thinking ab my og (plural) once again and feeling genuinely sick to my stomach at how baby saeran liked photography and ice cream and ray likes flowers and gardening and unknown likes the sky and saeray likes all of the above and tbh i dont even remember which of his interests were canon or fanon anymore lol but out of all of them he's the one who's had the most autonomy and control over his life to explore and develop interests but suit. my love suit. he doesn't have anything. he never really thinks about what he wants or what he likes because every time he's fronting it's to protect ray from the horrors and so even though he shows a talent for fashion (only one in the system who knows how to dress like, canonically) and baking and a bunch of arts and crafts he never allows himself to consider his own personhood at all and i mean saeray is him and ray integrated/fused together idk what the right wording would be but the point is saeray is technically still him and he's now getting to do all those things and experience joy and healings and i love that for him/them but i can't help but wish he'd gotten to experience those things before and since i was 14 and to this day i still feel personally affronted by the fact that we don't get the option to hug him the last time we see him before that happens and oughhhhhhhhhhhhhhh pain agony suffering i miss him
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no es pregunta, lo sabe. tampoco un pedido, no necesita nada con urgencia. siquiera un favor, ella no estaba en posición de reclamar nada del mayor. apenas cruza la mirada con el rubio, un escalofrío familiar cruza su espina dorsal. el tenue suspiro le recuerda que debe respirar. la palabra es una, la orden ha sido dada y no puede concebir la idea de negarse, escaparse. lo alcanza buscando la mirada de alguien con quien pudiera avisar que estaba yéndose con saeran, de no volver sería el inicial sospechoso. aún así nadie la veía, entendía que era la víctima más fácil gracias a que nadie solía prestarle atención. detiene el paso, chocando contra anatomía masculina "auch" dice en un susurro y levanta la mirada al mayor "¿qué o-ocurre, saeran?" dice en la consciencia de su propia fragilidad, la merced de una deuda que pesaba por su propio final positivo para la víctima. ella sabía perfectamente lo que quería, y eso le daba aún más miedo.
“Qué desdicha, se me ha acabado la bebida” @nsaercn
“aish, saeran” sacude la cabeza observando al rubio a causa del comentario, la atención va directo al vaso vacío y le presta una sonrisa “¿para que estamos los amigos sino?” amplia es la sonrisa de cruzarse con su, autodenominado, amigo para al menos pasar el rato. estaba cerca donde estaba su hermana, podía sentirlo como una ayuda de destino a saber que era difícil por momentos contactarlo, ni en el club de duelo se lo cruzaba después de haberlo visto un día. se acerca a una de las mesas, se sostiene del hombro de su hermana, con tal de molestarla y mueve la varita para levitar dos vasos. los carga hasta de nuevo regresar con saeran “ten, supuse que era lo que estabas tomando ¿me equivoqué?” los baja a sus manos y extiende uno.
a/n: is that what that day is called? i dunno. my first instinct when i was watching story mode.
11/18/2022 edit: don't mind me; just reformatting.
summary: day 4, when v tries to convince you to leave with him. saeran x f!reader.
cw: f!reader, she/her pronouns. angst.
wc: 719.
V takes a step forward — “Please, can’t you listen to me?” — and then Ray is reeling back — “Get away! Get away!”
Despite his panic and desperation, Ray throws his arm out in front of you, keeping you behind him and away from V. “Don’t you dare touch [Name]!”
Even as his breathing grows ragged, his face becoming paler with every gasping air, he is trying to protect you. You watch his back tremble and hunch; his body looks as though it is trying to curl into itself and hide from whatever memories V brings with him.
V takes another step forward, and now Ray’s shouts have become frenzied begging — “Please, please go away — ” and you feel that this web spans years, threading insects and poisons and nightmares with every silky curve and twirl, and you aren’t sure where to begin to uncover it and how to unravel him from this cocoon.
He stumbles as V shows him two little cards. Ray drops his arm to grasp the limb, pained, stammering about an angry savior. His voice rises and cracks, and you see it again, the reason why you had decided to stay: there is a gaping, cracking chasm in him, jagged along the edges as if some great devil had slipped their fingers between his chest and pulled him open by the ribs; and with this blackened maw trying to swallow him, he had never once asked you for help —
— But you have seen your fair share of blackened maws.
You have seen fissures greater than canyons, than planets, yawning cavities that have devoured entire universes.
You have your own memories of drowning in ravines, hands reaching up at the night sky, starless.
You know that sometimes it is a silent plea.
“I’m so sorry things turned out like this, Saeran,” V whispers. He looks to you then. “But [Name], I came to rescue you. I infiltrated this place after determining that you were in danger.”
“No —!” Ray grasps his head. “Don’t – don’t believe anything he says, [Name]. I can protect her — I’m protecting her.”
Ray is unsteady on his feet; you touch his shoulders, but he flinches reflexively, and when he sees that it was just your hands, he grasps your wrist.
“[Name],” V begins.
“Save him,” you say. “If you’re here for me, then you should be here for him, too.”
V hesitates. “I... It’s my fault,” he says. “It’s my fault, but...but I can’t — I don’t think I can pull him from her grasp right now...”
V looks pained, too, when he says that, and then you see that he has the same gasping maw in him, the same jagged lines where caressing fingers had turned cruel.
Ray’s grip on your wrist tightens. You had stepped in front of him, but he tries to tug you back, fear in his hands.
“She doesn’t believe you,” Ray snarls half-heartedly, but you see the doubt and the dread — Don’t go — Please don’t — Please don’t leave me.
“I think you should go, V,” you say.
V looks like he wants to say more, to try and convince you, to save at least one soul, but there are voices shouting from across the garden, and he hesitates, now stuck against the hourglass.
“Go,” you tell him kindly. “I’ve dealt with spiders before.”
“She’s not — ” But the words get caught in his throat. You see old webs in his hair, glistening against the glow of the garden lights. He nods finally and then turns and disappears into the trees.
Ray is trying to calm his breathing, his hand still gripping firmly around your wrist. You reach back and pry his hold from your skin, and before he can jerk back in fear and self-doubt, you switch the grasp to your hand, showing him how other people should be touched — gently, and with sincerity.
“Sorry,” he mumbles, eyes still darting at the growing darkness around the two of you, at the shadows that shift and slide in the unknown.
You never liked the thought of putting broken pieces back together. The cracks would still be there, pieces would still be missing — but armor, and swords, and steel? It is a romantic thought, you think, but perhaps these pieces can be re-forged, heated and kissed by a blazing fire, by a steady hand.
que el contrario aceptase responder a sus preguntas era suficiente motivación para dar rienda suelta a una labia muy curiosa “tengo muchas dudas” admite asintiendo mientras piensa en todas las que se formulaban en su cabeza “¿eres más rápido ahora que antes? ¿tienes recuerdos de cuando eras humano al cien por ciento? ¿para nada te interesa la sangre humana? ¿y la comida normal si la comes? ¿y cómo sabe la sangre de un animal que está enfermo? ¿es agria? ¿es dulce? ¿cuál es tu tipo de sangre preferida? ¿es la a positivo? ¿la cero positivo? “ piensa un segundo “la cero positivo debe ser como agua de manantial por lo rara ¿no? ¿has probado con sangre de otras criaturas?” lo vuelve a mirar “¿algo que te guste además de amenazar con morderme y matarme?”
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📍 FLORISTERÍA FLEUR D'OR. ''Te recomiendo estas flores, a todes le gustan."
"¿Y a ti también te gustan? Porque preferiría una opinión más personal de por qué son tan famosas." Así recogió un ramillete para apreciarlo un poco más de cerca. Aunque, lamentablemente, el no percibir ningún olor obligó la presencia de un mohín. "¿Cómo se llaman?"
random moments / 🍎 a time my muse felt safe with yours / @astcrii
They laid side by side under a fuzzy blanket, her head snuggled against his chest and his fingers threading absently through her hair. Every few minutes she’d look up at him through her lashes, admiring the defined planes of his face and sharp eyes. The thrum of his heartbeat sounded loud and clear under her head, quickening when they met each other’s eyes.
Whenever he caught her looking, she merely smiled, unabashed, and hoped he knew that she was content to look at him all day. Because he felt like home - a feeling that, since she truly found it, she’d never give it up. Here it was, in an unlikely place - in a man whose life knew no kindness, no MERCY, yet had a heart so big and open. Eun thought she knew home in her family’s Gyeongju cottage, in the arms of a lover who held too tight, in the smell of cinnamon and sugar dusting a too - old apron, but no. This was it. Right here, right now, with he who was still healing but had so much to give.
She must’ve been staring again because she heard the rumble of a ‘what?’ reverberate through the comforting melody of his heartbeat.
‘Nothing.’
But really, it wasn’t NOTHING. It -- he was everything --- the gentle touch of a loved one she’d never known, the soft tone of a man finding his voice again, the qualms they shared while watching the stars. He was everything her previous boyfriend was not, and she didn’t think she could ever articulate that into words with the true depth of emotions she was feeling.
