lively conversation.

You place an order for two breakfasts, ensuring that San will have a warm meal to start the day. As you wait for the food to arrive, you reflect on the journey that has brought you to this new world and the newfound bond you share with San. The townsfolk, too, go about their daily routines, their world untouched by the extraordinary circumstances that have reshaped your lives.

Sitting at the wooden table in the cosy tavern beneath the inn, your gaze is drawn to the staircase that leads down from the upper rooms. Moments later, you watch as San descends the stairs, his steps graceful and fluid.

Even in the plain, old clothes he now wears, there's an undeniable magnetism about him. His raven-black hair framing his face, his features are striking, and his presence exudes a certain charisma that you recognize immediately. It's as if he possesses a natural star quality, a glow that transcends time and place.

A smile tugs at the corners of your lips as you observe him. The way he moves, the confidence in his steps, and the undeniable aura that surrounds him—these are the very qualities that made him an idol in your world. As he reaches the bottom of the stairs and meets your gaze, you exchange a knowing look.

It becomes clear to you that the essence of who San is goes beyond his role as a performer. His appeal, his talent, and his undeniable charm are deeply rooted in his very being. You appreciate that there's more to him than meets the eye, and the unique connection you share in this extraordinary journey only deepens your admiration for the person who is not just an idol but also a fellow traveller in this unfamiliar world.

San takes a seat in front of you at the wooden table, his eyes filled with gratitude as he speaks quietly, "Thank you so much for the help."

"Of course," you reply with a warm smile, appreciating the opportunity to assist someone in this unfamiliar world.

Curiosity sparks in San's eyes as he leans in slightly, his interest piqued. "So how did you know it was me, from Ateez?"

You consider the question for a moment before deciding to reveal the truth. "Well, in our world..." you begin, hesitating for a brief moment.

San's eyes widen with surprise, and he leans in closer, eager to hear more. "What is it?"

You lower your voice, as if sharing a secret. "I may or may not be an Atiny, and I recognized you right away."

A smile spreads across San's face, and a sense of camaraderie fills the air as you both share this unexpected connection. In this extraordinary world and situation, your shared love for Ateez transcends time and place, and you find comfort in the bond that links you together.

"Seriously?" San's eyes widen with a mix of surprise and disbelief.

You nod, your voice earnest as you reply, "Yes, why would I lie about it?"

San chuckles softly, still trying to process the information. "I don't know, that's actually insane, though."

You can't help but smile at his reaction. "I guess so."

San's curiosity shifts to a topic that seems of utmost importance to him. "Who is your bias?"

You raise an eyebrow, a playful smirk on your face. "Is that really what's important right now?"

San's eyes widen, his tone as serious as if discussing a crucial matter. "Yes, very important."

With a mischievous glint in your eye, you respond, "It's a secret."

San grumbles and rolls his eyes, his familiar antics making you giggle. It's reassuring to see that, despite the extraordinary circumstances, he remains somewhat himself from the world you both know.

After taking a bite of his bread, San shifts the conversation, his expression curious. "What do you do? You know, in our world."

You offer a genuine smile as you share your passion. "Oh, I run a cafe in Seoul."

San's face lights up with enthusiasm. "That's so nice! Where is it?"

"It's actually really close to the KQ building, next to the flower shop."

San's eyes widen in realisation. "Wait, really? That's very close. I'll stop by there when we get out."

A bittersweet smile crosses your face as you admit, "If it's still in business."

San's concern deepens as he probes further. "What do you mean?"

You meet his gaze and explain, "Business was really slow when I was there. I've been gone for a few months now, so I doubt it'll still be open."

San's expression turns serious as he processes your words. "Wait a second... a few months?" The realisation dawns on him, and he looks at you with a mixture of surprise and understanding, as the magnitude of your situation sinks in.

“Yeah, I haven’t had the chance to get out due to being a princess,” you look up at San, your eyes grateful as you look at him, “which is why it’s so great you are here. It feels like I have a chance to get home.”

San smiles at you, sympathy and understanding in his eyes as he realises how long you've been trapped in this world. But then, a spark of curiosity ignites in his gaze.

"So, what was the last thing you remember before getting here?" San inquires, his voice filled with intrigue.

You furrow your brow, the memories of that moment still vivid. "I was working in the cafe, and all of a sudden, it just went black. When I woke up, I was in the palace."

San nods in recognition, a shared experience that links your worlds. "Me too," he admits, "I was practising for our comeback. It suddenly went black, and I heard Hongjoong yelling my name. But when I woke up, I was in the forest, wearing the same clothes I had in my 'Warriors' music video."

Your curiosity piques as you catch a detail you hadn't expected. "Wait a second. What music video?"

San's eyes widen with enthusiasm as he realises that you've been out of touch with their latest work. "Oh, you haven't seen it because you've been here!" he exclaims. "I did a dance cover, and that's why I have these tattoos."

You chuckle at his response. "I was wondering if you had gotten so many tattoos in two months."

San laughs, appreciating your humour. "It was just part of the concept. We filmed it in front of the Gyeongbokgung Palace."

San's words strike you like a bolt of lightning, and you find yourself needing to clarify the astonishing coincidence.

"What did you just say?" you inquire, your voice tinged with amazement.

San blinks, seemingly unaware of the profound revelation that's unfolding. "What?"

You lean in closer, your eyes searching his face for any sign of recognition. "Gyeongbokgung. I went there a few months ago, a week before I appeared here. How long has it been since you've been there?"

San's eyes widen in realisation as the pieces of the puzzle start to align. "Uh, well, it was filmed on Wednesday, so... a week ago. Wait."

The implications of your shared experiences weigh heavy on your minds. The timing and location seem more than just a coincidence. It's as if a bridge between two worlds has been formed, connecting the moments you both mysteriously entered this unfamiliar reality.

"You went there a week ago yesterday?" you inquire, your mind racing as the pieces of the puzzle align.

San's eyes light up with realisation as he nods eagerly. "Then it must be something related to Gyeongbokgung!"

The shared excitement between you and San is palpable as you uncover this incredible connection. Gyeongbokgung, the place where you both last remember being in your respective worlds before finding yourselves in this strange new reality, is the common link that binds your experiences.

"We should go there now," you suggest, a sense of urgency in your voice. "It should be here around this time, maybe we can find something to help us."

San nods enthusiastically, his focus now on finishing his meal as quickly as possible. He stuffs down his food, eager to expedite your departure.

Once his mouth is free of food, San inquires, "Do you have a map?"

"Ah, yes," you reply, reaching into your bag to retrieve the map that Jiyun had thoughtfully packed for your journey. Carefully, you unspread the map on the wooden table.

"Okay, so we should be here right now," you say, tracing your location with a finger, "then Gyeongbokgung will be…"

San's eyes follow your finger as he points towards the parchment, spotting the small letters displaying 'palace.' "I see it."

You calculate the distance and the remaining daylight. "If we leave now, we can make it before sundown."

San's determination matches yours as he eagerly exclaims, "Then what are we waiting for?"

With your destination set and a shared purpose driving you forward, you and San finish your meal, gather your belongings, and prepare to embark on a journey that may hold the key to unravelling the mysteries of your extraordinary situation. The tavern, once filled with chatter and the clinking of mugs, now watches you both as you stand, ready to venture into the unknown in search of answers.

You and San make your way to the stable where your horses were kept. The sun is still high in the sky, and a gentle breeze rustles the leaves of the nearby trees. As you approach the stable, the familiar scent of hay and leather fills the air.

However, as you step into the stable, a sense of unease washes over you. One of the stalls is empty, and you immediately notice that your horse is missing. Panic begins to rise within you.

San senses your distress and looks around, his expression mirroring your concern. "Where's your horse?"

You hurry over to the stable keeper, who is tending to the remaining horses. "Excuse me," you say, trying to keep your voice steady, "my horse is missing. Do you know what happened?"

The stable keeper wipes his hands on a cloth and turns to face you. "I'm so sorry, miss. When I went to get their food, your horse got spooked and ran off into the woods. I tried to catch it, but it was too fast."

Your heart sinks at the news, and you exchange a worried glance with San. Losing a horse is a significant setback, and you'll need to find a solution to continue your journey.

San speaks up, "Is there any way we can track it or find it?"

The stable keeper scratches his head, deep in thought. "There are some villagers who know the woods well and might be able to help. But it could take some time."

With no other options, you share a glance with San.

“We can share mine, we have no time to look for it,” San offers and you let out a sharp exhale.

“Okay…”

The stable keeper helps you prepare the horse, ensuring that the saddle and reins are secure. It's not ideal, but you don't have much choice if you want to reach Gyeongbokgung Palace before sundown.

San climbs onto the horse, offering you a hand to help you up in front of him. Settling into the saddle, you can't help but feel the warmth of his presence close behind you. The two of you share a glance, and you notice his red cheeks.

San's concern for your comfort is evident, and he expresses it as you both share the horse. His apology for the close proximity reflects his consideration for your feelings.

"I'm sorry," he says, his voice filled with genuine regret. "I didn't expect us to be so close. I can move back a little if you want. I don't want to make you uncomfortable."

You offer a reassuring smile, eager to put his worries to rest. "It's okay, San. Let's just get to the palace."

Beginning to lead the horse in the direction of Gyeongbokgung Palace, San shifts his position on the saddle, inadvertently causing him to bump forward and press his chest against your back. A rush of warmth fills your cheeks, but you do your best to stay composed.

"I'm so sorry," San says, his face turning a shade of crimson. His embarrassment is evident, and you find his reaction endearing.

You guide the horse along the path, focusing on your destination, when San inquires, "Where should I put my hands?"

Your heart flutters at the question, and you're grateful that you’re facing forward so he doesn't see your flustered expression.

"Just wrap your arms around my waist," you reply. "I don't mind, really."

San hesitates, his concern still evident. "I don't want to make you uncomfortable..."

You smile at his thoughtfulness but gently urge him, "San, please, just hurry up. We need to reach the palace before nightfall."

San follows your instructions and wraps his arms securely around your waist. His touch is gentle, yet you can feel the warmth radiating from his body. It causes you to momentarily lose focus, the surreal nature of the situation overwhelming your thoughts. Never in your wildest dreams could you have imagined being in this position with one of your favourite idols.

San's chest presses against your back, and you can sense the beating of his heart, echoing the rapid rhythm of your own. Both of you are embroiled in this unique experience, and you remain unaware of the thoughts racing through San's mind.

For San, the situation is equally unprecedented. His face is flushed with a bright shade of red, and he holds onto you with a mixture of embarrassment and excitement. The proximity between the two of you, the shared adventure, and the bond that's forming in this extraordinary world are causing his heart to open up in ways he couldn't have anticipated.

With each moment that passes, your connection deepens, and you become a source of support and comfort for each other in this unfamiliar and often challenging world. It's a journey that neither of you could have predicted, but as you ride together, you find solace in the warmth of each other's presence.

Continuing your journey together, San's voice takes on a low, intimate tone. It's as if he wants to keep the conversation between the two of you, sharing this moment in the midst of your unusual adventure. His breath tickles your ear, sending a shiver down your spine and causing goosebumps to rise on your skin.

"Tell me about yourself," he asks, his voice gentle and curious.

You find his proximity comforting and decide to share a piece of your past with him. "What do you want to know?"

San listens attentively, his breath soft against your ear. "What was your favourite part of running the cafe?"

You smile at the memory, feeling a sense of nostalgia for your old life. "I think my favourite part was seeing people come in, enjoying their coffee or a meal, and leaving with a smile. It was like creating a little oasis where people could take a break from their busy lives."

“That’s nice.” San's warm presence and the intimate conversation create a sense of connection that transcends the boundaries of time and place. You find yourself opening up to him, sharing stories from your past and learning more about his own experiences.

"I have an important question," San suddenly says, his tone becoming playful as he awaits your response.

You raise an eyebrow, mirroring his playful tone, "And what would that be, San?"

A mischievous glint dances in San's eyes as he asks, "What's your favourite Ateez song?"

You chuckle gently at his question. "I'm being serious!"

San's playful demeanour and the imagined pout in his voice make you smile. You can almost picture the look he's giving you, having seen countless videos of him making that expression.

"Okay, okay," you reply, "that's a tough question. I tend to like the b-sides more, to be honest."

San encourages you to share more, his curiosity piqued. You reflect for a moment before answering, "Turbulence and Mist have a special place in my heart."

"Really?" San's voice carries a warm and intriguing tone. "Why is that?"

You pause, considering your response. "Well, I was going through a really tough time a while ago. I don't know, these songs just feel like a warm hug. Like someone is there for me."

San listens intently to your words, his heart swelling with compassion and understanding. "I'm glad we could be there for you during that difficult time."

“Thank you,”

San's eyes soften, and his voice takes on a soothing tone as he responds, "You don't have to thank us. Music has a way of reaching people when they need it most, and it's an honour to know that our songs could be there for you during those difficult times."

Tears well up in your eyes as you remember the moments when you turned to music as your solace. You've found comfort and strength in the melodies and lyrics that resonated with your emotions. It's a powerful connection that transcends time and place, and it's something you and San now share.

Drawing closer to your destination, the palace towers in the distance become more prominent, the air is filled with a mixture of anticipation and curiosity. The scenery around you is both breathtaking and mysterious, mirroring the unique connection that has grown between you.

San glances over at you, his curiosity getting the best of him. "Can I ask you something?"

You meet his gaze and offer a warm smile. "Of course."

He takes a moment to gather his thoughts before he finally asks, "Do you have a boyfriend?"

The question catches you slightly off guard, but you answer honestly, "No, I don't have a boyfriend."

San raises an eyebrow, and a playful smile tugs at the corners of his lips. "I didn't expect that."

You chuckle at his response. "What do you mean by that?"

San's gaze softens, and he offers a sincere explanation. "Well, you're really kind, caring, and incredibly determined. Not to mention, you are very beautiful, I guess I thought someone like you would already have someone special in their life."

A heat creeps up on your cheeks as you feel a flutter in your heart. San's compliments catch you by surprise, and you find yourself at a loss for words for a moment. Burying your face in your hands to hide your flustered expression, San watches you with a fond expression.

You smile and say, "Thank you, San. You're pretty amazing yourself."

Hesitating for a moment, unsure if you should say this, you decide to speak. "I have a husband, though."

San's eyebrows shoot up in surprise. "What do you mean? I thought you were single?"

You can't help but grin mischievously before you clarify, "His name is Mingi."

San's incredulous expression is almost comical. "Your bias is Mingi?"

You nod with a playful glint in your eye. "Yes. Why is that such a bad thing?"

San can't help but laugh, "It's not, Mingi is amazing, but come on? I'm here right now. I should be your bias."

You raise an eyebrow, teasing him further, "You have to earn it."

San scoffs before retorting, “what, did Mingi body roll his way into your bias spot?”

“Precisely.”

San leans in closer, a playful glint in his eye. "And what about my cyberpunk performance?"

You contemplate for a moment, then acknowledge with a nod, "Ooh, nice. I have to admit. But Mingi in bouncy was a whole snack."

San pretends to be offended, teasing you back, "What, are you a pervert?"

You protest, "No, you started it!" However, San’s laughter at your reaction causes a wide smile to grow on your face.

San's thoughts drift in the midst of the journey towards Gyeongbokgung Palace, he finds himself mesmerised not only by your unique personality but also by your captivating beauty. He can't help but be struck by the allure of your presence and the way the soft light of the setting sun enhances your features, making you glow in an almost ethereal manner.

To him, you are not just intriguing and kind, but you're also incredibly beautiful, inside and out. Your allure has a magnetic quality that pulls him in, leaving him in awe of the remarkable person he has come to know. The warmth he feels in his heart is not just from the shared connection but from the undeniable appreciation of your inner and outer beauty.

"San?" you question, noticing his distraction and wondering what has captured his attention so deeply.

San blinks, almost like he's been caught in the act of something secret, and quickly replies, "Yes!"

You can't help but chuckle at his somewhat startled expression. "We are here."

The magnificent Gyeongbokgung Palace stands before you, its grandeur and beauty making the journey worthwhile. You both dismount from the horse, and as you step onto the palace grounds, the weight of the world's mysteries and your unique connection continues to loom over your heads.

The palace grounds are a bustling hive of activity, even as the day inches towards twilight. Commoners from all walks of life have gathered to admire the magnificent architecture, wander through the lush gardens, and soak in the historical splendour of Gyeongbokgung Palace.

San and yourself make your way through the lively crowds, you discreetly raise a scarf to drape over your head, partially concealing your face. Though you are not accustomed to the recognition and respect bestowed upon you as a supposed princess in this world, you are aware that you must maintain your appearance. To the people here, you are not the cafe owner from Seoul but a royal figure who demands respect.

Your attire and the scarf shroud your identity, giving you a degree of anonymity as you navigate the palace's vast courtyards and intricate passageways. San walks alongside you, blending seamlessly into the throng of visitors, his presence a source of both comfort and companionship.

The whispers of the crowd, the laughter of children, and the gasps of awe as they take in the grandeur of the palace envelop you. It's a vivid reminder of the rich history that envelops you, and for a brief moment, you forget about the strangeness of the world you've been thrust into. The palace comes alive with the shared fascination of the visitors, and you and San are just two more among the countless souls wandering through its storied halls.

You are keenly aware of the importance of maintaining your facade as you traverse the palace. The scarf that conceals your features becomes your shield, protecting your true identity and allowing you to move freely among the people, your thoughts locked in a delicate balance between the two worlds you now inhabit.

Continuing to meander through the throngs of people, San leans in close to you and murmurs in your ear, "So, what exactly are we looking for?"

You contemplate for a moment, the palace's grandeur and historical significance surrounding you, before replying, "I don't know, maybe something that still exists in our world."

San offers a smile of approval, his eyes crinkling at the corners. "That's a good start. You're super smart."

You chuckle, appreciating the compliment but also trying to play it cool so he doesn't notice the way your heart beats faster, "Stop flattering me; it's not going to make you my bias."

San lets out a laugh and rolls his eyes playfully, his lips curving into a grin. "Well, it's worth a try, right?"

The two of you share a moment of lighthearted banter, the playfulness of your conversation providing a brief respite from the mysteries that shroud your current circumstances.

As you and San navigate the bustling palace, you suggest a plan, saying, "I'll go around the left, and you go around the right. It'll be quicker for us to split up." Your eyes dart around, on the lookout for any sign of noblemen or advisors who may recognize you.

San, however, appears concerned and holds your arm gently, restraining you from moving away. "What if you get in trouble?"

You smile reassuringly and reply, "I'll be fine. I'm more worried about you." You chuckle softly, trying to hide the fluttering sensation that his touch on your arm ignites. "Stay low, and please don't go around announcing you're from another world. If you end up in the dungeon, it won't be as easy for me to rescue you."

Your words carry a sense of caution, the weight of your shared journey growing more apparent as you prepare to part ways temporarily within the palace. It's a moment of both anticipation and apprehension, knowing that your decisions in this unfamiliar world can have unforeseen consequences.

"Just meet me back here in an hour," you say, giving San a warm smile before parting ways.

San nods, his expression affectionate and filled with genuine concern. "Stay safe."

With those parting words, you both venture into different directions within the bustling palace, each with your own quest and the hope of uncovering clues that may lead you closer to understanding the mysteries of your dual existence.

You methodically search through the palace, scouring every nook and cranny without raising suspicion. Every rock, every brick, and every detail of the architecture comes under your scrutiny, yet nothing stands out as the mysterious link between your two worlds. It's a challenging task, as you're not even entirely sure what you're looking for.

After what feels like both an eternity and the blink of an eye, you glance up at the position of the sun in the sky. The hour has nearly passed, and it's time to make your way back to the agreed meeting point. The crowd begins to thin, and you're aware of the increasing risk of drawing attention to yourself if you continue your search.

Heading back to the designated spot, you spot San already approaching, a sense of defeat etched on his face.

When he reaches you, he inquires, "Did you find anything?"

You shake your head, disappointment clear in your expression. "No, nothing. It's hard to look for something when we don't even know what we're searching for."

Desperation creeps into your voice as you continue, "Tell me everything that happened when you were filming, every small detail that could be significant."

San furrows his brows in deep thought, trying to recall every detail from that day. "Well, one of the dancers ripped his pants during a take. There was an odd rock that almost all of us tripped over at one point..."

You press him for more, your sense of urgency growing. "And what else?"

San's eyes light up with realisation. "I don't know if this is relevant, but there was this old lady. She wouldn't leave us alone unless we bought one of her tassels. The owner told us she's always there, selling charms and whatnot."

Your heart skips a beat as San mentions the old lady. The pieces start to fall into place, and you can't help but feel that you're on the verge of a breakthrough. "An old lady? I saw an old lady too! She sold me a charm to bring love into my life."

“She also sold me one for love!” San exclaims as the dots line up in his head also.

Walking together toward the area where your horse is stabled, you and San discuss the topic about the old lady.

"If only she were here right now," San grumbles, his lips forming a pout. "We could see if her charm is what made us end up here."

You both engage in light banter, acknowledging the absurdity of the situation. The prospect of the old lady's charm being the catalyst for your parallel journeys is almost too surreal to contemplate.

Then, unexpectedly, something, no, someone captures your attention. Emerging from the grand palace doors is a woman who looks incredibly familiar. Your heart skips a beat as you experience a moment of déjà vu, as if the universe is playing a cosmic joke on you.

"San," you say, drawing the young man's attention. He had been aimlessly kicking around stones out of frustration.

"I think she's here right now," you explain, your voice quivering with a mix of excitement and disbelief.

“I thought you were smart, that’s impossible,” San pivots to where you're looking, his eyes widening with shock upon seeing the woman exiting the palace.

In an instant, your eyes meet, and an unspoken understanding passes between you. You both know that you must act quickly to seize this unexpected opportunity.

Without a word, you take off running together in the direction of the woman, your hearts pounding with anticipation.

"Lady!" you yell, your voice echoing through the palace courtyard. Your cry catches her attention as you and San draw nearer, but instead of stopping to address you, she immediately turns and bolts away, disappearing into the forest.

Determined, you give chase, your heart pounding as you follow her into the dense woods. It's puzzling how an elderly woman can move so nimbly, but you're driven by the urgency of your quest.

After a few intense minutes of pursuit, you finally manage to close the gap. Your hand lands firmly on her shoulder, bringing her to an abrupt halt. The old lady, her breath laboured and eyes wide, is now captive in your grasp, and you're ready to seek the answers you've been searching for.

San is close behind the two of you and when he reaches you he places his hand on a nearby tree, trying to catch his breath.

"For an old lady, you're really fast," San exclaims, trying to catch his breath.

You can't help but chuckle at his dishevelled state. "Aren't you supposed to be really athletic?" you retort, teasing him lightly.

"In this world, no," San replies, catching his breath before turning his attention to the old lady. "Please, give us answers."

The old lady, her voice hoarse, attempts to catch her breath as well. "I don't know what you're talking about."

San looks at her with an expression of disbelief, as if he can't fathom her response. "Yes, you do. You bolted in the other direction when we approached you."

The lady, appearing somewhat offended, glances between you and San before responding, "Approached? I beg your pardon. How would you like it if two strangers were hurtling towards you?"

You almost burst into laughter at her retort, and you can see the incredulous look on San's face. The situation has taken an unexpected turn.

"Look, ma'am," you interject, trying to steer the conversation in a more serious direction. "We're well aware that you know something about us. We just want some answers."

The lady rolls her eyes before scanning her surroundings as if she's checking for any potential eavesdroppers. This action puzzles both you and San, and you exchange bewildered glances. San simply shrugs his shoulders in confusion, unsure of what to make of this mysterious encounter.

“Not here though,” her tone turns serious as she leads you further into the woods.

The woods, although unfamiliar, have a hauntingly beautiful quality to them. Tall, ancient trees stretch their gnarled limbs towards the sky, forming a canopy of leaves that filter the low sunlight, creating a mystical, ethereal atmosphere. The ground is carpeted with a thick layer of moss and ferns, lending an otherworldly green hue to the forest floor. Birdsong and the rustle of leaves in the breeze provide a melodic backdrop to your journey, adding to the sense of enchantment that surrounds you.

Despite the woods' eerie charm, there's an undeniable feeling of isolation and obscurity as you venture deeper into its depths. The silence here is deafening, save for the occasional chirping of a distant bird or the rustling of unseen critters in the underbrush. Shafts of muted, golden sunlight pierce through the dense foliage, casting elongated shadows on the forest floor.

As you approach the fallen tree blocking the path, you marvel at its sheer size and age. It appears to have been lying here for centuries, with gnarled roots and crumbling bark that hint at the passage of time. The tree's massive branches extend into the undergrowth, creating an imposing and challenging barrier to your progress.

The old lady, still leading the way, jumps lithely over the tree, demonstrating a remarkable agility that seems out of place for her age. Her movements are fluid and graceful, as if the forest itself welcomes her presence.

San stands beside the fallen tree, offering you his hand, his eyes filled with concern and support. You grasp his hand, and he assists you in navigating the obstacle. As you make your attempt to cross, your foot catches on a stubborn root, causing you to lose your balance. Just as you teeter precariously, San's strong arm wraps around your waist, ensuring you don't fall. His touch is comforting, and for a brief moment, you both share a wordless connection as you regain your footing. San's heart lurches in his chest upon making contact with you, and he can't help but smile when he notices the flustered expression on your face.

The old lady observes this interaction from a distance, her knowing eyes filled with a fond amusement, and she motions for you to continue following her deeper into the forest. The journey becomes even more enigmatic and intriguing as you move forward, leaving the fallen tree behind and plunging further into the mystical beauty and mystery of the woods.

Slowly, the sun dips below the horizon making the woods take on an eerie quality. The once vibrant and lush forest now transforms into a mysterious and dark place. The temperature drops, and a shiver runs down your spine. You can't help but feel a little scared and vulnerable in this unfamiliar environment.

San, noticing your discomfort, moves a bit closer to you, not touching but making sure you know he's there for you. His presence brings some comfort, and you lean slightly into him, seeking warmth and assurance. Just as you're starting to relax, a howl echoes through the woods, sending a jolt of fear through your body. You instinctively press your arm against San, finding solace in his nearness.

"Are those wolves?" you ask, your voice quivering.

San, his cheeks slightly flushed, offers a reassuring smile. "It's okay, I'm here," he says with a touch of affection in his tone, making your heart skip a beat.

Still feeling uneasy, you keep your eyes on the darkening forest.

San notices your increasing anxiousness and quickly starts a conversation to distract you, "have you ever been to one of our concerts?" San asks, his curiosity piqued.

You shake your head, the tension slowly easing. "No, actually. I've been so focused on my education and then opening the café that I've barely had time. But now it's just a money problem. I've put all my savings into the café."

San nods, showing genuine interest in your dedication. "You're really dedicated to the café."

A soft smile plays on your lips. "It's been my dream since I was young."

San's curiosity heightens, he wants to know more. "Why is that?"

You take a deep breath, allowing the beauty of the moment to wash over you, the eerie woods, the presence of San beside you, and your shared stories. "Well, when I was a kid, my mother owned a cafe. I used to help her around when I was young, and I always wanted to own the cafe when she retired. I loved the way it brought people together. It's like a place where you can escape from your daily life, enjoy a cup of coffee, and maybe even make a new friend. I wanted to create that for others, a space where people can find comfort and connection.”

Sharing the story of your café and the emotional reason behind your dedication, San's eyes begin to glisten with unshed tears. He listens with intense attention, his heart swelling with empathy and understanding.

"My mother passed away when I was young, and my father couldn't make enough money to support us, so we had to sell the place. Ever since then, I've dreamed of carrying on her legacy."

San's voice is filled with emotion as he responds, "I'm so sorry to hear about your mother. It must have been tough for you." He takes a deep breath, his own experiences coming to the surface. "Being an idol, I don't get to see my parents often, and I really miss them. But I keep going to make them proud. I know how you feel."

Smiling at San, you feel the connection between you deepen, and San finds himself experiencing an overwhelming amount of respect and admiration for your strength and determination. He can't help but feel a powerful emotional response to your story, and his heart jerks in his chest. He's touched by your vulnerability and the way you've persevered in the face of adversity. In this moment, the small but growing feelings he has for you become even more evident.

You and San share a meaningful gaze, both of your eyes shimmering with unshed tears. The warmth of his smile provides a comforting connection between you, and in that moment, you can't help but feel a deep sense of belonging. Unbeknownst to you, the same feelings of belonging, understanding, and connection are mirrored in San's heart, as he finds himself drawn to you more deeply than he could have ever imagined.

“When we get out of here, you are invited to all of our concerts, free of charge.” San exclaims, his wide smile contagious.

“Then I can see Mingi body rolling with my own two eyes.”

“I'm going to feed you to the wolves.”

“We are here.”

The old lady's voice gently breaks your bickering with San, and you shift your gaze towards the source of her words. With a silent nod, she points to a small grotto-like cottage nestled deep within the woods. Covered in vibrant, velvety green moss, it looks like it has been plucked from a Pinterest post. The quaint little dwelling is simultaneously cosy and inviting, yet there is an eerie and somewhat unsettling quality to it that sends shivers down your spine. It seems as if ancient stories and secrets are hidden within its walls, waiting to be uncovered.

The forest that surrounds the cottage adds to the eerie charm. It is a mesmerising place, where the faint light of the setting sun dappled the landscape with warm, golden hues, casting long, enchanting shadows that seemed to dance with every passing breeze. It is beautiful, mysterious, and somewhat foreboding, a fusion of emotions that keeps you on edge.

You can't help but glance over at San, who shares your cautious expression. His eyes meet yours, and his warm smile attempts to soothe your nerves.

Following the old lady's lead, you cautiously approach the charming cottage, hesitating before the small door, which seems to be inviting you inside. The soft glow emanating from the windows adds to the enigmatic ambiance. It is a place that begged exploration, yet also invokes a feeling of hesitancy, as if stepping across the threshold would mean willingly delving into the unknown.

Taking a step closer to the cottage, San reaches out, gently grasping your hand and intertwining your fingers. There are no words exchanged, but his actions speak volumes. His warm touch conveys a silent reassurance, as if he is seeking solace and support just as much as he was offering it. His grip is a mixture of emotions, perhaps fueled by fear or the desire to protect you, and it sends your heart into a flurry of emotions. Your cheeks warm up, and butterflies flit through your stomach as you continue your journey towards the mysterious cottage, hand in hand with San.

Stepping through the small door of the cottage, you and San are greeted by a warm, cosy interior. The walls are adorned with wooden panels, giving the place a rustic, cabin-like feel. The ceiling is supported by wooden beams that add to the overall charm of the room. An inviting fireplace stands against one wall, its embers casting a comforting glow that bathes the space in a soft, flickering light.

In the heart of the room, there is a comfortable, worn-in sofa that beckoned for weary travellers like yourselves. Its deep red cushions invited you to sit down and rest, and you can’t help but admire how perfectly it fits into the rustic décor of the cottage. A wooden coffee table sits in front of the sofa, adorned with trinkets, dried herbs, and a collection of weathered books.

What captures your attention the most, however, is the large, cast-iron cauldron set in the centre of the room. It stands on a sturdy wooden tripod, and it appears to be empty, its black interior gleaming in the firelight. The cauldron is ancient, with ornate patterns etched along its rim, hinting at the history it holds within its iron confines. Taking in the warm and cosy ambiance of the cabin, you can't help but wonder about the mysteries it holds. The combination of old-world charm and the feeling of being in an entirely different realm is both alluring and unsettling. It is as though time has stood still in this hidden refuge, waiting for someone to uncover its secrets.

Taking in the cosy surroundings of the cottage, San's hand remains gently intertwined with yours. The warmth of his hand, combined with the comforting ambiance of the room, help ease the nervousness that has settled within you. The flickering firelight dances across the wooden walls, casting a soothing, amber glow on the two of you.

The old lady bustles around the room with a sense of familiarity, fetching cups and a teapot. Her movements are both methodical and graceful, as if she has been performing these tasks for many years. She has a kind, grandmotherly air about her, and her actions feel like a welcoming embrace.

With a warm smile, she pours the fragrant tea into delicate, porcelain cups, the gentle aroma wafting through the room, filling the air with the comforting scent of herbs and spices. The cups clink softly as she places them on the coffee table in front of the two of you.

You decide to take a seat on the plush, red sofa, and San sits down beside you. Your thighs touching, and the contact between you brought a sense of comfort and security. The cushions embraced you like a familiar friend, and the two of you found yourselves sitting close, as if the physical closeness mirrored the connection that was growing between you.

Sipping on the warm tea, you feel your nerves slowly begin to fade, replaced by a newfound sense of curiosity and wonder.

San and you sit in the cosy cabin, sipping tea and gathering your thoughts, the pressing question of how to return to your own world lingers heavily in the air. You know it is time to seek answers, and you exchange a glance with San before turning your attention to the old lady, a mix of curiosity and frustration in your voices.

"So, how do we get back to our world?" you inquire, your voice filled with a hint of desperation. "And what brought us here in the first place?"

San's voice is more direct as he joins the conversation. "Yeah, we understand we need to find our way out, but why were we brought here in the first place?"

The old lady, who had been bustling around the cabin to fetch cups and a teapot, pauses in her tasks. She takes a moment to consider your questions and then offers a thoughtful response, her voice laced with wisdom. "You were brought here by destiny, not by me. It appears that fate has a plan for both of you."

Your brows furrow with disbelief, and you shoot a sceptical glance at San. This answer hardly provides any solace, and San decides to voice your collective concerns.

"But you gave us those tassels. Weren't they what brought us here? So, it is your fault, and you need to help us get back."

The old lady lets out a weary sigh, understanding the frustration etched on both your faces. Her eyes betray a mix of amusement and sympathy as she speaks, "You are correct; the charms you were given had a role to play. However, they were more like keys, opening the door that destiny had laid before you."

You share another puzzled look with San, trying to grasp the cryptic nature of her explanation. San's patience wears thin, and he leans forward, his eyes locked onto hers. "Okay, so if we were brought here by destiny, how do we go back? What's the way out?"

The old lady leans back in her chair, reflecting on her next words.

“There is the existence of a rare and precious thread that can be woven into a tassel, allowing you to return to your world. It is the sister thread of the charm that brought the two of you here. However, the thread is a rarity, and it can only be made every six months. I know someone who has some, yet they live on the other side of the woods, it’ll take you the whole day for me to get it and return.”

San's frustration becomes more noticeable as he asks, "So, when can we get this thread? Tomorrow?"

The old lady shakes her head gently, a sense of regret in her eyes. "I'm sorry, but I have visitors scheduled for tomorrow. It will be the day after tomorrow before I can fetch the thread for you."

You and San exchange a sigh of frustration, aware that your predicament has become increasingly complicated by the constraints of time.

"What if we get it? We can leave in the early morning and be back in the evening for you to make it." You suggest the plan with a glimmer of hope in your eyes, your voice brimming with determination.

The old lady observes you and San thoughtfully before offering her response, her expression reflecting a mix of curiosity and contemplation. "I suppose that could work. If you get it back to me before dark, I will make it for you."

"What's the catch?" San asks with a hint of scepticism.

The old lady reassures him, "There is no catch."

San's doubt lingers as he continues, "Don't play with me. You're a witch; there's always a catch."

She maintains her composure and responds, "I am not a witch."

Your eyes narrow in disbelief, and you press further, "Girl, you have a cauldron in the middle of your house. Be for real."

Your incredulity mirrors his as you try to make sense of the unusual surroundings and situation.

"You will find out the catch when you return with the thread," she calmly expresses. "This is the risk you have to take. Do you really wish to go home?" Her words are enigmatic, leaving you and San uncertain about what lies ahead on this unexpected journey.

"For now, though," she says, standing up from her chair, "get some rest. I'm sure you are tired from your travels."

You and San walk through the dimly lit corridor to the small room the old lady has prepared for you. It's a cosy, rustic space, with wooden walls and beams overhead, giving it a warm and inviting ambiance. The room is adorned with various knick-knacks, and the window reveals the occasional flicker of fireflies outside, casting fleeting shadows across the room.

Upon entering the room, you both find a comfortable, albeit not very spacious, resting place. There's only one bed, and the realisation causes a simultaneous blush to creep across both your faces. You feel a pang of guilt about the potential awkwardness of the situation, but before you can protest, San insists on taking the floor.

He quickly arranges a blanket he found in a nearby chest and lays it out on the wooden floor, attempting to make a makeshift bed for himself.

"I can't let you sleep on the floor," you object, worried about his comfort.

San chuckles, his eyes reflecting the soft glow of the lanterns outside. "It's fine, really. I'll be comfortable."

You give in, though you still feel a bit uneasy about it. San's considerate nature is touching, but you can't help but wish for a more suitable solution.

After a moment, you ease yourself into the plush bed. The soft mattress seems to envelop you, and you can't help but let out a contented sigh. The bed feels like a luxurious escape after the long, tiring journey you've had. As you lay there, the comfort and warmth of the bed begin to lull you into a state of drowsiness.

San finishes arranging his makeshift bed on the floor beside you and glances over with a warm smile, his gaze a mix of concern and reassurance. As you're beginning to drift into slumber, he whispers softly, "Goodnight," in the dimly lit room.

The only sounds are the gentle crackling of the fireplace and the faint rustling of leaves outside, making you feel cosy and safe as you slowly succumb to sleep, with San's presence nearby providing a sense of comfort.

The sun's warmth bathes the forest in a golden glow as you and San step onto the path marked on the map. The cool, crisp air fills your lungs, invigorating you for the journey ahead. The forest around you is enchanting, with tall trees and vibrant flora that create an ethereal ambiance. Birds sing melodiously, providing a sense of tranquillity despite the challenges that await you.

The path, as the old lady described, is well-worn and meanders through the woods, guiding you further into the heart of the forest. You follow the landmarks indicated on the map: a peculiarly shaped tree, a massive boulder with moss clinging to its sides, and a serene, babbling brook. Each one reassures you that you're on the right track.

As you continue your journey, you come across a part of the forest that is denser and more shadowed than before. The old lady's warnings echo in your mind as you quicken your pace, your grip on the map tightening. You feel a sense of determination to return safely and bring San with you to your world.

The terrain gradually changes, leading you uphill and into a section of the forest where the trees are thicker and their branches intertwine, creating a natural canopy. The hushed whispers of the leaves add to the eerie yet captivating atmosphere.

"The old lady mentioned a hidden grove up ahead," San says, studying the map intently. "She said we need to pass through it with caution."

You nod, sharing a look of understanding. The forest seems to hold its breath as you venture deeper. The sense of isolation is palpable, and you start to feel a growing unease. The cool, serene forest from before now feels more mysterious, almost foreboding.

The passage through the hidden grove is narrow and winding, creating an otherworldly setting. Shafts of sunlight cut through the dense foliage, casting intricate patterns on the forest floor. You can't help but marvel at the beauty around you, even as you keep an eye out for the thread's location.

Moving forward, the path begins to broaden once more, and the map indicates that you are nearing the area where the thread can be found. An excitement fills you both, and you exchange a hopeful glance. The anticipation of success fuels your determination to complete this mission.

The map guides you to a small clearing where, according to the old lady, the thread can be collected. But as you reach the area, you realise that there are multiple threads, each one shimmering in different colours, suspended in the air as if by magic. They sway gently, casting colourful reflections on the ground.

San looks at you with a mix of confusion and curiosity. "Which one do we choose?"

The old lady's advice comes back to you: "The thread must be chosen carefully, as it will determine where you return to."

Your heart pounds as you weigh your options. The forest around you holds its breath, waiting for your decision. The threads await your touch, their ethereal beauty a stark contrast to the perilous journey that brought you here.

Yet the second you reach out for a thread, a woman appears in front of you, halting you from grabbing the threads.

The air becomes charged with tension as the mysterious lady appears, her presence sending shivers down your spine. She stands near the threads, her eyes filled with an otherworldly wisdom.

San instinctively moves closer to you, blocking you from her, and you can feel his apprehension as he interlocks your hands.

“You mustn't take without giving, child. There is a price.”

"What is the price?" San asks, his voice trembling slightly.

The lady's expression remains enigmatic as she speaks, "To claim the thread that calls to your soul, you must offer me your most precious memory. Memories are the threads of your life, woven together to create your identity, and the idea of parting with one is a heavy burden to bear. It is the only way to ensure you are taken to your rightful place. This is the balance of the forest's magic."

The lady's request for a precious memory leaves you both in a state of shock. Your mind races as you consider the magnitude of the request. Your memories are a part of your very essence, each one holding a special place in your heart. You look at San, his eyes mirroring your own feelings of uncertainty.

San squeezes your hand, his voice a whisper, "What do we do? We can't give up our memories."

The lady, her gaze unwavering, adds, "I can see the bond you share, your connection is strong. One memory will be strong enough for the both of you."

You share a wordless, meaningful glance with San.

With a deep breath, you nod in San's direction, your silent gesture conveying your readiness to move forward. San meets your eyes with a deep sense of gratitude, an unspoken acknowledgment of the sacrifice you're both about to make.

The lady extends her hand toward you, and you accept it cautiously, your trust in her growing by the minute.

"Now, think of the memory," she instructs gently.

The room falls into an eerie silence as you stand before the threads, tears still glistening in your eyes. You can feel San's supportive presence beside you, his concern unspoken but palpable.

The lady extends her hand toward you, and you accept it cautiously.

You close your eyes, delving deep into your thoughts to find the memory that holds the most significance. Tears gather at the corners of your eyes as the memory surfaces, the emotions tied to it overwhelming.

You take a moment to collect yourself, focusing on the cherished memory, replaying it in your mind like a vivid film. It's a memory from your childhood, a day at the beach with your mother, building sandcastles and laughing. You remember the feeling of the warm sand beneath your feet, the sound of the waves crashing, and the pure happiness in your mother’s eyes.

San watches you attentively, his concern evident in his gaze. He wants to rush to your side, to comfort you in this vulnerable moment, but he restrains himself.

Opening your eyes, you're greeted by the gentle yet piercing gaze of the lady. Her hand is extended toward the threads, waiting for your choice.

Your heart guides you toward a particular thread, one that stands out in a rich, dark purple shade. It shimmers with an otherworldly luminescence, a vibrant and mysterious aura that beckons to you. You reach for it, your hand trembling slightly as you grasp the thread, and it feels warm to the touch, like a connection to the past and the future.

For some inexplicable reason, your heart guides you to the thread, tugging at your emotions. It feels like the right choice, and you reach out to take it, a profound sense of purpose filling your heart.

With the thread secured in your hand, you turn to face San, a mixture of emotions passing between you. Gratitude, determination, and a hint of sadness are reflected in your eyes.

San smiles softly, offering you a reassuring nod, understanding the importance of the memory you've chosen to give up. He knows you've made this sacrifice willingly for both of your sakes.

You and San begin the journey back through the dense forest, the dimming light of the setting sun casts a warm, orange glow through the trees, a weighty silence hangs in the air. The precious thread safely tucked in your satchel serves as a constant reminder of the memory you've willingly sacrificed. Both of you understand the gravity of the situation.

After a while, San breaks the silence with a gentle voice, "If I can ask, what memory did you give up?"

You take a deep breath, feeling the weight of the memory in your heart. "It was a memory of a day at the beach with my mother, from my childhood. We were building sandcastles and laughing together. It was one of those moments of pure happiness that I never wanted to forget."

San looks at you with a mixture of understanding and sympathy. He realises that it was a cherished memory you held dear, and his respect for your sacrifice deepens.

San speaks again, his expression one of curiosity, " If it were me who had to choose, I wonder what memory I'd give."

You glance at him curiously, your satchel gently bumping against your side as you walk. "Have you thought about it before?"

San nods thoughtfully. "Not specifically, but... I guess a memory from my trainee days, one from the first time I saw our fans at a concert, or maybe our first win. Those moments are really special to me. But, it's a tough choice. I can't imagine giving up any memory willingly."

You both walk on in thoughtful silence, the significance of the thread and your memories weighing heavily on your minds.

"It's peculiar," San says, breaking the silence as he gazes over at you.

"What is?" You ask, your curiosity piqued.

"I wasn't expecting you to pick the purple thread. In my opinion, you strike me as more of a pink person."

A laugh escapes your lips. "I look like a pink person?"

San nods, a playful smile forming on his lips. "Yes, but I guess appearances can be deceiving."

You chuckle at his observation. "I do like pink, to be honest. But something about that purple thread just felt right, like it was calling out to me."

"That's even more interesting," San utters, his eyes sparkling with curiosity.

"How so?"

"Purple is my favourite colour," San confesses, his eyes fixed on the path ahead. You turn to look at him, a hint of confusion on your face.

San gazes at you, a warm and affectionate expression in his eyes. "Maybe it is destiny that we found each other."

Flustered by San's words, a warm sensation spreads across your cheeks as you quickly hide your face behind your hand. Your heart flutters at the affection in his gaze, and you can't help but sneak a few more glances at him, stealing moments to admire his comforting presence. His eyes, filled with fondness, occasionally meet yours, and a faint, mischievous smile dances at the corners of his lips. San bites his lip, suppressing a grin as he watches you.

The journey back to the old lady's cottage takes you through the dappled forest as the sun begins its slow descent. You and San, side by side, share unspoken words of comfort. San's unwavering presence helps you navigate the intricate path that weaves through the woods, while the echoes of rustling leaves and bird songs in the distance create a serene ambiance.

Arriving at the cosy cottage, you find the old lady tidying up her small abode. She turns to the two of you with a knowing glance, causing your heart to race. An exchange of puzzled glances with San only deepens the sense of mystery.

Hastily, you present her with the valuable thread you secured. She accepts it, murmuring the word "peculiar."

You and San exchange yet another look, curiosity gnawing at your minds. Despite your burning questions, you both decide not to press her further at this moment.

With the thread in her possession, you turn to the old lady once more, your curiosity now focused on the catch you've been wondering about.

“What is the catch?” You question, desperate to know what it is that could be at risk.

“I need time to thread the tassel, then I will tell you the risk. For now, please eat.”

“How long will it take?” San inquires, also desperate to get home.

“An hour or so, it won't be long. Help yourself to food, it is still warm.”

Sitting at the old lady's humble wooden table, you and San eagerly devour the food set before you. It's a simple meal, but after the day's adventures, it tastes like a feast. You're both so engrossed in eating that your earlier question about the odd word "peculiar" remains on hold.

Taking another bite of the hearty stew, San leans in, a mischievous glint in his eye. "So, since we have some time to kill," he begins, "which performance is your absolute favourite?"

You swallow your food, a burst of excitement rushing through you as you recall the various stunning performances you've seen, yet you can't help but to laugh. San’s dedication to find out your favourite parts about his group is endearing as well as funny.

"Well, there are so many, but if I had to choose, I’d probably say Take Me Home."

San grins widely, his eyes lighting up. "Really?." He leans closer, like an excited child, "is it because of my dance solo?"

You laugh at his words and finish another bite and ponder for a moment. "It is really cool. The way you used the mirrors is really cool to me also."

“Thank you for supporting us,” San says quietly, his smile gentle as he looks down at his food.

“Now San.” you say loudly, catching his attention. Pointing your spoon at him, you return the question, “what is your favourite performance to do?”

The two of you continue to chat and savour your meal, the tension lifting up the more you get engrossed in each other's company. Sharing your favourite Ateez moments and music creates a sense of connection which makes the wait for the old lady to finish the tassel more bearable.

You and San sit at the old lady's table, your empty bowls pushed aside, you're engaged in an animated conversation. The room is filled with laughter and shared stories, a comfortable warmth filling the air. You've found that you share many common interests and hobbies beyond just K-pop and Ateez, forging a deeper connection as you discuss your favourite books, movies, and travel destinations. It feels like you've known each other for ages.

The moments pass quickly as you both become lost in the flow of conversation, sharing tales of your personal experiences and dreams. Your voices resonate with passion and excitement as you talk about your aspirations, and you can't help but admire the way San's eyes light up when he talks about his music and performances.

Suddenly, the room's door creaks open, and the old lady enters, holding the completed tassel in her hand. The stunning charm catches your breath in your throat, a masterpiece of intricate weaving and vibrant colours. The thread glistens in the soft light of the room, and it looks as if it carries the power to transport you back to your world. Its craftsmanship and beauty are beyond anything you've ever seen before.

San and you both fall silent as you gaze in awe at the tassel, momentarily speechless. The old lady smiles as she approaches the table, placing the tassel gently in the centre. "Here it is, the thread charm that will take you home," she says, her eyes gleaming with satisfaction.

You and San exchange a look, both of you sharing a sense of wonder and gratitude for this woman who has helped you.

Suddenly, San's voice pierces the room, grabbing your attention. "Where is the other?" he inquires, his tone filled with urgency.

You and San exchange anxious glances, sensing that something is amiss. The old lady takes a deep, sorrowful breath, her expression growing more serious. "That is the catch," she confesses, her voice heavy with regret. "Only one of you may return home."

San's anger flares, his face flushing with frustration as he runs his trembling hands through his dishevelled hair. You take a step back, your heart sinking with disbelief, and a wave of despair washes over you.

The old lady calmly elaborates, "There is only enough thread to create one tassel. I can retrieve the thread again in six months when it becomes available. But for now, a difficult decision must be made—one must return home, while the other must stay."

The weight of the revelation hangs heavily in the air, the room filled with tension as you and San grapple with the realisation that a choice must be made.

“I will leave it here,” she utters, carefully placing the tassel on the wooden table, “you must sleep with it beneath your pillow, then when you fall asleep, you shall awake in your world.”

The old lady gazes at the two of you, and for the first time in her long life, a pang of guilt washes over her. Letting out a deep sigh, she retreats to the room she emerged from, her expression marked by the gravity of the situation.

You watch as the old lady retreats to the other room, you find a chair near the table and take a seat, deep in thought. San, on the other hand, begins to pace around the room, his frustration evident in his movements. He repeatedly runs his hands through his hair, his expression conflicted and troubled.

After several minutes of silence, you both turn to face each other simultaneously. In unison, you utter the same words, "You take it."

"No, you take it!" You exclaim firmly, determination shining in your eyes.

San responds, equally resolute, "You saved my life, you take it!"

"I saved your life so you can go home," you counter, your voice unwavering.

San's gaze softens as he insists, "You've been here for months, you take it. I want you to go home."

You shake your head, a hint of sadness in your eyes. "You have an important life ahead of you, San. Go home, and I'll meet you there in six months."

San mutters your name, his heart heavy, “you have to run the cafe, you can't wait six months.”

“San. This is what my mother would have wanted… there are more people who need you than people who need me.”

“What if I need you?” San exclaims, tears coming to his eyes.

“San…”

“I can’t leave you here.”

"San," you say firmly, standing up. You grab the tassel and then take his hand, gently pulling him towards the sofa. He follows, looking into your eyes, silently pleading.

Gently, you place the tassel in his hand and he looks up at you, tears threatening to fall as he looks at your face.

Taking a deep breath, you begin speaking, your voice gentle and filled with emotion, "San, I know you want me to go home, but you need to understand something. Your world needs you. Your family, your friends, and your fans all rely on you. You have dreams to fulfil, music to create, and a life to live. You have a purpose, and it's vital to so many people."

You reach out and place your hand on his, holding it with a reassuring grip. "I've learned so much from you during our time here, and I'm grateful for every moment. But I can't take away your chance to return to your world, to be with your loved ones. I'll wait for my turn, and when the time comes, I'll make it home."

San's eyes glisten with unshed tears as he absorbs your words. You continue, your voice steady, "We'll see each other again in six months, and by then, we'll both be where we're meant to be. I believe in you, San. It's time for you to go back and fulfil your destiny."

San listens intently, his eyes fixed on yours as your voice conveys your deep concern and affection.

“I just…” he begins, his voice cracking, yet you stop him.

“It’s okay. Let's go to bed.”

Starting to make your way toward the bedroom, the knowledge that San will disappear by morning brings tears to your eyes. The weight of impending separation presses on your chest, and it's hard to hold back the emotions welling up within you.

Before you can enter the room, San's strong yet gentle hand reaches out, grabbing your wrist with a firm but tender grip. He pulls you toward him, and suddenly, you find yourself enveloped in his arms. The world around you seems to fade into the background as the two of you share a moment.

The hug is a powerful mixture of emotions. San's heart beats rapidly against your chest, its rhythm a reflection of the anxiety and sorrow he feels about the upcoming separation. His tears, warm and wet, seep into the fabric of your clothing as he buries his face in your shoulder, seeking comfort and solace in your presence.

The comforting warmth of his body contrasts sharply with the chill in the room, creating an immediate sense of intimacy and solace. It's as if his body heat radiates into your very soul, offering a shelter from the storm of emotions raging inside both of you.

The subtle scent of him mingles with the earthy, forest fragrance that has clung to your clothes from your time in this peculiar place. It's a blend of familiar and foreign, marking this moment as uniquely special.

You can feel the rise and fall of his chest as he takes shaky breaths, his body trembling slightly with the weight of the impending parting. Each inhale and exhale shows the unspoken emotions that surge between you.

In this shared embrace, the world beyond the two of you fades away. Tears are a silent language, and your tears mix with his. This hug carries the bittersweet weight of the parting, a physical manifestation of the depth of your connection, the pain of separation, and the fervent hope of reuniting in the future. It seems almost insane to you the fact that you met less than three days ago. The person in front of you feels like a person you have known your entire life.

"I'm sorry," San mumbles into your neck, his words laced with regret, his warm breath causing shivers to run down your spine.

Your hand instinctively moves up to pat his head, fingers tangling softly in his hair as you try to provide some comfort. "It's okay, Sannie," you murmur, your voice gentle and reassuring.

With a mixture of emotions, you watch as San takes the bed in the spare room and places the tassel under the pillow. He glances back at you, standing in the door frame, and you offer him a warm smile, your eyes filled with understanding.

"I know what you're thinking," you say gently, a knowing look in your eyes, “I’m not sleeping tonight, don’t think about moving it.” San furrows his eyebrows in confusion, silently wondering how you've seen through him so clearly.

Without hesitation, San stands up and turns to face you, his eyes locked onto yours with intensity. It's clear that he has something important on his mind. His hands move gently to cup your face, his warm touch both comforting and electrifying. He wipes away the tears that have begun to fall from your eyes, a tender expression on his face as he looks deep into your soul.

In a slow, smooth movement, San rests his forehead against yours. You feel your eyes naturally close, giving in to the moment as the world around you seems to disappear.

“I promise to find you.” San whispers with his eyes closed and his promise lingers in the air, playing with your heart strings.

The two of you stay in this intimate position for a while, the only thing that exists being the warmth you share and the unspoken connection between you.

It's almost surreal to you that you've found yourself in this situation, not just with anyone, but with Choi San himself. The circumstances that led to this moment were beyond imagination, and yet, there's a profound sense of gratitude in your heart that it was him who ended up here with you. The closeness you feel in this moment is something you never expected to experience in your life, and it's a bittersweet reminder of the depth of your connection, the vagaries of fate, and the promise of a future reunion.

With a heavy heart, you bid San a quiet goodnight as you leave his room, pulling the door closed gently behind you. It's a slow, painful process, knowing that this may be the last time you'll see him for a while. You turn away from the door and walk down the dimly lit hallway, the weight of the situation bearing down on you.

Reaching a secluded corner of the hallway, you can no longer hold back the emotions that have been building up. Collapsing to the floor, you succumb to the overwhelming grief that has been gnawing at you. Silent sobs wrack your body, and you clutch your chest, trying to muffle the sounds of your heartache. You bite into the flesh of your hand to stifle the cries that threaten to escape, tears streaming down your face.

Each tear that falls feels like another piece of your heart breaking, and you struggle to come to terms with the harsh reality of having to stay here for longer when all you yearn for is to be home. It's a pain that cuts deep, one that only time can heal. But for now, all you can do is let the tears flow, allowing the raw and unfiltered emotions to have their moment.

Whilst you cry, the exhaustion from the day's events and emotional turmoil begins to take its toll on your body. The sobs gradually subside, replaced by a deep sense of weariness. Your eyelids become heavy, and your limbs feel like lead.

In the dimly lit hallway, you find yourself unable to hold back the fatigue any longer. Your body craves rest and respite from the emotional rollercoaster that has consumed your day.

You slump down against the cold, hard floor, your back resting against the wall. Tears still glisten on your cheeks as you close your eyes. With each ragged breath, your eyelids grow heavier, and a sense of drowsiness envelops you.

The world outside the hallway begins to blur, and the soft hum of the forest fades into the background. In your state of emotional exhaustion, you drift into a fitful slumber, the hallway serving as a makeshift bed. The tears have left their mark on your face, but your body is finally granted a moment of respite.

The night had been an unending cycle of sorrow and confusion, leaving you emotionally drained.

The first rays of dawn filter through the window, causing you to stir from your slumber on the hard hallway floor. Your memories rush back with brutal clarity, a sense of urgency and panic gripping your heart.

With trembling legs, you push yourself to your feet, the weariness still clinging to you. The echoes of the hug, the warmth of his presence, and the desperation to see him again fueled your determination.

Stumbling, you made your way to the room where San had rested. Each step feels like a lifetime, the anticipation of what you might discover palpable in your racing heart. You yearned to see him, but also hope that he has returned home.

The door creaks open and your heart sinks at the sight that greets you. The room is in disarray, pillows strewn, and sheets rumpled, signs that someone had indeed slept there. But it was devoid of San, leaving an aching void where his presence once dwelled.

Tears welled up, blurring your vision as you came to terms with the empty room.

To your left, you hear footsteps approaching, and you turn to find the old lady, her eyes downcast and guilt etches across her features. She knew, and the dread that had been building inside you only deepened.

With a quavering voice, you asked, "Where is he? Where's San?"

The old lady sighed heavily, her eyes meeting yours, bearing the weight of a heavy truth. The anticipation of her response filled the air like a thunderstorm on the horizon.

“He made it back safely.”

You turn back to the room, feeling relieved and torn at the same time.

“I will help you,” the old lady says gently, “I have never felt like this before, but your connection stirred something deep in me.”

“What do you mean?”

“There's a horse outside for you, it'll take you directly to your palace. Go there and in six months I will bring you the tassel. I give you my word.”

“Thank you,” is all you manage to say, your thoughts too occupied with San.

What if he is in the wrong world? What if he is stuck in limbo? What if he doesn't remember anything from this world?

Will you ever see each other again…?

—

San gradually becomes aware of his surroundings, a thick fog of grogginess enveloping his senses. The faint, continuous beep of a machine and hushed murmurs echo in the background. As his eyes open, the harsh hospital lighting makes him squint. The sterile, clinical setting becomes apparent, with white walls and the metallic gleam of medical equipment creating an otherworldly atmosphere.

His vision adjusts, revealing a monitor to his right, its rhythmic beeping punctuating the sterile air. An intravenous line is connected to his arm, administering an unknown liquid into his veins. The scent of antiseptic hangs in the air, intensifying the disconcerting feeling of being in an unfamiliar place.

His head pounds with a relentless ache, and confusion clouds his thoughts. Why is he here? What happened to lead him to this hospital bed? The hunger in his stomach intensifies, adding to the growing sense of disorientation.

In an attempt to make sense of the situation, he pushes himself to sit up. The movement catches the attention of someone in the room—a figure in the corner. The familiar voice of his manager pierces through the ambient sounds, a mix of concern and relief evident.

"San, are you okay?"

San rubs his temples, trying to clear the fog in his mind. The events leading to this hospital room elude him, and he struggles to piece together the fragments of memory. Disoriented and perplexed, he turns to his manager, a multitude of questions forming on his lips.

“What happened?” His voice is hoarse as he speaks, and he can feel from his breath that he hasn't brushed his teeth in a day or two.

“You don't remember?” his manager inquires, worried about San’s wellbeing, he continues upon seeing San’s nod, “you were in practice and suddenly fainted, you've been asleep for almost three days. We thought you were in a coma.”

The second his manager recounts the details of being in a coma, San's mind races, trying to make sense of the fragmented memories flooding back. Flashes of the alternate world, the old lady, and most prominently, you, fill his consciousness. The vivid experiences he shared with you seem surreal, yet the emotions are still fresh, and an urgent restlessness takes hold of him. If he was in a coma for three days, you would be in a coma for almost three months.

Ignoring his manager's pleas for rest, San becomes increasingly agitated. The desire to find you, to confirm the reality of the shared adventure, fuels his determination. He can't stay confined; he needs to know if it was all real or just a vivid dream.

With a burst of energy, San attempts to swing his legs off the side of the bed, dislodging the wires and monitors attached to him. His manager rushes to restrain him, urging him to stay put and recover, but San's sense of urgency overrides any rational thinking.

"No, I need to find them!" San exclaims, desperation in his voice as he struggles against his manager's firm grip.

Ignoring the protests, San manages to free himself from the medical paraphernalia. Disentangling from the monitors and IV lines, he bolts out of the room, driven by an unrelenting determination to find you. His legs are wobbling as he walks, but he manages to regain his composure as he walks quickly around the corridors.

The hospital stretches out before him, a maze of unfamiliar hallways and doors. Panic sets in as he realises he has no idea where he is or where to begin. The sterile environment amplifies his disorientation, and every passing moment without a clue about your whereabouts intensifies his anxiety.

Frantically, he searches for a reception area, hoping for guidance. The urgency of the situation pushes him forward, and despite the lingering weakness, San charges through the hospital corridors, driven by an unshakable determination to find you, no matter the cost.

In a frenzy, San navigates through the hospital corridors until he finally stumbles upon the reception area. The receptionist, a weary woman surrounded by stacks of paperwork, looks up with a half-hearted smile as San approaches, still clad in his hospital gown.

"Excuse me," San gasps, breathless from both the urgency of his quest and his hurried journey through the hospital. "I need to know if someone is here.”

Slowly, the receptionist's eyes narrow, “what is their name?”

San replies with your name and the receptionist furrows her brow, perplexed by the urgency in San's eyes.

"I'm sorry, but I can't disclose information about patients without proper authorization," she explains, adhering to hospital protocol.

Desperation flickers across San's face as he pleads, "Please, it's important. I need to know if she's here. Is there anyone with that name in a coma for almost three months?"

The receptionist hesitates, studying San for a moment. "How do you know this person?" she inquires, her curiosity piqued.

San, quick on his feet, replies with urgency, "They are a really close friend. We lost touch, and I just found out about their condition. Please, I need to know if they are okay."

The receptionist sighs, her empathetic instincts prevailing over protocol. She lowers her voice and says, "Wait here."

San anxiously watches as the receptionist scans through her files. The seconds feel like an eternity, and his heart pounds with anticipation. Finally, her eyes light up, and she raises her eyebrows, a glimmer of surprise crossing her features.

"Yes, there is someone by that name…” she reveals. "Room 302. But you need to understand, only family members are usually allowed in."

San's gratitude is immense as he thanks the receptionist before darting off toward Room 302, his pace almost a sprint. The journey through the sterile hospital environment seems to stretch endlessly, but San's determination propels him forward. Room 302 holds the promise of answers, and he's willing to face whatever awaits behind that door.

San stands outside Room 302, his chest rising and falling rapidly as he catches his breath. The weight of the unknown presses on him, and he takes a moment to steel himself before gently pushing open the door.

The door swings open and a hush falls over the room. San's eyes widen as he takes in the sight before him.

There you are, lying in the hospital bed, surrounded by machines and wires. Your hair, longer than he remembers, cascades gently over the pillow, is a sign of the time you've spent in a seemingly endless slumber.

San's heart clenches at the sight of the wires connected to you, a lifeline that has kept you tethered to this world. The room, bathed in the soft glow of monitors, feels both sterile and charged with an emotional intensity that hangs in the air.

Approaching the bed, San's gaze lingers on your peaceful face, now adorned with the marks of time passed. Tears cascade down your closed eyes, and San's heart aches for the pain you have endured in your unconscious state. It's a heartbreaking revelation, but at the same time, there's a profound beauty in the connection they share, transcending the boundaries of worlds.

With a shaky deep breath, San takes a seat in the chair beside your bed. The chair creaks softly under his weight as he reaches out, his trembling fingers gently interlocking with yours. He can feel the warmth of your hand, a tangible connection that defies the barriers of the physical and the metaphysical.

"Hey," San whispers, his voice breaking with emotion. "It's me. I made it back safely." He pauses, swallowing the lump in his throat. "Thank you so much for everything."

San's words hang in the air, a heartfelt acknowledgment of the intertwined fate that brought them together across dimensions. The room, filled with the rhythmic beeping of machines and the soft hum of the hospital, bears witness to a moment that transcends the ordinary—a reunion between two souls bound by an extraordinary connection.

—

“What's with this marker on your calendar?” Wooyoung questions as he walks into San’s room.

San turns away from his desk to see what Wooyoung is pointing at. The mark, indicating six months from the time he awoke, brings a gentle smile to San's face. "Just something important," he replies before redirecting his attention back to the game on his desk.

“Okay… are you okay?” Wooyoung questions, taking a seat on San’s bed.

“Yeah, why?” San responds.

“You've been acting weird ever since you woke up from that coma.”

San turns around again, furrowing his brow. “What do you mean?”

“I don't know, you've been all bittersweet, acting as if you’re going through a breakup. And all these trips to the hospital?”

San scoffs at the analysis before resuming his game. The characters on the screen move around, engaging in virtual battles.

“I’m serious,” Wooyoung insists, “you've been weird.”

“Whatever you say.”

Wooyoung shakes his head, a light chuckle escaping him. “We leave in ten minutes, finish your game quickly.”

—

The dance studio is filled with the rhythmic beat of the music, echoing off the mirrored walls. A palpable energy buzzes in the air as the members practise their choreography for the upcoming comeback. San, adorned in his dance attire, moves with precision and passion, putting his heart into every step.

The past three months have been a whirlwind for the group, with preparations for the comeback taking centre stage. The demanding schedule has left little time for personal matters, and for San, that means infrequent visits to the hospital. The initial relief he felt upon waking up from his own coma has been replaced with the stress of managing a packed agenda.

During those initial two weeks, he diligently visited you every day. Flowers, particularly pink ones, became a weekly tradition, a small gesture to brighten the sterile environment of the hospital room. However, as the comeback drew nearer, the relentless cycle of recordings, dance practices, and promotional activities consumed his time.

Today, the dance practice is particularly gruelling. San can't help but feel a pang of guilt, knowing that it has been weeks since his last visit to you. He worries about how you might perceive his absence, fearing that you'll wake up and think he didn't wait for you, or worse, that you'll wake up and be gone.

Whilst the music plays and the members execute each move with precision, San's mind is a whirlwind of conflicting emotions. Every leap, every spin, is a dance of dedication to the group and a silent plea for understanding from you. He longs for the moment when he can return to your side, bringing not only flowers but the warmth of his presence and the assurance that he hasn't forgotten the promise he made.

The dance studio pulses with energy as ATEEZ members tirelessly rehearse their choreography for the upcoming comeback. The atmosphere, however, is tense, and a sense of impatience permeates the room as San repeatedly messes up his steps.

For the fourth time, San's foot collides with Mingi's, disrupting the flow of the routine. Frustration bubbles within the group.

Hongjoong's voice cuts through the air, demanding attention. "San, what has gotten into you? Pay attention." His leader's authority echoes, making it clear that patience is wearing thin.

San mumbles a quick apology, his eyes cast downward. Yet, as the group restarts, it's evident that his mind is elsewhere. Another misstep follows, and a collective groan emanates from the group.

Seongwha, although fatigued and annoyed, can't help but express concern for his younger friend. "What's going on? Your mind is somewhere else."

Hongjoong's stern tone is layered with genuine worry as he addresses San. "You've been all over the place since you fainted. It's been more than six months; you need to straighten up." The leader's frustration is palpable, but there's an underlying tone of care. The members, despite their annoyance, share a collective sentiment of concern for San's well-being.

“It hasn’t been six months,” San grumbles under his breath, also frustrated at himself. San of all people would know if it has been six months.

"It has," Wooyoung exclaims, eyebrows furrowing as he gazes at San. "I thought you'd know, it's on your calendar."

San's eyes narrow in disbelief as he retrieves his phone from his pocket, turning it on to check the date. Widening, his eyes register the reality that it has been exactly six months and four days since he emerged from his coma.

"Fuck," San exclaims, shoving his phone back into his pocket. Running his hand through his hair, he's consumed by a sudden rush of guilt. How could he lose track of time? You must have already been awake for more than three days by now.

"I need to go," San mutters under his breath.

"What did you say?" Yunho questions, not catching his soft mutter.

"I need to go. Now," San asserts, this time with more volume. He rushes to his coat and bag, desperately shoving his belongings into it. Meanwhile, his groupmates stare at him with a mix of disbelief and confusion.

"San, what are you doing?" Yeosang inquires, walking up to the man frantically preparing to leave.

"I need to go somewhere."

"San, you can't just leave; we have to practice," Jongho attempts to reason, but his words seem to bounce right off San.

"Choi San," Hongjoong's voice booms through the studio, causing San to momentarily halt his actions. Turning around, San faces Hongjoong, who wears a deeply furrowed brow, an angry expression etched into his features.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” Hongjoong's voice drips with exasperation as he takes in the dishevelled appearance of the younger male.

“I'm sorry. Really sorry. But there’s something I need to do, and if I don’t, I feel like I’m going to hate myself for the rest of my life,” San exclaims, his voice hoarse, tears welling up in his eyes.

Hongjoong's gaze softens upon seeing San’s vulnerable state. The six others standing around him try to make sense of the situation, but the dots just don’t add up.

“San,”

“I’m sorry, really, I’m so sorry.”

“San,” Hongjoong booms, though not unkindly, his voice carrying a sense of understanding.

“How long will it take?”

“Just today, then I will put all my time and all my effort into this comeback. Just like I always do. I just need today.”

All around him, his friends are confused yet feel their hearts weigh heavily as they witness the desperate state San is in. Never have they seen him like this before, and it feels strange for San to be in such a state.

“Go. But be back tomorrow,” Hongjoong says gently.

“Thank you. Thank you so much. I promise to make it up to you. All of you,” San says before bolting out of the room, headed straight for the hospital. He just hopes that he can make it there before visiting times end.

Hongjoong isn’t sure why he allowed San to go, knowing how tight time is right now due to the comeback being in a few weeks. Something in San’s eyes spoke to him, as if destiny were compelling him to go.

San dashes through the bustling streets, weaving through the crowd like a determined arrow cutting through the air. His long strides cover the familiar path to the hospital, the urgency in his heart making the surroundings blur. The city hums with life, but for San, everything else fades into the background.

As he moves, apologies spill from his lips like rapid-fire as he bumps into people on the way. He can't afford to slow down, can't spare a moment for anything but reaching his destination. The KQ building looms behind him, a distant memory as he sprints toward the hospital.

Breath heaving, he bursts through the hospital entrance with a singular purpose. The reception area blurs by as he skips any formality, not bothering to check in. His entire focus is on reaching your room, his heart pounding in sync with the rhythm of his hurried steps.

The sterile, white hallways echo with the familiar sounds of a hospital; the soft footsteps of medical professionals, the distant chatter of visitors, and the rhythmic beeping of machines. San barrels forward, expertly navigating the maze-like corridors, fueled by a mix of anxiety and determination.

Arriving at the elevator, he jabs at the button for your floor, impatience etched across his face. The doors slide open, and he steps in, the confined space providing a brief respite. Taking a moment to catch his breath, he gazes at the floor numbers lighting up as he ascends.

The elevator doors part once more, revealing the hallway that leads to your room. San's pulse quickens as he sprints toward the familiar door. His mind races with worry, uncertainty clouding his thoughts. What will he find when he enters? The anticipation builds with every step, and as he reaches your room, he takes a deep breath, bracing himself for whatever awaits on the other side.

San gingerly turns the doorknob, a mixture of hope and dread swelling within him. The door creaks open, revealing the room where you should be resting. His eyes scan the space, desperately seeking any sign of your presence.

Stepping inside, the reality of the situation crashes over him. Your bed is there, neatly made, but the first thing he notices is the fact that it is empty.

Panic rises in San's chest, and he rushes to your bedside. The room is silent, save for the hum of medical equipment, amplifying the void left by your absence.

San's breath catches in his throat as he clings to the remnants of hope. He gazes around the room, half-expecting you to materialise before him. The silence in the air is deafening, a stark contrast to the lively conversations he had envisioned sharing with you once you woke.

His eyes fall on the wilted pink tulips, a cruel reminder of the hopeful gestures he made in anticipation of your awakening. The vibrant hues have dulled, mirroring the fading optimism in San's heart. San's mind swirls with a whirlwind of thoughts. Guilt creeps in, taunting him with the possibility that he failed you somehow.

He replays every missed opportunity, each day he prioritised work over being by your side. The weight of his choices bears down on him, and a profound sadness envelopes him. Doubt consumes him, questioning if he's truly deserving of happiness or if he's destined to be haunted by regret.

Desperation tightens its grip on San as he moves to the window, hoping for a glimpse of you in the hospital courtyard or perhaps walking down the hallway.

The pink tulips in his hands serve as an emblem of his optimism, now crushed beneath the weight of reality. He recalls the anticipation that accompanied each visit, the flowers symbolising his unwavering belief in your eventual awakening. Now, their wilting petals tell a different story, echoing the fading flame of hope in his heart.

San clutches the tulips tighter, a silent plea for forgiveness to a presence that's no longer there. The room seems colder now, devoid of the warmth he associated with your presence.

The sounds of the hospital, distant footsteps and hushed conversations, serve as an eerie backdrop to San's internal monologue. Doubt creeps in, questioning if he's truly deserving of happiness or if he's fated to be haunted by the spectre of regret.

San's fingers trace patterns on the wilted tulips, his thoughts spiralling into a vortex of introspection. He replays every missed opportunity, each instance where he chose to chase fleeting success over cherishing the moments with you. The room feels smaller, closing in on him as the burden of his choices becomes increasingly unbearable.

Shoulders slumped, San sinks to the floor, still clinging to the flowers. The weight of his heartache is unbearable, each beat echoing a symphony of sorrow. In the quiet room, time becomes elastic, stretching and contracting as he grapples with the reality that he might have lost you forever.

The shadows lengthen as San remains on the floor, lost in the labyrinth of his thoughts. The hospital room, once a space of anticipation and hope, is now a shrine to what could have been. In the hushed stillness, he wishes he could turn back time, rewrite the script that led to this heart-wrenching moment.

“San?”

San's world comes to a screeching halt, the single utterance of his name from behind him slices through the heavy silence like a lifeline. For a fleeting moment, he remains frozen, caught between the realms of disbelief and desperate hope. The air hangs thick with anticipation as he dares not turn around, fearing that acknowledging the voice will only amplify the crushing weight of his recent realisation.

A gentle touch graces his shoulder, a tender reassurance that pierces through the numbness that has settled over him. It's a touch so delicate, yet laden with a gravity that sends shivers down his spine. Still reluctant to face the truth, he keeps his gaze fixed on the emptiness before him, afraid to let hope blossom only to be crushed again.

When he finally musters the courage to turn around, the world tilts on its axis. There you stand, a vision of ethereal beauty in your hospital gown, tears mirroring his own streaming down your face. In that moment, the lines between reality and dreams blur, and San feels as if he's been transported to a realm where miracles are not only possible but tangible.

Time seems to suspend as San takes in the sight of you; the person he thought he had lost. Every detail becomes etched into his memory; the vulnerability in your eyes, the traces of weariness on your face, and the overwhelming emotion that courses through the room. It's a tableau of raw, unfiltered emotion that threatens to overwhelm both of you.

A choked sob escapes San's lips as he surges forward, a mixture of disbelief and euphoria propelling himself towards you and into a bone crushing embrace. The world narrows down to the two of you, a cosmic collision of souls who refuse to be separated. The hospital room transforms into a sanctuary where the boundaries of time and space blur, leaving only the profound connection shared between you and San.

Your tears mingle with his, forming a symphony of emotions that speaks more eloquently than words ever could. In that embrace, San feels a weight lifted off his shoulders, a burden he carried for what felt like an eternity. It's a cathartic release, a culmination of months of longing and despair now metamorphosing into a resurgence of joy.

Whilst you hold each other, the room becomes a vessel for shared emotions, an intimate space where the echoes of heartache dissipate, replaced by the melodies of reunion. San pulls away from the embrace to cradle your face in his large hands as he presses his forehead against yours, a silent promise to savour this moment, to etch it into the very fabric of his being. Your body stays pressed against his, the closeness you have been missing and dreaming of since the moment he left

For San, it's not just a reunion; it's a reawakening. The tears that had threatened to drown him now become droplets of newfound happiness. The gravity of your presence grounds him, dispelling the shadows that had cast their spell over his soul.

In the space of the hospital room, San and you find solace in the simple truth that you are together once more. Tears continue to fall, now a harmonious blend of joy and relief.

Amid the quiet murmur of the hospital room, San's eyes flicker with a mix of surprise and profound emotion as he processes your revelation. The weight of his longing, the months spent in anticipation and despair, culminate in a single question that escapes his lips, laden with an earnestness that echoes through the room.

"You... woke up today?" he asks, his voice tinged with disbelief yet brimming with uncontainable joy. As you nod in confirmation, a wave of realisation washes over him, and he takes a moment to absorb the enormity of the moment.

“You remembered?” You mutter softly, the words barely reaching San’s ears.

"I would've waited forever for you," he confesses, his eyes locked onto yours, sincerity echoing in every word. The depth of his commitment, the unwavering dedication to your well-being, resonates in the air, and you find yourself enveloped in the warmth of his unwavering devotion.

You proceed to share the intricacies of your journey; the delayed arrival of the old lady, the challenges she faced on her way to you, and the serendipity that brought you back to consciousness today. The room transforms into a cocoon of shared stories, weaving a tapestry of experiences that led to this miraculous reunion.

A playful smile tugs at San's lips as he contemplates the unfolding narrative. "Today," he muses, "feels like a chapter from a book written by destiny."

The atmosphere takes a lighthearted turn as he shifts gears, eyes alight with mischievous curiosity. "So," he starts, "now that you're back and I've got you here, how about we celebrate this occasion with a date?"

Your heart skips a beat at the proposition, and a smile graces your lips. "A date?" you echo, genuine surprise reflected in your eyes.

San nods, his expression earnest. "Yes, a date. You saved my life; the least I can do is take you out and make it up to you."

A playful glint dances in your eyes as you ponder his proposal. "Well," you tease, "if you get me Mingi's autograph, we might just have a deal."

San feigns exasperation, mockingly clutching his heart. "I hate you," he declares with a theatrical sigh.

A laugh escapes your lips, and you playfully retort, "No, you don't."

The laughter continues, and the room becomes a sanctuary of shared laughter and affection. The weight of the past months fades into the background, replaced by the promise of new beginnings and the joy of being together once more. In this intimate exchange, the echoes of a love that transcended time resonate, casting aside the shadows that had lingered for far too long.

The air becomes charged with anticipation as San looks into your eyes, a gentle smile playing on his lips. "Can I kiss you?" he asks, his voice a soft murmur that sends a shiver down your spine.

A warm feeling of affirmation fills your chest, and you respond with a smile, "I’ve only waited sox months." The atmosphere is tinged with a mixture of excitement and a sense of inevitability, as if this moment had been woven into the fabric of destiny.

San leans in, his eyes fluttering closed as he gently presses his lips against yours. It's a sweet, tender kiss that feels like the universe aligning, a culmination of shared experiences, laughter, and the trials you faced together. The world seems to fade away, leaving only the two of you in this perfect moment.

There's a soft, playful energy to the kiss, like a dance between your lips, a silent celebration of the connection that brought you back together. San's hand finds its way to yours, fingers intertwining as if to anchor this moment in time.

The kiss lingers and it's not just a meeting of lips; it's a merging of hearts and souls. When you finally part, there's a shared look that speaks volumes, an unspoken understanding that this connection goes beyond the magical threads that brought you here. It's a kiss that feels like destiny, a promise of more shared moments, and a celebration of a love that transcends the mystical realms you've traversed together.

Perhaps it was destiny after all.

#San #san ateez #ateez #ateez x reader #choi san #san fluff #ateez fanfic #ateez fluff #ateez reactions #ateez au #ateez imagines #ateez fic #ateez scenarios #ateez san

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lemonwrap · 4 months

Text

Imagine: werewolf Ghost turning Soap to save his life.

The mission to find Makarov goes to shit. Ghost isn’t there in time to prevent Soap from being shot. He is there in time to see Makarov fire a bullet straight through Soap’s skull, to see his beloved sergeant crumple to the ground like a sack of bricks.

He’s over to Soap’s side in a flash, clutching him close and calling his name frantically as the blood pours out. Soap is quickly dying, and there’s nothing he can do.

No, there’s one thing.

He shifts faster than he ever has in his life, in less than thirty seconds. A werewolf’s bite does nothing unless they’re in their wolf form. His clothes and gear are torn to shreds, and he pays no mind to Gaz and Price nearby as he grabs Soap’s arm, and, in a fit of desperation, sinks his teeth in.

It was the one thing he vowed he would never do. He would never turn a human. But he can’t let Soap go, he can’t just not do the one thing that could save his life. With a werewolf’s superior healing, Soap might have a chance.

Soap doesn’t die, but it’s a damn near thing. They take him to a nearby hospital, get him admitted and under the care of multiple doctors.

That was three days ago. It’s common knowledge that a human bitten by a shifted werewolf would turn within three days, and Ghost hopes that Soap is still unconscious when it happens, because the first time is a terrifying, painful process. He had been turned by Roba in his twenties. All day, he watches Soap carefully, but the man shows no signs of waking up from his medically induced coma.

Soap doesn’t wake up for another two weeks. When he does, he’s confused and utterly disoriented, and doesn’t recognize Ghost or the rest of the 141. Ghost pretends it doesn’t hurt. Even so, Ghost tells him that he had bitten Soap to save him, and Soap understands, is grateful even, thanking Ghost.

Despite his initial condition, Soap’s healing is remarkable. After a week, he recognizes his comrades again, and seems to be relieved of some of the confusion he had experienced. The wound near his temple begins to close up.

Ghost spends most of his days in Soap’s room. That room is where Soap and Ghost share their first kiss, Soap’s shaking hands grasping at Ghost’s jacket as their lips meet, Ghost whispering a soft Johnny against his lips.

Soap healed extraordinarily well, but even the healing powers of a werewolf can’t fully diminish the off and on numbness in his limbs, tremors, mood swings, and brain fog.

They medically discharge him.

Soap goes home to Scotland, and Ghost follows. For a week, they settle in, but Soap shows no signs of transforming, despite his apparent possession of a werewolf’s regenerative abilities.

It’s a good day when Soap shifts for the first time. He’s bright and happy, like the sergeant Ghost knew before, and his confusion is almost entirely gone. His tremors lessen, and Soap hasn’t complained of the numbness that sometimes annoyed him.

What he does complain about is the sudden onset of a full-body ache, as if his bones themselves are throbbing. He becomes suddenly irritable, clawing at his skin and hair and pacing, snapping at Ghost and groaning in pain.

These are signs he knows. Soap’s going to transform, and he’s going to transform quick now that it’s set in.

“Ghost, w-what do I do?!” Soap stammers, looking like he’s trying not to panic, his eyes wide and filled with fear. He’s never seen Soap panic before.

“Just relax, Johnny,” Ghost says soothingly, because he knows there’s nothing he can do other than support him. Nothing can stop lycanthropy except death. “It’ll be alright.”

“It hurts!” Soap cries out sharply, and then his cry becomes a choked sound not unlike a growl. He drops to his knees and hunches over, putting his hands on his head and gripping his hair between his fingers.

And then he starts to shift.

His mouth elongates into a snarling muzzle, baring sharp white canines, his ears lengthen and migrate to the top of his head, and the hair he’s holding between his fingers turns into fur. Soap sobs and says something that sounds like Ghost’s name, but then his vocal chords change, too, and it turns into a throaty bark. His spine and bones lengthen and grow denser, his fingernails morph into sharp claws, and a tail grows out of his spine as patches of fur grow over his skin.

It’s a few harrowing moments filled with Soap’s agonized cries and whines that make up Soap’s first shift. Ghost knows the feeling, and his stomach knots with sympathy. His own first shift had been one of the most painful things he had ever experienced.

Now fully shifted, Soap is huge, easily eight feet tall when standing upright, with a brown pelt just like his hair, a stripe along his back, long limbs, sharp claws, and a fluffy tail. His wild blue eyes, alight with fear, fixate on Ghost. Ghost tenses, nearly expecting Soap to try to attack him. He knows Soap could rip him apart before he’d have the chance to shift and fight back. That’s what he did to Roba, after all.

Soap does no such thing.

Instead, Soap lets out a whimper and curls in on himself, his tail going between his legs and his claws digging scratches into the floor. He doesn’t look like an eight foot tall killing machine, he looks like a kicked puppy.

“Johnny?” Ghost says quietly.

Soap’s blue eyes glance over to him, and he lets out another pleading whimper. His eyes hold a look of betrayal, of sorrow, of why me? His jaws open and something strangled comes out, like Soap’s trying to speak, but Ghost knows that they can’t, not in this form.

“Oh, Johnny,” he murmurs, and cautiously steps forward. He knows it’s dangerous to get in another werewolf’s space like this, but it’s Soap. When it comes to Soap, all rational thoughts fly out the window.

He reaches forward and gently touches Soap’s arm. Soap stiffens, and Ghost thinks he’s fucked up big time until Soap stumbles onto his hind legs, nuzzles into the crook of Ghost’s neck, and wraps his arms around Ghost. His claws catch on Ghost’s clothing and dig in as he grips Ghost tightly, and Ghost is momentarily stunned. He had acted in no such manner the first time he had shifted.

“See, Johnny? I told you it’d be alright,” Ghost says softly when he gets over his brief moment of surprise.

Soap stays shifted for the rest of the day, and shifts back as soon as his body is able.

It’s from there that Ghost teaches Soap how to handle his werewolf form. He transforms with Soap often, and they travel through the fields near Soap’s cabin, wrestle, play, and bond.

Ghost has never felt as understood or happy in his entire life. It’s a good life, what they’ve made for themselves.

#Wrote this in like an hour #The original plan was that Soap got stabbed but then MWIII came out lol #call of duty #cod #simon ghost riley #john soap mactavish #ghoap #soapghost #ghostsoap #werewolf soap #werewolf ghost #werewolves #drabble #lemonwrap writes #lame ending sorry guys

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forever--darling · 2 months

Text

summary: after three years spent away from home because of nasty divorce between your parents, you finally come back & realize that this time you might not be able to keep sam monroe away any longer.

pairings: sam monroe x reader

word count: 1.6k

warnings/notes: swearing, mentions of death, mentions of past feelings, mentions of childhood trauma, divorce, daddy issues, allusions to sex

masterlist

There was a lot of things you could attest to even only at twenty-one. After experiencing everything you had under one roof, it wasn’t hard not to grow up fast. To learn just how horrible it is loving someone because of what it can do to you. Something that still remained true even if both of your parents remarried because everything still sounded the same within that forsaken house.

The walls spoke the same languages that your parents would as they whispered, which eventually would become yelling. The indents still lingered with chipped paint near where your height marks resided in the doorframe. It was just as it had been at six and then eleven. Yet at twenty-one, having come home for the first time in over three years, to a house that now only is full of your father’s stuff, it only felt more vacant. More sad and debilitating.

Your sister never seemed to really accept any of that though, instead choosing to ignore it in favor of the free meals your father cooked or the platinum credit cards he would hand over. Something you were sure would pass along to you as well, anything to try and make you forget it all. But you didn’t. You couldn’t.

Which was why you still hadn’t ever been in a relationship, let alone ever hangout with anyone long enough to form an attachment. It was the only real reason you had never made a move on Sam Monroe when you were seventeen and in high school. Even as you both sat on a dusty couch littered with weed and beer in some abandoned basement. Even as he stared at you the way he had from behind, the black eyeliner and shadow, blue eyes practically undressing you, almost pulling you forward by a string. You had been a little high and a lot drunk, and yet, you still couldn’t. Not even after having had a crush on him for well over three years. Three years and you left that basement without one kiss or his fingers even tracing along the inside of your underwear.

Seventeen and even then you couldn’t let yourself like someone let alone get to the point of loving them.

So, how would it be any different? Sam Monroe stood in front of you that afternoon, under the hot sun, just outside the new house he and his father had built. Sweat stuck to his shirt, dark hair still present but void of blue dye. His piercings were there but left empty, and you couldn’t see any makeup. It hadn’t even looked like him at first.

But it was, and the shirt gave him away, that in the way your stomach immediately clenched, the familiarity of him enough to make you fall back into that last summer spent in that town before you left for college.

“Y/N?” his voice was deep, deeper than you had remembered, a sudden twang of confusion filling your ears as he processed your presence.

Standing in your father’s driveway, boxes scattered at your feet, hair pulled back messily out of your face, and beads of sweat appearing along your shoulders and neck. Still beautifully you.

“Sam, hi!”

You were just as surprised as him. Even more so as he seemed so different and yet still completely Sam; just taller, broader, even more like his father than you were expecting.

“You’re here.”

It sounded so much more like a question than a statement.

“Yeah.”

“Like you’re here in your dad’s driveway.”

You couldn’t help but laugh, “Yes.”

“It’s been three years.”

You stiffened, feeling as if your bones would break like they really did feel how long it had been and how much time had passed. It really had been that long. “I know. It’s been a while.”

“Too long, really,” he admitted, and somehow it had never sounded so charming before than it had then. That sudden shock seemed to melt away, and what only remained was a softness you hadn’t seen in him before. A teasing smile appeared as he took you in again.

You felt the lump appear in your throat, somehow matching the tightness in your chest. It was only Sam who could ever make you feel that way, even after three years.

“How are you?” he asked, stepping forward, his hand extending almost as if he wanted to touch you, possibly pull you into him. You didn’t know, but some part of you wished it would be the latter. A part of you craved a touch you had never met before.

“I’m good. Really good, actually.”

“Yeah, it looks that way,” he replied, enough to stain your cheeks with a newfound pink. “How in that time did you manage to grow up?”

“Me?” you giggled, pushing him lightly, your fingers lingering where they touched his forearm, “Look at you.”

He chuckled, that glint evident as ever, “What about me?”

“You have a house, Monroe. An actual house that I’m sure you pay taxes on with a job.”

“Yes.”

“And college?”

“Online classes, yeah,” he confirmed and you coudn’t deny the wide smile that appeared.

Almost like a swell of pride had formed — a sudden amazement that he really had done it proved everyone wrong in that fucking town.

“That’s great, Sam. It really is,” you smiled, that urge to touch him again appearing, but it somehow waned at the thought, “I was sorry to hear about your dad.”

He cleared his throat, the light diminishing but only briefly as his eyes danced across yours, almost trying to find something in them, “Yeah, thanks.”

“I can’t assume it was easy.”

“No.”

“I wish we could’ve been here for the funeral. I wanted to, but my professors wouldn’t let me reschedule my exams.”

“It’s okay, I understand. Both your parents sent very kind letters to us. I really appreciated them.”

You nodded, not knowing a response to it other than you should have done more. Texted, called, or tried to come back earlier, earlier than now, when you were only moving home for the summer. It was Sam. The way you felt about him was everything, really. Yet you were too consumed in the comfort of the distance and hiding. That was what you had focused on for so long.

Your head bowed, eyes unable to meet his, instead finding comfort in his sambas, and the green grass. Inhaling, you glanced up at the house. The house you never even saw complete until then. You took it in. “It truly is a beautiful house. You guys did a great job.”

“Yeah I think so too. Plus, it looked like it needed an adult to live in it.”

You looked back at him, the teasing demeanor having completely taken over his expression in the form of dark knitted brows and his bottom lip tucked between his teeth. “Adult?”

“Yes, since you think I’m so grown up.”

“You are, and I never thought I would see the day, Monroe. But, it seems I have.”

“It seems so. Finally, Y/N Y/L/N is home.”

“Yeah,” you agreed, somehow feeling a small sliver of the universe realign. Perhaps by the way he was looking at you or the reality that would become of you because of him. Feelings you were sure never really left in the first place. “I will say not much has changed around here. Well, except for one thing.”

His brows furrowed, lip lifting in interest as you took in his clean face.

“The black eyeliner. I'm not lying when I say I might miss it.”

“Really?” he chuckled.

“Yeah, it was totally working.”

“Working?”

You nodded, a teasing look of your own apparent, “Yeah. It was hot. Hm, just never thought you would be so different.”

“Different?” he scoffed, the words somehow completely wrong as they left your lips, “I’m not that different, Y/N. I’m still me.”

“Right,” you nodded, eyes following how his chest rose and fell, the t-shirt alone catching your attention, the bright yellow words somehow something you would expect to be said, “Well, I’m glad some things stayed the same.”

He smirked, following my gaze to the front of his shirt. It was black with bright yellow bolded writing which said, ‘I’m good in bed. I can sleep all day.’ The same type of fucking shirt that seventeen-year-old him would wear, seeming unable to part from the looks he would get when people would read them.

“God, you wore stupid shirts like this all the time.”

“Hey! I find them pretty funny. They’re charming if anything.”

“Charming?” you laughed, the word fitting Sam exactly though you were sure no other girl would have described it that way back then. “It can only be charming if it’s true.”

“True?”

“Yes,” you replied, the word a mere mumble as you truly noted how it felt with him standing so close, looming over you.

“Well, how about you can be the one to decide if it’s charming. Let you tell me if I am good in bed or not. Would make for an interesting summer, wouldn’t it?”

You knew then you were fucked. So completely and inevitably because you had waited that long. Since you were seventeen sitting in that hot gross basement, him only a few inches from you. You had waited, and suddenly Sam seemed so much more tantalizing, enough so you would maybe give in. Just this once.

#inbox #anon inbox #💌 asks #anakin skywalker #anakin skywalker x reader #hayden christensen #hayden christensen x reader #blurb #sam monroe imagine #sam monroe x reader

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zoeysdamn · 1 year

Text

Bloodied petals - Xavier Thorpe x reader | Part.2

Summary: Denial and weird roommates aren’t helping your health to improve. During the Poe cup, Xavier starts to suspect that something is wrong.

Warnings: angst, mention of blood, swearing.

A/N: definitely not proof-read and English isn’t my mother tongue, but the hype for the angst™ was stronger Also, shitty timeline, I have legit no memory of how long days pass in this show.

[Masterlist] [Part.1]

A few days had passed since that night. The frequency of the coughs hadn’t died down, although it was always quite unpredictable. Some days were easier than others, you only sneezed a few petals here and there; but some others were filled with sharp pain in your chest, uncontrollable coughs and whole flowers throwed up at the worst moments. You even started to feel lightheaded sometimes, as the unforgiving pressure on your chest squeezed harder and harder with every cough.

Thankfully you always managed to excuse yourself when you felt the pressure of a rough cough starting to build up in your chest. Like now, you were kneeling on one of the restroom’s floors, bent over the toilet sink and throwing up everything you could to try to free your lungs at least a little. Silently praying that no one was around to hear your choking sounds, you managed to throw out the last flower out of your throat. Wiping your mouth with the back of your trembling hand, you flushed the toilet, watching the white petals coated in blood being washed away. Sighing, you closed the toilet lid and sat on it, burying your face in your hands. Those last days had been hectic and your condition hadn’t improved the slightest. It even seemed worse than before, with some violent setbacks like now. It sometimes felt so hard to breathe for a few minutes, while you had never experienced any serious health issues before.

Maybe it was the stress; after Rowan’s aggression at the fair, Wednesday’s allegations about his death, then him being expelled, nothing made sense these days. Xavier hadn’t mentioned anything from that evening in his dorm. The day after had been a little bit awkward, but then the both of you acted like nothing happened; still, you started to put some distance between you. Firstly because you didn’t want to make things more weird, and second because you didn’t want anyone to know about that strange condition of yours. Plus, the sensation of aching lungs seemed to be worse every time you were around him. It surely didn’t mean anything, but it was a good excuse to avoid him until your health improved.

Checking your phone you noticed that your next class was about to start in a few minutes. So you gathered yourself, wiped the last remaining traces of tears or blood on your face, and got out of the restroom.

You slid on your seat in literature class just in time before the teacher started their lecture. Trying to pull out your notes and pen the more discreetly you could, you didn’t notice the worried look Xavier gave you from across the room. It wasn’t like you at all to be late for class. Even less to be so clumsy, he noted internally as you dropped your pen for the third time in five minutes. Xavier frowned. Something felt off about you and he couldn’t help but feel guilty about it deep down. You had left his dorm hurriedly last time ; he didn’t know exactly why but he still had the feeling he had something to do with it.

So when class was dismissed and all the students exited the room he rushed to catch you in the corridor.

“Hey,” he called softly when reaching you.

Your head whipped in his direction, eyes wide. You had been so deep in your thoughts you hadn’t heard him.

“Hey,” you breathed back. His sudden apparition had almost startled you.

Xavier opened his mouth, about to say something but then he noticed your wince at the loud barks and laughs of a few werewolves students passing by. The quad was full of students at this break time, and your recent lack of sleep made you irritable to the ambient noise.

So he grabbed your hand and muttered something about the place being too loud as he gently tugged you in a corridor. The sudden contact had made your heart race despite the familiarity of it; you silently prayed that he couldn’t feel your racing pulse under his long fingers, delicately wrapped around your wrist.

The two of you finally reached one of the corridors above the quad, much quieter than the place full of students. When it was clear that no one else was up here, Xavier let go of your wrist and turned to you.

“Hey,” he repeated, “are you alright?”

The sudden question made your heart start to race in panic. Has he noticed something? Did he find a petal in his dorm?

“You were late in class earlier,” he clarified at your lack of response, “you overslept or something?”

You almost sighed loudly in relief. “I- yeah I overslept this morning,” you lied with a small smile - you hoped it was reassuring enough. “Enid must’ve forgot to wake me up ah ah.”

Even if you laughed about it and brushed it away, Xavier was still not fully convinced. You were a decent liar to anyone else, but not to him, he knew you too well for that.

“Look, about what happened last night in my room…” he started awkwardly, licking his lips nervously, “I’m sorry you left so suddenly.”

You looked at him, eyes wide. “I- no that’s okay,” you stuttered, surprised he brought that up. “I had stuff to take care of, anyway.”

“Really?” he asked immediately, narrowing his eyes.

Taken aback by his fast response you could only stare at him, mouth slightly agape and lost for words. He was totally not buying it.

“Because you left in quite a hurry,” added Xavier, crossing his arms over his chest.

You looked away, licking your lips nervously. Why couldn’t he drop it? Or at least, figure out what had been bothering you? Maybe it’ll help you understand, because you weren’t so sure of what had hurt you so much either.

“It’s nothing, okay?” you mumbled quietly, still looking anywhere but at Xavier. “I just…I didn’t want to be too much, that's all.”

Too much, or overstepping in your fascination for Wednesday, you thought internally. But then, a hand came to cup your cheek and turn your face back to Xavier.

“Hey,” he said softly, and his voice made you look up at him. His warm brown eyes bore deep into yours, like a reassuring presence. “You will never be too much, okay? Not to me.”

You lightly gasped at his words, you didn’t even realize you released a breath. The tension that had been building inside your chest, full of anxiety and stifling sorrow, suddenly disappeared. Like his words were enough to blow away the petals that were threatening to come out your mouth.

“I know I acted as an idiot, okay?” he continued. Though his hand never left your cheek, and you were internally grateful for that. “I shouldn’t have dropped everything to start sketching while you were there.”

This felt like a cold shower. Ah, so that was what he thought he did wrong. Maybe it was, but the memory of what happened was still painful to you.

“I can’t stop you from drawing Xav,” you said, reluctantly pushing yourself away from his touch. “It wouldn’t be fair of me.”

Xavier frowned at you as you readjusted the strap of your bag over your shoulder, like you were ready to go. Never in all the years he had known you, you had ever fled his company. Yet, his presence seemed to make you uncomfortable now. Shit, how much of a prick had he been?

While he was stuck in his internal debate, you sighed. Of course, this topic was over for him. So you turned and started to walk away from him. That made Xavier snap back to reality, and a sliver of lucidity suddenly hit him.

“This is about Wednesday, isn’t it?” he called from behind.

That made you stop dead in your tracks and snap your head to him, eyebrows raised high.

“What?” you whispered.

The fact that it had made you react was maybe a sign that he was somehow right. As your mind tried to understand it all, the look of surprise on your face somehow reminded Xavier of the sadness that had emanated from you when you had left his room that night. It made his heart squeeze because he knew it was because of him.

“I- I know her. From before,” he explained, unsure about how to present things. “I met her when we were kids. She saved my life”

“Why didn’t you tell me?” you asked perplexedly.

He opened his mouth once, twice, searching for the right words. “I don’t know,” he finally admitted.

Your throat felt suddenly tight. Like something bitter was stuck. “Is that why you admire her so much?” you asked, and you hear your voice crack a little. Hopefully with the distance, Xavier wouldn’t notice.

He didn’t. “I don’t know,” he repeated, still unsure of himself. He seemed as lost as you. “I just want to get to know her, you know?”

Deep in your chest, you felt your heart crack a little. It felt like the lightweightness you had felt only a few minutes earlier were gone, leaving your rib cage feeling like it was crushed by vines.

And yet, you couldn’t help but swallow everything, the bitter taste, the petals that started to gather in your lungs and the burning sensation of tears, and put on a brave smile.

“Well then, good luck Xav,” you smiled, hoping that your lips wouldn’t wobble too much. “I hope you’ll succeed in that.”

After all, you were his best friend. It wasn’t fair of you to stop him from reaching new friends, you had never had any problem with any of them before. But once again, none of his other friends had captivated him like that.

As you walked away once again, you heard him call you again.

“You’re still my girl, you know that right?”

His words made you stop. Slightly glancing behind your shoulder, you could see his sad eyes plagued with guilt; but you knew better, and recognized the sparkle in them. The unmistakable sparkle that twinkled in his eyes when you were speaking in hushed tones together, sharing secrets and moments, only the two of you. When he called you his girl, like he started to years ago. The two kids whose guardians were too busy to properly take care of, who swore to have each other’s back.

The familiarity of the nickname flooded your heart with warmth, and to Xavier’s relief it also made your lips curl into a fond smile.

“Yeah,” you answered softly, “I know.”

Walking to your next class, you felt lighter than before. The oppressing sensation of your lungs being squeezed was still here, always crawling behind your rib cage, but it felt like there was a little less pressure than before. Maybe there would be fewer petals today.

“Ah, there you are!” cheered Enid the next day, as you joined her on the yard after one of your classes. “Guess what! Wednesday agreed to substitute for Yoko’s role as co-captain for the race!”

“Really?” you asked, giving your gloomy roommate a surprised look.

“I never turn down an occasion for a crushing revenge,” she said flatly.

“It’ll be a roomie's bonding time!” squealed Enid, looking at the both of you excitedly. “All three of us, competing for the Poe cup!”

Wednesday raised her eyebrow at you, “I didn’t take you for the type to indulge in those childish games, Y/N. You just lost my entire respect.”

You shrugged, still unaffected by your new roommate’s brutal comments, “The school’s offering an occasion to legally try to drown other students, I’d be stupid to not have fun in that.”

“Fair enough,” she observed sharply. “You’ve regained my respect.”

That made you chuckle. Even if the apparent infatuation of Xavier for Wednesday pained you, you genuinely enjoy your new roommate’s company. She was weird, but again, everyone kind of was at Nevermore.

“What are you and Xavier to each other?” asked Wednesday suddenly.

The unexpected change of subject made you choke slightly. You had definitely not seen that one coming.

“Excuse me?” you said perplexed.

“I asked about the nature of the relationship between you and Xavier Thorpe,” deadpanned Wednesday.

God, why was her question making you so uneasy suddenly? You had never minded to bring the subject up, after all rumors at Nevermore were frequent and you were indeed close with him. But after what had happened - or almost happened - last time in his room, you weren’t so sure of what to say. Licking your lips nervously, unsure of how to present things, you turned to your other roommate silently pleading for help. But Enid only giggled excitedly.

“They’re best-friends to lovers' material,” she said with an amused smile.

“I don’t understand a single word you had just said,” sneered back Wednesday.

“We grew up together,” you finally said to interrupt Enid from spilling all of her theories about the two of you. “We’re close friends that’s all.”

The blonde werewolf gave you a wicked smile, “Suuuure you are.”

Rolling your eyes, you refocused on Wednesday, “Why are you asking?”

She only narrowed her eyes at you, “Gathering intel on potential suspects, that’s all.”

That brought a nervous laugh out of you, “Excuse me, what?”

“Nothing for you to worry about,” she snapped back, “if I ever need information about him I know who I’ll need to bribe,” she finished before turning and walking away.

You stood here dumbfounded for a moment, before coming after her.

“Hey!” you called her as you caught up with her until you were now facing her. “I don’t know what you’re suspecting of, but Xavier’s innocent, alright? And I won’t tell you anything if you’re trying to drag dirt on him, okay?”

Wednesday stared at you before answering, “You’d make an acceptable person if you didn’t let your emotions cloud your judgment so pathetically.”

“Thank you for the advice about social skills,” you said dryly, “but also, none of your damn business.”

She only shrugged and stepped away. “He’ll come to me anyway, considering he’s acting like a sad puppy for some reason.”

As she walked away, her words rang in your head. The harsh squeeze on your lungs it suddenly triggered was proof enough that she was unfortunately right.

The day of the Poe cup came around faster than you expected. Still, you were glad for the occasion to drift your mind away from the plaguing thought of your concerning condition. Enid and Wednesday were still unaware of it; when the coughs had started to shake you awake at night, your silencing spell had come handy. Now you cast it almost every night to prevent your roommates from hearing your gruesome choking.

“Aww we match!” clapped Enid as you and Wednesday joined the rest of the team in your cat costumes.

“Don’t get used to it,” groaned the Addams.

“So, are we ready?” asked the werewolf, “Everyone knows what they have to do?” At the collective nod, she cheered again and all the team members took place in the canoe.

“I thought you’d be co-captain, Y/N” observed Wednesday while grabbing her paddle.

“I’m much more useful at the back, trust me,” you said with a grin, “witch powers.”

That almost brought the tiniest smile to her face. At least Wednesday seemed to enjoy the competitive aspect of the race. Glancing to your right to the Joker's canoe, you caught a glimpse of Xavier at the front of the boat. You looked at his face painted in creepy clown makeup, and for a brief moment, you thought that he was actually pretty attractive like that. Shaking your head to chase the intrusive thought you mentally scowled yourself. Now was not the time! Despite that you glanced at him once again; only to feel your heart squeeze a little more at the sight of him looking to Wednesday. His words a few days prior rang in your head. You’re still my girl, you know that, right? Yes, you knew. But even if you were his girl, his oldest friend, it wasn’t you he was currently staring at like you were the only person in the world. You couldn’t hold back the cough that pushed itself out of your throat violently this time. The intensity of your coughing fit was new, shaking you so hard you ended up bent in half with your hand clutched on your mouth, trying to tune down your stifling noises.

“Y/N, you okay back there?” called Enid from her seat.

The wet sensation on your hand made you wince. “I’m fine,” you wheezed, “ ‘s nothing”

As soon as the coughs calmed down, you threw whatever you had regurgitated on the canoe floor before anyone could notice. Lifting your head up to recompose yourself, you caught sight of the face of your best friend, concerned in his eyes.

‘You alright?’ you saw Xavier mouth.

The only thing you could do was to nod before the sound of a blown horn indicated the start of the race. Without wasting a single minute, every team started to row like their life depended on it. Your eyes briefly flickered to your feet; between them laid three whole white lilies tainted with blood. You gulped. Now was really not the time.

After an eventful crossing of the lake, where you had your head almost chopped off by the Joker’s ax, your team finally managed to reach the island. While Wednesday ran to find the flag, you stayed to ensure nobody tried to sabotage your canoe �� as Enid did to the Joker’s.

As you saw the two other teams coming back with their flags and sail again you started to worry about Wednesday. Has something happened to her? Before you and Enid started to talk about who should check on her, she appeared again, flag in hand.

“I got it, let’s go!”

All of your team jumped in your canoe in a hurry, and left the island in the blink of an eye.

“We’re far behind everyone else!” shouted one of your teammates. “We’re not gonna make it!”

“Y/N!” shouted Enid, “Think you can give us a little push?”

Immediately dropping your paddle inside the boat, you inhaled deeply, “I can! Brace yourselves ladies, hold tight!”

Trying to slow down your breathing you concentrated hard, reaching down to your powers and started to mutter the words of incantation. The water at the back of the boat suddenly started to shiver, and the next thing your team knew, the canoe was propelled onward by a hard push. They all gripped the edges of the boat to steady themselves as you gained speed, rapidly gaining a foothold your opponents.

“That’s amazing!” screamed Enid over her shoulder, “How long do you think can hold this?”

Deep into concentration you tried to not break the spell, “Long enough for us to reach the shore if everything goes smoothly!”

Out of the corner of your eye you noticed a move in the water. One of the sirens.

“Wednesday!” you called her, “Eight o’clock!”

She whipped her head, immediately identifying the threat and nodded sharply. Thing crawled out from under her seat, and dove into the water. Oh, you loved that hand.

The outline of the shores were noticeable by now, so you reached deeper into your powers to try to give your boat a little more speed. The canoe accelerated again, going past Bianca’s team's flowing boat, but as you thought you could make a home run of this crossing, a violent cough startled you. The sudden stop in the push of your power shook the boat, your other team mates screaming in surprise while you tried the hardest to breathe.

“What’s going on?!” asked Enid.

Failing to swallow your coughs you could only hope for this fit to be a brief one, “Don’t cough stop,” you wheezed from your seat, “start cough cough paddling, we’re almost there!”

They all grabbed their paddles and started to paddle like their lives depended on it. You tried to keep up their paces, but the unforgiving coughs were weakening you too much. For a moment, you wondered if you weren’t going to pass out in the canoe. But then, as you approached the shore the euphoria of close victory on the boat gained you, and with a rush of adrenaline, you jumped out of the boat with your teammates, rushing to the finish line.

Cheers echoed everywhere around you, congratulating the Ophelia team. Even the feeling of petals scratching in your throat couldn’t ruin your joy for once. You knew swallowing it down was coming to bite you later, and that you were going to spend the evening throwing up petals and blood, but for now you wanted to feel normal.

Below on the shore, as the other teams reached the land Xavier’s eyes landed on a white and red spot on the ground of the black cat’s canoe. He frowned at the bloodied flowers, especially when he realized they were where you had sat. How did the flowers end up here?

Whipping his head in the direction of the joyful cheers, his eyes landed on you, your broad smile as Enid’s arms were thrown over your shoulders. It had been a long time since he hadn’t seen you smile like that.

But the way you turned away your face and covered your mouth with your hand to cough, just for a few seconds, didn’t escape him. Nor the slight smudge of blood dripping on the corner of your mouth just before you wiped it.

His eyes flickered to the blood-coated flowers in the boat, then back to you and a cold feeling suddenly sank inside of him.

Something felt off. Xavier didn’t know why yet, but something about you was very, very wrong.

[Part.3]

A/N: this was supposed to be a two-part one shot. Well, guess I'm writing a whole fic now Y'all are CRAZY about sad artistic blorbo Xavier and I love you for that sjgkgurgirge thank you for all the kind comments on the previous part QwQ♥

Hope you’re all doing okay, take care of you ♥

Taglist:

@apocalypticnova ; @libdarkheart ; @ameliabs-world ; @certifeidlovergirll ; @aeisnoa ; @cat-loves-music ; @coolchick333 ; @eringaitskilll ; @flowersownme ; @sweaterxav ; @sssleepless ; @l4venderia ; @eileen201804 ; @persipeonii ; @coldheartedmar ; @chaosfrisur ; @littlebabyk

Plz tell me if I’ve forgotten you in the taglist (or if you wanna join!)

#xavier thorpe #xavier x reader #wednesday #wednesday series #wednesday netflix #wednesday addams #xavier x you #xavier thorpe x you #xavier thorpe x reader #xavier thorpe angst #hanahaki disease #no beta we die like men

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kilibaggins · 4 months

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Promise | Daryl Dixon

Daryl Dixon x Reader

A/N: I've loved daryl dixon since middle school and now i feel like i should try to write him! this was not requested but i really felt like writing for him so here i am.

Summary: Ever since things started slowing down at the prison, and more people started to join the group, Daryl started... Distancing himself from you. You've had enough.

my requests are very much open just so you know! go ahead and request something just read my rules first (its linked in pinned)

Word Count: 1100

The prison has been without incident for two weeks now. A couple weeks ago a fight broke out, and before that, it had been a case of theft… Things that remind you of the old world. Small things compared to some of the big ones you've experienced.

Things seem… Nice. People are starting to flourish, people are starting to grow. You've made new friends, new fellow survivors who you share your days with. It's comforting to know that after everything you have somewhere safe to be, even if only for now.

The only thing is that… Daryl never talks to you.

See, to many people this might be normal. He's Mr. Macho. He's the one that stays secluded and isolated and never talks unless he has to but… This is different. He's always been different with you. You've always been the one who tries your best to check on him, to care for him, even when he's pushing himself away.

Even back on Hershel's farm, when he kept his tent far away, you walked out there every day to check on him and keep him company. When Andrea accidentally shot him and he seemed to be on death's door you were the one to help him through that.

Once the farm got overrun, and you all started frantically trying to find a new place to be, you two had gotten even closer. He'd watch your back, and you'd try to watch his, it was as great as a new friendship could be in a world that has ended.

But after the prison got up and running and after things calmed down he started to… Disappear. When you'd go to find him for hunts he wouldn't be there, or he'd already be gone. When you'd try to do anything with him he'd practically push you into a different group.

You have to admit, it hurts. You thought things were going well, but all of a sudden he's completely cold-shouldering you.

It's been a long day, and in your frustration, you realize that all you want is the man you had once thought of as your best friend. Daryl. You huff and climb on the long stairs of the prison up to the back where Daryl put his cell. Pretty much as far away from everyone as possible, in true Daryl fashion.

“Hey…” You say, leaning against the entranceway to the cell. The cell door is only half closed and you see he's cleaning his bow.

“What?” He asks, instead of saying hello back. You roll your eyes.

“Just wanted to talk for a minute.” You say, trying to smile at him.

“Then talk.” He says, his voice frustrated. You feel the emotion pool up in your chest.

“I just- How have you been? We haven't talked much lately, but-”

“Ya got anything important to say or are ya just here to bug me?” Daryl asks, finally looking up at you. You tear up and turn away, taking a few steps away from the cell.

“Whatever…” You say. Before you make it to the stairs though you pause. You turn around and march to the door. “You know you don't have to be such a jerk.”

“'Scuse me?” Daryl asks, his eyes piercing as he puts down his crossbow.

“You heard me. What is your problem?” You ask, angry. You're done having him ignore you like this. “All I want to do is talk to my best friend for more than ten minutes-”

“Best friend? Please, ya can't be serious.” Daryl snaps. He stands up and throws his arms out. “I ain't yer best friend. Go talk to someone else.”

“What happened to us being close, huh? You used to like being around me.” You say, your voice raising.

“I did like bein’ around ya. But things change.” Daryl says, turning around and picking up his jacket. He always has to be fidgeting with something.

“Why?” You ask, your voice breaking a bit. You cough and shake your head. “Why do things have to change? What did I do wrong?”

“Ya didn't do nothing. Just… Just go be with someone else. I got issues I gotta take care of.” He says. He isn't looking at you, head looking down at the small patch on his jacket that you added.

“… I don't want to be with someone else.” You say.

“Well, ya should!” Daryl suddenly yells. “Go be with someone actually worth somethin’.”

Your heart breaks. You finally step into his cell and walk up to him. He's purposefully avoiding eye contact with you and you reach out and touch his arm. He moves away only for a second before letting you touch him.

“Daryl… You're my best friend. I'm gonna be honest, you're probably more than that, you mean the world to me. You're who I want to be around… Don't tell me you've been pushing me away because of that.”

Daryl doesn't say anything and frowns. He looks at you before looking back down.

“Don't want ya findin' out ya wasted yer time on me,” Daryl says. You reach up and gently tuck his hair behind his ear. He flinches slightly and you frown.

“Let me make that choice, okay?” You say gently.

“But-”

“Let me make my own choices. I want to be around you. I want to talk to you and hang out with you. You're it for me, whether you want it to be romantic or platonic, I want you in my life.” You say. You reach down and straighten his shirt. “Everyone else here doesn't get what we've been through. You do. Do you want me around?”

“Yeah, but-”

“Then you’re stuck with me.” You say, smiling at him.

"M'sorry." He says, as he tries to look away to hide his smile but you catch it anyways.

“There you are.” You say, grinning.

“Stop.” He mumbles, trying to turn away again, his smile getting bigger. You grab his hands turn him back to you and smile widely at him. You love his smile. “Said stop, punk.”

You laugh and lean up to kiss his cheek. You can feel how warm it is.

“Don’t leave me, okay?” You ask, looking up at him. Your smile is gone now, and he can tell you’re serious. “Don’t push me away. Please.”

“A’right. Promise.” He says, shrugging, but he still has that genuine look in his eyes.

“Pinky promise?” You ask, holding out your pinky. He rolls his eyes.

“What're ya, six?”

“Shut up and pinky promise me, Dixon.” You say, laughing. He scoffs and his pinky interlocks with yours.

“Promise.”

#daryl dixon #daryl dixon x reader #the walking dead #daryl dixon imagine #the walking dead imagine #my fanfic #twd #thewalkingdead #daryldixon #daryl dixon x you #daryl dixon x y/n

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theerurishipper · 8 months

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Anyway, I had a discussion a while back about how Adrien wasn't abused before Emilie's death and I gotta say I disagree, but I'm feeling too lazy to write a whole post about it so here are some bullet points.

Adrien has no friends except for Chloe. I wonder why the boy who is so desperate for emotional connections and friendships would not want to or try to make friends for 13 years except for one girl who is conveniently the daughter of the mayor of Paris unless his parents didn't let him.

Gabriel canonically only gave Adrien a stupid pen for three years (i.e. during the time Emilie was alive) and doesn't that paint a picture of a loving and attentive father. Adrien has also never had a birthday party before.

Adrien's lack of awareness of social cues doesn't make it seem like he is someone who was allowed to socialize like children normally are, and speaks to a lifelong isolation as opposed to it just starting after Emilie died.

Adrien doesn't act like someone who is used to unconditional love and had it stripped away from him. Never does he express confusion over his father's sudden turn from being loving to coldness, not once does he indicate that his father used to act way differently. And yes, Emilie being nice and loving is something that can coexist with her being a bad parent who at best simply allowed Gabriel to isolate Adrien from the world and at worst actively contributed. Adrien only ever mentions that she was nice, not that she ever disagreed with his father on how to raise him.

Please do correct me if I'm wrong, but I don't think a child who is used to being assured of his own worth and loved so unconditionally for 13 years would so completely internalize the contradictory idea that he has to earn love by being whatever the other person wants him to be in the span of less than a year without any trouble and with no doubts or confusion at all as to why everything is so different from before. The practiced way he wears his masks around others without once suggesting that it was different before at some point indicates that this has been the norm for him. And not once does he seem to expect anything different from anyone as opposed to just Gabriel. You would expect that someone who is used to being unconditionally loved would just expect that and view his father as an exception to the rule, but that's not the case.

To continue from the previous point, Adrien doesn't react to being shown unconditional love like someone who has experienced the feeling before would. Not once does he bemoan the loss of his supposed better treatment prior to Emilie's death. He acts genuinely surprised and shocked when Gabriel is nice to him, like he's never experienced it before. The way he clings to Ladybug's unconditional support like it's the best thing he's ever had doesn't speak of someone who was raised with unconditional love in abundance. He genuinely does not know how to not put up a front all the time in front of everyone because he believes that is what everyone expects of him, which is something that he probably shouldn't think if he spent 13 years of his life being loved and supported unconditionally and being able to be himself.

As evidence for this being a lifelong thing and not just something that started after Emilie died, consider the fact that Adrien's childhood dream is to be whatever his parents wanted him to be. Idk about y'all but the fact that this child had no dreams and desires of his own except to be his parents' little doll says a lot about how he was raised, and only proves that he's never really seen himself as someone who gets to have his own desires outside of pleasing his parents and having to earn their love even as a child, proving my point that this isn't something that started less than a year ago.

No, but Wishmaker really did shit all over the "Adrien's life only became bad after Emilie's death" argument huh. I sincerely question why anyone thinks that Emilie wasn't abusive after watching that episode.

And idk, the fact that he was constantly mind-controlled by his parents his whole life should be enough to understand that they are abusive pieces of shit.

My impression is that it got worse after Emilie died but was pretty bad before already (I mean, I thought it couldn't get much worse than mind-control, but Gabriel the asshat managed to make it happen). But honestly, the show has such an inconsistent tone with their portrayal of Emilie. They seem to want her to be seen as a good and loving and perfect mother, but then there are so many unfortunate implications regarding her treatment of Adrien that they just... do not acknowledge.

#MLB #Miraculous Ladybug #Adrien Agreste #Gabriel Agreste #Emilie Agreste #Chat Noir #Meta #My meta #ML Salt #ML Writing Salt #Abuse cw #Abuse tw

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lovefromremus · 1 year

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sometimes i think of just how earth-shattering neil's existence must have been for andrew. like andrew is here, content with not having any other purpose but looking after his family. then all of a sudden a skittish, brunette boy turns up and, even on the drugs, andrew can't help but look at him a little longer then he does matt or kevin or any other boy he sees. but it's okay - his brain is affected by the drugs.

but then oh he has gorgeous blue eyes and oh he can actually be quite witty and, dare he say, funny at times. interesting. he is not scared by andrew.

andrew finds himself sharing little things, like phones and seats in the maserati for him.

and then all of a sudden, drake was back. and neil was protecting him - so was aaron. and then andrew's gone and proust is here but then at least he is off the drugs.

thinking everything would go back to a new kind of normal, andrew comes back only to find neil is well and truly neil now with gorgeous auburn hair and bright blue eyes shimmering with life even after seeing death so many times.

andrew finds himself looking at neil more, looking for neil more. neil who went to the nest for him, who experienced unworldly torture to keep andrew safe that ended up being futile anyways.

when neil accepts all of his disgusting secrets and truths and, in the moments where andrew does nothing but hate himself, neil finds something to latch onto and respect. neil who accepts his kiss even without warning, and who keeps accepting his touches and no matter what, unlike anyone else andrew has ever met, respects his boundaries and what it is andrew cannot take.

for once in his life, andrew is enough for someone. the little things he can give are enough for the boy who had never had a thing of his own.

but think about then, how he must have felt, when neil was gone. and andrew slowly realises the meaning behind those words. thank you, you were amazing. it made andrew feel sick to his stomach and somehow his hands had made it to kevin's neck despite his promise to protect him.

all he needed was to find him. find neil. it was only once it was gone that andrew recognized the ache that was neil, the hole he had left open and oozing blood.

andrew almost feels disgusted with himself at the relief he feels when he sees neil alive and breathing in that little room. but before that can register in his mind, andrew is already up close and touching him once more. and more than disgust, andrew feels relief.

#all for the game #aftg #andrew minyard #psu foxes #andreil #palmetto state university #neil josten #the foxhole court #aaron minyard #kevin day

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tendergraphite · 1 year

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Richard Papen: The Master of Illusion

Why did Richard become an accomplice, how could he so easily be swayed to ''Allow'' murder? The answer is simple: He longed for the picturesque—at any cost.

Richard grew up isolated, and seen as an inconvenience; Nineteen-years-of-life and not a single mention of an old friend (Apart from an ex-girlfriend he was desperate to rid of)—It's why he idolises Hampden and the Greek Scholars to such a fictitious degree, they represented everything he did not have: Fundamental familial experiences with love, being cared for, and feeling wanted.

They were beautiful, but beauty cannot replace what he hadn't had.

The Motive: To sum it all up in a pretty bow for you; Richard left his morals at the door once Henry rescued him—All of his fears had not only been amplified in chapter 3, but realised; His Parents distain, his Teachers neglect, his lack of companionship, his very existence unperceived (tainted): All of which almost led him to his own grave, with nowhere else to turn.

The side-character to his own story, the man everyone felt passive-disdain for (Not even hatred, that would be too impassioned—To personal.) But for the first time, someone caught him when he fell. For the first time he was shown compassion, Henry stayed by his bedside when he was too ill to do much else other than lay in pain, and Henry made it clear he would recover within his own home and very bed—An action Richard could never forget—Of course he'd put Henry atop a pedestal, and become so agreeable for his Messiah; Richard had never experienced such guidance nor support in his entire life.

After a life of desperation for an escape—After everything which previously had been brimmed with dread, suddenly leaked beauty: Was it really a question of if once glanced, whether he'd franticly flail to grasp it again? Of if he'd insert himself into these people's lives, and make any sacrifice possible to return their tranquil silence once it had been so foolishly broken by Bunny?

Now the real reason I am creating this post: That's right I fooled you into reading my theory MWHAHA!—Richard Papen was the one to push Bunny, not Henry. I figured I'd get his motive out of the way before we'd delve into pure insanity.

The most notable part of the actual murder is it's never written who pushes Bunny. One of the general ideas for the reason is it didn't matter who it was, simply that they were all complicite... But that's a little boring, so let's pick at this wound. It simply couldn't have been Henry; He was thirty-feet-away, his shear distance keeps coming up too—But with Richard, Bunny was practically breathing down his neck, he was close enough to read the label on the bear bottle.

He describes being overwhelmed by Bunny's sudden appearance, but really it was anticipation: Because Richard realized he'd have to be the one to push him. If Henry had tried to push Bunny it couldn't of logistically worked, there is no element of surprise as Henry is too faraway and within Bunny's direct sight, he has his full attention. Henry may be large but so is Bunny, it's even directly mentioned here how he's 6 foot 3; Not to mention Bunny had fully been expecting Henry to attempt to murder him at some point.

You could argue he was just to stupid to fight back—However, Richard may never describe the push, but he does go into deep details on the shear surprise and shock on Bunny's face; He well and truly hadn't seen his emendate death coming. Dumbassery doesn't entirely dull out your reflexes nor does it suddenly make you the size of Francis scrawny ass.

Bun entirely trusted Richard, all Richards previous machinations of Bunny's jealousy for him he'd made up in his own mind and didn't actually match in Bunny's actions.

Richards within shoulder length, and Henry, who limps and is too far to seize the element of surprise: The push—The fall, Richard watches each and every moment of Bunny's death at an intimate proximity.

It just couldn't have been Henry, I'm sorry.

It all loops back to why Richard would've felt the need to commit this murder, because yes Henry manipulates Richard well and truly but it completely backfires due to Richards traumatic history: Ultimately he killed Bun out of his own volition, and selfish desire for the picturesque lifestyle he'd only so recently acquired.

And finally, Donna Tartts quote of The Greeks and The Irrational

Dionysus [is] The Master of Illusions, who could make a vine grow out of a ship's plank, and in general enable his votaries to see the world as the world's not.

We are reminded of who our narrator is, and then must listen to Richard try desperately to twist his language in order to fool us into believing Henry had well and truly committed the murder without implicating either of them.

But no man who was a mere witness describes a murder in the way Richard chose to, it is morbid and soaked in guilt. He goes on a tangent about murderers always avoiding telling the meat of their crimes, but really he was doing so to avoid telling us the true events of that evening; He goings in circles around the incident constantly, never landing on the mark.

God this post got long, if you made it through the entire thing oh my gosshhh hiiiiiiiiiiiiiii how are youuuu :)

#the secret history #richard papen #henry winter #tsh analysis

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wildfloweroutlaw · 1 year

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Protective and Proud

~~~~~~~~~~

pairing: arthur morgan X female reader

drabble: arthur being protective

summary: when arthur and reader’s night is so rudely interrupted, arthur has to show his protective side.

a/n: sorry for the short writing hiatus, school kicked my ass this semester. this was originally just meant to help me get back into the swing of writing, but i figured i’d share in case someone enjoys it :)

word count: 1,652 words

~~~~~~~~~~

You impatiently shifted from one foot to the other, back pressed against the wooden hitching post just outside the sheriff’s office. The sun had already started its decent below the mountains in the distance a while ago, leaving the street lamps to cast a soft yellow glow on the town of Valentine. A few people still meandered about in the street, but for the most part the town was empty. Save for the saloon of course, you often found yourself glancing that way to observe the drunken citizens coming in and out of the swinging saloon doors, laughter and music filtering out into otherwise quiet night.

You fished in your pocket for your watch, glancing down at the little hands that read 7:30. Arthur had told you to meet him here at 7 p.m sharp for a drink or two. You shoved the watch back into your pocket, sighing dramatically, though you urged yourself to be more patient. You can’t even blame the poor man for being late, you know he works himself half to death each day. Hell he probably hasn’t even had time to glance at his watch today. You pulled a cigarette out of the pack in your saddle bag, lighting it up. You absentmindedly stroked your horse’s neck as you puffed a cloud of smoke into the cool night air.

“Thought you was quitting?”, A gruff voice from behind you interrupted your thoughts.

The sudden intrusion made you jump slightly and you quickly turned to see your cowboy walking towards you, reins in hand and the usual smirk plastered to his handsome face.

“Yeah well… maybe next week.” You grinned with a shrug, cigarette dangling out of the corner of your mouth.

Arthur approached the hitching post, tying off his horse alongside yours. “You know…”, he reached forward, pulling the cigarette from your lips and placing them between his own, “these ain’t good for ya darling.”

You couldn’t help the giggle that escaped you, and you were quick to close the gap between the two of you. You wrapped your arms around his thick torso, burying your face in his chest. “Missed you.”

Arthur’s hands snaked around your waist, one hand gently stroking your back. “I missed you too sweet heart. Sorry I was late, Marston had me running all over the county chasing some damn sheep.”

You released your grip on him, grinning at the obvious annoyance that laced his voice. “I’m scared to even ask.”

“I’ll tell ya about it over drinks, c’mon.” Arthur snuffed out the stolen cigarette and motioned towards the lively saloon. You happily made your way towards the commotion and the smell of liquor, Arthur following closely beside you.

Upon approaching the saloon doors, Arthur pushed one open and held it for you, allowing you to lead the way. The sudden turn of heads and lingering eyes from the men in the bar were not lost on him, far for it actually. Though you always seemed to either not notice or not care about the curious eyes of strangers, Arthur actually enjoyed it, he absolutely loved being seen with you.

Arthur knew you were so much more than just something pretty to hang on his arm. However, he couldn’t help but to love the feeling he got when he saw the way other men looked at the pair of you, though he’d never admit it. The way they oozed jealousy watching you dote over him, kiss on him, hell even just stand next to him, it was something he’d never experienced before. Arthur never thought there was much about himself to be proud of you. But you, you made him feel special. There was nothing he enjoyed more than to be able to boast about his claim on you. You were his and he was going to make damn sure everyone in here knew it.

Arthur placed a large rough hand upon the small of your back, keeping you close to him as he guided you towards the edge of the bar. He was quick to get the bar keeps attention, ordering you both a glass of whiskey. Arthur was happy to chatter a long with you while you both nursed your drinks. He’d barely seen you all week and was eager to catch up with his favorite girl.

Though the bar was loud, you were only focused on Arthur. The way he intently listened every time you spoke, the way he would often lean in closer just to hear you a bit better, the way his arm always found it’s way around your waist: he was perfect to you in every way. You leaned up to pepper a few kisses along his bearded jawline as he spoke. Suddenly remembering Arthur’s promise from earlier, you quickly pulled away.“Oh! Arthur the sheep! You never told me what the hell you were doing with the sheep.”

Arthur had never met anyone who took such an interest in him and his stories before. Perhaps that’s why he’s always been so taken with you, you seemed to be one of the only people in the world who wanted to know more about him.“Well, Marston had this bright idea, and that’s never a good thing…” he chuckled a little at his own joke, promoting you to roll your eyes. “He figured that we could make a pretty penny by-“

“Miss? ‘Scuse me miss!” An extremely intoxicated man stumbled his way beside you at the bar, much to close for your’s or Arthur’s liking.

“Yes?”, confused, you turned to face him. His face was red and his eyes glassy.

“Miss I-I couldn’t help but to notice you. I was just wondering if I could buy you a drink.” His words slightly slurred together and he propped one elbow up on the bar clumsily.

Still confused you glanced from the man to Arthur and back again. “I’m sorry mister but I’m spoken for.” You tried to be as polite as possible and you figured the man was just too drunk to notice you were there with Arthur.

“Spoken for by who?” The man dramatically studied the room.

You nodded up to Arthur who was standing protectively behind you, so close his chest almost pressed to your back.

“You see… that’s what I was a-suspectin’. But then I thought to myself there was jus’ no way a pretty woman like you’d be here with him.” The man leaned in a little closer to speak just to you, a devilish grin on his face.

You were quick to furrow your brow in confusion.

Arthur chuckled a bit behind you. “Alright buddy you’ve made your point. Now if ya don’t mind we’d like to enjoy the rest of our night”. Arthur did his best to keep it light hearted, but it was hard to disguise his dour tone.

The man made no indication he had heard what Arthur was saying, instead he proceeded to rake his eyes over you. “Miss… I will say, you’re even prettier up close.”

You felt Arthur’s arm around your waist tighten and his chest press into your back as he leaned slightly closer to this nuisance of a man.

“You got fuckin’ hearin’ problems or somethin’?” This time Arthur’s voice was a bit more stern and you could tell he was growing annoyed at the continuous interruption.

This time the guy glanced up at Arthur, but only for a second, for his gaze was back on you in an instant. “Look miss, you give me 5 good minutes and I’ll show you what you’re missing out on.”

Arthur pulled you behind him, positioning himself between you and the drunken bastard. “She said she was spoken for. Now are you gonna fuck off or am I gonna have to embarrass you in front of the lady?” Arthur nodded back to you.

His voice had deepened to that gravely tone he used in very few scenarios, and you found yourself growing a bit hot under the collar in response. You loved when he spoke like that, it damn near sent chills up your spine.

The man raised his hands defensively, “Alright alright… was just having some fun mister.” Deciding you weren’t worth the brawl that was sure ensure, he began to stalk off.

Arthur was quick to grab ahold of the man’s shoulder, pulling him back and glaring down at him. “You’re lucky I’m in a good mood fella. Come back over here and I will break your god damn jaw.” Arthur spoke low, attempting to shield you from his harsh words. He shoved the man on his way and turned to give his attention back to you. “Ya okay darlin?”

You heard it all, and the butterflies proceeded to flutter in your stomach. Seeing him so protective of you, it did things to you that you couldn’t explain. You nodded and turned to face the bar, attempting to hide the blush that had crept up on your face.

Arthur moved to stand behind you, arms on either side to cage you against the bar. “You sure do cause a lot of trouble y’know.” He teased, stooping to affectionally press a kiss to your temple. “Can’t take ya out nowhere.” Arthur smiled to himself. He was so proud to be a protector, and even prouder to have something as special as you to protect.

You knew Arthur was trying to be sweet, as he was always extremely sweet. However, the only thing you could think about was his deep timber voice, his willingness to fight for you, to kill for you, and of course his looming figure pressed up behind you. You tried not to dwell on the fact that there was a growing pressure between your legs, and instead pressed your glass to your lips and took a big swig. You cleared your throat awkwardly, “You uh- you still owe me a sheep story”.

#arthur morgan #arthur morgan x reader #rdr2 #arthur x reader #red dead redemption 2 #arthur morgan x female reader #red dead redemption x reader #rd2 #red dead redemption arthur

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cutedice · 1 year

Note

i could have a headcannon on the monster + ace trio with a s/o who died in the battle and when they come back in boat their kid comes up and says "where's mommy?? she said we'll be playing dolls when she comes back !!☹️"

((ooooh this one hurt. Thanks for requestin!!))

Telling Your Kid You're Gone

Characters: Warnings: Death (reader dies), angst, mentions of violence

Fem!Reader, Feminine Titles used "mama, mom, etc..."

LUFFY

- He watched it happen.

- He watched the bastard that killed you commit the crime.

- And he couldn’t do anything to stop it.

- It was devastating. Flashes of other people he loved vanishing just out of reach filled his head. Sudden grief filled his heart, and he couldn’t hold back the brutal beating the guy had coming.

- He held your dead body for a while and made sure you had a burial. He wasn’t going just to leave you. He wanted to give you a proper one at sea, something beautiful.

- He brought you back with him and Franky was quick to start setting something up while Chopper and Robin prepped you.

- He went off to do his own important task. He finds your daughter in the kitchen doodling at the table and singing.

- She does look a lot like you when he looks at her.

- She looks over, excited for a moment before she pouts. “Aw it’s just daddy,” she stuck her tongue out. “I want mommy! Where’s she?”

- Luffy chuckled, walking over and pinching her cheeks. “Am I not good enough?” he asked her, pulling as she whine in annoyance. He stopped shortly after though and crouched down. Tears were already building in his eyes. And, he’s never been subtle, but he almost wants to try for her.

- Still, he tries to speak. Once, then twice, and finally he pulls her into his arms. “I’m sorry,” he says, still smiling just a bit, “(Y/N)’s gone away. She won’t be back.”

- The girl doesn’t mind the hug, but she leans back to take Luffy’s face into her tiny hands. “Quit crying! I don’t like crying!” she exclaimed.

- “It’s okay to cry,” Luffy argued as she stretched his face in revenge for the earlier treatment. “I just miss her a lot!”

- Your daughter nods and huffs. “I miss mommy too!” she decided with another nod before she squeezed Luffy tight. “Is she really nod gonna come back? Not even to visit?”

- It broke his heart to tell her no.

ZORO

- Damn.

- He sat on the ground, covered in blood, next to your motionless body.

- You looked so peaceful and content.

- He was all for going out in battle, so the fact you died fighting until the end made him unbelievably happy in one way.

- It also left him feeling empty and lost.

- ‘More than usual?’

- He could imagine you saying something like that, and it almost made him laugh.

- He cried a handful of times in his life, and he swore he wouldn’t ever again after the fight with Mihawk. But tears just kept falling against his will.

- So, he sat. Silently crying and deeply wounded.

- He eventually called the others with him over once the tears had finished and his aching heart settled for the time. They helped him give you a proper burial, something quick, but it meant a lot to him.

- Once he returned to the ship, he headed for the library in search of his daughter. Robin was left in charge, and he figured that’d be his best bet in locating her.

- He asked Robin to leave, which she did after a moment, patting Zoro on the shoulder before she gave them privacy.

- “Dad?” your daughter asked, looking at him curiously.

- “Hey,” he greeted, walking over and patting her head before he sat down with a small sigh. “I’ve got some news.”

- He told her honestly what happened, sugarcoating a few things, but he let her know about you and your brave sacrifice. And he was there for her as she cried into him.

- If anything, he was happy she was still alive. He would give anything to keep her from experiencing that loss again, as she became his world as they lost you.

SANJI

- “(Y/N)!”

- He screamed your name. He watched the sword go through you in complete terror.

- It all happened so fast, yet so slowly. The battlefield felt frozen at the moment.

- He moved fast, kicking the man away that dared to hurt you. No one even saw where he went. For all they knew, Sanji kicked him hard enough to make him disappear.

- That didn’t matter to the cook, though, not when he cradled your face in his hands and tried to get Chopper or anyone to help.

- But it was ultimately too late. You passed in moments, whispering your last words before going limp.

- He was so full of grief immediately. The battle continued behind him while he mourned before he got up to help finish. And, when it was all done, the strawhats around helped put you to rest before they escorted Sanji back to the ship.

- He didn’t blame you or anyone on board, though he wanted to push it somewhere. He blamed himself in that steed, for being too slow, for not being strong enough. He blamed the stupid murderer as well and the gull of him harming you.

- He dismissed himself from the group once they returned to the Sunny, and he quickly ran off to locate his daughter.

- He found her in the men’s cabin with Brook, the two playing dolls together. Brook could recognize the aura surrounding the chef, so he left the two alone.

- “Papa! Are you and Mama gonna play with me now?” she asked, holding up a doll towards him.

- Sanji had to fight back tears, leaning down to brush her hair out of her face before cradling it much as he did yours. “No bugs. Mama won’t be able to play.”

- He carefully broke the news to her, holding her tightly as she cried into him. He cried with her, soothing her to the best of his abilities as well.

- “It’ll be okay. I’m here, I’m here…”

ACE

- Needless to say, he was not okay when it happened. Not in the least.

- He already struggled daily with his own worth, but losing one of the only people who made him feel worth loving hit him hard.

- The whitebeards were big on getting back at those who hurt their family, and given the fact you were not only his partner but the mother of his child, he was going to murder whoever dared hurt you personally.

- His flames were hotter than ever, and the battle was over in minutes. He was left for a minute, cold despite the heat and afraid of heading back to the ship without you. But he did. He forced himself to walk to the ship and board.

- He felt like time was slow, and his reactions were late. He also felt suddenly as though he were a burden, like a curse that wasn’t worth living.

- That was until he felt a hand tug on his. He looked down, and for a moment, he saw you. But then he noticed freckles and curious eyes, and he smiled tiredly. “Hey, Sweety.”

- “Pops said you were sad!” she declared, and she had this determined tone in her voice that ace would typically adore, but now he was just too beat to acknowledge it with anything but a sad hum. Which ultimately confirmed her suspicion.

- She reached up, and Ace lifted her without complaint. She leaned in to wrap her arms around his neck, hugging him. “They said Mama’s gone,” she mumbled. “Is she really?”

- Ace’s breath hitched. She was clever, and he knew she could handle the truth, but that fact also hurt him in a way. He put a hand on the back of her head, gently patting her. “Yes… Yeah, it’s true,” he admitted quietly. “I’m sorry,” he choked out, trying to hold back a sob.

- But, to his surprise, she pulled back. And, with the strength of a child raised by pirates, she squeezed his face and looked at him sternly through her own tears. “Mama was strong! We gotta be strong for Mama,” she nodded and patted his cheeks. “Okay? Strong for Mama!”

- Ace stared at her, his tears falling, and he smiled a bit. “Right. We’ve gotta be strong for her.”

- It wasn’t much, but at that moment, he decided he’d live for her. He was sure that you’d want that for him, and he grieved hard, and sometimes it was… terrible. But, he kept going for her.

#tw death #cw death #monkey d. luffy #luffy x reader #roronoa zoro #zoro x reader #black leg sanji #sanji x reader #portgas d ace #ace x reader #op x reader #one piece x reader #one piece #x reader headcanons

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sun-and-moon-mushroom · 3 months

Text

Scum Villain Plot Bunny: Soulmate AU

AO3 link

AU premise: Found here

The first thing Shen Yuan — now Shen Qingqiu — does when he’s left alone after transmigrating is pull open the robes over his chest and look down at the skin where his soulmark is meant to be. It’s still there, thankfully, a thin branch decorated with open plum blossom flowers. He supposed it wouldn’t have been too strange for it to change — after all, the soulmark that the original Shen Qingqiu was written as having had been oddly similar, just with closed buds instead.

The colour of the petals was still vivid under his fingers, despite some odd discolouration around the edges, a bright and vibrant red, rather than faded by the inevitable snapping of a soulmate bond with the death of one member. It made him wonder…

“System, do I have a soulmate here?”

[Shen Qingqiu is soulbound to Protagonist Luo Binghe]

“I know that already!” he complained. He’d read the book — Proud Immortal Demon Way — and as bad as the story had gotten over time, how could he forget one of the most pivotal moments of the plot, the one that had resulted in a sudden surge of popularity… as well as complaints from readers about the story heading into danmei territory after it was revealed that the awful scum villain shizun of the protagonist was his soulmate all along! (Although Shen Yuan could admit that the influx of fanartists that shipped the pair had helped the popularity of the novel grow… he even had a few of their works as posters decorating his apartment and as wallpapers for his laptop).

Airplane-Shooting-Towards-the-Sky had been quick to assure his loyal readers that he was still writing a stallion novel — the twist was based on stories of soulmates with fates bound not by love, but by hatred, great rivalries and sworn enemies. Of course, the hack of an author had quickly abandoned his premise in favour of adding more wives to the harem, with the character that could have been Luo Binghe’s greatest enemy taken down in a trial of all things! No dramatic final confrontation, no sudden plot twists or hidden schemes, it was like the villain had forgotten the role he was meant to play, not even trying to escape from his prison! Shen Yuan demanded a refund! Imagine if Sephiroth had been arrested halfway through the game, or Darth Vader was fired after a poor performance review! It completely destroyed any sense of tension the story had, with every future villain only showing up to be immediately defeated by Luo Binghe.

He asked the System about his soulmate again and it replied the same way.

[Shen Qingqiu is soulbound to Protagonist Luo Binghe]

His scathing literary critique aside, Shen Yuan was stuck living the life of Shen Qingqiu, and now it seemed he’d taken on his soulmate bond with Luo Binghe as part of that. This presented a problem — as much as he wanted to help the protagonist, the System had made it very clear that any deviation from the way Shen Qingqiu usually acted would be punished. Unfortunately for him, this included the fact that Shen Qingqiu refused to make any physical contact with Luo Binghe, not even to hurt him — because that would solidify the bond between them, something the original was, for some reason, completely opposed to, despite the side effects. The very side effects that the current Shen Qingqiu was currently experiencing now, due to the battered-looking young boy bowing before him.

Shen Yuan had never felt his soulmark burn before. For most of his life, he’d assumed he’d be like most people, and only experience it later in life, if he got that far (the average age to meet your soulmate was 37 after all). It hurt, more than he expected it to, but it was a dull and constant pain of the sort he was used to ignoring. He could see Luo Binghe wince before him at the feeling, and felt pity for him. At this point in the story, Luo Binghe didn’t even realise that he had a soulmate, his soulmark sealed away with his demonic heritage at birth. To him, he only felt an unexplained pain in his chest whenever he met Shen Qingqiu, something he attributed in the earlier chapters to guilt at not meeting his expectations, and in the later ones, before the Immortal Alliance Conference and the reveal of the truth, to a burning hatred.

Shen Qingqiu could only sigh internally in relief — it seemed he was early enough in the story that it was still the first. He still had time, still had a chance, to save his own skin and make it out of Airplane’s trainwreck of a story alive, and with all his limbs attached. All he had to do was convince the protagonist to like him… without ever revealing that he was really his soulmate.

#svsss #svsss au #shen qingqiu #luo binghe #soulmate au #bingqiu #my writing #svsss fanfiction

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geekywritings · 1 year

Text

“I didn’t expect you.”

You didn’t think I was done with Cal x reader fluff, did you?

Cal and reader have been traveling together for quite a while, but Cal struggles to sort his feelings. Until now.

____________________

The only life Cal Kestis had known for the longest time was the one dictated by the Jedi Order. His entire path in life had appeared so certain back then. Training at the Temple, further learning as a Padawan, the trials and finally serving as a Jedi Knight in his own right before taking on his own apprentice.

Only half of that had come to fruition. Long before he even started thinking about the trials, everything he had ever known was burned to ashes. His past, his present and his future.

He had to forge a new one for himself. Something, the temple had never prepared him for…

Lost, in hiding and scared, the young survivor had to learn the hard way how many lessons he had been missing. How little the Jedi life was connected to that of normal individuals in the galaxy.

He had managed somehow, making the best of his dire situation and finding ways to stay alive and out of sight. Unfortunately, this wasn’t any way to live. Not for a Jedi. Not for someone like Cal, with his strong sense of justice and desperate need for a purpose in life.

Cere and Greeze had been lifesavers in more ways than one. They had saved him from certain death at the hands of Trilla, but also from a far more painful and slow decay of his spirit.

He was fighting again, to rebuild the order, to protect innocents and to destroy the Empire. And with each fight and every ally he won, Cal’s confidence grew. He had begun learning new lessons, taking him further and further away from the Order and every rule he had ever lived by.

And then you had appeared, while he was on an errand run for Greeze on a small, desolate moon in the Outer-Rim.

You had literally dropped from the sky, right into his arms, the Jedi catching you purely on instinct. What a vision you had been! Dressed in a light blue dress, your hair braided and adorned with little trinkets that matched your necklace, earrings and bracelets.

He hadn’t realized it at that moment, but you had been a bride on the run.

“Help me.”

The first words you had ever spoken to him, as the calls of your family members and destined groom boomed from the building above.

“Please.”

All Cal had been able to do was nod, placing your feet on the ground and grabbing your hand instead, as he navigated you through the crowd and back to the Mantis. No questions asked, he had simply offered the help you had asked for.

That had been three or four years ago, and all memory of the forced marriage had already paled in your memory. Instead, your mind was mostly filled with thoughts of him. Your saviour. Your friend. Your comrade on the battlefield. The man you had grown to care for.

What you didn’t know: Cal’s thoughts also hadn’t stopped gravitating around you since that day.

From your sudden first appearance until now, you kept surprising him at every turn. You turned out to be an excellent fighter, using a staff almost as confidently as he wielded his lightsaber. You also shared his interest in tinkering, constantly finding ways to improve or fix something around the Mantis. What was most surprising was your personality, however: So positive, so joyful, so full of energy.

The Jedi could be having the worst of days, but one smile or joke from you and he’d find his mood lifting. One touch from your hand and he was willing to face Vader himself. Cal was feeling things around you he had never experienced before… and he knew right away that this was the thing the Jedi Temple had forbidden. This kind of all-consuming attachment, undying loyalty and sheer attraction would have him drop everything for you in a heartbeat. And it didn’t even feel wrong.

Recently, it had started to weigh on his mind more and more, as he found it increasingly difficult to push his feelings down. He cared for you. Loved you. Desired you.

Theoretically, there was nothing that stopped him from just giving in… apart from that tiny voice in the back of his mind, resembling that of his Master far too much. It reminded him of the Code, the vow he had made to follow it, to always be a good student and never disappoint his teacher.

“Look what I found!”, your happy voice tore him right out of another round of debating with his conscience and he turned to look at your beaming smile as you held up some spare part he couldn’t identify at first glance.

“You said you wanted an upgrade for BD, so he could protect himself more.”, you clarified. “It’s a tiny electro shocker. I didn’t even know they came that small.” The excitement was radiating from you like the sun, and Cal found it impossible not to smile at least a little, as he took the part from you for a closer look.

“That’s great.”, he said, but the tone in his voice had your joy falter.

“What’s wrong?”, you asked.

“Nothing…. Just thinking.”, he replied, unable to lie to you.

“What about?” You could be incredibly pushy and persistent and Cal contemplated whether he could talk himself out of this one. In the end, he concluded that he could not.

“About the Jedi Order. The code and… how I can still honor it.”

While he spoke, you had hopped onto the table he was sitting at, staring at him with a serious expression. You had known little about Jedi before meeting Cal and even now, your understanding of them felt patchy. Mostly, because you found yourself disagreeing with a lot of the things Cal had told you about.

“You are honoring it by continuing to fight what the Order stood for.”, you eventually shared your honest thoughts with him. “Peace. Balance. Justice.” Those were the things you did respect about the fallen order.

“But times have changed. The rules have changed, if you want to compare it to a game.”, you eventually continued when Cal didn’t say anything. “You adapted to stay alive while staying true to yourself. That is commendable.”

How were you so good at this, he wondered. How were you so capable of taking his doubts and worries, picking them apart with just the right words?

Green eyes were staring at you as you argued about some of the Jedi rules being outdated and impossible to follow anyway.

“We are humans, you and I. We are meant to feel sad, happy, jealous, excited, joyous and all the other things.”, you concluded with a firm nod. “If we lock it all away, are we even really alive then?”

Coming from someone, who wore their heart on their sleeve, it was probably true. You were driven by emotion in almost all you did and so far, you had never regretted it.

Cal’s expression had changed during your talk, his shoulders relaxing and his lips twitching back into a smile. Ultimately, he even chuckled.

“I wasn’t joking!”, you said, lightly punching his shoulder.

“I’m not laughing at you.”, he assured you, catching your hand before you could land a second punch and holding it in his. “I’m just thinking how much you surprise me every day.”

Your confused blinking invited him to elaborate.

“I should see it coming by now, but I never do… I didn’t expect it. I didn’t expect you.”

His thumb was now gently stroking over your skin, keeping a hold of your hand in his.

“I always thought I’d be walking the Jedi path. Even after the Order disappeared… I wanted to force that path back into existence… And then you showed up… and everything changed.”

He took a deep breath, eyes wandering from your joined hands to your face. Why had he hesitated for so long? Why had he kept his feelings bottled in? The old path was gone and no amount of fighting would bring it back. But he could walk a new one. With you.

“I think it’s time for me to take my life into my own hands… find my own destiny. Unrelated to the Order.” Still, he was dancing around it and although you knew what he was probably trying to get to, you didn't try and help him right away.

“I want to build a new life. With you.”, he finally said. “I wanted to for quite some time, but…”

You didn’t let him finish. Instead, you leaned down, capturing his lips with yours in a kiss you had been dying to give for months. Cal was so stunned, he couldn’t even return the gesture.

Slowly, you pulled away with a smile. “You are horrible at confessions, Cal.”, you told him. Your entire body was tingling pleasantly, your belly hot and your heart swelling with so much joy, it felt as if it would burst any second

“I love you too, you overthinking Jedi.”, you said, having no qualms about saying the words he had trouble finding.

Your own confession worked like a stim to Cal’s system and instantly he was up on his feet, standing before you and leaning in to kiss you. Whatever hesitation had been there before was gone all of a sudden, as his hands wove into your hair, keeping you locked to him as the kiss grew deeper.

You weren’t holding back either, giving in to every bit of passion you felt at that moment.

“If we get married, I hope you won’t jump out of the window like you did when we met, though.”, he spoke after you broke apart.

“Bad confession followed by a bad marriage proposal? We will have to work on that, Cal.”, you teased back and he chuckled before kissing you again. He would learn. He was ready for new things. As long as they were with you.

#cal kestis #cal kestis x yn #cal kestis x you #cal kestis x reader #jedi survivor

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bypandoramaxum · 1 year

Text

journey through the reefs [an atwow series] chp. 1

summary: after the sudden death of your parents, your life soon turned upside down as the RDA took drastic measures to advance their colonisation of Pandora, which led to you being used as their guinea pig in their sick games.

[next]

pairings: ao’nung [25] x fem!human!reader [20]

word count: 3.4k

warnings: depictions of death of parents, swearing, abduction, restraints, manipulation, coercion, human experimentation, surgery, reader wanting out and everyone else being a dick to her.

a/n: it’s been so long since I last wrote a fanfic, let alone a series. I’m feeling confident about this one, as the ideas keep flowing in my brain. hope you’ll enjoy this first chapter!~

»»————-　.　————-««

It was almost as if the universe itself was mourning with you, conveying the deep sorrow that had longed settled within your weary heart through heavy raindrops against the windowpanes as you watched the two cardboard caskets that laid both your parents were slowly being transferred into the crematoriums for a final send off.

This was not the goodbye you expected to bid to the two most prominent figures of your measly life. It was almost too sudden, too hasty, unbelievable really. Your tearful gaze numbingly watched as the doors of the crematoriums slammed shut, but still leaving an opening for you to witness the golden flames erupting around the caskets, which oddly helped in allowing you to process and acknowledge the gravity of the reality you were experiencing.

A vast array of emotions swarmed you intensely, trying to overtake each other, making your head spin in the process, not knowing which one to feel.

But one thing was for certain.

Loneliness.

Never again would you hear your mother knocking on your bedroom door before entering, telling you good morning in that gentle, soothing, hush voice of hers, paired with the soft strokes of her hand against the flow of your hair.

The sounds of sips coming from your father drinking his morning cup of tea would soon become a distant memory soon. His usual question of how you slept last night can only be heard within the confines of your recollection.

The day ended with you being escorted out of the crematorium by your parents’ scientist colleagues, who, for the record, did not seem too upset by the events that played out for the day. It almost seemed as if the whole funeral was just another tedious task that had to be carried out before they could move on to their next one at hand. Well, it wasn’t like that wasn’t obvious, considering they couldn’t even get proper coffins to lay your parents to rest, as if common decency was a thing of the past.

Truthfully, no one really held proper funerals anymore, not in this current millennium at least. With the Earth flooded with overpopulation, people are dying at a larger and faster rate. Something quick had to be done to make room for others more.

“Well, let’s get back to business, shall we? We’ve stalled long enough, thanks to the cry-baby over here.” a man huffed as he straightened his lab coat, ready to get back to work.

Dr. Kurtis Aragon. The man who had your parents serve as his apprentices, unfortunately. You had overheard countless stories of him from them, mostly of how he had no problem blatantly mistreating his staff into obeying his every order, no matter how detriment the consequences might be of said actions, as it was either his way or the highway.

His views of the surrounding world were black and white, leaving no room for doubt. He truly believed his words held gravity compared to the opinions of those around him, and he made sure people knew their places in the lab.

“Since your folks have proved themselves to be fairly incompetent in their roles, I have no choice but to have you continue their work for me.”

“After all, you are the offspring of two rather gifted individuals despite what happened. I’m sure you won’t disappoint me too quickly like they did.” he added.

You could feel your blood boiling, face flushing with anger. Begrudgingly, you held back and replied,

“Since when was it decided that I’ve signed up for any of this?”

“Since your parents signed a legal contract stating that if anything were to happen to them, guardianship of you shall be transferred over to me.” said Dr. Aragon as he pulled out an envelope from his lab coat, handing it to you.

You snatched it from him, tearing the envelope urgently and began reading through the contract. Fresh tears started brimming at your eyes as you read the terms and conditions of said contract. There was no way. Your parents wouldn’t have entrusted your well-being to this man, knowing how much misery he brought to them.

“This is all bullshit! There’s no way they agreed to this. You must’ve threatened them into signing it.” you yelled as the tears ran down your cheeks, balling up the contract before chucking it to the ground. “I don’t care what this contract says. I rather be dead than work for you or your sick cause.”

“Now, it’s not up to you, now is it, little girl? Doesn’t matter whether they agreed to it or not, what’s done is done. With their signature sealing the deal, I have the willpower to do what I wish with you. You possess great qualities and potential for the RDA’s future, and I plan on fully utilising it.” Dr. Aragon paid no heed to your outburst, lighting a cigarette as he spoke.

“Looks like we’re going to have to do this the hard way, little one. Boys, you know the drill.” Dr. Aragon mumbled before gesturing to his men.

“To hell with the RDA! You all are the reason why my folks are dead in the first place, and now you’re looking for your next guinea pig to continue the colonisation of that beautiful moon. Well, count me out! Screw you all.” you declared before storming off into the heavy rain, allowing it to wet the black dress you wore.

“Yes, sir.” they obeyed before marching to you, surrounding you.

“Move, assholes!” you yelled as you tried to push through them to no avail.

“Listen, you are coming with us whether you like it or not.” said one of the men cladded in military gear.

“I don’t have to do jack shit for anyone. You can’t make m-“ your rage was cut short when you felt volts of electricity surge through your being, making you fall to the ground before knocking you unconscious.

The men wasted no time in restraining you and throwing your drenched, sleeping body into the readied vehicle, waiting to bring you to God knows where. Dr. Aragon just stood there, watching the whole thing unfold with a smug smirk on his face, simultaneously taking puffs from his cigarette.

“Seems like she’s going to be a handful, huh?” one of the scientist next to him uttered.

“She’ll learn to comply soon enough. We just need to give her the right push, that’s all.” Dr. Aragon replied as he took one last puff of smoke before throwing the cigarette to the ground, stepping on it to put out the flames.

“I’ve got one good trick up my sleeve that’ll surely get her to obey.”

“And just what might that be?”

“We’ll have to get her to Pandora first. While she’s in cryo-sleep, we shall get everything ready to perform Operation: Lab Rat. Our next project will be targeting the reef clans.”

Dr. Aragon let out a wicked chuckle, almost as if understanding where this plan was going.

“I knew I could count on my best student.”

»»————-　.　————-««

Five years later…

Waking up had never felt so draining before. Sure, a little sleepy and drowsy, perhaps an urge to fall back asleep just to bask in a few more minutes of comfort, but this time, it came with a throbbing headache. You tried your best to fall back asleep, in hopes to be rid of it, but you found your attempts futile.

Looking around, blue light surrounded the little space you were in. Your body was strapped in by safety belts, and you could feel yourself floating slightly. It didn’t take long for the panic to start setting in, as your hands started wandering, looking for any possible escape from wherever you were in.

All of a sudden, you feel yourself being ejected from the claustrophobic confinement, white light shining directly onto you. As you looked around, you were met with a figure floating in front of you, cladded in medical wear.

“Rise and shine, sleeping beauty.” the man said, in an attempt to joke lightly.

“Where am I?” you asked hesitantly, fearing the possible answers.

“We’re on our way to Pandora. Almost there, in fact.” he replied, patting your shoulder comfortingly.

His words stunned you, eyes widened in true shock. You looked around you to see others being ejected from their sleep capsules, unbuckling themselves from the safety restraints, which prompted you to do the same.

If what that man said was true, then that could only mean…

No, there was no way. This had to be a nightmare. All you had to do was close your eyes again and fall back asleep. You would be right back in your childhood bedroom in no time.

“I need everyone’s attention! It has been 5 years, 7 months, and 13 days since departure. You will feel hungry and weak to the bones. Please rehydrate yourself immediately with the water bottles in your lockers.” one of the staff announced to the room.

The look of dread on your face was no secret at this point. You didn’t care to hide your worries and panic anymore as your frantic outburst alerted everyone in the shared space, startling many of them.

It took a group of five men holding you to get you under control. That didn’t stop you from voicing your thoughts out loud, making sure your problem was now everyone else’s as well.

“Let me go! Take me home! Get me out of here! I’ll send you all to hell myself if it’s the last thing I’ll ever do.” you screamed at the top of your lungs, empty threats being thrown around, mostly directed to the men restraining you.

“Sedate her immediately!” Dr. Aragon called out to the men; frustration painted his expression. “Can’t have this little bitch causing a goddamn ruckus on my ship.”

“You! You’ll be first on my hit list, motherfucker! Be glad they’re holding me back, ‘cause once I get the chance, you’ll be begging me for mer-“

You felt something sharp pierce your arm, halting your verbal assault. You tried fighting against the drowsiness, but it soon overtook you easily as you succumbed to the effects of the sedation, putting you to sleep once more.

The men were then instructed to bring you to a holding cell while the scientists bunch had an impromptu meeting together, with Dr. Aragon fuming.

“What did I say about waking her up with the other crew members? Do you imbeciles just not listen to anything I say? Her antics could’ve costed us our only chance at getting the operation running smoothly.” Dr. Aragon lectured his team sternly, his being shaking from anger.

“We are terribly sorry, sir. It seems there was an error in communication with the medical team. We’ll ensure nothing of sort will occur again.” Thomas answered apologetically, gesturing to his fellow colleagues to do the same.

“I expect better from all of you, especially you, Thomas. You’ve been with me the longest so far and this is the work being presented to me?”

“It was never my intention to disappoint you at all, sir. All I want is to provide a better life for all of humanity and serve the RDA. Please, allow me to prove it to you, and I’ll be sure to give my very best to our current cause.”

The glare that Dr. Aragon was giving Thomas was deeply unsettling. It didn’t allow him to read through his boss’ emotions at all. He couldn’t predict what his answer could be towards his pathetic plea of proving himself worthy in the eyes of the RDA. Despite that, his eye contact never faltered, hoping his determination will overshadow his nervousness.

“Once we land, notify the sterile team to have a room prepared immediately. I don’t wish to delay Operation: Lab Rat any longer. The medical team better be ready to get their hands dirty.” Dr. Aragon broke the uncomfortable silence before leaving his team.

“Yes, sir!” everyone shouted in unison, scampering to get ready for landing.

»»————-　.　————-««

The shuttle soon landed on the far east of Pandora, nearby a fleet of ships that were waiting, ready to transport the newcomers to the outskirts of Pandoran reefs. Neighbouring the Metkayina and Ta’unui clans, but still hidden enough to not alarm any of the natives. Stealth was required to ensure the colonisation of the area ran smoothly.

Soldiers geared up marched into their respective troops, the sound of combat boots synchronising. Dr. Aragon and his team were escorted onto one of the ships, with the medical team behind them pushing your once again unconscious self, secured on a stretcher with an oxygen mask. Once everyone boarded, the ship set sail and the journey to the nearby RDA base began.

“Let’s not waste any more time than we already have! Medical and sterile, gear up and get to work!” Dr. Aragon instructed with a stern tone.

“Yes, sir!” his team responded as they directed your stretcher to one of the readied surgical rooms.

»»————-　.　————-««

Doctors and nurses were busy prepping your body for the experimental procedure, while at the same time sick with worry, but not for you, however. Knowing that any failure on this would end up with someone within the base being the next test subject. The unspoken dread seems to spread all across the room as it was dead silent other than the sound of surgical tools clanking against each other.

“Jesus, just thinking about what could happen if we fuck this up again makes me want to throw up.” one of the nurses whispered.

“Well, gee, you sure know how to set the mood, huh?” another nurse replied sarcastically.

“You’re really not worried one bit? We’ve been at this for God knows how many times, and there’s not been one success case in our books.”

“Of course, I’m worried, goddamnit! I’m just trying not to think about it at the moment. So do me a favour and shut your trap!”

“How about we stop all this bickering and focus on the task at hand? It’s best not to anger the big boss of the ship.” the head nurse, Tori, intervened before a bigger argument could set off.

A few minutes had passed before Dr. Aragon entered the room, cladded in a surgical suit. Everyone stood frozen in their spots, awaiting their next order to be given.

Dr. Aragon strode over to the surgical bed, giving the marking drawn onto your sternum and just below the diaphragm a quick study before picking up a scalpel that was laid on a tray.

“Your sacrifice shall not go unsung, kid.” he said before gesturing to his team to follow his lead.

»»————-　.　————-««

Twelve hours later…

Most of the staff collapsed onto the cold vinyl flooring of the room, some of them shedding tears after a long, torturous procedure on you. The ones left standing were finishing up the stitches from your successful surgery. In fact, you were their very first and only success case ever since the RDA deemed the avatar program too expensive to continue and started their lengthy and experimental respiratory enhancing surgery on countless unwilling participants, with the hope that these test subjects can breathe Pandoran air with no need for an oxygen mask. None of them ever saw the light of day again.

Except for you.

Little did you know that this was just the beginning of your brand new existence. Your current purpose was to serve and be loyal to the RDA, and that sooner or later, you would learn to obey and do as you were told.

»»————-　.　————-««

Two weeks later…

As your eyes struggled to open, you were forced to shut them again as a bright white shine blinded your vision for a moment. Once your eyes have adjusted to the light, you looked around your surroundings to find that you were in a well-conditioned room. The softness and comfort that you felt yourself lying on signalled to you were most likely in the hospital. Have you been rescued from the RDA? Were you back on Earth? Or was all of it just a bad dream and all of that never even happened?

You were about to relish in sweet relief, only for it to be cut short when you went to raise your arm to rub the sleep from your eyes, but it was stopped short by a handcuff that was linking your wrist to the metal bed frame. You looked over to your other arm to find that it was cuffed as well.

The violent clunking that you caused had alerted a group of nurses as they rushed into the room to calm you down.

“Now, dear, I know you must be confused and terrified, but you must calm down.” one of the nurses reassured.

“Where am I? Why am I here? What have you people done to me? ANSWER ME!” you cried out angrily, continuing your struggle.

“Call the doctor in! NOW!” the head nurse ordered.

The room stared in awe and shock as Dr. Aragon walked into the room. Next to him, stood an almost ten foot tall avatar wearing a green tank top and camo cargo pants. Your eyes were immediately drawn to the figure next to the doctor, the fear and anxiety evident in your eyes.

“So, this one here was a success, huh?” the avatar voiced out while staring down at you menacingly.

“She is the first one. But not to worry, as I do plan to continue producing more test subjects.” Dr. Aragon responded. “Sooner or later, humans shall be taking over this moon without needing the aid of these dumb masks.”

The avatar chuckled at that statement before striding over to you, kneeling down to speak to you directly.

“I’m Colonel Quaritch, commander of the first Recom Squad. Just thought you should know the face of the person you’ll be taking orders from.”

“And why would I be taking any orders from the likes of you?” you spat while grimacing at the colonel.

Quaritch lips pulled into a smirk, as if he was expecting this sort of response from you. He then gestured to the other humans in the room.

“Take a good look at every single one of them. All masked up.”

You looked around the room, scanning every human face in there. They were all, in fact, masked up. You however…

…could breathe with ease.

“H… How?” you stuttered.

“Let’s just say we gave your respiratory system a bit of an… upgrade, so to speak.” Quaritch replied nonchalantly. “Financing the avatar program is getting a little too hefty for our budget, so we needed a more affordable project to continue our operation.”

All of this was getting too much for you. The stress of everything that had happened finally took a toll on your poor soul. Tears started flowing down your rosy cheeks as you sobbed pathetically in front of your audience. Everything that has happened up to this point had sealed your fate forever.

You would never see Earth again.

You would never be able to sit at your parents’ graves for a chat.

Your education could never advance.

You would never experience another day of normalcy in your pitiful existence.

“Why are you doing this? Why me? What have I done to deserve this? Please, just let me go. I promise I won’t tell anyone about this. Let me go home, please.” you begged sorrowfully, any ounce of dignity thrown away at this point.

“I’m afraid we can’t do that, sweetheart.” Quaritch responded, moving to sit at the foot of the bed.

“You’re the first one to ever survive this dangerous and risky procedure. Your value here is far too important for us to just let you go. With your help, you’ll be giving mankind another chance at a better life. Treat this as a fresh start for yourself.”

You knew there was no backing out from this situation in anyway, shape and form. Your only choices on the table were to either die, possibly painfully, or follow the lead of the RDA. You weren’t exactly thrilled to be alive at this point, but entertaining the idea of death so soon wasn’t something you were up for either.

But maybe you could get yourself out of this, the only thing you needed was patience and hope, and you prayed that you would be able to stay loyal to those traits.

You allowed yourself to relax back onto the bed before turning to face Quaritch, looking him dead in the eyes.

“So, where do I start, Colonel?”

»»————-　.　————-««

a/n: that’s the end of chapter one! let me know what you think and stick around for chapter two.

like and reblog if you enjoyed!~