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hobie-enthusiast · 1 year ago

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UNLIKELY CLASH !

— rulebreaker!hobie brown x perfectionist!gn!reader

— enemies to lovers, cursing (hobie says bullshit), dramatic tension, high school, hobie being a menace, and reader is fed up with him, or are they

— hobie brown was everything you weren’t, so maybe that’s what attracted the two of you together so well (pt. 1)

— this was originally meant to be one fic then i started writing and bam two maybe three parts. let me know if it’s any good for another part

— part 1 (here) | part 2 | part 3

This was a dangerous game you were playing.

Hobie Brown was a menace. An absolute prick who had no respect for the rules or anything anyone told him. He skipped school constantly, broke every rule set in place, and never did what the staff asked of him.

The complete opposite of you.

You were the model student, you practically had to be. Best grades imaginable, excellent rule follower, and apart of almost every club offered. Nobody could complain about you or what you’ve achieved.

Well, except for Hobie Brown. He’s been messing with you ever since your first encounter, and you honestly were in no interest in playing this game with him.

—

“Mr. Brown, if you can’t keep quiet in this class then I’m going to have to ask you to talk with the principal.”

Hobie rolled his eyes as he propped his shoes on the desk in front of him, hands behind his head. "Sounds be'ter than lis'ening to this borin' lesson."

You find yourself scoffing at Hobie's useless words. Of course he would chose to be difficult on the one day of the week he showed up to school. In your eyes, it would be better for him to miss rather than interupting the lesson for those who just want to pass the class.

Suddenly, the teacher glances in your direction. "[Name], would you mind escorting him to the office?" She asks in a pleading tone. You sigh but give a smile, nodding.

The teacher gives another stern look in Hobie's direction, but he just laughs as he puts his hands up. You walk towards the door and step outside, waiting for the vigilante to join you outside.

Hobie stepped outside, glancing down at you. He says nothing as he begins walking, in the opposite direction of the office.

"Uhm, I know you hardly come here," You start, catching up to him. "But the office is the other way."

"Didya really think I was gonna follow ya?" He questions with a chuckle. When you don't respond, he raises an eyebrow. "Wow, ya did."

You sigh, moving to stand in front of him. "Don't be difficult, Brown. Just go up there and we won't have issues."

"Ain't no need to be so uptigh', sweetheart. Even the class presiden' can 'ave some fun."

You glare as he brushes past you. "One, don't call me sweetheart." You say in a tone. "Second, having fun doesn't include disregarding what teachers tell you to do."

"Sure it does." Hobie says with a shrug, stopping to stare down at you. "Ins'ead of goin' to the office, I can go do whatever I feel like doin'. Much bet'er, don't ya think?"

The way he spoke so casually about breaking the rules infuriated you. Of course you didn't want to be here as much as the next person, but you couldn't imagine just interrupting and walking out like this. You were here to be the best you could possibly be, no distractions. But Hobie Brown was not letting you do that.

"Keep starin' and you might find yourself in a position you don't wanna be in, darlin'." He said, looking back over his shoulder.

Okay, that pissed you off. "Excuse me?"

Hobie rolled his eyes, turning back to you as he made his way to you. His hand lifted your chin, peering down on you. "Ya heard me. Though, maybe ya do wanna bend the rules with me."

"You don't know anything about me."

"I know u've had plen'y of time to go back to that bloody boring class."

As much as you wanted to deny his words, he was right. Why haven't you just left him to his own devices? It wasn't that hard to just walk away and let him suffer the consequences.

Why were you still here?

Your silence prompted a smirk from Hobie. "I'll see ya around, sweetheart." He says, turning back around to walk out of the school. You let out a frustrated groan, trying to ignore the way your stomach flipped at the contact or nickname.

—

Your next encounter with Hobie Brown was in the cafeteria the day after that incident. It was honestly a shock to you he even showed up two days in a row.

You walked along the halls with your good friend, casually chatting as you made it into the lunchroom. Lunch period was such a refreshing time in your mind, a good time to actually talk with people you like. And not deal with a certain someone.

You still couldn't figure out why you were thinking of him so much. Just from the one encounter, he's plagued your thoughts and mind. It was honestly so annoying in your eyes.

You grab a lunch tray, moving to grab a meal prepared for that day. It wasn't the most appetizing food, but it was better than nothing. You paid before stepping out of line to find a seat.

But of course, someone also had to walk in that path at the same time. They bumped right into you, causing you to trip forward and fall almost flat on your face. Or actually, right into the arms of someone who caught you.

You clutch onto the stranger, groaning at your food that was now on the floor. There goes your lunch. You sigh. "Thank you, I'm so sorry I-"

You glance down at the hand, then notice the familiar scent from the previous day. You glance up, seeing none other than Hobie Brown, small smirk on his face at your realization.

You immediately release your hold on him, standing up straight. "Brown." You say coldly and simply, crossing your arms.

He raises his hands. "Alrigh', don't acknowledge that I jus' saved ya from a bloody nose. That's wha' friends are for, huh?"

"We are not friends." You respond, eyes narrowing at him.

"Not with that at'itude we're not."

Glancing around, you suddenly become very aware of how many people are watching the two of you. You groan, hands running on your face before you face him again.

"Thanks, Brown. For catching me." You say with gritted teeth.

He gives that same damn smirk, ruffling your hair. "'s no problem, sweetheart. Jus' watch where ya step."

If no one was watching you would probably punch him square in the arm. He knew you wouldn't do anything; tell him off, hit him, nothing. You had a reputation to uphold as the president. What kind of president are you if you can't get along with everyone, including the school pariah.

You turn around after that, trying to get out of there as soon as possible. Of course, what were the odds you fall right into Hobie's arms. What a cruel twist of fate on you.

Damn you, Hobie Brown.

— — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — —

That's how you find yourself in the present weeks.

Hobie comes up to you whenever he finds the chance. He comes to school more often, which may be good in some ways, just to see you. Of course it was odd to see the school's resident vigilante finding a friend in the school council's president, even after such a fiasco.

Only issue? You guys weren't friends! Not even close. You practically hates the guy. At least, you had to. That's what you thought, because that was the truth, right?

"So, what's the deal with you and that Hobie guy?"

You groan as you slam the locker shut, glancing at your friend. "Nothing is the deal. He's just an annoying prick."

"Woah, seems I hit a nerve." Your friend chuckled. "Just tell him to leave you alone. I'm sure he'll listen, no?"

They were right, you knew they were. Of course Hobie would leave you be if you asked him to stop or reported him. But something stopped you every time. You would always indulge in his antics and words, throwing back annoyed tones or sarcastic words. The easiest solution would be to just ignore him.

So why didn't you? Why did you expect him almost daily? What were you doing?

And of course, speak of the devil.

"Hey sweetheart." Hobie speaks behind you, leaning against the lockers. His eyes scan your friend. "Busy? I wanna talk to ya."

Your friend glanced at the two of you. "I'll.. see you later [Name]."

You sigh with a roll of your eyes, opening your locker back up. "What do you want?"

"Who was that?" Hobie asked. "A friend?"

"It doesn't matter. What do you want, Brown?"

Hobie chuckled quietly, amused by your somewhat hostile nature. "Not 'ere. Somewhere else."

You close the locker again to question his motives. But instead, you already see him walking off. This was the point you could have walked the other way, headed off to class like the good and perfect class president you were. That would be the responsible thing for you to do.

You debated with yourself for a moment before sighing, following Hobie at a distance. Why? Well you can't answer that. He led you to the front of the school, a side door in specific. You never really find yourself over here in specific, there was never a need to.

Hobie pushes the door open, walking out like it wasn't a big deal. He glanced back, ushering you to follow him. You groan but follow him. You were already too far from your next class to turn back and make it on time. Bailing at this point would be pointless.

"'m shocked ya haven't complained." Hobie spoke once you caught up with him.

You roll your eyes. "I'm actually a nice person, believe it or not. Just not with you, a vigilante."

"Hm, haven' been called that one before." He says, digging his arms in his vest pockets. "And don't worry, soon enough 'u'll like me."

"What makes you think-"

Hobie stops walking suddenly, tilting his head towards a tree. Your eyes narrow at it, but you couldn't dare deny how nice it was out here.

"This is where you wanted to take me?" You question as he sits down, taking his guitar off his back, placing it in his lap.

He nods, strumming the strings. "'s peaceful." He says, glancing up at you. "Sit. I ain't gonna bite."

Hesitantly, you sit down across from him, drawing your knees to your chest. You were grateful that this tree was far from the school, so no one could see you both.

God, when did it come to you skipping class with the Hobie Brown?

"So.." You draw out your word, looking at him with careful eyes. "What did you wanna talk about?"

"Oh, nothin'. Just wanted to get ya away from that friend of 'urs." He responded nonchalantly, shrugging as he tuned the strings.

You groan with a sigh. "Damn you, Brown. I could be in class right now!"

"But 'ur not. Ya didn't have t' come with me."

Of course he was right. Your own will brought you under this tree with Hobie as he mindlessly strums his guitar, skipping class in the process. Who was he making you?

"Besides," He starts, playing a chord. "Ya owe me. You know, savin' ya in the lunchroom? I wanna know more about ya."

You roll your eyes. Of course he would that against you. It wasn't like you asked to be saved like that.

But what else could you do out here with him?

"Fine. You get three questions. That's it."

Hobie nods, silently taking some time to think of the first question. "What's 'ur favourite colour?"

Well that certainly wasn't the type of question you expected. "Uhm.. [f/c]..?" You say with some uncertainty.

"Figures. Suits someone like you." He says, setting his guitar to the side to focus on you. "Alright, next question. Who's someone ya look up t'?"

"Easy, Spider-man. Some people call them Spider-punk, but I don't know, that doesn't sound like them." You speak casually, shrugging about it.

That answer surprised Hobie, but he didn't show it. Instead, he leaned back and questioned you as to why.

You sigh. "I guess.. it's because they fight for the good. They break all these rules, go against others expectations of a hero, and still save those who need saving. They still manage to do the right thing and save the day." You say, continuing on with your explanation. "I just wish that could be me sometimes. Breaking the rules and expectations set in place for me while still impressing others."

You clear your throat after, feeling as though you made things awkward. Hobie was silent as he just stared at you. Was he.. analyzing you? Your answer? You had no idea.

"Last question.." He continues, as if the last one never happened. "If you could do anything you wanted to, no limits, what would you do and why?"

Now this question was making you think. Anything? Absolutely anything? Maybe you were getting too deep.

"I would probably solve the-"

"No." Hobie cuts you off, sitting up. "Don't give me some bullshit answer abou' somethin' for others. Be selfish. I want an answer from [Name], not the perfect studen' council presiden'."

Your eyes widen, but then you look down, smiling to yourself somewhat gently. "I would.. I would run away to the city for a day, do everything that I want to do. Feel the freedom of not having everyone staring at my every move. Finally be able to just.. breathe." You say, not even bothering to see Hobie's expression.

"Noted."

You had no clue at that moment what his words meant, but surely they had to have held meaning. After a while, the two of you had to head back inside the school, the previous encounter and interactions still hanging heavily between you two. Still, you couldn't help but write a small note of 'thank you' to Hobie, putting it in his locker.

When Hobie went to his locker at the end of the day, the first thing he noticed was the crumpled up note with his last name written neatly on it. His mind immediately identified it as being from you.

'Thanks for letting me say all of that earlier. I don't think I've ever admitted to someone how much pressure I'm truly under. You really aren't that bad.

This still doesn't mean we're friends.

Yours truly, [Name].'

Oh yeah, Hobie would definitely be holding onto this note.

#NEW ARTICLE || OUT NOW !!#hobie brown x reader #hobie x reader #hobie brown #across the spiderverse #spider man: across the spider verse #atsv x reader #atsv #atsv hobie

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inkspiredwriting · 5 months ago

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A Kiss Through Time

Five Hargreeves x Fem!reader

A/N: Hey you, yes you. I would be very happy if you would follow me :)

Warnings: none

The Hargreeves mansion was bustling with activity. Klaus had decided to host an impromptu party, and the siblings, along with their friends, were scattered around the living room, enjoying the music, food, and general chaos. Amidst the revelry, Five Hargreeves stood in a corner, his expression somewhere between exasperated and amused.

Y/N, his girlfriend, was the only one who could match his wit and keep up with his time-traveling antics. Tonight, she was busy teasing him about something that Klaus had let slip—namely, that Five had never had a proper first kiss.

“So, Mr. Time Traveler, too busy saving the world to pucker up?” Y/N teased, leaning against the wall next to him.

Five rolled his eyes, taking a sip of his drink. “I’ve had more important things to worry about, Y/N.”

“Oh, come on,” she said, a mischievous glint in her eye. “Even superheroes need some romance in their lives.”

Klaus, overhearing the conversation, sauntered over with a grin. “Did I hear someone talking about romance? Little Five here has been too busy jumping through time to even think about kissing anyone.”

Five glared at his brother. “Not helping, Klaus.”

Y/N laughed, thoroughly enjoying the exchange. “Well, Five, there’s no time like the present.”

Five raised an eyebrow, his interest piqued. “What are you suggesting?”

Y/N leaned in closer, her voice dropping to a playful whisper. “How about we remedy that right now?”

Five’s eyes widened slightly, but he quickly masked his surprise with his usual stoic demeanor. “You’re serious?”

“Dead serious,” Y/N replied, her smile softening. “Unless you’re too scared?”

Five’s competitive nature flared up at the challenge. ��I’m not scared of anything, especially not a kiss.”

“Prove it,” Y/N said, standing up straighter and looking him directly in the eyes.

The room around them seemed to fade as Five considered her words. His siblings, oblivious to the moment unfolding, continued their party, but Five’s focus was entirely on Y/N.

“Fine,” he said, setting his drink down with determination. “Let’s do this.”

Y/N’s smile widened, and she stepped closer, her heart pounding in her chest. Five, ever the perfectionist, took a deep breath and moved in, his face inches from hers.

“Wait, wait, wait!” Klaus suddenly shouted, drawing everyone’s attention. “Is this really happening? Five is about to have his first kiss, and we’re not going to celebrate?”

Five groaned, his moment ruined. “Klaus, I swear—”

“Shush, shush, everyone! Gather around!” Klaus clapped his hands, and the partygoers formed a loose circle around Five and Y/N, cheering them on.

“Five, this is ridiculous,” Y/N whispered, trying to hide her amusement.

“Tell me about it,” Five muttered back. “But now we have an audience, so we might as well give them a show.”

With everyone watching, Five and Y/N stood facing each other again. Five’s serious demeanor was betrayed by the slight twitch of a smile on his lips.

“Ready?” Y/N asked, her voice barely audible over the cheers.

“Always,” Five replied.

They leaned in, the noise of the room fading to a distant hum. Just as their lips were about to meet, Diego’s voice rang out, “Come on, Five! Don’t mess this up!”

In a rare moment of spontaneity, Five wrapped his arms around Y/N and dipped her, much to the surprise and delight of the onlookers. Y/N let out a laugh, and then, finally, their lips met in a kiss that was both tender and electrifying.

The room erupted in applause and cheers. Klaus hooted loudly, Allison and Viktor clapped, and even Luther managed a supportive smile. Five and Y/N, still locked in the kiss, were lost to the world around them.

When they finally broke apart, breathless and grinning, Y/N said, “Well, Mr. Time Traveler, how was that for a first kiss?”

Five, still holding her close, smirked. “I think I could get used to this.”

Klaus threw an arm around Five’s shoulders. “Ladies and gentlemen, our little Five is all grown up!”

“Shut up, Klaus,” Five said, but his annoyance was softened by the smile on his face.

As the party resumed its boisterous energy, Five and Y/N retreated to a quieter corner, their hands still intertwined. They shared a look that spoke volumes, a silent agreement that this was just the beginning of their adventures together—both in time and in love.

And so, in the midst of chaos, with his eccentric family around him, Five Hargreeves had his first kiss. It was perfect in its imperfection, much like everything else in his life.

#five hargreeves x you #number five x reader #five hargreeves imagines #number five imagine #five hargreeves x reader #the umbrella academy #number five #number five one shot

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hanichani · 1 year ago

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Pairing: chan x gn!reader

Genre: fluff, idol!au

Summary: you and chan are amazing friends but…is that really all you are?

Warnings: none!

Word count: 821

there was a thin line between friendship and love. you and chan would know. what you didn’t know though was on which side of the line you were currently on…

chan’s hand was draped over your torso and his short breaths were tickling the skin on your neck. he looked pretty all the time, that’s a given but there was just something about him when he was asleep. he looked so unbothered, so peaceful and relaxed. that’s why you loved falling asleep next to him. to see him look so content. to see him finally not stress over the smallest things because surprise surprise, chan is a workaholic and a perfectionist. that’s how any good friend would feel about sharing a bed with their other good friend, right?

you also loved that his attention was always only on you and nothing else in those rare mornings after you’d sleep over and that’s why seeing him stir up made your stomach feel all warm and mushy. friends definitely feel this way about other friends.

suddenly his sleepy eyes looked up at you with a bright smile shining on his face. oh you were down bad (as a friend would be for another friend, of course).

"good morning.” he said as he snuggled deeper into the crook of your neck.

“morning channie, how’d you sleep?” you asked, your hand subconsciously moving to draw shapes on his bare back which made him hum against your skin.

“mm, good. always good when you’re here.” that’s surely something a friend would say, yup.

the smile on your face gave everything away and your other hand moved to his hair, earning another content groan from the man you loved (as a friend, obviously).

“that’s-“ your sentence was interrupted by chan’s alarm. he unwillingly untangled himself from you and reached for his phone, turning the alarm off.

“how is it already time to get up.” he sat up, rubbing his palms over his sleep laced face.

you were too busy staring at his defined back to notice his face turning to you. his chuckle brought you back into reality.

“you’ve got a bit of drool there, y/n.” he pointed to his lips while simultaneously laughing harder.

you frowned and draped yourself over his shoulders while his laugh still rang through the room. “oh shut up mr. I always sleep good when you’re here.” your impression of his voice only made him laugh more and pull you closer to him by your arms.

“hey, I was just stating facts.” he says, turning his head to look at you.

“yea and I was just admiring, you’re pretty much asking for it at this point. sleeping all naked next to me and stuff.” you retort while meeting his gaze.

your faces are only inches away and if you weren’t friends which you are, it would only take a slight movement from you to kiss him.

“oh, don’t act like you don’t love it” he says, his eyes briefly going to your lips and moving back up just as fast.

you let go of him and fall back into the bed, your back hitting the soft cushions. you stick out your tongue and give him a silly face as a response. he only smiles at you and then he proceeds to do the most cruel thing he could do to you in the moment. he gets up from the bed.

your hands automatically reach out for him but to no avail. he’s already marching to the bathroom with a small “I should really get ready now.”

when he comes back half an hour later, you’re scrolling on your phone, still in bed. his now clothed form leans over you so you’re face to face again. you throw your phone somewhere on the bed and your hands move into his curls, while each of his find their place on either side of your head.

“i have to go now.” he says, brushing his nose against yours. eskimo kisses are normal between friends after all, right?

“can we meet up tonight?” you whine quietly in response.

“i’ll see when I’m finished at the studio but after that we could?” one of his hands brushes a strand of your hair out of your face.

“yea okay.” you smile up at him.

and then he kisses you. no matter how surprised you are, you kiss him back, of course but just as quickly as his lips landed on yours, they pull away.

“i’ll see you tonight then.” he smiles and places another peck on your lips.

when he closes the door behind him, you realize what just happened. he just kissed you like it was the most mundane thing ever. sure you were close. you were really close but you were still just friends. maybe friends just kiss sometimes? he did it so carelessly, it has to be normal. it’s what really good friends do, right?

a/n: hellooo, i’m pretty new to posting my little drabbles and works soo any feedback is welcome!!!

#chan fluff #bang chan x reader #chan x reader #chan drabbles #skz drabbles #stray kids x reader #skz x y/n #stray kids x y/n #chan x y/n #bangchan x reader #bang chan x y/n #chan x you #bang chan fluff

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hanihazeljade · 3 months ago

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Planning is Essential

Time Travel Tim

Tim time-travel back when he is seven years old. Way back before he 'died', before Bruce 'died', and before Jason Todd died.

He will make it right.

Tim woke up, with slight headache and he cannot pinpoint exactly how and why he got the headache. It can be because of endless nights without sleeping or it can be because he forgot his meds or it can also be one of his dearest "brothers" punched him. The reason is limitless and he can't really blame anyone at this point.

There was a knock on his door, "Timothy? Dinner is ready." A old woman's voice made him jerked his body. That voice is very familiar to him. It was the voice that he more often heard than his parent's, it was Mrs. Mac's voice, the housekeeper. But how could it be? Mrs. Mac was already resigned as the housekeeper after his father died. And that is when he finally looked around his surroundings. The barren white childhood bedroom of his is something that he rather forget and never wanted to revisited.

The room is far bigger than what he remember, but looking around and saw at his desk the unfinished homework he got and the black-screened laptop in his desk that shows his reflection. He was younger. This could be a de-aging case or even just a mind manipulation case. But he knows deep down it is not. He had travelled back in time. And it is fine, Bruce and the others will find him here, right?

Before he check anything more, he washed himself and go down, it will be a mess if he will be the cause of delay if his parents are here. He rather be clueless than to go through another rant of his parents on why you shouldn't waste anybody's time. The Drakes are nothing but a bunch of perfectionist narcissist and he is one of them, obviously. He doesn't have any prior information if his parents are here or not but better be safe than sorry.

The moment he got down the long winding staircase of his childhood house, he can see that his parent's weren't there and he sighed in relief. He love his parents but sometimes they can be too perfectionist, even for him that worked with the most perfectionist person (Batman), when it comes to time to time. After all, he can still felt the lingering warning touches of his mom and dad back when he was older.

He ate his dinner in silence and he went back to his room. Mrs. Mac already left and he was left alone once again in his huge house.

It felt nostalgic, the bad type of nostalgia. This is the room that made him who he was, who Timothy Jackson Drake was. The room that almost look like a psych ward and the eerie vibes it gave off. Timothy sighed, he needs to acquire how far he was taken back. It seems like he will pull an all-nighter for such a young age.

Pulling an all-nighter was normally was an usual thing for him. He feel like he was hit by a truck but nonetheless, he feels fine. But now? He was hit by a truck, got tossed to flames and having a speaker blasting to his head. Thank whatever the heck pulling through this Earth that today is Saturday, meaning no school and no Mrs. Mac, so therefore, he thought that he deserve to have some sleep because he is gonna collapse once he stand up in his bed.

After taking such a nice nap, a 6-hour nap, he look at his google doc of everything he knew. He is seven, at Bristol Grade School, taking a year ahead of his peers and way, way too young to know that Bruce Wayne is Batman and Dick Grayson is still Robin.

His parents are in Cyprus, digging the Enkomi and leaving behind black card that was name after him. His black card has a limit, he found that one out after his dad died and he has the access to their bank book. The limit was 500 grand. It was a big money for a seven-year old but it was one ways of his parent shows their love and care for him. He always used that black card for his necessities and some accessories to his skateboard and he never got any word from it, so he assume that it was fine as long as he is not splurging on dumb stuffs or illegal stuffs.

His parents are absent at best and negligent at worst, but he already live for years without them and he was just glad that they are still alive, and it was what daunt to him. His parents are gonna die and it was something inevitable. Because his parents would not heed to his request not to go to that specific dig and in the end they are still gonna die.

So, first, he need to make that Uncle Eddie will be more believable and wouldn't get the jig up after two weeks. Second, he needs to make a separate a bank account, which with his prior knowledge from back before, is easy. Third, he needs to do his homework because he was behind.

#tim drake #fanfic #chaotic tim drake #dcu #timothy jackson drake #de aged tim drake #or was it #time travel #idunno

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tbhimnoteasyonmyself · 9 months ago

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Who is White?

If it is not I, your friendly neighbourhood non-binary deranged literature major, once again to tell you about stuff that the voices™︎ have prompted me.

This time, let's talk about the elephant in the room, the odd one out: Mr. White, a.k.a the fandom's babyboy.

(me as Fluke in this GIF, walking in ready to dissect this bitch)

So, what do we factually know about this man?

From what we're directly told in the show:

He's Tee's boyfriend, at least, since 12th grade, meaning they have been together for about 3 years, maybe 4 (depending on when exactly we are in terms of time in the present and when exactly during 12th grade they started dating).

He's younger than the rest of them, according to Por and Top in episode 1.

He studied at a different school from the main gang AND from Phee (yes, despite the embroidery having a similar colour, the writings where the institution's name should be are nothing alike, thus, not from the same place)

He cares a lot about his appearance (he does skincare when Por is literally dying downstairs and he sees a rash on his body while under the effect of New's absynthe - idk if it's absynthe or not but my friends and I have been calling it that since we saw them drink the green drinks so it's absynthe for me and there's that).

He's generally a very respectful person (he always speaks formally and nicely to everyone, even when people are hostile to him, like Tee or Fluke).

His fear doesn't seem to paralyze him in high-pressure situations (he strikes people with a tripod twice to save himself and others when he thinks they're in danger).

Another source could be the Yearbook, which, now, we have to be a bit more skeptical about because, as seen in New's case, it's not 100% accurate. One can argue that it is accurate because the yearbook would have Tan's info, since that's who he's living as and no one knows any better than that, including the institutions and, sure, yeah, fair. But while we don't know that White is hiding anything from us as well, we can't be sure of it. So, take the following with a grain of salt:

(translated with Google Translate)

His legal name is Watcharin Siriphan

He was born on the 25th of February 2005 (which confirms what Por and Top say)

His blood type is A (which according to the Blood Type Personality Theory means he is shy, stubborn, a perfectionist, polite and hard-working, apparently. tbh this thing is super shifty, no source seems to agree on the meaning of each type and, of course, it's a pseudoscience and all, so... yeah. take it as you will)

He's studying Software Engineering

He likes cakes

He dislikes cockroaches

He plays games and programs in his free time

So... We don't know much. He's the most generic person ever. Like... I too, and half the world's population, like cake, dislike cockroaches and like to play games. It's not exactly very special. Which is exactly why he is so intriguing. After all, we had 5 whole episodes so far, which were just the backstory of the people we see together in the mansion in the present. We've seen their personalities, their qualities and flaws, what they did and what they didn't do. We've been given a reason as to why they're here. Not just in the more direct sense of "they agreed to come here for Jin's goodbye party" but of why exactly they needed to be put all together in these conditions for this story. All except White. White is just... Barely an afterthought. We're shown when he comes into this story for the group (when he becomes Tee's boyfriend), but we're not given a reason so far as to why the narrative wants him there.

Because, sure, IRL people sometimes end up in random places and things can be pretty meaningless but this is a work of fiction. One that, evidently, has been greatly focused on details (Non's framed apple picture and Phee eating an apple alone, for example, or the correlation between the group and the colour blue). So why would it just throw us a character that is, seemingly, irrelevant to the story?

And to this, there are 2 possibilities my friends: either White is a narrative tool to get to the audience or White is not who we think he is. So let's explore it, shall we?

White = Narrative Tool

Let's start by assuming, possibly the most likely outcome, that White is exactly just a guy who ended up there due to his connection to Tee. Why would this narrative need that character?

Glad you asked. Because he's the only person who's 100% innocent. If he's just some guy who, as we've seen, keeps being respectful and nice and trying to always do the right thing, then he's got nothing to do with the others who, in different degrees are all guilty of something. He's the odd one out.

Because, yes, this is not a show of villains (at least, not in which concerns the main characters). They're all morally grey. But they have some drop of black that makes them grey.

Por is arrogant and a liar and selfish.

Tee is aggressive and manipulative and a control freak.

Top is an overall asshole and a coward.

These 3 actively bully Non. Por steals his work. Tee and Top blame him for shit he didn't do which puts in the situation where he owns Por and they spy on him. Tee manipulates him into mafia money laundry and threatens him.

Fluke is selfish and refuses to take action even when he knows it's the right thing to do.

Jin's doesn't have the capability to realize that the peaceful passive way with which he normally carries himself with won't solve the issue. Plus he's overly emotional. And a bit selfish too.

They didn't help Non when it was their moral obligation to do so. And Jin records him being abused by their teacher and possibly posts it online (though that's still up for debate).

Phee is too stubborn and also overly emotional and even overly empathic.

New is obsessive and vengeful.

Phee never really helps Non because all the ways he offers Non help are the wrong ones. He almost tries to control him. And he fails. And then he tells him awful things and breaks up with him in a terribly vulnerable moment for Non. And even when he regrets it and tries to bring justice to him, he fucks Jin because he wanted to and tries to cover it up as if it was part of the plan. Sure, they were broken up, technically, but Phee himself seems to have had "take-backies" over that breaking up. So, in his mind, at least, it's fair to say he cheats on him, which is very hypocritical after how he reacts to Non being abused. And New... He tries to help sincerely because he feels guilty but he only makes things worse. Nothing is solved and their father curses them both before committing public suicide at their mom's funeral.

Non (which may be even more relevant if he's still alive) is overly independent and uncommunicative.

He doesn't tell Jin he has a boyfriend when it's clear Jin's trying to make a move on him, event though Non's not interested. He hides very important things from Phee. He commits fraud (understandably, but yeah). And yeah, he's justified in his rage and attack but... Does he ever think of how his actions affect other such as Jin, for example, who, in his eyes, is innocent? Not really.

"Oh but White won't die!", I hear you say. "The innocent people never die in slashers!! Only the people who did the killer wrong do!" And that's exactly where I have to disagree.

So, amidst a sea of grey characters, White is, funnily enough: white. He's just good. He's done nothing wrong. And the narrative needs him because, when the others die, we'll feel (to different degrees, sure, but still, we will) that there's a reason. Even if we like the characters, those deaths will make sense. But what happens when an innocent man dies? What happens when you kill the man who wasn't even supposed to be there (he joined the trip at the last minute)?

As @syrena-del-mar says in this post: "DFF is more than just a 90s slasher film imitation". It "sits at a novel intersection of genre: horror slasher on the one hand and BL on the other hand" as @brifrischu puts it here and, for that, it bends expectations and rules and subverts what are natural tropes and events of the slasher archetype. White dying is the sort of thing this narrative, and our inventive genius Sammon, would do. Because... Do you really think they're giving us grey characters instead of black ones because we're supposed not to question this revenge? Because we're supposed to be happy about this? No. Of course not. That would be dumb. If we're meant to 100% side with the killer, then why give us likeable characters as the targets? Because, and this is as much speculation as it is reading the room, we're not.

This story, I don't know how it will end, but regardless I'm pretty confident it's supposed to tell us something important about cycles of violence: that they're neverending until someone chooses peace instead. That aggression and bloodshed and revenge... They won't bring time back, they won't undo the mistakes we make, they won't restore that which is lost, they won't make the grief go away... That they won't make us feel better. More even: that they will only hurt more people, create more injustice and prompt more revenge. And, thus, perpetuate the cycle.

So what's White's role? Being the final drop into our collective cup of realization (and perhaps the characters' as well) that this revenge mission is pointless and won't solve anything. White's role is to die.

"Oh, but uncle Dang was also innocent! Is his death not enough??", I hear you ask. And well... Maybe, maybe not. I think, honestly, his death is too impersonal for us to feel too deeply about it. Like, sure, yes, it is the death of an innocent, but it's a distant innocent. It doesn't make our blood boil because we don't know shit about that man. But, for all we don't know of White's past, we've seen him cry, we've seen him scared, we've seen him fight for his life, we've seen him be a good boyfriend and a good friend. He might just be some dude but we like him. He's the fandom's babyboy, as I said. It is more impactful and it tells the story better.

But this is just a hypothesis. And it might not convince you. And that's fair. So, because I'm a persistent obnoxious fucker with a little too much free time, I'm bringing you a second theory. For this one, though... You might need a little tinfoil hat... Be prepared.

White ≠ Who He Says He Is

So, if you think just having a character be hollow and pure good in a show of very fleshed-out and grey characters is weird, even if he might be narratively relevant, then we can only assume there's something important to White's character we don't know about yet. (I'm adding this in retrospective because I forgot but this idea came to me partially from @yellingaboutkp and their great analysis of horns in the show that you can find here)

But what could that be? We've seemingly seen all the flashbacks we needed from everyone, White doesn't seem very relevant to anyone's storyline but Tee's but... We'd assume if there was something directly connected to Tee's actions and White that we needed to see, we would've. Admittedly, the next episode seems to be on its way to tell us what Tee knows about what happened to Non and Keng while they were captured by the mafia and he could be there but I think, honestly, that it goes deeper than that. And here's why: because there's a person who's even more of an odd one out then White: whoever Perth's character is.

Now, he would've been completely unsuspicious if it wasn't for one thing: Perth's presence in the promotion of this series. He's just... Always there, somehow? Like, his character has only really appeared last episode massaging Tee's uncle but he's constantly talking about this series. Plus, his name is very well credited. AND, the absolute cherry on top, his character appears in THIS poster:

Now, yeah, I understand Marketing and Publicity (it's part of my Master's, you don't have to explain it to me). So, I know this could very well just be a strategy to sell the series. After all, Perth did get a lot of attention after The Hidden Character, I know, I know. It's also a way to put his name out there for other future roles, kinda like a soft launch. Plus, this is the show that killed Us's character first when he was one of the most popular actors in the cast. HOWEVER, I'd argue that, considering the previously mentioned attention to detail, they would not have given one of their rising stars a role in this series if it wasn't important. Like... No other background character without lines (so far) was given an important actor to play it. So pardon me, but I don't buy it. Perth's character's gotta matter somehow. And, back to what I was saying, I think the next episode will be exactly where.

See, I made a poll here on the hellsite asking what y'all think happened to Non. It's this one. And it shows that, overwhelmingly, we all think Non is alive BECAUSE he was helped by the man himself:

"Okay, Dante, but, even if that's true, where does White fit in all this?" Glad. You. Asked.

Now, if we're assuming Perth's character's the one that's gonna help Non (and possibly Keng or maybe not, idk and it really doesn't matter for now), we've gotta assume he's a possible suspect for the murderer. And even more so under this optic that Non is alive. Who more than a person whose whole reality seemed to be the mafia and who might've escaped it would be okay with murdering people? Right? Or, on the contrary, that he took a liking to Non and is trying to prevent him from further digging himself a hole in life and is trying to save him from himself.

You see, I didn't watch The Hidden Character (and those who did apparently recommend it stays that way). I didn't know any of these people before except those who were in Kinnporsche. And you know what that led me to? Curiously enough, dear reader: confusing Fuaiz with Perth. So, yeah, you know where this is going... White and Perth's character might be related. Brothers, probably.

"All because you think they look alike?" Well, if you ignore the way I just explained how it would tie some very loose ends... Yeah, kinda. BUT, in my defence, it makes a lot of genetic sense.

See, no other characters in the show really look this much alike. Believe me, I tested it.

For this purpose, I tried many different sites but the one that seemed to give me the most reliable results was FaceShape. Most characters got no more than 10%, some even got 0% (e.g. New and Perth's Character). And you wanna know how much White and Perth's character got? Nearly 50%.

For comparison reasons, New and Non who are CANONICALLY brothers, got about 30%.

BUT, if this is not convincing enough, my sister and I (who share EXACTLY the same 2 parents) got lower than them.

(pls ignore the picture, I was trynna make it as accurate as possible so I took a front pic with a neutral expression. also, my sister is censored for privacy reasons)

Now... Will I claim this is irrefutable proof? No. Not at all, but think about it: if White and Perth are related that might maybe explain how Tee and White met. It might also explain that really weird scene in the pre-release trailer (albeit all scenes in that are rather odd) where White-

Yes, thank you, Obi-Wan. And Anakin Tee is looking up at him, as if White has more power than Tee does. Because then, it could probably mean that White knows something and is probably there to do something. What exactly? Idk, man. He could be there to ensure the group remains clueless/confused or that they remain where they need to be for things to work... Or he could be there to try and prevent stuff from happening much to the likeness of what I stated for Perth's character's case.

"Oh, but if he knows something, wouldn't he know what happened to Non? Why would he be curious to watch the recording??"

Well, not necessarily. We know Non is not communicative and that he doesn't typically share his problems with anyone (the exception being Keng, obviously, but then again, the exception confirms the rule). And sure, Keng might be more talkative but idk if he would say something if Non asked him not to. I have a feeling he probably wouldn't (since he has that weird thing JJ mentioned about how he "loves Non" and, therefore, even if he's an abuser, he doesn't perceive himself that way and wouldn't do something he actively thinks would hurt Non). So, while Perth's character would know what happened to Non while he was being held by Tee's uncle and even some things about why he is there, he probably wouldn't know the rest.

But then why would he date Tee? Well, this is a narrative so... Foils are something that can happen. Having White and his relationship with Tee be a parallel to that of Phee and Jin is not weird and, in fact, has happened in the very first episode when both couples arrive at the room where the singles are, in pairs. Therefore, it wouldn't be weird to think of White as someone who maybe also fell in love with the guy that was supposed to be a means to an end or, alternatively, and perhaps more interestingly, have White NOT be in love with him and actually succeed, unlike Phee. Thus, drawing the comparison that, while Tee and White are in a relationship, White didn't fall in love and, inversely, while Phee and Jin aren't in a relationship, Phee did fall in love.

And this would mean that all we've seen of White's fear might, in fact, be an act to throw suspicion off of him. Or even more justified because he knows exactly what's lurking in the woods... After all, why would he suddenly join Jin's goodbye party if he's not a friend of Jin's? What reason better than to tag along your boyfriend's getaway with his friends if not to protect him from the terrible consequences of his actions?

But I get it. It's an extremely convoluted theory and, in all honesty, maybe makes the show more dull and boring if it's true because... Why would they repeat this "secret brother" twist? Or the dating with second intentions trope? It could be a narrative parallel, yes, but I can also definitely see how people could point that out as uncreative or lazy writing.

Either way: these thoughts were circling around my head and, before the next episode confirms or destroys them, I wanted to get them out into the world for y'all to, maybe, hopefully, join in on the hype for it, as it's less than 24h 'till it airs. Hope in that I was successful, at the very least.

Anyway... As usual feel free to (politely) argue with me, tell me I'm wrong, tell me I missed this and that, add to it, etc... Because if there's one thing I currently love more than DFF itself, it's definitely the fandom and I want us to make the most of it!!

I'll see y'all tomorrow when we're freaking out about episode 10!!!

All the love! 💜💜💜

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reesespeanutbutterfuck · 7 months ago

Text

(im)perfectionist

vinny hong x jo!reader

jay jo's imperfectionist sister meets the flawful vinny hong.

part 7

part 6 | part 8

part warnings: fem!reader, jo!reader (jay is reader's 1 year older brother, but they're in the same class), second person's pov (you, you're, your), wb main story SPOILERS

—

Why was he shocked? He already saw you in your school uniform when he took you to the hospital.

“Sorry, Principal. I can come back later if you're busy–”

“It's alright, [Y/N]. I'll have you as a witness for your friends' proposal.” He motioned you to stand beside him. Albeit confused, you obliged while still carrying the papers and brown envelopes.

Friends, huh.

Not quite.

You casually eyed them one by one. Even noticing Minu's stupid-looking, over-gelled hair. But averting your gaze once you felt a certain red-hair's stare. He stared you down and you can feel his fixation on you, yet you were determined to keep your nonchalance affront.

You surely weren't needed here, so why did the Principal make you stay? While their attention were elsewhere—well, except for Vinny, who still has his two-toned eyes following you, you were finally about to escape the Principal but when you tried to sneakily walk past them, Shelly took your arm and quietly tucked you beside her while listening to her Granddad. Yes, the Principal. Shelly's Granddad. One person. The principal is Shelly's granddad.

After what seems to be a proposal to skip school to compete in the tournament, the Principal guided you out of the office, letting you go before classes started. You thought it was over, not until Mr. Nam, who accompanied you outside, called your name from the door, so you expectantly waited for what he had to say,

“The red boy isn't from here, would you mind escorting him off the campus? You’re Vice of the student body after all.”

Agh. What is he, a preschooler?

You glanced at Vinny, who just came out of the door, for a split second. “No. Not at all.”

Vinny stopped in his tracks when you faced him, now he was blankly staring at you.

“Follow me.” you composed yourself and led him to the exit.

You can hear students’ chatters and whispers but you chose to voluntarily not pay them any mind. You were watching his reflection on the window panes of the classrooms from your peripheral vision, so you didn’t have to look behind to see if he was following you. You remained civil, and as much as Vinny hates to admit, he’s annoyed by the way you’re pretending you don’t know him after everything you said and did in your past encounters. Sure he hates talking, like he always has, it’s not like he wants you to converse with him.

But somehow in this third encounter, why did he perhaps expect… more?

You can’t talk to him, yet. You shouldn’t. At least not in front of your schoolmates and especially not in front of Jay and the others. Acting like you know him will only spark more rumors and suspicions. Once again you can feel his stares right behind you as you wordlessly guided him towards the gate. What he didn't know is that your mouth was itching to open and talk, but not now. At least not while the guards were looking at you, they know your mother. You’ll be dead.

When you reached the gate you stopped just before it and asked if he needed more directions to go where he’s headed to, but he insisted he knew where he’s going. You were about to leave but his hand reached forward. Handing you something. You wondered what it was for a moment until you saw the object. The tomato charm you gave him.

You eyed the charm on his palm and looked back to his face. “What do you want me to do with that?”

“You might want it back.”

“Who do you take me for? Give and take?” You frowned. “Bring my glasses next time.” and then you turned your back on him.

Once again, Vinny’s brows slightly furrowed in annoyance. But then he finally confirms that you do remember him. You just act like you don’t.

What the hell just happened? What do you mean? Since he met you, all you ever did was to make his head hurt. He only watched you from afar for less than a second, before he turned his back shortly.

Not worth it, he thinks.

And so you parted ways like strangers.

___

Like you already said before, you and Jay don't always go home together after class, it's always taken you to go separate ways after school as a norm unless you both agree you'd walk home together beforehand. Besides, you're living separately. After the subject bedel announced your professor’s absence, his whole class period became your class vacant.

You loomed over Jay's desk. “Got any snacks?”

He slid a wasabi lollipop while not even panning to you, eyes glued to his textbook, choosing to spend his vacant time studying.

“Why aren’t you studying?”

“I’ve already read everything last night. Just seeing words on a textbook already makes me dizzy.” You reached for the lollipop and opened the wrapper before putting it in your mouth and slumpily sitting beside him.

Some of your classmates were a little taken aback because you barely sit beside Jay in classrooms. That was because you were having enough of seeing Jay’s face. From your house, to the student council hq’s, to the classroom, you’d see him. You were getting tired of seeing him everywhere. But it’s different now that you don’t see him at home because you don’t live there anymore, and you don’t see him at the council hq’s too now because he isn’t the President anymore.

“Got yelled at by mom and dad last night?” You asked him.

“...Yeah.”

“Sucks.”

“Has your flu gone down?” Right. You didn't tell anyone the truth. The only ones who knew were Suki and well… Vinny.

"Yeah. I did a lot to feel better sooner. Anyway, thanks for lending me your glasses.” you moved his eyeglasses that you borrowed up and down over your nose bridge.

The eyeglasses you were currently wearing were Jay's. They were his backup ones. Only the morning after the stabbing incident you realized you've lost your glasses. And then you remembered the nurses gave Vinny your belongings before your back was stitched up. But you promised to give Jay's glasses back after you retrieve yours from Vinny.

“How's your new member holding up? Any problems?” You shift your body to face him while biting your lollipop's stick.

Jay eyed you. “What? Oh, you mean Vinny? He's… fine. I guess.”

Must be still warming up. He’ll get used to it. You glanced out the window. The sky was already turning orange. Dom’s loud mouth echoes all the way from the back of the classroom blathering something about Hummingbird’s next cycling practice made you remember something.

“Say, can I come watch your next practice?Yuna and Mia are also coming, right? Would another bystander distract you?”

“Yeah. You can come. No rules were made saying non-members shouldn't be in practices.” Jay replied. You were thankful at how he didn’t ask why you wanted to come. The real reason was to retrieve your glasses from Vinny, after all.

Shelly called your name while closing Jay’s table. You were getting used to her ditzyness. “My sister-in-law, are you close with Vinny? He looks cool! Is his hair color natural?”

Why does everyone here think you and Vinny are close?

“Don't know. Don't care.” you faced Jay's desk to steal all his wasabi lollipops while he's not looking, rolling your jacket up to make a makeshift pouch for it. You stood up with a rolled up jacket filled with lollipops and let Shelly take the seat beside Jay.

___

You passed your fake medical certificate to your professor for your absence. You were waiting for your excuse letter to be signed before going home, when the new phone you bought beeped.

Unknown Contact: hiya, is this [Y/N]? ;)

[Y/N]: who's this?

Unknown Contact: vinny ;)

You gaped your mouth. Vinny? That Vinny?

[Y/N]: wrong number

After sending a lot of keyboard smashes, his messages suddenly halted. You thought he was done until you received another.

Unknown Contact: that was not me fuck

Unknown Contact: i swear that wasn’t me

You chose not to point it out in your reply.

[Y/N]: my glasses

After reminding him, the professor handed you back the excuse letter. You thanked him and exited the room. You wonder where Vinny got your number, especially with the fact that after losing your phone when you were stabbed, you changed phones and SIM cards.

You smirked triumphantly for a split-second and put your phone inside your pocket.

***

sorry for the slow ud's !!!! academic responsibilities always get in the way D:

anw, a gift for you

#vinny hong #vinny hong x reader #jay jo x reader #jay jo #windbreaker #imperfectionist

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syeren · 1 year ago

Text

WORKAHOLIC.

Gepard didn’t realize how much of an impact you made on him.

Being the Silvermane Captain, he had a reputation to keep up and a demeanor to maintain. However, that all changed when he spotted you in his peripheral vision.

You, the leading officer of Belobog’s Judiciary department and first person to ever achieve such a high role next to the Supreme Guardian — in such a short period of time — encaptured the attention of the entire nation. After the fall of the former Supreme Guardian, Cocolia, Bronya took the lead and appointed you to be part of the nation’s main officers. Unfortunately for Gepard, he could only stay in the shadow of your fame, washed out as he continued his daily duties. He was satisfied with his achievements, and he was pleased to be in the role he worked for; he had worked that hard for it anyway. Though, a pang of jealousy reeked within him. Gepard was a slight perfectionist and an obvious hard worker, and the notion of a formidable coworker that rose up the ranks faster than he ever did plagued his mind feverishly. Was he doing something wrong? Surely not. But, his overthinking did more than just be lingering, negative, and obsessive thoughts — you enchanted him. And he surely didn’t expect his legs to be moving on their own toward your figure.

With a stack of files in your right hand, you discussed the further construction of transportation between the Overworld and Underworld with Bronya. The subtle change within the air blew through Qlipoth as Gepard made his way towards you in striding steps. Heavy armour clanked against the cool tiles of the office as he closed the gap between the two of you. A gulp made its way to your throat.

“Excuse me, may I have a word?” he inquired, a twitch in his eyebrow motioned towards the hallway. It was a bit skeptical that a Silvermane Guard spoke to you, and you immediately thought if anything went wrong on the front lines. You gave Bronya a soft smile and a nod, then placed your attention on the male in front.

“I can spare some time, lead the way officer.”

The hallway was dead compared to the bustle of the main street. You peered at the Everwinter Monument that stood tall in the middle of the busy area, glistening in the light.

You cleared your throat. “Well, if you could state the meaning of my appearance here, that would be lovely,” you questioned and matched your eyes with the light blue ones ahead of you. Gepard played with his fingertips before speaking.

“Ahh yes. Well, I was just thinking if the Supreme Guardian has any means of… Letting my rank falter. It seems that my usual capabilities to serve her aren’t the same as they used to be rather— too easy? Might I add,” Gepard replied, tone drifting off in thought. You pondered the fact if Bronya truly felt the need to let him go. Before you got placed in the high-ranking position, Gepard handled the job in a concise and efficient manner. Needless to say, he should’ve been the one in your shoes and you felt a wave of anxiety rush through your body.

You’ve admired his work ethic; his perseverance to keep going forth and setting his goals straight. It’s no wonder as to why he gained such a fanbase and large amount of support — and not to mention, him being your role model towards this job in the first place. Dampness secreted from your palms as you hastily wiped it down onto your sleeves, you crossed your arms together and eyed Gepard.

“I believe not, Mr. Landau,” you continued, “the Supreme Guardian wouldn’t let her most reputable and reliable guard to be put to waste.”

His eyebrows subtly moved upwards at your words, seemingly soothed the worries from his mind.

“I am honoured to hear that,” he replied, relief gracing his tongue.

“And no need for formalities, I am younger than you by a year. Plus, position hierarchy doesn’t apply much to me when it comes to you.”

A joyous chuckle left his lips. “Well then, care to explain?”

“I envy you, Mr. Landau, you should be the one in my position at this point,” you teased and a smile appeared on your face. Gepard noticed and coughed slightly into the side of his wrist, a hue of a faint pink dusted his cheekbones.

“I may have a proposal to solve both of our issues—” you sauntered and fiddled with the ends of your garments, “—if you are up to it, that is.”

A curious gaze befell on his face as he matched the stature of your body.

“Go on.”

An affirmative hum left your lips. “It is not that I dislike my job, I thoroughly enjoy my work. However, the chances of gaining a favourable vacation are out of my reach currently… One that I should have been granted beforehand. The workload I have been assigned isn’t fit for just one person— and I could easily finish it, but I need some time to regain my mental stability back.”

Right. With newcomers sweeping Qlipoth from the Underworld to seek higher-ranked careers, the remaining individuals received a lessened workload compared to the rest. It was a plausible explanation as to why the guards hasn't done their duties as often as before. Gepard dazed into the comforting afternoon sun that draped down Belobog, the bluebells dancing within the air caught his attention.

His stare lingered onto the flowers as he spoke, “so all you are requesting is for settled time off? And to grant that, you must finish the remaining workload you currently have now? Do correct me if I am wrong.”

“Yes, that is correct,” you replied, following his gaze to the flower shop just below the window.

“I’ll grant you that request.”

You whiplashed your head to face him straight on.

“That quickly? I do not mind waiting for a proper answer—“ Gepard stopped you and let out a breathy chuckle.

“That proposal does indeed solve both of our issues... You need time off while I need some more time on," he agreed with a small smile gracing his face. "May I ask one more request on my side?"

You nodded your head curtly and watched him angle towards you, the orange hue from the setting sun basked Gepard in a warm, heavenly aura compared to the iciness of the horrific snowstorms in the distance. Never once had a man bestowed such an ethereal appearance on you, but looking at Gepard in such a quiet and intimate state caused a thump in your heart.

"Allow me to take you on a date once you have been granted some free time, think of it as a 'please' and a 'thank you.'"

#honkai star rail #gepard #gepard honkai #gepard landau #gepard x reader #gepard x y/n #gepard x gender neutral reader #gepard x you #hsr x y/n #hsr x reader #hsr gepard

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just-dreaming-marvel · 3 months ago

Text

Caught In A Web ~ 26

CAUGHT IN A WEB MASTERLIST

< previous chapter

Word Count: 2,165ish

Summary: Tony and you work on yourselves while apart.

Notes: This chapter is a little bit of a filler chapter... hope you guys still enjoy it!

When you woke up from Wanda’s spell, you were alone in your room. It surprised you to find yourself alone, especially since the whole Team was concerned. You got up and slowly made your way into the hall. Without even thinking, you found your way to Tony’s room. His familiar scent filled your nostrils as you opened the door. It was woody, yet metal. You couldn’t understand how he made that happen, but he did.

You walked in and noted how unorganized it was. Papers, Stark tablets, shirts, and mugs littered the room. You called it unorganized because you felt that it was neater than messy. Flopping onto his bed, you grabbed his pillow and fully inhaled his scent. Tears filled your eyes.

Tony wasn’t dead. He was in Malibu. He had left… he had left though he had promised not to leave your side. How were you supposed to feel safe without him?

Sitting up, you let go of the pillow and grabbed a t-shirt from the floor. You slipped it on before leaving the room. You couldn’t tell how you truly felt about Tony leaving, but you knew that you needed to take care of some things before seeing him again. Your feet led you to the door of your therapist. She opened soon after you knocked.

“Can we talk?”

~~~

“Have you talked to anyone at the Compound?” Rhodey asked as he and Steve stopped their work to eat some food.

“Natasha has been in touch,” Steve replied. “Y/N has been seeing her therapist daily and training with the others.”

“What have you told her about here?”

“Well, that we could start a construction company, first off.”

“That’s true. Has Y/N asked about Tony at all?”

“No, at least not to Nat. Have you heard anything about her from Tony?”

Rhodey sighed. “He only talks about this project and only this project in the week and a half that we’ve been here.”

Muttering under his breath, Bucky came over to the other two men.

“What’s going on, Buck?” Steve asked.

“Mr. Perfectionist said I’m not allowed to touch any of the electric tools anymore,” Bucky responded. “He said my old ways are ruining the house.”

“He’s getting worse,” Rhodey said. “Not solving any issues by distracting himself with projects is Tony’s M.O. Maybe we bring Y/N into this.”

“She may be the only one able to help,” Steve added.

“Ask Natasha for her opinion,” Bucky told Steve. “Y/N may not be ready herself.”

~~~

The tablet resting on the table in front of you gave you a view of all the perimeter cameras. Fury’s additional military aid had successfully scared some of the press away and had pushed back the others. Wanda had used her powers to enchant the trees across the river and along the electric fence line, hurting anyone with poor intentions.

You stared out the window and to the trees in the direction you knew the training grounds Tony made for you were. Your palms were getting sweatier with each passing second as if your powers were itching to be used. You hadn’t left the inside of the Compound since arriving there with Tony almost two weeks ago. It never felt safe enough.

You had been working with your therapist on feeling safe, what you can control, and what to do when you can’t control it. She had challenged you to get out of the building and do something. You told her about what Tony made you, and she thought that heading out there would be a good idea. It had been five hours since that conversation, and you had been sitting at the table staring out the window ever since.

Natasha and Bruce had been watching you for the past thirty minutes, getting worried. They kept eyeing each other, wanting the other person to figure out a plan.

“I can feel you staring,” you stated quietly. The two moved into the room and sat on either side of you. “I’m trying to get the courage to go out and train.”

“Do you want one of us to come with you?” Natasha asked.

You gave yourself a moment to think before nodding.

“I’ll go with you,” offered Bruce. Natasha was a bit surprised, as he often opted out of training, but she rolled with it.

“Thanks,” you whispered. “I’ll get my bag and meet you at the door.”

You got up and went to the room attached to the training rooms that held the suits and other needed items. You took a duffle bag and threw some items in there before pausing in front of your suit. It was the first time you’d seen it since the mission weeks prior. It didn’t take long for you to notice that the suit was new. You reached out and brushed the fabric. It was different than your first suit, sturdier if possible.

Tears filled your eyes as you thought about Tony making this after the mission. After the two of you had struggled and barely got out of there. Tony seemed to put your safety first in every way, so why did he run away?

Clearing your throat, you grabbed the suit and headed to where you said you’d meet Bruce. He was already there, a bag of his own slung over his shoulder.

“You ready?” He asked, trying to gauge your emotions before you answered.

You nodded with a swallow. Bruce opened the door and waited for you to make the first step out. Taking a deep breath, you walked out of the door. Bruce made sure to keep in step with you, just in case. He could tell that you were starting to stress but pushed it down. You looked like you were going to pass out by the time you reached the training area.

“You should sit,” Bruce recommended.

“Yeah, okay,” you nodded, sitting near a large tree that you could lean against.

Bruce studied what Tony had made. “I’ve seen these plans in drawings. Tony did good.”

“Yeah… he did.” You opened your bag and took out your suit. “He always does good.”

“Is that the new one?”

“I think so.”

You stood up and slipped it on over your training clothes. As soon as the mask was over your head, memories came flooding through your mind.

Your first time meeting Tony…

Letting out a sigh of relief, you went to pull off your mask, but you stopped yourself when you felt like you were being watched. Looking to the side you realized that Iron Man was staring right at you.

“Impressive,” he complimented through the suit.

“Thanks,” you responded, swallowing nervously. “What brings you around these parts, Iron Man? A little far from your glamorous tower, aren’t you?”

“You are actually the reason I’m out and about tonight.”

When Tony came up with the deal…

“What if I make you a deal?” You stopped walking backward and waited for him to continue. “Meet me on top of this building every Saturday evening, and I won’t force you to come to the tower for the eval.”

“Why?”

The shoulders of the Iron Man suit barely moved up as he shrugged. “Why not?”

You couldn’t tell what he wanted from you exactly, but you sensed he needed a friend. “Okay,” you nodded. “Yeah. I can do that… I guess I’ll see you next week, tin man.”

“I’m looking forward to it, spidey girl.”

When he offered to make you a suit…

“Did you sew this suit yourself?”

“I did.”

“You’re clearly not a professional seamstress.”

“Hey!” You playfully swatted at him. “Like you could do better.”

“Actually, I could. A lot better.”

“Are you offering to make me a suit?”

“Only if you want it.”

You shrugged. “I’ll think about it.”

“You’ll think about it? Tony Stark is offering to personally make you a suit and you’re just going to think about it?”

“Oh yeah.” You were smirking under the mask.

“You can’t be serious?”

“Completely.”

He shook his head. “You’re unbelievable, spidey girl.”

“I know.”

“Y/N?” Bruce’s voice pulled you from the memories.

“Hmm?” You hummed, looking at him through the mask.

“You okay?”

“Yeah,” you nodded. “Just… thinking.”

You then broke into a sprint before leaping. You threw your arm out and shot a web onto one of the higher beams. Using the web, you swung yourself up and over the bars. Bruce watched as you swung and flipped around the training area. He smiled as he noted how your body seemed to realize more than it had in weeks. He even heard to let out a few laughs as you let yourself be free. Bruce pulled out a tablet to work as you let yourself swing.

It felt so great for you to be using your powers and swinging again. But it truly made you miss the days when you and Tony would fly around the city. When you were just spidey-girl, and he was just tin man. It was somehow so much simpler.

You flipped to the ground, landing with a satisfying thud. You ripped your mask off with a smile. Bruce stood to meet you.

“How was it?” He asked.

“It was good,” you answered, panting slightly. “Very much needed.”

“That’s good. How are you feeling?”

“Okay… I’m feeling okay.”

“Okay is still good.”

“I know… would you come out here with me again tomorrow?”

“Of course.” The two of you began the walk back to the Compound. “Have you talked to Tony?” You shook your head, opting to remain silent. “I’m sure he’ll be back soon.”

“Yeah,” you mumbled.

You would hope that Tony would come running back, but you were doubting it. Half the Team had been called to Malibu to be with Tony, and you didn’t know the exact reason why. You could only hope that being apart would get yourselves to a good enough place to work the rest of it out together.

~~~

Tony had personal trailers brought in for those helping him, even a few extras. Steve, Rhodey, Bucky, and Sam were all meeting in Steve’s trailer while Tony was still out there working in the middle of the night.

“He’s running on fumes,” Rhodey stated.

“It’s Stark,” Sam said. “He’s always running on fumes.”

“This is different, Sam. This is… a love-stricken fool.”

“I think we need to call Y/N and get her here,” Steve suggested.

“No,” Bucky quickly responded. “We need to allow Y/N the time she deserves to heal. She’s making strides there; I talked to Nat and Bruce tonight. We can’t do something that will ruin this for her.”

“It wouldn’t hurt to see if she’s up for it.”

“It could hurt. It could hurt Y/N and Tony. They are the ones who have the make the first moves. We can’t force this on them.”

A loud crash suddenly sounded from outside the trailer. The men rushed out of the trailer to see that part of the wall had fallen down. Tony was standing to the side with an Iron Man gauntlet on, staring at the fallen wall.

“What the hell happened?” Bucky asked, rushing up to the man.

Tony shrugged, walking towards his trailer, which sat opposite everyone else’s. “I hated the wall. Need to go back to the drawing board.”

“He’s lost it,” Sam stated as Tony disappeared into his trailer.

Rhodey closed his eyes and rubbed his forehead. “Why couldn’t he have just hired someone out for this?” He asked.

In Tony’s trailer, he was staring at ten different drafts of the house. He wanted it similar to his old place but new and designed with you in mind. Nothing was turning out the way he wanted it to be—perfect. You deserved nothing less than perfect.

Mindlessly, Tony used a tablet to get the day’s security feed of the Compound. He watched as you went to training with Nat and therapy. Then he watched you eat lunch and stare out the window. Tony was silently killing himself over the way he simply disappeared. But he wasn’t brave enough to return unless he had something to show that the time apart was worth it. He was really questioning his own thought process.

As the video footage from the Compound continued, Tony noticed you and Bruce training out on the equipment Tony had built. He let himself smile for a moment as he watched you train in the new suit he had made you, noting more improvements that could be made. You were so amazing. Despite everything, you weren’t holed up in your room but chose to keep going. You hadn’t even chosen to leave the Compound, to officially leave Tony. He had to take that as a good thing.

Tony grew sad as he continued to think about you and miss you. He needed to make this right, more than he was already trying to. Because Tony Stark never thought he was doing enough.

next chapter >

#tony stark imagine #avengers x reader #marvel fanfiction #avengers fanfiction #tony stark fanfiction #tony stark x reader #the avengers x reader #marvel imagine #avengers imagine #tony stark x you #tony stark x y/n #tony stark x female!reader #tony stark x fem!reader #tony stark x f!reader #tony stark x female reader #iron man imagine #iron man x reader #iron man fanfiction

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aravas-writing · 10 months ago

Note

(Secret Star AU)

"Naughty School girl gets punished"

Emerald wasn't one for taking jobs like these, but she had to admit, it was kinda nice being "scouted" by a producer on the street. She never saw herself as pretty or even hot, but she had been assured she was perfect for the scrip she was currently reading through.

Playing naughty wasn't difficult, but taking the blonde Teacher's punishment, was both hard and hot as hell.

To say that Emerald was nervous as hell would be...correct. There was no joke here; this was reality.

After signing up for the pornstar gig, she had actually hoped for a lesbian piece with Cinder. The girl's adoration for her saviour was almost concerning. It was unfortunate that the greenette was not allowed to star with her crush.

What she got was a different scene and a rather...excited Cinder. Of course she would not openly show it, but the way the seductress fidgeted from time to time gave it away. The final piece of evidence for that was when the guy Emerald was supposed to star with came onto the set.

"Jamie, there you are," Cinder cooed at him, nearly jumping out of her chair to greet him properly. It was a jarring sight for a girl who saw her mistress as someone always in control.

He laughed. "Hi, Cin! How are you? And its still Jau-" Pleasantries were exchanged as the thief struggled to reconcile the image of her mistress with the young woman before her now. Sure, Blondie boy was not too shabby to look at, if a bit scraggly. Still, him?

"Upupupup." Cinder shushed him. "We are still on the set. It's Jamie for you and Cinnamon for me. Speaking of spices..." Cinder brushed off invisible dust here and there, pulling the fabric around. "This jacket is the exact opposite of 'spicy'. What was the costume department thinking?"

Jamie laughed about it. "I'm thinking you're too much of a perfectionist. They fit my role as 'hardass teacher who ends up snapping'."

Teacher? Emerald looked down at her own clothing, suddenly reminded that she was to fill the role of an unruly schoolgirl getting punished. She had to clean herself thoroughly for that role and wear clothes she would never ever wear outdoors. That skirt was too skimpy!

"There is such a thing as too much." She gave him one last critical look before nodding. "I suppose that will have to do. Oh, and Jamie?"

Cinder leaned towards his ear, standing on her toes to reach it and whispered something. What exactly, Emerald couldn't tell, but it got him blushing like a cherry boy.

Seriously, he was the star of this show?! Sure, the thief never saw anything of his, but she didn't need to to get a picture of him as a virgin.

Well, not one anymore. Lucky dick.

Chocolate skin, deep cleavage and a real badonkadonk were crammed into a schoolgirl uniform one size too small, emphasizing the curves and conjuring fantasies. With barely audible claps, those cheeks moved to the office of her teacher. A real sweetheart, but way too uptight for some tastes. His morals were actually the reason she was there in the first place.

Well, that and-

"Come in."

His strict visage just barely managed to not make Emerald laugh. Yeah, blondie- Mr Darc wasn't suited for doling out discipline.

"You wanted to see me?" She played coy, pretending not to know that she was here because of-

"That outfit of yours." Right to the meat, huh? "Its way too small!"

She tittered like a brainless bimbo. "Aww, scared you will see things you shouldn't?"

"Do you want to catch a cold?"

What.

Emerald blinked, just barely catching the director making a throwing motion. "Huh? A cold?"

Blondie stood up harshly, his eyes narrow. "Do you have any idea how easy it is to get sick because you barely dress?"

"I have aura."

"Not an excuse!" His palm slammed onto the table as his voice turned into one more authoritative. "It will stifle your growth, your health and your grades as well! Or do you think that a lack of oxygen can help your failing classes?"

The student stood up, fury marring her face. "What the fuck do my grades have to do with this?! Are you just looking for some excuse to not have me dressed up like that so you don't feel guilty jerking it to schoolgirls?" She raised a finger and tapped it against his chest. "Fucking virgin."

That seemed to make his blood boil, judging by Blondie's expression. "You little..." he snarled. Then he rounded the table and Emerald's view turned very suddenly towards the floor. When her brain caught up to what happened, the unruly student realized that she was currently lying on his lap.

"That does it!"

SLAP

Emerald gasped at the stinging sensation against her ass. She knew that it was part of her role, but actually doing it was different.

SLAP

Her butt jiggled after each hit, something she knew the perverts watching this would love to see.

"Every time with you!"

SLAP

She was not going to moan.

"Do you know how many problems you're causing?!"

SLAP

She was not getting wet...

"Do you have any idea what some of less scrupulous would do to you?!"

SLAP

She was not actually getting off to this, no way-

SLAP

"Tell me!" He demanded. "What do you think would happen?!"

SLAP

Fuck it.

"I'd get fucked like the bitch I am!" She confessed, her legs clenching as she held herself back from climax. She was moaning, was getting off to being spanked by her betters...it just felt too good!

"Exactly," he said, rubbing her sore butt. "Now you know why I was angry, right?"

She had no idea what to say next. The slutty schoolgirl looked for help, blanking on her lines. She was supposed to say something here...

That was when her crimson eyes met Cinder's golden ones. She showed her subordinate an approving smirk and made a gesture at her. It was clear as day.

Go on.

"N-no," she lied. "I need more discipline."

SLAP

"Guess you need an intense crash course, then," Mr Darc grumbled in faked dissatisfaction before pulling down her thong.

That was when the real fun began. Emerald was getting spanked hard, then fingered even harder until she came, shrieking in joy. But he wasn't done with his slutty student. He made her strip in front of him, opening her jacket and losing everything beyond that. The only thing allowed to stay below the belt were her stockings.

He pinched her nipples and led her to his chair by pulling them. Already, Emerald was was acting like a dog- no, a bitch. A real bitch, loyal to master and mistress. She got to suck on master's fingers, cleaning them of her slutty juices.

Every look Emerald could steal towards Cinder, she saw her approval. Every command she followed from Mr Darc was met with approval. She happily looked at two dildos he showed her - both of them confiscated. She lubed them up for him before feeling one of them getting shoved in her ass.

The bitch couldn't help herself and came, screaming her sorry over and over as more of her juices stained the floor. She had no idea her asshole was such a good spot!

Finally, one last time, she was allowed to present herself. It was a treat for master; she could see it from the way his cock bulged out from inside his pants and how she showed her teeth. Sweaty from the exertion and exhilaration, her pussy leaking like a broken faucet, the bitch crouched and spread her legs, making sure her arms were behind her head so he could see it all. She should be allowed to behold this slut, his slut...

"I'm a bitch," she slurred. "I'm your bitch."

Her gaze wandered up to his blue eyes - weren't master's eyes yellow? And she saw approval.

His hand gently rested around her neck, squeezing it slightly. "Do you want to be a good girl?" He asked, earning a puzzled look from her. She didn't understand; was she not his slut, her plaything? Why would she be Cinder's good girl if she could be Mr Darc's slut?

"Good girls get rewards," he murmured, letting his hand travel from her neck to her breast and squeezing it.

The stupid bitch understood and shivered in delight. Her head was empty, there was only pleasure.

"Make me a good girl," she purred.

"Holy hell!" Jaune exclaimed. He was breathing a bit heavier after the shoot had ended, peering over to the near comatose Emerald. She had been wrapped in a bathrobe and the set people were fanning her flushed face. "I am not used to that."

He heard Cinder tittering. "For someone not used to being a dom, you conducted yourself very well." Her hand traced his shoulder as she came up behind Jaune, looking at a well fucked Emerald. "You really killed it."

Emerald would agree, were she still conscious. When she came to, she admitted it only to herself as she was allowed a copy of the newest short film of Jamie Darc.

It was the first time she ever watched porn, and the first time she masturbated so furiously.

#rwby #rwby smut #secret star au #emerald sustrai #jaune arc #cinder fall

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alexitheslayer02 · 1 month ago

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Fandoms: Please Read, I will rant a bit, but this is also a thank you to Lies of P and Jttw fans/fandoms. Be patient with me because I do go on a tangent hhh

So far, the fandoms I felt the most comfortable around have been the Lies of P fandom and the Jttw fandoms. I have not felt unwelcome with these fandoms, and that is a first. For context. I have seen Bnha (or Mha, aka. My Hero Academia), Creepypasta, ASOIAF/GoT. [Note: I'm a former member of Quotev, and I was young when I started interacting with fandoms. I was like, eleven to twelve, and not supposed to be on the internet at that time] Now, I know people have to know about some of these fandoms. Some are fairly infamous. My experiences with the ones mentioned above, specifically bnha and creepypasta, have lead me to say things like "I am a fan of the media, but I am NOT part of the fandom", because I never really felt welcome in the fandom, OR, people assumed things about BECAUSE I was in the fandom. For example. Bnha. Now, I hate confrontations. I hate conflict, and I just don't like to get involved in it. And I honestly could not care less what people ship because it's none of my business, that's their business and it's fictional characters. Bnha had the BIGGEST ship war I have ever seen when i got into the fandom. The war of Bakudeku was intense and brutal, to the point where I was like "fuck this shit I'm out". Cause some folks got mad at me for trying to play Switzerland.

Now, Creepypasta. This was my first fandom, and the people I met and interacted with were, thankfully, the chill half of the fandom. The casual enjoyers of the stories. This was during my phase when I was really into horror. I still am in all honesty. I watched horror films a lot. My dad is a big fan of horror. Specifically, my first slasher film was the og A Nightmare on Elm Street. Then my first paranormal film was The Conjuring. So there we go. Now, my problem here was, I was chill. I just found the stories fascinating as an aspiring writer. The characters were interesting to me at the time. My favorite was Candy Pop and BEN Drowned. What happened was people harassed me for being a fan. Cause apparently the fandom is infamous for being, fanatically, unhinged. These strangers, whom I never interacted with, claimed I was a "murder simp" because my account was BEN Drowned themed at that time. I would never simp after a murderer. I know the difference between right and wrong. But apparently, these people were so convinced of my supposed guilt, that they reported me, and I had to create a new account on Quotev, (you can join Q without an email). I never went Creepypasta themed again, because I was scared of getting harassed again, and I almost lost complete contact with my girlfriend (we were only friends back then, again, I was twelve at the time).

In the more recent months. ASOIAF has been frustrating to me. It has amazing fanart. I adore the series. My favorite characters are Robb, Arya, and Jon. I fucking hate so many of the fans though. Specifically how they talk about GRRM when it comes to Winds of Winter, like... I get it. You want to read the book, some of you have been waiting a long ass time. But as an aspiring writer, and someone who tries to be a decent person, it deeply bothers how they treat the man. WRITING IS HARD. The man was depressed because he had friends die back to back and had to rewrite the entire book. And I doubt anyone saying "he'll die before he finishes the series" is helping anything! Patrick Rothfuss' fans are another fanbase I have a grudge against for how they treat the author, and I have not even read Mr. Rothfuss' books. That man is a manic depressive and a perfectionist, yet fans keep shit talking him for not completing his book. WTF people, what is wrong with these so called 'fans'? Shit talking is not gonna make people write faster, in fact, if I was the writer anyway, I would be less inclined to write with those people on my case, I would get depressed! *cough*

Anyway.... I digress. I have problems with ASOIAF fans. SO what was the point of me bringing those other fandoms up? Because Lies of P and Black Myth Wukong fandoms have been so nice and so chill with their own brand of chaos that is honestly beautiful. Literally when it comes to the fanart cause my LORD these two fandoms in particular have some GORGEOUS fanart, I absolutely ADORE these artists! And like, they've been so welcoming as well. While I have not directly interacted with a lot of Lies of P fans, since it was before I officially started blogging, but I met some really nice people in comments. As for jttw, when I started blogging my reading progress with Journey to the West, I had a really fun conversation with someone who read it before. And when I saw a particularly gorgeous piece of fanart (it was for lmk, which I still have yet to watch), and the artist and I had a fun conversation as well about art and the show in question. WHICH, if I can find it, I will watch it with my little brother. I am intrigued because of what the artist said, I also talked to my girlfriend about it, and she said it was good. So don't worry lmk fandom, I'm gonna be on it soon. But yes. The Lies of P, and Jttw fandoms (including Lmk and Black Myth: Wukong, cause it all sort of merged into a beautiful amalgamation XD) have been real nice to me as far as first impressions go, and it is such a huge relief to me. This is one of the few times I can say I actually feel part of the fandom instead of a "fucking tourist" (as the Dragon Age devs would call me -_-)

Anyway, I just wanted to say thank you to these wonderful, chaotic people ^^ Some honorable mentions to certain people I talked to. (@un-dermask by the way is the artist in question. I highly recommend checking them out, they have some beautiful artwork for lmk, as well as an interesting au for the undertale fans)

(@weaverworks is the kind soul whom I spoke to while blogging my Journey to West progress. DON'T WORRY, I will continue to read it. I just have some work to get done. Though I don't guarantee I will blog it as much as I did yesterday. We'll see.)

#my life #my fandoms #fandom things #journey to the west #black myth wukong #lies of p #a little autobiography of dealings with fandoms #lmk honorable mention #me going on tangents

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missmaniac25 · 1 year ago

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Ateez: Scenarios with your necklaces

Heavily inspired by this smau by @ronnierites (hi friend, if you want to not be tagged but leave the link, let me know please❤️) and also my own self indulgence because I wear necklaces. Each member's blurb is between 280 and 320 words but here's a tl;dr:

Hongjoong: getting the clasp fixed Seonghwa: moving the clasp to the back of your neck Yunho: untangling them from each other Yeosang: pulling them out so the charm can be seen San: taking them to get cleaned Mingi: fiddling with the charm/s Wooyoung: detangling them from his own necklace Jongho: keeping them safe (in a special bag) when you have to take them off

Hongjoong: “It’s not that bad,” you tell him over the phone. “I’ll just have to find some time to go to the jewellers. Just an inconvenience really.”

Hongjoong is listening as best as he can on his end with the noise that’s around him. He’s gotten ‘necklace broken’, ‘not bad’ and ‘inconvenience’.

“Babe, don’t stress about it.” He’s interrupted by the rest of the members ‘ooo-ing’ at his words. “I’ll sort it out for you.”

And sort it out he does. It’s a week later when you’re chilling at the dorms with him that you bring it up again.

“Arg. I still need to take my necklace in to get fixed,” you gripe, running your hands over your face.

“No, you don’t,” Hongjoong says from beside you. He reaches to his bedside table, retrieving a small pouch which he hands to you.

In your confused state, you open the little pouch and tip the contents out, only to be met with your own necklace. As you hold it up, you can clearly see that it’s now in one piece as opposed to when you last saw it laying on your chest of drawers.

“But…” You stop, unable to think clearly.

Hongjoong takes the opportunity to defend himself.

“Yes, maybe I stole your necklace but it’s fixed so now you can wear it again. And I got the little bag so that I wouldn’t lose it because I know you…”

He’s stopped short as you place a kiss to his lips.

“Thank you,” you tell your boyfriend. “You really didn’t have to. I know how busy you are.”

He smiles and snuggles a bit closer.

“Never too busy to help you.”

Seonghwa:

Seonghwa loves your necklaces. He loves when they catch the light and he has an excuse to look at your neck. He thinks they look so elegant on you and just… are you. But one thing he doesn’t like about the necklaces is when they don’t cooperate. You couldn’t be bothered to always have them with the clasp at the back because you know that sooner or later it’ll naturally move to the front again.

Seonghwa however, is annoyed by it. He likes when your necklaces look neat, so he’s made it his life’s mission to always, always move the clasp to the back of your neck.

“Love, come here.”

Seonghwa’s voice is calm but you can already tell what’s coming. You walk over, moving your hair out of the way.

“Alright, Mr Perfectionist, get it over with.”

“But… I didn’t even say anything…”

You just give him a pointed look and he relents. He stands up, places himself in front of you and easily locates the clasp. He holds it in one hand and in the other, the charm. Like he’s done a thousand times before, he slides the clasp back before gently placing it down. He has a very self-satisfied look on his face. You pat him on the cheek before returning to whatever it was you were doing before.

Sometimes he just does it without even saying anything which is only a problem when his hands are cold.

Yunho:

Spending time with Yunho is always fun and relaxing but sleepovers have to be your favourite activity with him. It really is like having a slumber party with your best friend: you guys get takeout, watch movies and stay up talking until the early hours of the morning. And, of course, waking up next to him is a great bonus.

“Mmmm… morning,” Yunho says softly; his morning voice is to die for.

You roll over to peak at him with one eye, really hoping that he’ll agree to going back to sleep alongside you.

He smiles and gives you a quick kiss on the cheek before lying back down next to you. His eyes look over every detail, taking in every inch of you that he can. He wants to commit it all to memory.

It doesn’t take long for the both of you to end up wrapped in each other’s arms again, sometimes awake, sometimes asleep. It doesn’t really matter. It’s almost an hour later when you both finally decide to sit up and face the day.

“Morning,” you say, stretching your arms over your head.

“Morning, love.” Yunho smiles lazily at you and something catches his eye.

Very carefully, he pulls your necklaces out from your shirt, noticing how they’ve tangled around themselves. Then with a serious look of concentration on his face, Yunho begins the detangling process.

Normally, you would just let them be until later in the day but you don’t want to disturb him. Plus, he looks cute when he’s thinking hard. His fingers sometimes brush against the skin of your neck, tickling you slightly.

Finally, Yunho lets them rest again on your chest before looking back to you. When his eyes reach yours, he smiles and you can’t but smile and giggle at him.

If you could wake up like this every day with him, you would.

Yeosang:

Yeosang thinks that your necklaces are perfect, just like you. He loves when they catch the light and sparkle just a little, making you seem like you’re straight out of a fairytale. So, because of this, Yeosang likes them to be seen (mostly by him) which means he has a tendency to just pull them out from under your shirt at random times. Not that it’s entirely a bad thing. It’s just that the action feels very intimate to you – the way his fingertips dance over your neck as he gently pulls on the chain; his eyes focused until the charms are resting neatly on your clothes.

Time and place, is all you’re really asking him to consider.

You sit with Yeosang at the dorm, along with most of the other members who decided that this was a place to be today. Mingi, Yunho and Wooyoung all sit in the lounge with you two - talking, looking at their phones, whatever. It’s only when you feel Yeosang’s fingers brush against your skin that you realise he wants to do.

“Yeo, please just leave it.”

Your words attract the attention of the others in the room, their heads shooting up to see what’s happening.

“I just want to fix your necklaces,” he says as he works.

“They’re fine, leave them.”

Yeosang looks at you, somewhat confused. You try your best to be discrete as you motion to the three musketeers. Wooyoung already has a cheeky smile on his face, and Yunho and Mingi are eyeing each other.

“Just,” you try to backtrack. “Not here.”

Your words swim around his head before he stands up and grabs your hand, pulling you down the hallway. The calamity of noise that follows you is not unnoticed.

Once behind a closed door, Yeosang returns to what he was doing without even pausing and as he gently places the charms to rest on your shirt, you can’t help but smile. He may be confused, but at least he’s still considerate.

San:

San is always looking out for others and his partner is no exception to this. He’s always finding ways to make your life easier or to simply spoil you. So, you’re not entirely shocked when he bounces into the room one day with a smile on his face and says:

“I need you to give me your necklaces, I want to do something for you.”

Now, you love San but that is a rather strange and vague request. You can’t help the hesitancy in your voice as you reply.

“What exactly do you want to do?” Your hand goes to touch the metal around your neck.

“Please just trust me.” He pouts and you know you can’t resist.

You sigh as you carefully remove your necklaces and give them to San, who can’t stop smiling.

“You won’t regret this, I promise.”

It’s three days later when you see San again. He still has a smug smile on his face that doesn’t even go away when you kiss him ‘hello’.

“So…?” You prompt, hoping to finally get some answers out of him.

Proudly, he holds out a little bag with the name of a local jeweller on it. To say that you’re confused would be an understatement, nevertheless you take it and open it. Inside you can see your necklaces but something seems a little bit different although you can’t place your finger on it.

“I got them professionally cleaned for you!” San finally announces, and you melt inside.

“Sannie, you didn’t have to do that,” you chide.

“I know,” he says, taking the bag back and helping you to put your necklaces back on. “But I wanted to. And I know how much they mean to you so it felt like the right thing to do.”

You smile and hug him tightly, not that he minds one bit. “What did I do to deserve you, Sannie?”

Mingi:

Mingi is a nervous person. He doesn’t often let it show but he is. It’s just that his nerves manifest quietly, in a way. You notice it in the little things that he does or sometimes doesn’t do. He’ll take longer to eat because he’s pushing the food around in the bowl as he thinks. He forgets things like his phone charger when he’s gone for a long time. But the most obvious one for you, is his fiddling.

Pushing his food around while he’s lost in thought. Pulling at threads on his clothes. And your favourite, when he plays with the charm of your necklace. Obviously, it doesn’t happen very often because it’s not like he can just walk up to you and start playing with it. But it’s when you two are lying together, usually on the couch, when you’re supposed to be watching a movie or series, and Mingi’s mind just slowly drifts off. It’s very subconscious that his hand will make its way to your chest or your neck, and pull on the chain that lies there. Without missing a beat, he places and replaces the charm between his fingers.

“Everything ok, love?” You ask as you look up at him.

“Hmmm?” Mingi really has no idea what you’re saying, his thoughts elsewhere.

“You’re fidgeting, love,” you say, glancing down to where his hand is. “Something’s keeping you preoccupied.”

Mingi finally realises what’s going on and he laughs softly in your ear.

“Sorry, I didn’t…”

“It’s ok. I don’t mind.”

You gently reach up behind you to pat Mingi’s cheek before he tells you what’s been bothering him. He continues to play with the charm as he does but truly, you don’t mind. As long as Mingi feels some kind of relief.

Wooyoung:

Wooyoung likes wearing jewellery – it’s an expression of himself. And you love seeing jewellery on him because he just looks so good.

It’s a free day for both of you so you’re making the most of it. You snuggle closer to him as you both lie on his bed, teasing him a bit by kissing near his ear. Wooyoung giggles softly at your antics and tries to pull away only for…

“Ow!” You yelp as you feel a tug at the back of your neck.

“What’s wrong!?” Wooyoung’s tone immediately changes.

He tries to sit up only for you to yelp in pain again. Finally, you both look down between you only to see that your necklaces and his chain have decided to become one piece of jewellery and that’s what’s causing the issue.

“How the hell did that happen?” He asks, already trying to undo the tangles.

“It’ll be easier if you take yours off.” You offer your two cents, to which his response is to unclasp your necklaces instead.

Wooyoung sits back against his pillows and continues. He looks kind of funny, with his chin almost tucked into his neck as he attempts to see what he’s doing; you can’t help the giggle that escapes you.

“What are you laughing at?” He says with a sassy look at you.

“If you just listened to me, I wouldn’t be laughing at you, baby”

He playfully mimics your words softly as he then relents and unclasps his own chain and sets the pile down on the blankets in front of him.

Wooyoung takes his time but soon enough, he’s made sense of the mess you two had made. He pulls you closer and puts your necklaces back on you, and you do the same for him, taking the chance pull him closer by the back of the neck and kiss him.

“Smart boy,” you tease and kiss him again.

Jongho:

“This feels so strange,” you confess, touching your bare neck.

In your other hand, you hold your necklaces. The ones that you never take off.

Jongho is watching with his big, deep eyes as he sits opposite from where you stand in your room. He knows what your necklaces mean to you and he knows that this must be very alien to you.

“It’s like… I’m naked, without actually being naked,” you confess. “You know?”

“I know,” he says, keeping an eye on your hands. “But you’re doing something nice for your friend. I’m sure the photo’s will be worth it.”

You sigh because he’s right and because you now face a new dilemma.

“But where can I put these though?” You say, gesturing to your necklaces. “I don’t want to lose them; I need somewhere safe!”

Jongho seems to pick up that this whole ordeal is rattling you a bit. Maybe it’s the nerves due to the fact that your friend had asked you to model some clothes for their website and now that the day had arrived, you were feeling anxious. Maybe it really was about the necklaces. Either way, Jongho doesn’t like seeing you so worked up about something that in reality was so small.

“I’ll keep them,” he says, taking you by surprise.

He calmly pulls his backpack closer to him and digs around the inside. He lets out a small ‘ahuh!’ as he finally pulls out a little drawstring bag.

“I normally keep one on me,” Jongho admits. “They make us do very weird things for Wanteez episodes and I don’t like risking my jewellery.”

Confidently, he stands up and steps towards you, opening the bag as he does. With deft fingers he picks up the necklaces, brushing his fingertips against the palm of your hand as he does so, and let’s them fall into their temporary home.

The gesture is so thoughtful and sweet that at first, you don’t know how to react. Finally, you do what you do best and give him a soft peck on the lips. The smile you get in return is worth it.

#i have no idea if this will do well or not but who cares #ateez fluff #ateez ot8 #ateez fanfic #ateez x y/n #if there's spelling errors or anything strange please let me know #miss maniacs writing

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skzhocomments · 7 months ago

Text

The Five Stages of Grief - Bang Chan Oneshot Fanfic

(And a second cover because I couldn't decide)

General Masterlist

Pairing: Bang Chan (Stray Kids) x OC/Reader (Story is written in 2nd person, no name is mentioned)

Genre: angst

Word Count: ~10k

Warnings: death, devastatingly sad, mentions of self-harm, suicidal thoughts. No comfort, although it does end in a positive note. Ending is hopeful if you squint.

This is just a story that doesn’t describe Bang Chan or other mentioned Stray Kids’ members true characters in any way. It’s just a product of my imagination and should be treated as such.

This story is also on Wattpad (click here) and AO3 (click here)

---

A/N: As any other writer out there, I would appreciate reblogs and your comments on this story. Please let me know if you enjoyed it, and most importantly, have fun!

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The Five Stages of Grief

---

“Hey Channie!” You entered his studio with a smile plastered on your face, that soon enough turned into a frown when you noticed your boyfriend of almost 5 years hasn’t even acknowledged your presence.

He tended to do that a lot, especially when working on new comebacks. His whole focus was on that damn computer which you were sure by now was your life-sworn enemy. It’s hard having to compete with a screen to get your boyfriend’s attention, but such was life sometimes, and there was nothing you could do about it.

You knew the risks that came with dating an idol, you just didn’t know how much worse it could be if you were to date a workaholic, perfectionist idol.

This was Chan.

He spent hours and hours and hours cramped in his small studio, perfecting beats, arranging vocals, switching up different rhythms and trying to figure out what could work out and have the most success between his fans.

“Have you eaten?” You asked, kissing his cheek, and only then did he notice you’re there, and pulled out his headphones.

“Oh, hi. Didn’t see you come in.” Was all he said, his face scrunched in concentration. “Did you say something?”

“Just asked if you’ve had dinner yet.”

He must’ve, right? It was well past 11 pm, but one of his bad habits was working himself to death, and more often than not, he would skip meal times entirely simply because he wasn’t good at keeping track of time.

“I had a protein bar earlier.” He shrugged.

“Want me to order you something? Or even better, why don’t we both head home?” You asked with a smile, trying to be convincing enough for your boyfriend.

It usually worked.

He would normally laugh off your attempts to be nice and realise that you’re just trying to take care of him, and he would comply and go home with you for the night, then resume his work the next day.

Once you’d be home, he would crash immediately, proof of how tired he’d been and how much he’d ignored his body’s needs. His sheer determination was scary.

However, none of this happened tonight. He rolled his eyes and muttered a small “There she goes again.”

You played it off, though, realising he probably didn’t mean for you to hear that. Brave on his part, you thought, in such a small quiet studio.

“What is that supposed to mean?” You asked, your tone still friendly, as if you were joking with him.

What you didn’t expect was for him to turn his whole chair towards you, his expression angrier than you’ve ever seen him.

“You heard me. God, it’s so frustrating having you come here all the time bossing me around. Eat! Sleep! Stop working! Can’t you see I’m busy?!” He ranted, pointing towards his computer screen.

“Wow, sorry, Mr. Busy.” You chuckled, despite being slightly angry with his words.

He doesn’t mean them. You told yourself. This is another one of his bad habits: bursting out and speaking cruel words whenever he’s extremely stressed and has tight deadlines. It hadn’t happened often, only a handful of times in your years long relationship, but it hurt nonetheless whenever it did.

“And there you go mocking me.” He rolled his eyes at you. “It’s like you don’t even care about the work I’m doing.”

“It’s not that, Chan. You know how much I value your work, it’s just-”

“Yeah, bullshit.” He laughs. “If you would, you’d stop barging in here demanding things from me when you know I have stuff to do.”

“Hey, I know you had a tough couple of days with the comeback and all, but there’s no need for you to take it out on my like this.” You crossed your arms in front of your chest, this time feeling genuinely upset. It’s like he’s escalating it on purpose.

“No, it’s not just a tough couple of days. Don’t you get it? You do this shit all the time, and I’m frankly sick and tired of it. Can’t you just leave me be for once and stop being so controlling?”

“Controlling?” You asked, baffled. “How am I controlling, huh? By making sure you eat and sleep when you’re supposed to?”

“How do you even know what I’m supposed to do?! You always think you know best, but you never fucking consider any of my needs and wants.”

“Literally everything I do is fucking consider your needs, Chan.” You answered coldly.

“No. You’re just too deep in your head and can’t fucking figure out when to back down, so I’m telling you. Stop telling me what to do and leave me alone if I’m busy. God, I don’t need this shit.”

He mumbled the last sentence and put his headphones back in, turning his attention back to the screen.

Maybe you shouldn’t have done what you did next, but he hurt you, and you didn’t like the way your conversation apparently ended. You wanted to know what he meant, so you grabbed his headphones’ wire and pulled them out of his ears forcefully.

The way he turned to you and the look he threw you almost made your blood freeze, but you were far too upset to care about upsetting him anymore.

“What exactly don’t you need, huh? What is this shit, exactly?!” You gestured with your hands.

“You can’t fucking let it go, can you?” He laughed in a baffled way.

“No, unless you tell me what this shit is.”

“This. Us. Everything. I’m really fucking done with how overbearing you’re being. I was doing fine before I met you, and I sure as hell do just fine without you over my head every fucking minute of the day.”

“Oh, is that so?” You asked, expressionless.

He hurt you, but by his anger still present on his features, you realised it’s all pointless. You’re not going to see eye to eye tonight.

“Do you want to break up?” You let out, the words burning your tongue, and Chan’s eyes widen.

“What? No! Fuck, you twist my words.” He sighs, exasperated. “Just leave. Let’s talk about it tomorrow.”

When he doesn’t say anything else, you let out a shaky breath and watch him put his headphones back in.

“Oh, and this?” He starts, pointing to one end of the headphones. “Never do this shit again.”

You watch silently how he turns his chair to look back at the damn screen, without caring that you’re still there in the room.

The discussion is over.

“I see. Fine. I’ll go.” You let out, tears beginning to spill down your cheeks. He didn’t see them, and it felt like he didn’t even care that he’s made you cry.

You quietly made your way out of the room, your sight too blurry to see anything, and you headed home.

---

Denial

---

Chan’s eyes are beginning to sting painfully, and after rubbing them and checking the time, he figures out why.

It’s way over 5 AM when he decides to finally leave the studio, and although it’s still dark out, the streets are already starting to get filled with people hurrying to whatever painful morning shift they are scheduled for.

It takes him about 20 minutes to get back to your shared apartment, and when he does, nothing seems unusual at first.

The house is expectedly quiet, it being so early in the morning, and he already imagines how deep in sleep you must be by now.

He feels guilty for how he treated you, that he let the anger consume him once again, and he regrets it. He always regrets it when he lets stress get the better of him.

As he heads towards the bathroom to wash the harsh day off his skin, he starts thinking about how he could make it up to you. Should he buy you flowers and bring you breakfast in bed in 4 hours when you’ll most likely get up?

Although he hasn’t slept at all.

Should he take you out on a date after he’s well rested? There was this restaurant you mentioned a couple of times that you wanted to try, but he didn’t have enough time to take you there to eat yet, not with all the planned comebacks and the work that keeps piling up.

Maybe tomorrow is finally the day.

He finishes his shower and rubs his eyes again, and God, how tired he is, just as usual when he pulls out all-nighters. Everything seems ordinary, but as he opens the bedroom door, however, something is unusual.

You are not there.

Confused, he takes out his phone to check for any messages you might’ve sent him, but upon noticing there’s no new notifications, he throws the phone on the bed, screen down, defeated.

Did you really think he wants to break up? Did you finally have enough and left him?

He knows he treated you badly tonight, but he thought it’s just a small drop in an ocean of happiness. Arguments are unavoidable, unfortunately, and he can’t always be the perfectly composed man he’s striving to become.

Would you really leave after a couple of cruel words he didn’t even mean? He starts asking himself as he gets into bed. Surely you know how much he loves and needs you there for him. It was just a bad night, that’s all.

Maybe you just wanted some space, and decided to head to a friend, or to a hotel or something.

He thinks about calling you, but with how late it is – or rather, how early – he knows he’d just disturb you or any of your friends you would’ve gone to if he were to call.

He decides to go to sleep instead and figure it all out tomorrow morning, when his mind is clearer, and when you’ve both had enough time to cool down.

His head is pounding with pain as he opens his eyes and feels multiple pulsations against all sides of his skull.

This is the worst migraine he’s ever had, and he realises how right you were when trying to convince him to go to sleep early. He really needed more sleep.

He grabs his phone to check the time, and when he does, he sees it’s flooding with notifications. His manager called him about a dozen times, starting at 8 AM and continuing up until 15 minutes ago, and he has multiple missed calls and messages from all the members.

Ugh, it’s only 10.

Did I have a schedule I’ve forgotten about? He wonders, rubbing his eyes confused, but checking the date, he knows it’s his day off.

He decides to head to the bathroom and freshen up, while picking up his phone and dialling his manager’s number.

He reaches the bathroom and puts toothpaste on his brush, and by the time the phone rang two times, his manager picks up.

“Chan! Where are you?” He asks, his voice hurried. “Why haven’t you picked up?”

He begins lazily brushing his teeth and checks the date again, and sure enough, it’s his free day. There’s nothing in his schedule.

“Huh? What do you mean?” He asks, his voice still ridden with sleep, still tired from the lack of rest. “It’s my day off.”

“Are you at home?”

“Yes. Where else?”

“Good. That’s… okay. Have you talked to anyone yet?”

“No…? You’re acting weird. What’s going on?”

“Listen, Chan. Something… something bad happened. I need you to sit down for a moment, okay?”

“Okay...?” Chan nods absent-mindedly, continuing to brush his teeth, oblivious about what’s coming.

“Last night… God, I don’t even know how to break this to you, so I’ll just say it. Do note that the company will do its best to assist you and-”

“Cut to the chase. What’s wrong?” Chris asks, starting to get worried. He finishes brushing his teeth, and just as he prepares to put the toothbrush down, his manager’s next words make him drop it to the floor instead.

“Your girlfriend passed away last night. She was hit by a drunk driver on a crosswalk, and although an ambulance got there in less than 2 minutes, she was already… I’m sorry.”

The line falls silent as Chan tries to process what his manager just said. The only sound in the room is made by the toothbrush hitting the bathroom’s white floor tiles.

Chan heard wrong. There’s no other explanation.

“That can’t be.” He dismisses his manager completely. “She was just with me in the studio last night, and then she came-”

Home. But you weren’t home.

“She must’ve gone to a hotel or something.”

“Chan… I’m truly, truly sorry. As I said, we’re going to support you through this tough time with everything we’ve got.”

What tough time? Chan wants to ask but stays silent instead.

He picks the discarded toothbrush from the floor and throws it away. How careless he’s been, dropping it.

He wants to chuckle at his stupidity, and he can’t wait to tell you about it. You’re going to nag him again for being careless and dropping things. This is the 3rd toothbrush he’s changing this month.

“Oh, God! Again?” He can already picture you with an amused expression on your face, your arms crossed. “You’re always dropping stuff on the floor!”

The thought brings the ghost of a smile on his face, and he starts wondering again where you might be. Surely your manager is mistaken.

“Her parents tried getting in touch with you, but they said you didn’t pick up. You should give them a call.” His manager continues to say. “From what they’ve told us, the funeral will be held tomorrow morning. JYPE offered to pay for all expenses. Anyways, this must be too much information to swallow for now, so I’ll come pick you up in 20 minutes and we can go to the company together. The rest of the boys are already here.”

“Okay, see you in 20 minutes.” Chan replies, not really understanding what’s happening.

He ignores the countless missed calls and messages and opens his call history to dial your number instead.

It goes straight to voice mail.

“Hello! You’ve called… wait, am I doing this correctly?”You chuckled, asking him with an unsure look on your face.

“Yes. The beep-”

“Oh, right! Thanks for calling, please leave your message after the beep. Okay, bye~!” You cheerfully said, ending the recording with a small laugh.

“Are you going to keep it like that?” He asked amused.

“Why not? It’s straight to the point!”

“You left my voice in it, though.”

“Oh, does it bother you? I can record again if you want me to.”

“No, no need. I just – isn’t it a bit weird?” He chuckled. “You even forgot to say your name.”

“Whatever.” You waved a dismissive hand in the air. “If they called my number, they know who they’re calling.”

“Fair enough.” He laughed.

‘Hello! You’ve called… wait, am I doing this correctly?

Yes. The beep-

Oh, right! Thanks for calling, please leave your message after the beep. Okay, bye~!’

He chuckles absent-mindedly at the memory of him teaching you how to record a message redirecting your callers to leave a voice mail. You’ve never been good at technology.

“Hi, babe. Can you please call me? I need to talk to you.” He says, deciding to leave a message, even though he isn’t convinced that you’ll get to hear it. You usually forget to check your voice mail.

He tries calling again, just for good measure.

‘Hello! You’ve called… wait, am I doing this correctly?’

Yes. The beep-

Oh, right! Thanks for-‘

And again.

‘Hello! You’ve called… wait, am I doing this correctly’?

Yes. The beep-‘

And again.

‘Hello! You’ve called… wait, am I doing this correctly?’

Yes.’

‘Hello! You’ve called…’

‘Hello!’

He throws his phone on the bed exasperated. Why aren’t you picking up?

You didn’t even come home last night, why is your phone turned off?

Do you want to somehow punish him for being cruel and make him worry?

He shakes his head confused and begins changing his clothes from the comfortable pyjamas to an appropriate enough outfit to go to the company.

It should be a crime to have to go so early in the morning anywhere on your day off.

When he’s done and he looks somewhat presentable, he picks his phone back up and dials your number again.

‘Hello! You’ve called-’

He cancels the call just when he hears a knock on his door, and opening it, his manager is looking at him sombrely.

“Hi.” Chris speaks first, but his manager doesn’t say anything. He just pulls him into a hug that lasts way too long, Chan thinks.

“I’m so sorry for your loss.” He finally says after pulling away.

Chan doesn’t know what to reply, so he opts to just stay silent. His manager’s words don’t register in his head anyway; maybe he’s still tired.

He did go to sleep way too late.

They head to the car, and although the ride to the company only lasts 20 minutes or so, the 20 minutes feel like an eternity.

It’s just as his manager said, and everyone else is already at the company. When he sees the boys, they come rushing to him, their faces tear-stained and their clothes black.

“Oh, Chris…” Felix hugs him tightly and starts crying, and Chan starts comforting him by patting his back a few times.

A few tears escape past his eyes as well by seeing all the boys so gloomy, but he still doesn’t seem to be able to wrap his hand around it.

“Her parents said the wake is taking place at their house, so that’s where we’re headed now. I thought it’s better for you to not go alone.” His manager blurts out.

Chris looks dejected for a few seconds, before taking out his phone again and dialling the familiar number. This time, he types it himself. He knows it by heart.

With a shaky hand, he puts it against his ear and waits to connect.

‘Hello! You’ve called… wait, am I doing this correctly?

Yes. The beep-

Oh, right! Thanks for calling, please leave your message after the beep. Okay, bye~!’

It makes no sense.

You couldn’t possibly… have died.

You are so young. You have so many plans and so many things you still want to do.

He is supposed to apologize to you and pamper you the whole day just to make up to you for being an asshole last night. He is supposed to take you to that restaurant you’ve been bugging him about for weeks.

You can’t possibly be gone, just like that.

Your parents embrace Chris as soon as he steps through the door. They’re sobbing loudly, and there are so many people present – some, he recognises: old friends from middle school you’ve shown him pictures of, some other colleagues from university, some coworkers he had the pleasure of meeting at the last Christmas party held by your company, a few family members…

There are also many people he doesn’t recognise; people your age, and Chan gets reminded once again of how young you are, with your whole life ahead.

He shakes his head once he notices a coffin on the large table in your parents’ living room; the same table you’ve both ate at just two weeks ago when you’ve last visited.

“My baby, Chris is here to see you.” Your mother cries, approaching the coffin and pulling his hand to guide him towards it as well.

It’s closed shut, and on top of it, your picture stares at him with a happy smile. You are so beautiful; he’s always loved this picture of yours. He’s the one who took it, just after you’ve graduated Uni and he handed you a big bouquet of your favourite flowers, rose peonies. You said your eyes wrinkled in a weird way, and never liked it, but he absolutely adored it. It’s been his wall screen ever since.

The coffin is made of dark polished mahogany, and its lid is adorned with golden handles.

You can’t possibly be in there.

Although beautiful, how could such a small coffin hold the large essence of your soul?

It makes no sense whatsoever.

Your parents’ cries seem real enough, though.

He touches the top of the coffin and wonders why it’s closed. Why would it be closed, when you are so gorgeous? People should see you, not a simple picture.

He decides it must be because you’re simply not in it. Or if you are hiding in there, maybe it’s all a joke and you’re going to open it from the inside and yell Surprise!, shocking everyone in the room and making your mother faint. It’s something you’d do.

So, he waits.

He waits, and waits, and waits, and his feet grow tired and his back starts aching after so many hours on his feet. People come and go, paying respects, patting his shoulders and trying to make some small talk, talking about you in past tense.

“She was such a wonderful person.”

“She was so full of life.”

“Her laugh was so intoxicating.”

“Her work ethic was admirable.”

“She was so smart.”

He listens and nods to each of their words. They are right. You are a smart, wonderful person, you are full of life, your laugh is the best thing he’s ever heard. He’s wished more often than not to record it and put it in one of his tracks, but every time he’d mentioned it, you called him silly.

By the time your father brings him a chair and places it next to the coffin so he can sit down instead of standing, it’s already night out.

“You should get some rest, Chris. I’ll stay with her.” He tells him, placing his strong hand on Chan’s shoulder as to attract his attention, but Chan just shakes his head.

How could he go sleep when you might decide any time to wake up?

Would you panic, with the lid closed and all? You’ve always been claustrophobic. Why is it closed, anyway?

It’s already morning when one of your relatives approaches Chris and urges him to get out of the living room to change his clothes.

They’ve brought him a white suit at the request of your father; wedding attire, since you didn’t get the chance to get married before you passed.

He is reluctant to put on the white pants and uncomfortable suit jacket, but he does it anyway. Your mother cries when she sees him, and your father pats his shoulder and thanks him for doing this.

The priest comes, and a lot of your friends visit your home again, to lead you on your last journey, apparently.

It takes the priest about half an hour to finish praying for your soul, and then your coffin is loaded in the back of a hearse. The car moves slow enough for everyone to be able to follow, and Chris is walking right behind it, next to your parents. Felix is behind him with Lee Know and Changbin, and the rest of the boys are somewhere far back. He sticks out like a sore thumb, dressed in all white while everyone else is wearing black.

Each time the car passes next to important places in your life, the hearse stops and people throw coins on the ground. They pass by your kindergarten and your old school, and with each step, your mother cries harder. Your father tries his best to stay composed, but even he bursts into tears when your mother starts talking about your life and what a happy kid you were.

Chris doesn’t shed a tear. He follows the hearse blindly, and when it reaches the cemetery, he watches as his members take out the coffin and place it on the ground next to a large, freshly dug hole.

The priest begins a final prayer, and soon enough, he watches how the coffin disappears inside the hole. People start throwing soil and flowers. He doesn’t know how a couple of roses get in his hands, but he begins throwing them one by one on top of the coffin that keeps getting lowered down.

You’ve never liked roses that much. You like peonies. Why did someone hand him roses?

There is also some music – hymns, or the sorts. Something you wouldn’t like. He doesn’t like it either.

A few moments later, some people begin covering the coffin in dirt, and he watches the scene expressionless. It gets covered fairly quickly. People start crying even harder, and his ears start ringing.

He feels sick to his stomach, so he decides to take a few steps back as soon as the whole gets filled to the brim with the freshly dug soil.

“I can’t believe she’s truly gone. She was so young!” He hears a woman say from somewhere behind him. He doesn’t bother turning his head to check if he knows her or not.

“Right? We were talking just yesterday morning at work about going shopping this weekend.” Another woman replies in a quiet tone.

“They didn’t even open the casket.”

“How could they? Didn’t you hear how she passed?”

“No! What even happened?”

“She was apparently crossing the road and a car came out of nowhere, hitting her with more than 200 km/h. It threw her like 30 metres in the air.”

“Oh my God! I heard it was a car accident, but this…”

“Yeah! It’s insane. There was barely anything left of her… only shattered bones and flesh, nothing resembling a human.”

“Shh, what if someone hears you say that?!” The other woman tried to silence the first one.

After hearing these details, Chris feels even sicker.

He wants to throw up.

“Son, we are going to the reception now. Do you want to come with us in our car?” Your father approaches him, and Chris simply nods.

He hugs him for a few seconds, and then they wait for your mother to come, and the ride to the restaurant is filled with her sobs while your father and Chan remain expressionless.

He sits at a table next to your parents. Felix is on his left, and the rest of the boys and other members of JYPE are sitting nearby.

There is an empty space to his right, and in front of it, the table is full of your favourite foods, snacks and drinks.

His eyes are stuck on that empty seat.

“Wow, they really brought me a lot.” You chuckle, looking at Chris with your head supported by your right hand, your elbow against the table. “How am I supposed to eat all of this?”

He watches the scene stunned.

“What’s wrong, baby? Why the long face?” You ask, the smile on your face wider, raising a hand to caress his cheek.

The next time Chris blinks, you’re gone.

The seat is empty.

The boys insist that Chan comes with them to the dorms, or that at least some of them come home with him.

“It’s not good to be alone.” Hyunjin says sympathetically, and Chris simply shakes his head.

What if you come back home tired and want to rest, but the boys are there visiting? He asks himself. It wouldn’t be fair to you.

So, he goes home alone, after much bargaining with them that he needs some time on his own.

The silence that greets him once he opens the door to your shared apartment is deafening.

He first goes to the bedroom to check if you’re back yet, but the sheets stay as empty as when he woke up two days ago, so he pulls out his phone to dial your number again.

‘Hello! You’ve called… wait, am I doing this correctly?

Yes. The beep-

Oh, right! Thanks for calling, please leave your message after the beep. Okay, bye~!’

The beep sound follows soon after, and he begins talking.

“Babe, I know you’re mad at me. I was wrong. I’m sorry. It’s time to come back home now. Please?”

A second beep follows, signalling that the time to record his message is over, so he ends the call. He ignores the countless notifications piling up on his screen, all the Condolences messages he’s been receiving, and he places the phone in his pocket and starts making the bed.

“Wow, well done, Channie! I’m impressed!” He can almost hear you chuckling, and turns his head towards the door, fully expecting you to be there laughing at him and praising him for doing the bare minimum, but there’s no one there.

Once the bed is made, he heads towards the living room. A half empty glass of water is on the table, its margins stained by your lipstick, next to a plate full of breadcrumbs.

Tsk, how messy. He rolls his eyes, knowing exactly why you haven’t cleaned up. You must’ve eaten in a rush again, this bad habit of yours.

You’re always complaining about stomach aches, but you keep eating on the go while getting ready for work in the morning, and never enjoy your meals.

He takes a picture of the crime scene and opens his phone again, shooting you a text.

“Forgot to clean up?” He asks, then attaches the picture of the plate and glass.

He knows you’ll probably laugh and start excusing yourself once you see it. If he were to check his gallery, half the pictures are surely of the dirty plates you simply forget about on the table.

Chris always washes them, but never fails to remind you of it.

This time, too, he takes the plate and glass to the sink and turns on the hot water. He rubs the plate with a dish sponge with way too much dish soap on it, and he hears your voice in the back of his head again:

“My, Channie! You’re so wasteful! You only need a drop. A single drop!!! What are you using so much dish soap for???”

He starts laughing as he grabs the glass and throws the half-drunk water out, but before washing it, he notices the lipstick stains again. He smiles to himself and sets the glass aside, wiping it off with a napkin, careful to not accidentally remove the stain.

Your lips left such a pretty mark, he doesn’t want to part with it yet, even if you are going to give him an earful later for not washing the glass properly.

When there is nothing else to do around the house, he opens his laptop and starts sorting out his emails. All of their schedules for the month have been cancelled, and their upcoming comeback postponed indefinitely.

He doesn’t think it’s necessary, but at the end of the day, the company’s rules must be followed. You’ve complained about him working too much anyway. Maybe this is the chance for you two to spend a bit more time together.

All he has to do now is wait for you to come back.

He waits.

And waits.

And waits…

Felix visits with Jisung and Seungmin the next day.

And then the next, Jeongin comes with Changbin and Hyunjin.

Minho drops by every morning with enough food to last Chris the whole day.

His manager comes once a week and makes sure to call him daily.

Whenever he’s on the phone, he paces around the empty apartment and looks around. He sees the jewellery you left on the coffee table; your sports shoes are still on the doormat in front of the door, your face creams and serums stay untouched in the bathroom, your hairbrush lays by the sink filled with loose hair, and there’s a half-ironed shirt on the ironing table in the dressing.

You don’t like other people touching your stuff, so he leaves everything just like that, waiting for you to come back and fix it all.

The glass with your lipstick stain on it is still there on the counter, next to the sink.

He’s texted you about a dozen of times since he first messaged you about it and the plate that’s long been washed, but you haven’t replied to a single text. Your phone still goes directly to voicemail, but worst of all… no matter how much he’s waiting…

… you don’t come home, and the apartment stays empty.

‘Hello! You’ve called… wait, am I doing this correctly?

Yes. The beep-

Oh, right! Thanks for calling, please leave your message after the beep. Okay, bye~!’

‘Hello! You’ve called… wait, am I doing this correctly?

Yes. The beep-

Oh, right!’

‘Hello!’

---

Anger

---

It’s been more than a month, but Chris still sets the table for you each time he eats what Lee Know brings him.

He wouldn’t bother eating much, if Minho wouldn’t have insisted to tag along to practically every meal after he noticed that he’s barely touching the food.

He always places one more plate on the table, right in front of him, at your usual spot.

“Just in case she comes back and gets hungry.” He explains to Minho, but he’s had enough of this.

“Hyung…” Lee Know hesitates. “She… she’s not coming back. You know that, right?”

His tone is quiet, and he tries to approach the subject as gently as possible. However, it’s time for him to do something. You’ve died more than five weeks ago, but Chris hasn’t moved any of your belongings, not even to store them.

There’s a box of tampons on the kitchen counter, but he won’t even move that, for fuck’s sake. He keeps waiting for you to come home, as if he doesn’t realise the fact that you’ve passed away.

“No, she will.” Chris says firmly, daring Minho to challenge him more.

“Hyung… She… she died. She’s not coming back.”

“You’re wrong!” Chris shouts all of a sudden, hitting the table with his fist strong enough to make the tableware bounce. He knows Minho is right. After waiting for you for weeks on end without you coming back, after dialling your number about a million times, after sending countless texts with no reply from you… he knows. But…

“Chris…” Lee Know stares empathetically.

“You’re all wrong! She… she’s coming back, goddamit!” He shouts again, this time grabbing the table’s edges and flipping it. The empty plates fall to the ground and shatter in the process, and Minho’s pot spills on the carpet, staining it.

Chris tries to cling to the last bit of hope he has regarding you, but he knows you’re dead. Everyone else was right, and he was wrong. You’re really gone.

“I’m sorry, Hyung. You… you need some help…” Lee Know continues with a shake of his head, bending down to grab the broken pieces of glass.

When he’s done cleaning up the carpet and the floor to the best of his abilities, he takes one more look at Chan. He looks like a ticking bomb, ready to explode again any second now.

Lee Know doesn’t know if it would be good to give Chan space, or if he should insist again that he comes with him to the dorms.

He decides to ask him anyway, and to his surprise, Chris nods and packs a small bag with clothes and hangs it on his shoulder.

They made their way out to Lee Know’s car, and once they’re at the dorms, they say goodbye as each goes to their respective apartments. Chris used to live with 3RACHA and Hyunjin, so that’s where he’s headed.

The dorms are as messy as he remembers, but they bring him comfort nontheless. His old room brings him solace as well.

There are a few pictures or you on the small desk in his room, and he looks at them fondly. You’re smiling beautifully in all of them. It’s the you he remembers. You, at your first date; you, the first time he took you to an amusement park; you, when all your fingers were coated in chocolate after you attempted to bake him a cake.

It’s you.

God, how he misses you.

How dare you leave him alone?

How dare you?

Why didn’t you fucking look to the left before crossing the road? Even if the traffic light was green, you should’ve fucking looked.

You’ve always been careful to look, so why…?!

Watching the pictures no longer makes him happy. It makes him angry, and out of anger, he punches the wall behind the desk with all his strength.

It makes no sense, really, but the pain in his fist takes away from the pain in his heart, so he punches the wall again.

He decides to try and calm down after hitting the wall two more times, and he hops into his old bed, shutting his eyes tight and thinking about the night you died.

‘I’m really fucking done with how overbearing you’re being. I was doing fine before I met you, and I sure as hell do just fine without you over my head every fucking minute of the day.’

Those were some of the last words he’s said to you.

Since you’ve died a few blocks away from the JYPE building, it happened right after you left.

You died thinking he doesn’t love you.

You died thinking he doesn’t need you.

He does.

He needs you.

If only he’d gone home with you that night, as you asked him, you would’ve never died.

It’s his fault.

It’s his fault you’ve died.

He killed you.

He lashed out on you and blamed all his stress on your attempts to take care of him, and he killed you.

Fuck, it’s all his fault.

For the first time since the funeral, he bursts out in tears, and he is unable to stop. It’s like all of his repressed feelings for the past month and a half come biting him right in the ass.

It’s so hard to breathe. He’s getting suffocated.

He can’t.

He can’t breathe anymore.

You’re on top of him, suffocating him.

“You killed me.” You say, blood running down your face.

He can almost feel the drops hitting him, with your face so close to him.

“It’s your fault. “You knew what you were saying. You killed me.” You say again cruelly, and Chris shuts his eyes even tighter.

His cries soon turn to wails, and he’s being loud enough for Changbin to hear him and get alerted. He opens the door without knocking, and upon seeing Chris, his heart breaks.

He just goes to the bed and throws himself on top of Chris, as if to shelter him somehow from the intense grief he’s feeling.

When his cries quiet down, Changbin takes a look at his friend and sees his injuries.

“Holy fuck, your hand is bleeding. Are you okay?” He asks in panic, standing up quickly to grab the first aid kit to bandage his fist.

“It’s all my fucking fault!” Chris screams at the top of his lungs, and his destructive mood comes back. He stands up, wanting to destroy it all. Every damn picture, every fucking thing in this room.

He wants to set it on fire and let it it all to pieces, letting himself burn as well. It’s what he deserves for killing you.

Sure, the drunk driver that hit you was directly responsible for taking your life, but the way he acted that night… nothing would’ve happened if it weren’t for him.

He killed you.

Changbin sees right through his erratic behaviour and anticipates his moves, throwing himself once more at Chris, holding him tight and not letting him move, no matter how much Chris lashes out. He doesn’t let go until his friend calms down again, and even after he does, he decides to camp in the room with him and keep him company.

---

Bargaining

---

It’s been three months, and Chris still has some difficulties accepting that you’re truly gone.

He probably shouldn't be here so soon, but it’s like he has to make sure again that you’re… that you’re dead.

Your parents did a great job with your grave; your gravestone made of marble stands tall , centred right in front of the ground you’re buried deep within, and the intricate designs of sculpted vines and flowers reminds him of you.

Oh, right. Flowers.

Chris remembers he brought a bouquet of pink peonies with him. He’s been holding onto it tightly ever since he bought it and stepped in a taxi to come here, but as soon as he got to your grave, time stopped, he couldn’t breathe anymore, and he forgot about the flowers in his hands.

It’s not like you need any more; there are so many fresh flowers all over and around your grave. Your parents also planted lots on top of the soil above your coffin, decorating your rest place beautifully.

You’ve always said you wanted a garden, and now, you have one: your little space in the uncomfortably large cemetery at the edge of the city.

“My favourite flowers. Aren’t they pretty?” He swears he can hear your voice, and turning to his left side, his breath hitches in his throat, choking him.

There you are, holding the bouquet of pink peonies he bought with a large smile on your face, but just like last time, he blinks, and the bouquet is in his hands, as it’s been the whole time, and you’re nowhere in sight.

A tear rolls down Chan’s cheek. He wishes he would’ve bought you that house and garden you’ve been dreaming of, instead of the convenient apartment in the city centre.

He wishes he would’ve proposed, and that you’d build a little family together. After all, you were his solace in the midst of all the chaos of his life. The sole person bringing him purpose and comfort.

But now you’re gone.

He wishes he wouldn’t have always put his job first. Especially now, as his schedules stay empty due to the company fearing for his well-being, he realises how much free time he could’ve had if only – if only he’d listened to you.

He regrets all those late nights in the studio when he could’ve been home sleeping next to you.

He regrets every breakfast, lunch and dinner he’s missed because he was too busy with making a new song, learning a new dance, or preparing for a new comeback. Now, none of it matters. You’re gone.

He could’ve postponed all of them. He could’ve done so much differently, and he regrets it all.

You’re gone.

He places the peonies in a little vase near your gravestone, next to some daffodils someone must’ve brought you a few days ago.

Then, he raises his gaze and reads the inscription in the headstone’s marble. It’s your favourite poem by Clare Harner.

Good choice, he thinks, as he goes through the lines of Immortality and traces each engraved letter with his fingers.

‘Do not stand by my grave and weep

I am not there, I do not sleep.

I am the thousand winds that blow,

I am the diamond glints in snow.

I am the sunlight on ripened grain,

I am the gentle, autumn rain.

As you awake with morning's hush,

I am the swift, up-flinging rush

Of quiet birds in circling flight.

I am the day transcending night.

Do not stand by my grave, and cry--

I am not there, I did not die.’

You stopped reciting the poem and took a deep breath, looking expectantly at Chan.

“Isn’t this poem beautiful?” You asked him, your eyes sparkling.

“A bit morbid, but yes.” Chris chuckled as he placed the freshly made pasta dish in a large plate and served you dinner.

“Aww, thank you. Smells so good!” You grinned in delight, your eyes closing into crescents, as they always did whenever you smiled brightly.

He couldn’t help but press a quick chaste kiss against your lips before he sat down as well.

“So, pasta master, show me how it’s done.” You encouraged him, nudging his elbow and handing him your fork and spoon.

“Tsk, you’re so spoiled.” Chris tutted jokingly, but complied nonetheless and started twirling the pasta with the fork. Once it became an appropriate bite-sized portion, he raised the fork and supported it with the spoon as he brought the food to your mouth.

“Mmmm, so good!” You exclaimed with a few quick, excited small claps, as soon as you started feeling the flavours.

“Of course, what were you expecting?” Chris chuckled.

“Only the best from you.” She praised, petting his head fondly. “So, about the poem. Do you think it’s good enough for my presentation?”

“For Uni? Yeah, of course. Anything you’d pick is good enough, babe. You have your way with words, and you recited it very beautifully.”

“You think?” You beamed at his words, and he nodded. “Thank you, Channie. I really really like it, but I was afraid it wasn’t appropriate.”

“No, it is. You can use it.”

“If the lyrical genius says so, it must be true.” You stood up briefly and kissed his cheek, before returning to your seat and starting eating the pasta.

God, how many years ago was that?

Chris bursts out crying for the millionth time this month, and grabs the headstone with both his hands, feeling his knees grow weak.

On the brink of collapse, he uses your gravestone for support as he weeps louder.

“Can’t you come back?” He asks, his voice shaking. “Please. Please come back. Please. I… I promise I’ll do better, hm? I promise I’ll no longer stay as late in the studio, so please… please…”

The headstone can’t support him enough when his hands go weak as well, and he falls to his knees right in front of the poem.

“If only – If only I’d left with you that night. If only we hadn’t fought. God… please, please come back. We still have to make up.”

He cries for what feels like hours, and his body grows cold.

“Please… please…” He forces out again. “Come back… come back… we have so much we want to do… come back… I need… I need more time with you, please. Please.”

And he cries again.

And again.

And again, until he feels a hand on his shoulder a while later, and he turns his head around hopeful, thinking you might’ve somehow heard his pleas and returned to him.

His expression falls as he sees Seungmin looking concerned at him, and then he frowns even more noticing the pathetic way he looks in his eyes’ reflection.

Seungmin falls to the ground next to Chan, hugging his side tightly. Then, he helps him stand up and balance on his feet.

Chris is grateful for Stray Kids being there for him, but he just wishes… it would’ve been you standing next to him instead of Seungmin.

---

Depression

---

Chris has never experienced such an intense fatigue before. Every part of his body hurts, and it’s like his muscles are screaming at him each time he stands up. He is lethargic and looks haggard and in desperate need of rest, but rest doesn’t come by too easily as of late.

It’s 5AM and he’s in the studio again, but instead of doing anything productive, like finishing up that song he’s started working on two months ago that he keeps beating himself up for, he watches how beautiful you looked in the picture on his desk.

You used to be so full of life and so gorgeous. Your smile could make anyone happy, and your laugh – God, how much he misses your laugh.

He misses your voice.

Sometimes, he can’t even remember what it sounds like, and he thinks it’s absurd; it hasn’t been that long since you passed. Only about a year. He shouldn’t forget it so soon.

He grabs his phone and manually types the digits to your number. He still hasn’t forgotten it, and with how deep it’s been ingrained in his memory, he doesn’t think he ever will.

‘Hello! You’ve called… wait, am I doing this correctly?

Yes. The beep-

Oh, right! Thanks for calling, please leave your message after the beep. Okay, bye~!’

He hasn’t cried in some time while thinking of you, but now, he’s on the verge of tears again. You used to sound so carefree.

You used to be so happy.

He doesn’t know when he started referring to you in past tense, but as soon as the realisation hits him, he lets a couple of tears stain his cheeks.

Chris is tired. He hasn’t slept in… God knows how many days. He’s always had trouble sleeping, but nowadays, his insomnia has been getting worse and worse. His doctor prescribed him some pills that are supposed to help, but he can’t even be bothered to take them anymore. They don’t help him rest anyway. If he takes them, he wakes up confused, disoriented, and with an even worse headache.

His phone is still in his hand and his finger brushes over his screen. He didn’t have the heart to change his lockscreen picture. It’s still you.

He hasn’t seen you in what feels like years. The first few months when he’d been haunted by your ghost were tough, but now that he hasn’t seen any glimpse of you in months, day to day life is getting harder and harder to navigate.

You don’t even visit him in his dreams anymore, on the seldom nights he sleeps. If he takes the small white pills, he doesn’t dream of anything, and he so desperately wants to see you again, to touch you, that he refuses to take them. That’s the other reason he doesn’t.

Fuck, this is hard.

Are you supposed to feel so devastated after a whole year?

Back then, years passed by so quickly – it meant comeback after comeback, work, work and more work, and time with you was scarce but very appreciated. Time used to fly, and without him knowing how much time passed, you’ve celebrated your 5th anniversary. He was planning to propose to you soon. He was looking at rings, but then you…

Time doesn’t pass by as quickly anymore. This year stretched for so long, it felt like a decade instead of barely 12 months. With each passing month, it was like nothing was changing at all for Chris, but now, looking back, everything feels different.

He’s a completely different person than the one that was staying in the studio up until 5 AM last year, and he blames himself so, so much for his unchanging bad habits.

He blames himself for your death still. It’s his fault, and this thought only makes him more hopeless and more depressed.

He’s lost weight. A lot of it, to the point where the company had to have an ‘intervention’. Whereas last year his body was toned, his abs perfectly sculpted and his form admirable, he now looks like a ghost of himself.

If he eats, his stomach immediately starts hurting. He threw up 3 times this week alone.

Your death still has such a big emotional toll on him, and he’s tried it all. He went to therapy. He still goes four times a week at his company’s requests. He’s on medication that makes him groggy and unable to think, medication that shut down all his feelings – not just the negative ones. He is numb, and when he isn’t, he feels utterly devastated and lost.

What is he supposed to do now, without you?

How come a year has already passed without you by his side? He’s even contradicting himself. Sometimes he feels that the year passed by slowly, and sometimes he looks back and doesn’t understand how he was able to live a whole year without you.

He needs you.

Fuck, he needs you so much, he still can’t believe he even insinuated that horrible night that he didn’t.

Life no longer has any purpose, and everyone around him is growing more concerned by the day, as this once optimistic man has left together with you, leaving in his place only a pessimistic, desperate person.

He realised how badly he wants to die exactly 6 months ago, when your sudden disappearance finally started sinking in for real. When he stopped bargaining with God or with whatever cruel higher power there might be in the sky to let you come back, even if just for 10 minutes, for enough time for him to kiss and hug you and tell you how much he’s missing you.

6 months ago, he started decorating his thighs with unsightly marks, some of them faded, other fresh. He can’t do it anywhere else, no matter how much he’d wished to cut his wrists open, for fear of anyone else noticing.

So, he takes his despair out on his poor thighs, pressing the small blade against his skin until he feels something, anything. Until blood starts pouring down and the shower’s water pools down at his feet completely red.

He winces in pain every time he does it, but at least he feels something different than the numbness that grows bigger and bigger in his heart, consuming everything in its way. His whole soul feels absorbed by it, crushed under the pressure.

On the rare occasions he’s not numb, he feels the immense grief your absence left. He now knows that you’ve not only taught him how to love, but also how it is to lose what you love, and it hurts. It’s excruciating, and his heart is being ripped apart still, each and every time he thinks of you, and your absence is tearing him apart from the inside out.

He is physically sick. His headaches are worse than ever. He can’t sleep. He can’t eat. He can’t do anything anymore. He doesn’t want to, either.

The only thing he wants is to die, but even this wish feels selfish. He sees the way his friends look at him, how they’re walking on eggshells around him, to not somehow mention anything that could trigger a bigger depressive episode than what he’s already going through. He only pushes through it because of them, because he knows how it feels to lose someone you truly love, and he doesn’t want them to have to live with this black hole in their chests.

But… the loneliness he feels is simply merciless. It’s pouring down on him like unyielding unforgiving rain, not showing him any pity, and so he tries to fills his days with something that would make him forget about the gap in his soul.

The company let him come back to work a while ago, but they didn’t plan any comeback for Stray Kids for the time being, nor are they planning any for the near future. He’s grateful they’re giving him time, because he’s in no shape or form ready to do anything, not when he’s withdrawn himself so much from everything he used to love.

It’s difficult to compose any up-beat songs, or any song, for that matter. It used to come naturally for him, but not anymore. Changbin and Jisung are doing their best to support him and make up for his lack of concentration, but it feels like he’s not bringing anything to the table anymore.

He’s missed practice over and over again. The Kids meet up every two days to dance to their older songs, and as they don’t have anything new to work with, they even started learning the dances of other popular songs, or creating choreographies that would fit western music. Chan never went. He stopped dancing 12 months ago, and he hasn’t even stepped in the practice room since you died, not even once.

He hasn’t sung since you died either, and no one said anything about it. No one blamed him at all. Not even his company, who he was sure was going to fire him in the first 6 months after your death.

They said they trust him, and that they’re going to give him as much time as he needs to recover. They talk about him like he’s sick, but he’s not sick. They don’t seem to understand that.

He’s not sick, he’s just devastated, and he doesn’t think he’s ever going to be able to live again, to sing and dance on stage and to work hard, because this is no longer his dream.

He only dreams of death, and the thoughts of it are the only ones bringing him any solace. His therapist said he needs more time, and he quoted Lois Tonkin more times than he can count. He said that life will soon begin to grow bigger around grief, and that the intense sadness he’s feeling is just another expression of love for you. One that is permanent, but that will diminish as time passes and as he starts enjoying life again.

He doesn’t believe any of it, though.

How could he begin to enjoy life again, with you not there by his side?

---

Acceptance

---

He met someone.

For the first time in years, he felt genuine happiness again.

It took him one more year to start reengaging in some of his older hobbies and in his work. He started gradually going to the gym with Changbin and Lee Know, and eventually felt ready to start dancing and singing again. Another year later, he was ready to get back on stage and face all his fans, who’ve thankfully shown an unwavering support of his journey with grief.

He started feeling a bit better, and even though you were on his mind all the time, he was no longer dwelling on the pain of the loss of you. Your memory started bringing him more happiness, and he started looking fondly at all the sweet moments you’ve both shared together.

He started appreciating being able to have met you, to have lived 5 beautiful years next to you, and even though he still feels it is unfair that you’ve been taken away from him so cruelly and way too early, he no longer blames himself.

He still regrets the argument you had on the night you passed away, but he started slowly coming to terms with the fact that there was nothing he could do about it anymore, no way to take his words back. He started accepting that this is the one regret he’s going to have to take to his grave with him.

It took him one more year to start embracing life again, to start looking forward to his future with Stray Kids and to start actively making plans. He realised there was so much more he wanted to accomplish, and his dreams started coming back to him little by little, with the support of his friends and family.

He’s met her two years later.

When it happened, he was still not ready to give love a second chance. He thought it was way too soon, that he was disrespecting you by catching feelings for someone else. He felt like he was emotionally cheating on you.

He decided it’s time to join a support group at the recommendation of his friend, and he’s met a lot of people of all ages: some younger than him, some way older. The way they spoke about their former partners warmed up his heart, and they made him realise that loving again is not an affront to your memory. He can still keep loving you while loving someone else as well. He can still honour your memory.

He opened up to her, and he’s told her all about you. She wanted to know who you were, and she even visited your grave with him, holding his hand and talking to you at your gravestone. She told you she loves him and thanked you for being there for him while you were still alive, for giving him precious memories to hold onto.

She apologized for life being so unfair and taking you away from Chris so abruptly, and she assured you she’s going to take care of him to the best of her abilities.

She was really patient with him. She gave him as much time as he needed to come to terms with his feelings. He let him set the pace on what he was comfortable with doing. The first time they slept together was after more than one year of dating, but she didn’t mind waiting for as long as he felt necessary.

She loved him, and he loved her.

He proposed to her almost two years later, and they welcomed a child one year after their wedding.

He visited your grave on your 10th death anniversary with his son in his stroller, a baby boy he’s given your favourite name. You were still present in his thoughts, and his love for you never subsided.

He now simply has additional people to love and to grow old with, but that doesn’t mean he doesn’t miss you still.

He decided to visit your grave again, even if walking has become a bit too difficult. Still, he manages the way from the car until your grave just fine, even if he has to support himself with a crane.

He is now old enough to be called ‘grandpa’, and not just as a joke between him and his friends. His hands are shaking, and his legs are a bit wobbly; his face is adorned with deep lines and creases, his forehead is wrinkly, and each fine line contributes to his now years-long life and experiences. The skin dropped around his cheeks, but every lady in the nursing home assures him he’s still a handsome man.

Your grave is no longer as tidy and beautifully adorned with fresh flowers. The soil has been overtaken by weeds and is in dear need of cleansing. He hasn’t visited in a while, unfortunately, his health issues making it a tad too hard, and with your parents long gone, there is no one else to take care of your resting place.

He makes a mental note to hire someone to clean it up and plant some flowers, but for the time being, he simply sets the bouquet of rose peonies in the small, chipped vase next to your headstone.

The inscription in the once immaculate marble is no longer as visible, but he doesn’t need to read it in order to recognise Immortality by Clare Harner. He still remembers the poem by heart, and also all sorts of other small, insignificant things, like your old phone number that’s been disconnected decades ago.

He looks at your smiling picture, the one he took when you’ve just graduated from university, and he realises as if for the first time how young you were.

He’s grown old; he has multiple wrinkles, his skin sagged everywhere, and his body went through each transformation it was supposed to when advancing in years.

But you?

You’ve stayed young. You’ve stayed beautiful, cheerful, smiling. Your face stayed clear of any creases.

You’ve remained just as he remembers you.

You are immortal.

“I’m sorry for not coming in a while.” He speaks with a soft smile on his face.

“That’s fine. You are probably very tired.”

He swears he could hear your voice. Maybe the poem is right, and the whispers of the wind transform in your saccharine voice he’s so dearly missed.

“I’m truly sorry for what I’ve said.” He continues, feeling the need to apologize again for his harsh words that night. No matter how many years have passed and how many time he’s already apologised, he’s never forgiven himself.

“But I’ve forgiven you long ago.” The wind whispers, and he closes his eyes and nods his head.

“I still love you. I’ve never stopped loving you. I hope you know that.”

“I know.” The sunlight caresses his back, warming him up as the wind strengthens. “And I’m waiting for you, whenever you’re ready to meet me, my love.”

~The End~

---

(A/N) Obligatory song: 11 minutes by Halsey and YUNGBLUD.

youtube

When my best friend showed me this song, I immediately fell in love with the concept of the music video, that’s based on the five stages of grief. I thought to myself that I simply must write a story like this, but of course, that was months ago and I’ve completely forgotten about it, as I usually do with most random ideas that come to mind that I don’t write down lol.

I couldn’t really sleep for the past few nights, so my mind kept brewing ideas and scenarios to keep me busy and hopefully lull me to sleep.

It didn’t work, because the five stages of grief came to mind and I knew I had to immediately write a story about it and not let the idea go this time, so I got out of bed at like 6:30 am and wrote and wrote on and off for a total of 13 hours, until this 10k words of pure despair have been created.

I hope you enjoyed it even though it probably sent you spiralling into depression. Thank you for reading nonetheless!

Love,

Storm

---

Alternative Ending

---

Chris's head is pounding with pain as he opens his eyes and realises that the place looks eerily familiar.

His neck starts hurting the moment he sits up in his chair, but he doesn’t pay the pain much mind, as he is more confused than ever. He recognises the place as his old studio back when he was still working at JYPE. How many years ago was that? Way too many.

The confusion only intensifies when he looks at his hands and sees them devoid of any wrinkles and dark spots, and he immediately gets alerted. He pinches his skin, as if to see if it would hurt, and the pain comes immediately. If this is a dream, it’s a way too realistic one.

He sees his phone lying on the table and stretches to grab it, and once he unlocks it, the picture of you, his favourite, is staring back at him. He swears he was at the cemetery and saw this exact picture on your gravestone just the other day.

The next wave of confusion comes when he notices the date and time. It’s way past 12PM, and the date is your death anniversary, the same year you passed. Only this time around, his phone is not flooding with notifications. The only unread messages are from you, and you seem worried.

“I can’t believe you didn’t come home last night. Do you really want to break up?”

He shoots up the moment he reads it and stops overthinking, dialling your number instead. If this is really a dream, he’s happy he gets to see you one last time.

“Yes.” You answer, your tone slightly annoyed.

“Babe.” His eyes swell up with tears when he hears your voice.

“What?”

“I love you.” He bursts into crying. “I love you. I’m so, so sorry for what I’ve said last night. I need you more than anything. Where are you? At home?”

“Wow, I was expecting you to apologise, but…” You chuckle briefly. “Yes. Are you coming for lunch?”

“Yeah.” He wipes his tears. “I’m coming. Please wait for me.”

“Of course. Love you.”

“Love you.”

Chris has never run as fast to his car before. He barely sees the roads and even if it’s been decades, he still remembers the drive between your shared former apartment and the studio. He gets back home in 10 minutes, a record, as the drive usually takes him 20 at least.

He types in your old passcode, and as the door opens, you’re there.

You’re there.

He can’t believe it.

You’re there, alive, and breathing. There are no empty plates and half-drunk glasses of water stained by your lipstick on the table. He looks at the sink, and they’re currently drying. You’ve washed them.

There is no box of tampons on the counter, no jewellery on the coffee table. Your hairbrush is clean, your face serums rearranged. The bed is made.

You’ve cleaned up.

“Hey, you okay?” You ask after you follow him erratically moving from room to room.

“I’m… oh, God. Baby, come here.” He comes and hugs you tightly, starting to cry again.

“Hey, what’s wrong?” You frown, a bit taken aback by his behaviour. Sure, you’ve fought, but still.

“How… how did you get home last night?”

“Well, initially I was super upset and wanted to walk back home to clear my mind, but I saw a cab in front of the building and the driver called my name, so I assumed you ordered me one. Didn’t you?”

“I… oh, my God. I can’t believe this.” Chris cries even harder, hugging you tighter, until you eventually pull back, truly concerned.

He starts kissing you, apologising over and over and over, and he’s never felt more grateful.

You’re alive. He’s been given a second chance.

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