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colormepurplex2 · 8 months ago

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In Memory of Him | It's Cold In Here

↳ Florist!Taehyung x Artist!f.Reader ⤜ Non-Idol, Late Husband's Best Friend ⤜ Rating: MA 🔞 ⤜ WC: 13,558 ⚠️ Mild language, death/loss of a loved one, deep depression, high anxiety, loads of guilt, hidden feelings, realizations, hurt feelings, repressed feelings, hurt/comfort

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With trembling fingers, you smooth out the letter that you found attached to a bundle of flowers on your doorstep.

To the love of my life, For after the funeral Take a deep breath, baby, I know it’s not easy. Even as I sit and write this, I can feel your energy in the next room. You’re always such a worrier, I’m sorry I’ve added to that. It’ll all be better soon, I promise. But, I know you and I know that you’ll pull away, you’ll cut yourself off…and we can’t have that, now can we? You have to keep going if we’re to stay connected even after I’m gone.

So, here’s the first of a collection of some things that you can hold and look back on when the storm starts to roll in. There are only so many words in existence to describe what you mean to me. So, instead of words, I want you to remember these feelings: Warmth - like the sun on your face while you read a great book Satisfaction - the way you sigh softly after a good, lazy day in bed Contentment - waking up with a smile on your face every morning Peace - that moment of quiet before the rain starts, when the scent of petrichor filters in These are all the things you’ve brought into my life the last seven years. I’ve never been able to look at the sun, sleeping, smiles, or storms the same. Never did I imagine I’d meet and marry such a beautiful, kind-hearted soul with a genuinely unique outlook on life. I never had to be reminded to smile because it just came so naturally whenever you were around. You have brought so much light into my world and gave me the best years of my life. You also gave me Sujin, the perfect little replica of myself even if you think he looks more like you than me (I secretly agree, but that’s not something I’ll admit outloud). When I look at our wonderful son, I’m reminded of the beauty that first drew me to you all those years ago. Being his father is the second greatest achievement of my life, the first being making you fall madly in love with me…don’t laugh, you know it’s true. Many people see things in black and white, a beginning and an end…but our life isn’t like that. We’re full of color and everything in between. You’ve supported me at my best and have loved me at my worst. Everything good in my life is because of you. I know you’ll always love me, and I know it won’t be easy once I’m gone, but I need you to promise me you’ll continue to wake up with that smile on your face and never forget how the sun feels or how beautiful the quiet before the storm is. I need my light, my girl, to keep going. Be that guiding light so I know exactly where you are in the world as I watch over you and Sujin. We knew forever wasn’t guaranteed, that’s just the way life is, right? This doesn’t mean it’s over, not by a long shot. You still have so much more to give, so much more love to offer. I know you’d never forget about me, that’s not what this letter is for—it’s not a reminder of me, it’s a reminder to live, love, and keep shining. There are more where this came from, Taehyung has them and knows what to do, but not until you’re ready for them. I love you so much, never stop living—for me, for Sujin…for you. Love forever, Your Yejun

The letter crumples in your fist, the bundle of hibiscus and lavender it was attached to forgotten on the step between your feet as you bury your face in the crook of your elbow and scream. It’s better that way—the symbolism of the hibiscus flower on a letter from Yejun is a punch to the gut when he’s no longer here. Eternity? Bullshit. The sound is muffled into the thick wool of your coat but no less filled with agony. As if the day wasn’t hard enough, everything went belly-up when you found the flowers and the letter on your door step. You choke on a breath of air as you try to control yourself.

“Yejun.” His name drips from your trembling lips, absorbed into your jacket sleeve like your cries. “I miss you so much. Why did you have to leave us?”

A hand on your shoulder makes you flinch, jerking away from the potential comfort, despite it being exactly what you need right now. You crowd against the wall, knees knocking into one another as you huddle in on yourself where you’re sitting in the stairwell outside your apartment door.

“Hey, hey, hey, come here,” a strong, soothing voice coos. Your limbs protest weakly for a moment, your heart raging with guilt at the prospect of finding solace in another man’s arms—even if that man is Taehyung, your now late husband's best friend—but the desperate need for someone to hold your pieces together wins out. You fear if you let yourself truly break, you’ll never be able to be made whole again. You frantically launch into those open arms, keening a wail into the solid chest between them. “Shh, it’s okay. I’ve got you.”

💔💔💔

Two years later

“Mommy, are we going to Uncle Tae’s house today?” Sujin asks from behind you, where he’s strapped into his booster seat.

You glance in the rearview mirror, angling yourself so you catch a glimpse of his smile as he stares out the window, patiently awaiting your answer. It’s gotten easier over the last two years to look at him without growing weepy. He looks like and reminds you so much of Yejun. They have the same chestnut-colored eyes and floppy midnight tresses. When he smiles, the tiny dimple on his left cheek is a near mirror to his father’s and something that your eyes seek out every time he flashes you a grin. Little pieces of his father that fill the gaps in your heart.

“Did you not want to stay at Grandma’s tonight? That’s what you said you wanted yesterday,” you remind him.

Sujin hums like he’s thinking hard about your question. “Well, I did want to go to Grandma’s, but I also want to see Uncle Tae, and plus, he always has good ice cream. All Grandma has is boring vanilla.”

“How about we see if Uncle Tae wants to hang out this weekend? I think Grandma would be sad if you decided not to stay with her tonight.”

In truth, you’d also be a bit disappointed if Sujin changed his mind. Being only four when his father passed, he doesn’t remember Yejun much, mostly knows him from photos and stories he’s heard. So, it’s not surprising he’s not able to put together that today is the second anniversary of his father’s passing. He doesn’t know that tonight isn’t just about your mom getting a visit. It’s also about you having an evening to grieve without being under your son's watchful and inquisitive eye.

Though maybe you’re wrong, perhaps he knows more than you think as he responds softly, “It’s okay, Mommy, I’ll stay with Grandma so you can go visit Daddy.”

If it wasn’t for tightening your grip on the steering wheel, you might have driven right off the highway. “You know what today is?” you ask hesitantly once your initial shock passes.

“Of course I do,” Sujin says with another smile, his dimple catching in the afternoon sunlight coming in through the car window. “I might not remember him, but I could never forget him.” It’s a wonder there aren’t more six-year-old poets, as what he just said is easily the most eloquent thing ever uttered by a child. Your heart swells, and you feel that telltale burn in the back of your nose and behind your eyes as you blink away the flood of emotions threatening to spill into the open.

You nod, taking a deep breath. “That’s right. He’d be so proud of you and how much you’ve grown.”

“He’d be proud of you, too, Mommy.”

It’s another blow, directly targeting the cracks already forming in your armor. Fissures zip and snap over the surface of the wall you’ve spent the last two years building. “Thank you, buddy. I love you,” you manage to get past the lump in your throat.

The rest of the car ride home is spent with Sujin telling you about his day at school and how one of his classmates snuck a salamander into the classroom after recess. You hum, haw, and laugh as he recounts the way the class reacted to the discovery of the amphibian.

It makes you feel lighter, listening to his words and hearing the clear whimsy his heart possesses as the salamander suddenly becomes a dragon and Sujin, the fearless knight that saved the teacher—the damsel in distress—by scooping it up and putting it in an empty lunch box.

“She said since I was so brave and such a good helper that I could go outside with Mr. Kim, the science teacher, and help him release it back into the wild,” he proudly proclaims. “Did you know salamanders like water? Mr. Kim said they’re kind of like frogs even though they look more like lizards.” Sujin continues on, spouting off facts he learned about the salamander from his science teacher.

It’s a short drive from the school to your apartment. You’ve often thought about moving, using some of the life insurance money from Yejun to buy you and Sujin a lovely place outside the city. But, your mom lives just a floor up, and it’s been convenient having someone so close to look after Sujin when you need them, like tonight.

Having your mom close by, not just as a babysitter but also as an emotional support outlet, has been a blessing and far outweighs the other feelings—the seemingly endless void that now lingers in place of your late husband. With that, though, you can’t help looking at your small apartment as more like a preservation of memories. It was the first place you and Yejun moved into after getting married. It’s the place you both brought Sujin home to when he was born. It’s still filled with so many memories…you’re not sure you want to leave—at least, not yet.

The building has no elevator, just several winding flights of steps right up the middle. “Go on up to Grandma’s. I’ll stop by with dinner before I leave. Remember, homework first before you play.”

Sujin gives you a beaming smile and nods his head in understanding before vaulting up the stairs, his strong six-year-old legs carrying him far faster than your own. You watch him disappear up the stairs—the last flash of his face so reminiscent of Yejun racing up those very same steps the day you moved in—followed by the familiar sound of your mother’s voice drifting out over and down the stairwell as she welcomes him into her space—a safe space, away from the looming cloud of darkness over you.

Knowing he’s occupied and cared for, you allow your mask to slip just a little. The weight on your shoulders eases as you let the emotional fatigue roll in and replace your typically calm and collected demeanor. Even after two years, it’s not gotten any easier when this particular day comes. The holidays are hard, sure. There are plenty of days where you find yourself feeling like it’s too much…but nothing truly compares to this day. It’s not filled with happy memories the way those other days are. It’s nothing but darkness. There is a constant ache in your chest, which is amplified when the calendar turns over, and you find yourself once again reliving that fateful day all over again.

You spent nearly every waking hour sitting beside Yejun, the uncomfortable, stiff hospital chair becoming your permanent perch. The ventilator was always loud, but the punching swoosh grew to be comforting because you knew that meant he was still there. All the lines and tubes hooked up to him made it look like a scene from one of those sci-fi films he enjoyed making you watch with him. Yejun was so full of life when you first met, many years before. But, the image stuck in your mind—the one you can’t seem to get rid of—is of him with sallow cheeks and pale, greyish lips, drained of life.

It’s weird to think of watching someone die. But that’s precisely what you did over the six months Yejun was in the hospital. The disease moved quickly, the cancer stealing your husband away bit by bit, and you were powerless to stop it. That’s probably one of the worst parts, the helpless feeling that no matter what you do, you can’t prevent it from happening. No amount of prayer, begging, or screaming would change it. He’d still die, just the same. Day by day, the best parts of the man you loved vanished, and by the end—you feel guilty even thinking the thoughts, so you push them out of your head.

After unlocking the door, you step into the quiet space of your apartment. Your shoes join the ones discarded by the door before you drop your purse on the small console table against the wall and make your way across the living room to the hall leading to the bedrooms. Sujin’s room is the first door. You peek inside to see that he had made up his bed before school this morning. You make a mental note to grab one of his chocolate popsicles from the freezer before dropping off dinner tonight. He deserves a little treat for being such a good kid.

The small single bathroom sits between Sujin’s room and the larger of the two bedrooms, the one you shared with Yejun for almost five years. You haven’t changed any of the decor. Everything is the same as it always has been, right down to the pillow on Yejun’s side of the bed. It took months before you mustered the courage to wash the pillow case and cried the entire time you stripped the pillow and plopped it in the washer.

The pillow was small fish compared to the closet. Going through all of Yejun’s clothes nearly took you out. Thankfully, Taehyung was there to help. You weren’t the only one that lost someone two years ago today. Taehyung and Yejun grew up together and worked together for the last dozen years, starting out as teens together at Taehyung’s parents' florist shop. They are—were—as close as brothers, and not just for the fact that Taehyung’s parents took Yejun in when his parents both passed, but because of their unbreakable bond—a bond nearly as strong as the one you had with Yejun.

Taehyung has been there for you whenever you’ve needed him since Yejun’s passing. All it takes is a phone call or a text message, and he drops everything for you. You try not to take advantage of it because you don’t want him sucked into your empty void any more than he already is. No grown man should be attached to a woman like that, especially when he has no obligation for it.

But, you must admit, it’s nice knowing he’s there…especially today. This is the one day of the year that you know you don’t have to text or call Taehyung for him to show up. His one promise to you. He’ll be there, waiting for you at the cemetery, just like he was last year.

You pull off your oversized t-shirt and worn jeans covered in splotches of paint from your time in the studio today. Once a well-known local artist, you haven’t been able to create anything worthwhile since Yejun passed. He would always joke about being your one true muse. It seems he wasn’t wrong. Everything you’ve been able to create in the last two years feels wrong, like it’s missing something.

The life insurance you received from Yejun has been more than enough to keep you and Sujin afloat. However, you feel like a failure having even to touch that money, even if it’s just to pay the bills. If you could just get your life together, you’d be able to provide for yourself and Sujin the way you once did—before everything happened. Shoving that line of thinking away, you focus on the here and now, just getting through the next handful of hours.

A quick shower later, and you’re dressed in a warm sweater and a clean pair of jeans with thick wool socks. It’s cold, winter having well and truly taken hold outside, but when the sun goes down, the bite from the wind grows more bitter. Grabbing the large, lidded bowl of beef stew you had cooking in the slow cooker all day. You wrap it in a dish towel to keep from burning your hands on the hot sides, snag a popsicle for Sujin, and make the short trip upstairs to your mom’s place.

“Hey, sweetheart,” your mom greets you when she opens the door. She’s gotten a lot more grey in her hair in the last year or so. The steel-colored strands stand out against her temples, framing her strong but still soft face. You used to think she looked too austere, but then you realized that was just the permanent mark of motherhood and time.

“Hi, Mom. Did Sujin get his homework done?” You follow your mom in, shutting and locking the door behind you as she ambles into the kitchen on the other side of the living room. Her apartment is a near mirror of your own, her second bedroom set up for Sujin as well.

“He finished a bit ago and wanted to break out the paints. Was nattering on about some sort of lizard, I think. He wanted to try to paint it,” she explains, putting the tea kettle on without needing to ask. Peppermint tea with a dollop of honey can fix even the worst of woes in her eyes. She’ll insist you have some just as she has any other time she can feel your darkness crowding in. You’ve grown to appreciate your mother's intuition, both for yourself and your son's sake.

“There was an incident involving a student bringing in a salamander at school, it seems. Sujin helped the teacher and was allowed to go out with Namjoon—Mr. Kim—to release it.” You recall the conversation in the car, your mother chuckling softly when you tell her about the salamander turning into a dragon.

She busies herself, packing the tea steeper with her own blend of mint tea. Tending the small garden of herbs and spices that she keeps on the fire escape off the living room, is how she spends most of her days since she retired a few years ago. Even in winter, she keeps a small plastic greenhouse over them, opening it just enough to care for them each day. “So, you’re on a first-name basis with that science teacher now?” she asks. You can tell she’s lightly probing, trying to figure out if there is anything more between you and ‘Mr. Kim’.

“I met him at the beginning of the year when we had parent-teacher meetings. He insisted I call him Namjoon, that’s all, Mom.”

Humming, she grabs the kettle just before it begins to whistle. “Still, he’s nice?” she asks, casting you a glance over her shoulder.

You pull your bottom lip between your teeth, wishing she’d not try to go down this path of questioning. You know she means well, but you’re just…you’re not ready to think about those things.

“He’s nice enough, Mom, I guess. It was just a slip of the tongue. I’m used to greeting him at drop-off in the mornings. It’s not—I don’t, it’s just being cordial, y’know? I’m not ready…” you trail off, hoping your mom picks up on what you’re trying to say so you don’t actually have to say it; not today.

Her free hand goes to her mouth, covering her frown. “Oh, sweetheart, I didn’t mean—you know I’d never, not like that. I’m sorry. Forgive an old fool for her loose words.”

“It’s okay, Mom, really,” you offer with a tight smile as you set the stew on the counter and pop the popsicle you brought for Sujin in the freezer.

She sets down the tea, the cup slightly trembling on the tiny saucer she serves it on. “I made some pajeon to go with the stew. It’s warming in the oven. Are you going to stay for dinner?” she asks, seeing that you need to move on from the previous subject.

You settle on one of the chairs at her small dining table, pick up the tiny teacup, and blow across the surface before taking a tentative sip. The mint is a cooling contrast to the heat of the liquid, coating your throat with a soothing sensation. The blooming sweetness of the honey lingers on your tongue, helping combat the intense punch of the minty flavor. It’s comforting. Reminds you of home.

“I’m not all that hungry. You and Sujin enjoy it. You’re sure you’re okay taking him to school tomorrow?” She gives you a fond smile and nods. “I’ll pick him up on my way home and we’ll come have dinner.”

“That’s fine, sweetheart.”

You finish off the tea, suppressing a grimace as it goes down a little too warm and nearly scalds your throat. The sun will be completely down soon, and you’d like to get to the cemetery before it’s too dark out. “I should get going. Just going to say hi to him real quick.”

Your mom watches you stand. Her eyes are hyper-focused on your face. “Okay, sweetheart,” she says slowly. It’s clear she wants to say more, but you’re glad she doesn’t push.

The room your mom has set up for Sujin has a small bed pushed into one corner, leaving the rest of the space for him to play—unlike his room at your place, which has a writing desk and dresser taking up the majority of the play space. He’s never complained, though, choosing to get creative with the small room he does have. “Hey, buddy, Grandma said you’re painting. Can I see?”

You lean on the door jamb, peering into the room. The easel Sujin is using is angled away from the door. All you can see is smears of bright color peeking around the edge of the canvas.

His bright eyes meet yours as he grins extra wide. “It’s not done yet, but of course you can see it.”

Stepping in and around the easel frame, you take in the canvas covered in paint. When your mom said he was going to paint the salamander, you knew there was a possibility of said ‘lizard’ being portrayed as a dragon as it was in Sujin’s story in the car. But what you didn’t expect were the characters surrounding the dragon. You count them, six in total. The brunette woman at the top of the castle tower is clearly Sujin’s teacher, Mrs. Min. Sujin himself is astride the dragon, and who you think is Namjoon stands in a corner near some trees, his large-frame glasses are what lead you to believe that’s who it is. The other three characters are where you’re a bit lost.

“Who are these people?” you ask, gesturing to the other feminine figure framed by two men; one with unruly black hair and the other with small angel wings extending from his shoulders. It dawns on you the moment you ask.

“That’s you, Daddy, and Uncle Tae, of course,” Sujin proudly states. “You were in the tower with Mrs. Min. I’m rescuing her, and Uncle Tae is rescuing you while Daddy guides him.”

You’re not sure what to say. But you can’t help looking at your son in a different light. He’s only six, but in moments like this, you feel like his soul is older and wiser than yours. “It’s lovely,” you finally say, because it truly is, and everything else you could say would definitely start the waterworks, and there will be enough of that later. “I’ll be back tomorrow to get you. Be good for Grandma. There’s a treat for you in the freezer, but only after dinner, okay?” You feel like you’re running away—and maybe you are, but the darkness creeps in just a little bit further the more you look at his painting.

“Yes, ma’am,” Sujin beams at you sweetly. He lifts his chin, angling a cheek in your direction for a kiss. You plant one there, throwing an arm around his back for a quick squeeze, too. “Love you, Mommy.”

“Love you, too, buddy,” you murmur, shoving down the suffocating feeling bubbling in your chest—just need to make it a few more hours.

💔💔💔

The cemetery is about an hour's drive from your place in the city. Yejun grew up in the countryside, and the columbarium where he’s interred is at the cemetery closest to his and Taehyung’s childhood home. It’s a quiet drive, a typical Tuesday evening if it were any other week. You don’t even bother with music, haven’t in the last two years, preferring to just soak in the quiet and try to center yourself.

As you pull into the parking area outside the gate to the grounds, you spot Taehyung’s black SUV. He’s standing beside it, leaning against the driver's side door with his chin tipped down below the line of the thick scarf wrapped around his neck. Your headlights swing across his vehicle, illuminating him in the process as you park.

You take your time climbing out of your car, casting fleeting glances in his direction while you gather your courage and resolve. He’s wearing a thick grey-colored tweed coat that covers him to the knees, and khaki slacks lead down to shiny brown loafers. His hair is windswept, the fluffy waves moving across his forehead with every gust of chilly air.

“Hey,” you say as you swing open your door and step out. He catches your eye over the roof of your car and gives you a soft smile.

“Good evening. Drive okay?”

You nod. “Not too much traffic, which is always nice.”

“You should have let me come and pick you up.” It’s the same thing he said last year, to which you decline politely just the same as well.

“Thanks, but I enjoy the drive. Gives me time to think.”

His eyes flick over you, taking you in from head to toe. There is understanding clear on his face. “Shall we?” He gestures toward the entrance gate. You notice a small bundle of flowers held in his other hand that’s hanging by his side. “Oh, this is for you.” It surprises you when Taehyung offers you the flowers, having thought he was bringing them to leave in Yejun’s vase.

You take the offered cluster, automatically bringing it to your nose and giving it a delicate sniff. It’s hard to smell the fragrance in the cold, but as you peer down at the flowers and take in the deep purple and soft pink, the scent of lavender and hibiscus filters through as if on a memory. It’s a combination that reminds you painfully of Yejun, as this was always his go-to whenever he would bring you home flowers from the shop after work.

“Thank y—“ your polite words cut off as you hear the distinct crackle of paper as you shift the bundle of flowers between your hands. “What’s this?” you ask, holding the flowers up until you see the small envelope attached to the hemp string holding the bunch together.

“A note,” Taehyung responds slowly as if he’s trying to decide if that’s all he’ll say. “Perhaps wait until we’re settled to read it?”

You finger the crisp fold of parchment, wondering. “Okay, yeah,” you agree, chalking it up to most likely being a grievance note from Taehyung, and it might be awkward for you to read it right now in front of him.

The cemetery typically closes at sundown, but Taehyung has access as the gardener. When he and Yejun took over Taehyung’s parents' floral shop, they expanded the business to include landscaping for local companies and establishments. The cemetery is one such establishment they took on. He produces a key from his pocket, unlocking the small pedestrian gate that must have been locked up not too long ago, judging by the sun barely having dipped below the horizon.

“Moojin left about ten minutes before you pulled up,” Taehyung explains casually, confirming the thought you just had. “It’ll just be us, so we can take as much time as we need.”

Maybe you should feel bad that Taehyung gives you preferential treatment and access to the cemetery after hours, but it’s hard to care about that when other, darker feelings have you clutched so tightly. The walk to the columbarium is relatively short, being one of the newer buildings erected within the grounds just some twenty years ago or so.

“The trees are doing well, even in the winter,” you note, nodding toward the row of young pines along the fence line. It was one of the last projects Yejun worked on with Taehyung before he became ill.

“He’d be able to tell you all the properties of the tree that make it sustainable during this time of the year,” Taehyung responds, his voice carrying notes of sadness. Yejun doesn’t come up much in conversation between the two of you, most things not needing to be said, merely understood without a spoken word. So, it’s surprising and endearing to actually hear Taehyung talk about him, especially now.

You smile, knowing he’s right. “With enough scientific jargon to make you go cross-eyed trying to keep up, too.”

That earns you a soft laugh from Taehyung. “And he wouldn’t even realize it until you’re so lost you can’t even pretend to have understood.”

“I miss that,” you whisper with a sigh, your warm breath misting lightly in the cold.

Taehyung slips his arm through yours, hooking his elbow around the crook of your arm. “Me, too.”

💔💔💔

Taehyung

It’s never easy, watching the way you suffer through your emotions. Taehyung knows you try to hide them, and sometimes you’re successful. But others…like right now, he can read you as clear as a bright spring sky. Only instead of pastel blues, pinks, and yellows, you’re a stark monochrome of Pantone grey. Just as clear, but decidedly less alive. He hates it. Knowing just how vibrant of a person you once were. When Yejun left your life, so, too, did the color, it seems. Leeched away with the slow death of your husband. It’s a cruel fate, Taehyung has decided, and it’s one you never deserved. Yejun also knew this. He saw this in the way you mourned at his bedside, even before he was gone. It’s why Yejun made Taehyung promise to take care of you, to never let you forget how to smile.

As more time passes, Taehyung isn’t sure whether or not he’s done a good job by Yejun’s request. Not when the dark circles around your eyes seem to get more permanent every time Taehyung sees you. It’s why he brought the letter—the next letter. He’s curious if you remember the first one, the one that came the day of Yejun’s funeral; the one that had you crawling into Taehyung’s arms for the first time, seeking the comfort you knew was there.

That’s happened a few times in the two years since Yejun now. Any time you begin to fray at the edges and unravel a bit too quickly, Taehyung’s been there, weaving you back together the best he can. It might not be pretty, but a patchwork quilt is better than shredded rags, he likes to think. He hopes, at least.

“Are you warm enough?” Taehyung asks, realizing your arm is trembling around his. The jacket you’re wearing is far too thin, meant more for warding off spring rain showers than winter chills. Your lips are formed into a thin, bloodless line as if you’re trying to keep your teeth from chattering, and your brow is pinched.

The lift of your shoulder is subtle, dismissive and nonchalant. “I’m okay.”

“No, you’re not. Here,” Taehyung insists, pulling you to a halt on the walking path. “Take this.” He shrugs out of his jacket, draping it over the thinner trench you’re wearing over your sweater. You instantly relax, a soft sigh misting the air in front of your mouth.

“Thank you. I forget how cold it gets out here at night,” you mumble, encouraging Taehyung to continue walking toward the entrance to the columbarium, where Yejun’s memorial awaits. “Are you sure you’ll be okay without it?” Your eyes are round and glassy when you look up at him, the moonlight overhead reflecting in their depths.

The thick sweater Taehyung has on paired with his wool scarf is enough to stave off the wintery bite, but what warms him the most is seeing your eyes flash with a brief flicker of life when you snuggle into the depths of his jacket, bringing the tweed collar up around your neck after he assures you he’s fine without it.

Your feet shuffle, your stride slowing as you approach the columbarium. Taehyung can feel your hesitancy. The air around you is suffocating and full of static, something Taehyung wants desperately to help dispel.

“Come on. Together.” Taehyung offers you his hand, splaying his fingers wide in invitation. You lick your lips, eyes flicking between Taehyung’s face and his offered hand. Finally, you sag a little and slip your fingers in between his.

Your hand is soft and delicate in his. Taehyung has always admired your ability as an artist, being able to take your hands and a simple tool like a paintbrush and create something profound and breathtaking. Some might argue that what Taehyung does is also a form of art, but he swears it’s nothing compared to the pure magic you create. He’s found himself under your spell more than once, entranced by your art.

Even the works you’ve created in the last two years, the things you keep hidden away in your studio, are still quite beautiful—if more haunted. Taehyung knows you’re not selling any art and you haven’t hosted a gallery night in almost three years now. The few times he’s been inside your studio since Yejun, you’ve indulged his curiosity and let him look at the things you’ve worked on.

Taehyung cherishes those private moments you allow him within your space. He uses them as a time to reflect on what life has brought to you and to him. You have a shared experience of losing someone, but it’s clear you’re both working through your pain differently. Your studio, once a bright and vibrant space filled with inspiration and captured moments of love, is now more of a tomb, silent and full of the whisper of death.

Taehyung eases open the door to the columbarium. The motion-activated lights within flicker on and fill the space with a soft yellow glow. It’s better than the typical fluorescent white lights they used to use. Taehyung thinks the bright, sterile lighting is far too reminiscent of a morgue or hospital, not exactly places people should be reminded of when coming to visit their dead loved ones. So, he suggested the change when he took over doing the gardening for the cemetery.

Yejun’s niche is towards the back of the space, near the bottom. You separate yourself from Taehyung, letting the bundle of flowers droop upside down in your hand as you step lightly across the floor. You look like a specter, gliding across holy ground in search of what’s keeping you tied to this plane of existence. In many ways, Taehyung thinks that’s precisely what is happening with you. You’re suspended in time, stuck in a limbo of heartache.

In the two years since Yejun, you haven’t been able to move on, even though that’s exactly what Yejun wanted you to do. Yejun never wanted you to mourn him for long. He told Taehyung there was far too much love for you to give, and you had a heart big enough to love someone else while still holding true to Yejun. What Yejun failed to realize, Taehyung thinks, is that without Yejun, you didn’t want to love again.

Taehyung holds back a few steps, giving you some time to have a private moment as you kneel down in front of Yejun’s niche. The placard covering the niche is engraved with his name, birth and death dates, and a small metal frame that holds a glass engraved likeness of Yejun. It pains Taehyung to see the smiling face and crinkled eyes behind his wireframed glasses. Yejun was his brother in all ways, except for being born to the same parents. That didn’t matter to them, though—still doesn’t matter to Taehyung. They love—loved—each other just as fiercely as if they had been.

“Yejun,” you whimper his name, pressing a hand to the placard, head hanging low. Taehyung watches your shoulders shake with silent sobs, and he can’t take it anymore. He moves across the space and kneels down beside you, ignoring the cold that instantly leeches through the knees of his trousers. Before he can think better of it, he has his arms around you, trying to hold you together…trying to keep your seams from unraveling too fast.

Taehyung coos softly, murmuring as many words of encouragement and solace as can work past his quivering lips, “Shh, it’s okay. I’m here. It’s going to be okay. I promise. He loved you so fiercely. I miss him, too. I’m here for you. Shh, it’s going to be okay.” Over and over again, Taehyung repeats it like a mantra until your sniffles subside, and you slump into his arms, feebly returning his embrace.

Feeling your arms around him is a comfort, one that helps him keep his own tears in check. “Thank you for being here,” you sniff before burying your face in his scarf and inhaling deeply.

“I’m always going to be here for you,” Taehyung offers, smoothing a hand over your hair in what he hopes is a soothing fashion. He watched Yejun console you enough times to have a good idea of what might help. After Sujin was born, you battled postpartum depression for a while, and Taehyung helped wherever he could, giving him those brief glimpses into your emotional turmoil. Yejun always petted your hair and let you ground yourself in his embrace. He never even had to say a word; just let you draw on his strength. So, Taehyung has always tried to emulate that for you whenever you’ve needed him.

You sigh, and Taehyung reluctantly lets you pull away to sit back on your heels. “I’m such a mess. I’m sorry.”

“Hey,” Taehyung says, capturing the side of your face in one of his hands. You sway on your knees; big, round, red-rimmed eyes locked onto his. “Never apologize to me. You’re human, not a mess. Okay?”

“Okay,” you whisper, lips barely moving. You slowly turn, sitting with your back against Yejun’s niche.

“Okay,” Taehyung repeats, and settles in beside you. He barely notices the cold this time as it seeps through the seat of his pants. There are far too many fierce emotions rolling through him to be bothered by the chill.

“Is it okay if I read this now?” you ask after several moments of shared silence.

Taehyung looks over at you, fingering the small envelope attached to the bundle of fresh flowers he brought. He swallows past the thick knot in his throat, worried about you reading it but knowing you need to. Perhaps it’ll be best read when he’s around and not in the solitude of your apartment where you could fall apart without someone there to catch you; Taehyung knows Sujin is staying at your mother’s tonight.

He clears his throat. “Uh, sure, yeah.”

“They really are beautiful,” you say, voice so soft it barely carries to Taehyung. You admire the flowers for a moment, and the anxiety Taehyung had earlier in the shop when he was wrapping them goes away. He was worried that he got the flowers wrong. He knew Yejun always brought you fresh flowers, different types for different occasions. Yejun was all about the spiritual and emotional meaning of flowers, something that Taehyung hardly paid any mind to until after.

Finally, you tug the end of the string that attaches the envelope to the flowers, and you set them to the side. The flap is tucked into the envelope, so you slide it out and remove the tri-folded parchment from within. It looks the same as it did the day Yejun gave it to Taehyung a few weeks before he died. It’s the same as all the other letters waiting in a box under Taehyung’s bed—waiting for the right moment, waiting for you.

“If you need a moment—” Taehyung begins to say, but you hold up a hand to silence him. Slowly, you unfold the paper and smooth it over your thighs. Your eyes flick over the paper, snatching on random words until they hit the name signed at the bottom.

“What is this?” you whisper, yet your voice cuts like steel. “Is this a cruel joke?” You hold the paper up for Taehyung to see. At the top, it reads ‘For if you haven’t moved on’. Taehyung can understand why you might think so.

“N-no. It’s…there’s…” Taehyung pauses and takes a deep breath before trying again. “It’s not a joke. It’s from Yejun.” The look of hurt that ghosts across your face brings a prickling heat behind Taehyung's eyes, and he has to blink them several times to hold his emotions at bay as he explains. “The letter I gave you after the funeral?” He waits until you give him a subtle nod. “This is another he gave me…along with many others.”

“Many others?” you ask, incredulity seeping into your tone.

“He wanted to leave you something, something more than just your memories and heartache. So, he spent a few weeks, before he got bad, writing letters to you. He gave them to me and made me promise I’d give them to you when the time was right. This one—” Taehyung nods toward the letter held between your fingers “—was one I wasn’t sure if I’d have to give you or not. It was one Yejun specifically said to only give you if…well, if you hadn’t started living life again.”

“Hadn’t started living life again?” You balk at that, rearing back from him with an angry look pinching your face.

Taehyung feels like he’s botching this, not explaining it properly to you or something. “Just, just please read it.” Taehyung has no idea what the letter says. He never wanted to invade Yejun’s and your privacy. He’s hoping, though, that maybe the letter might hold some key information to help you understand…to help ease your anger in a way that Taehyung’s words can’t seem to.

You stare at Taehyung for a moment, and he’s certain you’re about to spit in his face and leave him sitting here alone. But, you finally shake your head and sigh, settling back into place and focusing on the paper. Taehyung is sorely tempted to try and read over your shoulder, but he doesn’t want to further your ire. So, he slides a few inches away, opening up a wide, cold gap between the two of you…and waits.

💔💔💔

To the love of my life, For if you haven’t moved on Hi, baby. I hope this is a letter Tae never has to give you, but if you’re reading this, then that means we’re not doing so well. I say ‘we’, because I’m still there with you. Just like I promised in my other letter. I told Tae to use his discretion on whether to ever give you this or not. He knows you nearly as well as I do, so I trust him. So, if you ever read this, know he doesn’t mean any harm by it…I don’t mean any harm by it. But, baby, you gotta start living again. At this point, I don’t know how much time will have passed since I had to go away, but I do know you can’t let much more time pass. I need you to live, my love. Live for me, live for Sujin…live for yourself. No more standing by while the world continues to spin, you have to spin with it, baby, let it carry you away, and on to better days. Please. Find something that makes you laugh, find something that makes you smile…even if it’s a someone. I know you’ll always love me. There is no doubt about that. But, don’t let that love stop you from living. Let someone in, let someone help…love again, for me. Show the world that it can’t tear you down. Go on a date, go skydiving, go to one of those fancy art galleries in Italy you used to fantasize about…just go, baby. Go and do, and be free. Don’t be afraid…please, don’t be afraid to live. Love forever, Your Yejun

The memory of the other letter, albeit a bit fuzzy, drifts through your mind as you sit and try to come to terms with how you feel at this moment. You absently trace the neat scrawl of Yejun’s handwriting covering the page. Don’t be afraid. Are you afraid? Is that it? You’ve never thought of it like that, in terms of being afraid to live. But, if you think about it, you suppose that’s the root of it. You are afraid. Afraid of moving on. What if you do find happiness? What if you do find someone else? Yejun is clear that he’s confident you’ll never forget him, but what if you do?

You don’t want to be sitting somewhere thirty years from now, with your head thrown back, laughing at the joke from some other guy, with Yejun having not crossed your mind in years. It’s not that you don’t want to be happy. You just…you don’t know.

Taehyung is sitting so quietly beside you that if you closed your eyes, you’d think you were alone. Guilt pricks against your heart at how badly you first reacted, the harsh tone and words you lashed at Taehyung where he didn’t deserve it. You clear your throat, drawing the flicker of Taehyung’s eyes in your direction.

“I’m sorry, Tae. I really am. I shouldn’t have spoken to you like that.” The words are thick on your tongue as you work through the emotions threatening to obliterate your existence. You think you might cry, but give yourself an imaginary pat on the back when you manage to maintain eye contact with Taehyung while successfully blinking back the tears.

Taehyung is quiet for a moment, a muscle in his jaw working, flexing the dark stubble you can see shadowing along his jawline. It’s in this moment that you feel like you see Taehyung in a new light, with added clarity. He looks haggard, tired. You didn’t notice it before, the sunken circles around his eyes or the lack of a clean shave…until now. It’s not fair, you realize, that he has taken care of you so much the last two years when you haven’t even so much as bothered to check on how he is doing.

You’re just about to break the silence with another feeble apology when he smiles, it’s faint, but it’s there. “You don’t need to apologize to me. Yejun and I might have shared a different kind of bond than what you two had, but I have at least an inkling of the keen sting you’re feeling, the one that never quite goes away no matter what you do.” He brings a hand up and presses it to the center of his chest. “The one that slices a little deeper after the sun goes down and everyone else has gone about their lives.”

Chilled goosebumps pop up along your arms, despite the warmth from the added layer of Taehyung’s jacket. That is exactly what it feels like, a lingering sting that won’t go away, one that grows when you’re alone.

You lick your trembling lips, tearing your gaze away from his and focusing back on the letter clutched in your hand. “Yejun,” you whisper. “He—he wants…he wants me to move on.” A soft sob catches in your throat. “But, I can’t do that. How can I do that?”

Your shoulders heave as the emotions you were able to hold at bay before come crashing through the walls you managed to put up. It’s not like the weeping from earlier. That was simply the quiet cries of a mourning wife. This is bone-deep, soul-rending agony that shakes your entire body.

Taehyung pulls you into his arms, and you press your face into the cushioning of his scarf and scream. The sound is muffled, but you can still hear it echoing through the columbarium when all the air finally empties from your lungs. You try to replenish the air, sucking in stilted breaths, but it’s not enough. Panic ensues, your heart launching into a heavy, staccato rhythm as if trying to pound right out of your chest.

“Hey, hey,” Taehyung soothes. “Slow down. Try to breathe slowly.” He pulls you firmly into his lap. You’re heedless to the intimate position your body falls into with your knees on either side of his hips. All you care about is getting air into your lungs. Taehyung holds you by the face, angling yours so you look up into his worried eyes. “Come on, slow. In…out…like that, come on, another one. In and then out.” He breathes with you, exaggerating the way he inhales air through his nose and pushes it back out through his mouth.

His warm breath puffs across your face with each exhale, carrying with it the faintest sharp tinge of mint and the earthy tones of tea. Something that instantly makes you think of home. It helps bring you back to reality, slowing your rampaging heart, and subsiding your shuddering cries.

“I can’t do it,” you mumble.

“You can. You’re stronger than you give yourself credit for.”

“No, no. You don’t—I can’t. It’s…it’s cold in here,” you whisper, pressing a trembling hand over your heart. “No one wants that.”

A soft, sad smile forms on Taehyung’s face as he continues to stare down at you. “Good thing that I know a thing or two about keeping things warm.” He drops his hands from your face and grabs the lapels of his jacket that’s still draped over your shoulders and gives it a tug, pulling it tighter around you. You can’t help but smile, even if it’s a watery one.

“What would I do without you?” you ask, not expecting Taehyung to answer.

“You’d make it.” He sounds so sure. “I know you would, you’d do it. But, I am glad to be here, to help however I can.”

Taehyung doesn’t urge you off of his lap, just allows you to rest there with your cheek pressed over his softly beating heart, finding whatever comfort you can from the proximity of another source of warmth. His words linger there, filling the space between you with a comfortability that you know you’ll never find anywhere else. You don’t say anything else, as there isn’t much else to say. At least, not words you think you could say out loud. Not here, not now.

But, an hour later, as you’re driving home, you decide to try. So, you do something you haven’t done in a while and turn on the radio, letting the music fill the silence from before. It’s a small step, but a step nonetheless; the first of—you hope—many.

The next morning, with the light of a new day spilling through the gap between your bedroom curtains, you decide you feel…good. As you lay in bed last night, full of revelations about how you’re going to start making steps toward Yejun’s desire for you to be happy again, worry began to set in. Worry over whether or not you can do this. Now, though, you feel decidedly different—light, in a way—as you push back the blankets and climb out of bed.

With your mom having taken Sujin to school this morning, it afforded you some time to sleep in, which is something you haven’t done in years. You weren’t sure you were going to, considering how poorly you’ve been sleeping the last couple of years. It feels nice, stretching your arms over your head and not feeling as groggy for once.

There is one thing you want to do before heading to the studio, where you know you’ll probably just piddle around until it’s time to pick up Sujin, but it’s just baby steps for now. It’s not lost on you that your work, the art you create, no matter if you manage to move on or not, might still be something that you’re never able to recover. Yejun wasn’t far off when he joked about being your one true muse, but you try to remain hopeful that you can surprise yourself.

The box in the back of the closet is exactly where you left it almost two years ago. It holds some of your most treasured possessions. Things you’ve held on to dating back as far as your teen years and as recent as two years ago. You kneel in the bottom of your closet and slide the box out from behind the stack of empty shoe boxes you can’t seem to toss out.

It’s a bit faded, the blue exterior, once a brilliant navy, is now more denim in color. You’ve had the box since you were a child, given to you by your father the summer before he split from your mom. That really hurt your family, when he cut himself out of the picture without so much as an apology; he ran off with another woman. It was so hard for you to believe in love after that.

Lifting the small silvered latch, you ease open the box lid and sigh as your eyes land on the folded paper nestled on top. Yejun’s first letter. It’s the last thing you put in this box. The paper still feels crisp in your fingers as you delicately pluck it out and unfold it. You worry at your bottom lip a moment before letting your eyes devour the same words you read once before.

This time, they don’t hurt nearly as much. You still feel that piercing ache, but it’s accompanied by another, fresher feeling—one of hope. What stands out the most, now, though, is the confirmation that there are other letters waiting for you. Yejun says as much himself in this letter, you just hadn’t ever put the dots together, too distracted in your grief.

There are endless possibilities for what those other letters might be for. But, what’s clear is that you won't get another one until you do something to deserve it. Knowing Yejun, you have a few ideas of what those things might be. There is a thrill but also a sense of trepidation as you think about that. You want to move on and be happy again, and in doing so, you know you’ll get the other letters, but there’s also that sense of overwhelming dread.

Where do you begin?

You spent most of your day rearranging and organizing supplies at the studio. But, now that the sun is beyond its zenith and casting longer shadows across your paint-marked studio floor, you feel like you’ve done nothing but waste time. You still haven’t decided where to begin with Yejun’s letters and you’re no closer to coming up with an idea for your next project either.

With frustration coloring your thoughts, you lock up and welcome the reprieve of going and picking Sujin up from school. That’s one part of your life that you do know up from down with.

As you pull through the pick up line, you don’t see Sujin anywhere out front. You spot Mrs. Min ushering a few students to their cars, her friendly face sporting a smile as she does so. Her eye catches yours and she holds up a hand, rushing over to your passenger side window.

“Hi!” she says when you roll it down. “So glad I caught you before you waited too long. Sujin volunteered to help Mr. Kim with his terrarium and it’s taking a bit longer than expected. He should be out in the next fifteen minutes or so, feel free to park in the teacher’s lot or you can wait here if you’d like.”

“Mrs. Min!” a rambunctious gaggle of students call her name, requesting her assistance.

She gives you an apologetic look. “Sorry, duty calls. He shouldn’t be too long!” she calls over her shoulder as she jogs towards the cluster of students beckoning her over. One of the kids has what appears to be a large diorama that they’re having a hard time carrying to their car, even with the assistance of their friends.

“Well, great,” you mumble to yourself, checking your rearview mirror and seeing a long line of cars waiting behind you.

Pulling ahead, you slip around the side of the school and pull into one of the empty teacher spots and cut the engine. You haven’t been inside the school since the parent-teacher meeting at the beginning of the year, so it wouldn’t hurt if you went inside now, it would give you a chance to peek into Sujin’s classrooms and see what he’s been up to. If it’s one thing he loves, it’s learning.

Mr. Kim and Mrs. Min have adjoining classrooms at the end of the hall for Sujin’s grade, a storage and supply closet connecting the two rooms. The door to Mrs. Min’s room is closed but the light is still on inside. You take a quick peek through the view window on the door and see colorful drawings and paper projects hanging on the wall, books scattered across a few tables, and a large container of art supplies opened on her desk. She teaches English, Reading, Art, and History while Namjoon covers Math and Science.

The gym teacher, Mr. Jeon, startles you as he breezes through the double doors at the end of the hall that lead out to the playground. “Oh, hey! Sujin, your mom is here!” he calls, stepping back and propping the door open with the heel of his sneaker.

“Mom!” you hear Sujin’s voice sound from through the open door. “You gotta come see this!”

Mr. Jeon holds the door open for you, his face lit with a pleasant smile. “A future scientist, I’d bet,” Mr. Jeon stage-whispers as you pass him and that makes your own smile blossom further.

“What’s going on, buddy?” you ask, taking in the scene before you.

Namjoon is crouched down beside Sujin, helping him sort through a collection of rocks spread out on a sheet of plastic. There are dozens of them, all various shapes and colors.

Sujin excitedly points out a few of the large rocks. “These would be perfect to create a hiding space!” he loudly proclaims before turning his bright eyes up to you. “Mr. Kim is letting me help him choose the rocks to go into the terrarium. We’re going to get our very own class salamander! Isn’t that cool, Mom? A class dragon!”

A soft chuckle comes from Namjoon as he pivots on his heels and squints up at you, the sun catching on the thick-framed glasses that are slipping down his nose. “We had so much fun yesterday talking about the salamander that was brought into Mrs. Min’s class that I couldn’t resist. I’ve had this old aquarium sitting in my garage for years, it just seems perfect.”

“Wow, yeah, that’s really cool.”

“Sorry for keeping him,” Namjoon suddenly stands, shoving his hands in his pockets and looking contrite. “I didn’t realize the bell had rung until Jungkook said something.” He turns to Sujin who is happily stacking a few of the smaller rocks into a pile. “I think that’s all for today, Sujin. We’ll finish it up tomorrow during class.”

Sujin frowns, his warm brown eyes flicking to Namjoon. “Okay,” he sighs.

“I tell you what, for all your hard work today, how about I let you be creative director during assembly tomorrow? Does that sound okay?”

The frown is quickly replaced with another excited smile. Sujin gives a whoop of delight and slaps his hands together before dusting them off. “Thank you, Mr. Kim, that sounds amazing!”

Seeing the interaction between Namjoon and Sujin gives you an idea, one that you hope you won’t regret. “Go grab your backpack, buddy, I’ll meet you outside Mrs. Min’s room in a second.”

“Yes, ma’am!” Sujin pulls open the door and scampers through, his sneakers squeaking on the tiled floor as he skips down the hall.

“Thank you for that, Namjoon, really. He was so excited about what happened yesterday and now this? He’s been wanting a turtle for a year now, so this will be a good test on whether or not we should get one.”

Namjoon pulls one of his hands out of his pocket and grips the back of his neck as he smiles shyly, his cheeks pinking slightly. “He’s a great kid, loves to learn. Though, turtles are a bit more needy than salamanders. It would also depend on the type of turtle. The standard box turtles are…” Namjoon trails off, his brow pinching as he throws furtive glances your way. “Sorry, you didn’t ask for a science lesson.”

That makes you laugh, which seems to ease the awkward tension in Namjoon. “Sujin isn’t the only one that likes learning.” You don’t intend the words to sound flirty, but they come out that way and you can distinctly tell that Namjoon keys into that.

“Yeah?” he asks, the shyness leeching away by the second.

“Um, yeah. Er, well, I should—” you jerk your thumb over your shoulder toward the door “—Sujin is probably waiting.”

“Oh, yeah, of course.” Namjoon sidesteps over the plastic sheet of rocks and fumbles with the door handle before yanking it open. “Have a good—”

“Are you free Friday night?” you blurt, wincing at the rudeness of interrupting him but knowing if you don’t ask now then you’ll lose your nerve.

“Friday?” he parrots back, eyes wide behind his glasses.

Panic slices through and you immediately want to take it back. “Sorry, that was—I didn’t, it’s not appropriate is it? I’m so sor—”

“I’m free,” he states, the words silencing your backpedaling.

“Oh.” Now that he’s confirmed, you’re not sure what else to say. It’s been so long since you’ve done this.

“Is there something you wanted to do?” Namjoon asks hesitantly, clearly picking up on your trepidation.

You swallow around the choking feeling in your throat, the one that’s ingrained with the idea that you’re still married and still madly in love with another man and this is akin to cheating. “Maybe dinner? Or a late coffee? Um, or…I’m sorry, it’s been so long since I’ve done this.”

Namjoon gives you an easy smile. “Dinner sounds great. Let’s say, seven?”

“Seven is good. How about that new pizza place that opened up near the park, do you know the one?”

“I’ve had my eye on that place for weeks! That sounds perfect.”

Are you really going on a date…with Sujin’s Science teacher? “Okay,” you say, chewing the inside of your cheek as you take a few steps down the hall. “Great.”

“Great,” Namjoon confirms with a smile, his deep dimples making an appearance. “See you then.”

All you can do is nod, not trusting yourself with any more words with the influx of emotions now swirling through you. Sujin bursts through Mrs. Min’s door, his backpack and lunchbox in tow.

“Let’s go!” he trumpets, thrusting his free hand into the air in a fist. “I’ve got some homework to do before I can work on my diagram for the terrarium!”

Namjoon’s soft chuckle carries to you from down the hall as you usher Sujin towards the exit. You can’t help casting one last glance behind you, taking in the way he’s lazily leaning against the doorframe of his classroom. He’s quite handsome, there’s no arguing that.

A giddy feeling adds itself to the uncertain emotions rolling through you. A fluttering in your tummy that you haven’t felt in over seven years. You can’t help but wonder, as you load Sujin into the car, if this is really what Yejun wants for you or are you making a mistake?

💔💔💔

Taehyung

It’s a weird sensation when you expect to feel one emotion but end up feeling another. That’s what Taehyung thinks anyway, as he reads the text message he received from you for the dozenth time. You have a date. With Namjoon.

Taehyung has never met the quirky Science teacher, but he’s heard plenty of stories about him from Sujin. Charming, educated, and completely and utterly perfect for you. And that should make Taehyung happy. Yet, all he can feel is mild annoyance when he thinks about Namjoon sitting across from you at a dinner table making you laugh and smile.

He wants to chalk it up to being overprotective in a brotherly sort of way, but Taehyung knows better. It’s no secret—well maybe it is to you—that Taehyung cares for you deeply. Even before Yejun, Taehyung always had a soft spot for his best friend’s wife. Something that he drunkenly confessed to Yejun once a few years ago. Yejun took it goodnaturedly, something that Taehyung still thinks about to this day, and simply told Taehyung he understood the attraction because hell, who could blame him?

They never talked about it again, until the day Yejun asked Taehyung to take care of you and Sujin—the day he was given a box of letters addressed to you. Yejun had given Taehyung a knowing smile and said something along the lines of fate knowing and that’s why Taehyung already had so much love for you.

He wasn’t sure, at first, if Yejun had ever shared Taehyung’s little secret with you. But, as time went on, it was clear that he hadn’t. That, or, so lost in your grief, you’ve been keenly uninterested in that prospect. But, now, you’re going on a date and Taehyung doesn’t know how to feel about it.

The twinge of jealousy in his chest doesn’t sit right with him. He has no right to feel this way. It’s just something that he can’t seem to shake, hasn’t been able to since you told him about it two days ago. So, instead of expressing that, he forces himself to try and share in your joy.

That’s great. Let me know when you’re home, I have something for you.

A letter perhaps??

Your eager reply makes him smile despite himself. If anything, that helps his mood to improve. The ‘first date’ letter is already sitting on his counter, waiting.

Perhaps. Now stop texting me and go have fun.

There is no reply to that. So, Taehyung waits patiently, phone in hand. Hours pass in a mindless, sluggish way. He’s far too wound up to do anything productive but also has nervous energy that needs to be released. So, Taehyung spends the four hours it takes for you to finally respond by squeaking out haphazard notes on the alto saxophone he’s taken to trying to learn to play.

His phone lights up where it sits on the coffee table and he nearly drops the instrument in his haste to snatch up the device.

I’m home.

That’s all it says and it makes Taehyung frown. Not that he expected you to tell him how the date went over text message, but he was anticipating something more than just those two words. He is startled to realize just how late it is, though, being past eleven already.

Is it too late? I can always just swing by tomorrow.

Sujin is staying with mom. It’s not too late.

Taehyung is contemplating his reply when another text from you pops up that makes him drop everything else and grab his car keys, not caring it’ll be close to midnight by the time he pulls up outside your apartment. It was a knee-jerk reaction to also grab the letter that was sitting beside his keys, but now he’s thinking about whether or not it’s a good idea.

Those thoughts quickly fade as he focuses on the road, intent on reaching your apartment in record time. His phone sits on the passenger seat, still open to your text thread, the single word might as well be an alarm blaring to Taehyung, urging him on faster.

Please.

💔💔💔

As soon as you send the last text message you want to take it back. Not only do you feel whiny, but you know Taehyung will drop everything and come over which makes you feel terrible and like you’re using him.

But, fuck. The date was so horrible all you want to do is crawl into familiar, comforting arms and cry yourself to sleep. You’re about to pour your third glass of wine when there is a sudden knock on the door, followed by it swinging open. Taehyung stands there with your spare key in his hand, eyes wide with concern.

“Are you okay?” he asks, breathless as he clearly sprinted up the stairs to get here and now you feel infinitely worse for it.

You shake your head which earns you a pained sound from Taehyung but you hold up your hand, silencing him. “I’m not shaking my head no as in no I’m not fine, it’s more a I’m such a fool head shake. I’m sorry, Tae. I’m fine. I shouldn’t have said anything, I just—”

“I’m glad you said something. What happened? Do I need to go pay a certain science teacher a visit?” For all his bravado, you know he wouldn’t hesitate if you said yes.

“No, no. It’s not his fault. Well, not entirely. Look, I’m sorry you drove all the way over here.” You discard the empty wine glass in favor of taking a large glug directly from the bottle.

“Hey, hey,” Taehyung says, deftly taking the bottle from your hands before you have the chance to take a second gulp from it. “Stop apologizing and tell me what’s wrong.”

“It was a fucking disaster.”

If Taehyung is surprised by your cussing, he doesn’t show it. Instead, he stills beside you, brow slowly pinching and forming deep furrows between them. “Did he hurt you?” he whispers, but his tone is cold and hard. “I’ll kill him.”

“What? What, oh no, Tae, no. He didn’t hurt me, god no.” You sigh, propping your hip against the lip of the counter and wrapping your arms around your middle. “He was lovely, actually. I was the disaster. Or maybe we were. I don’t know, it was just a terrible night. A terrible idea.”

“Talk to me about it,” Taehyung encourages, his hands landing lightly on your shoulders to steer you toward the couch in the living room.

So, you spend the next hour recounting all the horrid details for him. Everything from the way Namjoon wouldn’t stop talking about rocks and mineralized dirt to the way he tried to kiss you at the end of the night only for you to duck and him to lose his balance, effectively making him face plant into the brick wall of your apartment building.

“See, it was a terrible idea,” you lament, letting out a frustrated sigh.

Taehyung hums softly. “It doesn’t sound like a complete disaster to me. Namjoon was polite, even if he did nothing but talk about his own interests. Did you try changing the subject, or did he ask about you and you gave a dismissive answer?” You give Taehyung an annoyed look. “I’m just saying, you have the tendency to avoid things like that. So, it’s only meant as a means to try and understand. Maybe it can be better next time.”

“There won’t be a next time.” You throw up your hands in defeat. “He said he had a lovely time, but I could see it plain on his face, he was just trying to be nice. He left with a bloody napkin pressed against his mouth for crying out loud!”

“Well, maybe he really—”

“But, most of all,” you continue, speaking over Taehyung, “I didn’t have a good time. I don’t want to do it again. It didn’t make me happy.”

That seems to subdue Taehyung. “Oh,” he says, nodding slowly. “Well, okay, that’s different.”

“I’m broken, defective.”

Taehyung scoffs, giving you a withering look a moment before dragging you into his arms, squeezing you tightly. “You’re not defective. You’re human. All this proves is that maybe the science teacher isn’t the guy for you. Simply just a lack of…chemistry.”

You can’t help but laugh at his bad joke. “You’re terrible,” you say in a lighter tone, meant to tease more than chastise. “But, you’re right, I guess. I just…this was the first date I’ve been on in a long time and it all went so horribly. It’s hard not to think that I somehow messed up, that I’m just…not right, just broken, y’know?” Taehyung’s eyes are soft as you look up at him, trying hard not to let yourself grow too accustomed to the comforting feel of his arms around your shoulders.

“You are perfect, most certainly not broken,” he whispers. You watch from beneath your lashes as a small crease etches across his forehead and you can tell he’s warring with himself over something before he slowly presses a soft kiss against the side of your head. “You just have to give yourself grace. I’m proud of you.” As he says that last part, he gently pulls back, hands resting on your shoulders. His right hand trails down your arm and you feel the soft caress of paper against the back of your hand. “Yejun would be proud of you, too, taking as big of a step as you have, I just know it.”

The envelope is small, but you instantly recognize the shape and feel of the paper. It’s just like the one you got earlier this week—like the one from two years ago. “Should I wait to read it?” you ask, not really expecting an answer.

“I’ll leave if you’d like some privacy.”

And in that moment you realize that’s the last thing you want. “No, please stay. Umm, that is, unless you have something to do.” It’s after midnight, the sour twist of jealousy rears as you think of everything that could possibly take Taehyung away at this hour. You tamp it down, knowing you have no right to keep him here, regardless. “I’m okay, I promise.”

Taehyung’s lip twitches as you wait for him to answer. He shakes his head. “No, I have nothing else to do. I can’t promise I won’t end up crashing on your couch, though,” he says, stifling a yawn in his elbow before lacing his fingers behind his head and stretching out. “I’m here as long as you need me.”

“Thank you,” you whisper, grabbing a blanket from the back of the couch and spreading it out over Taehyung’s legs before curling up on the opposite end of the couch. Taehyung shifts around the blanket with his feet, making sure the other end covers your legs as well.

“Don’t have to thank me,” he sighs sleepily. “I just want to make you happy.”

You’re not sure if he misspoke, because surely he meant only that he wants to see you happy. Because, as it is, him saying he wants to make you happy…well, that does something funny to you. Though, you can probably blame that on the terrible date with Namjoon or the half a bottle of wine you drank. Either way, you can’t help but smile as you look at Taehyung laying on the other end of your couch, eyes closed, and chest rising and falling with deep, even breathing.

You take a moment, running back over the date with Namjoon in your head, fingers idly moving along the edge of the envelope. It started out so nicely, Namjoon standing outside your apartment with a bouquet of flowers. They made your nose itch and your eyes water a bit from how overly fragrant they were—clearly some mass grown clippings from a supermarket—but you smiled anyway, appreciating the gesture.

Dinner was lovely, the new restaurant proving to be worth the drive and money spent. It’s perhaps your own fault for thinking Namjoon might pay for the meal and it didn’t hurt you any to pay for your own, but it felt oddly…impersonal? Less like a date and more like a business meeting or something. You’re not too old to be naive in the sense that women are just as capable of paying for dinner as men, as well as the fact that men shouldn’t hold the complete burden of expense on dates. It’s just…it was unusual and he didn’t even bring it up, simply told the waiter to split the check before it was brought.

It’s not helped by the fact that Namjoon wouldn’t stop talking about work or soil deposits. And perhaps Taehyung was at least half right in the fact that you didn’t put forth a lot of effort to change the subject, but the way you see it, if Namjoon was interested in knowing about you, he would have asked. Though, is that expecting too much? Are you being too harsh? Maybe you’re projecting and Namjoon really wasn’t that bad.

Before you can continue to spiral any further, you force your thoughts to the letter in your hand. Hoping it’ll put your ill heart at ease, you extract the folded parchment and smooth it out.

To the love of my life, For after your first date Hi, baby. First, I want to say that I love you. Second, I hope he at least made you smile. If he didn’t bring you flowers or even those cheap ones from the supermarket, don’t think too much of it. I’ll let you in on a little guy secret, not all of us are well versed on flora and even less so on women. Even if it didn’t go so well, though I hope it did, you can’t give up. Go on another date, with the same person or someone else, you just can’t stop now. Take as many adventures as you can, do something spontaneous. You never did take that dance class you wanted to a few years ago. Paint, travel, explore the world. Take Sujin to places we never got to go. Just don’t stop, keep turning, even if it’s slowly. I’m so proud of you, you know? No matter what, I know you’re going to be okay. You’re going to make it. I can’t wait to see all you do. You’re going to be wonderful. You’re amazing, keep shining, baby. I love you so much. Forever With You, Your Yejun

Tucking the letter against your heart, you snuggle down in the couch, mind racing. You feel lighter somehow, like Yejun’s words have given you far more affirmation than you thought possible. The terrible date doesn’t seem so disastrous now.

“You okay?”

You startle at the soft question, thinking Taehyung was fast asleep. His eyes are barely cracked open, peering at you over his bent, blanket-covered knees.

“Mm, yeah. I think so,” you say after clearing your throat.

“Good…good,” Taehyung murmurs, his eyes falling shut once more.

“Hey, Tae?”

“Hmm?” His eyebrows raise but he doesn’t open his eyes. You take a moment to truly see him, the soft light from the stand lamp on the other side of the room illuminating him in profile. The soft curve of his cheek, the delicate slope of his nose, and the pouty bow of his lips aren’t new features, but you’re not sure you’ve ever truly paid attention to how breathtakingly handsome he is.

“Will you help me?”

Taehyung’s lips twitch as a mild frown turns down his lips. “Help you?”

“With whatever comes next.”

“Whatever you need, I’m yours,” he mumbles, a soft smile replacing his frown. You watch him for a moment longer, his lips going even softer as the smile fades with sleep. His chest rises and falls, your eyes tracking the motion in the dim lighting until you feel the pull of sleep yourself. Taehyung is the last thing you see before you close your eyes, and for the first time in over two years, you sleep peacefully; with a subtle warmth blooming in your chest where once there was only cold.

Next Chapter⇾ (coming soon!) ◅ Back to story masterlist

◅ Back to Main Master List ©️ 2024-03-18 ColorMePurplex2

#taehyung x reader #bts taehyung #taehyung smut #taehyung angst #taehyung fluff #taehyung fanfic #taehyung imagines #bts fanfic #bts smut #bts angst #bts fluff #kim taehyung #bts non idol au #bts imagines #bangtanwhq

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jungkookslipring · 1 year ago

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This is Home

summary: reader's house no longer feels like home, but she has her best friends to help her escape.

pairings: Yeosang + San + Wooyoung x Reader (w/ mentions of OT8)

relationship: Platonic

genre: hurt/comfort

tw: mentions of depression, crying, mentally/verbally abusive parents. If any of this is triggering I would steer more towards my happier fics. Please be kind to yourself<3

It wasn’t uncommon for you to show up unannounced at your friends’ apartment, especially late at night, but this time, it was different. This time you ASKED if you could come over. The group chat was only used to send memes, nothing more nothing less.

~8 makes 1 Team + y/n~

You: ‘Can I come over please?’

Your phone immediately started ringing, and San’s profile pic popped up on your screen.

“Y/n? You alright?” he asked. You bit your lip, shaking your head.

“Would you like us to come get you?” He asked quietly. He was assuming you were trying to keep quiet. You hum in a disagreement, cause if you talk you’ll lose it.

“We’ll unlock the door, come over whenever you’re ready,” he whispered. You sniffled, hanging up and trying to catch your breath. You packed up an overnight bag and tiptoed out of your bedroom and out the door. The drive was short, blessed that they lived only 10 minutes away from you. You walked up to the door and knocked quietly it was midnight, so there was a chance everyone was awake or asleep except for San. The door opened, San’s face full of worry.

“You normally don’t knock either, Y/n,” he said with a worried chuckle. Everything you were doing was beyond out of character. You sucked in your cheek, trying to will the stinging behind your eyes. San pulled you into the warm apartment out of the freezing weather.

“Here let’s get you out of this,” he whispered, taking off your winter coat.

“Is every one asleep?” you ask. San nodded.

“Yeah but they’re heavy sleepers I’m sure if you ran around screaming like a banshee they’d be dead asleep,” he joked, trying to lighten the mood. You couldn’t help but smile at the efforts San was making. You saw the couch had a few pillows and a couple of blankets, where you normally slept. You put your bag down and got ready to sit down. San gently stopped you.

“You can take the bedroom, Woo and I are going to be out here,” he said. You looked at him in disbelief.

“What? Sannie, no, that's your guys' room.”

“We want you to have your privacy,” he said kindly. Wooyoung stepped out of the room with worry in his eyes. You were so used to him nearly breaking the furniture and decor to tackle you into a hug, so you weren’t used to him walking up to you slowly but with urgency.

“You okay?” He asked quietly. You bit your trembling lip, your vision blurring when Wooyoung touched your shoulder.

“Oh come here…” Wooyoung said, pulling you into his arms, San joining shortly after.

“Do you want to talk about it,” San asked, rubbing his hand up and down your back. You shook your head sniffling. You weren’t ready yet.

“If you want to talk about it we’re here, for now, let’s get you in bed,” San said, patting your head. You nodded while Wooyoung wiped your eyes. San had already grabbed your bag and took it to the bedroom. Wooyoung gave you one more squeeze before he got settled under the blankets on the pullout bed. You made your way to San and Wooyoung’s shared bedroom, giving San one more hug before you got under the covers.

“Let us know if you need anything,” San said, squeezing your hand. You nodded before turning over in the bed, almost immediately falling asleep.

The next morning you woke up feeling groggy. Your eyes were swollen from the tears you let fall when you got into bed. You checked your phone, seeing it was 9 am, everyone was probably awake by now. Normally, you would hear people stomping around, voices loud, just chaotic, but it was something you were used to. What you weren’t used to was it being super quiet. You heard footsteps but it sounded more like tiptoeing. You were brought out of your thoughts when there was a small knock at the door. Judging by the knock you knew who it was.

“Hi, Yeosang,” you called quietly. A timid “hi” was at the other end of the door.

“You can come in, Sangie, it's okay,” you say from your bed. The door knob slowly turned and in came Yeonsang.

“What time did you get here last night?” He asked as he came and sat at the end of San’s bed.

“Around midnight, I think everyone was asleep except for Sannie and Woo,” you said. He hummed as he tapped your foot.

“Did something happen?” he asked carefully. He didn’t want to push you if you weren’t ready. You nodded, trying to hold it together.

“Is it your dad?” he asked. You bit your lip and blinked back the tears. Wordlessly, Yeosang came and sat next to you, pulling you into a hug, but making sure you stayed warm under the blankets.

“We were worried when we saw your text, wasn’t very on brand of you to ask to come over,” he said comically but with a sad tone. He and San were right; because they started leaving their door unlocked so you could waltz right in because you would stand and knock repeatedly on the door or ring the doorbell till it was close to breaking. You sighed and decided that if you didn’t say something now, you probably wouldn’t later. You let Yeosang in on everything, telling him what had happened, and he didn’t speak a word until you were done, heartbroken seeing you so hurt.

“He had no right saying that about you, you know that right?” he asked. You were torn because you had the “I don’t give a fuck what you say” energy but you’re still human, and cruel words from anyone hurt, let alone your own family. Yeosang was alarmed by the lack of response, and he slowly turned his head towards you.

“He had no right, Y/n, what he said was not true,” he said with more confidence this time. You nodded because Yeosang was a man of very few words but when it came to the ones he loved, he would do and say anything to protect them. Shortly after his little speech, he offered to go refill your water jug, and not too long after, there was a small knock at the door, it was San and Wooyoung.

“How are you feeling, Y/n?” Wooyoung asked. You shook your head.

“Not great, I just told Yeosang what happened,” you said rubbing your eyes.

“Are you okay with sharing what happened? If it's just him that knows it’s okay!” he reassured seconds before Yeosang walked in with your water jug that was now filled with ice cold water. You took a swig and set it on the bedside table.

“I can tell you,” you croak, already feeling yourself choke up again. Everyone made their way onto the bed and you told them everything. While you explained your story, tears coated your cheeks and it took them everything in them not to get angry. They were appalled by what they were hearing, but also so sad seeing you hurt.

“Y/n… you do have respect for yourself. Everything negative your father says about you is wrong,” San says as he wipes your eyes. Wooyoung rubbed a thumb over your hand while your head rested on Yeosang’s shoulder.

“It just sucks…*sniff* the one permanent safe space, my home, doesn’t even feel like a safe space anymore,” you say before breaking down in Yeosang’s arms. Yeosang’s heart hurt while San and Wooyoung saw red. How dare the person who is supposed to be a role model, a friend, or a PARENT, not make your home a safe space. They let you cry for as long as you needed and didn’t dare speak a word until your cries were reduced to sniffles and the occasional hiccup.

“How can we help, Y/n?” Yeosang asked. You shrugged, because what can you do? The damage was done.

“Unless you know how to magically reverse emotional damage, I don’t know… I just don’t know anymore,” you whisper, feeling so defeated.

“Well, is there anything we can do for you now?” Wooyoung asked. You shook your head.

“I just don’t want to go home…I don’t feel safe,” you whisper, your vision blurring again. The boys gave each other knowing looks, clearly able to read each other’s minds.

“You are more than welcome to stay as long as you need to, and if you truly don’t want to go home, you are more than welcome to move in,” San said confidently. Your eyes almost bulged out of your head.

“Guys…no, this is your space… there are 8 of you already living here!” you say in disbelief.

“What’s one more?” Yeosang asks. You couldn’t believe what you were hearing. You put a hand over your mouth and tears of happiness started flowing,

“Don’t you make me cry now!” Wooyoung exclaimed while he was looking up at the ceiling blinking back the moisture in his eyes.

“Take all the time you need, okay? Let us know and we will support you no matter what,” San said before all of them pulled you into a group hug.

“I love you all so much,” you said tearfully. They said it back, and when you heard them say it, you knew they meant it. Your house may have been where you lived, but in this space, this was home.

taglist: @felixmainacc @felixburneracc @myforevermelody143 @dunno-wut-to-do @itzsana-kiddingmenow

#ateez san #ateez yeosang #ateez wooyoung #ateez hurt/comfort #ateez #ateezedit #ateez fanfic #ateez fic #ateez x reader #ateez imagines #atz fic #hurt/comfort #kpop

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icaruspendragon · 1 year ago

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yeah yeah i question the romanticization of every little thing as much as the next cynically-inclined gal but like. there really is beauty everywhere. it is kinda refreshing to let bitches be whimsical. to let yourself be a bitch with a penchant for whimsy. because sometimes the only thing that eases the heaviness put in my stomach by the abject horrors is when my friends come over on tuesdays and i get to make them dinner. when i’m drinking a glass of wine and making pasta and dancing to bluegrass in my kitchen and i hear laughter from the other room. like it really is okay to let the little things warm you.

and i know i have a reputation of goodness and kindness and resilience and whatever so i’m sure you’re thinking “that’s so easy for you to say!” but i had to work for that shit. i had to fight for a sunny disposition.

my dad was never around, always choosing women and booze over me and my brother. i was the weird kid people bullied practically my entire time in school. i’m an addict who was forced kicking and screaming into sobriety. i was assaulted in college and the university didn’t believe me. i’ve got depression and insomnia and severe anxiety and panic disorder. i’ve been on 23 different antidepressants/anxiety meds/mood stabilizers over the past 15 years and none of them have worked and sometimes i’m afraid that i’m meant to be sad forever. sometimes i worry that i’ve never actually been happy. my brother died from suicide on my 25th birthday and there wasn’t even a note. i’m well aware of how awful the world can be. of how terrible shit can get.

and i know it’s not life changing or revolutionary, but damnit, i’m going to get excited when i’m reading a fanfic and the two characters finally kiss. i’m going to laugh when my brother tells me a dumb joke. i’m going to let my heart swell while i’m wearing my flour covered apron, when i’m leaning against the doorway to my dining room, holding my glass of wine curled close to my chest while my friends are eating happily and i’ve finally perfected my gnocchi recipe and all the people i love are happy and safe and full of food i prepared with my own two hands as they sit around my table.

the world has not been kind to me but i’ll be damned if i let it continue to make me hard. i deserve softness. i deserve sweetness. i deserve gentle moments. and if the world won’t give them to me? fine. i’ll make them myself.

so yeah, i often wanna scoff when i see someone stop to smell the roses. but i don’t. because the world is so fucking hard. and i don’t see the point in making it harder on ourselves. it’s so much easier to be numb. to be jaded and bitter. to think of my heart as a wretched organ trapped by a terrible vise of a bone. but then i see sunlight filtering through leaves and it makes me smile and i feel my heart beating and i remember i may be small and i may be fleeting, but i’m alive. and my heart, that wretched organ, beats defiant and persistent in my chest. and the sunlight tells me courage, poor stupid heart of stone, and it makes me brave in a world that makes me ache.

so i will be whimsical and silly and happy despite it all, because if i don’t have that, what the hell do i have?

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imtryingbuck · 6 days ago

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Still beautiful

~ gif not mine credit to owner ~

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x fem!Reader

Summary: you have self harm scars but Bucky doesn’t care

Word count: 1,157

Warnings: self harm scars. insecurities. mentions of mental health issues (depression). swearing. Bucky being the best. this is mainly me just going through some shit sorry.

Masterlist

You always covered your arms up no matter the weather, everyone would see you wearing a long sleeved shirt or jumpers even on the hottest days, people would wonder why but never asked which you were grateful for.

It wasn’t that you were ashamed of your scars it’s just you couldn’t deal with the pity looks or hearing the words ‘you can always talk to me’ anymore, the looks of pity never helped always making you feel worse about the scars and those words were never true. You couldn’t talk to anyone because half of the time you didn’t understand it yourself.

Being diagnosed with depression as a teenager you didn’t know what it really meant and when you asked the doctor he looked at you and told you that you’re just sad. And while yes sometimes that was the case you knew that it wasn’t the full truth, but trying to understand an illness that was different for everyone was difficult.

Self harming was a terrible way to deal with the emotions but it gave you that sense of relief even if it was for a few moments. You tried so many different techniques to try and get yourself from hurting yourself such as drawing on your skin, writing letters, baking, exercising, everything really that was written down on a website you had found. But sadly these things only helped for a little while.

Like I said you wasn’t ashamed of the scars because you had no reason to but covering them up was better.

Nobody was supposed to see them ever. Until one person did.

Bucky was told by Nat to go and fetch you for dinner as it was nearly done, he was waiting patiently for you to answer the door after he knocked, getting no response he repeated the action.

“Y/n? You in?”

Wrapping his hand around the door handle he prayed silently that you was in, he stood there as the door pushed open to scared to go in fully as he thought he was violating your trust and privacy. Calling out your name a few more times he ended up going in after he heard the soft tunes, knowing for a full fact that you had your headphones on.

Bucky has always thought you were beautiful, right from the second he met you but seeing you sitting at the desk as you drew another masterpiece as he always called your artwork he leant against the door thinking that there wasn’t a perfect word to describe how you looked right there in that moment.

Then his heart clenched painfully in his chest.

For the first time since him joining the team had he seen your bare arms. His eyes going from the pencil to the fingers wrapped around it, to your hand and up the piece of skin that nobody ever saw. Bucky had his own scars, both mental and physical, so he knew what the angry, raised marks were.

His heart clenched painfully at the thought of you hurting yourself in such a way, he can’t help but wonder why or what was going through your head as you sliced your skin.

He was pulled out of his thoughts when he flinched at hearing your screams.

“B-Bucky? W-what are you doing in my room?”

“Why?”

“What?”

“Why? Why would you hurt yourself?”

“I… I don’t know.” He watches as you tap the side of your head before tucking both arms behind your back. “It helps, I guess.”

“Doll-“

“I don’t want to hear it Bucky. Not from you. Please.”

“But you know it’s true though, don’t you?”

“I can’t, you have your own shit to deal with and I can’t put my shit on you. It isn’t fair.”

With quick steps Bucky stands in front of you, pulling your arms out so he can hold them, his thumbs rub over the scars. “Doll. Y/n, the whole world could be burning down around us and I’m still gonna want to know what’s going on in that pretty head of yours, I want to know how you are feeling on your best and worst days, I want to be there.”

“But it isn’t fair.”

“It’s not fair that you think you have to suffer alone, baby I’m right here, always… well until you tell me to leave.” He mumbled the last part in hopes that you didn’t hear, because he was so afraid that you would tell him to leave and he really didn’t want to keep loving you from afar but he was too afraid to say anything incase you didn’t feel the same way.

“Maybe one day but not today, please.” You knew that if there was ever going to be a person who would be there for you no matter what, you knew that person would always be Bucky.

And that’s one of the reasons why you fell in love with him.

“Whenever you are ready.” He squeezed your hand, bringing one to his lips and gently kissed your knuckles. “You’re so beautiful, do you know that?”

You scoff, shaking your head. “The sc-“

“Still beautiful. Still so so beautiful.” In that moment Bucky wanted to kiss you, the urge to take a hold of your face gently in his hands and press his lips against yours had his heart rate spiking but he couldn’t bring himself to do it, so instead he cleared his throat hoping that his thoughts would clear too. “Come, dinners done.”

When you walked hand in hand with Bucky into the dining room where everyone was waiting you felt the need to run back into your room and grab a jumper, but it was as if Bucky could read your mind as he squeezed your hand lightly and gave you a soft smile.

Your found family saw the scars but none of them made a comment, their eyes mainly focused on your intertwined fingers with the super solider next to you. Bucky led the two of you towards the table, sitting down and practically pulling you along with him.

The once quiet room soon became loud as everyone began talking about everything and anything, Bucky couldn’t take his eyes off you, he was so proud to see you sitting there only in a vest shirt instead of your usual long sleeved shirts, he understood that it was probably a massive step for you and for that he was proud.

Little did he know that you wanted him to kiss you when the two of you was in your bedroom, little did he know that when his eyes weren’t on you your eyes were on him.

Seeing his hand on his thigh you moved your hand to his, Bucky turned his hand upward so you could link your fingers with his.

Maybe one day you both will find the courage to confess your feelings but until then you’ll continue loving each other from afar.

Tags: @imcinnamoons | @pigeonmama | @capsbestgirl77

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outivv · 2 years ago

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— what about your own world? —

Synopsis: they ask what your life was like in your own world

Warnings: ehhh semi angst? Semi fluff? Crying, and Idk if I should put a warning for this- but a single mention of death in sebek’s Part, But, as always not proofread :p

Characters: deuce, idia, Sebek, And malleus

Pronouns for reader: gender neutral/ not mentioned

A/n: hello hello!! I’ve been on big idia and Sebek brain rot recently, I may honestly weite another thing for them later too HEVJEEG. Theyre both one my favorites what can I say. Anyways, hope you enjoy!! Have a great rest of your day <3

— Deuce —

“What was your life back… you know… back home?” Deuce asks. You’re supposed to be fetching ingredients for a potion you need to make in class, but deuce has seemed… distant, or maybe distracted, this entire time. Now you know why, of course. “Why do you ask that.” You dont look at him, reaching for a jar full of specific bird feathers, which are very important for this potion. The rows and rows of bookshelves full of jars, full of ingredients, were the only audience to hear your conversation, so you didn’t mind telling him what your life was like, however, you wondered why he would ask such a thing.

He thought for a moment, as you climbed down the ladder you were on, and handed him the jar of feathers. “Well I was just thinking. Cause you’ve been here for almost a whole year, Crowley must be close to finding a way for you to go back home.” Deuce walked down the row of shelves to the next ingredient you needed as he spoke. He’s right, you’ve been here a long while, and Crowley must be close to getting you home by now… (but you’re not too… trusting of that. Despite what Crowley may say.) was deuce worried about you going home?

“Well, even if he does find a way for me to head back home, I’m not so sure I’d take that opportunity.” Deuce whips his head around, almost dropping all the jars He was holding. You quickly put you arms around his own, to secure the jars, giving him a look that screams ‘oh my god- please be more careful’. He looked away embarrassed, “why not?” Referring to what you said before. “Hmm, well, I like my life here. And back home wasn’t all that great so. If I could pursue something here, be happy… keep all my friends, stay with you, then I’d rather do that than be somewhere where I wasn’t… enjoying myself I suppose.” Deuce teared up at that, he can be very dramatic at times… “are you crying?” He quickly turned around hiding his tears as he kept walking “no! Just allergic to whatever is in these jars.” He said in between sniffles. You sighed trailing behind him. If you had any doubts before you certainly don’t now, as it’s clear you can’t leave deuce alone.

— Idia —

Idia is insecure with your… relationship. God he can barely even call it that. He feels like he barely even does anything… why would you put up with him? He’s sure that the moment Crowley found a way for you to go home, that you’d be jumping at the opportunity. He holed himself in his room even more than usual, and you, as his partner, of course noticed. A few days into his depression spiral, Idia heard a familiar knock on his door, followed by a voice, “idia? Can I come in.” It was you, of course. The only people allowed in his room are you and ortho, and ortho doesn’t really knock. “Yeah…” He Said Just loud enough for you to hear.

Upon entering, you could see idia wasn’t even gaming at his desk like usual, instead sitting in his bed, curled up in blankets upon blankets, scrolling on his phone. His room was dark without the light of his computer, you could barely see him, as his hair was mostly hidden in the blanket, and his phone was the only thing illuminating his face. “Idia? What’s wrong.” You said walking over to sit on the edge of his bed. You moved the blanket off from over his head, revealing some of his fiery blue hair, and running your fingers through it. “What was your life like back in your own world.” His cold tone made you widen your eyes. He doesn’t ever take that tone with you, only before your relationship started, and that was mostly because he was so anxious around you, being cold was kinda his default.

“What do you mean?” You tilted your head, And He quickly sat up his blue hair turning bright orange and red, as he screamed “your own world! Your home! When Crowley finds out how to get you back you’ll leave me, because that is your home. That is where you belong!” His words sounded harsh to anyone else, they sounded like he wanted you gone, like he wanted you to leave because you didn’t belong. But that wasn’t the case and you knew it. You could see how small he looked, his blankets open, revealing his shaky hands. Looking up at his face, surrounded by flame, you could see the tears welling in his eyes, his dark circles deeper than usual. Has this been bothering him for the past few days?

“Can I hug you?” You ask, as to not overwhelm him in a very intense moment for him. He nodded, and you slowly wrap your arms around him, he grips onto your jacket, and resting his head on your shoulder, wetting your uniform as tears start flowing. You don’t care about that though. “My life, in my world had It’s ups and downs. I have people there that I miss.” You started and he sobbed, and screamed harder, his mind spiraling, thinking your words confirm all that he’s been feeling, and thinking, the past few days. His hair reflecting his thoughts, as it started burning brighter, wrapping itself around you, but it never hurt, or burned you. “But. I love you more.” You start again, and idia grabs onto your jacket with both hands, one clawing at you back, while the other holds onto your front. He doesn’t want to let you go. “I know that no matter what Crowley finds, if I can’t return to you, then I won’t ever go back to my word.” Your arms wrap around him almost protectively, as he sobs out his feelings that he’s been keeping to himself for the past few days. Except, he knows you won’t leave him.

— Sebek —

Sebek loathes humans, he believes they are weak, and would pity them if he had the time to. But after meeting you, he’s found that humans aren’t weak, magicless or not, you have stopped 6 (almost 7 heh) overblotted students. That is quite a feat that even must admire. “You know [name] may return to their own world eventually right?” Lilia said, snapping Sebek from his thoughts of you. “What?” He furrowed his brows, Lilia cant believe that right? I mean… with the life you’ve built here and all… and with how close you two had become you won’t leave him right? “I’m sure [name] misses their family, friends, you know.” Lilia truthfully brought up this conversation because he wanted to see how Sebek would react.

Lilia knows that Sebek harbors feelings for you, whether sebek wants to admit it to himself or not. Lilia knows he is deep in denial. Sebek Looks down at the lunch table he’s sitting at, pondering. “I must go speak with them.” He suddenly Said, grabbing his bag, and lunch tray, to go search for you. He found you in the courtyard, you usually eat lunch there with grim, deuce, and ace. “Human!” Sebek shouted as he approached your Little group. Ace almost dropped his lunch at Sebek s booming voice, while deuce instantly looked ready to fight if Sebek made a single wrong move. “I need to speak to you. Alone.” He Said staring down at you, a very apparent scowl on his face. You looked at him like how he imagines a small animal looks seconds before death. “Uhh yeah for sure.” You respond, as you grab your bag, and put your lunch away. Leading inside, to a quiet hallway is when he starts asking questions, “are you planning on going back to your own world when Crowley… finds a way back for you…” straight to the Point as always, but you don’t miss the meek tone in his voice. A very sharp contrast from what he was portraying mere seconds ago.

“Uhhh I’m not sure yet, why?” You question, very very confused. Sebek puffs his chest out, almost smug, as he says “no reason. Goodbye now.” And walks away. You stand there absolutely confused out of your mind, and when you return to your friends, you just… sit there… for a moment. Later in the day however you overhear a specific someone talking to another specific someone “I told you [name] wouldn’t be leaving.” Sebek’s booming and prideful voice could be heard even though you were outside the classroom, “well you never specifically said that, but a win is a win I suppose.” Lilia said with a sigh, faking defeat, “but does them considering staying mean that you’ll be asking them out? May solidify their decision to stay here.” Sebek is frozen at Lilia’s words, to which Lilia only laughs. And when you walk into the classroom sebek’s face turns into a deep frown of shame, surprise, and absolute despair, to which you and Lilia absolutely lose it over.

— Malleus —

You cant leave him. You shouldn’t leave him. Malleus wants the one person who he has ever loved this way, to stay by his side, to rule with him, to love him as he loves you. Of course you aren’t… dating… yet, so he doesn’t have any way of telling you these feelings without sounding scary as hell, and Even he knows that. So he expresses it in a… less… obvious way I suppose. “[name]?” He asks, while you’re on one of your late night walks together. Usually he’s rambling on about the gothic architecture of the school, but Today he’s been unusually quiet. Until now of course. “Yes?” You ask, looking over at him where he was already looking right at you.

“What was your life like? Back in your realm, I mean.” He simply asks. You have to think on that for a minute actually, It’s such a strange question that you truthfully didn’t expect from malleus. It’s to the point where you wonder if there’s hidden meaning behind it. “Well, it was good for the most part. I mean… I miss my family, and friends, so that must show how good it was Haha” you say with a sad smile. You really have been feeling homesick these past few days, and malleus’s question kinda sent you over the edge. Before long, tears start falling from your face, malleus stops dead in his tracks to embrace you as soon as he realizes your crying.

He realizes you miss your own life, in your own realm, but He cant help but feel upset, and possessive. He wants you to stay with him, he wants you to love him the way he loves you, he wants to hold you like this forever if that’s what it took to keep you by him. “It’s alright, child of man.” Is the only thing that slips past his lips. He bites his tongue as to hold back all the words he wants to spew, about how he loves you, how you can stay here with him! And how he would miss you ever so dearly if you left… “I’m sure Crowley will find a way back for you.” His mouth grows dry at his own words, and his voice shakes. You look up at him, to see him not looking at you, but straight ahead, tears falling down his face. He wants to scream how much he loves you, how much he wants to protect you, but he can’t. He knew that would break your heart, and his own if he did.

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dame-zoom-a-lot · 2 days ago

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Under Pressure

@metalsandwichbingo prompt C2 Steve & Eddie want to keep their throuple a secret, Billy keeps making increasingly inappropriate comments in public Thank you @runraerun for the beta work <3 (almost makes up for making me lose like at least half a day of work with your fic these unspoken things) WC 4.5k Rating: G Read the full fic on Ao3 Summary: “So you’re the Eddie,” Heather confirms, pinching the bridge of her nose. “ The Eddie Billy flew out a window for,” she says, gesturing at a magazine cover in the center of their circle. Heather has a nice mahogany desk in her office. But for some reason, they’re all sitting on the floor around this stupid magazine like they’re trying to summon something. Namely, Billy at his lowest. The fucking picture of him on the magazine might as well be some sort of sleep paralysis demon. Billy’s greasy, unwashed curls are plastered to his head. His tank top is more stains than fabric. An uneven patch of scruffy hair on his face confirms that no, Billy should not grow a beard. A garish headline below the photo screams “ DICK WHIPPED! WHO ARE THESE AND EDDIE THAT’S RUINING SURFER DARLING’S LIFE?”

“What’s wrong with this title?” Jeff asks, nose wrinkled.

“Besides all of it?” Billy growls. He should have fucking… dumped sewage on those fucking paps stalking him outside his house... He still can .

“I mean yeah, like, this sucks, but why is it written like they meant to talk about two people and not just Eddie?”

“ Because,” Heather says through her teeth. “Mr. Steve Harrington here, the intended name before the and in this headline, is a Harrington .”

Steve curls into himself and mutters something about being disowned. Billy and Eddie shift so they’re pressing into him. Steve melts between them as Billy makes little circles on the small of Steve’s back the way he likes.

“Who’s that?” Doug, Corroded Coffin’s bassist, asks.

“Hair. Ring. Ton. The media mogul?” Heather says dryly. “They’re the ones that accused your concerts of being poorly disguised rituals to appease Sovi, the God of Evil? They made you famous?”

“Ohhh that Harrington,” Gareth, the band’s drummer, says with a grin. “Thanks Steve.”

Billy feels Steve flinch beneath his hand. “That wasn’t—” Billy starts.

“How fucking dare—” Eddie snarls at the same time.

“Shut up! All of you.” Heather abruptly stands tall. All the men in the room fall silent, craning their heads to look up at her. “Just so we’re on the same page. This Eddie ,” she says, brandishing the stupid tabloid article, “is the same Eddie who has to be your next lead guitarist.”

“Yep,” Jeff says calmly. Doug and Gareth nod.

“He had better riffs then all the supposed professionals we auditioned, and that’s when he had a full-time job!” Gareth says. “You and the label have been screaming at us to pick a guitarist already. And this is the guy we’re choosing. He can play. He can write. And…” Gareth pauses and looks to Eddie. “Can you sing?”

“He can sing,” Doug says.

“Yeah! He can sing!” Gareth finishes triumphantly. “He’s a 10x musician and we’re going to have him!”

“Err… if you’ll have us that is,” Jeff says, looking at Eddie apologetically. “Sorry. We usually don’t have to deal with non-music bullshit like this. Heather’s actually a wonderful person and amazing publicist despite how she comes across.”

“I’m a fucking delight,” Heather crows. “Alright. Give me a second to come up with a plan.” She paces around them, muttering wildly. “Ok, I’ve got a plan,” she says after more than a second.

“You,” she points to Billy. “You’re going to the Olympics in a few months.”

“Yeah?” Billy asks.

“Think you’ll win a medal?” She asks.

“Obviously,” Billy grumbles. He’s had plenty of time to recharge his mana and he hasn’t touched a drink in weeks. He’s already nearly back to where he was before that intense depression bender when he kind of dumped Steve and Eddie. Anyway, they’re back together now so that should solve all his problems. Suck on that anonymous mobs screeching about how a mysterious Eddie is ruining Billy’s performance.

“And the new album? That’s still on track?” Heather asks Jeff.

“Yeah, thanks to Eddie. He’s been a songwriting machine ,” Jeff says. “Remember the number we were having issues with? We couldn’t get the guitar to line up properly with the drums? Eddie fixed that. We’re on track.”

Eddie smiles shyly, hiding behind his hair. Steve kisses his other wrist.

“Ugh, there’s too much love and support in this room. I’m getting hives ,” Heather mutters. “Ok. Then here’s the plan. I’m going to get Corroded Coffin booked as the music for an Olympics after-party to give a glimpse at the new album, and to form your cover story. Which is that Billy met Eddie at this party. And it’ll be a few months from now, so by that point, enough people would have forgotten about this other Eddie.”

Jeff nods. “I like it. Should quash any potential rumors about nepotism.”

“Yep,” Heather nods. “We really don’t want to make it seem like Eddie only got in because he’s dating Billy and Billy and Jeff are friends. That means,” she pauses and lets the silence hang until all eyes are back on her. “This has to stay a secret until the Olympics after-party. Are we clear?”

#metalsandwich #msb2024 #billy hargrove #steve harrington #eddie munson #surfer billy hargrove #some guy steve harrington #almost-metalstar eddie munson #corroded coffin boys #heather holloway & billy hargrove

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lxstfathier · 1 year ago

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Storm

Police! Rodolfo Parra x Reader

Summary: you’re crying, overwhelmed by your problems, and it all leads to an unusual encounter with a police officer.

Warnings: dysfunctional family, anxiety, depression (?).

A/N: i’m kinda proud of this one, i think my writing in english is improving, it still isn’t nearly as good as what i write in spanish but i’m happy with it. So… enjoy, hope you like it 💗

The cold autumn wind blows relentlessly, moving the tree branches until their orange leaves fall to the ground. The sky is full of big dark clouds, announcing a storm about to start at any given moment. And you can’t help but shiver at the harsh weather, hating that you’re there without any other piece of clothing to keep you warm besides your oversized shirt and tiny shorts.

It’s a complicated evening. Another one of those where your house is a living hell, both of your parents yelling at each other for hours and your older sibling blasting music at full volume in their room, making it all fucking unbearable.

That’s why you’re outside, sitting on the sidewalk, a few blocks away from home, bawling your eyes out. But at least with some peace. The streets are empty, so it’s only you, the birds chirping, and your horrible loud thoughts.

Still, your misery is interrupted when a cop car pulls up by where you are. And you try not to mind, staying in your own business, but once you see the officer get out, walking straight to you, it’s impossible not to consider this as the worst day of your life. Maybe he thinks you’re a drug addict, or a criminal, or a homeless, who knows, but his attention is the least thing you need right now.

“Are you ok?” He asks, genuinely worried to see a girl crying in the middle of a lonely sidewalk, wearing nothing but a shirt when it’s about to rain.

“Yes, i’m fine, officer” you answer, not even looking up at him, only seeing his black boots next to your naked legs.

“Well, you don’t seem fine. Do you need help? Assistance? Anything?” there’s nothing a police officer can do for your situation, so you just shake your head, hoping that he’ll finally go away and leave you alone.

A few second pass, hearing the sounds of a zipper and windbreaker fabric, not knowing what is he doing. And then you see him, scrouching down to be at your level, offering you his jacket to stop you from freezing.

Your vision is a little blurry because of the tears, so you can’t see his face clearly, but he’s young for sure, probably not more than ten years older than you. He has dark hair, with a matching stubble, and pretty brown eyes. His uniform is all black, wearing a bulletproof vest around his torso, the shiny star of the “Policía Estatal” on the left side, and an embroidered patch of “R. Parra - Comandante” on the right.

You usually don’t trust new people, let alone a cop, but he seems nice, and the cold is pretty bad, so you take his jacket, muttering a “thanks” while putting it on. It’s way too big for you, although really warm, smelling good, as clean and masculine cologne. So you can’t complain.

“Mind telling me why are you crying?”.

“It’s just some family problems” you shrug. “Nothing too serious”.

“I’m a good listener… if you wanna vent” he says, a kind smile appearing on his lips, and you feel safe enough to tell him just a little bit about your personal hell.

“I don’t get along with my family, they’re always screaming and fighting, and i’m sick of it. I just want some peace in my life.” Tears roll down your cheeks, soon feeling his thumbs against your skin, gently wiping the wet trail.

You don’t know how to react. Why is he doing that? Why is he so sweet to a random girl on the street?. You’re not used to being treated nice, it feels really weird, but somehow you crave more.

“I’m sorry. I know how that feels like”. His voice is soft, soothing, and for the first time in your life you’re not being yelled at for expressing your emotions.

He understands you quite well. Parra was once a hurt kid just like you, with parents who fought a lot and mean sisters that seemed to enjoy picking on him. Until, one day, he decided to focus all that sadness and anger into something better, joining the police and forgetting about everything until he became a Commander.

The only difference is that you can’t find the strength to get back on your feet.

Suddenly, fat droplets of water start falling from the sky, and both of you know it’s time to go before you get soaking wet. He can keep working, and you… well, you have no idea.

“Ok, pretty girl, i should take you home” he says, standing up again, offering you his hand to help you do the same.

“I don’t wanna go home” you pout, looking up at him. Going back to such a chaotic place sounds awful right now.

“Where do you wanna go, then?”

“I don’t know. I have nowhere else to go, but any place is better than home, i don’t care.” You reply, accepting his hand to get up, still feeling your legs slightly weak.

“I can take you to the police station, we don’t have any problem with letting you spend the night there. How does that sound for you?”.

Once again you feel strange. As if someone finally saw you like a human being instead of a simple burden. And you know that his job is literally to help people, he probably does this everyday with different persons, but you like it, it warms your heart, and also it makes you feel kinda special.

“Sounds good, officer!” you tell him, forcing a smile. “Or should i call you Comandante Parra?”

“Either is fine” He shrugs, letting out a little chuckle.

Parra asks for your name too, and then guides you to his car, allowing you to be on the passenger seat. What a honor. You really thought you would get thrown into the backseat like any other lawbreaker. So now that you’re in the front, getting full view, you feel like a little kid, excited to get a ride in a cool cop vehicle.

Of course he notices your enthusiasm, even though you try to be subtle, but not daring to say a word about it. He just looks at you while driving, wondering why such a cute girl had to get a shitty family like his. It’s not fair, you should be smiling instead of crying.

“Will you be working at the station?” You ask, trying to make conversation now that you’re in a better mood.

“No. I’m supposed to be patrolling today.”

His response is not really what you wished to hear. Of course you don’t want to stay in a police station full of strangers, that would only fuel your anxiety, and it’s not like you already know Commander Parra, but you trust him enough to be by his side a few hours.

“Can i stay with you?” you ask, almost begging, thinking that he probably will tell you a negative answer. “I won’t give you trouble, i promise, i’ll just be the passenger princess.”

That question is unusual to him. Why would you want to spend your free time in a boring night of work with a police officer? that makes no sense. However, he won’t tell you no, not when you’re being so adorable.

“Fine” he agrees with a smile. “You’ll come with me, but you might get bored.”

“Gracias, Comandante” you thank him in a low tone, still a bit shy, but Parra hears it clearly.

Rain starts pouring, the water creating a relaxing sound as it hits the car. He drives around aimlessly, not caring about the storm, and you try to distract yourself away from your problems, contemplating the drops running down your window, tracing your fingers through the smooth fabric of his jacket.

Sometimes, you even turn your head to the left, just to catch a glimpse of him, appreciating his side profile and flawless uniform. And Commander Parra has to pretend he doesn’t notice you watching.

#i wanted to write some smut but did this instead lmao #rodolfo parra x reader #cod fanfic #Rodolfo Parra fanfic #call of duty fanfic

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hyunnieshannie · 2 years ago

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EX | HJ

Chapter 3: We'll be your new body guards

Pairing: Han Jisung x Fem. Reader

Word Count: 8,408

General Synopsis: Your ex? Shitty. Your family? Worse. Your best friend? Left for a tour in the middle of one of the worst times of your life. How are you meant to deal with planning what should have been your wedding, dealing with your family, and pretending like you're not falling apart all on your own?

General Warnings: Idol! Jisung, mentions of other Idols (P1Harmony/Seventeen), all views on these idols are purely fictional. Idol AU. Mentions of cheating, mentions of smoking and drug use (weed and cigarettes), Mentions of drinking, angst, self esteem issues, depression. Y/N is older than Jisung. (I'm sorry for the jokes that come out of this) (any tags I missed please feel free to let me know! More tags to be added as the story goes on.)

Chapter Warnings: SO MANY HURTFUL THINGS SAID IM SO SORRY, FIGHTING (nothing physical), there's just a lot to unpack.

→ A/N: God I am so unoriginal with names, sorry to the friends I threw into this... such a long chapter, I just HAD to get in that fight, and didn't realize how long it was oh my god. I hope you guys enjoy though!

PREVIOUS ꕀ❀ꕀ SERIES MASTER LIST ꕀ❀ꕀ NEXT

“Hey,” Jisung says as he opens the door gently, you stand there staring down at your shoes as he speaks, you feel slightly rude not looking at him as you mutter a pathetic ‘hello’ to him. The door swings open wider, granting you space to walk inside. Keeho walks in before you, carrying your suitcases, as you clutch your favorite stuffed animal. The familiar feeling of embarrassment nulls the rest of your senses. You hadn’t felt like this since your first time walking into Keeho’s home seven months ago, only this time it’s worse. This time instead of coming into a friend's home, someone you’d known for years; you’re walking into a home full of people you’d barely even met.

“It’s just until I get back,” Keeho whispers, as he gently nudges you forward. Hesitantly you walk in and observe your new living space. The house is nice so far, the living room is large and clean, and the kitchen is modern. There are stairs leading up just on the further side of the room, large windows spanned the far wall allowing for the orange colors of the setting sun to seep right in. Your bags are placed down with a thud, as Keeho straightens himself out, standing tall beside you. “Thanks, Ji. Seriously, this means a lot to us” he says. The unease of being in a new place is bearable but the thought of having to call this home for the next few months, doesn’t sit right. This isn’t home, not yours at least. A few voices sound from upstairs, muffled behind closed doors.

“No problem, honestly. Everyone’s happy to have her, and Min’s pretty excited to have another girl in the house.” Min? Another girl? Meeting Jisung’s other roommates was something you had prepared yourself for but there was never any mention of another girl living in the house, and the idea of that scared you. It wasn’t typically hard for you to get along with other women, but you’d surrounded yourself so much with the boys you’d almost forgotten what the company of a woman would be like, and Leah was hardly a good example of sisterhood among women.

“Ah, I’m sure she is; living with you guys must be rough. Can’t imagine how she’s survived.” Keeho laughs,

“mmm, “ Jisung hums, “She might actually be worse than the rest of us, you should hear her at night it’s-”

“Woah I don’t want to know!” Keeho blushes, clearly making a presumption about the end of Jisung’s sentence.

“Not like that you creep.” Jisung laughs, “She plays fucking league of legends, valorant, and shit she gets riled up screams at her teammates, honestly sometimes I wonder how Chan is the one with a banned account and not her, I mean her toxicity is way up there sometimes” he giggles as he turns to you, watching as you look around and take in the new environment. She’s toxic enough for Jisung to wonder why her online games haven’t banned her, you think to yourself, Fuck how am I even going to speak to her?

“She yelled at you, didn't she?” Keeho snickers as Jisung side eyes him,

“Yea- THAT’S NOT THE POINT KEEHO” Jisung whines, loud thumps come from upstairs making their way towards the stairs, the girl you could only assume Jisung yells out to him,

“ARE YOU STILL TALKING SHIT JI?” She yells, “I SWEAR TO GOD JISUNG THE NEXT TIME YOU INT ME IN A RANKED GAME, WILL BE THE LAST TIME WE DUO” She stares up at Jisung who turns to her un-phased, “And I’ll report you for inting. Maybe post on twitter how shit you are at Lea-” slowly her gaze falls on you, she quiets down quickly as her face flushes a bright shade of red, “Oh shit-” she mutters, “You’re here,” you smile up at the girl, her eyes still narrowed as she looks at Jisung, “You should have warned me you fucking moron,” She says before turning back around, “I’ll be right back!”

“Hey wait!” Jisung calls out, reaching out for her as if magically he’d be able to pull her from the stairs to the front door, “Where's your friend?” he asks, her face is dark from the hood she has pulled over her head and her expression is slightly unreadable,

“Why do you want to know?” she smirks,

“I just want to know if she’s staying for dinner or not.” He sighs, another person in the house, ‘It won’t be overwhelming Y/N’ ‘It’ll be fine Y/N’ Kee you liar.

“Why does it matter to you, you’re not the one that cooks in the house.” she smirks again, as Jisung looks up at her with eyes that silently tell her to ‘shut the fuck up’ she’s with Chan in his room anyway”

“WAIT JISUNGS COOKING?” More loud thuds come from upstairs, a door slamming open as someone leans over the railing, “WAIT YOU CAN COOK?” She laughs, “Who’d have known!”

“Shut it Maddy and go back to eating Chan’s face or something,” Jisung sighs, the girl laughs loudly as she walks away back into the room she came from,

“We’re just watching videos, you loser!”

“Sure you are!” he yells back,

“Don’t be mad ‘cause it aint you!” She yells back before the door slams shut, Jisung fakes a gag which earns him a pillow to the face thrown directly at him by the other girl who still stood on the stairs, quickly she turns back around and runs back up hiding herself in her hoodie and disappearing into the second level. A door shuts, and now you’re back to being with only Keeho and Jisung.

“Sorry,” Jisung mutters, “Maddy and Mini are something.” You give him a weak smile, you were told you’d just be meeting his roommates, you didn’t expect another girl, and NOW a friend of said girl, and Chan? “I’ll introduce you to Min, Hyunjin, and Changbin after you get settled,” you nod as he turns back to Keeho. “Have fun on tour,” he smiles widely, genuinely. Jisung brings Keeho into a hug, as he wishes him luck and fun on his adventure around the world. You stare up at Keeho wishing, for a moment he’d just take you with them; but you know that he can’t. That’s not how it works.

After a few more minutes of chatting, Keeho pulls you into a tight hug. “I’ll be back soon, Y/N/N” you sigh into his chest as he whispers to you that it’s only going to be a few months, that you can call him whenever, that even if he isn’t physically present; he’s still here for you. You know he is. You know he’d never leave you alone willingly and you know that you can talk to him whenever you want but it wasn’t that. It was still the idea of being with new people you barely know.

ꕀ❀ꕀ

“And that’s the entire first floor.” Jisung says as you slowly follow behind him, the first floor was mainly the kitchen, and a utility room connected to it. The living room being the centerpiece of the first floor. It had a small powder room, and a larger room filled with mixing equipment, microphones, and different instruments all crammed into it.

As he finishes showing you the last room, Chan makes his way down the stairs smiling warmly as he spots you, “Y/N,” he takes wide strides towards you as the other girl who’s voice you’d only heard follows closely behind him, “good to see you again,” he brings you into a tight hug; your body tenses up. Unsure as to why he’s even hugging you in the first place. He lets you go as the girl walks up slowly beside him, placing herself into the situation. Shit. You think to yourself, avoiding eye contact with her as you mumble a quick ‘you too’.

“Hi,” the girl says cheerfully, as she extends her hand; you take it cautiously hoping for her not to squeeze too tightly as a warning of coming near what seems to be her man. “I’m Maddy!”

“Y/N, nice to meet you,” your cheeks turn a light shade of rose, as you look at the ground. She holds your hand softly as she introduces herself.

“I should get going! But it was nice to meet you Y/N! Hope to see you again,” she smiles, waving goodbye; she wasn’t as bad as you had thought but still. What an uncomfortable way to meet someone. Chan quickly follows her to the door, leaning down to her height to give her a quick kiss goodbye. “Goodnight,” she smiles, before quickly changing from a sweet and soft voice to screaming up the stairs. “BYE MIN!!” She waits a moment, no answer. “Bitch probably can’t hear me over her game,” she giggles while opening the door, just as she walks out Jisung let’s out a loud sigh. “What Ji?”

“You hate me just say it,” he whimpers, truly looking at her like a kicked puppy.

“True” she laughs,

“Wow.”

“Shut up,” she continues giggling as she rushes over to give him a hug, he smiles at her embrace; letting her go as a car pulls up to the driveway, headlights beaming in through the windows. She rushes out the door, Chan who stands by it watches her until the very moment the car takes off.

“Sorry,” Jisung’s face shows clear signs of embarrassment, does he like Chan’s girlfriend? “Let’s get your stuff upstairs,” he goes to pick up one of your suitcases, but Chan beats him to it. Picking up both leaving Jisung to grab only the small backpack you had with you.

“I got it, you show her upstairs,” Chan walks in front of you, trudging up the stairs, muscles flexing as he carries the two heavy bags. Jisung motions with his arms, for you to follow Chan up as he follows behind. The stairs led to a smaller open area, with two hallways leading into multiple different rooms. A large clean shared bathroom in the middle of the hallways to the left.

“That’s Changbin, and Chan’s bathroom,” Jisung smiles. The three bedrooms in the hall all had their doors closed with names labeled above them. Chan, Bin, Han. They read. “We put those there for you, so you could find whoever you needed.” His voice indicated he was shy about mentioning how they’d thought of labeling themselves, all for your sake. He takes a quick right into the further hall, where three more doors sit closed. Chaos, Hyun, Mini & Y/N “I hope you don’t mind,” he whispers, “Mini said she’d share her room.” share her room. If you didn’t think you were already intruding, you definitely did now. Knowing you’d have to share a room.

“W-what’s the ‘chaos’ room?”

“Gaming mainly, it’s where Mini put her pc when she first moved in, from there we kind of just decided to let her have it. Chan put some sound boards up to try and muffle her screaming, it helps. A bit.” he laughs as he opens the room. The lights were off but the colors from the computer shone brightly throughout, pinks and purples, as the silent pc sat turned on. Two Monitors, displaying colorful moving backgrounds of animated characters. LED lights wrapped around the room, a camera connected to the PC by organized wires, a ring light sat tucked in a corner. The room is what you would expect out of one of those big streamers you often see on twitch or YouTube. The wall behind the large black and white chair had a nice backdrop, but the one behind the pc was covered to the max in posters, polaroid's, and light sticks hanging from command hooks.

“Is that a-”

“Photocard inside the pc?” Jisung laughs, “Yes, she says it gives her good luck in games.”

“She streams?”

“Sometimes, I think this is mainly stuff from her old place; she used to do a bunch of content on different sites but stopped recently.” he closes the door quietly, as Chan drops the bags in front of the door labeled Mini & Y/N. “I’ll go get her,” he smiles, walking towards Hyunjin’s door. He taps on it lightly, and someone rushes to open it. She opened it quickly, smiling as she walked out and closing it behind her. You can finally get a good look at the person you’d now be sharing a room with. Her name, Mini, was the opposite of her. She’s taller than both Chan and Jisung, with long hair split-dyed down the middle. Black and white, she wore a large black hoodie and a baggy pair of sweats. “Min, this is Y/N.” Jisung says, as she approaches you. “Y/N this is-”

“Mini, Moni, whatever works, sorry about earlier. I was expecting you later.” her voice is soft, but not high pitched, a calming mid range honestly. Jisung looks back to you, attempting to read your expression but you offer him nothing. Just a weak smile.

“Y/N, nice to meet you.” She smiles at you, bringing you into a tight hug.

“Be nice to have another girl around here,” She giggles,

“Yeah, as if you’re a girl.” Jisung snorts,

“Do you want to die now? Or should I smother you while you sleep?” She gives him a glare, and he quickly backs down. “Go take Hyune to the store. I planned dinner. He knows what to get. I’ll get her settled in because god knows you’re not going anywhere near my room.” Jisung nods as he walks towards Hyunjin’s room, looking back at you with caring eyes before slipping quickly into the room. Mini takes you inside her room. It’s nice, the same large windows spanned one wall, a large bed with a fluffy black duvet and matching pillows was centered against the furthest wall. The room is a light shade of blue, while most of her décor was white, a few paintings hung on her walls, and a study desk sat against the windowed wall. The closet was large, and the door to the washroom within the room was kept open. “It’s not much, everything else is in the other room-” she says nervously,

“No- It’s nice.” you say, she smiles weakly at you before laying one of your suitcases across the bed.

“I cleared out the closet the best I could for you-” she says as she opens the door, half of it empty with hangers waiting for your clothes to be placed, “and this is the washroom,” she walks over with you following. It was a nice size, for sure big enough for two. What you found most interesting was the shower, it was huge. The tub centered inside of it, honestly it looked like it had popped out of a ‘bathroom inspo’ Pinterest page. “This used to be the master bedroom.” she says softly, “Boys gave it to me expecting us to use it since-”

“Us?” You ask, you didn’t mean to let it out. Your mouth simply started before your brain could catch up,

“Mhm,” she hums, “Hyune and I”

“Ah so you’re Hyunjin’s girlfriend.” she nods, “Explains the photocard in your pc” you awkwardly laugh as you mention it, of course this was his girlfriend, what else should you have expected? She came out of his room, she had mentioned him already and let alone the photocard, it should have connected by now.

“You’re Keeho’s girlfriend right?” she asks, you could tell she’d been trying to find the right words, as she fiddled with her rings.

“No, just a childhood friend,” you say, it wasn’t the first time you’d been mistaken for being his girlfriend, people had assumed many times before. You two were just close, and it often led to misconceptions of how the two of you felt towards each other. You had never really considered it but if you looked deep down you knew all you felt from him was a platonic love, similar to the one you should feel towards siblings. “I get it all the time,” you assure her, as she looks at you as if she’d just offended your family, concerned.

“Fuck- Sorry I shouldn’t have assumed,”

“To be fair I assumed about you too-”

“Yeah but that’s a fair assumption,”

“So was yours,” the two of you laugh together, and hard. The first sign of life you’d given since arrival. Talking to her was awkward, but only because you didn’t know her; but as she warmed up to you, you warmed up to her as well. She quickly rushes to shut the door as Hyunjin’s swings open, Jisung’s voice booming loudly through the halls as he screams out they were off to the store, and that if anyone wanted anything to text them.

“Sorry he’s so fucking loud all the time-” she giggles.

ꕀ❀ꕀ

Mini helped you unpack as the two of you spoke, getting to know each other. You learned she’s a film student and that her favorite colors are black and red. She listened carefully to every detail you told her about yourself, and showed genuine interest in the things you liked. The fear of her slowly dissipated as the two of you talked and laughed. She seemed intimidating, a cold look to her when you’d first been introduced but as the hours passed, you came to see she was warm, like a summer breeze.

“Can I ask you something?” she says as she props herself up on the bed, you stare back at her as you finish hanging your last shirt,

“Shoot,”

“What’s it like being friends with Keeho, and his group?”

“I should be asking you that question, what’s it like being friends with Stray Kids?”

“Hell.” she mutters, “Jisung is so loud all the time, and he says I’M the one that yells?” you chuckle at her response, “All seriousness they’re great people, I’m lucky to have met Jeongin.”

“Jeongin?” she hums in response laying back down as she stares at the ceiling,

“I had a film study with this director for one of their videos. Great opportunity by the way. Anyways Jeongin was looking over some of his parts and he wasn’t too happy with his performance, nerves or something. I don’t remember how the conversation went, but as a film student I also had to take writing, and acting courses. You know; to create jobs when you don’t have one or something.” she sighs, “So we got to talking, I kind of said the basic first year acting class bullshit my teacher said, but he seemed so grateful. Next thing you know he was talking to me every time we were on set and he didn’t have scenes to film-”

“I swear this is starting to sound like a romance,”

“NO!” She laughs, “not at all, more like people with the same goal. He wanted to do well for the fans, and I wanted to make sure he did well for the fans. I wasn’t much help but- he was kind. The guys took notice that he’d be around me all the time, kinda reminded me of my little brother. Chan introduced himself first but after that I didn’t see them as often. Then get this-” she sits up excitedly, her eyes glistening as she recounts the memory. “I got an assistant job with the director, I did so well apparently that I was able to get a fucking job! Even after I changed my hair, my appearance, everything Jeongin remembered me the next time we saw each other like- a year and a half later!” she lets out a sound you can only register as something endearing, “he said, ‘Mini! You’re back! I can’t wait to show you my improvements!’ and he did so good. I was absolutely stunned, I mean he was talented before but this time around he was even better! The shoot went so well, they had invited a lot of the staff for a dinner after the video release! I spent most of the night with him, talking about film and photography. And he goes-” she clears her throat before mimicking Jeongin's voice “You need to meet Hyunnie~ Only he talks about that stuff the way you do, you’ll get along! And then boom, there I am arguing with him over which film camera is better for like an hour. While the rest of them laughed at us~” you could tell by her voice how excited she was, you could see in her eyes how much love she held for both Jeongin and Hyunjin. She groans as she looks at you, completely entranced by her answer, “I didn’t wanna talk about me,” she huffs, “Go on tell me your story!” you think to yourself about the first time you’d met Keeho,

“I mean I knew Kee, when he was Stephen” you giggle, walking back towards the bed and placing yourself on the opposite end of her, “Family friends, we grew up together, he’s basically a younger brother to me”

“No way you’re older than him!” she exclaims, almost shocked at the fact.

“Mhm, Then he came here. He’s been here longer than me but, when I moved in with him last year I felt like I was at home ya know?” she nods, “Three years I’ve been here and nothing felt more like home than being with him,”

“Five years? Wait you just said-”

“I lived with Kee for about seven months of those three years, I lived with J- an ex. But Kee was quick on taking me in when it failed, but I have known the other boys since debut mainly, they’re also hell.” you change the subject quickly avoiding talking more about your relationship, your failed one at that. “Kee, Intak and Taeyang are the ones I spend most of my time with, they’re like grown toddlers I swear to you.” she laughs at your response before agreeing with the statement, “Are all boys stupid?” you giggle,

“YES! Oh my god.” A soft knock at the door ends the conversation quickly, which to you came as a slight blessing. Your mind, though distracted for most of the evening, was slowly starting to revert to its thoughts of Leah and him.

“Hyune say’s dinner is ready,” Chan says softly as he opens the door, “Bin won’t be home till later, something about a plan you came up with?” Mini’s eyes widen as she leaps off the bed, standing quickly and rushing to the door, grabbing Chan by the shoulders before jumping up and down excitedly,

“HE DID IT, HE DID IT” she yells out, “HE FINALLY ASKED HER OUT!” She lets out a high pitched squeal as both you and Chan look at her confused.

ꕀ❀ꕀ

At dinner, Mini sat next to Chan, Hyunjin in front of her while you sat beside him. Jisung sat on the far end of the table as he scribbled down notes into a small journal. It was a nice dinner, and the conversation flowed. Mainly questions about yourself as everyone tried to get to know you a bit more, still the awkwardness of being around a new group of people persisted and to make everything worse, your phone buzzed non stop throughout all of it. The group had told you multiple times to answer, that it would be fine. Maybe it was Keeho checking up on you before his flight. You only had not checked because you were worried it’d come off as rude, so as clean up began you excused yourself to check the messages.

Call me ~Leaaah

y/n?~Leaaah

dude.~Leaaah

You’re supposed to be helping me where are youuu ~Leaaah

Keeho isn’t picking up, call me asap~Leaaah

Y/Nnnnnnnnnnnnnn~Leaaah

Girl if you don’t…~Leaaah

I’m gonna cry and send you a video if you don’t call me~Leaaah

Y/N Y/N Y/N Y/N Y/N Y/N Y/N ~Leaaah

I HAVE AN IMPORTANT QUESTION ~Leaaah

UGH ~Leaaah

You sigh, as you look at the messages. Instantly a new one comes in.

FINALLY YOU READ MY MESSAGES, IM CALLING NOW~Leaaah

You really should turn off read receipts. The call comes in and you reluctantly answer it, it’d been two days of non stop messages; you’ve answered every question you could possibly think of so what now did she want?

“Y/n where have you been!” she sighs, instinctively you roll your eyes as her high pitched voice leaves a ringing in your ears. “Doesn’t matter anyways I have a favor to ask,”

“What is it?”

“Well it’s not really a favor, you’re my maid of honor so you have to do it, anyways I got my binder sorted out and I wanna go over some things with you, so we're meeting tomorrow at one pm.”

“Where?”

“Your place”

“No Leah, I can’t-”

“You HAVE to!” She cries out, you know that as her maid of honor you had a duty of going over the planning with her, being there for her through every step. Not only as her maid of honor but as her sister, but truthfully you weren’t ready to help plan what should have been your wedding. You remember day dreaming of the day he’d ask, you remember your little scrapbook of things you’d wish to have, one that never saw the light of day. One you kept tucked away in secret, the only person having seen it being her.

“Ok, I’ll figure it out. Just not here-”

“PERFECT TEXT ME THE ADDRESS” She yells before abruptly hanging up the call. You let out a loud sigh as you walk back into the living room, sitting down carefully on the couch where everyone else sat playing an intense game of Super Smash Brothers, Jisung on the other hand was nowhere to be seen.

“All good?” Mini asks, as she focuses on the screen in front of her, furiously smashing on the buttons of the control.

“Yeah, just my sister wanting to meet with me to plan her wedding.” you sigh,

“Oh congrats, that's great! When?” Chan says,

“Tomorrow, but I don’t know where to take her for it-”

“Just bring her here, the boys can lock themselves away in their rooms since they have the day off!” Mini smirks as she pushes Hyunjin off the platform in game, he grunts as he looks at her as if he’d been betrayed.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea-” “Should be fine, just us anyways and Jeongin but we’ll be upstairs mostly. I’ll make snacks” Hyunjin says, as he stands from the couch, stretching his long limbs out with a loud yawn.

“Oh- Okay,” you sigh.

ꕀ❀ꕀ

As you lay in Mini’s bed you stare into the ceiling, wondering if it was a good idea to invite Leah into a house that wasn’t even yours. Everyone had insisted that it was fine, but you knew Leah. She’d be distracted at the sight of them, she only knew a few of the boys of Seventeen well and often gawked at anyone remotely famous. Whether that be a tiktok person with a few thousand followers, or an actual celebrity you couldn’t help but think slightly ill of your sister. She’d always wanted to be someone, something more than what she was. She wanted fame, she wanted to be recognized. She wouldn’t go to any extremes to gain it, but she wanted it. Doesn’t everyone want to be more than they are? Doesn’t everyone wish for some sort of fame? That’s why you chose to go into college as a music major, was it not? To gain something? Some sort of relevance, in your irrelevant little life. Because isn’t everyone's life irrelevant if the world doesn’t know who you are? Sure, most of the songs you’d produced were sold off, you were merely a ghost writer, but it would be nice if someone told you how much they admired your music, it would be nice to be recognized for your work. The difference was that you worked for what you wanted, though nothing had come from it yet. Leah wanted it to come simply, Leah wanted to be noticed because she’s pretty, and ‘don’t pretty people become famous overnight?’. Yeah she had attempted her luck on tiktok, YouTube, and being one of those ‘Instagram’ models, but she offered nothing of substance.

Leah had no niche, she wasn’t funny in the eyes of the internet, nor did she create videos that were ‘captivating’ most if not all of the time she relied on her looks, lip syncing to songs hoping to become the next Bella Poarch or Addison Rae.

And, That’s just not how it works.

You tossed and turned the entire night, hoping Leah would be on her best behavior, and lightly thanking Mini for sleeping in Hyunjin’s room because by the way you were rolling about the bed, you’re sure you’d only keep her awake.

ꕀ❀ꕀ

“Mm, you sure you want me to stay? I can go bother Jeongin and Jisung upstairs..” Mini says as she sits upright on the couch, looking mostly uncomfortable.

“Yeah, Leah said she wanted to make girl friends so-” you trail off as the bell rings, you’re quick to open the door. Not even a hello leaves your sisters lips, she just simply walks in as if she owns the place. Walking right past you to admire the home,

“Cute~” She winks at you, “Oh HI! You must be the other girl!” she exclaims as she rushes to Mini who now looks even more uncomfortable. Leah brings her into a hug, as Mini gives you wide eyes, barely even touching your sister. She doesn’t like being touched on some days. You remember, and this was one of those days.

“Hi,” Mini says, “Monica, nice to meet you.” She had told you the night before how much she hated her name, how much she preferred Moni, or Mini over ever being called Monica so why would she introduce herself that way?

“So where is everyone else!” she yells out excitedly,

“Upstairs minding their own business” Mini laughs,

“Tell them to come say hi, if they’re going to be my sister's friends they should be mine too!” Of course, she doesn’t say hello and immediately asks to meet the people that even you, barely know. This was just how Leah is. The sound of a door creaking open, loud music finding its way down the hall, as footsteps sound near the stairs. Jisung casually strolls down, followed by Chan, Jeongin, Hyunjin, and Changbin. “Ee'' Leah lets out, “You must be the members of SKZ I've heard sooooo much about you!” Leah jumps, “My sister is obsessed with you guys!” Maybe it was in her tone, but you could swear she was trying to embarrass you in front of them, “Like literally obsessed, can’t believe she’s even functioning in front of you right now!” Jisung shoots you a concerned look, one that read ‘what is she saying’ you shrug at him, and he puts on a smile quickly,

“Oh thank god someone likes our music,” He laughs, “I was worried we’d be starving artists for life!” Leah is quick to laugh at his joke, “I’m Han.” he says extending a hand, Han. His introduction to her was different from the way he’d introduced himself to you. He was being professional.

“I.N,” Jeongin smiles, as he walks up to Mini placing a hand on her head which she immediately shakes off, as he smirks down at her.

“Bang Chan,”

“Changbin,”

“Hyunjin.” They were all, including Mini, being professional. As if speaking to a fan of the group and not your family member. They were being careful.

Something in Hyunjin’s body language seemed off. The night before he was relaxed, maybe it wasn’t your place to judge how he carried himself, and you don’t know him well enough to be able to read him but you do know that he’s tense. Giving Leah a side eye she seemed to miss. “Oh, Y/N” he says seemingly relaxing as he approaches you, “I added you to the group chat this morning for the house, we kind of just use it for whatever. Talking, and plans, all that stuff.”

“Ohh cute! A group chat, awe Y/N I wanna be in it!” Leah whines. Had you never noticed how Leah always managed to inject herself into situations that were clearly not meant for her? Have you always looked at your sister with loving eyes? Were you a terrible person for thinking she was looking for attention, from people she doesn’t know?

Hyunjin gives Mini a look, a look of ‘For what’.

His expressions are easy to read, his emotions clearly conveyed from a glance, as he faced Mini with his back towards Leah. Mini glances at Chan, who quickly speaks up.

“Hah, I mean it’s just a housemate thing, he says we talk but it's mainly grocery lists. You’d get bored of it, ya know?” nervously he looks at Leah whos nodding away agreeing with his statements,

“True, I would! You should see the group chat I have with my boys, gosh they’re so all over the place, honestly it’s best for me to not join another!” bragging. She’s either bragging, or playing off the fact she was denied something she wanted.

“Anyways we came down because we were gonna get some snacks so- we’ll be off” Changbin says as Jeongin walks back carrying a bowl full of packaged snacks, Hyunjin reaches for one of the packages before immediately getting scolded by Jeongin,

“HEY!” he huffs, “What would Seungmin say,” Hyunjin rolls his eyes before snatching the snack and racing up the stairs,

“What he doesn’t see, he can’t nag me for!” he laughs, as the rest of them chase him down.

“Awe, he’s such a cutie” Leah giggles, causing Mini to sit up.

“He is, honestly I let him get away with way too much because of that face” She giggles, “Remind me to call Seungminnie to snitch on him later Y/N,'' you nod “Seriously Y/N don’t let me forget, even if he threatens to break up with me don’t let me give in to those puppy dog eyes he’ll give me later!” You laugh at the comment as she eases the mood, while drawing a line that she in fact was Hyunjin’s girlfriend. Engaged or not, she wasn’t going to let the hopeful look in Leah’s eyes slide.

“Anyways, look what I found!” Leah dismisses the comments made, sitting down comfortably on the couch as she leans over the coffee table, rummaging through her bag and pulling out a blush pink binder, then slowly pulling out a smaller green scrapbook. Your scrapbook. “I found it in a box at the house!” she smiles, “Ugh, it’s been so long since we looked at it!” she pushes it towards you.

You shake as you take the book, “I’d rather not open this Leah,” you softly say,

“Oh please Y/N you had such cute ideas!” Leah says as she snatches the book, prying it open to the first page. Themes. Mini watches you carefully, mentally noting how your demeanor had changed since Leah had walked in. “Ah a forest theme! So cute!” she cries out, “We’re thinking of Jeju!”

“Jeju is nice,” Mini says,

“RIGHT!” Mini only hums, still watching as Leah flips through the pages carelessly. You stare down at your hands. Please stop. You begged internally. “Oh, so Y/N” you look back up at her, the scrapbook now closed. “I booked my appointment to try on dresses!”

“Oh fantastic, show me what you looked at.” You force a smile, as she pulls her binder out. Opening it to the dresses tab. Your heart stops for a moment. The page you had created of dresses was cut up and plastered all over the place, and the gorgeous dress you had admired lay centered on the page. You remember the day you had first seen it, then and there you had decided that that was the dress for you. That was your dream dress. You studied it, praying to find some sort of difference, praying that it was some sort of similar dress, that it wasn’t the one you’d day dreamed of wearing for years.

“Hope you don’t mind, but I saw that and I fell in love,” Leah smirks,

“What are you doing?” your voice is flat, as you stare at her. Whatever game she was playing at, you were over.

“What do you mean?” she says with a pout,

“Listen, I'm not feeling well. Let's do this some other time.” you say as you stand from your spot on the floor. It wasn't a lie, seeing the dress you dreamed of lay in front of you, knowing she would be trying it on made you sick to your stomach. You thought you could do okay, you thought you’d be fine helping her, but clearly you were wrong. Nausea begins to overwhelm you, and you feel your heart race as your body threatens to puke up every negative thought, every memory, every single little detail that made your stomach churn.

“Common Y/N don’t be like that,” Leah sighs as she leans back on the couch, Mini still watching everything unfold. Her body tensing up as if she felt the earthquake before it hit, the tsunami of emotions that was bound to flood the room. “I know you loved it, but.” There’s always a butt before the bullshit. “It would be a waste not to see it. I know you wanted this to be your dress, but I can’t stop my heart from loving what I love, it would go to good use. It will finally be seen because at least one of us is getting married, also for the party. Can you invite those girls from Keeho’s company for me? He didn't answer so I assumed he’s just busy. Maybe Moni can invite people from her boy's company too!” Mini flinches at the last words, looking at Leah with a disgusted face, and you. You’re unsure if you want to cry or scream.

“About the dress Leah. Not today, I can’t do this.” you sigh, “And I can’t just invite random idols to a party for someone they don’t know. I'm sorry.”

“You have to.”

“Leah, we’re not doing this today please.” you were desperate for an out, you couldn’t stand sitting here planning your dream wedding for her, you couldn’t sit there watching her admire your dress. You couldn’t do it. Not today.

“You’re fucking pathetic.” Leah mutters, as she stares daggers into you. “I can’t believe you.”

“What.”

“Over a fucking dress.” you sighs,

“It’s not really about the dress, Le-”

“You said you were over it.” she snaps, her anger shining through. The entire time she’d been here she’d been nothing but rude, and now she has the audacity to be mad at you?

“Leah, we’re not doing this.”

“Fucking. Pathetic, like I said.” Leah scoffs, “No wonder Keeho sent you here, I’m sure he was hyped to get rid of you and your pessimistic ass!” she shouts. Causing enough of a commotion for the boys to come quietly down the stairs to figure out what the yelling was about. “This is why Jeonghan left you,” she mutters, “Because you can’t see any good in anything, I don’t fucking know how anyone does it. Dealing with you, you’ve been nothing but sour ever since you found out. Couldn’t even stay the whole time during the engagement party. How the fuck do you do it Monica? How do you deal with her fucking depressed ass?” Mini doesn’t know, Leah please stop. You cry out, but words don’t form. You look at your little sister, tears filling your eyes, anger boiling at a dangerous heat within you, threatening to overflow.

“Do not speak to me.” Mini says a little too calmly. “Do not speak to your sister like that, and certainly do not speak on behalf of Keeho. We all know why she’s here. It has nothing to do with you, or her. Apologize, please.”

“Why should I!” she screams,

“Because you are in my home, and I will not tolerate this shit.” Mini says,

“YOUR Home? This is Bang Chans home, Changbin’s home, Han’s home, Hyunjin’s home.” Leah laughs, “you’re just like her,” she says as she points to you, “Living off your idol boyfriend.” the venom in Leah’s words stung, and everyone in the room could tell. Hyunjin quickly making his way to Mini as she stands there trying to calm her breathing.

“Don’t fucking speak to her like that.” Hyunjin interjects,

“Get out.” you mutter,

“I’m not fucking wrong! You lived off Jeonghan for so long you fucking pa-”

“We’re done here.” Chan says, as he demands the rooms attention. “Listen, we invited you into our home to allow you to plan your wedding. Not fight with Monica, or insult your sister.”

“You don’t know me.” Leah laughs, “Who the fuck are you to-”

“Even more reason for you to leave.” Chan responds, not letting her finish her sentence. Jisung makes his way to the table, gathering Leah's things and quickly throwing them on the table closest to the door.

“This is a joke right?” Leah scoffs, your fists clench as you watch her continue her fit “You’re gonna defend her when she’s the one who came onto me first?”

“Refusing to invite random idols who have no idea who you are to a party that has nothing to do with them isn’t coming to you, and neither is being uncomfortable about the fact you’ve decided to just use the dress she had planned out.” Mini laughs, “Delusional much? Like why would you need idols at it anyways don’t you have your own friends?”

“I do but she has more connections, I want my day to be special as would anyone!” a gross excuse.

“You’re not entitled to Y/N’s friend circle.” Changbin says, his brows furrowed as he speaks. His chest, puffing up ready to defend you, even though he doesn’t even know you.

“Truth be told,” Jisung says, “The way you’re reacting right now is over the top. Did you really want Y/N’s help or were you hoping to use her for her connections?” Leah stands quickly from the couch, wide eyed as she stares of Jisung who’s now made his way in front of you, blocking her view of you as your tears begin to fall.

“You’re all pathetic.” Leah mutters, “All of you. A joke. What did I expect out a group no one even likes.” she laughs as she runs her hand through her hair. “And you Monica, enjoy him sticking up for you while it lasts, I mean learn by example; look at how Y/N ended up. He’ll find someone better than whatever the fuck you are.”

“Leah sto-” you begin standing up, tears falling leaving streaks of mascara down your face. How fucking embarrassing. For her to do this in front of them. In Front of people you're barely getting used to. You lightly push Jisung out of the way only to be cut off by Mini, her hand stretched out across you as she walks in front of you placing herself beside Jisung.

“Y/N.” She says lightly, “It’s fine. Go to our room and breathe,” she whispers. Mini turns, now completely facing off with Leah. Mini was the complete opposite of her nickname. She stood tall, her stance intimidated even you who she was defending.

You storm up the stairs into your shared room. Your heart pounding as she calmly told Leah to leave, letting her know if she refused that she would remove her, herself. Leah’s shouting only grew louder, until you heard Chan’s voice raise for the first time ever. The door slammed shut, and a few minutes of silence passed before Mini made her way into the room. Shutting the door behind her, she sat carefully on the bed as you tried your best to calm down.

“I want to go home,” you sob, “But Keeho and his stupid fucking company, and-”

“You know, Y/N I may be over stepping here but,” Mini says as she looks at you, her body language indicating she was about to say something that made her uncomfortable, “Before I met Hyunnie, I was in a similar situation. I mean he didn’t ask my sister to marry him but he did some really messed up things,” she pauses hoping you wouldn’t yell at her for crossing a boundary. “What I’m saying is, I know it hurts right now but don’t blame Keeho for sending you here. What she said wasn’t true. He wasn’t getting rid of you, he just wants to make sure you have some support while he’s gone. We may still be very new to you, but I consider you a friend already. We all do. Even Jeongin, and he only met you a few hours ago.”

You look at her teary eyed, as she speaks. You’re afraid she’ll tell you not to cry over it anymore, that she’d tell you that you were being dramatic about the situation. You wouldn’t be surprised if she did, because your entire family had said it. ‘You can’t control who people fall in love with, you’ll get over it, don't be dramatic Y/N’

“Cry it out.” Mini says, “Scream if you have to, none of them will mind. You've been so strong for so long, you’ve been keeping your actual thoughts in for so long Y/N. So scream, let it all out. Get. Angry.” you look at her shocked, you expected something else but here she was telling you to get angry, to get everything out of your system. All the pent up anger, the hurt, all of it. And you did, it all came out at full force, all at once as you screamed and cried loudly for the whole house to hear, and possibly the neighbors a few houses down. She simply hugged you, letting you bawl into her chest as she played with your hair. Ten minutes. Ten minutes of screaming, ten minutes of crying and cursing the world for the injustices you’ve faced. That’s all it took for you to feel just a little bit better.

A soft knock on the door made you straighten up and wiper your tears, Hyunjin walks in followed by Jeongin, Chan, Changbin and Jisung who held a cup of water, Jeongin carrying his bowl of snacks. Jisung handed you the water carefully, as you weakly smile up at him.

“Sorry,” you mumble as you take a sip of the cool water.

“It’s fine, we’re used to it. All of us do it, thanks to a certain someone” Jisung says as he motions with his head towards Mini,

“Sometimes, you just got to get all that energy out into the world. Why bury it within yourself? It only hurts more to bottle it up.” Mini sighs, “I used to do it a lot. Like I said, they’re used to it.” You look down at your hands while Jisung crouches in front of you.

“Feel better though?” He asks, you nod. The bed shifts as the other four boys sit on Mini’s bed. You watch Hyunjin cradle Mini who is now sitting in a ball up against him, Chan, Changbin and Jeongin sit silently.

“You guys are cute,” you whisper.

“Ew. now i want to die” Mini says as she quickly gets off Hyunjin, he gasps in offense.

“As if you didn’t want to already,” Jeongin jokes,

“First off, fuck you. Secondly go fuck yourself,” Mini hisses,

“Well, which is it Mini? Do you want to fuck or should I go jer-”

“You’re disgusting you fucking perv.” she snaps, “Your hand deserves so much better than you!”

“Could say the same about Hyu-”

“Finish that sentence and I’ll fucking bleach your brows in your sleep.”

“NO WAIT NOT AGAIN” He yells in panic as Chan and Changbin laugh so hard they throw themselves back, almost falling off the bed.

You had forgotten you were crying now, laughing as hard as you witnessed the people around you. Hyunjin and Mini, Chan and Changbin, Jeongin, and Jisung who had moved his hand to yours and was now rubbing circles on the top of your hand with his thumb. Six new people, who like Keeho, somehow managed to make you feel a bit better about everything.

“Thanks, all of you.” you whisper,

“For?” Changbin asks,

“Everything. Letting me stay here, and especially what happened just now. I means alot.”

“You’re a part of us now Y/N.” Chan says, “We wouldn’t let it slide for anyone, but especially not you.”

“We care about you,” Hyunjin smiles sweetly as he sits up, “Wasn’t the first time we had to do it either, I remember when we had to go off on Mini’s dad.”

“Yo fuck that guy.” Changbin huffs,

“Ay, don’t turn this around on me Hyunnie. Also true but still.” Mini sighs, “Like I said, we might still not really know each other but you’re our friend now Y/N, sorry but you’re stuck with us now!”

“Until the others come home, we’ll be your new body guards,” Jisung jokes, as he references how Taeyang, Intak, and Keeho gave themselves the title. “Specifically Mini tho, that bitch is like a rabid animal when she’s angry.”

“She gets angry?” You asked, from the looks of everything that happened she was the calmest one there.

“Unfortunately,” Hyunjin sighs, shuddering at whatever memory popped into his head. The others laugh as Hyunjin makes a worried face. Their laughs are contagious. Their energy. Is contagious. If the energy this group of people carried were a sickness, people would never want to find a cure. You laugh alongside them as Mini hits Hyunjin with a pillow, defending herself saying she only gets angry at games. They’re a family. I can trust them. You think to yourself as you watch Jeongin and Changbin try to protect Hyunjin from the assault. As Chan yelled out that he’d call for backup, pulling out his phone to call the other members, as you laughed loudly with the rest of them; as Jisung admired your smile.

Tag List: @g4m3girl @channiesbub@dugarzaddy@fairywriter-oracle@skzloveforever Thank you for letting me tag you <3

#han jisung x female reader #han jisung fluff #skz han #stray kids han #han jisung #han jisung x you #han jisung x reader #han jisung x y/n #stray kids #skz fluff #stray kids fluff #stray kids x reader #stray kids fan fic #stray kids fic #han jisung fic #stray kids jisung

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mortemoppetere · 5 months ago

Text

TIMING: sometime while teddy was in canada PARTIES: @mayihaveyournameplease & @mortemoppetere LOCATION: a seedy bar SUMMARY: emilio and beau meet in a crowded bar. it is not love at first sight. CONTENT WARNINGS: unsanitary tw

The bar wasn’t crowded, but it wasn’t empty. People mingled, the smell of alcohol wafted with perfume and B.O. Beau made eyes at anyone who would look at him. Which wasn’t a lot of people. Most of their eyes seem to glance right over him. Why people didn’t look down was unbelievable. He wasn’t even that short. And short kings were in! Didn’t they know that? Beau nursed his drink, a little sullenly, a lot seductively to anyone who dared look at him. No one approached. He was going to have to make his own move. That’s when Beau saw him. Mr. Right. Fluffy hair, leather jacket, moody scowl. He drank like he didn’t care if he lived or died tomorrow. Beau liked that in a person, it screamed depression. Depression screamed vulnerability.

Beau siddled on up to the beautiful stranger, bottom lip bit, hands in his pocket, eyes on seductive mode. “Hey handsome, come here often.” It was the first thing Beau thought to say because he wished someone would say that to him. Wouldn’t that be novel? He was very handsome after all, it would be a compliment to get called handsome. “Why don’t you buy me a drink and we talk for a bit.” He winked, sliding into the chair next to medium height, dark and handsome. “I’m Beau, can I have your name?”

—

He got stir crazy, sometimes. Usually when he was stressed out, when the walls of whatever room he was in started shifting into ones he’d left behind years ago with blood on the paint and bodies on the floor. He felt uneasy in his own skin, like someone was watching him even when he was home alone. On those days, he’d found it was easier to be out and about and around people.

And alcohol. He always needed alcohol.

It made a bar the perfect setting, especially on a night like tonight. It wasn’t crowded enough to be stifling, but wasn’t empty enough to be uncomfortable. Emilio sat in front of the bartender, drinking his whiskey in silence. The poor guy had tried making conversation at first, but Emilio had tipped him a little extra and waved him away, making it clear that he wasn’t in the mood. The bartender got the memo.

Apparently, the bar’s patrons didn’t.

Emilio tensed as someone slid up next to him, nostrils flaring in quiet irritation as the man spoke. Months ago, if he were feeling the way he was feeling now, he probably would have interrupted the come on to ask the man to fuck in the bathroom just to give himself an outlet, but things were different now. There was Teddy, and while they hadn’t quite talked about exclusivity, Emilio didn’t want anyone else. “No,” he replied flatly, not looking up from his drink.

After a moment, he held up his left hand and tapped his wedding ring. He wasn’t technically married anymore – he didn’t think it counted when the person who’d put the ring on your finger had been dead two years – but the ring got him out of conversations like this one. People were a lot more willing to accept that than they were an explanation that you were dating someone. “Try someone else.”

—

“Haha,” Rejection used to send a ripple of rage down Beau. It used to drive anger to the surface, a boiling pot overflowing and burning the stovetop. “You’re not very nice, are you? Haha. That’s okay, I’m also known for being mid-height, mysterious and brooding.” Now rejection didn’t bring anger, because Beau was always angry. It was always bristling under the surface, a full moodlet that couldn’t possibly fill more. It’s just, the people of this town didn’t respect him enough. They were all so self obsessed. They didn’t care about people other than themselves, like say, the extremely handsome brunette with the big fuck me eyes that just wanted everyone to fall over themselves for the chance to talk to that loveable stranger.

But see, there was a fundamental problem with Beau (if you didn’t include everything about him) he just couldn’t take no for an answer! His legs swung off the bar stool as he smiled up at the stranger. The smile burned his cheeks as it fought the rage, but he was good at smiling. Everyone thought his smile was charming because he practiced it constantly. He really worked hard to be the most likable guy in town, if only people would get out of their asses long enough to notice. “Haha,” He added, for good measure, because the rage inside him wanted an outlet. Like punching a wall, but nice guys didn’t punch walls. They smiled and said haha.

“Try someone else?” Beau took a sip of his drink, it was fruity and sweet. He hated the taste of alcohol, and how bitter it was. “Can’t two extremely hot men have a friendly conversation without such hostility? Haha, whatever happened to kindness? Don’t people ever want to make friends anymore? We could be friends.” Beau batted his extremely long and beautiful eyelashes, that to anyone else might look like he had something in his eye. “Say, you’d look better if you smiled. Come on. Let's see a smile.”

—

“No, I’m not,” Emilio agreed. Nice, he thought, was too often a mask that people wore. Most people were shit. They were bundles of rage and selfishness held together by blood and bone. Kindness existed, of course — kindness was in Wynne’s tendency to leave food on the counter for him, or Teddy’s insistence of pausing the movie they were watching any time Emilio needed to get up and walk around — but nice was different than kind. Nice was less honest. Emilio didn’t think he was particularly kind, but he knew he wasn’t nice. He disliked lying too much to be that.

Irritation was a distant thing in his chest as the man continued speaking, because he’d really hoped he’d walk away. He wasn’t in the mood to speak to anyone, and he especially didn’t think he was in the mood to speak to this person. He no longer enjoyed people who approached him in bars only to hit on him. It felt boring to him now, like something unable to hold his interest for long. “I am not being mysterious or brooding.” He was only mostly sure what those words meant. “I am drinking. I want to keep drinking. I don’t want to talk.”

But the man just kept going. He told Emilio to smile, and the irritation moved closer to the surface. “I have enough friends, I think. I’m sure you can find one somewhere else. Over there, maybe. Or in another bar. Maybe another city. I think this would be fun for you.” As long as you get away from me, he thought.

—

At least this guy knew he was an asshole. Beau swung his legs (being too short for his feet to touch the ground) his feet thudding against the bar. “You could be, if you tried. I’m nice. See? This is me being so nice to you. Isn’t that nice? It’s really nice. So maybe you should take a turn and be nice too. Then we can be nice to each other. Isn’t that how friends are made? Whatever happened to community? Do people not care about community anymore? I care about community and you’re in my community so I’m being nice to you. And that’s nice, don’t you think? Isn’t it lovely being nice?” Beau was good at talking. A lot better than this guy. He wasn’t even trying to have a conversation. It was like he wanted to be rude. On purpose. God, Beau could not stand people sometimes.

Beau started laughing. “You know what you remind me of? A caveman? You’re like all grrr scowl scowl. Not the guy who invented fire or the wheel. Those cavemen were probably nice, and probably didn’t spend all their time sitting by themselves. Fire guy probably wanted to keep all his friends warm, while they were drinking together. Because you know you can drink and talk, right? Maybe they didn’t have that in your cave, but people have been doing it for centuries now.” Beau took a big sip of his drink, just to give the man an example. It really seemed like he needed it; “And the guy who invented the wheel probably wanted to help people. He was probably talking to the people in his community and realized he could provide a service that no one else could! A wheel! Isn’t that fun? That’s so fun. Maybe you should think about that, while you’re sitting alone in your cave.”

“It’s okay to admit you have no friends. I would believe you. I really would.” Beau could take a hint. The thing was, he chose not to. “Say, how about I be your first? On the house. Because you don’t know what it’s like, and I? Well I have lots of people who I call friend.” There was a distinction between having a lot of friends and having people you call friend. After all, Beau was comfortable calling anyone a friend. “Let's kick it off. Why don’t you give me your name?”

—

“It would be nice,” Emilio said slowly, “if you talked less.” Christ, he could hardly keep up with what this guy was saying. The repetition of the same words over and over again made his head spin a little, his uneasy grasp on the English language struggling to keep up with the barrage of verbal bullshit being flung in his direction. Some people, Emilio had learned, just liked to hear themselves speak. They’d say just about anything so long as it meant their mouths got to keep moving. Sometimes, it could be almost charming — Jade liked to talk, and he didn’t mind her — but other times? It was beyond annoying. This man fell firmly into the latter category.

The man who was still. Fucking. Talking. He was droning on about cavemen now, and Emilio tried to tune him out. He took a swig of his whiskey, sighing as the stranger went on and on and on. What was with this guy? Did he know how to shut up? Emilio’s fingers twitched. He’d be lying if he said there was no part of him that wanted to rear back and take a swing at the man just for irritating him. He’d been up to his ears in problems lately, and his temper was shorter than usual as a result. But you couldn’t punch strangers just for being annoying unless you wanted to be kicked out of bars, and there were only a few left in Wicked’s Rest that would still grant him entry.

Finally, the guy seemed to tire of his own voice enough to ask Emilio a question. The brief pause that followed was almost a relief. “Sure, I’ll give you my name,” he said. “It’s ‘Fuck Off.’ You want me to spell it out for you? F… U… C…” He trailed off, downing the rest of his drink and waving to the bartender for another. “Look, cabrón, there are plenty of other people in this bar. Go bother one of them. I’m not in the mood for it.”

—

“Oh, you don’t know how to spell fuck do you. There is a k at the end.” Beau was laughing. It was radiating off him in the same air that kept Cherynobl too hostile to reinhabit. “You really are a caveman. That’s okay. I find it endearing.” Beau was fluent in Spanish, which should be noted about him, or he might have said that cabrón wasn’t a word. Alas, this wasn’t the first time he’d been called cabrón and it probably wasn’t going to be the last. The word slid right off him, like water sliding off a little baby duck’s back. He figured it was because of the horns, goats had horns, and the literal translation was a male goat. Thus, he’d never figured out that it was used as a curse.

Beau knew this anger. Because the truth is, he was angry once. (If you ignored the fact that he was angry every day, every day the way people treated him was wrong, every day people didn’t respect him the way he deserved, every day they didn’t love him when he was the most loveable person anyone had ever met.) That had been when he was lonely and didn’t have friends. Now he had so many friends and no reason to be angry and sad! He could help here! Some people just needed a little crack in that silly little eggshell. And then he’d probably be so grateful and fall madly deeply in love with Beau and worship Beau for the rest of his life. And that would be nice because his hair was fluffy and cute.

“If I leave now, we’ll never become friends. Hahaha, and don’t you know that it’s up to the extrovert to pick up the introvert? Lucky you! This is introvert adoption day and I’m choosing you to bring home with me.” Beau threw in a wink. He was good at winking because he practiced them in the mirror. Anything to make sure people realize how cute and handsome he is. Beau reached forward and tapped a cute little boop against the man’s nose, sealing the deal. Adoption complete.

—

Emilio wondered, absently, how many times this man had been punched throughout the course of his life. He imagined the number was a high one, figured it was something that happened often. Mentally, he began going down the list of people he’d call to bail him out of a holding cell when this interaction, inevitably, ended the way he imagined so many of this guy’s must have. There was no way in hell he’d bother Nora or Wynne for it, Teddy was still in Canada, Xóchitl had more than enough going on, things with Jade were tense… Would Kavanagh bail him out if he called her? He was pretty sure Kaden would leave him in the cell and take photos. Javi might pick him up, but he’d probably demand Emilio pay his bar tab in exchange, and that didn’t sound particularly fun.

The action of mentally scrolling through the list of people he’d likely owe a favor to by the end of the night served to calm him a little, if only because it distracted him from the irritating babble spewing from the man beside him. Emilio poured a little more whiskey down his throat, swallowing the burn and letting it settle in his chest. The man was still going. His fingers twitched, yearning to clench themselves into a tight fist and make contact with a nose that didn’t look nearly broken enough to reflect the current level of irritation the stranger was responsible for.

Maybe Teddy would come back from Canada just to bail him out if he knew the situation.

“I don’t want,” Emilio said slowly, “to be your friend. I have said this already. How many times should I repeat before you realize? Do I need to say it another way? No quiero ser tu amigo. I am not going home with you.” A hand reached out, finger tapping his nose, and it took all the self control Emilio had not to start swinging. “If you touch me again,” he said lowly, “I am going to punch you very hard in your face.”

—

“Haha, woah! Who said anything about coming home with me. You’re so full of yourself. Haha. It takes a lot more than one drink to come home with someone of my caliber.” The only reason this didn’t qualify as a lie was because no one had ever come home with Beau after one drink. Fae magic really was full of loopholes, as long as you knew how to work your intentions right. “I’m more of a take me to dinner, and seduce me, kind of guy, haha. Don’t you know the type? Haha. The type is me.” Beau lived in the blissful place where rejection meant nothing. There was no anxiety riddling his chest with thoughts that reminded him actions had consequences. Sure, he’d been met with many consequences for his actions through the year, but every time Beau decided that was the exception to the rule. The rule being, he was perfect and nothing else bad could possibly ever happen to him.

“Haha, I’m just being friendly. You’re being really rude, you know that right?” Beau batted his beautiful eyelashes. “Do you always try to bring home friends you make? Haha. You must be really into board games or something.” He was being purposefully obtuse. That was another thing about rejection. As long as you twisted your words, and pretended your intention was different, then they were the ones being weird to reject. They were the people being the problem. They were making assumptions when Beau? He was just being a nice little guy. He was being friendly. He was always friendly. That’s why his cheeks always hurt from smiling and why he was always ignoring the inferno burning inside of him.

“You know, anger looks ugly on you, haha. My mom used to tell me that anger makes a person ugly. It ruins their face and it scars their soul, haha, you don’t want to have a scarred soul because you were mean to a stranger who just wanted to be your friend, do you?” He put on the pouting face, the kind you would see from a child on television series, that always worked to get them their way. He wouldn’t call it a puppy dog face, because all puppies he had met were brats that piddled everywhere. Beau was better than any puppy. He never piddled anywhere he wasn’t supposed to.

—

An argument bubbled up in Emilio’s chest. He had mentioned taking Emilio home with him, had talked of adoption, and Emilio realized belatedly that it was some kind of metaphor too complicated to squeeze through the ever-present language barrier that sat between him and an English conversation. But arguing with this man meant carrying on speaking to him, and Emilio had little desire to do that. All he wanted was to sit and to drink and to pretend that nothing in his life was falling to pieces. “I do not like dinners,” he said instead of arguing, “so you should go find someone who does.”

But the guy just kept fucking talking. No amount of rudeness was making him leave, despite the fact that he was happy to point out aforementioned rudeness. “Yes. I am being rude. Which means you can go. There are other people in this bar you could bother. Most of them probably won’t punch you.” The unspoken addition to the statement being that Emilio would, if the guy didn’t fuck off soon. He wasn’t particularly good at swallowing his anger or his irritation; there’d never been enough room in his chest to house it all without it spilling over.

“I don’t care about my soul.” He was pretty sure he’d lost it a long time ago, anyway. “I’m angry. You being here is making me more angry.” What the fuck was he doing with his face? The guy looked like he was trying to take a shit. Emilio gripped his glass a little tighter, loosening his hold only when he heard the beginnings of it creaking. Shattering the glass wouldn’t end any better than punching this man would. It would actually be less satisfying.

—

“Everyone likes dinner.” Beau informed this man and that was kind of him. It was kind of him to correct this man who clearly knew nothing, not even about himself. How did Beau keep finding himself in these situations? Across from hopeless people who needed a calm guiding hand. Really he should open a charity for how many helpless and clueless people he ended up helping. Maybe that would be tax deductible. Oh, he’d like that a lot. Beau’s eyes flitted up and down his newest tax deduction, wondering just how much he could save. “Everyone eats. It’s part of being alive. Haha. Everyone likes dinner. Especially with me.” That was a bold statement, but he had nothing to back it up. Because no one ever wanted to eat dinner with him. He was tired of eating alone, if he was being honest.

“Acceptance is the first step to change, haha.” This conversation could be going better if this man would stop trying to send him away every five minutes. At least he knew he was being rude. “Today is the perfect day for change, haha. No one is going to punch me. Look at me.” Beau planted his chin on the palm of his hand, smiling up at the stranger. “I’m too cute to punch. You wouldn’t punch a little guy, right? I’m just a little friend. No one wants to punch me. That wouldn’t be fun. Oh, is that what you’re into? Bar fights? I’ll help you start one. I’m not a fighter, but I’ll watch. Everyone has their hobbies, haha.”

“Angry is good. You’ll need that in the bar fight.” Beau turned around, leaning his back against the bar as he scanned the crowd. Who looked the most punchable. Beau eyed the crowd slowly. Who looked good, who looked good… Him. Beau spotted the beefiest man in the crowd. That man looked like he could punch. “Be right back, amigo.” Beau slid off the bar and marched his way across the room. If Emilio was curious enough to watch, he would see Beau march up to the strange man, make him bend down to whisper something in his ear and point at Emilio across the bar. The man got angry fast, skin turning a deep red as he shouted. It was just like a scene from a movie. The music stopped, the crowd parted. The man marched over to Emilio and swung a punch. Beau scrambled behind, grabbing his drink and moving the side to watch with delight.

—

This man was sitting across from him and telling him that he was wrong, not about something objective but about himself. It grated on Emilio in a way few other things could manage, made his jaw tighten and his body feel hot. He was familiar with the kind of rage that was washing over him now, knew it better than he’d ever known anything else. Throughout his life, few things had been as constant as his anger. His short temper was something his mother had often tried to hone, to weaponize. Few emotions were though useful for hunters, but rage could be sharpened into a knife with relative ease. He was itching to use that blade now, holding back by reminding himself over and over and over again that he was in public, that this idiot was probably human, that you really couldn’t kill people just for being annoying.

“I am going to punch you,” Emilio said. “I do want to punch you. I don’t care if you are a little guy. You’re very annoying.” Maybe threatening him would make him go, or maybe Emilio would have to actually take a swing. He almost hoped for the latter; with the irritation building in his chest, he thought punching this man might be good for him. The man was still prattling on, talking about barfights and hobbies and Emilio wanted nothing more than for him to shut up. He tuned him out, trying to focus on the drink in his hand.

After a moment, the man left. Relief felt like a flood washing over Emilio; he wasn’t attentive enough to recognize that the stranger planned to return, or to pick up on what his plan was. He leaned over the bar, ready to ask the bartender to pour him another drink, when someone walked over and took a swing at him. It was through a lifetime of training that Emilio dodged the attack despite the lack of attention he had paid to its arrival, ducking beneath the fist and sliding out of the barstool to stand. “What the fuck is wrong with you?” He dodged another fist. This one slammed into the person who’d been seated on Emilio’s other side, who took enough offense to the assault to get to his feet as well. A chain reaction started around the bar as drunk patrons began to join the fray.

—

Beau didn’t like fighting. It was brutish. People who needed to fight weren’t intune with their emotions. They weren't smart enough to have eloquent conversations that positioned them into getting what they wanted. They were dumb. Probably from taking too many punches to the head. However, if his little introvert wanted to fight, then his introvert would fight! That was how kind Beau was. If he’d said it once, he’d said it a hundred times. He was Beaunevolant. The big man came over swinging. His little introvert dodged, and that was cute. Go little buddy! Beau was sure to cheer silently in his head, as not to draw attention to himself. He vehemently did not want to get dragged into this fight.

A full out scene was beginning to establish in the bar. One person turned into five turned into twenty. It really felt like everyone was fighting. Beau giggled as he watched. How simple humans were, always falling for the tricks of fae. He tracked down his introvert, a true and pleased smile on his features. “Are you having fun yet?” He asked, ducking under a table and looking up as he asked. He had to be extra careful no one punched him. His face was the money maker after all. And what if they broke one of his horns? That would be a damn shame. “A fight for you to punch people! Just like you wanted!”

—

To Emilio, a fight made more sense than a conversation. Words were difficult to understand, especially in English. Most of the time, people spoke too quickly for him to keep up. He couldn’t quite wrap his mind around what they were saying, couldn’t translate it into something understandable before they’d moved on into talking about something else entirely. Throwing a punch was the same in every country. Violence transcended the language barrier in a way nothing else ever really could, made complicated things simple. Emilio didn’t know how to talk to people nearly as well as he knew how to hurt them. He hadn’t been looking for a fight tonight — and that was a rare thing on its own — but here he was in the midst of one all the same.

He probably liked it a little more than he should have.

It was only when the insufferable little man returned that Emilio realized how the fight had started. This, of course, took a little bit of the fun out of the whole ordeal. The last thing he wanted was to give the stranger anything he might enjoy. “I wanted,” he grunted, catching a fist that was thrown his way and shoving it backwards into the face of the very man who’d thrown it, “to punch you. I still want to punch you.” Maybe a little more now, all things considered.

—

“Haha! There you go being rude again.” Beau let his laughter roll over the noise of a fighting crowd. This was far from this first observed bar fight, but he did find it to be a dull past time. What did fists get done that words couldn’t? Beau kept himself safely under the table, making sure no violence would breach his bubble. “Don’t punch me! I’m not very punchable, honestly. Besides, I’m too hot. Hot people don’t get punched. That might ruin their hotness, and then who will you stare at and think “Wow he’s so hot?” Beau let a fresh wave of laughter out. “Just kidding, just kidding. How long do you think this fight is going to take you?”

—

God the man was annoying. The more he spoke, the more he grated on Emilio’s nerves. And maybe that would have been fine, if not for the fact that he just kept talking. It was like he had no idea how to shut up. Each word was another nail scraping the proverbial chalkboard of Emilio’s mind until, finally, he lost his patience for it. Turning towards the man, Emilio reared back his fist and swung, the resounding crack one that seemed to reverberate through the bar even over the chaos. The man went down, and the talking finally seemed to cease. Emilio sighed, relief washing over him in spite of the chaos.

Leaning down to the now unconscious stranger, Emilio dug around in his pocket until he found a wallet. He pulled out a few bills and set them on the counter amidst the chaos, placing his empty glass on top of them to keep them from being blown away. Making eye contact with the bartender, who looked exhausted, he added a couple extra to the pile. Then, dropping the wallet on the irritating man’s chest, Emilio stepped over the guy and made his way towards the door.

If this was what socializing got him, he’d much rather just drink at home.

#mayihaveyournameplease #beau: kiss with a fist #wickedswriting

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everybodyshusband · 6 months ago

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cold love hot blood

dewdrop, dewdrop & mountain (the band ghost)

mature | gen. | 7.2k words | hurt no comfort, self harm, graphic descriptions of blood/injury, dead dove: do not eat, self-hatred, circular narrative, water ghoul dew, unreliable narrator

—i posted this fic to my ao3 almost a year ago then took it down but it's going back up all because three whole people said they'd be interested to see it back up ksdfjsdfj please mind the tags, know your limits and if you're not in a place where it's safe for you to read this fic then please don't. compromising your safety for a work of fiction isn't worth it i promise you. come back later (or not at all if that's what's best for you <3)

*disclaimer that is mostly for the tumblr staff in the event of an(other) attempted nuking of my account: this is NOT "content that urges or encourages others to: cut or injure themselves; or commit suicide rather than, seeking counselling or treatment." i believe in and support recovery and this is a fictional narrative depicting a person who is not yet at that stage, which i believe is an important story to tell in regards to "joining together in supportive conversation with those suffering or recovering from depression or other conditions" as well as opening up a "dialogue about these behaviours" as they are indeed "incredibly important" and i do believe that "online communities can be extraordinarily helpful to people struggling with these difficult conditions." (quotes taken directly from the guidelines you so kindly sent me a few months ago)

snippet and ao3 link under the cut !!

It takes a while, but when Dewdrop doesn’t respond, Mountain’s voice drops in volume when he next speaks, presumably making sure no one else will be able to hear him. How considerate, Dewdrop thinks, his internal voice dripping with sarcasm. “I’m not leaving until I know you’re going to be safe, and if that means I have to break this door down to get to you, mark my words, droplet, I will.”

With all the events of today swirling around in his head, Dewdrop barely registers the words; they float into his head, muffled, as if he’s underwater. He doesn’t know what drowning feels like in this body—and he knows he never will, that it’s just not possible for a water ghoul to drown, no matter how much he may wish he could—but he’s sure it can’t be dissimilar to this. He can’t hear. He can’t see.

He can’t breathe.

Everything’s catching up to him again. The emotions from earlier that caused him to do this in the first place—gone for the short while in which he turned his efforts towards self-mutilation are—now returning in full force. And that, along with the sting in his arms and thighs, and Mountain’s apparent concern for him are just too many things for his fucked-up, rotted-through, useless self to handle all at once. Dewdrop knows the earth ghoul doesn’t really care. All he’s doing is dishing out mandated, insincere affections in the hopes that Dewdrop will believe him and Mountain will be able to avoid the trouble of having to deal with the water ghoul properly later on after a reprimand from their Papa. After all, he’s just Dewdrop. Why would Mountain even care anyway?

Dewdrop really doesn’t know what to do. There’s so much happening in his head, and he doesn’t know how to handle any of it. He squeezes his eyes shut tightly, raising his arms to dig the palms of his hands as harshly as he can against the sockets. Maybe if he pushes his eyes back into his skull he won’t have to see the messes he’s created; the web of lies that Mountain has been slowly unravelling without Dewdrop’s knowledge, and the crimson glazed tiles he’s standing on. He keeps his eyes closed but removes his palms from where they’re putting pressure on the sockets and fights back the urge to scream. When he finally opens his eyes again, the room spins in front of him and he feels himself slump against the sink, trying and failing to catch himself with weak arms before he falls. He knocks something off the sink in his fruitless effort to keep himself upright, and whatever it is clatters to the floor alongside Dewdrop, smashing everywhere. It must have been the ceramic soap dispenser the new air summon had so painstakingly made barely a week ago. She’d spent hours fussing over every little detail, taking days to create a proper design, never resting until she was sure it was perfect. It’s broken now. Irreparable. Useless. At least we match, Dewdrop thinks, somewhat deliriously. His blade clatters against the broken clay as it falls to the floor alongside him. It’s not of any consequence. It’s only his lifeline after all.

[read the rest on ao3 !!]

#husband writes #dewdrop ghoul #mountain ghoul #nameless ghouls #the band ghost #aether's also there but i don't know if he's there enough to tag him jsdhbfhsdkfdsf #tw self harm #tw self harm fic

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acourtofwillowsandleaves · 6 months ago

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WIP

This is literally the first fanfic I have ever written. Please don't judge me because I am ✨sensitive✨. Be kind, this is just for fun and like kind of as a way for me to vent my feelings. Big trigger warning for suicide and like mental health stuff...anyways. Here is the first "chapter" I guess. Idk where I'll be going with it but yeah 💁‍♀️

The Tortured Souls Department

Feyre:

“The patients are killing me today…” I huff as I sit down at the nurses station.

“Room 12 again?” Asks Clare.

“Mhmm.” I roll my eyes, resting my chin in my hand. It had been a year since I had started working here at Prythian General Hospital, specifically the psychiatric ward. I tell myself everyday like a mantra “I love my job…I love my job…you’re so lucky.” It is true, I do love my job, but some days can be difficult. Like today.

“FUUUCK!” Screams said patient in room 12. Here we go again.

“I got it, you take your break,” says Clare as she pats me on my shoulder. Clare to my rescue as always. I flash her an apologetic smile as I get up from my seat and make my way to the break room.

I make my way into the restroom. I take a deep breath as I splash some water on my face. Looking in the mirror, I look worn out. My brown hair askew - escaping from the low bun at the base of my head. My gray eyes - tired from the long shift. My full lips - chapped from running around like a chicken with my head cut off with no water breaks going on seven hours into my shift. The inner mantra starts again.

As I sit down finally to take my first sip of water all day, my work phone rings.

“Hello?”

“Feyre, you’re getting an admission. When you come back from your lunch come see me.” Says our dutiful unit secretary.

Another poor soul that needs our help.

I gratefully scarf down my lunch, savoring the short thirty minutes that I have all to myself. I think about what my new admission will be like. Will they be sad, lonely, and depressed? Will they be bouncing off the walls with mania? Talking to the demons in their own mind, plagued with schizophrenia? The possibilities are endless, these are the kind of people I love to help. Unfortunately for them, they are stuck here. This beige and white purgatory. When I am alone I often think about what it would be like if the roles were reversed. What if I was in their place? I shudder at the thought. I see patients that look like zombies. Endlessly wandering with this blank look in their eyes. It’s the cost helping them sometimes. They turn into a zombie.

I walk slowly to our unit office where the clerk is. Up the stairs since the elevator has been broken for months. The building where I work at is part of the old section of the hospital. Meaning it hasn’t been renovated probably since the 1980s.

“Hey, Az. What’s up?” Azriel is our unit secretary. He answers the phones and keeps an eye on the surveillance cameras.

“Can you give the ER a call when you get a chance? You’re getting this guy, Rhysand. He’s a druggie or whatever.” Azriel waves his hand dismissively at me, urging me to call for report.

I haven’t had a chance to look in his chart yet, but I am eager to get started on my new admit. The sooner I get it done, the sooner it will be over. I sit down at the desk, pen and paper in hand and dial the extension to the ER.

——————

Rhys:

Black. That’s all there was. All there is. I am no where. But - there’s a light. It starts out tiny, then it keeps growing. And growing. And suddenly I am back.

I reach back for the darkness but it’s too late.

I’m being shaken. Quite forcefully.

It didn’t work. Dammit.

“Let’s get an IV in him, an eighteen gauge please. Normal saline, run it wide open. We need to get his pressure up.”

I crack my eyes open to see. I’m in the hospital. No. No. No. I need to leave. Need to get out. Need to run.

“You’re not going anywhere buddy, lay back down.” Suddenly I feel weak and everything goes dark again.

“Oh shit…”

——————

“Rhysand….Rhysand. Rhys.” A familiar voice. I’m not dead, I think. I open my eyes and see my cousin, Mor, sitting inches from my face. There’s tears streaming from her chocolate brown eyes.

“I’m sorry…” I try to speak but my voice only comes out as a whisper.

She smacks me on the shoulder, “Don’t you ever do that again! Do you hear me?! I can’t take it anymore, Rhys! You need help.”

I look away, I’m ashamed. It all started when I was coerced into a relationship with a woman. Amarantha. It started out as a joke, us fake-dating. It was a prank for our friends at school. But then she took advantage of me. Blackmailed me and forced me to do things with her. I hated it. Hated her. That went on for about a year. I couldn’t escape. She would force me to go to parties with her. It eventually led to me trying pills for the first time. I loved how I felt. It numbed the pain. Now she’s in prison, but I still have the pills. I can’t stop. I was tired of the nightmares. I wanted it all to end.

“You can’t make me…”

“Yes I can.” She says, defiantly.

I sigh, she always gets her way. We’re both orphans essentially. Her family betrayed her, kicked her out at sixteen. My parents are dead. We only have each other. I guess I was selfish for wanting to die. It would have left her all alone in this world.

“I’ll be right back, I’m gonna go talk to the nurse.” She leaves her place by my bedside and exits the room.

They can’t keep me. I have to get out of here.

I rip out the IV attached to my arm, it stings a little but I’ve been through worse. My clothes are neatly folded on a chair across from my bed. I slowly creep my way out of bed and put my clothes on. “Ok, be cool, be cool.” I open the flimsy curtain and tiptoe my way out of my hospital room.

“He’s trying to leave! Someone get that man back to his room!” Someone yells from down the hall.

Shit. I break out into a sprint but I have no idea where the exit is.

The next thing I know, I am being tackled to the floor. A large, muscular security guard pins my hands behind my back.

“Hey!” I yelp. I am dragged back to my room, kicking and flailing the entire way. They can’t do this, they’re holding me hostage! For trying to kill myself? Is that suddenly a crime? I swing my arm in a random direction, it makes contact with something pointy and I hear a crack.

“Get him in restraints. Ativan, benadryl, and, haldol going in.” I feel a sharp prick on my upper arm. I hiss in pain. My arms and legs are being held down and suddenly I am being cuffed to the bed.

“You mother…fucker….” My mouth feels like it’s full of cotton and my eyelids feel like they’re being pushed closed by some invisible force.

I am plunged into darkness again. It feels like a warm embrace.

——��———

Feyre:

I sit down at my computer in the cramped intake room. I run through my mental checklist: toiletries - check. Scrubs - check. Vital signs machine - check. Admission handouts - check. Consent forms - check. I have everything that I need. “Let’s hope this guy doesn’t beat me up,” I think to myself, crossing my fingers. My coworker, Amren, is assisting me today. She looks down at her phone, bored. A knock sounds on the door to our little room.

“Come in” I order.

It’s Cassian. My favorite security guard. His hair arranged neatly in a bun on top of his head. My eyes scan toward his face. There’s a bandage on his nose. I grimace at him. No time to make a sarcastic and witty comment to him as he wheels in my new patient. “Hey Feyre, this is Rhysand. Need me to stick around?”

“No thank you…” I drift off. Sitting in front of me is the most beautiful man I have ever seen.

It’s devastating how beautiful he is compared to the ugly situation he is in.

“Hi, you can call me Rhys.” He smiles, weakly.

I smile back at him, pulling on the purple nitrile gloves. “Feyre,” I say to him. I clear my throat and look away from his gorgeous violet eyes. “I’ll be your nurse today. And this is Amren.” I gesture to Amren.

“‘Sup.” She waves at him.

I get started on my intake with him. This poor soul. Too beautiful to be in a situation like this.

Stop it, I think to myself. He’s just like everyone else you admit into this place, get a grip on yourself. He signs all of the consent forms and answers my questions with tears in his eyes. He tried to kill himself. I’ve become so desensitized to the trauma of others, I nod and jot down what he tells me.

“But you probably don’t care…right?” He looks at me so intensely I feel like there’s a spotlight on me.

“Of course I care. I know we just met and you’re a total stranger to me. But I’m glad that you’re here to get help. I know you may not think it right now, but the world, your friends, and your family need you” I tell him, I reach out and squeeze his hand.

Something snaps in him. “I didn’t ask to be here.” He is glaring at me, his eyes burning a hole in me, shooting daggers.

“I know, and I’m sorry it had to go this way.” I apologize to him. It is a genuine apology. I’m sorry that he went through what he did. I want to kill whoever drove him to this point.

“You’re just saying that to make me feel better,” he smirks.

Well he’s right. I don’t trust the way he is glaring at me so I move on to the next part in our admission assessment. I want to get this over as fast as possible. “Ok Amren, let’s do the skin check and we’ll be done.” I look back over him apologetically. “This next part may be a little embarrassing, but I need you take off your clothes.”

His face turns bright red. “Oh so now you want to see me naked?”

“Yes.” Amen deadpans.

“Fine.” He strips off his shirt and pants. He looks like a carved statue. The kind that you see in a museum from the renaissance period. Michaelangelo’s David standing before me. If David had tattoos from head to toe that is. He does a little spin. Scars littering his back, Amren making note of them for our assessment. I pull the small curtain out from the corner of the room.

“Underwear too, Rhys. You can go behind this curtain if you’d like.” I tell him, trying to keep the tone lighthearted. I know I would be embarrassed if I was told to strip naked in front of two strangers of the opposite sex. I try to be as sensitive as I can when it comes to these situations.

“No need.” He shakes his head and drops his black underwear to the floor.

I quickly glance at his legs and backside, telling Amren I don’t see anything of note besides the tattoos. “OK. We’re done. You can pull those back on.”

I put a pair of the light blue patient scrubs in his hands for him to change into. “You can put these on.” My hand brushes his for a split second and I quickly remove my hand from his vicinity like I had been burned.

“I can’t wear my own clothes?” He asks.

“There’s vomit on your shirt,” Amen with that deadpan tone again, “Plus there’s strings in your pants. We don’t do strings here.”

“You’ll get them back before you leave, along with your cell phone and wallet.” I reassure him. He looks like a dear in the headlights - all of that cockiness leaving his face. I see genuine fear flash across his expression. “We have to go now, I’ll show you around…”

“I can’t do this…I’m scared.” He doesn’t want to be here of course. An image flashes across my mind, a memory. Like when I was five years old clinging to my mother as she dropped me off for my first day of kindergarten.

I offer my hand to him, as if he is the child that doesn’t want to fly the nest and I am the mother. He clings to my hand as if it’s a lifeline as I lead him out the door and onto the ward.

Author's Note:

Did you like it??? I don't know how to feel about it. Anyways if you or someone you know is struggling the suicide hotline is 988

#I KNOW IT'S BAD #acotar #work in progress #feyre x rhysand #rhysand #feyre archeron #alternate universe #acotar au

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mermaus · 1 year ago

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{ Crumbling Flower - ;; A Serina exploration chapter } Trigger warning: icon with blood, mentions of death, implied depression, implied suic*dal thoughts LONG POST!!!

Dusk,

A time when the world goes quiet and the darkness of the night truly starts to set in, like monsters crawling out of the depth of hell. For some, night is hell. Serina was no different, when the sun is up, she’s the perfect.. cheery princess she wants people to think she is.

She’s.. fine.. Totally fine.. THAT’S A LIE.

It was a lie she told everyone, including herself. She had to be fine, or else this new life of hers was all for nothing. Right..? This was a fresh start, so why..? Why did all her old memories come with her?

She stood alone in her room, a new fresh mirror hanging before her, one to replace the one she’s broken before. Serina felt sick to her stomach.. the makeup she applied to her skin was starting to fade, which means.. they were visible again.

Although she couldn’t truly see herself in the mirror, her crumbling psyche hiding her own visage from her out of pure self loathing and disgust. But those marks.. those.. scars, they stuck out like a sore thumb, mocking her.

She wasn’t allowed to look away, they were there for a reason. To remind her she cheated fate because she was pitied. A dark, purple black hue was on full display on her throat, hands.. they were hands. That day, it was coming back to her. Those words..

Your birth made my life worse!! Mom would love me more if you were gone!

Her hands quickly rose to her head, grasping at the hair that obscured her forehead. There were marks there too.. she could remember her own cries, her screams.. begging for it to stop as her own blood was splattered on the ground. All over.. the shovel, and her sister..

She was barely holding onto life when she was shoved into that hole, those cold, departing words before she would be buried and left to die.

No one will ever find you. You're going to rot in this hole... Goodbye, Serina.

No.. no no no no no no.. it was becoming harder to breath, her chest was feeling tight, it hurt to try.. makeitstopmakeitstopmakeitstop-

IT IS YOUR FAULT. IT'S ALL YOUR FAULT... SAY IT.

The voice in her head, it was right, oh so right.. it had to be. Being killed was her fault. Right? If she hadn’t been born, Anna.. mother never would have been so cruel to her. But, also.. father.. if it wasn’t for her, he could have left mother sooner. The people she loved.. they suffered because that vile woman created her.

If only.. if.. only..

" No... noooo...!! ”

That voice, it was her own, everything was dark.. the darkness was swallowing her whole. She needed to make it stop..

C R A S H - ! !

The sound of glass shattering echoed the room, the mirror before her crumbling to pieces as she smashed it with her own two hands.

Huff.. Huff..

Her vision was blurred, her breaths had become shallow.. and shaky.. Was this.. blood?

“Wh.. What.. did I.. ?”

#╚»★ Every tear contains a memory ;; ( In Character )#╚»★ Half demon and destined to die ;; ( Serina )#tw blood #blood tw #long post;;

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maplecornia · 1 year ago

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chapter 69

infinite stars masterlist | BTS masterlist | masterlist | playlist

𝔴𝔬𝔯𝔡 𝔠𝔬𝔲𝔫𝔱: 3.1K

𝔭𝔞𝔦𝔯𝔦𝔫𝔤: bts x female!reader

𝔤𝔢𝔫𝔯𝔢: romance | slice of life | fluff | angst

𝔰𝔲𝔪𝔪𝔞𝔯𝔶: everything could change, but one thing that will never change is the bond between you and i

The taste of damp dewdrops on your tongue, the hint of rain still playing on your skin, your mind is filled with him. The way his hand slid into yours. The tears from the sky glistening on his skin, his eyes bright and comforting against the stormy colors swirling above him. Your heart still whispers the memory of his name, your body still shivering with the places his hands had touched yours.

Love is strange, isn't it?

The way the simplest gestures, the simplest moments, can mean the world if it comes from someone you love. The way it can make you forget about everything else, save the memory of them, the feeling it felt just to be in their presence. To be beside them, even if only for a moment. Almost as though it were a special pill, a drug of some sort made just for you.

After all, your mind is so full of Tae that when Jaejin calls your name you find you had forgotten he was here.

For a moment, it was easy to forget about the way he had hurt you, and abandoned you. For a moment, his betrayal was nothing more than a fact you had accepted a long time ago. And perhaps it would have been.

If it wasn't for the lies.

Some drugs can't mask even that.

"How is she?"

His concerned gaze makes you pause for a moment. You wonder if it's time to forgive him, if even after everything that's happened you can at least forgive him for this.

But then you see the watch Mijeong got him for last Christmas.

A watch he still hasn't taken off.

A watch that got to stay with him when she had to leave him behind.

Taking a deep breath, you fix him with a silent, cold stare, letting your shoes fall haphazardly on the ground before stepping inside your home.

"If you wanted to know, you should've visited her yourself."

Jaejin sighs as you brush past him, heading towards your room.

If it were any other day perhaps he would have let you walk by, perhaps it would have gone on like it has been ever since he returned. As though the two of you were mere strangers living under the same roof. No interaction, nothing but the silence of your anger and his neverending shame.

But it is not any other day.

And Jaejin has had more than enough.

“Is this how it’s going to be?"

There is only so much a person can take before they break, and Jaejin is unwilling to let your relationship fall to pieces, especially not when he is the one to blame.

"Look, I know you’re pissed at me, and I get it okay? It's my fault. I should have never left you when you needed me, but it was my dream! If I didn't try I would've regretted it, I thought you of all people would understand."

You thought you would be angrier. You thought you would scream, fight him, push him away in a blur of tears and hot-blooded anger.

Maybe it's because you're too tired, maybe it's because you've finally put things into perspective, or maybe you can't handle the distance between someone who feels like home any more than he can...

But you don't do any of that.

Instead, you silently turn to him, your next few words a mere whisper.

"You’re an idiot.”

And if Jaejin was expecting anything, it surely wasn't this.

“What?”

Scoffing, you take your bag off your shoulder and set it down with a loud thump on the counter before fixing him with an incredulous look.

“You think I’m mad because you left?”

And at his silence, you know that you are correct. Rolling your eyes at his perplexed expression you run your hands through your hair in exasperation.

“I’m mad because you lied to me, Jae!"

“What are you talking about?”

Taking a deep breath, you fix him with a glare, trying your best to stay calm. Does he think you're stupid? Did he think that when he came home alone, you wouldn't put two and two together? Did he forget how thin your walls were?

How far was he going to take the lie until he was able to tell you the truth?

"I'm going to ask you something. And when you answer, I need it to be the truth, do you understand?"

And though he doesn't speak, he nods silently. And though you're scared to hear the truth that he's been keeping from you for years, you also know that you need to hear it come from his lips. In order for you to move on from this, for you to trust him again, you need to know.

The real reason he's grown distant from you. The real reason it was so easy for him to leave you behind. The real reason he broke his promise.

“Why did you and Mijeong break up?”

Jaejin's heart drops to his gut at the question.

And for a moment he can't find anything to say. He thought when he finally confessed, it would feel different, perhaps easier. And yet, after all this time he still can't find the words to express everything that has been building in his heart.

Especially when it comes to you.

How can he say anything when he is still irrevocably in love with Mijeong? How can he even think he has a right to dump his complex feelings on your shoulders when he doesn't even know what they mean?

So instead, he runs his hand over his face, clear anguish written on the bitter smile that plays on his lips.

“Did she tell you?”

Swallowing hard, you shake your head.

"I overheard you two talking that night.”

His heart falls deeper into the pit of despair, and he runs his hands through his hair, unable to look you in the eye. His legs suddenly weak, he walks over to the couch and holds his head helplessly in his hands as he sits.

You know.

You know and he didn't even get a chance to explain it to you.

He doesn't know what is worse.

You've seen Jaejin break down before.

When his mother left him at his grandparent's house, with nothing more than an empty promise to return soon, only to be never seen again. When he had his first heartbreak and the two of you skipped class in hopes to chase it away. When his grandfather died, and he couldn't make it in time to say goodbye.

When you left him behind, and the two of you said your first goodbye.

Each time, you've seen the very same lost look on his face. The chaos in his eyes as he tries to figure out what to do next. How to make sense of an impossible situation which fate has already decided for him. You've seen the tears and you've heard the screams of anger, you've witnessed the worst and you've been beside him through all the bad.

But this...

This is something different.

It's a side to him that he's hidden from you, that he's been trying to hide from you, and you have only just realized. It's new terrain, a dangerous one, one which you have no idea how to navigate.

And yet, it is all so painfully similar, you have to wonder if he has shown this side, but it is you who has changed. If you are looking at him with new eyes, eyes that have seen everything, and yet nothing at all.

After a moment, you join him on the couch, your voice soft when you next speak.

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

"You had enough on your plate without me burdening you.” Jaejin shakes his head, his bitter smile only growing as he tries to pretend that he is alright. "I didn't want to keep it from you, it’s just you've been through enough and I was kind of scared.”

“Of what?”

And when he turns to you, there's a look of tenderness in his eyes that you've never noticed before. That perhaps you have seen, but have been too afraid to acknowledge.

Or rather, too scared to realize what they could mean.

“The questions.”

At the response, you go silent avoiding his eyes, and he can't help the smile that appears on his face. Though brief, it's the most real flicker of happiness he's felt in your presence for a while, and it gives him hope.

Perhaps this doesn't mean that everything has to change. Perhaps the two of them can stay the same, and he doesn't have to let go of you just yet. Perhaps this small, foolish hope could become their reality.

“It’s okay, Yen, you can ask me.”

And though Yen is wary, she does. No matter the consequences, she has to know, even if it hurts her more than she could have ever expected.

“I thought you loved her.”

“I do.”

“Then why can’t you fix it?”

It takes Jaejin a moment to answer, and when he does he cannot bear to look her in the eyes. He knows what his confession means, and he doesn't know how she will react, but he also knows she deserves the truth. Even if the timing is terrible, and even if this means their relationship has been torn at the seams, she deserves to know the reason why.

“Because I'm in love with someone else.”

Yen takes a shaky breath, almost too scared to ask the next question.

"Who?"

Jaejin finally gains the courage to look at her, and when she meets his dark eyes, he can see the answer swimming deep in his irises almost as though it had always been present and she was just noticing the depth of the meaning in this moment alone.

“You already know.”

Yen goes silent and Jaejin waits for her to figure out what to say next.

Just as he always has.

Ever since they were children who leaned on each other when the world was too cruel for them to face, he's always sat afar, watching from a distance. Waiting for her to come and take his hand. Waiting for her to tell him to be brave. Waiting for her to give him the courage to fight. Waiting for her to be ready to come to him and see what he had only realized too late.

Always waiting.

In reality, he has always known the day would come when her smile would change towards him. When she would no longer be as warm and welcoming as she was when she was blind to his feelings and never had to bear witness to his selfishness.

He just was never ready for the day to come.

"I don't believe you."

And perhaps neither was she.

"Yen..."

"No! If you loved me, then why didn't you tell me?" As you look at him now, he can see the anguish behind your growing tears. "You knew how I felt about you, but you were the one who drew the line. You were the one who told me we couldn't be anything but friends."

He wonders how many times he has hurt you. How many times he has betrayed you. How many times he has broken all of his promises toward you just because he was scared of his feelings.

"I didn't realize it until you were already gone, and by then it was too late."

And yet he is still selfish enough to want you to stay like you always have. Because he doesn't want to let you go, because you are the closest thing to home he has left, and perhaps that is the scariest thought of all. Knowing you have someone who you rely on in that way, someone you need as much as the air you breathe.

"That day I ran to you at the airport, that was me trying to confess, but I couldn't do it."

But does that mean it's love?

Can it be anything else?

"I wonder why."

You don't know what to say.

Jaejin was your first love. A childhood crush you never quite got over, even when you said your final goodbyes. You always looked to him for everything, relied on him for everything, he was always there. You viewed him as your knight in shining armor. Someone who could complete your fairy tale ending almost as easily as he had repaired your broken heart. He carried a piece of it and faithfully kept it alive and beating. To this day he still harbors it close just as you cherish the piece he has given to you.

But over time the love you had for him faded into an affection for a friend, a brother. You will always love him, and he will always carry with him the memories of your youth, but the world you had built with him has long been left in the past, and that's where you thought it would stay.

But now...

“Mijeong knew." Your eyes widen at the confession, and as you look at him now you can see just how wretched he is. Just how much these feelings have torn him apart from the inside out. "She knew even before we started dating. She’s the one who wanted to start this, even when she knew I still loved you.”

“Why?”

Jaejin smiles to himself at one of the many memories when Mijeong was still by his side. And though she will never know how he feels about her, he will always keep these memories they shared safe in the rose-tinted hue of perfection. For if he didn't, what more would he have than the darkening hatred of his own betrayal?

“That’s something only she knows.”

The thought perplexes you more than you thought it would. How could you love someone who you knew would never love you back? Even if there were some hint that you could sway their heart, wouldn't it be painful? Wouldn't it tear you apart to know that the person you wanted the most in the world still had feelings for someone else?

How cruel can love be that that kind of distress would be worth it, if only it meant you could stay by their side for just a little bit longer?

“Don’t worry about us, Yen. We’ll be okay. After all, we were friends before this, that’s not going to change.”

Swallowing hard, you stare at your hands.

“What about us?” Jaejin's eyes widen, and he turns to you, but you're unable to face him. You don't want to lose him, you don't want to let go of another piece of your home. Even if things have changed, does that mean you have to as well? “We’ll still be friends right?”

And as his fears are finally voiced, his desperation grows, and on impulse, he takes your hands in his own, pulling you into a tight hug.

You don't know what it is.

Maybe it's the nostalgia that's mixed with his scent of strawberries and crisp cologne, or perhaps the fact that this is the first time you've hugged him since he's returned. Or maybe it's simply because you've needed him for far too long that now that his arms are around you once more, it's become too much for you to bear.

No matter the reason, once he's enveloped you in the familiar cocoon of safety and warmth you allow the tears that have been building up to release. All of your fears finally come to fruition as you cling tightly to him, and he grips tightly to you.

“Always." You nearly deflate in relief at the reassurance and respond by wrapping your arms tighter around his midsection. "I’m here for the long run, Yen, I won’t ever leave your side again."

If there is one thing Jaejin knows, it's that it doesn't matter how Yen feels. It's okay if she doesn't love him the way he does. He never needed her to love him, he just needed her by his side. Perhaps that is the real reason he didn't tell her how he felt before it was too late. Perhaps that's why he let her go.

"I can deal with my feelings, I’ve been dealing with them for years, so please don’t worry about this. Concentrate on yourself, and I can figure out what I want.” Pulling away, he takes her face into his hands and squeezes it, snot, tears, and all. “I’m the only one who can do that, no one else should be the one to carry that burden."

If all she needs from him is a friend, then that is all he will be. That alone is enough.

"That’s too much to ask of anyone.”

And when he says that phrase, you finally understand.

Why he and Mijeong leaned on each other, and why he had to let her go.

But before you can say anything more, he presses a kiss on your forehead before standing and walking away.

"Wait, Jae--"

"A little bird once told me to live my life to the fullest, without any regrets."

You blink in shock as he repeats the words you told him when you left him behind, leaving you speechless. Turning around, he smiles at you, and you are taken back to the moment when you first met him. For that is the same smile he sent your way, the same look he gave you that turned him into your Prince Charming.

“I hope you remember that when you’re on that stage."

Even though everything has changed, some things still stay the same.

And you hope your friendship, just like when you were the two fragile kids all those years ago, will never sway.

"Good luck, little birdy.”

And with that, he turns around, leaving you alone.

Is it okay to live your life to your fullest? Is it okay to be just a little selfish, and ask for a little more than you know you deserve?

In the dark, the only light you can see is the stars that glimmer outside.

When you were younger, you would chase those very same stars, and now as you step out onto the balcony, you view them with the same wonder; the same fears. You're so close to your dream, so close to becoming one of the stars burning bright in the sky. It's everything you've ever wanted and its yours if you choose it.

But what does it take to shine? What do you have to sacrifice to gain even a few moments amongst that dark sky?

And what happens when you finally burn out?

Will they remember you?

Or will you be forgotten?

“Are you proud? We’re almost there."

Smiling softly, you swallow hard at the thought, your hands shaking as you wrap them around your body. You always thought you were strong enough, but perhaps you never were. Maybe no one ever is.

But is that reason enough to give up?

"It’s so close, but how much more do we have to lose before we can achieve it?”

note ::

this is off topic but I really like Jaejin's and Yen's friendship. Maybe at one point in time it could have blossomed into something more but right now, their friendship is something Yen really needs and I'm glad that she has it even if Jaejin's feelings have become complicated.

chapter 70 here

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