#no matter what i draw whether fluff or angst it's still painful how is that

[hellomayu]

if i could do it all over again, i won't let you go.

[therealcocoshady]

Recovery - Chapter 21

Eminem x FemReader Fanfiction

Summary : Em just confessed his feelings to Y/N and is apprehensive of her reaction.

Tags : Fluff - SMUT - Bit of Angst ?

MARSHALL’S POV

Y/N was staring at him with big eyes. It wasn’t clear whether she was displeased, terrified, disgusted or God knows what else. He wasn’t the best at guessing how people were feeling anyway. He had just told her he was in love with her, right after they had sex. To be fair, he hadn’t planned on telling her, especially not at that moment… As seconds were going by, the silence was becoming painfully heavy. And to make matters worse, they were naked. One would have thought that the two of them being nude would have meant that there was some sense of equality in the situation, but given that he had just confessed his love - which was obviously unrequited - he felt even more exposed. If she hadn’t been prone to those nightmares, he would have left, but he couldn’t. Well, he could, but he wouldn’t. Just because she was silently rejecting him didn’t mean that he didn’t care about her wellbeing. 

I’m sorry, he said as he started to get dressed. I… obviously shouldn’t have said that. I’ll go on the couch. Just… Call if you have a nightmare or something, ok ? 

Why did you say that ? She asked, as she pulled the cover over her naked body. 

Because I think orgasms are much better when there’s awkwardness right after, he said sarcastically. 

She kept on staring at him. Now, she looked more sad, and a little mad too. Her mouth was slightly twitching, as if she was about to cry. 

I’m sorry, he said as he pinched the area between his eyes. 

About what ? She said hoarsely. 

About everything, I guess. But mostly for telling you I’m in love with you, he replied. 

He stared at her for a second. Her mouth was slightly open and her eyebrows were furrowed. She really looked as if she was about to cry but, as selfish as it was, he just needed to be in a different room right now, in order to process his emotions. He was feeling a knot in his stomach and was starting to realize that whoever said confessions made you feel lighter was definitely a liar : it felt like he had the biggest weight on his shoulders right now. He mumbled a “Good night” and went through the door. He was in the staircase when the door to her room flew open and she went after him. 

You don’t love me, she said sternly. 

As a matter of fact, I’m very aware that I do, he replied a bit more curtly than he originally intended. 

She was naked and her hair was all messy. Still, in the dim light of the corridor, she looked like an ethereal vision, something you could see in a painting. If he had a pen and paper, he would definitely draw her. Or maybe he would if he didn’t have to deal with a painful rejection. Being turned down was one thing, but being turned down by a naked woman who looked like a goddess was another thing. More painful, in his opinion. Y/N was frowning and had a pout on her face. 

I don’t understand, she said. 

I don’t think I could be any more clear, Y/N, he replied. I am in love with you. Obviously, this is very unilateral and I’m sure you wished I hadn’t said that, but now that the words are out, I don’t plan on taking them back. I know it’s uncomfortable for you, and I am very sorry about that because I did not plan on telling you, but now you know. 

But… Why ? She asked. 

He stared at her in disbelief. Was she actually asking why he was in love with her ? She was absolutely amazing but she needed to take a fucking hint. Didn’t she understand that he needed to be alone with his feelings ? That she was breaking his heart ? In his many years of therapy, he had made some progress when it came to dealing with his emotions, but it was evidently not enough. He was starting to feel anger pending. 

I’m not having this conversation with you right now, he said calmly as he tried to pace himself. Go to sleep, alright ? 

I can’t sleep with what you just told me ! She shrieked. 

And I can’t look at you right now ! He yelled. Can’t you give me one fucking minute, Y/N ? I can’t look at you, all naked, rejecting me. You don’t feel the same and that’s ok. I mean, it fucking sucks, but I’ve been feeling this way for a while, so I’ll deal with it eventually. But I’m not a robot, alright ? 

You should have told me earlier, she whispered. Why didn’t you tell me earlier, Marshall ? 

Because you have a fucking boyfriend, Y/N ! He roared. Because there’s a fucker always taking you on dates and showering you with gifts and affection. Because you keep going on and on and on about him and how great he is. And Hailie, and Talia, and Jamal too. Because I keep getting these stupid pictures of you in our group chat, at sunset, at shows, at fucking pottery classes or God knows what else. Because it hurts me every fucking time and I have to deal with the pain of knowing that the woman I love will never be mine. So excuse me for not setting myself for heartbreak here. If I had been able to help it, I wouldn’t have fucking told you that. You have your lobster and I’m glad he’s great, but don’t expect me to be happy to feel like the tiniest shrimp in the ocean. 

He realized he was screaming at the top of his lungs. He was panting. Y/N’s eyes were glowing with the tears welling up in them. He swallowed dryly and quickly got downstairs, making his way to the garden. It was a cold night, but he could use the fresh air. He enjoyed the darkness and the silence for a second, before Y/N barged in, still naked and barefoot on the grass. 

Go back inside, he said as he stared at her nakedness. 

Shut up ! The only reason there’s a fucker taking me to pottery class is because you are the one who started dating !!! I am the one who’s been in love with you for months and had to keep my mouth shut about it. I was going to tell you in New York, but there was always Paul or security around. And then, there was Nicole. So you don’t get to make this about yourself, Marshall ! You don’t get to say you’re in love with me only to leave the room and say I don’t love you. Because I do ! I love you more than I have ever loved anyone and it hurts like hell !!! She yelled, louder than him. 

You do ?! He asked in disbelief. 

Yes I do. You’re my best friend, you know me better than anyone else, you’re always here when I need you, you are the most attractive man I have ever met, the most talented, too… You’re smart, kind, funny, generous and, oh my God Talia was right, the most dramatic person I have ever met. How could I not fall in love with you ?! She blurted out. 

He stared at her, completely stupefied. He had absolutely no idea. He was at a loss for words, in absolute shock. 

I am yours, Marshall, she whispered. I have been yours since the day we met. 

In the matter of a second, he was all over her, wrapping his hard around her body and kissing her violently, hungrily. She responded passionately. 

Say it again, he ordered. 

I’m yours, Marshall, she repeated. 

I love you, he said softly. I love you so fucking much. 

I love you too, she whispered with tears in her eyes. 

He kissed her tenderly and carried her in his arms, bridal-style, walking back inside of the house. 

I could have walked, she giggled. 

I know. But I’m the most dramatic person you’ve ever met, so I have to live up to the standard, you know ? He replied with a smirk before gently letting her on the living room couch. Although, I think you’re a serious contender for the title. 

I’m not, she chuckled. 

Says the crazy woman who professed her love for me in the garden, at night, NAKED ?! 

They burst out in a fit of laughter. He kissed her again, and again, and again. 

Have I told you I love you, yet ? He mused as he intertwined his fingers with hers. 

Mmmh… I don’t think you have, she giggled. 

Well… I love you, he said softly. 

She giggled and nuzzled his neck. He leaned into her touch. She was his and he was hers - nothing could make him happier. He kissed her temple and took her hand before leading her back to the bedroom. She put some clothes on and they got under the covers, cuddling the shit out of each other. 

I have a confession, she said softly. 

Another one ? He mused. 

Well it’s kind of related. I mean… I sort of… already told you I love you. You just don’t remember, she said as she blushed. 

I think I would remember, he chuckled. 

To be fair, you were sleeping, she explained. We were in the hospital, you were sleeping on the bed and I told you. I think I needed to. 

You’re kidding right ? He burst out laughing. I told you I love you, in the hospital. Before you woke up. 

You didn’t ?! She asked in disbelief. 

I did, he said as he stroked her cheek. When I saw you laying there it just… it hit me like a gut punch. I knew I had feelings for you long before that, but seeing you like this, wondering if you were going to wake up… I had to tell you. Even if you weren’t listening because you weren’t awake, I needed you to hear it. 

His voice was emotional. He was speaking from the heart, and even the simple thought of her in that coma was enough to break his heart. He was upset at the idea of anything happening to her.  

I am so happy you’re ok, he added as he buried his face in the crook of her neck. So happy that you’re here. 

I love you Marshall, she said softly as she ran her fingers in his back. 

For the first time in ages, he allowed himself to be fully relaxed and vulnerable. It didn’t happen too often, especially not when he was with a woman. In his past relationships, especially after his divorce, he had gotten used to being more distant, not showing his emotional side too often. But with Y/N, it came naturally and, even though it was definitely scary, he had to admit it felt good. Eventually, they went to sleep, and he had his most peaceful night in ages. 

Y/N’s POV 

When you woke up, you were in Marshall’s arms. You had fallen asleep whispering sweet “I love you”s to each other. You had to pinch yourself to make sure it wasn’t a dream. You were definitely in a good mood for the rest of the day. It was about noon and Marshall was sleeping soundly, holding you close to his chest. You gently tried to remove his arms but they were so tight around you that it was nearly impossible. 

Don’t even think about leaving this bed, he groaned in his deep (way too sexy) morning voice. 

If you let me get up, I’ll make you pancakes, you whispered in hope it would motivate him. 

If you stay in bed, I’ll make you cum, he replied with a smirk. 

You let out a gasp. You should have gotten used to it, after all this time, but the way he could be so blunt when talking about some things - namely sex - always surprised you, and never failed to make you blush. He let out a giggle and tightened his embrace as his fingers traced circles on your hips. 

What do you say, pretty girl ? He asked. 

I’ll allow it, you said playfully. 

He hummed and slid his hands underneath your tee-shirt, gently cupping and massaging your breasts. The sensation of his cold fingers against your warm skin was delicious and definitely arousing. It was soft and sweet. Or so you thought until you felt him pinching your nipples and sucking on your neck simultaneously. You were still in the spooning position, him behind you, and you could feel how hard he was, which only increased your wetness. You thought you’d stay in this position but your lover obviously had other plans, as he had you lay on the mattress, face in the pillow. He spilled kisses on your neck, going down to your shoulders, your back, your hips… before eventually helping you get rid of your clothes. 

I want to take you, babygirl, he groaned in your ear. Are you ok with that ? 

Yes, you whispered. 

I’ll be gentle, don’t worry, he said before kissing your neck. 

He wasted no time before entering you slowly. As soon as he was inside, you felt complete. It seemed like you were able to feel every inch of him, while becoming aware of areas and spots inside of yourself you didn’t know could be stimulated. Marshall was moving slowly, taking his sweet time and every opportunity to kiss you. 

You feel fucking incredible, my love, he whispered. I love you so much. 

I love you, you said. 

He picked up the pace, causing you to gasp. He immediately stopped moving. 

Are you ok ? 

You feel so big, you whined. 

We can stop, he said reassuringly. 

No, you pleaded. Keep going. I can take it. 

Good girl, he said with a grin. 

You never knew you could enjoy being called a « Good girl » in bed, but something about the way he said it just sent chills to your spine. You wanted to be a good girl for him, to have him praise you for taking him… something in him just called to your submissive side. He started pounding and you clutched at the bedsheets while you let out deep moans. You thought you were close to orgasm when he stopped. 

Don’t stop, you whined. 

Get on top, baby, he said. 

You let out a groan and he softly chuckled as he laid down, taking a good look at you. 

You gotta work for it, he grinned.

You straddled him and lowered yourself onto his shaft, taking all of his length. He laid still, letting you do the work with a satisfied smirk. His hands were wandering around your body, caressing your skin. You let your head fall back as you felt a wave of pleasure coming your way, trying not to lose the rhythm in your hip movements. Marshall ran a hand through your hair and, as you quickened your pace, you could feel his grip tightening. You let out a little cry. 

Sorry, he said softly. Didn’t mean to pull it, baby. 

Do it again, you moaned. 

Oh yeah ? He grinned. 

He gently pulled your hair, causing you to moan again. It felt so good. It wasn’t too painful, it just made you feel like he was in control and you loved it. Your movements were starting to become sloppy and, as much as you wanted to keep going, your thighs weren’t cooperating. He let out a laugh and held your hips tightly before taking control of the situation. He started to quicken the pace and pull your hair at the same time, harder. This had you lose your mind, immediately sending you over the edge. You thought you had reached your apex but he kept going, bringing his hand to your clit to stroke it. You clenched around him and your muscles contracted like never before as you moaned his name. He whimpered and you could feel him twitch inside of you as his release came. You collapsed on top of him, after what was probably the most intense orgasm of your life. You had tears streaming down your cheeks and were shivering. He gently wrapped you in his arms before pulling the cover over your bodies. The two of you dozed off for a minute before being brought back to reality by your phone ringing. You grabbed it and saw Josh’s name on the screen. You froze and kept staring at it. Obviously, you didn’t feel like taking the call when you were naked, in another man’s arms. 

You’re not answering ? Marshall asked, his eyes still closed. 

It’s Josh, you said sheepishly. 

He huffed and opened his eyes, staring at you. The look on his face was indecipherable. He seemed calm, but you could swear his eyes were a shade darker. He was staring intently. And of course, being the coward that you were, you didn’t really want to hold his gaze. It was just starting to dawn on you that you had cheated on your boyfriend. Of course, last night, you knew the person you were kissing and having sex with wasn’t Josh, but at the moment, you didn’t care. Because you were focused on the overwhelming feeling of being with the man you loved. The man who literally haunted your dreams. So, as awful as it was, you didn’t hesitate when it came to kissing him back. You could have. You probably should have. But you didn’t. It was evident that you had to break up with Josh. You had to. In retrospect, it was clear that you’d been lying to yourself long enough. You were starting to come back to earth and it was bittersweet. You had always been so vocal about your distaste for cheating and lying and you weren’t too sure how you were supposed to look at yourself in a mirror. You sighed, feeling as if you were about to cry at the realization that you had turned into a horrible person. 

Y/N ? He asked softly. Are you alright ? 

Not really, you admitted. I mean… I cheated on the most supportive, loving boyfriend I’ve ever had, so… 

Do you regret what happened between us ? He asked carefully. 

I regret cheating, you explained. I don’t regret what happened between us but I regret the way it happened. 

Right, he said. 

There was a brief moment of silence. He gently stroked your shoulder and placed a comforting kiss on it. 

You know, I could lie and tell you I’m sorry, but I’m not, he said. 

Thanks, you said sarcastically. Very comforting. 

Let me speak, honey, he said. I know he is great to you and that, on some levels, he might be better for you than I am. I mean, he’s a corny fucker who doesn’t deserve you, but from what I gathered, he’s good to you, he takes you on great dates, he’s your age and you have a lot in common. It makes sense that you’re sad about it. Hell, I could even understand if you considered staying with him, you know ? Because, some things, I’m never going to be able to give to you. I’m not going to lie : I suck at dating, I’m not able to take you to cool places, I’m not nearly as smart… But I can tell you one thing : he will never love you as much as I do. He will never support you like I do. If you let me, I will do my best to give you everything you deserve, want and need. I swear I will do anything to make you happy. I promise you will not regret it. 

I love you, you said emotionally. 

I love you too, he replied. So… Will you give me a chance ? 

Yes, you said. Of course. I told you, Marshall… I’m yours. 

He cupped your cheek with his hand and smiled softly before pulling you in for a kiss. It was a deep, emotional one. “Mine”, he whispered as your foreheads rested against each other. You rested in his arms for a while, exchanging sweet words. 

I have to go, he sighed. My daughters are coming to my place this afternoon. 

Ok, you said softly. Is it too much if I say I’m going to miss you ? 

Definitely, he chuckled. But I’m going to miss you too, so it’s ok. I’ll see you tonight anyway, for Talia’s birthday party. 

Yeah… About that, you said awkwardly. 

Mmmmh ? He asked, squinting his eyes. 

Josh is going to be there, you know ? Talia invited him, you said. 

Is this the part where I have to specify that I am not big on sharing ? He asked with a raised eyebrow. 

I know, you said. But everyone’s expecting him to be here and you know how Talia is about her birthday… She’s the star of the show. It’d be rude of me to announce my breakup on her big day. 

Makes sense, he sighed. But you’re breaking up with him, right ? 

Yes, you said. But later. 

How late is later ? He asked. 

I don’t know, you said sheepishly. 

He nodded and started to get dressed. The smile on his face had been replaced by a slight frown. 

Are you mad ? You asked. 

Nope, he said. I get it. But I can’t say I’m happy either, you know ? Everytime I see you with him… It hurts a bit. Because I want to be the one holding your hand. I want to be the one kissing you. I want to be with you. I want to be your lobster. 

You’re not my lobster, you chuckled. You’re my whole ocean. 

Your words brought the smile back to his face. He chuckled and kissed you tenderly before leaving. 

MARSHALL’S POV

He couldn’t wipe the smile off his face after leaving Y/N’s place. For the rest of the day, he kept on smiling like an idiot. He thought he was being discreet but he thought wrong. As soon as his daughters arrived, they picked on his good mood. 

What’s making you so happy, Dad ? Alaina asked. 

I’m always happy to see you girls, he shrugged. I don’t get to see the three of you that much without your boyfriends or husbands, these days. 

I don’t believe you, Stevie chortled. You were humming a song. 

Well, Steve, that’s my job, he retorted with a smirk. 

You’re full of shit, she replied.

Language, he playfully warned. 

They had a great afternoon, talking and playing video games. He loved hanging out with his daughters and he was glad it was just the four of them. They had all found great partners and he couldn’t be happier, but sometimes, he missed the days when they all lived together. The house was starting to be a bit empty without them, especially since Stevie moved out. Since then, he had become even more of a workaholic. He had spent so much time dedicating to his role as a Dad that having his youngest move out of the house had taken its toll on him. So everytime he got to spend time with his daughters, he was the happiest person in the world. This time, though, his mind was wandering. He kept on thinking about last night. Y/N loved him. She was his. She had spent a whole night in his arms. Their first night as more than friends. This made him feel like a teenager in love. Usually, he would have mentally slapped himself for being so cheesy, but this time, he didn’t care. He would never admit to being so soft, obviously, but with her, he didn’t care. 

Dad, are you listening ? Hailie asked. 

Of course, he lied. 

What was I saying ? She teased him with a grin. 

Something about your… podcast ? He tried with a smile. 

All three girls burst out in a fit of laughter. Evidently, he had failed the test.

Sorry, he said. Lots on my mind. You were saying ? 

I was asking if everything was alright with Nicole. 

I’m not seeing her anymore, he simply replied. 

Why ? She asked. I thought it was going well. 

Well it was, and she’s great, but I don’t think it’s going to work, he said. Too many schedule conflicts. 

That’s too bad, Alaina said. 

It is what it is, he said with a smile. 

He knew his daughters would be a bit disappointed when he told them he wasn’t seeing Nicole anymore. He usually didn’t discuss his private life with them, but seeing as it was Hailie who had arranged the whole thing, his relationship with Nicole had been a bit of an exception. Ever since they had learned he was dating someone - however new it was - they had been ecstatic. In the past, he had introduced a couple of girlfriends with whom things had become serious, but it had been a while now. He wondered how things would turn out with Y/N, and whether or not he would introduce her to them as his girlfriend. Obviously, they were just getting started and he didn’t want to get ahead of himself, but he had a good feeling about their relationship. His relationship with Kim aside, he had never had such strong feelings for someone before even dating them. This one was special and he knew he had to step up his game and do his best not to fuck it up. 

The evening came and he got to the restaurant where Talia was celebrating her birthday. She was just getting back from her birthday trip with Jamal and had planned a lavish dinner at a fancy place. Everyone from the studio had been invited, as well as many other people. Normally, he would avoid such an event like the plague, but he actually liked Talia. They had become pretty good friends since he started hanging out with Y/N. Plus, he had confirmed his presence as soon as he had learned Y/N would be there - obviously, that was before learning that Josh had been invited as well… As soon as he arrived, Talia engulfed him in a hug and told him he would be seated next to Y/N, who would be between him and Josh. Ironically fitting to the situation. 

When she walked through the door, she was absolutely stunning. Josh was by her side, holding her hand. As she approached to “greet” him, he noticed she wasn’t wearing her sobriety pendant. It had been replaced by another necklace, a dainty gold heart pendant. He tried not to overthink it, but it definitely caught his attention. Josh also came to him and they shook hands. During dinner, he didn’t talk much. He could see Josh being all over Y/N, touching her every chance he would get. He’d been envious of that dude before, of course. Countless times, he had been the one who got to be with her, but he had always managed to keep his feelings in check. This time, however, it was different. Because she was his. And there was no way he would let Josh get away with it. Y/N was talking to Talia, who was in front of her, while Josh was holding her hand. He felt the need to remind her that he was there and that she was his. Just in case she’d forgotten. He made sure no one could spot him and rested his hand on her thigh. God bless tablecloths. He tried his best not to smile when she seemed slightly startled, although she didn’t stop her conversation. He gently started stroking her skin, going under the hem of her dress and he could see her blush slightly. 

Are you alright, Baby ? Josh asked her. 

Sure, she said with a smile. I’m… perfectly fine. 

Josh’s phone started to ring and he stepped outside to answer. She turned to him. 

What are you doing ? She whispered, confused. 

Bathroom. In two minutes, he whispered back before getting up. 

The many guests were busy talking and over-indulging in champagne so they would be most likely not to notice people getting in and out. He went to the bathroom and waited for her. A couple of minutes later, she stepped in, looking flustered. He could not resist the temptation to kiss her. He grabbed her lips passionately, bruisingly. 

Marshall, she whispered. Have you lost your mind ? 

I’ve just about lost my patience, Y/N, he said with a grin. If he touches you one more time, I swear… 

But he’s my boyfriend… 

And you’re mine, he reminded her. 

She looked at him, nervously biting her lip. He pulled her in and buried his face in her neck, teasing her sweet spot and causing her to moan softly. He started sucking on it harder but she stopped him. 

You’re crazy ! It’s going to leave a mark ! 

Maybe that’s what I want, he replied. 

Marshall, she said sternly. 

You better tell him to beat it or I will, he groaned. 

You wouldn’t. 

Want to bet ? He asked with a grin. 

She stared at him with an annoyed expression, but she wasn’t too convincing. He chuckled and kissed her again. 

Don’t try me, baby. Nice necklace, by the way. 

He stepped out of the bathroom and went back to the table. She joined him moments later, pretending as if nothing had happened. Josh came back shortly after and resumed the conversation. The evening went on and, in spite of a few people coming and talking to him, he still focused on Y/N, gazing at her whenever he got the chance. He was about to leave when he caught a conversation between her and Josh. 

You are so beautiful tonight, he said. Would you like to go back to my place and have a sleepover ? I missed you like crazy yesterday… 

I don’t know, she said softly. It’s late and I have work to do… 

I was thinking that maybe we could let Talia and Jamal have some alone time and… have some of our own, he said with a smile. 

He could have been a grown man and let it slide. But he was far too petty. He grabbed a glass of water and pretended to have a sip while he walked past Josh and “accidentally” spilled all over his shirt. 

Sorry man, he said. I didn’t see you there. 

Shi… I mean, it’s fine, Josh said. It happens. 

What can I say ? I’m clumsy, he shrugged. Anyway, I’m leaving. Goodnight. 

Y/N was staring at him in disbelief. She knew him too well and she probably could tell he was being an ass for the sport. He flashed a grin and left. It was probably for the best anyway : if he had to hear Josh mention having “alone time” with her, he would probably trip him down the stairs. He went back to his place. 

About three hours later, he was in bed reading a comic book and about to go to sleep when he heard his doorbell ring. He went to open the door and saw Y/N standing there. She had changed into some leggings and a hoodie and was wearing his pendant again. 

You really are an ass, do you know that ? She asked with a slight grin. 

Good evening to you too, he chuckled. I see you have refined your taste in jewelry again. What do you want ? 

Well I thought you might be interested in knowing that I have just become single, she said. 

You couldn’t be more wrong, he said as he pulled her to him for a deep kiss. You are very much spoken for and I’m going to prove it to you. 

[wonwussy]

Aretha Franklin and Otis Redding

pairing; seungkwan x reader

genre; fluff, angst

notes/warnings; 70's au, talk of death and war, food... i took liberties with laffy taffy and it's creation timeline, since i cannot find an exact year it was created and put out in the world. this isn't a romance. this is part of the 70s;teen collab with svthub

word count; 2400

Three years ago, you last saw your brother. The day he left for boot camp, to join his place in the Army during the Vietnam War. You had hugged him tightly, holding back tears as he told you to be strong, that he would write whenever he had the chance. And all you could do was nod and sniffle into his jacket.

Two years ago, you last heard from him. His final letter arrived at the house, addressed to the family, but you knew the beat up envelope held a special letter just for you. Your letters always contained things he’d never share with your parents, claiming he didn’t want to worry your mother. You still remember the last words he wrote to you. “When I get back, we’re going to listen to all the records I’ve missed.”

One year and ten months ago, your mom stood at the kitchen counter, tears streaming down her cheeks as a telegram sat on the counter. Your breath caught in your chest, ice in your veins. You didn’t dare ask what happened, what she read, but you had to know. You reached her side and picked up the telegram, hands shaking as you read the words. Missing in action.

One year ago, it was official. Another telegram arrived, and any hope of your brother coming home vanished. No body to bury. Your father cursed your brother, your mother cursed your father, and you cursed the war. But none of it mattered. Your brother was gone. Dead.

Today, you stand at the headstone that marks his empty grave. Reading his name, again. His years of life, again. “Beloved son, brother, friend”, again. You draw in a shaky breath and sit on the grass in front of it, fingers twisting around the green blades as you try to come up with words to say to him.

There is so much you want to say to him, to tell him. How you are still angry that he enlisted, how he got himself killed for some stupid war that wasn’t his to fight. How you miss him every day, and how music doesn’t sound the same with him gone. How he hurt your mother, who still cries herself to sleep. How he hardened your father, closed off from the world.

“Fuck you,” is all you manage to get out before a bubble of laughter spills from you. You don’t know why, but you’re laughing. And then you’re laughing harder. Next thing you know, tears are stinging the corners of your eyes, and there’s a stab of pain in your side from laughing so hard. You know you must look certifiable, clutching your side as you laugh on the ground in front of a gravestone.

“Are– are you okay?” you hear someone ask from behind you, sounding a little unsure on whether they should actually be talking to you or not.

You startle in your spot, the small jumpscare only causing you to laugh more. You twist as you wipe your eyes and look up at the man behind you, shaking your head. “No. I mean, yes. No. I’m sorry, I don’t know,” you reply as you force your laughter down, before real tears spill over.

He just quirks an eyebrow at you, looking even more wary of the situation. Coming across someone laughing their ass off in a graveyard wasn’t exactly a situation anyone warned him about. “Okay… well, I’ll just leave you to it then.”

He turns and starts to walk away, and you scramble to your feet. You don’t know why, but you feel like you need to explain yourself to him. You wipe at your cheeks as you follow after him, clearing your throat quietly. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to disturb you. I just… sorry,” you tell him as you reach his side.

You come to a stop as he does, hugging your arms around yourself as he turns to face you. He studies you, head tipping to the side, and smiles a little. “You didn’t. I was finished anyway.” He pauses as he starts walking again. “I should be sorry for interrupting you.”

You couldn’t help but smile when he smiles, and you find yourself following him again. You don’t even know his name, yet you’re going after him. “No, you didn’t. To be honest, I hadn’t even gotten started.”

He simply nods in response, falling silent as you two make your way out of the graveyard. “There’s a diner not far from here, if you want to join me,” he offers once you hit the sidewalk. “They may have terrible coffee, but their burgers are pretty good.”

The offer takes you aback, and you shoot him a funny look. “I don’t even know you, and you’re asking me out?”

“I’m asking if you want to go sit in the same booth at a diner that serves shitty coffee and good burgers, not on a date,” he muses as he stops to face you again. “Boo Seungkwan. And now you know me.”

You’re flabbergasted, and you know you should say no. Name or not, he’s still a stranger. However, you don’t say no. Instead, you nod and cross your arms over your chest. “I guess I could go for some fries,” you answer.

“Alright.” And he was walking again.

You can’t help but smile and fall into step beside him, unsure of what to say. Going with “so, what brings you to the cemetery?” probably wasn’t the best conversation starter. Instead, you both fall silent as you walk, your mind drifting to your brother once again.

It’s almost as if you can hear him whisper in your ear, half teasing and half warning you about going off with some guy you just met. “You think he’s cute, don’t you, Laffy? He seems like a square to me. Though, picking up chicks in the graveyard is kind of strange,” he echoes in your head, and you can’t stop the heat crawling up your neck.

Fingers snap in front of your face, and you blink as your head clears, looking at Seungkwan. He smirks and reaches for the door handle, pulling the door open for you as he steps back. “We’re here,” he announces, causing the heat to spread to your cheeks.

“Right. Sorry,” you mutter as you enter the diner, embarrassment crawling through your veins.

He shrugs as he leads you to a back corner booth, allowing you to pick your side before he slides into the other seat. He smiles at the waitress that hands you two menus, before taking your drink orders. Seungkwan orders a coffee, which surprises you. You could have sworn he said the coffee was bad.

He must notice the look on your face, and laughs as he leans back in the booth. “My friends say I have coffee instead of blood in my veins. Just because I drink coffee… a lot. Though, it’s not as much as they think. I just like the taste, I guess,” he explains, his gaze dropping down to his hands.

You let out a huff of laughter and pull one leg up so your foot is flat on the bench. “My brother would call me Laffy, because I’d eat so many Laffy Taffy’s growing up. I used to have a stash of them in my room, mostly because he’d sneak them to me,” you remember fondly, a half smile tugging at the corner of your mouth. “Haven’t had one in a while though,” you add quietly.

Seungkwan studies you for a moment, before glancing up as the waitress drops off your drinks. You both order quickly, before he is looking back at you, his hands wrapping around the mug of coffee in front of him. “What was your favorite flavor?”

You meet his eyes as you take a sip of your Coke, shrugging one shoulder. “Banana. Or the sparkle cherry. I loved the little hard candy pieces in it. My brother always read the jokes, that are on the wrappers, and thought they were the funniest thing.”

He laughs and rolls his eyes. “They had some really awful ones, if I remember correctly,” he says as he lifts his mug to his lips.

“Oh, they were all bad. But I couldn’t help but laugh with him. His laugh was so… infectious.” You pause as your heart squeezes painfully at the memories, pulling in a shaky breath. “That’s who I was seeing. My brother. He, uh… he was killed. The war,” you explain softly, shifting your focus out the window on the side of your booth.

He did figure as much, when he had caught the name and years on the gravestone you were at. He didn’t want to push or pry, but didn’t expect you to share on your own. “I’m sorry. That must be so hard,” he whispers, resisting the urge to rest his hand over yours. “He sounds like he was a great brother.”

“Yeah, he was. Soon as he could, he enlisted. He said he had to do something,” you recall, rolling your eyes. “He left. No one knew just how bad it was though. He’d write me, and tell me things that they weren’t showing on the news. It was so much worse than anyone could have known. And it wasn’t even our war. One day, he was labeled MIA. We got no details, and I don’t think anyone really looked for him. We just hoped and prayed he’d show up and come home. That he’d walk through the door one day.”

You sniffed and could feel the familiar sting of tears in your eyes. You wiped at your eyes and shook your head, looking back at Seungkwan. “I’m sorry. You don’t want to hear all this. We just met, and I’m giving you the tragedy of my soldier brother that never came home,” you joke weakly.

He doesn’t say anything for a moment as he drinks his coffee, shooting you a tiny smile. “My grandpa served in World War Two. My uncle was in the Korean War. While they physically came home, I think a part of them stayed behind. They don’t talk about what happened over there, but you can see it. In their eyes,” he says with a sigh. “War doesn’t just affect those who serve, it affects those around them.”

The waitress drops off your food as you let Seungkwan’s words roll around in your head, reaching for a fry. He’s right, and you know it. Your own grandfather never talked about his time during World War Two, and you never asked. You just knew it wasn’t something to bring up around him.

The pair of you start in on your food, falling into a comfortable silence with the sounds of the diner settling in around you. You glance up at Seungkwan and study him as he eats, only to look away shyly when he catches you. You’re grateful he doesn’t say anything, though you catch a smirk while he chews on his burger.

You stop mid-chew when a familiar song starts playing over the speakers in the diner, and you can’t help but grin. Otis Redding’s “(Sittin’ On) The Dock of the Bay” is one of your favorite songs, and you remember listening to it for the first time with your brother. “We used to go to the record store, every couple of weeks, and just search for records. We found Otis Redding one day, and never looked back,” you told him with a laugh. “We, of course, had differing opinions on which song was his best. And how… devastated we were when he died in that plane crash.”

He half smiles as he swallows, reaching for a few fries. “I am partial to Aretha Franklin myself. Her cover of “Respect” is, sorry to say, better than Otis’. She made it her own and brought a whole new interpretation to the song,” he states confidently, before biting into the fries.

Scoffing, you shake your head and sit up a little straighter. “No way. Sure, Aretha made it her own, and I respect that. It’s great. But no one can outdo Otis and his original,” you argue. “I think you need to get your ears checked.”

He laughs, and you smile at the sound. You find yourself liking the sound of his laugh, how he looks when he smiles. How good it makes you feel just to be there, discussing music with someone again. You don’t realize it, but a tiny crack in your heart starts to heal.

The meal continues with you two discussing, sometimes heatedly, more music. You tell him about the record store you frequent, he shares where he goes to watch live shows. It’s easy, just to sit and forget for a while, especially with Seungkwan. He doesn’t push where he shouldn’t, never makes you feel uncomfortable. And you enjoy yourself, for the first time in what seems like forever.

Soon, you are both paying for your meals (paying separately, of course, since it’s not a date), and are back out on the sidewalk. “You were right. The burgers were really good. Can’t believe I haven’t been there before,” you say as you both start walking in no particular direction.

“And the coffee never gets better. You think I’d learn not to order it,” he jokes with a laugh. He looks up and stops short, before telling you to wait a moment.

You are confused as he enters a store, and emerges several moments later with a huge grin on his face. “Should I be asking if you’re okay?” you tease, pointing to the drug store name. “Did that coffee get you that bad?”

He shakes his head and folds a piece of candy into your hand. “I thought you’d want some dessert.”

You look down at your hand and blink at the Laffy Taffy there, sparkling cherry flavor. “I–” you start, only to stop as you look back at him. “Thanks,” you finish in a whisper.

“So, what’s the joke?”

You can’t help but grin as you look down at the wrapper to read it, rolling your eyes at what’s printed. “Why did the orange lose the race?”

“Why?”

“Because it ran out of juice.”

“That’s terrible! Who is writing these jokes? I think I should go ask for a refund,” Seungkwan says with a roll of his eyes, though he is laughing.

His laugh that you can get used to hearing. You hope you can keep hanging out with him, keep some kind of relationship with him. “I’m y/n, by the way. Now you know my name.”

[wearywinchester]

Back To You

Dean Winchester x Reader

Summary: When putting yourself in danger for the sake of saving Dean leaves you lost in the woods, Dean is less than thrilled until he finally finds you again.

Word Count: 2.9k

Warnings: angst, injury, mentions of blood, swearing, comfort, fluff

Dean was livid in that moment, and rightfully so. Any and every hunt has the potential to be dangerous no matter what it is, no matter how many times you’ve hunted that very same kind of monster. Each and every hunt is different and someone is always bound to get hurt, whether it be the hunter or the person you’re there to save.

That idea was something he could handle, something he could prepare himself for. But he was never ready when that person was you.

You’d gone and done it this time. You went and spiked his worry, his fear, sent it sky high all for the sake of saving him. To him, nothing was worth losing you, especially not himself. The fact that he was worth enough to someone to risk their own life just to keep him safe was laughable to him, especially when it was you who held him in such a high regard.

Of course you did. He didn’t give himself enough credit, he didn’t give himself any credit at all. There was no one who hated Dean Winchester more than he did himself, and that very feeling was something that boiled over that hunt.

Two werewolves. Three hunters against two werewolves seemed like something you could handle. Take that and add it to the fact that you’re in the woods in late fall and it becomes more difficult. Somehow, some way they got the upper hand on the three of you, targeting Dean. Maybe they knew he was a sweet spot to the two of you, maybe it was just dumb luck, but their efforts seemed to work out for them.

There was no way you’d let them do anything to Dean, not if you were there to do something about it and that’s exactly what you did. Against Dean’s wishes you shoved him out of the way before they could, the swipe of her claws grazing across your cheek instead of his. It wasn’t as deep as it probably would have been, but it stung nevertheless. But that was only the very start of Dean’s nightmare, because you’d gone and lured her away before he could stop you.

He knew you. He knew you were strong and he knew you could hold your own, but this isn’t some run of the mill vampire or a phony spirit. It was a werewolf with more than enough of an appetite and twice the strength.

Now here you were, stranded in the woods all by yourself with a dull and bloodied silver blade and a limp in your stride, your ankle strained from tripping in the midst of your fight with fangs and claws. You held your own, you took care of her yourself with more than enough of a struggle on her end. But you had no idea where you were and which direction was the right one, no clue at all just how far you were from Sam and Dean. You didn’t know if that other werewolf got away and came to finish you off.

All you had was yourself and a dead phone, and your own two fists.

It was getting darker out, the cold fall day turning colder now that nightfall was just around the corner. The drizzling rain didn’t help your cause, muddying the path you tried to follow as you navigated through tall trees and fallen leaves. They crunched every time you took a step, the sound near deafening in contrast to the quiet of the woods.

You were too afraid to call out for Dean, didn’t want to draw attention to yourself should it still be lurking. You were an easy target at this point—you were tired and you were weak.

Of all the hunts you’d been on, you can’t remember feeling quite so bad as this one. The scratches on your face burned and ached, the dirt that was surely smeared across it doing nothing to help as you tried your hardest not to touch your cheek. Your ankle throbbed with every step, the pressure placed upon it nearly pushing you to tears as you walked along as quickly as you could, hoping more than anything that you weren’t leading yourself further away from them, further away from Dean.

You knew he’d be mad, you knew he’d be absolutely livid when he finds you. If he finds you. That very thought weighed heavy on your mind and made your stomach twist in knots and swirl with nausea. There was a very real possibility that they wouldn’t, your battery was dead and it was getting all the more dark outside and you knew what your chances were but you tried not to think about it. You tried but it stayed in the back of your mind and tried desperately to push to the front of it.

He’d be pissed, he would and you knew it because putting your own life on the line for the sake of saving his was never something he’d want you of all people to do. You wouldn’t be surprised if he asked you to stop hunting with them, and the thought alone made a pang run through your heart.

You shook your head to rid yourself of the thought, brows furrowed as you took a deep breath. You’d hunted a myriad of different monsters, more than you can count and certainly a terrifying array of them. They were deadly and they were scary, they were dangerous and they were cruel but you couldn’t help the fear that settled within you now the sky was nearly completely dark. The lack of moonlight had worked against you, nearly impossible to see more than a few feet ahead of you amongst dozens and dozens of trees. Every gust of wind, every noise, everything.

You were scared.

You didn’t dare use your flashlight, too scared to cast attention upon yourself and you found it impossible for anything out there to not be able to spot you. You felt like you stuck out like a sore thumb with the way you heard your heartbeat in your ears louder than ever. Or the way your breaths were shaky and labored and unable to be controlled.

The rain that drizzled a little heavier over you was beginning to seep through your clothes, chilling any exposed skin and wetting your hair almost completely by this point. You were sure it’d be worse if there weren’t any trees, but then again you didn’t get so lucky.

You couldn’t help but remind yourself how utterly on your own you were, body stiff as you walked along in the mud. The mere sound of a stick snapping in the near distance had you on edge, tears welling in your eyes as you weighed over the options of your fate in your mind in a taunting loop of negativity and fear.

Your lip quivered and your hands shook, clutching tight to your bag as you looked all around you. Tears mixed with rain to the point where you couldn’t even tell if you’d been crying real tears if it weren’t for the pressure behind your eyes and the ache you felt from trying to suppress them. You weren’t going to bother trying to act tough in that moment, there was no need when it was just you.

It wasn’t until then that you heard that voice, the gruffness of that ever familiar voice in an echo of your name. Your heart flipped in your chest and at first you thought you might have just imagined it, might have just thought you heard it amongst the rain, but it sounds again.

“Dean?” You said softly, disbelief in your voice before you raised it. “Dean!”

You picked up your pace in his direction, glancing over your shoulder cautiously. The tears rolled faster and your heart rate spiked, that fear in your mind lessening a fraction at the sound of his voice even if it was still not as close as you’d like.

You overlooked the pain in your ankle no matter how much it hurt, too distracted with finding your way back to Sam and Dean. The sooner you found them the sooner you could get out of those woods, and the sooner you could get cleaned up in a place much kinder on the eyes than tree after tree in a rain-dampened and dark area.

It felt like something straight out of a movie and you were waiting for the antagonist to pop out in front of you, waiting to be preyed upon by some big scary monster and you knew that wasn’t so far out of the question for you. Not with the life you had.

The distinct sound of sticks snapping and leaves crunching behind you was unmissable, unmistakable as you tensed. You swallowed thickly at the slosh of the footfalls behind you, heart hammering nearly too loud to hear anything else. It wasn’t until you felt a hand grab your elbow that you screamed once more, expecting to hear Dean call out from farther away at the sound of it. You screamed and you turned around, eyes wide with fear.

“Sweetheart, it’s me. It’s Dean,” he rushed, voice calmer than you expected.

It took you a moment for you to realize, for your eyes to bounce over his face and for the fear to settle and your frown was inevitable as you fought your tears.

In a matter of seconds you wrapped your arms around him, face hidden against his chest and you didn’t care how much it hurt the scratches adorning your cheek. That tension you held loosened considerably in his embrace, and it’s something he didn’t fail to notice. You missed the way his brows furrowed as his chin rested atop your head or the purse in his lips, the way he squeezed his eyes shut or the look of relief he gave Sam with traces of worry and anger within it.

He found you now, and you were safe.

You were quiet as you stood at the small bathroom counter, leaned over the edge a little as you cleaned around the scratches on your cheek. You were proving to do an awful job and you could see it by the look on Dean’s face when he walked in the bathroom. He could see the way you winced even from where he stood by the bed of the motel room, he saw it and he knew you hated doing it.

“C’mon,” he said, patting the counter a couple times.

“I got it, Dean,” you say softly, the sharp gasp you take in immediately after doing nothing to help you.

You sigh as you drop the dampened cotton ball in his palm, hopping up on the counter. You saw the dimples by the corners of his mouth and you saw the crease between his brows, telling of just how discontent he truly was and it had you biting the inside of your other cheek.

He was quick to clean it up with a light hand, careful not to hurt you as his other hand settled on your cheek to hold you still. You could feel the tension in the small room, could cut it with a knife, and it wasn’t going to go away any time soon so long as none of you said anything.

You tried to think about the way his breath fanned over your face instead, soft and warm in the pattern of his breathing as he cleaned you up with all the gentleness in the world. Gentle and tender despite the frustration simmering in the pit of his stomach, threatening to spill.

Actually, it did.

“We gonna talk about what happened today?” He asked, voice quiet and tone angry as his brow raised a fraction.

“Wasn’t planning on it,” you mumble, averting your gaze as you turned your head, only for him to redirect it back as he finished what he was doing.

“‘Course not,” he said, breathing out a huff through his nose.

You roll your eyes and hop down from the counter, hearing his sigh as he tossed the dirtied cotton ball in the trash along with the others you’d gone through, his lips pressing together momentarily as he followed behind you into the room.

You still weren’t over it, you were still shaken despite this being your own fault. It was your fault and you knew that, you were the one playing hero and while you didn’t regret it for a second, you were still on the verge of tears. You were still cold and upset and still reaping the consequences of your decision by the pain on your face and in your ankle.

“Yeah, ‘course not,” you say, tightening his flannel around your shoulders before digging around in your duffel bag.

It didn’t last very long as he grabbed your hand and spun you around to face him, his displeasure more than evident.

“Please don’t try and save me, sweetheart, I’m not—”

“What, you’re not worth it?” You say, watching his lips purse deeper. “You might think that about yourself but I never will, and you’re just going to have to deal with it.”

“You nearly died, Y/n. Do you understand that?” He says, voice a little louder now. “You almost died out there all by yourself. How the hell am I supposed to live with that? How easy do you think it’d be for me to go on every damn day knowing you died just to save my ass?”

You were quiet for a moment as you looked up at him, brows knitted together. “Well, I’m not dead, Dean. So I guess you don’t have to.”

He scoffed as he threw his hands up, letting one fall back to his side as the other pinches the bridge of his freckled nose for a moment or two. He hates how you’re brushing this off, hates how you don’t know just how much of a wreck he was. Sam had never seen his brother so distraught, had never seen him so turned upside down the moment you were lost. It tore him to shreds, tore him apart from the inside out until he found you and that feeling still won’t stop. It won’t stop because he knows this won’t be the last time you do it.

“I’m not worth it, alright? I’m not worth layin’ six feet under, sweetheart. And not by the hands of some freakin’ werewolf either,” he says, frustrated as ever.

Your brows furrow deeper, frown tugs down deeper as you look at him.

“You think you’re the only one that gets to protect people? You think you’re the only one that gets to save someone? Is that what you think, Dean?”

“Y/n—”

“You might not give a damn about yourself, in fact, I know you don’t give a crap,” you say, your finger poking into his chest. “But I do. I care.”

You hated the way your voice faltered and the way your lip wobbled under the pressure of your tears, hated the way those very tears glossed over your eyes, ready to fall with a mere blink. He saw it, he saw it all and he pulled you close before you could crumble completely.

His hand ran over your head, hair still rain dampened and he could feel just how cold you still were. He could feel the way you shook, no matter how faint it was. You could act tough all you want, but he knew you were hurting and he knew when to shut up. You were stronger than he’d ever be, that’s how he always saw you and always will. But you fall apart sometimes and he’ll pick up the pieces without hesitation every single time. Every time.

“I’m here, sweetheart. I’m still here,” he murmured, words soft against your skin as he kissed your forehead.

You nod against him then, sniffling softly. You take a little while for your tears to die down, a little while of the soft sways of his embrace and it’s one that’s near bone crushing, of the way his thumb brushed back and forth against your shoulder blade, or the way his stubble felt brushing against your forehead.

It took a little while until you pulled back a bit, looking up at him with that look that turns his heart to mush every single time you give it. He sees those scratches on your face and he’s biting his tongue, fighting the anger that’s beginning to bubble up once more. Not at you, but at that werewolf that was two seconds from tearing his sweetheart to shreds. The thought made him furious but he pushed it down for your sake.

You lean on your toes and kiss him softly, one that lingered as his hand settled on your cheek. He kissed you once, twice, three times more as his nose bumps against your own, foreheads pressed against one another as your hand presses lightly around the back of his neck, your thumb brushing along his jaw. It set him at ease, you know it did.

“I’m not goin’ anywhere either,” you murmur, feeling his nod against you, felt his hum against your lips before he kisses you again. You knew he wouldn’t let it go that easily, knew it for a fact, but he’d bring it up some other day.

He’d always find you, you could count on it—he’d always find his way back to you.

—

Tags: @flamencodiva @stixnstripesworld @elegantbutedgy @humanmistakes @campingmonkey @agalliasi @deandaydreaming @lanea-1 @akshi8278 @kidd3ath @taikawho

[chateautae]

maybe i do | kth. III

➵ summary :  maybe you love each other, maybe you don’t. when a deal between your fathers leaves you forcefully wedding kim taehyung, arguably seoul’s most powerful CEO, you’re prepared for a loveless marriage of eternal regret and unhappiness. but maybe, it doesn’t turn out that way after all.

↳  part of the high-class series!

➵ pairing : taehyung x reader

➵ genre :  arranged marriage!au, ceo!tae, s2l!au, eventual smut, fluff, angst

➵ rating : 18+

➵ word count : 17k (im sorry omg)

➵ warnings : oh boi we have aNgSt, serious familial issues, swearing, multiple fight scenes, mainly verbal but there is a slap in one, mentions of a wound, mentions of alcohol, (there’s honestly a lot that goes wrong in this chapter but at least tae and the reader have each other), sexual tension :o, bit of possessive!tae, (i mention a short reader a lot but i just wanted to say you’re beautiful even if you’re tall! tae is just very tall to me askldjs)  

➵ a/n: i’m back and hoLY is this chapter loaded (and a lil unedited forgive me!!) i’ve finally finished school and get a whole month off now! who knows what works i’ll release in that time 👀. as always, feedback is appreciated loves!

chapter three : “the window opened one time with you and me”

prev. ↞ || ↠ next  ||  masterlist

“Mother?” You stood frozen, completely and utterly shocked as to how your mother was just opposite of you, smiling brightly as if she hadn’t done a single thing wrong in her life and loved you unconditionally.

How incredibly wrong that was. 

“Y/N! How are you? Oh dear, it’s been so long!” Your mother threw her arms around your neck, pulling you against her for a hug you just barely returned. 

“Good. You?” 

“Oh, I’m great!” She beamed.

“What are you doing here?” You inquired, shutting the door after her entry.

“Ah, I just couldn’t believe my daughter’s married now, I wanted to drop by and say congratulations!” Your mother cheered, grinning widely as she began scanning the grand interior of your house, leering as though you weren’t standing just before her.

“Drop by? You could’ve just came to the wedding, Mother...” You suggested despondently, plastering a pained smile onto your face. You attempted to meet her eyes, though they rather seemed to sparkle at anything that appeared expensive.

Anything but you. 

“Oh, I was in Ibiza. I couldn’t just leave while my resort pass still had benefits on it, you know me.” She flashed you a cheeky smile as she playfully hit you, propping her heels off.

You nodded half heartedly, trying extremely hard to not lose it on her because you were in your home; a place meant for peace and comfort and didn’t have room for negative.

Not to mention, Taehyung resided just upstairs in his study with most likely his door open, and you didn’t want to risk bothering him if you raised your voice. 

“Ibiza was more important than your own daughter’s wedding, huh?” You spoke to yourself, nodding in a manner that would somehow help you accept the sad fact, though instead called forth a feeling you should’ve grown accustomed to by now.

Disappointment.

She knew about the wedding, you knew your father informed her of the ceremony along with its date and time. Though as she audaciously ogled the embellishments of your front foyer and spoke to you carelessly, she practically screamed she gave 0 fucks about your wedding. That what really mattered to her was living out the full experience of an expensive vacation than attending a life-changing night for her daughter. 

Typical. 

“Oh, c’mon now. When you put it like that it makes me seem so bad.” Your mother pouted like a child. “It wasn’t a real marriage, anyway.” She waved off the conversation as she ventured further into the house, bold enough to strike another conversation . “My God, this is the house of the Kim Taehyung?” Your mother’s eyebrows shot up, drinking in the grand size and wealthy look of the home. “You got very lucky, Y/N.” 

You cocked an eyebrow, incredulous of what she was insinuating. “What do you mean, Mother?” 

“Y/N, you’re married to Kim Taehyung. Do you understand how fantastic that is? For you?” Your mother was on the verge of scoffing, smoothing over her dress as she looked elsewhere. “He’s an incredibly rich man, and considering that life of yours it’s a miracle he ever agreed to marry you.” Your mother relayed nonchalantly as she caught sight of an exquisite vase. 

And there it was, the belittling. You’d mentioned before you were often disparaged and received numerous insults when anything concerned your status as the runaway heiress. But what you failed to mention was the person who claimed the #1 position as your largest and most incessant hater. 

Your mother. 

“Mother, it doesn’t matter to me whether a man is rich or not.” You countered, trying to quell your snippy tone but it was as grand a fail your mother was at being a mother. 

“What do you mean?” 

“Unlike you, I’m not obsessed with my husband’s money.” You almost spat with crossed arms, only this comment causing her to turn towards you. 

“Excuse me? I’m your mother, watch your tone a little.” She scolded quite lightly, before returning to inspect a painting. 

You scoffed, “My mother...” you repeated under your breath, rolling your eyes. 

“No mumbling, Y/N. Speak up.”

“I said it’s funny you’re referring to yourself as my mother.” You voiced clearer.

“And why is that so funny?” You could visibly see your mother failing to control her temper with you, masking it all behind a fake smile she mastered ages ago. 

“Because you’ve been anything but a mother.” You retorted, knowing exactly what this conversation was leading into. 

An argument.

“And you’ve been daughter of the year?” Your mother countered, sarcastic tone cutting the air, and it only made you more irritated. 

“Here we go again, the bad daughter narrative.” You scoffed. “Find something new to argue, will you?” You narrowed your eyes.

“And you believe your bad mother narrative is any better?” She sneered back. “I’ve even come to visit you yet this it how you’re treating me. When will you ever learn to be grateful?”

“Please, you chose a vacation over your own daughter’s wedding.” You held a hand up, gesturing against her audacity. “And when have I ever been ungrateful? I don’t remember biting the hand that fed me.” 

“No, Y/N, you didn’t bite the hand that fed you, you completely neglected and abandoned it.” She claimed, drawing closer towards your direction. “You left this family to pursue your own selfish desires. You’re the very definition of ungrateful.” 

“Excuse me? Definition?” 

“Yes, definition. You threw everything your father worked so hard for away. All he ever wanted was to provide his family with a comfortable life, but you instead wasted his efforts and made everyone's lives so much harder. Do you really think I’ll forgive you for what you did to your older brother?” Your mother voiced in an accusatory tone, bringing up an age old argument you knew was going to ravage any peace between you two. 

“That was not my fault, he was already due for the same thing in Korea, it doesn’t matter if he’s in the U.S now.” You argued back. 

“It’s all your fault! You’re the reason Yoongi hasn’t been able to come home in years! You ruined his entire life by making him uproot and take over the U.S faction when it was your role. Your decision to leave forced him into it!” 

“So you’d rather have my life uprooted and ruined than your precious son’s?”

“Because my son isn’t like you! He isn’t selfish at all, Yoonie is a hard-working man who’s always listened to me and your father, always rightfully prioritized the company. But you? You’ve only ever made things worse. You’re completely useless, all you do is tear this family apart. Your father has to pick up your work, you keep your brother out of this country and give me years worth of stress!” Your mother shouted louder than she should’ve, angry as her eyes revealed searing frustration, contempt. 

You were trying to negate the hurt you felt by her words, having trained yourself to endure their sharp sting, though no matter how many times you heard them, it never made it any easier. 

“Oh please, your favouritism is showing, mother.” You remarked with near tears, her disregard for you so disturbingly apparent it left your eyes watering. 

“Yoongi has always loved his work and the company, but I never have. When will you understand that? If I’ve ruined our family so much why have I never heard these same words from Dad or Yoongi? They’ve always supported me, understood and loved me regardless of what life I chose. Why can’t you do the same? Why can’t you just try to understand me for once?” 

“Because there’s nothing to understand. You’re an heiress to this family, you are meant to live for this company and this company only. You owe your father and I your life, nothing has ever been yours. The least you could do to pay us back is by rightfully working at the company and not being as much of a disappointment as you are now.” You mother’s tone was strict and resolute, utterly fed up with you.

“Cry me a river, mother. I don't owe you a single thing. You’re one to talk about working alongside Dad and the company, all you’ve ever done is use his money without a single care for his work.” 

“Excuse me?” 

“You heard me, Mother, all you do is use Dad for his money. You know next to nothing about business or the company and have the least amount of right to lecture me about it. At least I’m not a woman who mooches off somebody and lives recklessly!” You snapped back at her with tears just pooling your lash line, arms crossed tightly holding your chest where it felt your heart would collapse.  

“Do you understand who you’re talking to? Speak with respect, Y/N, I am your mother.” She tried to finalize, but you weren’t having any of it. 

“And I could care less. You’ve never once done anything to warrant that title. All you’ve ever done is travel the world and bathe in the luxuries your husband affords you without ever being there for me or Yoongi. It was always dad despite being so busy, it was never you. You weren't even there for my wedding, when I needed my mother the most. No, you’re someone who’d rather use your rich husband and forget he’s a person.” Your voice was shaking at this point, practically rattling. “You may not have been there for my wedding, but I would never do that to my husband.” You let everything out without a care at the point, flooding the tense air. 

Your mother seemed to completely lose it at this, her tone scarily still as she gritted through her teeth. “You wouldn’t do that to your husband, really? Isn’t that exactly what you’re doing right now?” 

You flashed her an incredulous look. “Pardon?”

“You’re married to one of the richest men in Seoul, and you think you’re not doing the same thing? Whose house do you live in? Whose food do you eat? Whose lavish lifestyle do you now get to relish in? It’s all your husband’s, not yours.” Your mother was practically spitting venom at this point, scoffing. “I must say, your quest for independence is interesting, having landed you in the exact same place you always berated me for. Look where you are now, mooching off your rich husband.” 

If words could dagger you in the heart and looks could kill, you’d surely be 6 ft. under by now.

Years, years you’ve been stuck in this constant loop of back and fourth with your mother, arguing the same 5 things you could never see eye-to-eye on. And no matter what she said, no matter the insults, the belittling, the verbal abuse she always spat your way; you’d grown used to it. Her words became normal, second nature to you and so you easily drowned them out. Her insults became useless weapons you simply dodged and avoided. 

But this, this was where your mother won. 

Her words dawned a laughable sense of irony on you, nearly physically reeling as though someone had punched you in the gut at the realization. It was raw agony, the very prospect you’d spent the entirety of this ordeal evading. 

To think the same independence you fought so gravely for, can so easily be erased and forgotten all due to marrying a rich CEO. It felt pathetic, unfair you had no choice but to marry Taehyung. It wasn’t his fault he was rich, neither was it yours. 

It was just coincidence, pure and utter coincidence. But to think this very coincidence would be the reason your stomach is churning and self-worth is collapsing; it was fucking unfortunate, miserable. 

“Leave my house, this instance.” There was no emotion in your voice, it was flat, vision clouded.

“What did you say to me?” 

“I said get out!” You yelled, the shrill in your voice evidence of tears. “I don’t ever want to see you again!” 

“Don’t you dare raise your voice at me! I’m your mother!” 

“You’re not my mother at all, you’re the worst excuse of one. Leave my house!” 

“It’s not your house, Y/N! It’s your husband’s, and you will end up living the same life as me, using your husband for his money!” Your mother had somehow made her way over to you, having the audacity to push you back by your arms, driving her point home by the act of aggression. 

You gritted through your teeth, eyes teary. “I’ll never be like you, I’ll never be a cheap woman who only stays with a man for his money. A woman who probably cheats on her husband with wealthy men in other countries!”

This was the moment your mother gasped scandalously, becoming so irate she didn’t hesitate to raise her hand and slap you across the face. 

You stood emotionless, not even having the capacity to feel shocked or in pain due to how normal this was. There wasn’t a single unfamiliar thing about the sting of her hand, the way her manicured nails scratched against your skin and worse, the way her wedding ring usually cut into your cheek to produce a small wound. 

It was all too familiar, making you scoff as if this was exactly what you expected from her, exactly what you've always known. 

“You still hit your grown daughter, huh? The last 10 years of it weren’t enough?” You endured the ache, swallowing back tears. You weren’t letting them spill, not at this. 

Not at something as undeserving as your mother. 

“You give reasons to, Y/N.” Your mother simply crossed her arms and looked away, showing the slightest hint of shame though never allowing it to leak into the proud and egotistical persona she assumed around you. 

A suffocating silence pierced the air, looming for some time until you spoke. 

“Leave this house, mother. I beg of you.” You pleaded, not out of desperation, though out of sheer tiredness. Tiredness of the same argument and the same insults you always directed each other, tired of the same outcomes that only ever lead to more bitterness tainting your relationship. “Don’t make this any worse, we’ve probably disturbed Taehyung upstairs.” 

Your mother looked at you with lightly raised eyebrows, inquiring. “He’s home?” 

You nodded faintly. “Yeah, so leave.” 

“Am I not allowed to meet him?” Your mother seemed offended. 

“No, you’re not.” You stated firmly, not caring about the sliver of respect you thought you had for her and instantly pushing her towards your front entrance, nabbing her shoes along the way. 

“What are you-” She didn’t even get to finish her sentence before you swung the front door open, guiding her outside and shoving her shoes in her hands. 

She was about to retort until you shut the door on her, locking it. You leaned against the wood as you heard her protests, not minding her calls as you allowed your constrained tears to finally stream down your face. 

It was too much, she was too much. 

Why could your mother never see eye-to-eye with you? Why couldn’t she be a normal mother? Why couldn’t she be supportive? All she ever did was preach how useless you were, how selfish and ungrateful your very existence was.

Of course someone like her could never understand, never understand the value of autonomy and achieving something for yourself; she’s never once done anything along those lines in her entire life. 

Her words ran deeper today than they ever have, sending a stifling feeling to swarm your chest, your self-esteem and everything alike collapsing along with your pride.

It hurt, it really did. To hear those words from the very woman meant to love you so dearly, so unconditionally only exacerbated the pain. It made you jealous of every child you was gifted with a kind mother, not daring to curse anyone for it but simply feel it was unfair. Even Taehyung had such a warm and loving mother. 

Maybe that’s why Taehyung was so warm. 

Taehyung. 

You realized you were out in the open shedding tears where he could possibly see you, trying to silence the sobs that escaped your lips. You only failed, agony tightening your chest and growing more painful the more you held it all in. So you clutched your hand to your mouth and made straight for the kitchen sink, running the water loudly enough to drown out the sounds of you candidly crying. 

Your cheek still stung, your heart ached and your mind spun endlessly, all while trying to desperately rid yourself of the worthless feeling inside you. 

And it didn’t work. 

Taehyung had been working, scrolling through his laptop as he diligently reviewed status reports, only to have a notification brighten his phone screen. He flashed his occupied vision towards it and caught sight of his security system alerting him of his front door. 

He grew curious knowing the housekeepers were shopping for groceries at this hour, causing him to tap the notification and display the camera feed of his front porch. He was welcomed by a woman he’s never seen, peaking his curiosity. 

He almost rose from his seat until he saw the woman turn towards the door in accordance with you opening it, assuming you most likely knew her as she smiled brightly and ventured comfortably into the home. 

Taehyung shrugged it off and returned to his tedious reading, staring at the practically blurring lines of text until he eventually began hearing raised voices from downstairs, his ajar doors and grand home producing an echoing effect that reached his study. 

Taehyung cocked an eyebrow as he grew slightly worried, discerning it didn’t sound like a friendly conversation. He abandoned his work and made towards the doors of his study, peaking towards the direction of his stair railings that overlooked the first floor of his home. 

More of the conversation became apparent, and Taehyung instantly identified it sounded more like a negatively charged argument than a conversation. His eyebrows furrowed the more he listened, knowing it was bad manners to eavesdrop though finding himself doing so anyways. 

“You heard me, Mother, all you do is use Dad’s money. You know next to nothing about business or the company...” Taehyung’s eyebrows shot to the sky, realizing you were speaking to your mother; the same woman you explicitly expressed was to be avoided at all costs and even winced at the mention of. 

He couldn’t forget that from the first time he met you. 

“...Speak with respect, Y/N, I am your mother. ” The crudeness in your mother’s voice was already indicative of your ill relationship, the harshness sounding like second nature. 

Taehyung grimaced. 

“...All you’ve ever done is travel the world and bathe in the luxuries your husband affords you without ever being there for me or Yoongi...” Yoongi? As in your brother, Min Yoongi? Taehyung only loosely recalled Min Yoongi lived and worked in the States, where he headed your father’s lucrative faction there.

He’d only met the mellow, though diligent man a couple times before.

“...I would never do that to my husband.” Despite the intense situation, Taehyung felt the slightest tinge of pride hearing you refer to him as your husband.  

“You wouldn’t do that to your husband? Isn’t that exactly what you’re doing right now?” 

Oh fuck, Taehyung thought. This isn’t going anywhere good. 

“You’re married to one of the richest men in Seoul, and you think you’re not doing the same thing? Whose house do you live in? Whose food do you eat?...”

Fuck, fuck, fuck. 

Taehyung became alarmed, silently drawing his index finger and thumb over his lips in frustration. You didn’t need to hear this, it was complete bullshit. Your situation with him was different, it was forced and coerced. Taehyung could tell you were someone who truly didn't favour using someone else’s money, and knew you were trying your damn hardest to adjust to the idea itself having to spend your life with him. 

He rushed out into the hallway where he began pacing, trying his hardest to contain himself and hope that you wouldn’t take your mother’s words to heart. Was this why you were so adamant about the fucking card? Because you had to hear shit like this from your mother? 

This was only going to undo the work he’d successfully laid out, thinking it would erase any convincing he had done about his money and what’s his is yours. This was bad news, he didn’t want you thinking any of your mother’s words were true. 

They simply weren’t. 

“Leave my house, this instance.”

“What did you say to me?”

“I said get out! I don’t ever want to see you again!”

Taehyung was becoming anxious, the argument was clearly escalating and he felt uneasy, an incessant feeling bothering his chest. 

There it was again, that same sense of protection he felt when he saw you practically shaking talking to that Kisoo guy. He didn't understand why it manifested, or why he felt it so emphatically. All he knew was after hearing the way your voice nearly cracked, unstable and troubled as you grew more emotional, he felt the strong feeling to oddly.. rescue you? 

It’s like he wanted to bolt down the stairs, physically stand in between the argument and force your mother out of the house, all while trying to persuade you what she said wasn't true. 

Why did he feel this way? This was none of his damn business, had absolutely nothing to do with him yet if it weren't for half the mind he had, he could’ve found himself racing down the stairs to defend you.

Taehyung shivered at the thought, shaking it off.

“... you will end up living the same life as me, using your husband for his money!”

“I’ll never be like you, I’ll never be a cheap woman who only stays with a man for his money. A woman who probably cheats...”

And not long after he heard the slap, evidently hard and painful in just it’s sound. Taehyung immediately froze in his tracks, halting his pacing as worry blossomed in his chest. He prodded over to hide against the edge of the wall that connected to his staircase, able to peak at the sight of both you and your mother stood before the front foyer. 

Taehyung felt pissed within seconds, again unable to decipher why he felt the need to protect you. Though what he did know was that he felt bothered, never wanted anyone to hurt you and he hated the very thought of it. 

Maybe it was because of his considerate personality again, or maybe it really was because of you. 

What made Taehyung grow even angrier, though, was the way you reacted, listening to you dub this as something that happened often, and he was uber pissed now. 

You didn’t fucking deserve that at all. 

It took him no time to understand your apprehension and natural disliking for your mother, wanting himself to never have to converse with her. He would most likely be rude and curt, replaying the same vile words she really had the nerve to say to her own daughter. Scratch that, his wife. 

Yeah, Taehyung thought. My wife shouldn’t be treated like this. 

He knew it was wrong, impolite of him to assume and judge a person so openly based on their cover, though Taehyung could tell these were your mother’s true colours, and any other persona she assumed would only be a farce. 

Taehyung watched as you simply shoved your mother out of the house, shutting the door only to lean against it and allow the tears you’d hidden to fall down your cheeks. Taehyung turned his back and leaned against the wall, concealing himself to give you privacy. 

He knew it was already rude to have eavesdropped, even ruder to look on at such a vulnerable moment. It was rude because he wouldn’t even be able to comfort you, only watch as a dumb-founded bystander; rendered useless because it wasn’t his place to console you.

He knew nothing about you.

He really didn’t know your situation, the relationship you had with your mother. He couldn’t step on your toes and give you advice as if he knew you, nor supply you with words that would make you feel better; contemplating he’d possibly never be able to. 

He wasn’t your remedy, he wasn’t your muse, just a man you were forced to marry and now have to live with. A man who stripped you of your independence, ruined your life all just by his mere existence.

 And so Taehyung found even more reasons to not rush to you, simply leave you on your own knowing he was partly the reason for your pain, your suffering. That your mother only said such things because of him, that she only insulted you because of him. 

So he found himself retreating, walking carefully back to his study to mind his own business and continue his work, complete it as though nothing happened. 

But as each step seemed to grow longer, heavier, he found himself unable to retreat. Unable to function knowing you were probably hurting, unable to ignore you and so blatantly turn his back on you. 

So in a hasty, irrational decision, Taehyung found himself turning on his heel and rushing towards the staircase. 

You continued to sob quietly, thinking if you just let it all out now, cried just about hard enough all the sorrow would leave your body. So that’s what you did, bit your lips to contain the aching feeling in your chest as your throat seemed to constrict, swallowing all your feelings down in an attempt to poorly control them. 

You were in your own world, the sink’s water masking any noise behind you, and so when somebody’s hand reached out to rest against your shoulder, you were completely startled. You jumped, quickly shutting the water in a flash and refusing to look back at the culprit to save your pride. 

Whoever it was, they couldn’t see you like this. 

Though when you heard his dulcet, deep voice calling your name, you knew exactly who it was.

“Y/N?”

You straightened yourself up, breathing out the emotions ravaging your chest and stabilizing your voice to address him. “Hey, Taehyung. What um.. what are you doing here?” 

Taehyung could hear your solemn attempt to cover everything up, feeling your sense of embarrassment practically fill the air. 

“Nothing, just.. wanted to see you.” Taehyung said, unsure of how to approach this.

“You’re probably busy. You should go back to work.” You tried hard to sound okay while you practically swallowed back tears, clutching the counter of the sink.

“It’s alright, not important.” Taehyung waved it off, letting his hard remain on your shoulder seeing you didn’t reject him. A beat of silence lingered until he spoke again.

“Can you look at me, Y/N?” There was no pressure in his voice, just the same soft consideration you’d heard at the hotel suite a couple nights ago.

And you hated it, hated that it made you want to give in, want to so easily follow his request and bare to him whatever he wanted.

Until your last braincell kicked in. 

“I’m sorry, Taehyung. I’m really sorry if I interrupted your work. Please go back to your study.” You voiced just barely above a shaky tone, trying your absolute hardest to sound just fine, seem okay. But the more Taehyung spoke, the more you felt your defense mechanisms slowly coming undone.

And you knew he knew.

“I wasn't interrupted.” He stated normally, his voice natural and yet he sounded so.. comforting? He was simply responding to you and yet his voice and presence seemed to soothe the sharp ache in your chest. 

It was fucking poetic. 

“I’m sure I did, Taehyung. Just please, return to your work.” 

“I don’t need to, Y/N, I can stay here.” He was firm as he stood behind you, measly hand against your shoulder and his usually intimidating, towering figure reassuring.

It was odd.

“You shouldn’t. Just go back, Taehyung.” You attempted to voice with more strength, trying to blink tears away and it didn’t convince Taehyung in the slightest.

“I don’t want to. Look at me first.” His voice sounded calm, and it was really like honey. Thick yet sweet, so deep and yet it’s cadence harboured the ability to put anyone at ease.

You shut your eyes tightly, wiping at them hastily to rid any tears as you sniffled and turned around. You were met by his face that slightly softened at the sight of you, eyes seeming to melt as they swirled with consideration, different from his usually unreadable expression. 

“See, I’m fine. You can go back to work.” You plastered a smile on, trying to stand a little more confidently, though Taehyung didn’t budge. 

He only remained, gazing at the features of your face as he seemed to drape his own with a small sense of sadness, like he was upset, maybe even hurt? It was slight, though identifiable. It left you quite speechless, thinking it was all just part of your imagination.

It couldn’t be real.  

But it exactly was as Taehyung’s large hand came up to gently touch the cheek your mother slapped. You didn’t realize it hurt more than it should’ve when you felt a sharp sting at his touch, wincing.

You registered there was probably a visible mark and grew too vulnerable, downright embarrassed for your liking and so you deflected him, smacking his hand away from your face as you looked off to the side. 

“I’m fine, Taehyung.” You declared, and Taehyung didn’t know how to react as his hand came off you, feeling a bit disheartened. He simply wanted to help, and he didn’t want to leave without doing so.

So he still looked at you, eyes possibly growing sympathetic though it could’ve been a figment of your imagination again.

“You didn’t deserve that.” He voiced soft in sound, though resolute in nature.

Taehyung was having trouble choosing what he could say without overstepping, invading a part of you he probably shouldn’t. 

“I didn’t ask for a pity party, Taehyung. Go back to work.” You said with a more snippy tone than you planned, though found it befitting of your current emotions nonetheless. 

“I’m not pitying. I’m..” Taehyung struggled for a word until you answered. 

“What, caring?” You scoffed, “Please, Taehyung, you don’t have to care like my real husband, it’s only on paper-”

“But I am your real husband.” Taehyung emphasized, his serious eyes meeting yours. “It’s on paper and in real life, so I think I’m allowed to care.” Taehyung retorted with narrowed eyes finding he liked that sentence, liked what it had to convey because it was damn true. 

Taehyung decided on reaching for your arms to drive his point home, though watched as you again, naturally retracted from him. You still seemed to refuse him, didn’t see him in a good enough light to not cower away. 

And he still fucking hated it. 

Taehyung went for it anyway and gripped your arms when you began to draw away, catching you. The action nearly demanded you look into his eyes, and found yourself doing exactly so. 

“Y/N, first, don’t be scared of me, please?” His eyes grew soft. “I seriously-I really hate it. I would never..” Taehyung trailed as his vision fell to the side of your face, eyes seeming to reflect concern.

You were completely surprised, watching him unmask a plethora of emotion you didn't think he’d so candidly reveal.

Taehyung brought his hand to brush your slightly swollen cheek, continuing. “I would never do this, do anything to scare you. I just wouldn’t.” Taehyung was emphatic and genuine, gently touching the fresh wound on the apple of your cheek.

“I.. know that, Taehyung.” You again felt that same urge to touch his hand that touched you, but you decided against it. “Though I don’t need your pity. This doesn’t hurt, don’t break a sweat about it, please.” You were trying to turn away from his hold but Taehyung didn’t let go, maintaining you in his hands.

“It’s not pity, Y/N. It’s sympathy. This bothers me, okay?”

“I don’t need it. I’ve got myself-” 

“But you’re not alone.” Taehyung suddenly stated seriously, tone permeating the air and you just about froze. You only looked at him with furrowed eyebrows, trying to decipher what he was trying to say.

“You’re not.. alone, okay? You have me.” He spoke as though he was trying to convey a meaningful message, trying to mark his own words. “In whatever way... you have me.” It was a hesitant claim, but it felt just like when he’d made his promise to you at the altar. 

And suddenly you found yourself giving in, sighing as you registered this was all pretty much an elaborate reflection of the lesson you learned not so long ago.  You and Taehyung are married now, and no matter how that status manifested itself, you had to accept what came with it.

Especially if it meant him.

“Okay.” You replied simply, multiple emotions masked by the plain word. 

Taehyung looked at you a little surprised you’d actually accepted that, but broke into a genuine grin you hadn’t really seen before. 

And you really did like the way he smiled.

He made you want to smile too, though as your facial muscles worked for the grin your cheek stung, wincing as a result. Taehyung exclaimed within a matter of seconds. “Ah, don’t move.” He cautioned, smiling a little when you chuckled at his overreaction. “Don’t worry, Taehyung. It’s alright.” 

“Alright, my foot.” Taehyung joked, bending down to inspect your wound closer than you expected, and you hid the feeling that shot through you because of his proximity with a nervous laugh, causing you to wince again. 

“Hey, what did I say?” Taehyung chastised you lightly, lips in a straight line as he shook his head disapprovingly. “C’mon, let’s treat this.” 

You immediately whined, feeling too lazy to get something so small and insignificant treated. “Taehyung, it’s not even that bad, why?” You pouted. 

“Cause it’ll leave a mark on your pretty face.” Taehyung smiled innocently, not even caring about the effect it left on you as he found your hand and tugged you along to the second floor. Your eyes only remained widened, never letting up the surprise that took you. 

Did he just call you pretty? 

You let Taehyung lead you to your master bathroom, where he situated you by the counter and shuffled around for his first-aid kit. He finally retrieved the box, dabbing some alcohol onto a cotton swab and bringing it to your face. 

Taehyung just about performed the action until he began struggling bending to your height, wanting to carefully apply the alcohol. So he tried different angles and maneuvered himself around, all coming up useless. “God, why do you have to be so small?” Taehyung huffed under his breath as he stood to his full height, contemplating how he’d accomplish this. 

“I’m not small, you’re just really-” You were about to complete your sentence until Taehyung’s hands suddenly grabbed your waist, lifting you in a single breath and propping you up onto the bathroom counter. You would’ve exclaimed, maybe protest though believed it would’ve made the heat in your face so much more apparent.

“That’s better.” He grinned, biting back a chuckle at your flushed face and widened eyes.  

Those fucking eyes. 

Taehyung then found it easier to apply what he needed, cleaning up the wound precariously before dabbing on some ointment to avoid any scarring, only missing a bandage to place on your cheek. Taehyung searched for one in his kit and drawers, though came up empty-handed. He became puzzled as to where he put his bandages, placing his hands in his pockets to think until he felt the familiar scratch of a wrapper.

He furrowed his eyebrows at first until he figured exactly what it was. 

And he suppressed a stupid grin. 

Taehyung pulled out the wrapper and watched as you avoided eye contact with him, cheeks still clearly warm as you swung your legs on the counter in anticipation of him.

Cute, he thought.

He ripped the wrapper, chucking the garbage aside as he drew close to your face. His breath suddenly fanned you, mere inches from your face with his lips so proximal you were stupidly remembering your kiss from a couple days ago.

He was just so close. So close that you could actually discern he had this pretty little mole on his cheek, even one just underneath his eye, lining his lash line. You smiled realizing he had such unique details, even seeing he had a mono-lid and a double eyelid. Then came his obvious features, his plushy, pink lips, his chocolate eyes, his soft hair and sculpted face structure. It made you want to hide your own face out of near insecurity.

He was just so beautiful.

You watched him as he focused on you, trying to calm down your oddly racing heart, feeling the sensation of his closeness shoot through your body. He smoothed the bandage over your cheek and drew away far too earlier than you wanted.

“There. Apply something before putting a bandage on, right?” He cocked an eyebrow and looked at you knowingly, crossing his arms. 

You immediately smiled at the sentiment, realizing it’s the same line you said to him during your first exchange, and you felt your heart just slightly, slightly flutter at the thought he remembered.

“Right.”

It had been a week since that incident.

Taehyung and yourself had assumed your regular lives, having to drudge back to work after a few days off.

Your mother’s words still lingered around in your head, spoiling your mood here and there though assuming the ever-so healthy manner of simply pushing the mentally detrimental thoughts away, distracting yourself with work. 

You wish you could detail anymore interactions with Taehyung, though they were scarce with how rarely you saw each other. You both either just missed each other, were too busy to pay attention or simply came home too late. Even sleeping together was hit or miss, usually either of you crawling into bed earlier than the other with no real exchanges.

You could say it made you feel just a little sad, though not entirely considering you two were genuinely busy people, Taehyung an even busier person.

That all came to a full stop though one Friday morning, you were seated by the island and staring at your most recent design for a building, iPad pen twirling in hand. You were sipping on coffee when Taehyung pulled out a chair and suddenly startled you, coffee almost spilling.

“Jheez,” you huffed, “you scared me.” 

“Sorry, you were just really focused.” Taehyung apologized as he placed his own iPad down, reading away.

It’d been like this the whole week, you either designing and leading projects at your own job with Taehyung the ever-busy CEO at his own company, causing you both to often sit in each other’s presence though never take your eyes off your screens.

“Hey, I wanted to tell you something.” Taehyung suddenly perked up, stopping his scrolling. 

“Hm?” You looked up. 

“I should’ve told you this sooner, but we have to attend a gala tonight.” Taehyung grimaced at how sudden this seemed, arms crossed as he leaned on the counter.

Did the action really have to make his biceps pop?

Anyway, you were nearly spitting out your drink for the umpteenth time because of Taehyung, eyes blown out at his abrupt news. 

“Wh-what did you just say? Tonight?”

“Yeah, one of friends’ companies. 25th anniversary since establishment.” Taehyung went to bite a piece of his toast with strawberry jam.

You noticed he liked strawberries and didn’t like bread crust, making you want to smile sometimes at the child-like charm he hid underneath his intimidating persona. “They’re holding a huge gala and he’s one of my best friends, we’ll have to attend.”

You eventually came to understanding him, trying to wrap your head around having to suddenly attend such a high-end event. 

“This event is also going to be our first public appearance together. It’s important.” Taehyung stressed, back to scrolling through his iPad. 

“That’s alright. I don’t mind going, it’s just...I don’t think I even have a dress for a gala.” You mentally sifted through your own wardrobe, coming up short once you realized you haven’t been to an extravagant event like that since you were a teenager.

“I know, I bought one for you.”

You should really stop drinking beverages around Taehyung because you can never seem to keep them in your damn mouth. “You bought one? Taehyung..” You whined. “What did I say about giving me things?” 

“Hey, what did I say about giving you things?” He scolded you lightly. “I give you things simply because I want to.”  

You pouted. “Still, you don’t even know my size, when did you even have time?”

“That doesn’t matter. It’ll fit you, don’t worry.” Taehyung sent a smile as he deflected your question and returned to his iPad, not wanting to reveal that he’d secretly referred to your other dresses in your shared closet for your correct measurements.

“But it probably wasted your time. I should’ve gone out and bought it myself.” You felt guilty, realizing it probably made him compromise his work.

“It wasn’t a waste of time.” Taehyung countered, not really liking how you considered yourself not worthy of spending time on.

“I- thank you.” You blurted out before his statement could effect you. “When does the event begin?”

“7. You should try getting off work early to get ready.” Taehyung suggested, sipping his tea as he looked at you.

“Oh God, I’m gonna have to doll myself up. I haven’t done that in ages.” You held a hand to your mouth, trying to digest the fact you’d probably have to look like a trophy wife. 

“I could get you a makeup artist and hair stylist.” Taehyung offered. 

“No, it’s okay. I think I’ll be fine. I just haven’t been to a gala in a long time.” You felt surprised about the fact yourself. “I’m gonna have to meet so many people.” 

“You will, but I’ll be there.” Taehyung assured, glancing up at you.

“Of course, but you won’t be with me the entire night. I’ll have to brush up on my rich people skills.” You blew a raspberry, knowing you had great interpersonal skills but just didn’t like acting so fake all the time. 

“I won’t leave, just stick with me the whole night.” Taehyung stated as he absentmindedly held his index finger to his lips reading an email, quite goddamn illegally if you had to say so yourself. 

“I will.” You confirmed, erasing at a line on your iPad. “Will you come home early too?”

Taehyung clicked his tongue disappointingly. “I will but just barely on time. Friday’s mean meetings for me, so I can’t leave early. I’ll get ready at work, come back inside the house to get you.”

“Okay.” You’re not sure why you felt suddenly sad he wouldn’t be home earlier. Maybe it was just the usual feeling of not wanting to be alone, because God forbid you actually started getting used to Taehyung’s presence. 

Taehyung rose from his seat and cast his iPad to the side, sliding on his suit jacket as he glanced at his watch, checking the time. You noticed yourself and flashed your vision to your iPad, gawking at the time and realizing you could be late. 

“Oh shit, I have to go.” 

“Me too, I’ll see you tonight, okay?” Taehyung confirmed as he made his way to the front door, fixing his sleeve. You propped off your own seat and began walking towards the stairs, just about ascending until Taehyung suddenly called your name. 

“Y/N!” He peeked out from the front door, seconds from leaving. 

“Yes?” 

“I hope you like the colour, it’s one of my favourites.” Taehyung smiled sweetly, sending his last farewell before he dashed out of the house. 

Your eyebrows shot up and practically gawked, immediately running up the stairs thinking of where to find this dress. He had to have hidden it from you considering he’s been doing so ever since he mysteriously bought it. 

You instinctively rushed into your shared bedroom to grab a scrunchy for the day, all distracted until you caught sight of a white box adorned with a black bow sitting atop your bed. 

Your eyes went wide just reading the infamous label. 

Chanel. 

You had to physically keep from flooring yourself, in disbelief he’d purchased you a Chanel dress. You were even more fearful to uncover it, the information of him buying it himself raking your brain. 

It was even his favourite colour, nearly swooning at the fact he chose for you to wear his favourite colour. So you made your way over to the box hesitantly, untying the ribbon and casting the lid aside cautiously, only to audibly gasp. 

Your eyes fell to a ruby red dress with a delicate V neckline, completely blown away he chose such a bold colour for you to wear. 

You carefully grabbed the dress to take it out of its box, revealing more to discover it was a floor-length gown. It produced a small train though lifted in the front to reveal the shoes you’d wear, the skirt of plain, thick fabric until you saw the torso area; light beading expanding from the stomach area eventually leading into the skirt. 

Shock wasn’t even the correct word to use, you were stunned, completely taken by his choice. The dress was simply gorgeous, beautiful in its own right and you were almost too afraid to wear it. 

Nonetheless, this event was important to Taehyung, so you took a deep breath, tucked the dress back into its box and mentally prepared yourself for the day ahead. 

It was bordering 6:30 now. 

You’d successfully left work early, around the 2 o’clock mark to come home and indulge in a 4 hour self-care routine. It’d seriously been too long since you last attended an event similar to this, grand in size and visited by at least a hundred people. 

It reminded you of your engagement party, though not entirely since there would paparazzi and would be your first real appearance with Taehyung ever since your wedding. 

And quite frankly, you really wanted look better than you did then. You labelled it pretty much a disaster since you were a catatonic mess regretting all her life choices, probably looking unappealing in all your photos. 

Along with knowing the impact Taehyung has, not only in the business world but in general also left you wanting to up your game. You were his wife now, and that came with a high amount of scrutiny and criticism having nabbed one of the most eligible bachelor’s in Korea.

You’d already given up ever checking any articles and avoided social media, knowing that there would be inevitably nasty and judgmental comments. This night was important though, where you’d flank him as the women he’s so-called ‘in love with’ or the ‘love of his life’. 

It also dawned on you Taehyung in fact had a high-valued reputation to uphold, and so did you as his wife. 

So as you stood before the mirror in the walk-in closet, inspecting your dress, you contemplated how you’d survive this night, how you would act as the perfect, most suitable wife to Taehyung. 

You really wanted to hide your face out of how dolled up you looked; your makeup was on the elegant side, not heavy but brushed up to look soft, completed with red lipstick that matched your dress and hair set around your face in loose waves. 

The dress looked almost embarrassingly good on you, Taehyung somehow having chosen the right sized dress as it hugged your every curve right, accentuating the right parts of your body and even the V neckline not dipping too low, but showing quite the generous amount of skin. 

You couldn’t stop blushing at all. 

Taehyung had finally arrived at the house, rushing inside quickly registering he was cutting the time close. “Y/N! I’m home!” he called for you, quickly checking his appearance in a mirror as he smoothed pieces of his parted hair, curling just before his eyes and revealing some forehead.

“I’m in our room!” 

He approved his own look in the mirror and jogged up the stairs, mentally preparing himself before he’d have to see you in the dress he chose, almost excited about it. 

He’d simply loved it at first sight, and couldn’t stop pondering what the striking colour would look like on you. So as Taehyung entered your bedroom, he became confused finding it empty. He then ventured further inside, catching sight of the ajar closet door and light beaming through. 

He sauntered over carefully, peeking inside and Taehyung’s jaw nearly dropped to the floor, almost stupidly. 

His eyes fell to you standing in front of the mirror, fidgeting as you looked at yourself in the dress with the back of it undone. 

And Taehyung had never seen anything more pretty in his life. 

He was speechless for the umpteenth time because of you, not even knowing how to begin a sentence because he might sound like a second grader if he did. So all Taehyung could muster up the literacy to say was “Wow.” 

You turned around instantly, eyes looking as though you were a deer caught in headlights. Taehyung’s eyes widened even more peering at the elegant front, jaw almost slack as he scanned over your body.

“T-Taehyung.” You couldn’t think of anything else to say. 

Taehyung still seemed to be struggling a little, eyes glued to you until he cleared his throat and looked away. “Um, yeah?” 

“S-sorry, but.. could you actually..?” And you did it again, angling your back towards Taehyung to call to the zipper of your dress. You really couldn’t try zipping it yourself, which left it sitting comfortably just at your lower back, your skin exposed to Taehyung. 

You could visibly see Taehyung flash his eyes to your skin until he looked elsewhere, nodding as he licked his lips. “Sure.” 

You watched him near you, his face blank as he took a handful of your hair and softly placed in front of you. He then brought his hand against your side to hold you in place, his other working for the zipper. It was another case of his rather hot breath fanning your back, almost teasingly zipping up your dress by simple inches. 

He was close again, closer than he’s been in a week and you sincerely hated it always affected you in some way. It made your chest flutter, suck in a breath you didn’t even need to hold in. You relaxed when Taehyung finally finished, his hands gripping your arms from behind as he looked at you through the mirror.

And for some odd reason, he liked how your heights contrasted each other. 

He had the slightest hint of a smile, eyes seeming to gleam with something you couldn’t quite decipher. 

“You look pretty.” He said, gazing at you through the reflection and you had to physically stop from beaming like an idiot. Your chest fills with butterflies, face collecting with heat at his compliment. 

How could an Adonis like him call you pretty?

You bit your lip, gazing up at his taller, impeccably dressed reflection as you admired him, his every feature crafted to a degree of perfection that left you in awe. 

“You look really handsome.” You complimented, watching his lips just about curve into a smile that met his eyes, and you wish he didn’t have to look so handsome when he smiled too. 

“Thank you.” He voiced before turning you around by your arms to face him. “Make sure you wear a coat tonight, it’s cold.” He informed, you nodding until your quick eyes spotted his tie loosened by just a centimeter, throwing you off. 

“Oh, your tie.” You exclaimed quietly, reaching for it without a thought and pushing it upwards, angling it to perfection. Taehyung suddenly froze, unexpecting of you doing such a thing and so proximal his nose flooded with your perfume, liking the scent. 

Peonies. 

He tensed with an unknown feeling until your gazes locked on each other, simply looking to look while your hands remained on his tie. He realized more than a second passed and Taehyung scrambled for something to say, sputtering.

“I’ll uh.. I’ll be waiting out front.” He assured as he stepped away, exiting the room quickly and leaving you to your lonesome. 

This was gonna be one hell of a night, you thought.

“Remember, there’s going to be a lot of cameras and people here. We’ll really need to act like a couple.” Taehyung sat beside you in the back of an Escalade, manspreading in all his glory and you were sincerely glad he couldn’t read your mind.

“Got it, let’s give em’ a show.” You cheered with your little fists, determined as the car arrived at the lavish venue. 

“Yeah, let’s do it.” Taehyung mimicked your action. “Don’t worry about getting nervous, I’m there.” He assured for good measure, gauging your affirmation.  

You nodded as you took a deep breath, smoothing over your dress and fixing your hair. Taehyung unbuckled his seatbelt and leaned into you, speaking near your ear. “I’ll get out first and open the door for you, wait here.” You tensed at the action before nodding again, Taehyung making his way out the car. 

He then opened your door as promised within seconds, greeting you with a warm smile as he held out his hand for you. You grinned back at him affectionately as you took it, adjusting your dress to step onto the concrete. 

You were met by dozens of camera flashes and a yelling crowd, shouting various things you couldn’t quite make out. You were almost distracted by it and felt a small sense of anxiety creep up you, until Taehyung pulled you flush against his side, hand curving around your waist.

You smiled up at him in accordance, and he beamed back as he walked you two down the carpet leading into the venue, casually ignoring all the noise and people. 

Taehyung guided you inside safely to where you were welcomed by a beautiful looking hall, pristine and extremely elegant. It was surely fitting for a grand gala. Your eyes caught a small crowd of photographers in the foyer snapping photos at a certain wall with a backdrop, curiosity dawning on you as Taehyung led you towards the coat check. 

“What’s happening there?” You pointed towards the scene. 

“Oh, exclusive press.” He snuck a look, stripping off his coat. “They’re the ones I was talking about, they’re gonna take pictures of us.” Taehyung answered distracted as he retrieved your coat and gave both to the coat checker, smiling a thank you. 

You didn’t even have time to really respond as Taehyung dragged you to the very scene, the pair of you next to have photos taken. You tried to process the whole thing as he walked you over, mentally preparing to look your best until Taehyung suddenly whispered lowly in your ear again. 

And again, it sent shivers down your spine. 

“Just smile and hold me, okay?” Your chest fluttered for an odd reason, nodding back to him as he brought you in front of the line of photographers. 

You stayed true to your promise and tucked an arm around his torso as the other draped his chest, closest to him as you could. Taehyung almost settled next to you until he felt something at his feet, noticing he was nearly stepping on your gown. 

He broke away from you, unexpectedly bending down to catch the skirt of your dress and delicately fix it behind you. You heard the hushed exclamations of the photographers, most of them doting on his considerate act as you just about protested, though suddenly remembered Taehyung’s words from today. 

It was probably better to stay silent. 

So you simply smiled as you watched Taehyung adjust your dress, feeling a warm sensation spread across your chest when he returned even though it most likely was for show, his hands coming back on you. 

This time you didn’t try to suppress anything, allowing some of your feelings to manifest into a real smile, remembering you were to appear as a couple anyway. 

And whether or not there was some truth to your expressions, was anyone really keeping track?

You two began posing for the photographers, smiling in all directions and clutching onto each other closely. You occasionally tried different angles to look better, everything going smoothly until you heard someone shout out, eyes widening as a result.

“Kiss her!” 

It wasn’t long before the other photographers began agreeing, encouraging Taehyung to kiss you and you had no clue how he would react. You were slightly biting your lip as you were occupied avoiding eye contact, that was until Taehyung quietly called you.

“Y/N, look at me.” 

“Hm?” You instinctively responded and looked up at him, completely taken by surprise when Taehyung suddenly planted a soft kiss to your forehead. Your eyes visibly went wider, only his chest to stare at until he eventually disconnected.

He returned his eyes to you and grinned at your wide-eyed reaction, suddenly reminding you. “Smile,” he encouraged with the flash of his own boxy grin, wanting to see you smile. 

And it damn well worked. 

Taehyung was right about the size of this gala. 

Huge. 

It was grand, the entire hall seeming to be spat right out of a castle with about a hundred fancy-looking people inside. You thought it would’ve been uninteresting and difficult to communicate with others tonight and put on your best fake smile, though the night’s atmosphere amassed with champagne, good food and great conversationalists left you in a better mood than you expected. 

It was actually quite fun, finding yourself genuinely conversing with the people Taehyung dragged you to meet, keeping to your promise of staying right by his side the whole night, and he kept his, never having left you. 

You’d met various people, having gotten familiar to Taehyung’s high-status world of business and relations. Long story short, Taehyung knew a lot of people, and you were surprised at how extroverted he suddenly seemed.  

He was practically a social butterfly, not having forgotten a single name of who he spoke to along with somehow remembering personal details about their lives. It left you impressed, joining along with his light-hearted conversation with your own extrovert tendencies. 

Everyone you’d met had been nice so far, but by far the most amusing people you’d met had to have been Taehyung’s 5 best friends, the same ones you’d seen in his photographs. 

“Y/N, this is Kim Namjoon and Seokjin, they’re brothers.” 

Both tall and quite frankly broad men greeted you warmly, one of them having a nice dimply smile while the other was far too handsome to be looked at for free. 

“Nice to meet you, Y/N.” They said after another, reaching out to shake your hand. “We’re co-CEOs of one of Korea’s largest private airline.” Namjoon of the two informed.   

“Likewise. And wow, that’s impressive.” You complimented. “Might I also say, you’re both.. tall.” You had to almost crane your neck to meet their eyes, thankful for the heels you were wearing as the group laughed at your remark. 

“Perhaps, though you’re quite short yourself, Y/N.” Seokijn commented light-heartedly, causing you to playfully pout and retort him. “Oh c’mon, I hear that from Taehyung already, not you too.” You giggled, absentmindedly leaning into Taehyung as he tensed, your body pressing into his. 

“It’s cause Taehyung likes short girls, teasing means he likes you.”  A built looking man with longer hair suddenly joked, nudging Taehyung with his elbow.

“Shut up, Jungkook. I was gonna give you a proper introduction, not anymore.” Taehyung scolded, though Jungkook persisted. 

“Well, you just said my name, that’s already half the intro.” Jungkook then gently took your hand, placing a chaste kiss against the back of it you didn’t expect at all. 

“Nice to meet you, Y/N. Jeon Jungkook, CEO of Korea’s largest game development company.” Jungkook sent you a kind smile and it was hard to not compare him to a bunny, his teeth reminding you of one. 

“Yah, don’t do that” Taehyung swatted Jungkook’s hand away, protesting disapprovingly. 

“Woah, did Taehyung just get jealous?” Namjoon inquired shocked.

“Somebody get their phone out, we’ll need evidence I didn’t hit him first.” Jungkook held up his hands in mock surrender. 

“Jungkook, the only thing we’re finding in our phones is videos of you nibbling on carrots.” Taehyung quipped and it made the group chortle, yourself speaking up at the mention of a rabbit. 

“Actually, I was thinking you resemble a bunny.” You simply wanted to voice an observation, though it sent the whole group into a frenzy. 

“See Jungkook! Other people notice it too!” A man you hadn’t been introduced to yet suddenly burst out, though you could automatically tell he gave off this radiant energy that was infectious. 

He almost felt like the sun. 

“Whatever, Hoseok, you’re like a squirrel.” Jungkook countered and you digested the man’s name for information. 

“And you’re a rabbit, you better buy me what we wagered.” Hoseok scolded from what you could assume, was the younger of the two. 

“Wagered? I don’t remember anything about that.” Jungkook feigned innocence as he looked off to the side.

“Jungkook, we were all there that day, you owe Hoseok a vending machine.” Namjoon spoke up, laughing through the remark. 

“Guys. Y/N is literally right here, we didn’t even introduce ourselves properly.” A man with a fairly sweet voice interjected. He had such soft visuals, almost similar to an angel if you wanted to be honest. 

He then looked to you with a sweet smile, extending his hand. “Nice to meet you, Y/N. Park Jimin, CEO of Park Hotels & Resorts”

“This is his event.” Taehyung informed.

“Ohh, nice to meet you!” You perked up, his aura making you feel all comfortable and giggly, there was just something about his bubbly energy. 

The man named Hoseok then extended his hand, “Nice to meet you, Y/N. Jung Hoseok. Sorry for the late introduction, but I basically own a bunch of famous clubs across Korea.” He laughed all dimply and warm, and he really did remind you of the sun. 

“Oh wow, hopefully we’ll get to visit sometime! Clubs are so fun.” You lit up, all excited about a good club scene until Taehyung ruined your fun. 

“Nuh uh, not after your little drunk scene at our engagement party.” Taehyung looked down at you and chastised. 

“Taehyung, it wasn’t even that much. Don’t be dramatic.” You scolded him back. 

“Alright Miss I’m-Not-A-Lightweight, I almost had to carry you.” 

“I was walking just fine last time I remembered.” You crossed your arms and feigned innocence, Taehyung growing scandalized. 

“Oh really, now?” He cocked an eyebrow, just about to continue until Namjoon interjected. “Looks like married life’s been treating you guys well.” 

“Of course, they look practically in love.” Hoseok beamed sarcastically, gesturing towards you both.

“C’mon, Taehyung, tell us what you love about her. Let’s see the simping.” Jungkook playfully taunted Taehyung, egging him on.  

“Shut up. You all already know our marriage isn’t real.” Taehyung rebutted the younger man, eyes narrowed. 

You were taken aback, eyes flashing to Taehyung. “They know?” 

“Of course they do, your best friend knows too, doesn’t she?” Taehyung was referring to Hana, and you acquiesced realizing he had a point. 

“You know, you guys say it’s a fake marriage but you look pretty close to me.” Jimin pointed towards Taehyung’s arm still hugging around your waist, causing you both to realize and promptly disconnect. 

“No, we aren’t.” You and Taehyung retorted at the same time, vision snapping to each other with shocked eyes. 

“Oh c’mon, Tae, you’re really gonna say about your wife?” Seokjin teased him, playful lilt to his tone. 

“Yeah, Taehyung, just look at her, how aren’t you whipped already?” Jungkook remarked as he gestured towards you, feeling shy as your feet shuffled. 

“I’m not answering that.” Taehyung bit back with an irritated tone, folding his arms as he broke eye contact with the group. 

You decided to lighten the mood. “Guys, please, the only thing Taehyung’s whipped for is his company.” You joked, and despite the small sense of hurt saying that sentence, you felt joy making the men suddenly laugh so loudly. 

Taehyung’s shy and embarrassed expression was even more priceless. 

“Oh my God, Y/N, you’re seriously the perfect match for him.” Hoseok added on as he laughed and you couldn’t help but bite back a smile, not knowing what he meant by that though taking it as a compliment.

“Alright guys, remember we had a mission: operation make-Taehyung-and-Y/N’s-marriage-seem-real-as-fuck.” Jungkook suddenly put on the theatrics and halted the group, changing the conversation. 

“Oh yeah, we had a whole plan, didn’t we?” Jimin remembered. 

“Yup. Gotta prepare them for nosey press and annoying relatives. We should start with questions they’d get asked. Make it like a fake interview or something.” Namjoon suggested, leading along the others as he pretended to hold a microphone. 

“You’re all some of the richest men in Seoul yet you’re acting like children. I don’t know you people.” Taehyung tried waving the men off while you couldn’t help but laugh, finding them the most fun people you’ve encountered. 

Childish or not, they were completely unexpected of what you thought a group of CEOs. They didn’t live up to the cliché uptight and uber sophisticated stereotype, rather open and acted however they chose. 

It was refreshing. 

“It’s cause we’re friends with you, Taehyung.” Hoseok shot back and it made everyone snicker. 

“I got it. Let’s ask them to spill some details about each other only they’d know. Someone’s bound to ask that.” Seokjin reasoned, gauging agreeance from the others. 

“Oh my God, you guys already know our marriage is fake. Why would you make this up?” You asked through a giggle, still finding the situation comical. 

“Sorry Mrs. Kim, but that’s precisely why, and I’m afraid we don’t know what you mean by ‘fake’. Now tell the good press something about Mr. Kim we don’t know.” Jungkook began the skit as he held his fake microphone towards you, the others joining in as though imitating paparazzi. 

“Alright, this is gonna be exclusive, pens ready?” You decided to join them, and they all nodded in confirmation as Taehyung flashed his eyes to you, unprepared for you to play along. 

“Mr. Kim is quite something.” You addressed him formally for effect. “He acts all mysterious and cool, but he’s actually just a cuddler who likes tea and cuts the crusts off his bread.” You relayed with a wide grin, all of them suddenly exclaiming and reacting like a high schooler has just confessed the name of their crush. 

“Oh my God, Tae, seriously? Bread crusts? What are you, like, 3?” Seokjin teased. 

“Hyung, your ears literally turn red when people give you attention. Are you 3?” Taehyung retorted and it only elicited more noise from the group, Seokjin exclaiming defensively and Taehyung bringing a hand up to his forehead, sighing. 

“Guys! Okay, let’s get some real answers here. We gotta know what Y/N would say if someone asked her.. maybe some things she likes about Taehyung. Let’s hear it.” Jimin got everyone back on track, attention on you. 

You smiled nervously and flashed a look towards Taehyung, who still had this arms folded and vision looking off to the side, ignoring the entire situation before him. 

You could tell he was pissed with the way his jaw locked, though the fact that he wasn’t paying attention made you a little more confident. 

Taehyung wasn’t exactly pissed, though if he could bonk all his friends on the head a few times he would. He knew teasing and jokes were all common within the group, he just didn’t expect to be the sole target tonight, and so he decided to smoothly neglect the conversation altogether. 

He was succeeding, not expecting you to answer their question seriously until Taehyung suddenly heard you speak up, surprised eyes flickering to you. 

“Hmm, if I had to say..” You were hesitant, Taehyung shocked you were even answering. 

What would you say? 

“He has nice, big hands.” You admitted softly, Taehyung’s brows raising with surprise. “He has a nice voice, too, and... his smile.” You added as you nodded to yourself, confirming your own list and Taehyung was left damn near speechless once again. 

He didn’t really know how to act, acknowledging his face as the most common thing people liked about him, rarely ever hearing those aspects of himself mentioned. 

And he oddly felt.. nice.

“Awh, now that’s cute, good job, Y/N.” Jungkook praised you, Hoseok then pointing his make-believe mic in Taehyung’s direction. 

“Your turn, Chairman Kim, what do you like most about your wife?” He mimicked an interviewer and everyone followed in accordance, mics shifting towards him. 

“Uhh..” Taehyung became slightly nervous under everyone’s scrutiny, not knowing if he should assume his usual unreadable nature or answer their request truthfully. 

“Tae, dude, if you don’t say anything then I will.” Jungkook declared, just about ready to speak again until you cut him off, snorting. 

“Don’t sweat it, guys. He won’t say anything.” You really knew Taehyung would have nothing to say, so you crossed your arms and became uninterested in the conversation.

Until Taehyung spoke. 

“She does this pouting thing.. with her lips. It’s cute.” Taehyung started, coming up to rub the back of his neck awkwardly and peer at anything but a pair of eyes. “Her height.. and her eyes. She has nice eyes.” 

The floor had to be tired of you by now, because Taehyung seemed to make you want to fall hard pretty often. You didn’t know what to do, eyes blown and nearly on the verge of choking, unable to believe a Godly being like Taehyung just admitted to liking something about you. 

Is this what it feels like to win at life?

His words kept ringing in your head, melting into a shy mess with your cheeks beyond hot, avoiding eye contact with everyone while Taehyung grew slightly embarrassed, similarly looking off to the side. 

“Holy shit, you guys are actually cute.” Jimin remarked through a chuckle as he  pointed at you both, you and Taehyung mirroring the same look of horror while protesting at the same time. “No we aren’t!” 

And it only made the men crack up even harder. 

It was laugh after laugh as that conversation went on, finding a quick and pleasant liking to Taehyung’s friends. They’d made it clear as day they liked you as well, to be precise they seemed to love you, making playful nudges at Taehyung for saying yes to someone just right for him; and you seriously pondered what that exactly meant. 

It was further into the night now, the gala having picked up in activity and passed the long social hour, now leading into more of a party scene as upbeat music filled the hall. 

You’d stuck with Taehyung the whole night as promised, having met more of the people he knew. The evening had been quite calm, both you and Taehyung having silently, though mutually ignored the conversation from before for sanity purposes, only focusing on the additional people you met. 

Taehyung and yourself had been talking up a storm with Jimin for the past half an hour, Taehyung introducing him as his best friend and getting the full run down of how that came about. It was highly entertaining, listening to mentions of alcohol, 4AM fighting and even an incident with dumplings. 

It had you three laughing merrily while music played, Taehyung’s arm draped around you like it had been for majority of the night, practically hugging you to him. He was elaborating on a story that had something to do with a dream-catcher, all smiles and giggles. 

That was until Taehyung suddenly froze next to you, sight seeming to set on a person behind Jimin and he immediately changed his aura. 

“Jimin, what the fuck? Did you invite him?” Taehyung cocked his head in the general direction, eyes set hard. 

Jimin’s eyebrows shot up and and casually looked behind him, registering the culprit himself and turning back to Taehyung. “Holy shit, no, I didn’t.” 

“Then why is he here?” 

“Fuck, I don’t know, Tae. My parents probably invited him, I’m sorry.” Jimin apologized as he rubbed the back of his neck, growing apprehensive.

“Don’t worry, Jimin. It’s just.. not him, not fucking him.” Taehyung’s voice grew a little darker, almost hateful as his hand gripped around you tighter.  

“Taehyung, what’s wrong?” You asked tentatively, though didn’t exactly get a response since Taehyung became distracted, talking more so to himself. 

“Why the fuck is he here of all people? Of all damn people..” Taehyung scoffed to himself humorlessly, clearly annoyed. 

“Taehyung, who?” 

“Nobody, we’re getting a drink. Jimin, please?” Taehyung and Jimin had a conversation with their eyes, Jimin immediately nodding and moving towards a certain man you barely caught sight off before Taehyung was pulling you away. You tried protesting, but the tightened grip around you and Taehyung’s frustrated expression was enough to shut you up. 

Something was seriously wrong. 

You followed him along quietly until you heard a bit of a commotion behind you, able to distinguish Jimin’s voice protesting. You almost looked back until a stranger suddenly snuck up on Taehyung, draping an arm over him. 

“Kim Taehyung! Where you going? Damn, it’s been long.” The man spoke as he lowered his hand to Taehyung’s back, nearly smacking it as though they were old time buddies. 

Though the expression that painted Taehyung’s face said completely otherwise; he looked extremely irritated, and not the playful type. 

“Hisung, yeah, it has.” Taehyung bleakly acknowledged him, said man with an arm still draped over Taehyung’s shoulders until he shrugged him off harshly, pulling you closer to him protectively.

It made the man direct his attention to you. “Oh, this is your wife, right? Nice to meet you, Han Hisung.” The man smiled and extended his hand, not knowing if you should extend yours until Taehyung blatantly cut the man off, physically blocking his hand. 

“Skip the pleasantries, Hisung, what do you want?” You were shocked to see this emotion on Taehyung; rarely having seen him frustrated, trying to manage his annoyance as he gave Hisung a dead stare, intimidating as ever. 

Though Hisung didn’t cower like everyone else did, seeming to rather thrive.

“I don’t want anything. I can’t just meet your wife?” He coated his tone condescendingly, gesturing towards you. 

“No, you can’t. We’re getting a drink.” Taehyung seriously seemed bothered as he began walking you away with him, the harder squeeze of his hand around you indicating he was either growing more irritated, didn’t want to let you go, or a mix of both. 

“Oh, c’mon.” Hisung pulled Taehyung back by the shoulder but Taehyung becomes irritated, shoving his arm away harshly. 

“Not now, Hisung. Not at Jimin’s event.” Taehyung warned him as though he was crossing a fine line, and you grew afraid of what would occur if that were compromised.  

“What, I’m not doing anything.” Hisung held out his arms, feigning innocence. “I gotta say though, if I wanted one thing it’d be to say your wife’s hot as fuck.” He cocked an eyebrow and began eyeing you in your dress, growing uncomfortable and sending him a dirty look, though you naturally leaned closer towards Taehyung and he took notice. 

“Say that again I’ll make you regret it, Hisung.” Taehyung’s jaw was locked, a protective feeling overwhelming him. 

“You’re seriously gonna introduce her to everyone but me?” Hisung looked offended. “She should know who I am, especially to you.” He tried making a point, eluding to something between them. 

“Nah, I don’t think so.” Taehyung flat out rejected him, his expression blunt as he seemed to radiate unbothered energy. 

“I think you should. She should know the kind of man her husband is, and what he’s done.” He said knowingly, in a daunting way that accused Taehyung of something that seemed deeper than it looked.  

“There’s nothing to know, and I never did anything.” Taehyung simply denied, as though he’s said this multiple times.

“Really? You don’t wanna tell her about how you sabotage people? Use your money to buy success?” 

Taehyung had to pinch the bridge of his nose, sighing out frustrated. “For fuck’s sake, how many times do I have to tell you? I’ve never done shit like that. Leave.” Taehyung finalized, attempting to control his anger.

You were trying to remain calm and look on objectively, though felt a sense of worry for where this was going, only Taehyung’s seemingly instinctive guard on you keeping you from anxiety. 

Hisung scoffed, “You know, your wife should know how much of a fucking liar you are.” He spat, his vision suddenly growing narrowed as he eyed you both suspiciously. “Come to think of it, wife kinda sounds like a stretch.” 

This time it wasn’t even Taehyung responding, you beating him to the punch. “Excuse me? The fuck does that mean?” 

“Oh, so she talks.” 

You were just about stepping forward to give this asshole a piece of your mind until Taehyung suddenly gripped onto your arms from behind, pulling you to him protectively.

“Hisung, what the fuck do you want?” Taehyung’s tone was leveled with a sense of controlled rage, clear effort to contain himself and you were completely understanding of that. 

“Not much. I just find your marriage suspicious, and if I do then others do too. Wouldn’t want to taint the precious Kim reputation with that, now would we?” The remark was sly, causing Taehyung’s hold around you to tense.  

“What the fuck are you implying, exactly? Try making some sense.” 

“Your marriage isn’t convincing, jackass. There’s no way you two are really married, don’t think I don’t know there’s something behind it.” He stared squarely back at Taehyung, determined. “And when I get my hands on that information, don't think you're the only one who can sabotage someone.” Hisung was resolute as he declared his threat, only making Taehyung more resentful, more rash. 

“Your opinion doesn’t matter to me, jackass. Nothing you do does” Taehyung was confident in the argument and it oddly made you proud, now understanding why he was so successful and well-acclaimed. It’s like he truly didn't care what others thought and only lived for the purpose of what he found important to him, contributing to his confidence and composed approach towards life. He carried himself with an affirmed sense of self-worth that never bordered egotistical, and you were lying if you said it wasn’t hot sometimes. 

Because scratch that, it was incredibly hot. 

Hisung laughed humourlessly, hissing. “I don’t think we can say the same about Mrs. Kim, though, her opinion should matter to you, right?” He then suddenly turned his vision to you and drew closer, speaking in a superficially saccharine tone. “Jagiya, you should really look into who your husband is. He’s not half the man he says he is.” Hisung suddenly came too close and Taehyung immediately tugged you behind him, shielding your smaller frame as his tone dangerously darkened. 

“Don’t call her that, and never fucking come near her.” Taehyung was seething now, clutching one of your hands so tightly you became worried of his heightened emotions.

“Nah, I don’t think so.” Hisung mimicked him. “She should know I’d treat her better than her asshole of a husband, make sure she’s nice and satisfied with how much of a man I am compared to you.” Hisung remarked without a single care, and you nearly felt the blooding searing in Taehyung’s veins. 

But you could tell that was exactly Hisung’s goal; to rile Taehyung up and it unfortunately worked. No longer was the calm, cool and collected Taehyung you knew, instead feeling him suddenly rush towards Hisung with a fist until you gripped onto his jacket from behind, calling his name. 

“Tae.” Your voice was soft, immediately stopping him as you clutched urgently. Taehyung could hear the frailty of your worried voice, could feel your little hold on his jacket as he came to his senses.

Taehyung grinded his teeth hard as his fist tightened for a mere second before steadily loosening, calming himself down before he made his last remark. “Go fuck yourself, Hisung.” Taehyung spat with pure disdain as he turned around and swept up your hand, leading you away from the situation as far as possible. 

He pulled you along hastily, walking with a sense of speed that almost had you tripping on your dress. You were seconds from telling him to slow down until he stopped you both in a hallway.

“Taehyung, wh-” You almost got out until Taehyung suddenly pushed you up against the nearest wall, breath hot and heavy as he huffed frustratedly, raw anger written all over him. 

Taehyung’s entire towering body was unexpectedly inches from you, his forearms laid against the marble tiling above your head as he hung his own low, almost trying to conceal his face into your shoulder. It’s like he was blocking you off from any other person, defensively caging you as his chest rose and fell shallowly with white hot anger, your face tucked into his shoulder. His heated breath was continuously tickling the exposed skin of your neck, so close your heart was beating faster than it should’ve. 

You were only left shocked, hands fallen slack by your sides and unable to move. 

“I’m sorry.” He huffed out suddenly. “Fuck, I’m so sorry I’m just.. really angry right now and I can’t calm down.” Taehyung seemed infuriated though worried, his hands clutching into fists above you as he leaned in even closer, mere centimeters between you two as he remained pressed into your personal space.

“Shit, don’t be scared I just-fuck, I hate him. He’s the only person who makes me so angry.” Taehyung breathed out frustratedly, eyes shut as he tried to control himself. “And fuck, I didn’t want him near you. I don’t want him to talk to you. I don’t want anyone to fucking come near you.” 

Taehyung’s confessions kept coming and you were simply taken aback, another show of his emotions on full display and you wondered how he always so neatly composed himself.

“Tae-”

“Just stay in front of me, please.” He begged. “Where I can see you, just stay here.” He stressed, trying his best to breathe properly but only failed. “I don’t.. think I like when other guys are around you.” He confessed out of nowhere, trying to work through the claim hesitantly at first until he eventually nodded, affirming it. 

“Yeah, I don’t like it.” He declared as he continued to lean in, his proximity allowing for you to constantly smell his intoxicating, Invictus cologne; its sexy scent paired with his perfectly tailored suit hugging the curves of his large, broad body only arousing your nerves. 

“God, fuck.” He huffed out. “No matter what, stay away from Hisung. Never talk to him. He ruins everything he touches, every fucking thing.” Taehyung was dead serious, still hiding his face from you as he spoke angrily near your ear. “He’s been trying to ruin me for years. He’s already tried with everything else and he’ll come for you. He can’t ruin our marriage, and I swear to God if he fucking does anything to you-”

“Taehyung, hey, shh.” You brought your hands up to his chest to try calming him down, able to discern Taehyung ever rarely grew angry and when he did, just needed someone to quell his troubles. “Breathe, Taehyung, breathe, okay?” You spoke with a soft tone, trying to contrast the white hot anger you could sense in him by rubbing his chest pacifyingly. 

Taehyung immediately tensed at the action, almost in shock until he ultimately tried to breathe, slow and steady. 

“There you go, that’s better.” You encouraged into his shoulder, hands resting and lightly massaging as you inquired. “Talk to me, Taehyung, what’s wrong? Who’s Hisung?” 

“Fuck, I’ll get angry again.” He warned, breath still hot and heavy as you smoothed over his dress shirt, trying to soothe him.  

“It’s okay. I’m here, Tae, you have me. Tell me anything.” You assured and attempted to mirror his own words from a week ago, worried about his open show of emotions and thinking you should be helpful, make sure you're supplying all the support he needs because he may never be this open again. 

Taehyung’s temper was still high, more of his hot breath on your shoulder as he spoke, lips still by your ear and the bass in his voice sending currents through you. 

“It goes back 3 years, rival companies.” He began. “His father was dismissed as CEO and they held a shareholders meeting to decide a new one. Long story short, he won the vote, but only by a 49-51 percent margin. He barely scrapped by, and after he was appointed CEO he found out his major shareholders voted against him. What made things worse was that right after, they pulled all their shares from his company and invested in mine, and he fucking-” Taehyung was growing frustrated again recounting the story, his body rising and falling faster until your hands snaked up to his jaw, fingers splaying across his cheeks as you held his face pacifyingly. 

“Taehyung, breathe again. You’re fine.” You felt him listen to you, breathing deeply as he became more composed again, continuing.

“He thinks I sabotaged him, that I colluded with his shareholders and used my money when I never did. I only had acquainted relationships with them at the time and never convinced them of anything. They told me they chose to invest because they saw me as the better company, the more competent CEO.” Taehyung was venting, and you let him exactly do so by attentively listening, holding him. 

“It wasn’t my fault, but he thinks it is. And now he’s made it his life’s mission to ruin mine, ruin anything he can get his hands on because he’s convinced I ruined his.” Taehyung sounded upset, clearly fed up with having to deal with such an incessant pain in the ass. 

“Just not you,” He sounded like he was pleading, a whisper. “Not fucking you, he can’t ruin us, or our marriage.”  

“He won’t, Taehyung. We won’t let him.” The pads of your thumbs smoothed over Taehyung’s skin, trying to ease him as he moved back slightly, vision meeting yours.

“Y/N, I don’t lie. I wouldn’t sabotage anybody, I don’t play dirty like that. Even if the business world is riddled with people like that, I would never do it. I’m not like that at all.” A hint of desperation leaked into his tone, eyes gentle as he so emphatically tried to convince you he was nothing like Hisung said. 

And you found your heart softening thinking about the fact that it affected him so much. That while he didn’t care what others thought of him, he somehow valued what you thought. 

“Taehyung, don’t worry, I know, okay? You’re completely fine. He just tries to rile you up because he knows you’re better, more competent.” You slid your hands back down over his neck, letting them rest over his strong chest again. It made your breaths uneven, registering how close he was to you, just inches from your face. 

“He probably knows those shareholders chose you because you’re the better CEO. He knows it, he just tries to deny the truth by looking for ways to ruin your life, so he doesn’t have to accept he’s inferior.” You offered earnestly, rhythmically smoothing him over. Taehyung’s eyes suddenly swirled with a sense of ease, his tense body now seeming to relax. “You think so?” 

“Of course, Tae. You’re nothing like that, I know you’re not.” You said determinedly, gripping his shirt lightly to drive your point forward, eyes conveying warmth. 

Though the response that met you was Taehyung gazing into your eyes boldly as he heard you address him so casually by a nickname already, his look containing something you couldn’t decipher, and it left butterflies swarming your chest. 

You didn’t realize how intoxicatingly close you both were in this position; Taehyung’s arms caging you against the wall, body pressing into you as he looked at you, not breathing hard anymore but hotly, like he was feeling something he was attempting to manage. Your hands funnily contrasted the size of his chest as he glanced at them, then up at him, clutching him a little tighter the more the tension seemed to build.  

It was obvious now, both of you were merely staring at each other, Taehyung’s Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallowed and your eyes followed the movement, something unknown alighting inside you at the image. It called necessary attention to his sculpted neck and you found yourself wondering if you’d ever get to lay kisses on it, possibly even mark it

You bit your lip at the thought, hating that such an idea dawned on you, igniting with something unholy the more you breathed in his sexy scent, his large body enclosing you. It sent chills down your spine, trying to contain yourself by shifting and clamping down on your lip harder.

Taehyung’s eyes flickered to the very action, his undivided attention now on your mouth. He could feel every harder squeeze of your hands on his chest as the heat rose, fisting his own hands against the wall with the need to draw himself closer to you, especially with the way you looked right now. 

Taehyung already couldn’t keep his hands off you when you resembled the hottest, and yet most gorgeous thing he’s ever seen in that dress. Either a sweet angel descended from heaven or the right kind of demon he craved. It was even more difficult knowing it’s a dress he chose, adoring the way you were wrapped up in his favourite colour, and thought red has never looked better on anyone else.

It also made him think of some things he shouldn’t speak aloud. Though Taehyung knew you, and knew you weren't ready for anything of that sort, so he remained collected and only stuck to having an arm around you tonight, mindful of boundaries. 

But when you were under his scrutiny, smaller self tucked against a wall because of him and clearly hot and bothered yourself, your exposed skin raking his brain, he couldn’t keep from nearing your lips. 

He’s once felt how soft they were before, seeing on multiple occasions how plushy they truly are and desiring to feel that same soft sensation again. So he disregarded all thought, coming forward inch by inch as he gauged your response, and when he viewed you fluttering your eyes shut and lifting your head towards him, he fought back cracking a smirk. 

Taehyung was milliseconds from connecting your mouths, feeling the skin of his lips blissfully brush yours as his sweet breath invaded your mouth, only for a frantic voice suddenly calling out his name to interrupt, the very culprit tumbling into the hallway. 

“Taehyung! Y/N- oh shit.” Taehyung immediately ducked his face away from you and you hastily let him go, Taehyung puffing out frustrated air as he met his friends’ eyes. “Jimin.. what?” 

“I-uh. I’m sorry, but I got Hisung kicked out and we’re gonna start the last toast. You guys should um...be there.” Jimin cleared his throat and began shuffling, avoiding eye contact with the both of you. 

“Okay, we’re coming.” 

“Sorry, again.” Jimin bowed lightly and nearly made a break for it. 

Taehyung sighed heavily, pushing himself off the wall and straightening up as he freed you, finally able to breathe peacefully. 

“We should um.. go.” He voiced awkwardly.

“Yeah.. just give me a second. I’ll be back from the restroom.” You dared to make eye contact with him to seem unaffected, though panicked the instant your gazes locked.

“Okay.” He nodded, seeming unbothered.

You grasped the skirt of your dress and your heels clacked against the tiled flooring as you scurried off, needing to find the bathroom to see whether or not you appeared as much of a mess as you felt. 

You bolted inside and ran towards the sink, spotting two women possibly your age by the mirror though ultimately ignored them, patting over your cheeks to feel how warm they were. 

Were you really just seconds away from kissing Taehyung? Kissing him? What would’ve happened if Jimin never walked in? Would you have kissed him for however long, would you have stopped it? 

Even better question, why didn’t you stop it? Why were you so ready to kiss him, maybe even excited by the very idea? It sent a chill down your spine, even recalling that Taehyung stated earlier he liked your lips. 

Kim Taehyung liked your lips, the same ridiculously high-status, wealthy man people were on their knees for, practically Seoul’s most powerful CEO and Korea’s seemingly unattainable bachelor; that same Taehyung was the one who liked not only your lips, but your height, even your eyes. 

He said they were nice. 

You didn’t even want to unbox the entire Hisung situation. He so naturally defended you, even held you back out of consideration for your safety it seemed, and it frightened you how much you liked it, liked that he was so protective and made all those confessions about disliking other men around you.

It may have been possessive, but you fucking liked it. 

And you already felt doomed. 

You were simply imploding on yourself, having your own personal meltdown when one of the two women audaciously addressed you, tone light and airy. 

“Oh my God, are you Min Y/N?” She inquired. 

You flashed your eyes to her, answering with furrowed eyebrows. “Uh, Kim Y/N now, but yes.” 

“Wow, so you’re the woman Kim Taehyung married?” The other one perked up. 

“..Yes.” You answered confused.  

The other woman really scoffed here, scoffed, “Song-i, it’s the other way around. She married him.” The rather rude looking woman clarified, and you found out right after just how rude she was. “The Kim Taehyung would never willingly marry someone like her.” 

Your expression immediately contorted, unbelieving of her audacity. “Excuse me?” 

“Don’t think we’re stupid, everyone knows you seduced him into it.” She nearly spat, tone snobby as ever. 

You guffawed humourlessly, truly having it up to here with today because it seemed never-ending with bullshit. “Think what you want, but I didn’t seduce him.” 

“We know you’re lying, he wouldn’t marry some runaway like you. You came out of nowhere, you clearly got into his bed before you got him to the altar.” The other one added on, painting their twisted narrative together. 

“It wasn’t like that all, but if you want to think so because you’re not the one he takes home at night, then be my fucking guest.” You countered them, look sharp enough you were sure you could cut a diamond. 

They both took immediate offence, having the audacity to near you and invade your personal space. “You’re not the only woman he’s taken home, do you really think you’re special?” She insinuated something you weren’t dumb enough to not catch, heart sinking at the thought. 

“What exactly are you trying to get at?” 

“The fact that he married you as a favour, you runaway, and everyone knows your marriage isn’t love at all.” She relayed with a snippy tone. “Don’t you get you’re just charity to him? Everyone knows it, sweetie.” 

You were trying hard to think of a way to counter, though your stinging heart took the jab like it was white hot lightning. You felt crushed within seconds at the comment hitting home, sinking lower until you spoke up. 

“Our marriage isn’t your business. Maybe try getting a life before you revolve it around mine.” You spat as you sent them a petty look, making your way out and almost exiting until you felt a splash of water hitting the back of your hair, mouth falling agape at the sheer audacity of what just fucking happened. 

“Your life is fucking miserable. You’ll stay by his side but he’ll never love you. Keep acting like your his real wife and see what’ll happen. Everyone hates you and how you made him marry you out of pity. Watch your back, runaway, you never know when he might end it all and break your little heart.” You almost, almost turned around to land a right hook across the girl’s face until you decided against it, composing yourself with a breathing mantra and instead choosing your favourite way of leaving a bad situation. 

With a snarky last word. 

“Seems he’s already broken yours with this ring, huh? Stay mad at the ring bitches, stay mad at the ring.” You smiled condescendingly as you flaunted Taehyung’s twelve thousand dollar ring, walking out of the bathroom despite their exclamations and practically marching towards the hall, seething. 

You arrived inside and plopped down on your seat next to Taehyung bitterly, utterly vexed as you crossed your arms and grinded your teeth. 

“Hey, where were you?” Taehyung asked. “You missed the toast.” 

“Could’ve done it without me anyway.” You replied curtly, all the information you received in just 2 minutes ruling your thoughts and sending you into a storm of anger, spoiling your mood. 

Taehyung became confused. “Are you okay? What happened?”

“Nothing.” You huffed and reached for your glass of water, taking a large swig and nearly slamming it back onto the table. 

Taehyung reacted surprised. “Seriously, what’s wrong?” He became apprehensive of your mood, grabbing your hand on the table gently as he searched for your eyes. 

Though he instead found your eyes flashing towards something else, someone else before you snatched your hand away, eyes set cold.  

“I said nothing.” 

Taehyung followed your previous line of sight and landed on two women finding their seats a few tables away, their own eyes immediately deflecting from him once he made eye contact.

And it really only took two seconds for Taehyung to connect the dots, recognizing their faces. 

Taehyung sighed heavily, feeling guilty and suddenly apologetic about the possible situation, knowing something must have been said to you. 

He turned back around, “Y/N, what happened?” He tried inquiring again, though you responded with absolutely nothing, completely crossed and avoiding him. 

He exhaled tiredly, this day having been the epitome of a joke. Taehyung was scanning over you again when he suddenly noticed the ends of your hair, distinguishing they were wet and he found it strange. “Y/N, why the fuck is your hair wet?” He was moving to touch the damp parts until you evaded him, tone rigid. 

“Nothing, Taehyung.” 

Taehyung sighed again, frustrated as he once again put two-and-two together, remembering you’d all come from the restroom and addressed you. “What did they say, Y/N? Tell me right now, is that why your hair’s wet?” 

“No, Taehyung, nothing happened,” You stressed, turning your body even further away from him and crossing your arms tighter. 

Taehyung determined he’s truly had enough of today and rose from his seat, you noticing though choosing to ignore him. Taehyung quickly resolved he was going to fix this, beyond agitated this entire day had been damned to hell. He was having a good time too, especially keeping in mind whatever in God’s name was happening between you two, and only knowing that it made him inexplicably happy for some reason. 

Though that mood was ruined now, Taehyung shaking away his thoughts as he began plotting his approach towards your situation, entirely pissed off as he made his way towards the bar, concocting his plan. 

It took Taehyung only a good 10 minutes to get what he needed, snatching the nicest bottle of champagne and trying to remember where he’d observed the two women sitting, strolling his way over to the table with his fakest grin.  

“Good evening, ladies.” He greeted with a saccharine tone as he neared them. 

“Oh my God, Taehyung!” One of the girls beamed. “We haven’t seen you so long, what are you doing here?” 

“Yeah, too long!” 

“It has.” Taehyung smiled. “I actually wanted to offer this.” Taehyung then revealed the bottle of champagne from behind his back, holding it out towards them. 

The two women became elated, practically cheering as they clearly admired Taehyung more than he liked. “Oh wow! Thank you so much!” One of them thanked, receiving the bottle bashfully. 

“You’re too kind, Taehyung, did you really get this for us?” The other inquired, a bright smile on her face. 

“Actually, I didn’t.” 

Both women looked at each other confused, eyebrows furrowed. “You.. didn’t?” 

“No,” Taehyung responded with a bleak expression in near offence they’d assume that, smile wiped from his face. “You both did.”

“Wh-what?” They both questioned, incredulous. 

“I put it on your tabs, geniuses. There’s 6 more bottles, by the way.” 

Both women’s eyes went wide, immediately protesting. “T-this is the most expensive bottle of champagne here!” They looked annoyed, and Taehyung was all about it.  

“I know.” Taehyung smiled condescendingly, drawing closer to the women and dropping his tone to a scarily low, threatening octave. 

“Say anything to my wife again and I’ll make sure you pay more.” Taehyung finalized and rubbed his tongue along the inside of his cheek as he walked away, smirking. He ignored their protests as he passed by the bartender, winking for the 6 other bottles of champagne to be delivered to them. 

Taehyung then made his way to you, now in a hurry to leave this awful night behind as he gently gripped your arm, speaking into your ear to not alert anyone else at the table. “Y/N, we’re leaving.”��

Taehyung didn’t really have to wait, you responding rapidly, “Don’t have to tell me twice.” You were already rising from your seat, done with this entire Godforsaken night yourself. 

You both stepped away together, just about reaching the hall doors until Taehyung stopped you in front, holding you by your arms. “Stay here, I’ll get your coat.” 

You nodded at him and Taehyung bolted off, wanting to nab your coat as fast as possible so he could drape it around you and practically flaunt your relationship in front of everyone. He didn’t care if it was fake anymore, didn’t care for the legitimacy of his actions; he simply wanted the world to know you’re his wife, purposely wanted those two girls and everyone to see him treating you affectionately.

And he most certainly wanted to squash any of the doubt Hisung called attention to earlier that kept bugging him, entailing your marriage already seeming fake to him, and could to multiple other people.  

So he retrieved the coats and came rushing back to you, having worn his as he approached you. You almost reached out for your coat until Taehyung halted you. 

“Don’t, I’m putting it on you.” He rounded the coat around your body, helping your arms into the sleeves. He pulled it snug around you and held onto the ends where it should’ve been buttoned, taking a moment to think. 

Taehyung simply gazed at you, licking his lips contemplating what more he could do in this moment that would be convincing enough, knowing there had to be people watching you two right now. 

He realized he was staring without having said anything. “Sorry, I’m trying to think of something to do for everyone watching but I don’t know what.” Taehyung flashed to your lips and his mind explored the idea, though ultimately fought against it. 

“People are watching?” You inquired.

“Yeah,” Taehyung clutched onto your jacket, trying to think as he looked at your little bundled up self. 

“But I’m not sure what to do-” Taehyung was cut off by you suddenly grabbing his tie and crashing your lips onto his in a single second. 

Taehyung’s eyes blew out, taken by surprise until he found himself quickly melting into your kiss, hands gripping your jacket tighter. He couldn’t help himself from opening up his mouth to catch more of yours, lips sensually kissing yours in a slow, unhurried pace. 

You instantly loved the way he kissed, Taehyung somehow having taken control when you were the one who initiated everything, completely taken by his pillowy, delicate lips. 

Taehyung didn’t care if your lipstick smudged onto him or how brash the public display of affection seemed; all he cared about was the soft feeling of your lips against his own, and the sexy way you wre tugging him by his tie.

He knew it would stay on his mind for weeks. 

You were getting lost until he disconnected your mouths, only looking at each other with undecipherable feelings, shimmering eyes that had no clue what just happened. 

Taehyung smiled before sweeping up your hand in an instant, pulling you out of the hall and eventually outside to quickly sent a text to his driver, guiding you to the curb of the venue. 

He held you against him to keep you warm while walking, suddenly speaking up when something occurred to him. 

“You called me Tae, you know.” 

“What?” 

“My nickname, you called me by it earlier.” Taehyung repeated. 

“Oh, I’m sorry. I just heard your friends say it and it slipped out, I didn’t mean to-”

“Say it all you want.” Taehyung was grinning to himself like an idiot, thinking you weren’t looking at him but that’s exactly what you were doing, admiring the curve of his perfect cupid’s bow with hints of your lipstick smeared on him. “It’s better when you say it.” 

And now it was your turn to smile like an idiot. 

prev. ↞ || ↠ next  ||  masterlist

tags : @thedarkwinterrose​ @ayujaded​ @couldbeyourlast​ @ladyarmanto​ @anpanman-sonyeondan​ @apollukee​ @blueevelvt​ @taesluttt​ @scalubera​ @laurynne5​ @dreamsindreamss​ @thequeen-kat​ @awsome-small-k​ @wrecklesssly​ @kweenhu​ @jalexad​ @staerify​ @bangforever​ @dyriddle​ @aianloveseven​ @waves-and-woods​ @hoefortaeshands​ @veronawrites​ @nightapple4jk​ @wataemelonz​ @aomi-nabi​ @katbonv​ @hantaev​ @jinpuddin​ @usamizuki​ @wooya1224​ @bambuzlee​ @jenotation​ @tangledsparkles​ @pcyxljh​ @forbts-only​ @dumplingley​ @ccmemoirs​ @kleritata​ @thelilbutifulthings​ @maygem2780​ @lachimolala95​ @betysotelo18​ @prettycoolting​ @opaljm​ @jeonlovers​ @honeyboocal​ @preciouschimine​ 

[volleychumps]

Requesting cheating angst with Kuroo, Iwaizumi, Akaashi, and Atsumu? Rip my heart apart please😌😌♥️

oH SHIT let’s do a remix on the fluff for this one post, everybody- I’m in an angsty mood so uh, eskettit :( I couldn’t make it past Akaashi’s scenario and I had so many breaks, so proceed at your own risk, everyone! 

Turn and Keep Going. (Kuroo, Iwaizumi, and Akaashi) - angst -

TW: CHEATING, CURSING, ANGST- no fr I ugly cried and I wrote it

Kuroo

“Y/N. Where do you keep the extra towels again?”

You didn’t mean to see it. In fact, if you had the choice on whether or not you did- 

you would have chosen not to. 

The phone in your hand became tightened in an iron-clad grip as a chuckle with a nervous tinge to it slipped Kuroo’s mouth, and the world seemed to drown out for a moment. As if the world around you submerged into the water of the sea, where everything you could hear was jumbled as a strange heat flooded your vision, choking your lungs with the salt of the ocean. 

“Y/N?” The garbled voice was questioning now as your eyes stayed glued to the screen, of the naked set of breasts and invites, even worse- 

the accepting replies. 

That was all it took for you to flinch away from the hand that Kuroo had carefully set on your back hunched over the device, the towel he had been using to dry off his hair falling to the floor in a heap of material as the raven-haired boy finally entered your bedroom from his post-practice shower. 

Still, the phone remained tightened in your hand so tight to the point where your knuckles were turning white. 

“Why are you going through my phone?” The accusatory edge to Kuroo’s voice had risen, and so did you to your feet, the device hitting the floor next to the towel as you fight to keep your head afloat.

“How long?” Your voice cracked, no matter how hard you fought the breaking feeling spreading across your chest as Kuroo seemed to still completely, and you didn’t need to look at him fully in the face to know how utterly guilty he looked. 

“W-What do you-?” 

“Don’t.” Your voice was soft, refusing to meet the captain’s eyes now, not knowing just who was standing in your room. 

Not knowing just who was the man now holding your face in his hands, urging you to look at him with his own flood falling on his cheeks as his words remained garbled. Still, you let him. 

“Baby. Kitten-fuck. I don’t know what you think you saw, but I love you! I wasn’t completely there when I-” 

“Fucked her?” Your voice hadn’t risen, eyes glazed over in a haze as Kuroo’s voice hitched. 

“No. Nononono- Y/N, kitten-” 

“T-Tetsurou?” The name felt foreign on your tongue as your head finally rose to meet his, willing everything inside you to hold it back as Kuroo held you tighter, as if his arms would salvage what was falling apart. 

“Get out.” 

“Y/N. Please.” His voice fell to a whisper- 

and the dam broke. 

“I SAID GET THE HELL OUT.” You screamed, falling to your knees as your arms wrapped around yourself, knowing you were all you had in the world at the moment. You saw his legs approach you, before hesitating and turning the other way, clenched fists creating bloody marks in his hands from his fingernails as he complied. 

“And Tetsurou.” You spat just as his legs stall in the doorway, watching as Kuroo’s feral and playful eyes that once painted every edge of your universe seemed to be fighting to remain stable. The captain heard those words, and couldn’t fight the sobs beginning to wreck his body as the voice he loved echoed in his ears with parting words- 

Your voice didn’t crack this time. 

“Don’t come back.” 

Iwaizumi

“She’s a nobody.” 

You jump at the sound of the voice, humorless chuckle slipping your lips as Iwa steps to your side, dark eyes looking tired and void of any light that might had once lit up his dark irises. You look out at the landscape, still looking straight forward as the ace settles next to you, hanging his forearm across his bent knee. 

“How did you find me?” 

“It’s been two years. I know you, Y/N.” Iwaizumi’s eyes bore into your side profile, and more sarcastic giggles make their way past your lips as you hug your knees to your chest, jabbing him where it hurts. 

“Funny. I really thought I knew you, Hajime-” 

“Don’t you start with that shit.”

You lazily finally meet Iwa’s eyes, causing the ace to feel the lump growing in his throat at the amount of light drained from the look of them, mirroring his own. Iwa moistens his lips, trying to get his head back on track as the heat tinges at the sides of his eyes. 

“We love each other, don’t we?” 

“Yeah. We did.” 

Iwa flinches at the past-tense term, feeling his breathing hollow out at the sound of it. 

“We must’ve at some point, right?” All cried-out, you watch the sun seem to slowly sink into the horizon in a mix of color as your eyes soak in its’ prettiness, as if the light from the sun would somehow bring the gleam back to your eyes-

but every time you closed them, all you saw was Iwaizumi fiercely kissing another girl in the passenger seat of her car, fist clenched in her hair as he kissed her with anger from the fight he had with you-

“You do. You love me.” The denial sunk in as you laugh. And you laugh some more as if that were the most idiotic thing in the world. “And I love you, Y/N- princess, we can make this work and get through this-!” 

“I don’t want to, though.” You cut him off, drawing circles in the dirt as you remember the nights teasing Iwa for showing too little emotion- not knowing that the most you would get out of him would be after he stuck his tongue down another girl’s throat. 

“Don’t you get that?” You shake your head, smiling as if you can’t believe it, shoving Iwa’s attempt of holding you off of you as you raise to your feet, soaking in the colors as they fade to a more dark color palate. 

“I don’t give a fuck about some nobody, don’t you get that?!” Iwa’s on his feet now too, and you finally begin to crack as you look out to the horizon, a familiar heat flooding your vision as you smile. 

“Hey, Hajime.” You ignore his cry, prompting the dark-haired boy to look in the same direction you were. “This is where it all started, didn’t it? Where you kissed me, and promised that you would always protect me, right?” 

Iwa’s own eyes brim with frustration as the stinging heat from earlier takes over, feeling the mix of regret and heartbreak begin to settle in as you turn and give him a smile. No sarcastic intention behind it as you close your eyes, Iwa’s eyes widening at the sight of something he’d never get to see again. 

“I guess you really don’t know me, after all.” You smile to the point where its’ painful, spinning on your heel. “I came because I knew you’d find me, not to fix whatever this is, but-” 

You’re turned around now, the sun fading into night as you will your legs to keep walking. 

“To say goodbye to you, Hajime.” 

And so, the dark-haired ace watched as you walked off into the distance and out of his life for a problem he created, yells of frustration enclosed in his throat and the need to punch something ever-so prevalent- 

as the sky above now swirled with dark pigment. 

Akaashi

“Don’t. Don’t go, please.” 

“Keiji, let go.” You tug your arm in an attempt to make the messy-haired boy release you, trembling when he pulls you into his chest, burying his head in your neck as the hot tears hit your skin, prompting you to bite your lip and fight the urge to hold him back as your own eyes burn. If he wouldn’t let you go, then-

You can’t help the vicious words from slipping. “She’s waiting, you should go to her, shouldn’t you?” 

“Stop. D-Don’t say that-” 

“Am I wrong?” Your voice remains stable to your surprise, causing Akaashi to tighten his hold on you even more. “The girl who came out after you in your shower...who is she?” 

“No one! No one, Y/N, you were so far for so long, and-” 

“And what?” You question emotionlessly. “You have needs? You were lonely? Cut the bullshit.” 

“Do you know what it’s been like?” Akaashi’s voice is soft with an angry edge as he pulls back, still holding you in his arms as if to keep you there for an eternity, and for a minute, time does stop- 

and you soak in the reality. Life tore you two apart, distanced yet together, far away yet still part of the same relationship. The blue-eyed boy would never be able to rewind the clock and keep you as his no matter what life hurled- 

“Let go.” 

“Fuck if I do.” 

Your strong exterior begins to crumble as Akaashi watches with now widened eyes as the viciousness drains only to be replaced with sorrow, relief filling his heart when you hold him back just as tightly, your chin resting on his shoulder as your grateful he won’t be able to see what kind of expression crosses your features. 

“Keiji.” You whisper almost child-like, causing Akaashi’s heart to swell with hope until the next words make his heart stop. 

“Eat healthy, will you? I know Bokuto likes to drag you around to all these places, but too much ramen isn’t good for you-” 

“Y/N?” 

“And please, for god sakes, make sure you remember to pick up your suit from the laundromat on Thursdays, I know you’re presentations are usually on Fridays-” 

“Y/N.” 

“Oh, and don’t forget- you always make it a point to drop by Konoha’s for a guy night on the fourth of every month, so don’t drink too much because it gives you a massive migraine in the middle of the night-” 

“Y/N!” 

“And Keiji?” You pull back, corners of your mouth pulled back as you cup his face gently, leaning your forehead against his as Akaashi Keiji freezes in shock as the love of his life, his future, his world- 

Smiles a wordless goodbye, capturing his lips as Akaashi wonders how to turn the hands of time, forcing the laws of nature to bend for his selfish desires as his arms slacken- 

“Be happy.” You whisper, retracting your arms and hands before stepping out of his now weak grip, brushing past him with a finality in your steps as time refuses to stop, Akaashi fighting every instinct on forcing you to stay with him- 

letting you go as the hands of time continue to move along with your steps away from him, the setter lifting a hand to his mouth before he falls to his knees and looks up to the sky- 

wishing he had more hours, minutes, and seconds to see that smile for just a bit longer. 

“Yeah. You do the same, love.”

-----------------------------------------

LMAO GO READ SOME OF MY FLUFF IF THIS MADE YOU SAD I’M SORRY 

General works: @takemetovalhalla @kasandrafaye @savemesteeb @dreebbles @yams046

[nastybuckybarnes]

In a Heartbeat  -  Seven

Pairing: Fireman!Bucky X Reader

Summary: You’ve always been careful with your heart. With your condition, you don’t exactly have any other choice. The last time you let someone in, you paid the price. A price you don’t plan on paying again. Until Bucky comes in and shatters your carefully crafted world.

Warnings: Angst, Language, Injuries, Fluff, Fluff, FLUFF

Word Count: 4.1K

A/n: Here she is! Part seven! I’m gonna write a little epilogue but the fic can very well end here! I love this series with my whole heart and soul omg

Series Masterlist

~*~

He’s numb.

So damn numb.

Nothing even matters. His ears are ringing, the bright lights bouncing off the linoleum floors are fucking with his eyes but he doesn’t care because you’ve been in the operating room for hours and all he wants is to see you, to make sure you’re okay.

No one’s said a single thing to him about whether or not you’re okay, and it’s taking all of his self-control not to break down that door and see for himself.

A heavy hand lands on his shoulder, jolting him from his thoughts and bringing him back to the loud sounds of the waiting room.

He furrows his brows at Steve, confused out of his mind until he sees Tommy in his other arm, head resting against his father's shoulder and a casted arm hanging limply at his side.

“Hey Tommy, how you feeling?” The brunet asks, his voice rough and hoarse with lack of use.

The six-year-old only whimpers softly in response, burrowing further into his father’s neck.

“He’s okay. Doctor’s got him on some painkillers. Said it was a clean break from pounding on that window.” Bucky stands up, rubbing his nephew on the back. “You’re a hero, buddy. Just like your daddy.” Tommy sniffles and nods, the sight breaking the man’s heart.

“You should head home for the night, Buck. Shower, rest, then come back in the morning.” He clenches his jaw and swallows hard, shaking his head.

“I-I can’t, Steve. What if... what if she comes out and I’m not here? Or what if...” He trails off, not even wanting to entertain the idea of the other option.

“I saw Nat on her way down here. Ask her for an update and then go home. You’ve had a long day. And when she’s out of surgery she's gonna be upset to see that you’ve exhausted yourself out here in the waiting room.” Steve has a point. Both men are still in their fire gear, having rushed to the hospital directly from the fire.

It’s after midnight now.

“I’m taking Tommy home. Take care of yourself tonight, Buck. If not for you, then for her.” He nods, eyes on the floor as the blond leaves, his son curled up against his side.

“Barnes? You’re still here?” He looks up at the sound of Natasha’s voice, desperation evident on his face as she walks over to him.

“I’ve got no update other than she’s unstable and that they’re doing everything they can. It’ll be another few hours before she’s out of surgery and even then, she’s going straight to the ICU and won’t be awake for at least a day or so.” He lets out a terribly shaky breath but nods, rubbing his eyes then pinching the bridge of his nose.

“Y-you’ll call if there are any updates, right? I’m just gonna pop home and shower and sleep for a few hours but I'll be back first thing in the morning.” She nods, taking his hand and squeezing tightly.

“I’m off for the rest of the night, so I’ll be sticking around bugging the nurses for updates whenever I can. Might even bribe an intern with good coffee, not this hospital shit.” Bucky chuckles softly, shaking his head.

“Okay.” He takes a step towards the exit then hesitates, looking back at the redhead for a. moment. “Do you think she’s gonna make it?” He asks, his voice soft and broken and nearly lost among the sea of people.

Natasha swallows hard and avoids his eyes, taking a deep breath before answering.

“The doctors are doing everything they can.” A rehearsed answer. An answer she gives to relatives to let them know that they shouldn’t expect much.

He says nothing, only gives her a firm nod, then turns and leaves the hospital.

Hot droplets of water rain down on him, washing away the stench of smoke and the physical reminder of the events of the day. But no heat and no water pressure will wash away the sorrow in his soul. The absolute unadulterated fear that grips his bones and seeps into his bloodstream. That is something that won’t be washed away by any amount of water and suds.

His movements are mechanical, scrub, rinse, dry, dress.

The sleep that finds him is restless and fitful, filled with nightmares that will haunt him for nights to come. Every thought, both waking and otherwise, are occupied by you. Your face, your smile, your laugh, and the thought that he may never experience any of them again.

He's back at the hospital at six-thirty, coffee in his metal hand because his flesh one is shaking too much.

Just as he’s walking to the reception desk, he sees Natasha walking towards the waiting room. Her face is unreadable when she sees him, but he notices her take a deep breath.

“What is it?” He asks, not bothering with pleasantries.

“She’s out of surgery. She’s still unstable, hasn’t woken up yet, but she’s been out for about three hours. She probably won’t wake up until this evening.” He takes a few deep breaths then nods, a bubble of relief hugging him tenderly.

“Where is she?” Nat sighs and turns on her heel, leading him towards your room.

“James, I’m not going to sugar coat this for you. She’s not doing well. There’s still a fair chance that she won’t wake up.” She stops, looking up at him with vulnerability in her eyes, tears brimming.

“What is it?” He’s nervous, his heart feels like it’s going to explode.

“They’re saying she needs a transplant. That her heart won’t last for much longer and if she wants any hope of surviving more than a couple years, she’ll need a new heart.”

The air leaves his lungs in a whoosh, almost as if someone punched him in the gut. He stumbles back a step, coffee dropped and hands coming to the tops of his thighs as he hunches over, trying to catch his breath.

“That’s a best-case scenario. Worst case is she... well... we should’ve said our goodbyes. But she’s strong. She’ll pull through. She has to pull through.” That last part is whispered so softly that the brunet almost misses it.

“Nat,” his voice breaks, it cracks and splinters and shatters in pieces on the linoleum that he doesn’t have the energy to pick up. He can’t pick himself back up. Not if you might not wake up. He just can’t.

“Sit down, c’mon.” She helps him lean back against the wall, sliding down until he’s seated, arms draped over his knees and his head hanging heavily between them.

He can’t breathe.

A sick voice in his head screams that this is what you must’ve been feeling, this terrible tightness in your chest, this inability to draw in a single damn breath. It’s unbearable and for just a moment he realizes he wouldn’t blame you if you gave up, if you just let it take you. But he shakes that thought from his head and instead focuses on you fighting. You need to fight. If you can pull through, then they can find you a new heart and you’ll be okay.

You’re going to be okay.

You have to be okay.

~*~

Everything feels still. Dry. Bland.

If you could pin it to a colour, that colour would be beige.

Everything feels beige.

You’ve been awake for a little while now, gathering your bearings and trying to remember what happened. The last thing you remember is the fire bell... Wanda telling you not to go... and then running back into the building to find Tommy.

Tommy.

Your heart picks up in speed, pain flaring through your chest at the action, and an alarm starts beeping rapidly.

It takes only seconds for the door to open, nurses and doctors flooding into the room and checking the various machines around you while you grab at the front of your hospital gown uselessly, trying to alleviate the pain.

“(Y/n), I need you to take a big breath with me, okay?” A doctor says, her brown eyes focused on yours. You nod, inhaling with her for a moment then exhaling. You do this a few times and the machine gradually stops, your heart slowing as whatever they injected into your bloodstream takes effect.

Nurses slowly trickle out, leaving just you and the doctor.

“Well, you sure know how to make an entrance,” she says with a smile, looking over your chart.

“What can I say, Doc? I’ve got a flair for the dramatic.” Your voice is weak, far weaker than it should be, and that alone scares you.

She chuckles softly, smiling at your words before tucking the chart under her arm and looking at you straight on.

“You being alive right now is an absolute miracle,” she says softly, taking a step towards the bed then motioning to the chair beside it, asking wordlessly if she can take a seat.

You nod, taking a few deep breaths as you prepare to hear whatever news she has for you.

“Your heart stopped twice on the way to the hospital, and the second time we almost couldn’t get it going again. Your heart is weak, and what you endured nearly ruptured your left atrium and you had severe lacerations of your ventricles. It is most comparable to a very severe heart attack, and you’re lucky to have survived.”

She doesn’t look like she’s delivering good news. No, she should be happy if you’re lucky to have survived. That fact alone puts you on edge.

“What is it? What... what’s wrong with my heart now?” You know it can’t be good judging only by the look on her face. It’s a look you’ve seen far too many times.

“With the rate you’re going, your heart will give out completely in three or four years. And it won’t be a pleasant process. You’ll be in pain, bedridden and hospitalized because you won’t be able to move. The only alternative is a transplant.” The world around you shifts from beige to grey, the clouds dark and the room sorrowful.

Your ears start ringing, loud and painfully and it takes everything in you not to rip them right off.

“S-so that’s it then? I’m gonna die in three years if I’m lucky? I’ve only got three years left?” She sighs and looks down at her hands, “the only other option would be to put you on a waiting list for a new heart, but we cannot guarantee that you’ll get it in time, but it’s worth a shot.” You shake your head, tears falling from your eyes and splattering on the ugly blue hospital blanket.

“I don’t want a new heart! I don’t want to go through a process and get my hopes up over something that I won’t get in time.” You sniffle and shove your face in your hands, the steady beeping of the machine next to you making you want to cry even harder.

“I’ll give you some time, (Y/n).” The doctor gets up and leaves, a sad look on her face as she turns to the pair waiting anxiously outside your door.

Natasha pushes herself to her feet, her eyes wide with curiosity and desperation.

“I recommend you give her space. She’s... processing everything,” Doctor Palmer says softly, giving Natasha a sad smile before walking away to handle her other patients.

Nat exchanges looks with Bucky then slowly walks to the door.

“Just give me a minute to see how she’s doing, okay? I’ll tell her you’re out here waiting, I just wanna see if she needs anything.” He takes a deep breath but nods, understanding that Natasha would be able to tell, if only from a medical standpoint, what you need.

You keep your face in your hands, tears wetting your palms, as the door opens again.

“Beans?” Nat’s voice makes you stiffen, sniffling and wiping your eyes before peeking up at her.

Her heart shatters in her chest at the sight of you.

Skin dull, eyes heavy and sunken. She’s seen a lot of sick people before but never would she have put you in the same category as them. Now though? Now, you look the part.

“I uh... I heard the news. Bugged the nurses for updates and they finally caved.”

Your bottom lip wobbles and then a sob bubbles out of your chest.

Nat’s face falls and she slides onto the bed beside you, pulling you into a tight embrace while you sob.

“Oh beans,” she whispers, smoothing your hair away from your face.

“I don’t want a new heart!” You cry, tears soaking her shirt. She hugs you, holds you tightly while you cry out your frustrations, your sorrows.

It’s agony.

She has so many questions, so much she wants to say, but she knows better.

She holds her tongue, wanting you to be in a better headspace before she talks to you about your options. It’s too soon. The wound is too fresh.

Bucky sits impatiently outside of the room the whole time, leg bouncing and flesh fingers trembling.

Natasha comes out of your room a short while later, sniffling and wiping at her cheeks.

“What’s happening? Is she okay?” The redhead nods, taking a few deep breaths.

“I’ve seen a lot of sick people, Barnes. A lot of them. But seeing her... seeing my friend so weak and tiny...” She shakes her head, looking up at him with glossy eyes.

“I’m scared, Buck.” Bucky pulls her into a hug, his own breaths shaking.

“It's okay. It’s gonna be okay.” She sniffles again then speaks, “she’s asleep again. She should be good to see you the next time she wakes up though. I’m sure she misses you.” He squeezes his eyes shut but nods, trying to mentally prepare himself to see you in such a fragile state.

~*~

Bucky doesn’t know how to feel.

He doesn’t even want to feel.

Helpless.

That’s the word that sums it up the best.

Seeing you on that hospital bed, tubes attached to your face, arms, and chest, he feels absolutely helpless.

“Hey,” he murmurs, smiling gently when you look up from your book.

“Bucky... Hi.” Your voice is raspy and hoarse, and he has to take a few shaky breaths to stop from crying.

“You mind if I sit?” You shake your head, motioning to the chair beside your bed.

He takes a seat and looks at you closely, his eyes welling up with tears.

“How ya feelin, pretty girl?” You huff a breath out through your nose then shrug, trying your hardest to stay strong in front of him.

“I uh... I’ve been better, I gotta say.” He chuckles weakly then nods, sniffling and dropping his gaze for a moment.

“Nat uh... Nat told me what the doctors said. About your heart and stuff. That’s... intense.” It’s not the best word but it’s the only one he can find.

You blow a breath out through your mouth and nod.

“It’s scary,” you whisper, not looking up from your hands even when he takes them in his.

“I’m scared. I don’t want to be put on a waiting list only to not get one in time. And there are people who need a new heart more than I do. People who want one more than I do.” He furrows his brows and cocks his head to the side in confusion.

“What do you mean, you don’t want a new heart? Why wouldn’t you want one?”

You sigh heavily, “because, James. This is my heart. It’s the heart that I’ve lived with for my whole life. I don’t want a new one because this one is mine. This is the one that’s dealt with heartbreaks and betrayals. This is the one that’s gotten me through the bad days and the good. And this is the one that chose you. I don’t want a different one. I wanna keep this one. And don’t you dare tell me that my days are numbered if I keep this one because my days are numbered regardless.”

You finally look up at him, fire in your eyes as you express everything that’s been going on in your mind.

“We’re all gonna die someday, and it may not be the way we expect or the way we want, and we won’t ever be fully ready for it. But it’s gonna happen. I’d much rather know that I spent my life doing what I wanted on my terms. If my days are numbered, I'd rather enjoy them than spend them waiting for a heart I may never get. My heart’s still got a few years left in it. Careful years, yeah, but years no less.”

Tears stain his cheeks and he nods, sniffling twice then pressing a kiss to your hands.

“I’m not going to try and change your mind, Doll. The choice is completely yours and no matter what you decide to do, I’ll stay by your side through all of it, I promise. You’re my girl, my best girl, my only girl, and I want you to do what’s best for you.” You squeeze your eyes shut, having mentally prepared yourself for him to put up a fight, not for him to be so supportive of your decision.

“I love you, (Y/n). And I’m gonna cherish every fucking moment that you let me spend with you because I love you. I thought,” he pauses, pulling a hand back to scrub the tears off of his cheeks only for more to fall.

“I thought I’d lose you before getting a chance to truly tell you. But I’m not gonna waste any more time because life is a precious gift. I love you, (Y/n). So much. To the fucking ends of the Earth. I love you and I don't want a day to go by where you don’t know just how much I love you.”

You whimper, his confession making warmth spread through your body and tears rain down your cheeks.

“I-I love you too, James. With every ounce of my heart, I love you. And I don't want to let you down and I never want to hurt you.” He closes his eyes, content to bask in the weight of your words for a moment longer, a private, intimate moment.

He eventually settles his head on the bed next to your hip, and your fingers find their way into his luscious brown locks, twirling the thick strands around mindlessly.

“When are you getting discharged?” He asks, his voice muffled by the bed.

“I’m not sure yet. Doctor Palmer said she wants to keep me here for at least another week or so to monitor my heart and take me off the medication, and then maybe some more time after that depending on how weak I am.” He nods, nuzzling against you some more.

“I’m not going back to work ‘till you’re out,” he says matter-of-factly.

You only giggle, shaking your head.

“James, that’s not even plausible. You’ve got bills to pay. Besides, you’ll get tired of being here. I’m gonna spend most of my time sleeping or bugging the nurses for some real food.” He lifts his head, eyes full of vulnerability.

“I just don't wanna leave you and then...” He trails off but you understand his concern.

“I’m gonna be okay. Doctor Palmer says I’m doing okay. I’m sure Nat will continue bugging her for updates and she’ll let you know if there’s anything concerning happening. But I’m gonna be fine, I swear.” He watches you for a moment longer before nodding and pressing his head against your thigh.

A thought bubbles into your mind and you tug gently on his hair to get his attention.

“What happened to Tommy?” You ask, voice tight and filled with apprehension.

Bucky only smiles gently.

“Lil guy’s a hero. He busted that window open, that’s how we found you two. Broke his arm but he’s okay. Says he looks like me so he likes it.” A smile finds its way onto your face at the idea of Tommy looking up to his uncle so much.

“He’s already gotten everyone at the firehouse to sign it, and I’m sure when he’s back to school he’ll get everyone there to sign it too. But the lil guy’s a hero. Gonna make a good firefighter.” You nod, mind flashing back to those last few moments in the school.

“I was so scared, James. I-I couldn’t protect him and I didn’t know what to do.” He reaches up and strokes your cheek gently, shushing you softly.

“It’s okay, pretty girl. It’s okay. Everyone’s okay.” You take a few deep breaths and nod, trying to calm down before your heart rate picks up too much.

“You need to worry about yourself, and not everyone else. Focus on getting better, okay? And then, when you’re ready, I’m gonna take you out on a date and show you just how much you can enjoy life, okay?”

You nod, smiling at him.

“Okay.”

~*~

“Miss (Y/l/n)!” Tommy runs at you full speed, nearly knocking you over when he barrels into your legs.

Bucky’s quick to steady you, opening his mouth to reprimand his nephew but you stop him, raising a hand to cut him off.

“Hey, Tommy! How’s my little superhero feeling?” He pulls back and smiles up at you.

“I got another cast so now my arm looks just like uncle Bucky’s!” You glance at the new blue cast and smile brightly.

“Look at that! And you’re a hero just like him too, huh?” He nods excitedly then digs around in his pocket for a moment.

“Here!” He hands you a sharpie then points to a blank space on his cast.

“I made sure to leave room for you to sign it!” Your face softens and you crouch down in front of him, signing your name and drawing a small picture.

“Thank you, Tommy.” He nods, glancing over his shoulder as his dad calls his name.

“C’mon Tommy! You gonna help us move or are you gonna help miss (Y/l/n) get organized?” He looks between you and his dad then runs over to the moving truck, excitedly grabbing whatever his little arms can carry then bringing them into the house.

Bucky wraps an arm around your waist and presses a soft kiss to your temple.

“You ready?” You look up at your new house, then over at him, nodding without hesitation.

“Absolutely.”

The moving process is long and tedious, and after seven hours of lifting, unboxing, cleaning, and organizing, you’re about ready to call it a day.

“Pizza’s on its way, and Nat ran out to grab some beers,” Bucky says, coming up into the master bedroom. Concern immediately colours his features as he sees the way you’re sitting. You’re on the bed, hunched over with one hand on your mouth and the other on your lower abdomen.

“(Y/n)?” He asks, coming to a crouch in front of you and trying to get a look at your face.

You take a few deep breaths then nod, opening your eyes and offering him a weak smile.

“You okay?” You nod again but he seems unconvinced.

“What’s wrong? Are you okay?” You take a deep breath and reach for his hand, squeezing it gently.

“I uh.. not really. I wanted to tell you in a better way but I guess this is as good as it’s going to get.” His heart is in his throat, absolutely terrified of what you’re going to tell him.

You’ve been going to the doctor a lot more frequently, and your energy levels have plummeted.

He knew you didn’t have time left but it hasn’t even been six months since the fire.

You pull his hand to your stomach and rest it there gently, eyes finding his as you wait for it to click.

He stares at his hand in confusion, that confusion melting away as he realizes what you’re telling him.

“Wait, are you...?”  His eyes are wide, eyebrows raised and heart pounding.

You only nod, tears welling up in your eyes as he launches up and wraps his arms around your frame.

“Oh my god. Oh my god! I’m gonna be a dad!” You giggle wetly, tears of joy falling and getting soaked up by his shirt.

“We’re gonna have a baby.” He pulls back, hands on your small baby bump.

“How far along are you?” He asks, cradling the bump delicately between his hands.

“About three months. And the doctor said that they’ve already got a birth plan ready, and different pills for me to take to calm my heart.” His glossy eyes look up at you, so full of love and adoration.

“I can’t believe it. I...” he stops, leaning in the gently kiss your lips then pulls you into another tight embrace.

“Thank you, (Y/n). Thank you.”

[writefightandflightclub]

I see you (Din Djarin x GN reader)

Summary: Din is hurting, don’t look at him. No REALLY, DON’T LOOK AT HIM.

Genre: Angst / fluff + hurt / comfort.

Author’s note: This takes place after the events of Chapter 15, therefore SPOILERS if you keep reading!

Of course, I don’t know what will ACTUALLY happens in the rest of the series, but in this version, Din + Reader + Grogu are safe on a spaceship after Those Events Happened in Ch14, and after THAT happened on Moskar in Ch15 (reader was present on Moskar). Din is dealing with some trauma following That Event.

I wrote this in one go in a tired yet enthusiastic frenzy after watching. I didn’t want to spend ages on it... but I hope that it’s coherent and that you like it!

Warnings: nightmares, angst but it turns out okay. Final warning: spoilers for S2 esp. chapter 14 and 15. Meant to be GN but not sure if the Mando’a confuses that. Pls forgive.

GIF: a non-chapter-specific adorable GIF so that I’m not spewing spoilers onto my dash. By @calsblueponcho​

You hear him stir again. For the third night in a row.

You hear his groans start to build from within the cot opposite you - the sound wrung from his chest and strangled in his throat. You hear him thrashing, limbs and elbows and whatever part of him clunking against the walls of the narrow sleep space, the sounds tinny from within his metal box; like usual.

Metal between you and him.

Finally, you hear the shush of the door as he clambers out of bed, and you hear ragged breaths sawing in and out of him. You hear the weight of his blankets pool on to the floor as he throws them off with a grunt, and his bare feet making contact with the metal floor.

Now, his sounds are not tinny. They are organic. There are no layers of metal between you any longer. Now, only the darkness separates you from him. Only the darkness separates him from the knowledge you hold; that he is afraid.

You hold still. You stay quiet, as Din completes his now nightly ritual - as if the man needed any more rituals. Your heart breaks for him.

Each night now, he awakes in fear, and he throws off his blankets. You have no doubt that if you scooped them from the floor they would be warm and damp with sweat - the whole space is tinged with the odour of roused panic. Each night now, he shuffles hastily towards the foundling’s pram to see for himself that Grogu is safe and here, with him. As usual -you expect- the small child is sleeping soundly, despite what he has been through. Perhaps because of it. He knows now that no matter what happens, his father will keep him safe.

Each night now, as you lie in the dark, pretending to be asleep after his distress has awoken you, Din hovers over your bed for a moment, drawing in a gasp of a breath as if he might speak or plead for help; however, each night it is the same, and no words ever come. Each night he then breaks free of this hot, enclosing space and his suffocating sleep, and you hear his footsteps recede, heading in the direction of the cool, more open cockpit.

This time, though, when he tugs in a breath to speak, you do not pretend to be asleep.This man does not need any more rituals which hurt him, you think. You will help him to break this one.

“Din,” you breathe softly, turning your body towards where he stands, even though you cannot see him. Only because you cannot see him. There is no metal between him now, and you are determined not to look. 

Although he stays silent, you can guess at the tension in him. You can sense his stillness and hear his short, sharp breaths. If he was armoured, his pain would be sounding out. Gloves creaking around his balling fists, his clunky boots tapping agitatedly on the floor. Unarmoured, his pain is in stealth mode. Unarmoured, he is entirely more vulnerable to it. You imagine him stripped down -in all ways, unprotected- and your heart breaks for him.

You desperately want to lay your body over him; become his armour.

Din had almost lost it all, and even after what he had gotten back, he had still lost too much to bear.

He had done it all for the child.

It had been worth it.

But that didn’t mean it wasn’t heavy to bear. 

He still doesn’t speak, his pain in stealth mode, and so, you shift and swivel on your cot until you are sitting on the edge of it.

“Din,” you repeat, and your hand somehow finds his in the dark, your eyes deciphering the shifting shadows enough to reach for him, and immediately his fingers close tightly around yours, as if they had been searching for a hand to hold.

His hand is clammy, slick with panic.

“Did you have a nightmare?” You ask, not even venturing your gaze up towards his shrouded face, out of respect.You have nothing but respect for him.

“Yes,” he states, and even with one word his voice cuts through the dark and splits your chest like you have been struck with a spear of beskar. Because of the pain in it, yes. But also because there are no layers between you. No vocoder. No metal. His voice is warm and deep and robust like this, and it splits you apart. “Sorry. If I woke you.”

His fingers grip yours a little more tightly, but before you can return the favour, he quickly snatches his hand away. “Try and go back to sleep.”

“I couldn’t sleep anyway,” you lie. “Would you like some root tea? Maybe we can have a cup and both of us can try again.”

If Din finds you out in this lie he doesn’t let on. You’re a bad liar, and he’s a good judge of truth, so you suppose he can make whatever decision he pleases, this way. But, he merely makes a gruff sound of agreement. “I’ll get my helmet,” he states, and yet you find his hand again and give a gentle tug to stop him.

“It’s okay. Go sit in the cockpit, keep it dark. I’ll make some tea for us, and I won’t look.”

There is a beat, and then he makes another gruff sound of agreement before turning on his heels, efficiently swivelling towards the front of the ship.

You stand, and you take a moment to still the racing of your heart. You take your own gasp of air. You feel the pounding in your chest at this morsel of skin on skin. Your hand in his.

You exhale a long breath, and slowly, quietly, so as not to wake the child, you slip through the darkened ship until you reach the cramped ration store, heating and brewing some tea under a dimmed and hazy cooklight.

You hurry, as all you can think of is Din alone and unprotected, and how much you wish to guard his heart.

When you reach the cockpit, you enter with your eyes down, averted, looking anywhere but at him, and then you enter, a cup of sweet sleep tea in each hand. You can make out his silhouette in your periphery, and, silently, you slot yourself into the co-pilot’s seat beside him, extending the tea for him to take. His fingertips brush yours as he takes it, and you almost jolt and spill the contents.

You calm your breath again, and you allow the darkness to settle around you, a barrier between you and him. The only barrier between you and him, you can’t help but think.

“Thank you,” the Mandalorian states after a moment, his tone dull.

“Don’t thank me until you’ve tasted it,” you warn with a gentle attempt at a smile. “Couldn’t really see what I was doing.”

“No,” Din says, and this time, his hand finds yours in the dark, where it rests on the arm of the co-pilot’s seat.

There goes your heart pounding again.

“I mean... Thank you for looking out for me. And Grogu.”

Oh.

What else would you possibly do?

“Of course, Din, you’re my...” you cut yourself off before you complete the thought. Din is not your family. You’re not his riddur. Grogu is not your child. Even though that’s how it feels. Even though that’s what you want. “You’d do the same for me,” you say, reeling yourself in. That doesn’t sound quite right either, you fluster. To a bounty hunter that must sound transactional. Like he owes you a debt now.

You’re getting it all wrong.

And all you want to do is comfort him. Protect him.

“Din...?” you ask softly, your eyes fixed straight ahead, not looking at him, even though you are desperate to. Even though from the shapes in your periphery, and from the direction of his voice you can tell his head is angled towards you. Even though you feel like he is staring intently at you. Like he sees you, even in the dark.

“Yeah?”

A heat rises in you and you snatch your fingers away from his. Your hand had become clammy. Instead of this heat, you take a sip of your hot tea, both hands wrapped around the ceramic, earthenware vessel.

“You know,” you say, unsure why your voice is shaking. “It might help to talk about it, the nightmare... if you’d like to.”

You hope you haven’t overstepped. Din hasn’t had anyone to open to for a long-time before you, and you know he may not want to- however, he surprises you. 

“I feel selfish,” he states, his words coming to you immediately and freely as if he had been waiting for a kind ear to listen.

“What in the stars..?!” you exclaim, in a shocked whisper, your eyes intent on the night sky through the transparisteel as you summon the stars in your setiment. “You’re the least selfish person I’ve ever met, Din.”

He emits another gruff sound, but this time it is not in agreement.

His pain...

Sweet man.

You are desperate to turn your head towards him in this moment, but you never would. You would not look.

“I keep having this nightmare, as if it’s the worst thing,” Din continues, and you recognise guilt in his tone. “And it’s not about Grogu. It’s not about you and the child and keeping you both safe.”

Your heart thrums again, from the fact he mentions you and the child in the same breath; mentions you alongside his everything.

“What is it about?” you ask gently, your voice barely above a whisper.

Beside you, you hear Din take a long sip of tea, and you don’t rush his words. You have all the time in the world for him. 

“It’s... about my face,” he says solemnly, and even the mere mention of his face has your heart unsure whether it is breaking or racing.

You had known this would take a toll on him. You knew that having to show his face on Morak; to you, to the Imperials, to Mayfield, would haunt him. For a long time. You had tried not to look. You hadn’t looked. And yet, you had still seen him. You had seen him, only for a moment, before you could avert your eyes - hard as it was to look away. 

That moment, though, was long enough to burn the image of him like a brand behind your eyes. His hawkish nose, his brown mop of grizzled hair...

Brown eyes.

Brown eyes as kind as his soul.

He was beautiful, exactly as he was to you already. Exactly as he had been to you before you ever had a hint of what he looked like.

Still, as much as you fell in love with his face the instant you saw it, exactly like you fell in love with his soul the instant you knew it, you wished you could take that moment back. You didn’t want it; not like this. It felt like a violation to even look at him, so can’t imagine how violating it must have felt to be seen.

No wonder he was having nightmares.

Your heart was in pieces for him. How in the stars could he feel he was selfish? It wasn’t as though he needed to prove his love for Grogu, when he had done that to get him back. When he had given everything he held dear.

“I let the kid get taken. I barely got him back alive. You back alive. And I’m dreaming about showing my face. I should be worrying about him. Not myself.”

Only this man could think himself selfish for experiencing a trauma, you could swear.

“It was a trauma, Din,” you state sensitively. “It makes sense that you would have nightmares about it. And... maybe,” you muse. “Do you think it’s possible... you’re not dreaming about the kid because you know he’s safe now? You know he’s back home and we can protect him. But the thing plaguing you... is something that was taken from you. Something you can’t get back?”

You’ve thought about this. You’ve had time to think about every single thing which might have been bothering him and how you might fix it, these past nights. That has become your ritual. To care for him. To notice when he holds Grogu a little tighter, becomes more reluctant to let go of his hand. When he grumbles about the specs of this ship, compared to the Crest. When he waits extra late, until it’s extra dark to remove his helmet these days. When he wakes in the night thrashing and gasping for air.

You can’t change what happened, but you hope you can be there as he heals from it.

Din doesn’t respond rightaway, but he takes a sip of his tea, mulling your words over.

“Do you want to talk more about it?” you ask gently. “About what happened?”

And, Din eventually begins, in a deep, empty rumble, sounding like an engine low on fuel. “They scanned me,” he says, and you can tell from the change in his voice that he has turned away from you - is now looking down at the floor. In your periphery you see his figure hunched over, head hung like a bird.

You want to reach out for him, but you don’t. Not yet.

“It wasn’t only showing my face to them, to you,” he begins, and you have a bitter taste in your mouth not only from his trauma but also from the fact you were any part of it. “They scanned me. My face is in their system. My face is everywhere. In every imperial back-up, all across the galaxy. Not only did I violate the code, but my violation is infinite, eternal. They have my face.” Your face twists in agony on his behalf as he speaks. “You know, I keep waking up, in a panic. Like I did when Grogu was taken... except this time it’s me they stole. They really did steal all of me. I’m not fit to call myself a Mandalorian.”

Tentatively, you do reach out your hand to him now, and you set it on to his shoulder, feeling the subtle heat of his skin through the thin, still damp fabric. You rub small circles there, hoping you can soothe him even a tiny amount. You let his heavy words sink in, before you speak.

“Din, I’m so sorry this happened to you,” you soothe. “I know I can’t fix it. I wish I could. But you should know, that it’s okay to feel this way, and I’m here -and so is Grogu- and we’ll help you however we can.” You suck your lips in between your teeth as he is unresponsive, wondering whether to go on. You decide you must. That he must hear this. “And, Din,” you say, through a watery smile. “I hope it’s not inappropriate to say- you know The Way better than I ever can- but, it seems to me, from what you tell me, that being a Mandalorian isn’t any one thing. It’s strength, and honour, and loyalty. And if it’s those things too, then, Din, you’re the most Mandalorian person I’ve ever met.”

Beneath your hand, your feel Din’s chest stutter and he takes a shaky, volatile breath in and out. You wonder if he is crying.

“Cyar'ika” he says softly, after a few moments. “How do you always make me feel a little better? A little safer?”

Your heart pounds. He called you darling.

“It’s just the tea,” you dismiss, through brimming tears of joy. It is all you want. All you want to protect this sweet man.

“It’s not,” he states painly. “The tea’s awful,” he says, and this time, his hand clamps over yours on his shoulder. His chest shakes again, but this time it is with a gentle, shaky laugh. The kind of throaty, beautiful chuckle which sounds out of him when Grogu plays with the silver ball of the flight control. 

Yes, he settles his hand on top of yours, but, this time, neither of you snatch your hands away. His laugh subsides, until it dissipates into the space between you, warming the room a little.

“There is one more thing I’d like to talk about,” Din says, his voice cracking.

Softly, you invite him to continue with a squeeze of his shoulder.

“You saw me,” he says, gently, and you can tell his gaze has turned back to you, head pointed where he’s looking. You feel his eyes on you.

Brown eyes.

Now that you know what they look like, it is all the harder to avert your gaze.

You did. You saw him.

“I’m sorry,” you state, voice brittle, and your heart breaking, tears tipping from your eyes. “I wish I hadn’t. I wasn’t looking.”

Just like now. You won’t look.

“Yes, I know. But you saw me. You always see me,” he states, his voice warm and revving like an engine suddenly full with fuel. You shake your head softly in confusion, unsure where he is going with this, syllables stuttering out of you. Luckily, Din picks up the slack. “I hoped you would see me for the first time as my riddur, but, now that you have already... what do you think? Is mine a face you could live with?”

Your heart is pounding faster now. It is definitely racing, and no longer breaking.

As his riddur? He meant to marry you? Means to, still? Your brimming tears spill over on to your cheeks.

And, this time, you turn toward each other, even though your gaze is cast down. Not looking. His eyes very much fixed on you- on whatever he can make out in this shadow.

You think that having such kind, brown eyes fall on you is a blessing.

“Din,” you start, your voice full and bowed with emotion. “Yours is a face I loved before I ever saw it. Loved when I saw it. Will love if even if I never see it again, and would love if I looked at nothing else but into your eyes for the rest of my life. Your face is as beautiful as your soul, and I never needed to look at you to see you.”

“Cyar’ika,” he whispers softly, scooping up your hand and bringing it to rest on his cheek.

An impossibly joyous smile splits your face as you feel the texture of his skin and the scruff of his beard against your fingers. Finally. As you feel his own face crease into a smile in return, his cheek appling beneath your touch. You are overwhelmed by the trust he must place in you, to sit with you like this.

“Do you mean it, Din?” you ask, scarcely believing it. “You want to be a family?”

This time, Din’s voice does not come to you from behind metal - behind beskar. It is close. It is unfettered. You feel his warm, sweet breath on your face as his joyful, certain words filter out of him. “We’re already a family. You and me and the kid. I’m never letting anything take you away from me.”

You believe him.

You smooth the pads of your finger over his face and he reaches out to cup your cheek too, feeling the tracks of your tears beneath his touch. With his broad hands, skin-on-skin, Din pulls you into him, and your lips find his immediately, his tongue delving eagerly into you as if he has been waiting for a mouth to kiss.

Din has been waiting for a long time, perhaps. Waiting for you to complete his family - officially. But he’s never had to wait to love you. He already did that, long ago. From the first time he saw you, in fact. You had a face as beautiful as your soul, and he knew you were the one for him. 

You close your eyes, feeling overwhelmed by happiness. You do not look at him; your Mando. You don’t even try to, but you don’t need to look to see him.

Still, you if you get the chance to look again, you think it will be a blessing to gaze into those brown eyes.

Those brown eyes as kind as his soul, and full of love, instead of fear.

[sehunniepotwrites]

sakura kiss | n.yt

PART III OF FOR YOU IN FULL BLOOM: THE HANAHAKI COLLECTION

🌸 synopsis—the four times you noticed yuta’s love for flowers and the one time you realized it was not the flowers he was in love with

🌸 genre—  would you be so kind? universe ; hanahaki!au, university!au, flower shop!au, angst, romance, slight fluff, mutual pining, strangers to lovers!au 🌸 pairing— art student/florist!yuta x art student!reader (f) 🌸 word count— 9000+

🌸 warnings — cursing; mentions of coughing, vomiting, hospital visits, death (no one dies!!), two idiots in love

🌸 author’s note—so i finished a fic with my favorite trope in time for my birthday today (dec 11th) and i’m posting to celebrate! it all started with this tweet that said yuta used to work at a flower shop and enjoyed drawing the plants during his free time! 

this was a fun write and it takes place in the same verse as wybsk, which is linked above! you can read sakura kiss as a stand alone or after wybsk to get a better understanding of two scenes! to those you came from my mark fic, i gave yn a name (kira)!

but here she is! enjoy and be sure to tell me what you think!! i love feedback uwu

Nakamoto Yuta, you noticed, was an unusual fellow. He was your senior in the art department, a fourth-year preparing for his graduation while you were a couple of semesters behind him. Other than his small circle of friends, the foreign exchange student kept to himself, burying his handsome face in his sketchbook. You had classes together before but those were large lectures with over fifty students in the room— this was the first time you shared a small studio lab with him.

Barely interacting with him in the past, you were determined to change that no matter how intimidating Yuta was.

Were you intimidated by his extremely good looks or his unmatched talents in the fine arts? Both. Definitely both. He turned heads without fail and when he smiled, oh my god, you thought he was the sun. Yuta was pretty, beyond pretty even, with his striking face, brown eyes, and perfect body proportions. 

To add on top of his perfection, his art style was immaculate. The artist never failed to steal your breath away with a couple of strokes and a swipe of his blessed hand. Anything he touched turned to gold. Never sharing those thoughts with him in the past, you made a firm decision to tell your senior this coming semester.

Yuta sat at the easel next to you, barely two feet away from your station. His sketchbook and drawing utensils were already splayed out on the holder. He was fiddling with his phone to pass the time, his painted nails rapidly hitting his touchscreen. How did Yuta make something so mundane as checking his phone look so ethereal? The inner most thoughts in your head cursed whatever beings lived in the beyond for not endowing you with such looks. 

You gulped, gathering up the courage to talk to him. “Hey,” you greeted shyly. 

Hey? That was the best you could do?

Yuta turned towards you, gaze shifting away from his phone. “Hey,” he said back with a slight curve of the lip. 

“I don’t know if you remember me but we had a couple of classes together last semester,” you forced yourself to say with an awkward smile.

He grinned and his teeth sunk into his bottom lip, almost like he was holding back a laugh. “Yeah, no, of course, I remember you.” Your name slips from his mouth, causing your awkward smile to turn into a genuine one. His tone is kind and his voice is low, sending shivers down your spine.

You tried your best to keep the conversation going, wanting to finally compliment him on his work but your professor entered the room and called for everyone’s attention. He handed out the syllabus to a student upfront and around the papers went, signifying the start of your first class. Yuta shot you an apologetic look, conveying that you could always continue the conversation later. 

The overview of the course’s syllabus was always the boring part of the first days. Your eyes glazed over, still not fully awake from rising early, and you tried to shake the sleepiness away. Stealing a glance at Yuta, you almost laughed at how his easel was angled in a way to hide that he wasn’t paying any attention. His syllabus outline was discarded off to the side and Yuta’s hands were moving rapidly, sketching out a large tree in full bloom in a page of his notebook.

It looked like flower petals raining from the branches and a person leaning against the tree trunk, hiding underneath the shade. His sketching speed and quality amazed you— how exactly did he sketch that fast and that beautifully?

You made sure your professor wasn’t looking in your direction before nudging Yuta’s side to grab his attention. He snapped out of his drawing daze and turned to you with widened eyes. A red seeped into his ears and pale cheeks, but you missed it completely, eyes zoned in on his quick draw.

“Hm?”

“That’s really good,” you whispered.

He rubbed the back of his neck at your compliment. “It’s just a quick sketch,” Yuta tried to play it off. He was never one to take compliments so well.

You leaned over to get a closer look. Noticing you almost falling off your stool, Yuta shifted his easel slightly closer to yours. “Is that a cherry blossom tree?”

He nodded, “Yeah, they’ve been on my mind a lot.”

“Do they remind you of home?” you asked. You couldn’t imagine being an exchange student in a foreign country— you would miss home too much.

“Yeah but that’s not really the reason why I’m drawing them,” he replied. His eyes shifted to a look of pain or discomfort as if he was reminded of a scarring memory. You watched him closely to make sure he was okay. He cleared his throat before letting out a couple of concealed coughs, face digging into his shoulder. 

“You alright, Nakamoto?” You were too embarrassed to call him by his first name.

“Yeah, I’m good. Just a little cough.” Yuta gave you a smile that didn’t reach his eyes, “And you can just call me Yuta, you know?”

“Right, noted,” the name felt so foreign on your tongue. 

“I have cough drops in my bag if you want some,” you offered, already reaching down to grab your backpack. He quickly dismissed you, telling you it wasn’t necessary. 

Continuing to watch him sketch, you admired the way Yuta fussed over the smallest details— the lining, the shading, etc. It was nothing more than a simple sketch but if it was gifted to you, it would be framed and hung for the world to see. 

He really was an artistic genius. 

“Cherry blossoms are my favorite flowers,” you said.

You were too absorbed in his drawing to hear him mutter, “I know.”

“You say something?” 

Yuta cleared his throat again with a pained expression. His hand held his neck for a second before shaking his head. “I said, they used to be mine too.”

Huh, you never really picked him as the flower loving type. 

—🌸—

This was the third time Nakamoto Yuta had flowers growing in his chest and he hated it. 

It was less painful the first two times around, probably because they were nothing more than fleeting crushes. He was in high school then, wholly infatuated with two different students during those years. Yuta followed them around like a lovesick puppy, all smiles and waiting on their hands and feet. He coughed a couple of petals out and it caused some uneasiness, but after being rejected harshly, Yuta pushed himself to move on. 

The pain of high school rejection could never compare to the dull ache he was feeling as he looked at you. There you were, the person he secretly admired for the past two semesters, merely two feet away at your own easel. 

You looked so in your element, eyebrows knitted and pencil in hand as you sketched away. A sight so captivating, Yuta almost forgot to breathe. Being an artist himself, he wanted to preserve that image on a canvas but he didn’t think his hand could do you justice. No pencil sketch, no painted canvas, no marble or clay sculpture could even compare to you. 

This was more than puppy love. More than infatuation. Yuta was sure of it but how was he to let you know? You barely knew each other and a confession out of nowhere wouldn’t be the best way to get acquainted. 

Perhaps another time, he thought to himself, before turning back to his sketch. 

You would’ve never guessed that Yuta Nakamoto had a thing for flowers but he did.

Then again, you didn’t really know what he had a thing for to begin with— your friendship just started to bloom. It was like a bud barely opening under the sunlight; with each interaction, there was something new you learned about the quiet yet charismatic art major. 

You knew he was a Japanese exchange student that majored in art, that was a given. You recently learned he loved cherry blossoms and that watercolor was his favorite art medium yet you still wanted to learn more. 

The first time you ran into him outside of class was in the university library. Yuta sat at one of the tables, his space surrounded by books on flowers. There were books on the language, arrangements, and gardening tips. His face was deep into his sketchbook once again, back bent over the desk but his focused eyes darted back and forth between his drawing and his page of reference. 

Yuta didn’t even notice as you hovered over him, debating on whether you should say hi. Even with your shadow casting over his body, his deep concentration never faltered. 

His page was filled with various plants and flowers, little notes in a messy scrawl right under their pictures. He was currently drawing cherry blossoms, the page he was referring to showcasing the anatomy of the famous flower.

“Cherry blossoms again, Yuta?” you broke the silence.

Your voice startled him, causing his pencil to slip from the artist’s grip. It made an accidental mark and you whispered an apology as he clicked his tongue. 

“Don’t worry about it, nothing an eraser can’t fix,” Yuta reassured you as he rid his paper of the unwanted mark. He blew the eraser bits of his page, hand sweeping his surface clean. He offered you the seat next to him and you gladly took it.

“So, why are you always sketching flowers?” you posed as your hand gestured to all the books he had on his person. 

“They’re beautiful, don’t you think?” he answered with another question. He gave you a cheeky little grin, his lips widening to show off his beautiful pearly whites.

“Well, yeah.”

“It’s a shame they die so easily,” Yuta said, fingers running over his sketches. “Beautiful but fleeting.”

“But that’s life, isn’t it?”

“I guess it is.”

You hummed at his answer. “You’re really passionate about flowers, aren’t you?” 

“Something like that. I actually work at a flower shop nearby, maybe you’ve seen it?” Yuta fiddled with the front pocket of his backpack to pull out a business card. “I like learning about the meanings to help the customers in the shop, amongst other things.”

You took the card from his grip, examining it. For You in Full Bloom was printed largely on the thin piece of cardboard. Staring at the name, you wondered why it sounded so familiar until it hit you.

“Oh, I pass by it everyday while walking to campus! I live two blocks away from the shop.” Your smile grew wider and he smiled back for a second before his face contorted into one that conveyed pain.

Yuta turned away from you to cough into his hand, his free one hastily digging into his pocket. He pulled out a handkerchief and began to cough into that. Shocked by his sudden sick fit, you quickly patted him on the back, hoping it would help him hack out whatever was lodged in his throat.

You saw him peek into the small square of fabric and wince at whatever it caught. He cleared his throat before turning back to you. “Sorry,” Yuta muttered, rubbing the front of his neck to soothe it. Placing a cough drop in his hand, he took it without complaint and popped it in his mouth. The relieved sigh he let out made you feel slightly less worried. 

“You’re still sick?” you frowned. “You should really get that checked out, you know?”

He waved you off, “It’s nothing serious, I swear. What were we talking about again?”

“Cherry blossoms?”

“Your favorite flower.”

“And yours,” you added.

He hummed, “And mine.” There was a solemn tone behind his words but before you could press on the subject, he coughed again.

“Did you know that they’re also a symbol of renewal?”

Shaking your head, you urged your classmate to continue.

“Cherry blossoms hold the bittersweet meaning of life and death but they also bring the message of new beginnings.”

—🌸—

Yuta just wished when it came to you and him, the flowers meant the start of something new but no— instead, they just reminded him of the ache in his chest. 

They reminded Yuta of how alive he was but also how he was one step closer to his grave. 

Yes, you were merely classmates but he felt like he knew you solely from all the stories that were shared by your mutual friends in the art department. Ten and Taeyong sang praises on how thoughtful you were, always helping professors clean their studios after hours. Sicheng brought up how passionate you were about your major— Yuta himself bore witness to this many times during lectures and he wanted to know more about you. 

A lot of charm filled your figure and it was enchanting, it really wasn’t that hard for him to fall. 

Yuta fell for you much like the blossoms from the cherry trees. 

And just like the blossoms, his time was fleeting but you were so completely unaware.

You left the library first, having forgotten that you had office hours with a professor. He watched you leave, eyes fixed onto your back.

Someone once said that you become miserable if you love someone too much. Yuta believed that to be true. There was a pang in his chest, heart racing against his rib cage as a stronger nausea attack hit him. 

He gasped for air as his weakened stomach turned with sickness. Something was rising, working its way up his body. Yuta quickly slapped his hand over his lips as he hurled. Instead of bile, cherry blossom petals rained out of his mouth and into his palm.

He chuckled under his breath. Was it sad that he found beauty in his suffering? 

Yuta thought himself to be crazy as he quickly shoved away the pain to begin sketching the petals in his hand.

For You in Full Bloom— what a nice name, you thought to yourself as you entered the shop with your friend Sicheng right behind you. The light ringing of the bell attached to the front entrance alerted the people at the counter of your presence. You picked up on harsh whispers before the tall male worker rushed to the back, forcing the young girl to assist you.

“Hi, welcome in!” the girl smiled brightly at you. “How can I help you today?”

Before you could reply, Sicheng stepped forward to answer, “Kira, we’re looking for Yuta— is he here?”

“Oh, Sicheng, hey! I didn’t even see you,” Kira exclaimed. “He’s, uh, not here right now.” Kira shot Sicheng a frustrated look, eyes darting to the back. Your companion sighed, done with his friend’s stupidity. You missed the quiet interaction, being too preoccupied with your surroundings. 

“We’ll catch him another time then,” you answered her.

The small and quaint store was filled to the brim with flowers and your hands ghosted against the magnificent displays in the front window. The petals felt soft and the pleasing smells overwhelmed your senses in a good way. There was beauty all around you— there was no wonder why people loved visiting flower shops.

Various watercolor pieces were framed on the wall and you examined every artwork displayed. They were simple paintings of the plants that found a temporary home in the store. Some pieces were the flowers by themselves and others were of the many arrangements offered. They were vibrant, bright, and so incredibly detailed.

“I’ll tell him you stopped by,” she paused to ask for your name. You replied with a smile before turning back to take in the art. 

“The paintings are a nice touch,” you commented, finally turning to look at her. 

“Oh those? Yuta painted them,” Kira grinned, her body straightening up with pride. “He paints a lot when the shop is slow and my mom, the owner, loves to hang them up.”

“I should’ve known.” You took a closer look and spotted Yuta’s signature at the bottom of every picture.

“He’s very talented, isn’t he?” Kira hummed. Sicheng snorted for some unknown reason and you slapped his shoulder in response. There was nothing funny about Yuta’s skills and he knew that.

“Yeah, his skill is unmatched. I admire him for that.” 

“Have you ever told him that?”

“God, no!”

“Why not?” Kira pressed. Sicheng joined in on the pressing and you moaned, an embarrassing heat creeping up your face,

“I don’t know. We talk but I find him to be a little intimidating,” you leaned against Sicheng’s shoulder and looped your arm through his. “I can’t just go up to him and fangirl over his work, can I?”

“But you want to,” he groaned. “And I’m tired of hearing you go on about it. Just tell him.” 

A whine left your lips and you pinched your friend’s arm at the comment. He yelped and Kira just watched as the bickering continued. 

“Yuta looks intimidating, yeah, but it’s just his resting bitch face, I promise. He’s just a softie,” Kira laughed and Sicheng agreed. “You should definitely tell him. He would love hearing it, especially from you.”

There was this knowing smile on both of their lips and it just seemed like they knew something you didn’t. You tugged on Sicheng’s arm as an attempt to ask him the florist meant by the last bit of her sentence and he tried to shrug you away.  You just clung on tighter to your friend with a playful smile with Kira keeping a close eye on you.

You heard a cough come from the back of the store, causing both Sicheng and Kira to look up with concern. The coughing fit grew louder and louder, leaving Kira to excuse herself for a bit. 

“If the other florist is sick, they should be at home resting,” you tutted with a frown. 

“Some people are stubborn,” Sicheng threw back with a bit of distaste. Picking up on your friend’s bitterness, you wondered why he felt so strongly about it. You waved it off when a small display of sunflowers and red roses together captured your attention. Holding it in your hands, you admired how the two vibrant colors compliment each other.

Kira swung her way around the counter, “You like that bouquet?”

“It would be really pretty to paint,” you say, still spinning it around in awe. 

“Yuta put it together himself yesterday, he’s pretty good at arrangements,” the florist beamed.

“What can’t he do?” you scoffed.

“Apparently, open his mouth and say what he needs to say,” Sicheng muttered beside you. Kira elbowed his stomach and he lurched over in pain. 

“What was that?” 

“Nothing,” Kira laughed nervously. She worked her way to you and gestured towards the flowers, “It’s yours, on the house.”

You rejected the offer right away. “Oh no, I couldn’t,” is what you reply, attempting to shove the arrangement into her hands. With a kind grin, she persisted for you to take it and just asked you to buy from them the next time you visited. “I’m sure Yuta would love it if you took this one off our hands.”

With a promise, you hesitantly accepted the bouquet. Sicheng was snickering in the background and you had to hold yourself back from whacking him with the flowers. Thinking you’d taken too much of the florist’s time, you quickly said your thanks and headed out the door with a coy Sicheng trailing behind you.

—🌸—

“They’re gone,” Kira yelled towards the back of the shop. Yuta made his way back to his spot at the cash register while wiping at his mouth with his uniform sleeve. He quickly pulled out his art supplies from underneath the counter, setting everything up to resume his painting. Taking a seat on the stool, his body was slumped over his makeshift desk as he messed with his pencils. 

His coworker rolled her eyes at him as she began to work on a bouquet of blue cornflowers and daisies— good fortune and new beginnings. Her nimble hands hastily worked their magic with ease as if she’s done it a million times before. Yuta observed her, quickly sketching her hands at work. 

“You’re ridiculous, I don’t get why you had to hide.” 

“I didn’t want her to see me like this,” Yuta said, his pained eyes covered by the long bangs that drooped down over his sketchbook. 

“Like what?” Her hands went to her hips. “Sick and hopelessly in love?”

“Yeah, let’s put it that way.”

“There’s a solution to this, you know,” Kira pressed with furrowed brows. “You don’t have to keep suffering.”

This. Hanahaki is what she meant— the disease of unrequited love.

“I’m fine, Kira,” Yuta hissed with a bit more annoyance than he intended to. She flinched at the tone but still pushed on when he coughed again. He felt the discomfort of something being lodged in his throat and his body had the urge to hack it out. Suddenly, he was leaning over the counter with cherry blossom petals littering the cash register. 

Yuta practically hacked up a storm, body curling in pain. One hand was clutching his stomach while the other had a death grip on the edge of the counter. The dizziness returned and he felt lightheaded as the retching subsided. A weakness took over his athletic body and Kira rushed to assist him back onto the stool. There was a bottle of soothing eucalyptus oil sitting right on the counter and she scrambled to open it before shoving it under his nose. 

“You’re obviously not fine. You need to go to the hospital to get checked,” she said as Yuta took the small bottle from her grip. He dabbed a couple of drops onto his hands and rubbed it on his nose and throat. “Why won’t you accept any help that’s offered to you at the hospital?”

“I’ve gone through this before, Kira. Don’t worry about me.”

“Sometimes you forget I’ve gone through this, too!” she yelled. “I don’t want you to end up on your deathbed like I was at one point.” 

Yuta couldn’t argue with that. He was hired back when she was in the hospital recovering from the final stage of the dreaded disease. 

“We’re all worried about you here. Mom, Jongin, Mark? And your friends— Sicheng, Ten, and Taeyong? We all hate seeing you like this!” her voice grew louder and louder with each word, causing him to flinch at the shrill tone. Deafening noises plus nausea and headaches never meshed well with him.

“You don’t see how much it hurts seeing someone you care about suffer like this, Yuta. It hurts even more when we can’t do anything to help you go through this.”

Silence filled the room.

“Have you seen Dr. Kim lately?” Dr. Junmyeon Kim was the Hanahaki specialist that Kira recommended. He eased her back into normalcy after her scare.

“I will soon, I promise,” he said through haggard breaths. She guided him through a couple of breathing exercises and it calmed his racing heart down. 

Kira sighed. With a quieter tone, she said, “It’s a shame the world made us experience heartbreak this way, isn’t it?”

Yuta smiled sadly at her— it was a shame.

The front door of the shop opened and the bell rang. They both turned to see Kira’s boyfriend Mark walk in with a cute grin. He clumsily hopped over the counter to plant a sweet kiss on her cheek. “Well, at least you got your happy ending,” he muttered too low for his coworker to hear. 

Yuta knew there was a chance of having it too, he was just too afraid to speak. 

If one were to look at him at that moment, his features hid nothing. Nakamoto Yuta was slowly ripping at the seams with the sakura branches poking their way out of his built figure and although multiple options were given to him, he still felt so unbelievably helpless.

It was the middle of the semester when you caught Yuta wandering the halls of the main art building. A grin found its way to your lips as you saw him with his messenger bag and a tubed container slung over his shoulder. Running to catch up with him, you slipped your arm into his free one. Your classmate yelped at the sudden contact and you let out a loud giggled that echoed in the empty hallway.

You finally felt close enough to initiate contact after sharing supplies with him during one studio session. That being said, it didn’t mean you were comfortable with revealing the feelings you harbored towards him— you wanted to keep that a secret for a little bit longer. 

“What are you doing here? I thought you didn’t have classes in here today,” you asked.

“Oh, it’s just you,” Yuta sighed. You felt your heart drop at his words but you played it off with a scrunch of the nose and a teasing tone. 

“Were you expecting someone else, Nakamoto?” you nudged his stomach and he avoided it, already predicting your actions. Yuta held back another series of coughs, quick turning away from you to cough into the handkerchief always kept on hand. He looked in pain as he continued to hack into the small piece of cloth and you brought a comforting hand to rub at his back.

“Every time I see you, you’re coughing,” you frowned. “You really need to get yourself checked, it’s been months.”

“No, no, I promise you I’m fine,” he replied with the shake of the head, his dark hair moving along with him. Even when ruffled and out of sorts, he looked good. He attempted to clear his throat by downing some water. 

Your lips pursed at his words, not satisfied with his dismissive answer. “If you say so. Promise me you’ll see someone if it gets worse though.”

He agreed but you suspected it was to stop you from nagging. “To answer your question before you went all mom on me, I was here to talk to the department about my senior project.”

“Have you decided on your theme for your exhibit yet?” 

Yuta smiled wistfully, “Flowers.” 

“Should’ve known— it’s always flowers with you. It’s like you’re in love with them or something.” 

He let out a scoff at your words. When you shot him a questioning look, he dismissed the act completely. 

Time spent with Yuta always passed so quickly; one moment you were on the top floor of the building and the next, you were already at the bottom of the staircase. Ever the gentleman, he held the front door open for you and you thanked him with a smile. His brown eyes shrunk into little slits and whiskers appeared at the corners as he grinned back with a little chuckle.

How you longed to sketch that image.

A strong breeze blew through, causing a couple of leaves and fallen petals to fly around your figures. You crossed your arms around your front to keep the cold from seeping in and shut your eyes to keep debris out. Peeking at Yuta, you saw him cover his eyes with a calloused hand and he gently pushed you behind him to use his body as a makeshift shield. As soon as the breeze stopped, his grip on your arm loosened but the grip he had on your heart was still as strong as ever.

He whirled around to make sure you were alright and next thing you knew, his hand was lingering above your head. “You have something in your hair, do you want me to take it out?” 

Yuta looked down at you with cautious eyes and you just noticed how close you were. Heat radiated off his body and your cheeks as you nod in approval. One dry hand moved to delicately clutch the side of your head as the other plucked a leaf out of your hair. 

Your breath hitched as his fingers ran against your skin and tucked a stray piece of hair behind your ear. There was a sudden pounding in your ears that matched the drumming rhythm of your heart.

“There,” he whispered as he let you go. With a smile, Yuta added, “good as new and pretty as a picture.” 

“Pretty enough to paint?” you fired back with sarcasm.

“Definitely worthy of being displayed for the world to see,” he winked.

Was he flirting? It seemed like he was. 

Maybe, Sicheng was right— Yuta could have feelings for you. But it could also just be wishful thinking.

Were you flirting? Is this how flirting works? 

“Speaking of displays,” Yuta started nervously as he walked you to your car. He slowed down his walking pace and you easily matched it, your steps moving in time with his. The main walkway on campus was devoid of people, seeing how it was later in the school day. The path from the art building to the lot you parked in was short and you wished there was some way to extend it so you could spend more time with him.

“Will you, uh, come to my show?” he asked, his hand scratching the back of his head. His hair flopped with the wind and his unsure grin made him look so incredibly endearing. “I know it’s still too early to give you a set date but I’d love to see you there.”

“What? Of course I’ll come!” you said, stopping to slap his arm. 

He winced at the contact. “Ow?”

“I would’ve gone even if you didn’t ask me,” you proceeded on the path with a smile. “I have to go and support my friends.”

There was a coughing fit coming from behind you and you whirled around to see Yuta hacking into his handkerchief again. It looked more painful than the last attack he had a few minutes ago. His breathing was shallow and he clutched his chest as the coughs continued. 

“Oh my god, Yuta!” You were pretty sure you heard him gag as you rubbed his back. “Okay, I’m taking you to the hospital. You’re clearly not alright.”

He lifted a hand to tell you to stop. “No, no. I’m fine. I just—I gotta go,” was all he said with his hoarse voice before jolting away.

Staring at his strong back as grew smaller and smaller, you almost missed the fallen piece of cloth on the ground. Keyword: almost.

“Wait, Yuta!” you shouted, bending down to pick it up. “You dropped your hanke—” As soon as you lifted the handkerchief, perfectly preserved cherry blossom petals fell out of its hold. They rained towards the ground, decorating the sidewalk with the prettiest shade of pink.

Yuta was long forgotten. You were too lost in your confusion of the flowers. 

“Cherry blossoms?” you asked yourself. “They’re not in season yet.”

—🌸—

Yuta heard you calling for him but he refused to turn around. He pushed himself to keep running despite the tight pain in his chest. Pulling out his phone, he sent quick text messages to Sicheng and Kira with his location, asking them to stop by and help him. The disorientation hit faster this time, causing him to tumble into a bench. He gripped the iron lining as he hurled and for the first time, it was so painful that it brought tears to his eyes. His mouth trembled as he let out a cry.

Yuta tasted the bit of blood that poured out of his lips. 

Wiping his mouth with the sleeve of his jacket, Yuta ignored how the crimson stained the fabric. A butter chuckle escaped him. 

“Pink goes good with red,” he whispered to himself as another stinging pain made its way up his body. 

He felt the branches slowly poking his lungs, climbing a path up his chest. It was just as Kira described— it was piercing like a sharp arrow to the heart. The arrow pressed and pressed and pressed until he was exploding with petals, blood, sweat, and tears.  It was aimed to kill. He thought arrows to the heart were supposed to fill him with love, not a heart-wrenching pain that tempted him to rip the beating organ out of his chest.

This was all too much to bear.

The full flowers and the scratching of wood tickling his throat. 

The lack of oxygen and struggle for air.

He felt it all. He wished he didn’t. 

Yuta wished he was one of the people that found their soulmate with that ridiculous red string of fate tied to the end of his pinky. They were blessed with a lifetime of happiness while he was cursed with what felt like an eternity of agony that his weakening body could no longer withstand. 

Yuta knew you didn’t love him but he adored you anyway. 

This wasn’t a shoujo manga, Yuta knew that. This was real life. No one was going to kiss, kiss, fall in love with the blink of an eye.

Picking petals off of flowers wouldn’t solve his problem. He wished it did, though.

If only it was that easy.

The rest of the semester flew by quickly with midterms and mid-semester projects keeping you at bay. You barely saw Yuta, yet alone the rest of your friends, if not for your classes. All of you shared the same appearance: dark circles, eye bags, sunken cheeks, hunched backs, and glazed over eyes. Your group survived the weeks with a crazy amount of caffeine and not enough food.

 With the school year finally over and graduation season starting, that meant one thing for the college of fine arts at your university— exhibitions. The music and dance departments already had their concerts and showcases. Final showings of the theatre department’s newest production just wrapped up yesterday; the only thing left were the senior art exhibits.

Dressed to the nines and not at all like a struggling artist, you paced back and forth at the entrance of the student art gallery with a bouquet of irises in your hand. Sicheng, your emotional support for the day, stood as you walked the same path with annoyance. You couldn’t exactly pinpoint why you felt nervous— it wasn’t even your exhibit, it was Yuta’s. 

Ten and Taeyong wrapped up their exhibits the week prior; Yuta’s was the last one.

“Are you done freaking out? Can we go in now?” Sicheng cocked a brow at you with his phone in hand. “The others are already inside.”

Wringing your hands together, you took in a deep breath. “Okay, let’s do this.” 

Sicheng rolled his eyes before opening the doors to the gallery. Stepping inside, you were immediately welcomed by paper flowers of all sorts hanging from the ceiling and the quiet chatter of the gallery’s visitors. To the right, you saw a sign displaying the exhibit’s name: Efflorescence. A brief description of the exhibit was placed below it and you took the time to read it before stepping further in.

Snapshots of his life told through the appearance and language of flowers.

Ten and Taeyong, your seniors and close friends, were waiting for you off to the side. 

“Sorry for the wait, you guys.”

Sicheng grumbled, “Took her long enough to calm down.”

Ten laughed, “Were you nervous for him? You weren’t like this for our final exhibits.”

“Oh, leave her alone,” Taeyong hushed the other two. Wrapping an arm around you, he pulled you close, “She’s nervous because this is her crush we’re talking about.”

“For heaven’s sake, say that any louder and he’ll hear you!” you screeched. The boys chuckled at your embarrassed state as you went ahead of them, ready to walk your way through the large room. From the corner of your eye, you saw Yuta smiling by the exit, surrounded by people singing praises about his work.

You weren’t in a rush— you wanted to take the time to appreciate every piece before talking to him about why he chose to display each work. Talking to the object of your affection could wait.

The first few paintings were of his childhood and the flowers that accompanied each scene all had similar meanings— innocence, purity, etc. You noticed that most of his paintings were done with watercolor, which made complete sense. 

It seemed like he was always prepared to paint something, brush and paint always at the ready. The genius basically carried his foldable watercolor palette and pad everywhere he went, not wanting to miss an opportunity to paint a beautiful picture if he were to pass by one. That was another thing you admire about him— Nakamoto Yuta saw beauty in everything.

Deeper into the gallery, you found more familiar scenes and faces. There was a landscape of the fine arts department, with daffodil petals scattered across the canvas and it was titled New Beginnings. You passed various portraits of your friends, their beauty rivaling that of their birth flowers that shared the same space. Marveling at how realistic his paintings looked, you made a note in your brain to relay that thought to the artist later. He captured the essence of each person perfectly in a painting, breathing life into it, and you honestly couldn’t understand how one could do that. 

Spotting Kira’s familiar face admiring a painting up ahead, you quickened your pace to catch up to her. Feeling the light tap you placed on her shoulder, she turned around with a surprised look that turned into a genuine smile upon seeing your face. She released her hold on her companion, a cute boy with doe eyes and bright smile, before giving you a hug. 

“You’re here!” she squealed. Taking notice of the flowers in your hand, she winked, “Irises, huh? Nice touch.” 

“I stopped by your shop beforehand looking for you and an older guy wrapped them up for me,” you smiled sheepishly. “Should’ve known you would be here and not working.”

“My brother, Jongin,” Kira said. “And of course, I wouldn't miss Yuta’s exhibit for the world. He’s done a lot for me and my family.” She shared a fond look with the boy next to her and he squeezed her hand in return.

“This is my boyfriend, Mark, by the way,” Kira gestured to the boy next to her. 

“Yo, nice to meet you, dude,” Mark extended his arm out towards you and you gladly took in your hands to give it a shake. You laughed at his casual greeting; it was charming. 

“Back at you, dude,” you giggled back. 

Turning to take a peek at the picture they were admiring, you couldn’t help but break out into a wide grin. It was the two of them with the flower shop as their background. Yuta had painted Kira seated on top on the counter, eyes closed with glee and hands clutching a small bouquet of blue flowers. Mark, on the other hand, leaned towards her with fingers gripping the table top and looking at her with a loving smile. 

You could feel the love pouring out of it and it warmed your lonely heart. “Wow,” you whispered.

Kira leaned her head on Mark’s shoulder and he placed a tiny kiss to her temple. “I’m buying it from him once this is all over,” she said.

Knowing each flower played a part in Yuta’s paintings, you tried to distinguish what flowers she clutched in her hand. “They’re cornflowers,” Mark answered the question that lingered in your head.

“Why cornflowers?”

“Oh those things put us through a lot— a little pain sprinkled in with their beauty,” Kira smiled, leaving Mark to chuckle lovingly at her comment. It felt like a secret between the two of them and you were invading in their space. “They were what got us together in the first place.”

Her  sentence made you cock a brow. How could flowers be painful? That was awfully cryptic, even a little unsettling but it sounded a little familiar to you; it was on the tip of your tongue. 

“Yeah, they’re pretty special,” the boy grinned, gaze still glued to the person wrapped under his arm. “Cornflowers are my favorite.”

“They’re starting to become one of mine, too,” she returned the look. 

Mark’s bright brown eyes were shining with the love you wish someone had for you. It was a sweet sight, to see such a young couple in love. A part of you was jealous that they found a love like that so early in their lives while you pined after an artist that was so infatuated with flowers and their meanings. 

Wanting to leave them in their moment, you excused yourself with a smile. There were only four paintings left to see.

The first was a design you recognized. It was a more detailed painting of the sketch you had seen Yuta draw on the first day of the semester. A girl was seated on the grass, leaning her back on a trunk of a cherry blossom tree. Her hands were outstretched to the sky, trying to catch the falling petals in her hand. Stealing a glance at the title, Yuta titled the piece, Wishful Thinking. 

Moving to the next piece, it was a close up of Yuta’s hands. His palms were pressed together, cupping cherry blossoms in his hand. Petals and full flowers were scattered around the canvas, filling out all the empty spaces. The bright pink stood out against the color of his skin. You admired the amount of detail this piece had— the wrinkles on his skin, the gradient found on the petals. It held your interest, leaving you to wonder what this piece titled Inside meant to him. 

Yuta’s self-portrait was showstopping. He borrowed the flower shop’s name, calling this piece For You in Full Bloom. The painting brilliantly depicted him in all white, his eyes closed with pain and hands clutching at his throat. The blossoms were spilling out of his mouth, the petals tainted with a blood red. You could feel the sadness and the suffering emitting from the picture and it pained you to see such a vulnerable depiction of him. 

Putting two and two together, you figured it out. 

Hanahaki. You had read about the disease before, one of the artists you admired had it. They created art as a way to tell their story. It was their escape from the suffering, a way to ease their pain, and the one course of action they took to be remembered after their death.

The only piece of information you lacked was who made him tolerate such pain.

Skipping the last painting of the exhibit, you made your way through the crowd to find Yuta. He stood at the end with a polite smile, thanking everyone who attended his exhibit. Onlookers were showering him with compliments, leaving you to wait until the small crowd cleared out.

“Why didn’t you tell me you were sick?” you breathed out with a concerned look. You couldn’t even spit out the name of the disease.

His smile widened into a genuine one, eyes gone soft at the sight of you. “You made it.”

Spotting the irises in your hand, he gestured towards the bouquet. “Are those for me?”

Still in shock that the person you were in love with was suffering all this time, you handed them to him without a word.

“Irises mean ‘congratulations,’ nice choice,” he laughed, trying to steer the topic away from his illness.

“Who?” you asked. “Who is it?”

Cocking his head, he answered you with another question. “You didn’t see the last one, did you?”

Shaking your head negatively, Yuta took you by the hand and the feeling made fireworks explode in your chest. Your heart was beating rapidly as he led you a few steps away. Nodding his head towards the last frame, he whispered, “Take a look.” 

You felt his hand break out into a sweat and you wondered why this last one made him so nervous. Glancing at the title, you read the words Love Me Now. 

Taking a deep breath, you mentally prepared yourself to see the person who had a hold on Yuta’s heart. Unlike him, you thought yourself strong enough to take the heartbreak— after all, you weren’t the one with flowers blooming inside you. Shifting your eyes over, you gasped as soon as you spotted whose face was framed on the wall. 

Staring back at you was the most beautiful painting of yourself. It was a you that you had never seen before. He painted you in flourishing pastels to match the happy look on your face. He captured your smile lines, the curve of your eyes, and the scrunch of your nose in such detail; it amazed you beyond belief. 

There was movement in your hair, the strands swaying in the wind along with the petals behind you. Your hands held a branch of your favorite flowers, half of them covering part of your face.

Captivated by seeing yourself through someone else’s eyes, you couldn’t tear your gaze away.

“Your smile makes flowers grow in my chest,” Yuta’s voice came from your side. You turned to see him wear a strained smile. Yuta’s huge eyes that were usually filled with kindness were taken over by something else— pain. 

There was pain in his words and you hear the ache in his voice. His tone is hoarse, like his throat is unbelievably dry or irritated. 

“I— I don’t know what to say.” 

Everything was extremely overwhelming. 

He shook his head to tell you that it was okay; he just needed to get the words off his chest. “It’s so beautiful and enchanting and it makes my heart clench and flowers take over my lungs.”

“Cherry blossoms,” you found yourself saying. You couldn’t believe this was happening. There were words you wanted to say but you were struggling to find them.

“Sakura,” he repeated in his native language.

“My favorite flowers.”

“Your favorite flowers.” 

“You were never in love with flowers,” you stated, still in a state of shock. 

Yuta released this low, almost bitter sounding chuckle that comes from deep within his chest. “Never.”

“Then, you’re in love with—”

“You.”

“—me.”

Just like the artist you admired, Yuta painted his way through his pain of loving you. 

Nakamoto Yuta felt like he had been in love with you for the longest time. He had loved you before he could even muster the guts to let you know it, to invite you to this exhibit that displayed art dedicated to you.

He really hoped that you would show so he could take the chance to confess. Sure, you had promised but sometimes, people never intended to keep them. If he didn’t get it off his chest, he would never be able to breathe and Yuta desperately wanted to.

Yuta wanted to fill his lungs with breaths of fresh air and just breathe you in. That was all he longed for. 

“Oh,” was all you could breathe out.

“It’s okay that you don’t feel the same,” Yuta tried to comfort you, getting the wrong idea from your lack of words. “I just needed to let you know.”

The sharpening ache that became so familiar to him was building up in his chest again, preparing him for the worst. Yuta swallowed thickly, already feeling the petals working their way to his mouth. His airways began restricting, his breaths growing more haggard by the second. He had so many things to say and he was determined to let it out before the petals escaped. The words spilled out his mouth, his lips running like a motor, “I used to be afraid of being in love and being happy with a person that I loved because it hurts.”

“Yuta—”

He stopped you with a lifted palm. 

“Happiness never lasted with me, the flowers always ripped it away,” he explained, his trembling eyes focusing on your portrait and not the real person beside him. 

“But then I met you and felt things I have never experienced before. So, I pushed my way through the pain just to be with you because I felt like I reached for the stars and touched the sky when we were together.”

His words brought tears to your eyes. You couldn’t believe someone would sit through the pain just to spend time with you nor thought you were worth it but here Yuta was, proving you wrong.

“There were times I wanted to beg you to love me, just so the hurting and the bleeding—just everything— could stop but I was too much of a coward and it led me to this.”

Here he was, pouring his heart out to you with his images and words, and you couldn’t let out a single noise. You forced yourself to move forward, to slip your hand into his. The sensation of your fingers intertwining with his brought Yuta out of his daze to look at you.

“Yuta,” you said with trembling lips. “I’m so sorry, I didn’t know.”

“It’s not your fault,” he replied with a sullen tone. You squeezed his palm and he gave you a light one in return. “If I don’t get this off my chest now, I’ll never be able to breathe and I really want to.”

“There’s no reason for you to lose your breath over me.” A sniffle escaped you and Yuta turned to see you crying. He bent down to wipe your tears away, his finger swiping against your skin ever so gently. 

“Why are you crying?” 

“Because you suffered because of me and you didn’t have to,” you shot back with a whimper.

“You couldn’t have known, it’s okay,” he tried to reassure you.

“No, no,” you interrupted him to his confusion. “It’s not that.”

Your voice was so soft under your quivers, he could barely hear you over the loud chattering of the other guests in the room. Yuta guided you just outside his exhibit to a bench and dried your eyes with the sleeve of his sweater. 

“What’s wrong?”

Yuta’s question made you laugh through your tears and at all the time wasted. He had been in pain for so long because he was yearning for you just as you were for him. The mutual yet silent pining took you down this route and it could have been avoided if you had just stopped being a coward and spoken up like Sicheng pushed you to.

“There’s nothing wrong,” you said with the dismissing wave. You willed yourself to look him in the eyes and bring a hand to his cheek. “It’s just that I think I’ve been in love with you as long as you have been in love with me.”

Your confession caused him to freeze in his seat. His brown eyes were blown out wide and mouth dropping in shock. Giggling as more tears fell, you quickly slide the hand cupping his cheek down to his jaw to shut his mouth closed. Running a thumb against his lips, you felt his pulse quickening at your touch. 

“You’re in love with me?” he asked, voice as gentle as the breeze. There was uncertainty and disbelief behind it. Yuta wanted to hear you say it again.

—🌸—

“I’ve been in love with you for a while now.” Your earnest words were music to his ears. 

He felt this comforting rush take over this body and it sent tingles down his spine, traveling all the way to the tips of his fingers and toes. Your confession worked like magic, spelling him with this high that made him soar to the skies. 

Yuta thought you were a witch, entrancing him with a love charm so strong that it brought instant relief to his pain. His heart was trying to fight its way out of his chest and the ache of his airways dulled. The muscle was pounding so loudly against his ribcage, he could hear it in his ears, and he swore you could hear it too. 

His lips upturned into the biggest grin, he felt like his cheeks were about to burst. 

Was this how a requited love felt? If it was, he never wanted to go without it again. 

Yuta rushed to pull you in his arms and sighed when you nuzzled your head into his neck. He shivered when he felt them whisper the three words he longed to hear into his skin. His body shook with laughter as he placed a lingering kiss at the crown of your head, reveling at the feeling of you encased in his hold. 

You tried to fight your way out of his grip but he only tightened his arms, not wanting to let you go. The action left you giggling into his neck, causing him to squirm until his hold loosened. Your hands trailed their way from his waist up to cup his face and suddenly, his eyes were locked onto yours. Just as you were getting lost in the deep sea of brown, his gaze flickered to your lips before looking back at you. His lips quirked up as you did the same. 

He felt your breath hitch as he leaned in to slot his lips against yours and the overwhelming rush returned. It seemed like his heart was racing against time, beating erratically as you kissed him so tenderly. Your lips were so soft and they tasted like the vanilla flavoring of your color, leaving him to chase after you every time you pulled away for a breath. 

Yuta fought the strain in his airways as he pursued your lips again and again, loving the way you felt and tasted. He picked up the smell of your cherry blossom shampoo and laughed into the kiss. The feeling of having you was so addicting— your love was his drug and he was forever hooked on you. He would devote himself to nothing else but you.

The sensation of Yuta kissing you and smiling against your lips sent you into overdrive. There were butterflies in your stomach, fireworks going off in your head, tingles down your spine and you loved it all. 

In the past, you only noticed Nakamoto Yuta’s undying love and admiration for flowers but this was the first time you finally noticed his love for you and it was nothing short of wonderful. 

It was the start of something new. 

🌸 author’s note— that’s it! it came out a bit more angst than i intended, definitely lacked the fluff i was expecting but i’m still satisfied with the ending uwu  i loved writing my little markie and kira in the fic, i’ve missed them! but yes!! that’s the end of my little bday present to myself! i hope y’all loved it! please leave some feedback; i would love to hear what you thought of it!! i think i literally fell in love with yuta while writing this.

🌸 taglist— @danishmiilk​ @hyunjins--laugh​ @littleflowercrown13​ @orange-nimon-cross​ @radiorenjun​ @ncteaxhoe​ @chancrispy​

[elvish-sky]

Look Back {Thorin x Reader}

A.N: A thousand thanks to @guardianofrivendell , who kinda kickstarted this entire fic with their great idea (everyone go check out their work, it’s incredible!). Quick note on character ages- after the five years later bit Sigrid is 20, Otto is 3, and Kieran of course is relative to your age. I honestly really enjoyed writing this, even the parts where it made me cry (a good emotional outlet. Send me more angsty requests!) so I really hope it’s what you wanted, Anon! 

Requested by Anon on Tumblr: Thanks for answering my ask about angst! No worries if it'll take a while, so long as you're healthy and not stressing out about it, I will wait cuz your writing is soo worth it)I was wondering if I could request an either thorin x reader(f!human) or kili x Reader(f!human) where the reader is dumped by them and she moves on (like ends up with an elf or another dwarf) and lives a happy life, and thorin or kili regrets having left them and tries to get them back but sees that they lost their One cuz of their mistake and regrets it? (Is that too angsty?? I'm so sorry if it is!)

Word Count: 4,576. The longest thing I’ve ever written is an angst fic. Huh. 

Summary: Thorin doesn’t want to push back against the council when they say you cannot be married.

Pairings: Thorin x Reader, OC (I have those now. Huh.) x Reader

Warnings: Angst, Regret, End of Relationship, Sadness, Fluff

Director’s Commentary

****

Look Back

“It is the will of the council that, since Y/N is not a dwarf, the two of you shall not be married, and cannot be together.” 

Your head jerked up. You had been expecting pushback, but not a flat-out refusal. Turning your head to look at Thorin, you saw him bow his head in defeat.

“Very well. If it is the will of the council.” 

The words hit you in the chest like an arrow. You thought he would fight for you, but no. You weren’t worth it. You rose and left without another word, slipping between the doors as the council watched you go. Balin sighed from his seat midway down the stone table, shaking his head in disappointment at the whole room. 

Arriving at your rooms, the ones right next to Thorin’s that you had been so proud of, you started shoving your belongings into a sack, leaving anything that had been given to you by your former love out. You didn’t want any reminders of him, even to see him ever again. 

Sadly, your wish to not see him didn’t work, as shown very quickly. Barely three minutes after you had entered your rooms, he came bursting through the carved double doors. 

“I’m sorry, Y/N, but I can’t disobey the council.”

You scoffed, grabbing your few tunics and folding them into the bag. 

He continued, “You can stay, we can ask again in a few months, give them more time to warm up to the idea.”

“No. If I’m not worth fighting for now, how do I know I’ll be worth it then?”

You were drawing the string closed on your meager bag of belongings. It was rather sad to think how little you actually owned, versus what had been gifted to you by your former betrothed.

“I’m not going to risk my heart like this, Thorin. I can see that I never actually mattered.”

“Y/N-” 

You cut him off.

“You’ve broken promises before, but I never thought you’d break this one, Thorin Oakenshield.” 

You had been undoing your courting braid as you spoke, and now flung the bead at him. It fell into his hand, and you didn’t even spare a moment for the pain in his eyes as you slammed the door behind you, leaving a king with everything feeling as if he had just lost the one thing that really mattered. 

You arrived at the gates to Erebor to see something rather unexpected. The entire company was gathered there, and you stopped in front of them. They were all gazing at you with unshed tears in their eyes, and looking at them you couldn’t believe how far you all had come from that ragged company running for their lives. It made you sad to think about leaving, when the reminders of what you were giving up were all right there.

“I’m sorry about the council, lass.” Balin was the first to speak. “I tried to sway them, but it just couldn’t be done. I’ll keep trying.” 

You mustered a small smile for the old dwarf. “Thank you, Balin, but you don’t have to keep beating a dead horse. We both know nothing will come of it.” 

Each member of the company stepped forward and said goodbye, hugging you before moving back to the group. Dwalin settled for briefly squeezing you, before stepping back with a muttered, “I’ll miss yeh, lass.” You saw him surreptitiously wipe a tear from his cheek, and giggled a little.

Nori slipped a few coins into your pocket, as well as a set of lock picks. “You never know when they’ll come in handy.” 

Dori was crying as he pressed several bags of tea leaves into your hand. You sniffed them, recognizing the scent of your favorite kind.

Ori was also teary as he quickly wrapped a knitted scarf around your neck. “It gets cold out there,” were his parting words before he retreated to stand next to  Dori.

You let out a small laugh as Gloin handed you an ax. “I already have my sword!”

“Yes, lassie, but everyone knows axes are better.” There were gasps of outrage, but you were glad that the dwarf had lightened the mood, even just a little. Besides, the axe truly was gorgeous. A lovely specimen of dwarven craftsmanship, with a beautifully carved handle. 

“Is that a dragon?” Gloin nodded, and you marveled at the intricacies. 

Bifur approached next, pressing a carving into your hand. You looked at the figure. “That’s me!” He nodded, and you gazed at the detail he had worked in, even the etchings on your sword were visible in the wood. 

Bombur handed you a satchel, and you opened it. You gave the dwarf a big hug as you saw the honey-scones packing it to the brim. “My favorite.” 

“The recipe is in there too.” You couldn”t resist giving him a second hug of thanks.

Bofur came forward after his brother. “I’d sing you something, but I’m not sure I can do it without crying.” You straightened his hat, which had been set askew by your hug, as he stepped back. 

Fili and Kili were last. Fili approached you slowly, but Kili shoved him out of the way and crashed into you. Burying his face in your coat, he whispered, “I really wanted to get to call you Auntie.” 

You choked back tears, wrapping your arms around him as his brother joined the hug. 

“You’ll write to us?” Fili looked as if he was trying not to cry as well, while Kili had given up and had tears visibly streaming down his cheeks. 

“I will.” You broke away with difficulty and gave the group one last look. “Thank you all, so much.” They nodded, and you turned and walked out of the gates, leaving your old love behind. 

Thorin watched from the ramparts high above as you left. He knew he had made the right choice for his kingdom, but it hurt. The expression on your face was slowly killing him, and he knew whatever his doubts had been that you had truly loved him. He had loved you too, but he thought he loved his kingdom more. Nevertheless, he found himself hoping that you would turn around, come back, even though he knew he would have to turn you away. 

You didn’t turn around. 

You didn’t even look back.

*Five Years Later*

You shouldered the door open, arms full of papers. “I’m home!” 

“Mama!” A small shape barreled into you and you barely managed to hold onto the papers, handing them to your husband before scooping the three-year-old up.

“Otto! How was your day?” You pressed a kiss to Otto’s forehead before pecking Kieran on the cheek as you brushed by him into the sitting room. There was a fire going, smoke drifting up the chimney and you stood near it, warming hands chilled by the brisk fall air. 

“Good! Look what I made!” Otto wiggled out of your grasp and trotted over to the table, where after lots of jumping he finally managed to catch hold of something. He placed it in your lap, and you weren’t sure whether to be mad or touched. You settled for shooting a glare at Kieran before oohing and ahhing over the crudely carved figure.

“It’s you, Mommy! Like the one on the table!” 

Examining it closer, you could see something that looked like a sword. It was nowhere near the skill of Bifur’s carving that you still treasured, but it was very sweet nonetheless. 

“Wonderful job, darling.” 

“Are we going to the market today?” Otto looked up at you with pleading eyes.

“Why?” You shot a suspicious glance at Kieran, who assumed a very innocent expression.

“Because Da said that if we went to the market and got ingredients you would make the honey scones!”

“He did, did he?” 

Kieran looked guilty as you frowned at him.

“Don’t worry. Let’s put our boots on and head out!”

Otto jumped with excitement and ran to grab his boots. 

You crossed your arms and glared at your husband. “I cannot believe you let him use a knife.”

“He’s three! He’s old enough. Besides, I was watching him the whole time.”

“That doesn’t make it any better!” You threw your hands up in exasperation before kissing him. 

“But don’t worry, I still love you.”

“I love you too.” Kieran drew you in for a deeper kiss, and you responded enthusiastically.

“Let’s go!!” Your moment was interrupted by Otto, practically bouncing with excitement by the door. You laughed at him and wrapped your scarf, still holding up five years later, around your neck. Linking arms with Kieran, you giggled as Otto tugged on his hat from his perch on his father’s shoulders, and walked out the door. 

The streets of Dale were bustling, people going to the market, or the King’s house just down your street. 

Having been a hero of the Battle of the Five Armies, and one of two members of the company who had seen reason (the other being Bilbo, of course), you had a close friendship with King Bard. When you had marched into Dale after leaving Erebor, eyes still swollen with tears, he and his children had taken care of you, and it was because of him that you had met Kieran. 

Two months after leaving Erebor, you had been helping Bard train recruits for Dale’s army. Most of the men disliked being trained by a girl, but one had taken your advice and training exactly as he would a man’s. He had grown skilled, and after striking up a friendship had asked to court you. You had said yes, even though you weren’t over Thorin, but had quickly fallen head over heels in love. Kieran was perfect. He respected your fighting skills and didn’t mind your closeness to the king. He was sweet, kind, funny, and in his eyes every was perfect until proven otherwise. He always saw the best in people, never the worst. In other words, he was everything Thorin hadn’t been, and more. 

The two of you were married in a ceremony officiated by the King Bard six months after he had asked to court you, a year after leaving Erebor. Fili, Kili, and Balin had attended the ceremony, sneaking away from their royal duties for a day on the pretense of a diplomatic mission. You had kept your promise to write, and although the news of you finding someone else was hard for the two princes, they were happy your heart had started to heal. You had gotten pregnant two months later, news which was received with joy from everyone who heard. Upon reading your letter announcing the news that Fili decided to show him in the middle of a council meeting (later recognized as an extremely bad decision), Kili had let out a whoop of joy, looking guilty when everyone looked at him and promptly throwing the letter into the fire. You had laughed uproariously upon hearing this story from Fili the next time he made it to Dale. The day that Otto was born, your heart healed more. You still remembered the pain you had felt leaving Erebor, of feeling like you did not matter, but it was better now. You had been able to keep in touch with most of the company, all who had been to visit at some point after his birth. You didn’t know if Thorin knew you had moved on or had a child, but you were getting to the point where you could forgive him, just a little, for the past. 

Swinging your hand entwined with Kieran’s, you made your way through the market, stopping at all your favorite stalls to chat and pick out baking ingredients. Noticing Sigrid, Bard’s eldest daughter, picking up honey, you talked while inspecting the jars. 

“Da’s been taking half a jar to put in his tea, lately. I think he’s craving sugar.”

“More than usual?”

You laughed at Kieran’s comment. “Tell him we’re making honey scones tonight. I’ll bring some up later.”

“He’ll appreciate that, although hopefully, Bain doesn’t eat them all first like he did last time!” 

“I wanna eat all the scones with Bain!” Otto was feeling left out from his perch.

“I’m sure he’ll be pleased to have the company.” Sigrid giggled at him, passing a flower up to him before waving goodbye.

“She’s a good kid.” Kieran looked after her fondly.

“We’re not that much older than she is!” You pointed this out as you brushed flower petals out of his hair, Otto looking sad as his work was undone. 

“Now c’mon. We still need to buy more flour, especially if we’re making scones for Bard!” 

You set off again, laughing with your family as you wound through the market. You were in the middle of the artisanal section when a hush fell, the sea of people parting as something made its way through. You kept moving forward, pushing people aside to see what was happening, until you came face to face with Thorin Oakenshield, King Under the Mountain.

“Y/N.” He was the first to acknowledge you, looking as if it pained him to do so.

“Thorin.” There were gasps at your familiarity, but you didn’t care. You promptly turned around, grabbing your husband’s hand and dragging him, a silent Otto clinging to his shoulders, away. 

You didn’t look back this time, either.

“You didn’t tell me she had a child!” 

Thorin was back in Erebor, pacing around his chambers as Balin watched. He had been unable to think properly after seeing you in the market, and Fili and Balin had decided that the best course of action, or at least the one least likely to cause a diplomatic incident, was to reschedule the meeting with Bard and bring him back to the Lonely Mountain.

“You never asked.” Balin had resigned himself to having a hard conversation the minute he saw you in the market, he just didn’t know what exactly that conversation would be like. They had managed to keep the two of you apart for the last five years, but it was bound to happen sometime.

“But...she has a child.” Thorin was devastated. 

He had found out that you had kept in touch with the company six months after you left, coming across Kili reading a letter from you in the library. The fact that Kili was in the library in the first place was suspicious enough, and his doubts had been confirmed when he snuck up behind his nephew and read the letter over his shoulder. 

His gasp of, “She’s courting someone,” had been loud enough to startle half the library. Kili had jumped and tried to hide the parchment, but Thorin had simply crashed down into the chair, head in his hands. 

After taking several deep breaths, all the king said was, “She’s moved on. I have to as well,” before rising and brushing himself off, as if to brush the memories of you away. He had seemed fine, but Fili had heard the muttering coming from his room that night, of loss and grief and mistakes. 

After that, they had been much better at hiding their correspondence. The brothers had only decided to tell him about your life one more time, a year after you left, saying you had been married. He had taken that news well, it seemed, but Kili had heard the broken sobs coming from the king’s chambers late that night. 

“She cannot be happy with that- that man!” Now, Thorin seemed to be taking this news hardest of all.

“She is, lad. We’ve all seen her with them. They’re a family.” Balin was trying to calm him down, but it just wasn’t working.

“But, she’d be happier here. With me!” He was pacing the room now, raking his hands through his hair in greater distress.

“Thorin,” Balin grabbed him, stopping him so that the two were face to face, “you still love her.” 

The king staggered back, falling onto his bed. His head was in his hands again, almost mirroring how he had looked with Kili four years ago. 

“Lad?”

“Leave.” 

The one word was whispered, quieter than Balin had ever heard his king. He left, closing the door and signaling to the guard outside that the king was not to be disturbed.

The next morning, Thorin walked out of his rooms with an air of purpose about him. He was wearing an old cloak, to not be recognized as the king. Fili and Kili still managed to notice the distinct gait of their uncle and stopped him in the halls right near the gate. 

“Where are you going?” Kili looked concerned.

“Balin was right last night. I am still in love with Y/N, so I’m going to bring her back.” 

The identical looks of shock on his nephew’s face would have been hilarious in other circumstances.

“You’re still in love with Y/N?!” 

“Keep up, Kili!” Fili smacked his brother before continuing. 

“Uncle, I hate to say this, but remember how she looked at you yesterday? I don’t think she’ll be happy to see you.” 

Kili nodded at his brother’s words. “Besides, you’re the king. How are you going to convince the council when you failed five years ago?” 

Thorin looked a little surprised at that, as if he hadn’t quite thought that far ahead, but shook it off. “She will be happy to see me this time. I’m going to Dale.”

“Uncle, no!” Kili tried to block his way, but Thorin shoved past him, disappearing quickly.

“Follow him to Dale, I’ll tell Balin and the rest of the company.” Fili brushed his brother off and turned to go back to the royal wing as Kili disappeared after their uncle. 

You were making your way through the twisting streets of Dale, delivering scones to friends as you went. You had stopped at the market to give some to the honey-vendor, who always appreciated them, before turning back the direction you came. You stopped back home to pick up the basket you had made for Bard, walking in on Kieran and Otto stuffing their faces with scones and looking incredibly guilty, before continuing the walk up the hill. You were ushered in by Hakon, as usual (Bard didn’t like keeping servants, he said it made him feel “stuffy,” but a king was afforded certain privileges), and you gave him a grateful smile as he took your heavy scarf to hang up. 

“I have scones!” You entered Bard’s office, plopping the basket on his desk from which he immediately grabbed one. 

“Delicious.” 

You smiled at his praise, laughing as Bain burst through the doorway behind you.

“Did I hear scones?” He quickly dove for the basket, grabbing two.

“One for each hand!” He tried to justify this before shrugging and taking a bite, giving you a thumbs up.  

“I’ve got to go home, make sure Kieran and Otto aren’t in a food coma, but I’m glad you like them!” 

The king and his son nodded at you, waving goodbye as their mouths were still stuffed with a scone.

“And save some for the girls!” You left with that, laughing at their sad faces. 

It was pleasant out, the sort of fall day you looked forward to, so you decided that Kieran and Otto could spare you for a little while, just long enough for you to take a walk on the walls of the city. 

The view of the mountain was gorgeous from here. When you had first left, you had spent hours staring, wondering if you had made a mistake by leaving. Now, you just liked to appreciate the view.

“Want to come back?”     

You jumped, spinning to see Thorin standing behind you. You hadn’t really paused to look at him the day before, but now you noticed he looked different. Not bad, but it didn’t look as if he’d found happiness the way you had.

He stepped forward. “Y/N. I’ve come to ask you to rejoin me in the mountain.”

Your jaw dropped. “What? Do you want me to move in with my family? That seems like a bad idea.”

“No, Y/N,” he took your hand and you were too surprised to remove it from his grasp, “I want you to be my queen.”

You laughed and jerked your hand away. It wasn’t a sound of amusement, no. It sounded empty.

Hollow. 

“We saw how well that went last time.” 

“No, Y/N. This time I mean it. Come to Erebor.”

“I’m happy here, Thorin. I have a husband and a child.”

“Your child can come too, and I’m sure I can do much better for you than that man!”

Your cheeks reddened with anger as you balled up your fists, trying to restrain yourself. “I’m happy here, Thorin! I don’t need you to take me to Erebor when I have everything I could possibly want already!”

He looked as if you had physically hit him.

“Y/N, you deserve more than this, though! The council won’t be any trouble this time.”

“And you think you’re the one who can give me what I deserve?” You laughed again, the hollow sound caught by the wind.

“No, dwarf. I have everything I deserve right here and I’m not going to let you ruin it. This is my happiness, and I will be damned if I let you take that away!”

“Y/N-”

“No. I wasn’t worth fighting for then, I know I won’t be worth it now.”

“But I love you, Y/N.”

“And I loved you, once. But you’re too late.”

He watched as you walked away for the third time, knowing that this was the last.

You didn’t look back.

Kieran knew something was wrong the minute you walked through the door. 

“Otto, say bye-bye to Mama and get ready to go with Sigrid!” He strode over to you and hugged you quickly before pulling away. 

“Sigrid’s going to take Otto for a few hours.” 

“Thank you, Sigrid.” You mustered a smile for her as she tugged her boots back on. 

“Of course! C’mon Otto, Bain’s waiting!” She giggled as the child trotted out of his room, looking squishy and adorable in his winter clothes.

He ran over to you and you bent down and hugged him. 

“I love you, Mama!” 

You kissed his forehead before ushering him to Kieran, who got the same treatment before Otto trotted over to Sigrid and grabbed her hand. 

“Bye Y/N! Bye Kieran!” You lifted a hand in farewell as they left, waiting for the door to close behind them before collapsing into Kieran’s arms.

He immediately started to murmur to you, whispering reassurances in your ear as he guided you to sit next to him. He waited for your sobs to fade before speaking.

“What happened?”

“I went for a- a walk on the walls and I ran into Th- Thorin,” you choked out, voice breaking when you said his name.

You could see Kieran’s face soften in understanding. 

“Did he harm you?”

You shook your head. “He wanted me to marry him. He…” you hesitated as you saw Kieran’s eyes spark with anger, but continued. 

“He said you weren’t good enough for me. I told him you were better than I deserved.”

His eyes lightened again and he pressed a kiss to your cheek. 

“Do you need to talk it out?” That was one of the things you loved about Kieran, he didn’t offer solutions or try to fix all your problems, he just listened. He knew that when you had an issue, you just wanted someone to talk to, not to come up with ideas but just to support you.

You nodded. “I just, I felt so bad for him. And I know I shouldn’t, but he just seems so lonely.”

“Do you want to go back? He’s right, you deserve more than me.” 

Your head snapped up. “No! Kieran, why would you think that? I’m happy here. I have the perfect husband and a wonderful child, and I wouldn’t trade any of that for the world.”

He still looked doubtful. 

“Kieran, he broke my heart five years ago, and yes, I was in love with him then, but you picked up the broken pieces and helped me heal. I’d never leave you.” 

You kissed him on the lips this time, trying to convey just how much he meant to you. “I love you,” you whispered, pulling away. 

“I love you too.” He pulled you back in for another kiss. When you broke apart you lay your head on his chest as he moved to lay down. 

“Let’s take advantage of the extra rest before Otto gets back.”

You laughed at him and felt the rumble of his chest as his breaths deepened, watching him fall asleep. As you faded into unconsciousness, you couldn’t help but think that after all you’d been through, you were so unbelievably lucky to have found Kieran. 

Thorin had never understood what people meant when they called Erebor The Lonely Mountain. Now, walking up to the gates alone, he got it. Something was missing, something that he’d never noticed before but now felt the absence of more keenly than ever. He couldn’t believe that he had failed to win you back. He hadn’t realized just how much he had hurt you five years ago, but the pain in your eyes had made it very clear. 

“I’m sorry, Uncle.” Kili appeared next to him as he walked up to the gates. 

Thorin ignored him, ignored the salutes and waves he got from his subjects as he made a beeline for his rooms, Kili dashing around in his wake to fix the wounded pride of every dwarf he ignored. 

Once Thorin made it to his rooms he locked the door behind him, taking slight delight even through his misery at the thump meaning Kili had crashed into it, before collapsing in his chair. 

He still was in shock. No, not shock, he was devastated. It had never occurred to him that you would be happy in Dale, wouldn’t want to rule a kingdom. He had thought that he wasn’t in love with you for the better part of five years, and once he realized he still was he hadn’t thought you wouldn’t feel the same. 

A knock sounded at the door. “Please let us in, Uncle.”

Thorin sighed and went to undo the bolts. 

Fili and Kili entered, both looking much more subdued than usual. Fili took in how Thorin’s coat was thrown on the floor, his boots tossed haphazardly in each direction and sighed. 

“What do you need?” Despite knowing how Thorin had hurt you, Kili couldn’t help but feel bad for his uncle. He had never seen Thorin like this. He looked broken. 

“I need to be alone.”

His nephews nodded, actually obeying him for once, and slipped out the door. 

Thorin was again left alone with his thoughts. Somehow, he had realized that you had been his One. That was why he had said out to make things better. But he had failed. He had lost his One, the only person who he could ever love didn’t love him back. 

Thorin buried his head in his hands, letting out a broken sob. For the fourth time in his life, he had failed. He was too late. 

Everything tag <3: @entishramblings @itgetsatadhazy @anjhope1 @boyruins

Thorin tag <3: @lathalea

[ladyeliot]

It will always be you

Prequel: Stay with me

Pairing: Tony Stark x Avenger Female Reader

Summary: The snap has happened, the return of Wakanda has not been as you all expected, but now you have to face reality, and you just can't stop thinking about him, about Tony.

Warnings: Angst, Fluff.

Word count: 4101

A/N: Post Infinity War. Some of the dialogue is taken from the film. Sorry for my spelling and grammatical mistakes, English is not my native language, I am learning.

Reader Powers: Psionic. You use psionic force to track any sentient being. You also create psychic shields to protect yourself. You can project psychic force bolts which have no physical effects but which can affect a victim's mind, causing them pain.

Life is a continuous struggle of choices that you have to make without stopping to think for a second. It is said that hope is the last thing to be lost, probably because the choice you made almost left you without it. You must also learn that happiness is the last thing to be found, probably because the choice you have made has made you unhappier than you will ever be. Your life has been full of choices, you might have regretted many of them, but you decided at the time to make them, so you never allowed yourself to regret your actions, until that day.

Three weeks after Thanos snapped, hope was completely lost. The new facility has been uncharacteristically silent, no one has been able to say more than two words in a row, and you had barely managed to say one since your return from Wakanda. Steve Rogers, Natasha Romanoff, James Rhodes, Bruce Banner and you, those were the surviving Avengers, the ones that life had given you a second chance, but it didn't really feel like one.

You were in your old room, old because two years ago one of your decisions had taken you away from that place, yes, you were against the Sokovia Accords, that had led you to take the side of the Captain and to fight against the side of Iron Man, who had been the person who had saved you from the madness that your powers had generated in your mind. But even if you had turned against him, you knew you owed him everything. Evidently this was something he didn't understand, which led to a wide rift that had never been bridged on either side, and which led to a breakdown in your relationship of closeness.

Every corner of that room had been kept exactly as you had left it that night when you fled with Wanda. Your drawings together with the charcoals scattered on the desk, the book 'In Search of Lost Time' by Marcel Proust on the bedside table and that bracelet that Tony had given you for your 26th birthday that you had left next to the open jewellery box on the bed. It was really painful to see all of this, knowing that those facilities would probably never be what they once were, that Wanda would not suddenly appear at your door, that you would never sit around the dinner table and that Tony would not occupy the armchair next to your bed to try to cheer you up after a mission that hadn't gone so well. You didn't know whether frustration was taking over the fear and sadness or whether you just didn't know how to control your feelings on that occasion.

The days were long, each of you working in silence trying to make sense of what had happened, looking for a solution that would never come to the problem. You shared the hours, but the solitude that enveloped you was too austere to realise that there was a person by your side. You didn't know Thanos' location, however, even if you did, especially if you did, it had become clear that you could not stand alone against his entire army.

"Would you like some?" asked Natasha offering you a plate with a veggie sandwich on it, which you took with an almost soundless 'thank you'.

Yes, actually that had been your first word in five days, since you said goodnight to Bruce last Sunday, food and sleep were not high on your priorities, especially when you spent the night using your telepathic detection trying to find some sign of life that would make you believe Tony was alive, but it was useless. Your psionic senses allowed you to track any sentient being, you were able to scan large areas, but your ability did not address the entire universe.

That night your spirits seemed to be running low to the ground, three weeks without having achieved anything that would allow you to have any lucidity in your plans was too long as the situation stood. You could hear in the background a soft murmur coming from a conversation between Natasha and Steve, but you weren't really paying attention to it, it was all in your thoughts. But at that instant, an inner burst made them evaporate. A signal came into your brain, a psionic emanation that alerted you to the presence of a spaceship entering the stratosphere, with a fixed direction, yours. You rose from your chair, standing upright, capturing the attention of the people around you. You closed your eyes, heightening all your senses, taking in all the information that was coming to you, at that moment you felt it. You opened your eyes and looked at them.

"He's here," were the only words you could utter before you rushed outside. Your companions soon followed your path, asking questions to explain what was happening, but your inner euphoria prevented you from saying a single word.

That ship appeared above you as you raced across the garden, night was falling relentlessly and you could only glimpse a halo of light that seemed to direct the ship as it landed delicately on the wide grassy esplanade. The five of you paused, taking in the scene, discovering how a side door opened to project a flight of stairs. When you saw his face for the first time your lungs deflated, letting out all the air they had accumulated over a long period of time. Your body went rigid and you didn't react until Steve ran past you and approached the ship to help him down.

He looked terrible, it was evident in every facial feature and in his body movements, you knew what you had been through, but you had no idea what Tony had been through since his disappearance in New York, although you could get a pretty good idea. Before your eyes were Steve and Tony in custody, reunited again, after all that had happened, none of it mattered, at least not to you, and perhaps you had a vain hope that it didn't matter to anyone else either. Even so you didn't know how to act when your eyes connected with his, for a slight moment you wanted to approach him, offer him a hug and tell him that you were relieved to discover that he was there, with you, after all, but you chose to stay where you were, next to Natasha.

It wasn't until you headed inside that the stiffness disappeared from your body. A whispered 'are you okay' from Steve made you react again and pay attention to Natasha's words that were projecting all the information gathered during those days.

"The governments are destroyed," she reported as she projected images showing the missing, like Wilson, Maximoff and Parker, among others, "the working parts are trying to do a census, and it looks like he did it. He did what he said he would do. Thanos wiped out 50% of all living things."

Silence echoed around you, you were sitting in an armchair, somewhat away from the other members, playing with your fingers, trying not to look up, until he spoke.

"Where is he now?" asked Tony. "Where?"

"We don't know," Steve informed him from beside you, sitting at a table. "He opened a portal and went through it. We looked for Thanos for three weeks, with deep space scanners," Steve looked at you, "and satellites, and we found nothing." He looked at Tony. "Tony, you fought him."

"What are you talking about?" asked Tony from his wheelchair. "I didn't fight him. No, he wiped my face with a planet while the wizard gave away the store. That's what happened, there's no fight..."

You took a breath and sighed, because you could contemplate what was about to happen right now, the nerves were there along with the negativity and failure of some of the superheroes on that planet and others, and you knew it could explode at any moment.

"Tony, I'm going to need you to focus..." Steve repeated again hoping that Tony would offer him some clue as to the whereabouts of Thanos.

"I needed you," interrupted Tony in a raised tone. "as in past tense.  That trumps what you need. It's too late, buddy. Sorry." He used a second of his silence to look at Steve and another second to look at you, who stood beside him. You took in most of the feelings hidden in his gaze, and none of them were positive or forgiving. "You know what I need? I need a shave," he tried to get out of the wheelchair, taking everything on the table in his stride. "I don't believe I ever remember telling you this..." he ripped out the IV that connected the drip to his left arm. "To the living and the dead, What we needed was a suit of armor around the world! Remember that? Whether it impacted our precious freedoms or not," he looked back at you and Steve repeatedly. "That's what we needed!”

The discussion continued, avoiding an upset Tony explaining everything he thought about the current and past situation, ignoring the suggestions Rhodes was giving him to calm down and take his seat again.

"[...] Bunch of tired old wheels!" he pointed at Steve. "I got nothin' for you, Cap! I've got no coordinates, no clues, no strategies, no options! Zero, zip, nada. No trust - liar."

Almost ipso facto he turned to you ripped off the reactor prostrate on his chest and handed it to Steve in his hand, leaving those present virtually speechless, if you still had any left.

"Here, take this. You'll find him, if you put that on. You hide-"

After those words you gazed again into his eyes full of resentment at the past, before his body could take it no more and he collapsed in the middle of the room.

In the hours that followed, you were the shadow of a ghost gazing at him from a distance from the door frame of one of the recovery rooms in the new complex. On the one hand fearing his reaction against you when he woke up, while on the other hand wanting to hear it because you knew that sooner or later it would come but you wanted it to come as soon as possible so that you could face it. Those words she had said to Steve were harsh, but they were really nothing to what you expected might happen. It seemed absurd at the time to have entertained the idea that it might have been forgotten.

"Bruce gave him a sedative," Rhodes said, looking up at you, who were leaning against the doorframe. "He'll be unconscious for the rest of the day. Do you want to sit down?"

"No...I'd better..." but Rhodes didn't allow you to finish your words, as he had risen from the armchair next to Tony and offered it to you. "Thank you."

The door to the room ajar to offer you some more privacy. As you turned your gaze towards him you realised the fragility his body conveyed in those moments, he had spent weeks wandering through space not knowing if he was going to get the chance to return home again and yet he had been able to stay alive and find himself there. You closed your eyes and settled back on the couch, you remembered the first time you did that with Tony, he had spent too much time without sleep after the events after the Chitauri invasion, he could barely sleep because of the nightmares and he begged you to stop them every night, so with your eyes closed you concentrated and invaded his mind with caution releasing the tension you found in it and giving him the peace he needed. When you opened your eyes again, her expression seemed to have changed, she seemed to have found some relief inside her, that fact made you smile. But a knock on the door woke you up.

"We need to talk," Steve's words sounded serious.

A new piece of information about Thanos' whereabouts came as a surprise, but for you the surprise came right after.

"Wait, is this some kind of punishment or something?" you said completely dumbfounded, just outside the room where Tony was, with what Steve was proposing. "Why me?"

"Because we need someone to stay with Tony," he said calmly crossing his arms.

"Is it because I'm the smallest of the whole team? Because I could really knock you all out right now with the blink of an eye," you said crossing your arms too.

"It's because Tony needs you," Steve lowered his tone, "and you need him."

There was nothing but truth in those words. You didn't know if Tony really needed you, but what you had assumed was that you'd needed him for a long time, and you'd put a lot of things before that need, creating your close relationship to go to shit, basically.

"I wouldn't forgive myself if something happened to you on this mission," Steve said frankly. "And he wouldn't forgive me either if I said that happened."

You lowered your face as you nodded, accepting his words and the job you had been given.

"Be very careful," you said before Steve disappeared from in front of you to take a path that you had no idea what could be in store for them.

From that moment on, the hours went by really slowly, you took your position in that armchair again, you needed to have a clear mind, you couldn't continue martyring yourself with all the events that had happened, so you started reading 'In Search of Lost Time', that book that had been forgotten on the bedside table since you left that place. News was nil, you barely got a sign of what might be happening and you knew it would probably be days before you got it. 

Night was falling on the compound again, Tony was barely making any sign of waking up, which also gave you time to consider how the situation would play out, and various possibilities for coping with it. Some of his belongings had been salvaged from the ship, and his helmet, or rather what was left of it, stared at you from the dresser in the room. Without having a reason in mind you approached him, causing a blue light to suddenly flash across his eyes, showing you his figure in the middle of the room.

"Is it on?" a figure of a seated, completely haggard Tony appeared before your eyes. "Hey, Ms. Y/L/N, Y/N," your brow furrowed, but you approached his reflection. "If you find this footage don't put it on social media, it'll be really tearful," his words brought a sad smile to your face. "I don't know if you'll watch these videos. I don't even know if you're still... Oh god, I hope so..." there was a silence from his words, but you could see him bring his hands to his face, something inside you cracked. "I guess it's easier to do this if you know the chances of seeing you again are practically nil," something inside you made your heart shrink. "I probably should have realised this a lot sooner," he fell silent, "yeah, but I was busy trying not to hate you too much, you know, when you decided to abandon me and choose the other side," exhaustion almost prevented him from keeping his eyes open. "Anyway, anyway that made me realise how important you had been to me," he let his gaze wander, "I tried to be there for you ever since I met you and... god, this is getting too depressing," he ran his hand over his face. "I just want you to know that I wish you were here, because you're the only person I'd like to share my last hours with," he nodded slightly, you knew what he was trying to say with those words, which made your eyes water. "Don't feel bad about this, I mean, if you stay prostrate for a couple of weeks... and then move on with immense guilt..." he hid his face in the palm of his hand and closed his eyes, you wiped away a tear that ran down your cheek keeping the bitter smile you had been wearing all along. "I want you to know... when I've fallen asleep, it will be like the nights we spent together. I'm fine. All right," he gestured towards you. "I'll dream of you. Because it will always be you."

Suddenly, as if nothing had happened, his image disappeared in front of your eyes, leaving you with hundreds of feelings invading your body and mind. You looked up and there he was, still there, sleeping pleasantly, barely knowing what had just happened. You hurriedly wiped away the last tear running down your cheek and sat back down, putting your feet up on the couch, unable to take your eyes off him. Perhaps those thoughts were drawn from his most desperate moments, believing that his life was about to come to an end, perhaps he was unwilling to show them to you now that he had resumed the course of his life, so even though it was not possible you tried to send them to a hidden place in your mind.

You had hardly slept in those three weeks, your mind hadn't rested for days and you didn't know why, but finding yourself curled up in that armchair next to Tony was giving you back the tranquillity your body hadn't known for too long. It was impossible to stop your eyelids from closing, on the contrary you were willing them to do so and for sleep to warmly invade your body, no matter how long you could stay asleep. That's how it happened, making the hours pass without you even noticing. 

Like a little gust of wind, something in your body made the light enter through your eyelashes. Slowly you opened your eyes, feeling in various parts of your body a tightness due to the position in which you had fallen asleep in that armchair. You discovered that a woollen blanket covered your limbs, but what kept you alert was the bed next to you was completely empty. Tony wasn't there. You jumped up, looking around, the bedroom door was ajar and Iron Man's helmet was missing.

"Tony?" you asked, raising your voice, stepping out into the hallway. "Tony! Where are you?"

You barely heard an answer, so you were thankful those powers were within you, you stopped in the middle of the corridor and closed your eyes, your receptors picked up a signal coming from downstairs, it was him. You found him leaning on the kitchen counter, his eyes closed as he tried to stand. You ran to him, grabbing his arm to hold him up.

"What do you think you're doing?" you said, leading him to the nearest armchair in the living room.

You discovered that he had shaved, taken a shower and was wearing one of his Tom Ford suits that were so recognisable to you. That meant he had been wandering around the house unsupervised for over an hour without waking you up. You knelt down next to him.

"Why didn't you wake me up?" you asked with a worried look on your face as you contemplated that he was extremely tired. "Bruce gave a set of instructions for you to follow, you can't just walk around..."

"It was your turn?" he cut you off with an angry tone. "Be my babysitter? How did you do it? Did you draw lots?" his countenance was serious, you could still see the puffiness in his eyes and his face fully dehydrated. "Whoever draws the shortest stick gets to look after poor Stark, all right, listen..."

"No! You listen to me," you cut him off, raising your tone above his, standing up and resting your hands on each armrest "Tony, we all lost. We all fought and lost, none of us made it," your face was three feet above his. "So now all we can do is try, in some completely illogical way, to move the situation forward. And if we can't, at least look to the future by doing our best to honour those we have lost."

Silence flooded over you.

"So please don't make the situation more complicated," you continued, lowering your tone, almost begging him. "If I've stayed with you it's because Steve has made me understand some things, because yes, it wasn't really my intention to stay with you from the start, but then I realised that if anyone had to stay with you it was me. I realised that if I had to risk my life again I didn't want to go on the mission, because that would mean never seeing you again.And I've also realised that I've needed you for a long time, that I'm finally by your side and I have no intention of separating from you. Whether you like it or not." Tony cut his gaze with yours by ducking it, but brought his right hand over yours.

That gesture provoked you to bring your other hand to his face, placing a gentle caress on his cheek.

"I know there are a lot of things we need to talk about, but one thing we do have is time," you explained as Tony intertwined his fingers with yours. "So please, don't do anything more stupid and don't disappear," maybe it was the atmosphere generated by the situation, but you risked saying the next words. "Because it will always be you."

Tony closed his eyes a little regretfully, a little embarrassedly, and brought his free hand to his face.

"I knew you saw that," he added calmly removing his hand from his face. "Well, at least I've saved myself from having to repeat it in person."

"I'm not sure I got it right," you said falsely. "You know, there was a lot of interference, and besides, I couldn't really understand what you were saying, so..."

"Sorry, there was only one pass for the film," he said wryly which caused you to smile widely as you rediscovered that the old Tony was still hidden in it. "We won't know when there will be a revival."

"Too bad, I really liked that movie," you sat down on the armrest without letting go of his hand and looking up at him.

"Really?" he asked for the first time modestly, and putting aside all the irony that surrounded the situation.

"Totally," you nodded, trying to express all the many feelings through your eyes.

Silence again kept you company, until Tony somewhat uncomfortably broke it.

"I suppose you know that by now I would have kissed you and created a fully effective plan to make love to you for hours until you begged me to stop in pleasure," he stated lamely, "although I think if you give me a couple of hours..."

"All right, Don Juan," you cut him off with a chuckle, "we'd better leave all that for later, and I'll take you back to bed now."

"I think it's a good start if you take me to bed," he continued with his insinuations.

You got up from the armrest and helped him put his arm around your shoulders, even though he repeatedly told you he could walk unaided. 

"Have we heard from the team?" he asked, slowly climbing the steps of the ladder.

"Soon," you said with a halo of hope. 

You definitely made it back to the room, having made it successfully through the journey. You helped him get rid of the shoes and shirt that his pride had forced him to wear, but which now made no sense when he was going back to bed.

"See, you're finally going to get what you wanted, I'm undressing you," you said jokingly causing a smile to appear on Tony's face as he lay back down. "You rest, I'll be here. I'll always be here."

Taglist Open (DM)

MAIN MASTERLIST

[whenisitenoughtrees]

If you’re still doing these, 33 with Moceit? ALL the fluff with perhaps a little dash of angst?

@thatoneloudowl i was gonna do a dash of angst but then i knocked over the angst jar and spilled a couple cups so. there is a little more than a dash. but the ending! is fluffy! don’t worry!!

for 33. Sometimes, I just want to cuddle, okay? Is that so bad?

Title: like a puzzle (we fit)

Word Count: 3,328

Content Warnings: mention of disordered eating, self-isolation as a form of self-harm

(fic masterpost w/ ao3 links)

These days, Patton wanders the mindscape like a ghost. Frankly, Janus is beginning to find it annoying.

Or at least, he would, if the sight didn’t make his heart clench, didn’t make his stomach turn, didn’t make some unidentifiable emotion rise up within him, threatening to spill out before he even lets himself acknowledge it. And he’s not acknowledging it, if only because doing so while Thomas’ mental health is in such a precarious position is a risk he’s not willing to take. But that’s not enough to stop him from watching Patton out of the corner of his eye, not enough to stop him from tracking his movements, from taking in the way he seems—

Well. Bereft seems like a good way to put it. Bereft of his usual spark, his usual joy. And bereft in another way, too, because as the time passes, Janus realizes something else: Patton is isolating himself.

It’s fairly obvious, at least to him, so he’s surprised that none of the others have picked up on it— or perhaps they have, and they’re ignoring it, but that seems like a level of maliciousness that he doesn’t think that the so-called “light” sides are capable of. Because Patton is suffering, and he can’t imagine that they would let him go on in this way if they knew, even if they are angry with him. So, they’re not cruel, just oblivious, and if the situation were any different, Janus might laugh about the fact that he of all sides is the only one to recognize that something is wrong.

But this is no laughing matter.

Patton’s face is pale and drawn, his eyes watery, his smiles wan and fake. He’s grown thinner, too, if Janus isn’t mistaken, and that is yet another cause for concern; Patton is not the best cook in the world, but that has never stopped him from trying. The fact that he’s stopped cooking, perhaps even stopped eating, is worrisome, and the worst thing about all of this is that Janus isn’t entirely sure what to do about it.

He knows self-care intimately, all of its practices, all of its uses. It’s his job, and in theory, getting Patton to take better care of himself should be easy for him. But Patton has always been particular about deserving things, and Janus doesn’t know that he’s reached the level of relationship that would allow him to persuade Patton that he doesn’t deserve to be treating himself this way. He’s not sure that he’s could convince him of it outright, and while he thinks that manipulating him to come to that point of view might be doable, the idea leaves a sour taste in his mouth.

Already, his judgment is being clouded by sentiment. He wishes that he were more upset about it than he is.

But whether he knows what to do or not, something needs to happen, and an opportunity arrives soon enough. He’s lounging in the common room— and the fact that he has the freedom to do that now is still nothing short of spectacular, frankly, not that he would ever admit as much out loud— when Patton comes down the stairs, bleary-eyed, and goes to fetch a glass of water from the kitchen. He watches, curious, as Patton passes him with barely a glance.

It is instinct to follow him. Patton doesn’t seem to notice his presence, so he leans against the doorframe, observing quietly as Patton fumbles a glass from the cabinet, almost dropping it, and sticks it under the tap to fill with water. He considers saying something when Patton gulps down half of it in one go, and again when Patton sighs, bracing himself against the counter. But it feels like an intrusion, somehow, and the words won’t come.

So, he doesn’t say anything, preparing himself to jump in the moment that Patton turns and sees him.

Patton turns and sees him.

“Hello, Pa—”

But Patton flinches violently, and Janus is cut off by the sound of glass shattering on the floor. All thoughts of having a cool, measured conversation fly out the window.

“Shit,” he says, “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to— here, just let me—”

He steps forward, choreographing his movement so Patton can avoid him if he wants, but Patton is staring at the ground, his eyes wide as they flit across the glass now scattered on the tile. He doesn’t react as Janus takes his elbow, guiding him away from the glass shards, and he doesn’t react when Janus snaps his fingers, getting rid of the mess entirely.

Janus’ concern grows.

“Patton?” he asks. “Patton, are you with me?”

Slowly, Patton blinks. His gaze comes into focus, and then he smiles, a smile so clearly plastered on, so clearly fake that it sits like a physical weight in Janus’ gut.

“Janus!” he chirps. “Hi! Sorry about that, I’m not sure what came over me. Guess I’ve got a real case of butter fingers today.” He waves his hand, holding a Butterfingers bar between his fingers, and Janus frowns. He knows a deflection when he sees one, though he’s less certain that Patton realizes that he’s doing it in the first place. By now, he wouldn’t be surprised if it’s an ingrained instinct.

Look away, Patton is saying. Wasn’t that a funny joke? Pay attention to the joke, not to me. I’m alright.

“I should be the one apologizing,” he says. “I startled you.”

Patton laughs. “That’s alright,” he says. “Really, I guess I just wasn’t paying enough attention. Was there something that you needed?”

He maintains a blank face with an effort. “Do I need to have a reason to spend time with you?” he asks, and there is the first crack: a moment of bewilderment passing across Patton’s face, as if he can’t possibly believe that someone would want to be around him for the sake of his company. It’s a familiar look, a bitter one, one he would never admit aloud to having seen in his own mirror.

“Of course, I would love to talk to you,” he continues. “But only if you’re amenable.”

Patton squints at him, and this, too, is familiar ground, as Patton tries to figure out whether he’s sincere or not. He waits patiently as Patton’s expression folds into something just a little more genuine, tinged with relief.

“Sure,” he says. “I’d love to talk for a little while.”

Something sour coats Janus’ tongue; a half-truth, then, though which half, he can’t tell. Patton is almost as practiced in lying as he is, though his are so often self-directed. But for now, he will take the admission at face value, and as he walks over to the couch, Patton follows, settling on the cushions next to him, and that is what is important.

“In all honesty, I wanted to know how you were doing,” he says, keeping his voice as gentle and sincere as he possibly can. It doesn’t come naturally to him, but somehow, it is easier when it is Patton. Easier to open up, easier to express his true concerns. Easier to allow himself to care, and he wishes he didn’t have to read into that, but he knows very well what it means, even if he’s shelving it to be considered at a later date. “It’s been some time now since the wedding, but I couldn’t help but notice that you haven’t been spending much time around the others lately.”

The wince is so quick that Janus half-wonders if he imagined it. But no— it was masked quickly, but it was there.

“Well, you know how it is,” Patton says. “Everyone’s so busy lately, me included! You know, with Nico and all.”

Janus feels his chest fill with warmth at the mere mention of the name, though he keeps his infatuation off his face as well as he can. There is not a single side in the mindscape that isn’t taken with Nico, completely and utterly, and Janus is unashamed to count himself among their number. Nico is who Thomas wants at the moment, after all, and Janus is always eager to let Thomas act on his wants.

But bringing him up now is nothing more than another distraction, one that he sees through immediately.

“I don’t know at all,” he agrees, “But, Patton, I can’t help but feel as though this is something else.” He flicks through a couple of options in his mind, wondering what will get through to him the best. After a moment of consideration, he reaches out and places a hand on Patton’s arm. It’s awkward; casual physical contact is not something he’s particularly practiced in. But Patton doesn’t seem to mind it, or at least, he doesn’t move away, though he appears a bit startled. “You’ve moved past busy into outright avoidance.”

Patton’s jaw works. “I’m not avoiding—”

“Patton.”

Patton stops and looks at him for a moment. And then, he slumps in on himself, like a marionette with its strings cut. “Am I that obvious?” he asks, and he sounds so miserable that for a moment, Janus wants nothing more than to wrap him up in his arms and hold him until his pain goes away. An unusual instinct for him, but perhaps it makes sense; Patton has always liked hugs, as far as he knows, so it’s not unreasonable that his first thought would be to offer one.

His drive for self-preservation goes far beyond preserving himself, after all.

“Not really,” he says, “but you know how I’m so terribly unobservant.” He pauses, and then goes on, more quietly. “I won’t force you to talk to me if you would rather not. But we’ve had the conversation about repression before. Multiple times, if I remember correctly.”

Patton laughs, but there’s no warmth in it. Just something sad, self-deprecating.

“No, no, you’re right,” he says. “And I know it’s not good, I just—”

He waits, and Patton draws in a breath.

“I’ve been thinking,” he says, “about my mistakes a lot, lately. And I— I understand that it’s okay that I make them, and that I can’t be perfect, and as long as I try my best to fix things and do better then it’s alright, but it’s just that— Roman’s been so happy lately, you know? Because he finally got something that he wanted. And it just sort of hit me that I’ve been keeping him from having that for so long. He hasn’t been happy in so long, and I’m not even sure that anyone’s been happy in so long, and it’s all my fault because I’ve been saying that it’s wrong to want things for yourself, but it’s not really wrong at all and I know that now, but I just don’t know how to—”

“Patton,” Janus says, squeezing his arm, “please, breathe.”

Patton stops, looking at him, which isn’t exactly what he meant him to do, but he’s breathing, at least.

“Is this why you’ve been avoiding them?” he asks. “Because you’ve been worrying about this?”

Patton glances down, his hands twisting into the hem of his shirt.

“I just don’t want to hurt them again,” he says, voice small, and Janus is surprised at his own flash of anger. Who it’s directed at, he can’t say. The others, perhaps, for letting it get this bad. Himself, for not seeing it sooner.

“I understand that,” he says, “but even if you weren’t letting yourself magnify your missteps, which you are, by the way, you can’t possibly believe that they’d want you to hurt yourself instead.”

Patton jerks. “I’m not—”

“Oh, you’re not?” He breathes out sharply through his nose, trying to regain some of his composure. If this were any other side, he would feel comfortable in berating them from dawn to dusk, but Patton is too fragile for that right now. Even he can recognize as much. “Patton,” he says, softer, but firm, “when was the last time you ate?”

Patton’s brow furrows. “This morning,” he answers, “or— no. Wait. It had to have been— no, that’s not it either.” The corners of his eyes pinch as he tries to work through it, and while Janus has to admit that it is some relief to know that he hasn’t been denying himself food on purpose, the fact that the question is a difficult one at all is still very concerning.

“I—” Patton stops, stutters. “I guess I haven’t been very hungry lately. I didn’t think it had been that long—”

“It’s alright,” Janus interrupts, even though it isn’t, because there is an edge of panic beginning to creep into Patton’s voice, and he would like to avoid that if he can. “Well, we can work on it, at any rate.”

Patton’s hands are trembling. He pauses, considering for a moment, and then reaches out to take them in his. The contact is startling, despite the fact that he initiated it, and judging from the way Patton stills, the sentiment is shared. It is almost enough to make him pull away again, writing the venture off as a bad idea, but he doesn’t want to give Patton the wrong impression, doesn’t want him to assume that he stopped for any reason other than his own hangups about touch.

“That is,” he says, “if you’ll allow me to help. I can’t force you into anything. Ultimately, you’re your own person. Or rather, your own part of a whole person. But that means that the decision is up to you.”

Patton doesn’t reply. He’s staring at where their hands are connected, his face twisted into an expression that Janus can’t even begin to describe, and a horrible suspicion enters his mind.

Self-isolation can be a form of self-harm, too, and Patton has always been so tactile by nature.

“How long has it been since you last touched someone?” he asks, and Patton startles, yanking his hands out of Janus’ grip like he’s been burned. Janus tries not to let it sting.

“That’s not—” he says. “That’s not a big deal. I can— I don’t have to— and I didn’t want to bother anybody, so I—”

“Right, because asking people for a bit of physical contact is such a bother,” he says, his voice veering sharper than he intends.

“Isn’t it?” Patton asks, and Janus rears back at his tone. “Everyone’s dealing with their own things right now, so why should they have to help me on top of that? And besides, I’m clingy, and nobody—”

“Who told you that?”

Generally, he refrains from trying to murder his fellow sides, if only on the principal that they’re all needed for Thomas to function properly, but if it turns out that one of them has caused this, that one of them has called Patton clingy, made him think that seeking out affection when he needs it is somehow wrong, or a burden on others, then he refuses to be help responsible for his actions.

“No one had to tell me that,” Patton says. “But it’s true, isn’t it? I’m too much, and I’ve been trying to be better about that too, but it’s just—”

No.

No, no, no.

“No,” he says. “It’s not true. You’re not too much, not when it comes to things like this, and anyone who has ever told you otherwise is wrong. No—” He raises a hand when Patton goes to cut him off, though he doesn’t actually exercise his silencing ability. Repressing Patton now would be the exact opposite of helpful. “And that includes yourself.” He reaches out and takes Patton’s hands again, holding on tight. He can feel how tense Patton is, how every muscle in his body has stiffened.

“Please,” Janus says. “Tell me what you want.”

Patton’s eyes well up with tears. His lips quiver. The silence stretches on.

And finally:

“I— sometimes, I just want to cuddle, okay? Is that so bad?” It’s a whimper, a plea, and really, Janus is absolutely going to kill each and every last inhabitant of the mindscape for neglecting Patton like this, for allowing him to believe that something so simple as cuddling him would be a chore, would be too much. He’s going to kill them, but later, because here and now, Patton needs him more than he needs any acts of violence, no matter how well-deserved.

“Of course it’s not,” he says, and hopes that the sincerity comes through, hopes that Patton doesn’t assume he’s lying. “Come here.”

And even as he draws Patton closer, he begins to panic. He has never done this before, never been asked to do this; generally, the others have always assumed that he likes his space, and usually, that’s true enough that he’s never bothered to correct the notion. It’s had the added benefit of keeping Remus at arm’s length when he’s difficult to handle, but he would be lying— ha— if he said that he’d never considered the drawbacks before now, never let himself wonder what it would be like to have someone else so close to him.

He’s never cuddled. Never been cuddled, never cuddled someone else. So really, he is possibly the absolute worst side for Patton to be stuck with right now.

But he’s what Patton’s got, so he tugs Patton up against his chest, wrapping his arms around him. Patton makes a noise, something between a gasp and a whine, but it only takes a second for him to melt into the touch, all of his weight landing firmly against Janus’ body as he goes limp as a ragdoll.

It’s an awkward position. He doesn’t know anything about cuddling, but he’s fairly certain that it’s supposed to be more comfortable than this.

He wonders if the fact that he feels like his skin is on fire is typical, or if that’s just him. A consideration for later, maybe, though his heart is beating almost too fast to ignore.

“Here,” he says, “let’s—”

He pulls back, heart panging at Patton’s soft whimper, but he settles himself on the couch, a sprawling position halfway between sitting and lying down. He beckons, then, and Patton wastes no time before lurching forward, draping himself along Janus’ body, and this— this feels right, somehow, their limbs slotting into all the right places, curving against each other, and Janus places his hands on Patton’s back to keep him in place. Not that he needs to; Patton doesn’t seem to want to go anywhere.

Patton tucks his face underneath his chin, resting against the hollow between his neck and collarbone. Janus has to suppress a whimper of his own. He’s never been touched there. Not ever.

He feels himself melting into Patton just as much as Patton is melting into him. It’s new, and strange, and a bit terrifying, but he doesn’t want it to stop.

Patton lets out a sigh, long and low. “‘M sorry I was being dumb,” he murmurs, words barely intelligible.

“It’s not dumb to be scared, or to have self-doubt,” he replies, though it’s a struggle to make himself coherent. His brain feels mushy, his thought processes slow, like wading through knee-deep water. “You’re wrong, of course, but it’s not dumb.” He pauses. “And it’s definitely not dumb to want someone to take care of you.”

“‘M glad you’re here,” Patton mumbles. “I’m glad it’s you. Thank you, Janus.”

Something in his chest bursts, warm and brilliant, and he doesn’t think it’s the contact.

“Of course,” he says, fighting to speak past a mouth that has gone very dry. “Anytime.”

Patton shifts, snuggling closer, and he wonders if Patton realizes just how much he means it. Because he does, perhaps more than he has ever meant anything else.

He’s not ready to say it, yet, though. Not yet ready to make it known, to open himself up to that. So, for the moment, he holds Patton against him, and lets him rest. Safe, warm, and though unspoken, loved.

General Taglist: @just-perhaps @the-real-comically-insane @jerrysicle-tree @glitchybina @psodtqueer @mrbubbajones @snek-boii @severelylackinginquality @aceawkwardunicorn @gayerplease @elizabutgayer @dwbh888 @thatoneloudowl @sanderssides-angst @gayboopnoodle @wildfire5157 @ldavmp4 @a-ghostlight-for-roman @sammy-is-obsessed @imlovethomassanders @a-yeet-bop-bop-boom @halfords-hysteria @random-fander @addykatb @i-cant-find-a-good-username @intruxiety @maybedefinitely404 @arya-skywalker @thefivecalls @nerdy-emo-royal-dad @bisexualdisaster106 @teacupfulofstarshine @neo-neo-neo @lollingtothemax

[let-them-read-fics]

Ghostin'

Requested By @heyziggy: "Song prompt -- 'Ghostin' by Ariana Grande. Reader is dating Rosé and misses her lost lover."

Pairing: Rosé x Fem!Reader

Word Count: ~ 3,676

Warnings / Misc. -- Angst, Death, Crying, Some Cursing, Some Fluff, Happy Ending

Disclaimer: This writing is a work of fiction, and no disrespect is meant for those mentioned herein.

A/N: Did I write this between the hours of 1 and 8am? Yes, yes I did. Inspiration struck and I was able to crank this one out pretty quickly for you! I'm happy with it, and I really hope you guys enjoy it. Let me know what you think :)

🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤

There they are again. Those eyes that have haunted you for the past year, turning what little progress you've made to dust within a second. People say time heals all wounds, and yet that's never felt further from the truth than it does right now.

A rough tremble wracks through your body as you toss and turn, your limbs reaching out for someone that'll never be there again. She's calling out to you, her arms outstretched as she waits in vain. Your feet are rooted in their spot and no amount of effort possible can make them budge. Tears roll endlessly down your cheeks, a steady stream that feels all too real in the moment. As you scream out her name, you faintly hear your own being called; it's distant, but accompanied by a strong grip on your shoulders. 

"...Y/N." 

Upon jolting awake, your eyes open to find Rosé hovering over you, propping herself up on her elbow. A thin sheet of sweat has formed on your skin, and you attempt to ground yourself by looking up at her. Slowly but surely, her features overtake the ones still burning in your mind from the dream and you're able to breathe again. She brings a hand up to your cheek, brushing her cool fingers against it lovingly. 

Despite the darkness, you can see the bags underneath her beautiful eyes. "I'm sorry, baby." 

She simply shakes her head in response, whispering, "Shhh, it's okay. I'm here to take care of you." 

In one motion, you pull her into your arms and bury your face in her neck. This isn't the first time this has happened, and you curse yourself for forcing her to grow accustomed to it. She tries to disguise how much it affects her too, but her efforts are always futile; you can read her like a book, knowing that every time that name falls from your lips in a hushed shout, her heart breaks a little more. She doesn't blame you for a second, but neither of you can deny the strain it puts on your relationship. 

She adjusts the two of you so that you're laying against her as she soothingly rubs your back. Sweet words of affirmation are whispered into your ear, and the tears you've been holding back soon begin to fall. Some drop from her eyes as well, but she takes comfort in the fact that you're in her arms, allowing her to hold you. Most of the time you push her away, leaving yourself to suffer alone in some cruel form of self-punishment. But now, if only for tonight, you let yourself sink into her warm embrace.

----

1 Week Later -- The Anniversary

12 months ago, today. That's when your world shattered for the first time and everything fell apart. Your heart had been free of such pain until that fateful day, innocent and unaware that sadness like that even existed. That was the first time you ever truly questioned a higher power, baffled that any 'benevolent ruler' could steal such a bright light away from the world. Your first love -- the girl you once imagined spending forever with -- was killed in a hit and run, left to die alone on the pavement. 

A majority of your youth belonged to her: the two of you grew up together, slowly falling until you had enough courage to make her yours. Countless memories were made, back when you had no idea how much they'd mean to you in the future. Life was fun with her: she made the mundane things interesting, and the adventures unforgettable. She was unashamedly herself, never stopping for a moment to give a damn about what anybody else thought of her. The two of you had each other, and that's all that really mattered. She was everything to you.

She was. 

You still find her in the little things. Whether it be a commercial for her favorite cereal, a bottle of her signature perfume catching your eye as you shop, or even just a flash of her favorite color, you swear that she's still around. After spending so many years with her, it's nearly impossible to imagine her gone. She was so full of life and enthusiasm when her presence still graced the Earth that the thought of her being faded, that twinkle in her eye forever extinguished, seems like an insult to her legacy. 

How are you supposed to move on from something like that? Rosé has been one of the only things keeping your head above water ever since she walked into your life, but a limit exists to what even she is capable of. After getting absolutely no closure, not even being able to see the perpetrator brought to justice, you're left to pick up the pieces. You've always been the type to deal with things on your own, finding it selfish to bring your loved ones down with the weight of your pain, but even you have to draw the line somewhere. 

Perhaps that dream had been a sign -- some type of cosmic warning for what was soon to come -- because that line was crossed today. 

Her family requested for you to return to your home town and celebrate her life with them. The invitation was extended to everyone she had touched before her life was taken, and even those who wished to show their support despite not having the privilege of knowing her personally. You agreed, and spent the day surrounded by people just as sad as you.

It was strange, at first; being back in the place you had so desperately tried to run from to escape the reality of what happened. But seeing all of them again reopened wounds that had never really gotten the chance to heal in the first place. Her parents' faces, so tired and troubled beneath the mask they attempted to put on, struck a chord within you. Her brother tried to be strong for them, you could tell -- but upon hearing his stifled sobs coming from upstairs, you could see how much it all still affected him. Your old friends were there as well, and their stories of your shared escapades only broke your heart more. It was a physical pain now, the once dull pinch giving way to a full blown ache. As you walked around her house, replaying all of your experiences with her, you felt empty again. 

She meant so much to everyone she ever uttered a word to, and yet she was gone in the blink of an eye. You'd think that someone as incredible as her would get some sort of divine protection, if you will -- a blanket of defense against such a cruel fate. But life works in ways we don't understand, and we have to find a way to deal with that. You'd hoped returning here would help you on that quest, but you've come to learn that no one really has access to that elusive answer. 

Though the day brought on the reunion of so many of you, it ended just as it had started: none of you any closer to closure. It would take time, no doubt, but you wished more than anything that the road to peace was a little shorter. 

-----

Rosé

Sweet, incredible Rosé. She waltzed into your life two months after the incident. A breath of fresh air in every way, she brought light back into your life. She refused to stand by and watch as you slowly destroyed yourself, letting the walls crash down around you. She made everything secure again, successfully keeping you sane and grounded. 

Falling in love with her was never something you saw coming. The emotions took their time in building up, every considerate thing she did for you adding to your list of reasons for loving her. It all accumulated until you couldn't hide it anymore, and even she could tell that she was getting through to you. Your fragile heart seemed to forget about its brokenness, because it soared at the mere sight of her. 

The day she asked you to be her girlfriend was an emotional one, to say the least. You accepted without hesitation, but a nagging voice in the back of your mind suggested that being with Rosie was a treasonous act. Trying to move on felt wrong; your confused heart sent mixed signals, thinking it possible to wait for your ex's return. 

But Rosie dealt with it perfectly -- better than you could have ever wished for. Not one time did she try to take your ex's place; she always respected your process and boundaries, and she never drew comparisons between your relationships. Rosé knew from the get-go that times would get rough, but she never shied away. Arguments happened, as they do with any couple, but she watched her tone and always took time to think before she spoke. 

Constantly, she worked to get you to let her in. Sometimes -- rarely -- she succeeded. On the nights that you found yourself crying over her again, your heart aching like usual, Rosie was always next to you in an instant. She hated seeing you so distant and hard on yourself, and she vowed from the beginning that she would be a positive influence in your life. 

------

The Birthday

2 weeks ago, Rosé had requested today off in order to be by your side. Your ex's birthday is today, and Rosé knows you'll need her more than you're willing to admit. 

"Baby, wake up. Let's get some breakfast." 

She rolls over to wake you with a kiss, only to find you already sitting up with tears in your eyes. She reaches up to wipe them away, but you dodge her hand before she can. That's what she can't stand. Having you push her away, effectively keeping her at arm's length, hurts her so much more than you know.

Although she's talented at reading you, truth be told Rosé has absolutely no idea how today will go. You've yet to experience a day like today -- your ex's birthday -- without her here, and even you don't know what'll happen. Your mood is capable of changing in a whipstitch, so you'll have to see how the day plays out.

"Y/N, please." Her eyes are pleading as you look at her again, and they rake over your sad features. Your bottom lip trembles as more tears threaten to overflow, and you sink your teeth into it to quiet yourself. Wordlessly, you do as she asks: you press your forehead against hers and let out a broken sigh as she strokes your arm. Her touch is comforting beyond belief, and you can't help but feel like you don't deserve it. Constantly putting her through the same shit makes you feel like a terrible person. 

"You're too good to me." 

She goes to shush you like always, but you don't drop it this time. 

You gently scoot away from her, meeting her eyes as she mimics your actions and raises her head. 

"I can see that it gets to you, Rose. I hate myself for hurting you… I just keep letting you down."

She's prepared to ease your fears from the start, not willing to get into an argument right now. "Stop, okay? I knew what I was signing up for when we started dating. I'm a big girl, Y/N. I can decide when I want to stay and when I want to go. I knew from the beginning that we would have these struggles, and none of it has made me change my mind about you."

Her words make your heart flutter, but you still have plenty on your mind to discuss with her.

"You deserve someone without so much baggage. I can't pretend like I'm not still affected by it."

"When have I ever asked you to do that?" She cocks her head to the side, quirking an eyebrow as she waits for you to respond. 

"You don't have to, babe. Seeing what it does to you is confirmation enough." You shrug lightly, allowing your eyes to break away from hers for a moment as you gather up what other words you want to say.

"You'll never admit it, not to the full extent, anyway, but I know I'm hurting you. That's the last thing I want; you deserve to be with someone who makes you happy." 

"Jagi, do you really think our relationship makes me unhappy? I'll admit that this isn't always easy, but no relationship is, and never once have I even thought of leaving. You seem to forget about yourself in all of this; your happiness is just as important as mine."

She chooses to ignore the self-deprecating scoff you let out at her last sentence, opting to just continue with her train of thought; convincing you to value yourself is a battle for another day.

"So please, let me in. I want us to get through this." 

"I do too, baby. So so much. I just can't help but think you could find someone better. I'm a fucking charity case at this point." You drop your head now, avoiding eye contact at all costs. You know she'll be upset with you for thinking so lowly of yourself, but her disappointment almost certainly pales in comparison to the contempt you hold for yourself.

With a heavy, tired sigh, Rosé hooks two fingers underneath your chin and gently lifts your head. "Y/N, look at me. I don't know how to make it any clearer to you: you are the person I want to be with. I want you in my future, and in order to make that happen I'm more than willing to help you deal with your past. I know it's not simple; I know it's never going to be easy; but I want you. All the strings attached."

You blink at the sincerity behind her words, a bit taken aback that she's so steadfast in her decision to stay with you. You've spent so much time convincing yourself that she's only with you because she feels sorry for you that you were blind to the true extent of her love. It's consistent and unwavering, and you've never felt more valued than when you're with her. To her, you never were nor will you ever be a charity case; she loves you because you're imperfect; because you need her just as much as she needs you. 

"Okay." 

The simple word from you is more than enough to put Rosie at ease, and she doesn't even try to stop the smile that spreads across her cheeks as you pull her into your lap for a hug.

A light squeak from the bedsprings serves as the only sound in your room as you silently hold one another. She knows that 'okay' was your way of telling her you're ready to let her in. 

"I love you." You whisper against her neck, allowing your lips to brush against her soft skin. Both of your collars are wet with tears following the emotional moment you just had, but neither of you care. 

"I love you, too, baby." She returns, pressing a kiss to your temple. 

After spending a moment just holding one another, communicating your emotions through light touches and kisses, you lift up onto your knees and lay her back onto the bed. She cups your cheeks, loving how they feel beneath her fingertips as you stare into her eyes. Your hands sit on either side of her torso to hold you up, keeping you in place as you smile down at her. Intimate moments like these hold a special place in her heart, and she can never get enough of them.

"I'm so afraid of losing you, Rosie. God, you have no idea how much the thought of it terrifies me." You shut your eyes now, willing away the images of a life without her.

For some reason she had never really considered that to be a cause for your unreachability before. Looking back now, it makes perfect sense; losing someone so close to you in such an unexpected way can definitely make you afraid of getting close to people again. What if you lose them, too?

"I can't predict the future, my love, but I can promise you that I'll spend the rest of my days on this Earth next to you. And I'll find you in whatever comes after, too; you're not getting away from me that easy." 

The last sentence is playful, and you smirk at her lightheartedness. She knows just what to say to lighten the mood.

"You're the greatest." You say, leaning down to capture her full lips in a meaningful kiss. She hums into it, pulling you flush against her body as she flips you over. 

"Oh really?" She teases, pressing feather-light kisses to your jaw. She can feel your heartbeat pick up, and she grins cockily at the effect she has on you.

"M-mhm." You mutter out with a slight stutter, tracing your hands down her body before letting them rest on her hips. 

"Why don't you show me, then?" She's straddling you now, and she pulls away from your neck to gaze down into your darkening eyes. 

Soon the room is filled with a high pitched squeal as you pounce, pushing her backwards until her back hits the mattress again. 

"As you wish, princess." You say, giving her a little salute before kissing her again. 

She smiles against your lips and lets out a joyous giggle at your antics. 

-------

The Second Anniversary 

"Are you ready, baby?" She asks, turning to look at you and gauge your reaction. 

You let out a jagged breath, the air leaving your lungs a bit unevenly as you try to steady yourself.

With a nod, you exit the car and walk around to open Rosie's door. "Such a gentlewoman." She says, garnering a genuine smile from you. Her playful tone calms you, and you peck her lips in a sweet kiss. 

"Come on, let's go inside." 

At your words, she slips her hand into yours and the two of you begin your journey towards the house. 

The rest of the day goes by better than you had ever imagined possible: Rosé joined conversations easily, and she offered plenty of comfort to everyone in need of it. Her presence is enough to lessen anyone's pain, but she truly showed her skills today. 

Towards the end of the celebration, your ex's parents pulled you away from everyone else and into the hallway for a private word.

"We want you to come visit her, with us." 

Your first instinct is to adamantly refuse, but the looks on their faces are enough to give you pause. No amount of time can make up for the loss they've had to endure, and you know they wouldn't have asked unless they really needed you there. 

"Okay, we'll be there." 

They pull you in for a hug, and Rosé tears up at the emotional moment. She sends you an understanding look once you eventually meet her gaze from across the room, and you give her a sad smile in return. 

----

The Visit

"Hey, baby; it's us again. Everybody came by earlier and it was so nice."

"You would've loved it, baby girl. We all miss you so much." 

They hold each other close as they take turns speaking to her, their voices a little stronger than you remember them being last year. Slowly but surely, they're learning to adjust to life without their daughter. 

You turn your head to the side, burying your face in Rosé's hair to distract yourself from the sadness creeping in. You hadn't come back to the cemetery since her funeral, so even just standing there causes the memories to come flooding back. Rosie's grip on you is strong, and you thank her for that; without her you'd surely be a wreck by now. 

A few minutes later, her parents step to the side and look over to you in a wordless request for you to say something. 

"Hey, champ." You crouch down next to her tombstone, missing the way her parents smile at the old nickname you used to call each other. 

"It's me. I hope you're happy up there… you deserve to be. You'd better save us some good seats." You tease, reaching up to dust some dirt off of the sleek surface of stone. The material is beginning to become rougher, you note to yourself.

"Thank you for taking such good care of Y/N. I owe you the world." Rosie smiles bittersweetly, resting her hand on your shoulder as she looks down at the picture on the tombstone. 

Something -- some unmistakable force, a gut feeling -- tells you to look up. You listen to it, slowly raising your head until you can see the expanse of the cemetery in front of you. The evening sun is giving way to a breathtaking sunset, and the remaining golden rays filter in through the leaves of the tall trees overhead. A flash of brown hair catches your eye, and you almost gasp at what you see.

There she is.

Your ex -- well, more specifically, the ghost of her -- stands amidst the tree line that borders the property. She raises a hand up to wave at you, offering a peaceful smile as she glances between Rosie and you. You smile your own lopsided grin at her, and soon after, she fades away completely. 

Inconspicuously, you look up at her parents. They have a knowing look on their face as you stand up and loop an arm around Rosé's waist, pulling her in close to rest your forehead against hers. She kisses your cheek before using her finger to poke the soft surface adorably.

"Ya know," her father starts, pulling your attention away from your girlfriend. 

"She visits us too, sometimes." He finishes with a smile.

A content feeling settles within your chest at his words, and you let out a soft sigh. 

She always was a sucker for happy endings.

[dorimena]

𝕭𝖆𝖇𝖊, 𝕴'𝖒 𝖋𝖎𝖘𝖙 𝖋𝖎𝖌𝖍𝖙𝖎𝖓𝖌 𝖜𝖎𝖙𝖍 𝖋𝖎𝖗𝖊

𝔠𝔥𝔞𝔯𝔞𝔠𝔱𝔢𝔯; Todoroki Shoto

𝔴𝔬𝔯𝔡 𝔠𝔬𝔲𝔫𝔱; 1.8k

𝔴𝔞𝔯𝔫𝔦𝔫𝔤𝔰; fluff, angst, media slander, body criticism, mentioned dieting, crying

𝔬𝔱𝔥𝔢𝔯 𝔱𝔞𝔤𝔰; Endeavor is a slightly better dad, slight self-hate, implied BakuTodo

𝔰𝔦𝔡𝔢𝔫𝔬𝔱𝔢; this was kind of rushed, so it’s not proofread yet. I’ve taken some ideas from our conversation!

It happened all too suddenly.

It wasn’t supposed to happen all too suddenly.

It wasn’t supposed to happen at all.

If there’s a reason that justifies why you ignore the media and rightfully hate most talk shows, then what’s happening in front of you should be a good one.

Because Shoto looks like he’s about to… do nothing about it. He’s not really speaking or reacting much, simply staring at the screen with such a dull light on his face, resignation showing itself as he struggles to keep himself composed, keep himself scarce of any emotion but neutrality.

He’s failing terribly, but he wouldn’t know, and you wouldn’t tell him. It was meant to be a relaxing Thursday evening, where Fuyumi sent over some food and Natsuo ever-so-kindly sent a six-pack of beer with her to help you and Shoto unwind from such a hectic week full of arrests, busts, investigations, interrogations.

It feels like you’re somehow doing police work rather than your respectful ones, which is something you’d look into after figuring out why the media decided to suddenly talk about Shoto’s weight gain. It’s nothing new for you, for him, for your friends, for your family, for anyone who knows Shoto. Most people assume he’s picking up more mass to form bigger muscles, others simply enjoy the new Shoto, and the kids are beginning to no longer go up to him to bully him for the weird capsules around his waist, but rather to invite him to play with them.

Shoto was beginning to feel so much more comfortable in his skin, he was beginning to love his new body and the small changes that occur as he continues to slowly tone his muscles. He’s even accepted not to gain back his muscular form, simply keeping in mind the change in dynamic between him and the general public.

No one’s pointed a finger at him.

No one’s talked badly of him.

No one’s ever criticized him over his change.

Everyone was just glad prohero Shoto was fine and recovering well from his unexpected injuries.

So watching how these two talk show hosts are talking shit about his weight gain and ridiculing the way he looks in his clothes is making your blood boil.

On the screen, there are two pictures: the one on the left is a recent picture that made it on the newspaper as people thanked Shoto for saving a few kids from a terrible house fire; the one on the right is a picture from when Shoto was 16.

How could they be stupid enough to compare a teenager’s body with an adult’s?!

It’s like comparing a five year old’s drawing with a professional drawing, yet they’re ridiculing and nitpicking the professional and praising the child’s drawing.

It’s a weird analogy in your mind, but it’s the only thing that tries to help you understand why they think it’s necessary to suddenly bring up something so personal, so private, from someone?

When they switch to an improvised interview with Endeavor, Shoto shrinks a bit into the couch, leaning more into your side as you both listen to what his father had to say with such personal questions about his youngest son’s ‘recent’ weight gain.

Shoto knows his father’s opinion: Endeavour doesn’t care. But not in a ‘fuck you’ type of way, but in a ‘it’s your life, and if you’re happy, so be it.’

He’s changed quite a lot from when Shoto was younger, yet watching the way his father’s eyebrows furrowed in anger and snarl at the question had Shoto wonder if his father really isn’t bothered by his weight gain.

Slight weight gain, might you need to remind him.

But instead of listening to Endeavour criticize his son and agree with the commentaries, he yelled at the reporter for being so selfish and careless, how he’s keeping Endeavour from continuing his task of making sure recently rescued citizens are doing well or not.

And when pushed further for an answer, the older man sighs and explains how even though Shoto’s changed, he doesn’t see it in his weight, but rather his person and strength, a change in power, to which he’s proud of and only ever concerns him other than the general well-being of his son.

The talk show hosts don’t seem to be happy with the sappy response, probably waiting for the hero to maybe help feed the drama. So, they take matters into their own hands: try convincing the audience the number one prohero is probably only lying to save his image and pride.

Now that hurt a lot, seeing how they’re trying to change the context and make Endeavor into the asshole bastard of a father he stopped being time ago.

But it was enough to make Shoto stand up and walk silently to your bedroom.

You know what he’s doing, know what he’s probably thinking as he stares and scrutinizes his image in the mirror.

You mute the TV, rubbing a hand over your face as you head to the bedroom, frowning when you catch the way he subtly brushes away some tears. The more you watch, the more you feel like crying with him.

It’s so frustrating being a prohero, especially one admired by the media merely by his looks and status rather than talent and power.

He hasn’t done anything wrong to suddenly be bashed and hated on, to become such a joke and be ridiculed to the point his self-love and appreciation is thrown to burn in a trash can just so those pathetic celebrities can get a paycheck making people’s lives miserable.

Heck, there’s a prohero flaunting around about paying escorts to offer services at a party and they’re off the hook, apparently.

You can’t keep watching Shoto tear himself apart, not when it took so much patience, understanding, acceptance, appreciation, reassurance and love to build up his confidence again.

You don’t really speak, just go to the mirror and flip it over, stopping Shoto from glaring at himself, but it makes him finally let out a pained whimper, one full of dejection and hurt.

You got him quickly, wrapping your arms around him as his body shakes as held-back cries finally leave his system, doubt flooding his mind and insecurities coming back in full swing.

You manage to get you both to the bed with some awkward shuffling and lots of squirming, making sure his head is resting on your chest so that he hears your heartbeat while you brush his hair with your fingers, whispering and mumbling how he shouldn’t listen to them, that they’re lying, that their opinion doesn’t matter because they’re so unhappy and insecure about how confident he was.

How he’s a stronger person than they are for accepting and loving his body instead of succumbing to cheap plastic surgery to hide away his imperfections, which he has none.

How he’s a more beautiful person than they are for being so kind and generous to everyone that he sees, being polite and offering help where he sees they need.

How he’s a powerful person, not because he’s the son of Endeavor, but because he just carries his own influence over people, how they simply are drawn to him because of how he is and who he is personally, how naturally charming he is when he speaks and treats people.

You spill every confession, every praise, every single word you could think of to help sooth him from his hiccups, to ease him into tranquility while you both figure out how to carry on such harsh criticism about his body.

Shoto eventually starts laughing, shoulders shaking as he finishes wiping his tears. You’d be concerned, but knowing him, he must’ve associated this moment with something else.

And you are right.

“Remember when Bakugou came and bluntly told me how I’ve gained weight?”

“Yeah. You were ready to cry.”

“Yes, but I didn’t get to, because Bakugou directly told me, with no hesitation, how it makes me look healthier in an ‘odd’ way and how adorable I look. Later he threatened to feed me snacks if I ever think of strictly dieting.”

You nod, wondering where he’s getting at with this, not like it’s out of the blue.

“If a guy like Bakugou doesn’t see a problem with my weight gain, then, why did they?”

His voice went soft, quiet, as his question lingers in the air for some time before you shrug, holding him closer to your body.

“Maybe because they’ve never learned to love themselves, and you did because you’re a better person than they’ll ever be. You don’t ridicule anybody if you see a change, simply tell them about it and help them figure out how to fix it if they don’t want or like it.”

Shoto remains quiet, basking in the comforting silence as his head throbs a bit as a warning.

Pressing a palm into one of his eyes, he mumbles “do you think my father’s embarrassed of me?”

You hum, shaking your head immediately as you figure out your words.

“Your father seemed more embarrassed about how invasive these people are and how they were making him a fool rather than your newfound softness.”

You scratch Shoto’s head, playing with his hair as you try flipping the white strands to where the red strands lay.

“I think if your father were truly embarrassed, he would’ve forced you back into a diet a long time ago, or would’ve been around to monitor you. But he didn’t, because when he saw you after your accident, I heard him quietly thank the heavens that you’re safe and doing well rather than fuss about how your cheeks look fuller.”

Shoto tries to remember, but he was in the kitchen bothering his sister, but somewhat helped put the table when you guys went to visit for lunch a few months after his discharge.

But you’re right. His father would’ve done something sooner if his weight gain were an issue, but the old man didn’t. He even sent over some food and snacks from time to time, and still does, but a little less often. Whether it’d be because he caught wind of Shoto trying to slowly ease back with the sweets or because of the demand of his assistance in some missions.

You guys stay in bed, eventually falling asleep from the exhaustion of the random roller coaster the media decided to put you both in, more on Shoto than on you. But you went to sleep with a bit of ease, knowing Shoto’s at least trying to cheer himself up as well and realize the media’s opinion isn’t as valid to him as the opinion from those he loves and cares about.

But your sleep was interrupted when you heard your phone blaring in the living room. Shoto luckily is snuggling into his side of the bed, so you manage to walk quietly towards where your device sat and check the caller ID.

It’s Bakugou, and when you answer, he demands to know how Shoto is, how he took the bullshit those talk show hosts decided to spill and if he can pay a visit in the morning, wanting to check himself how the sleeping man is doing.

You’re sure Shoto will very much appreciate the hothead of his friend visiting.

[limitlessgojo]

Blood Bound: Blackened Bond (Ch 15.5)

Warnings: Action, Coarse Language, Fighting, Descriptions of Blood

Previous Chapter: Shadows Fall

Next Chapter: Non-Standard

Word count: 2.4k

Tags: Kamo Noritoshi x Reader, Soulmates AU, Angst, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Fem!Reader

Taglist: @lessie-oxj @rizzo-nero @whoreuc @fkngkumiko @isl3t @gojoussunglasses @onepotatostand-blog @s-t-f-u-b-i-t-c-h @sunaswife @lordguameow @track5enthusiast @nayydoesthings

Notes: If you want to be tagged for every update, and specify if you're okay with nsfw posts or not, please mention it in the comments below ty❤

Author's Notes: This is a deleted chapter but I decided to just put it as an extra/half chapter. I took a step back to assess my drafts and deemed that it didn't need to be in the story for it to be cohesive. But this is full of extra info that will be quite significant in the chapters to come^^

土御門天皇

Chapter 15.5: Tsuchimikado

“Geto Suguru has pronounced war against the Jujutsu Society. We are expecting there to be an ambush here in Kyoto and one in Tokyo Shibuya. We must prepare thoroughly. Amongst the students we will only be asking Jujutsushi of Grade 3 or higher to assist us in this battle. And you may opt out if you do not wish to fight. But your help will be highly appreciated, especially on such short notice.” Principal Gakuganji ended his speech by looking at you dead in the eye.

And deep in your gut, you knew you didn’t have so much as a choice. You were going to fight this battle as a Special Grade sorcerer (and being the only one in this room at the moment), whether you liked it or not. So you gave a short nod in return.

“I’ll be joining. As the future clan head of the Kamo clan and the eldest son, this is not a matter to be ignored or taken lightly.” Your head whipped around to face Noritoshi and to your biggest surprise he was looking straight at you. Then he turned to nod to Principal Gakuganji who nodded back approvingly.

“I’m always up for a good fight, so of course I’ll be joining. Can’t miss out on a chance to beat down curses.” Todo grinned and cracked his fists.

“Will you join, Tsuchimikado?” Utahime asked.

Everyone was silent as you looked at her then the Principal. “Of course I will.”

Everyone else called out to say if they were participating or not. After the meeting was finished after several more announcements, and you left back for your dorm rooms.

◇◇◇

The next day, Utahime sensei called in some students plus Hiroki into her office. You all filed in, wondering what it was about. Hiroki nudged you, “Why am I here with yall kids?” You pinched him in return.

Outside the door, you went face to face with Noritoshi. He gently called your name, “Good morning Y/N.” You just purse your lips and nod.

In this time of war, you need to set aside all personal matters. It’s all business; everyone had to cooperate together to have a chance of surviving.

You counted and named the people present. Noritoshi, Todo senpai, You and Hiroki. That was it.

Utahime let you all sit down on chairs facing her desk before calling your attention, “So, I called you all here today, because we have some information on the possible curses that might appear here at Kyoto. As you know, Geto Suguru has the ability to manipulate and take in curses.

We know of some grade 1 and special grade curses. I decided that amongst the students, the three of you are the most capable in handling those. Hiroki san, you’ve stated that you’ll be fighting alongside your cousin, so I brought you in here today so that both of you can prepare together.”

He grinned, “Of course Utahime san. We got this in the bag sis.” He punched you softly in the arm, and you softly hit him in the head. A childhood habit of yours.

So Utahime sensei then explained and listed off the curses that are known to be in his possession. All of you paid close attention and took notes. Most were Grade 1 and 2.

“And finally. We know of another Special Grade curse, the Giant Black Tsuchigumo of Kyoto. This curse is-” she continued to speak, but it felt like radio static on your end. You couldn’t hear anything anymore.

The blood drained out of both your and Hiroki’s faces. ‘Huh? I thought that nightmare was already done and gone. Whatthefuck’

Your right hand shot out to grab at Hiroki. Utahime paused at the sudden movement. It was getting harder to breathe, and you could feel the onset of the panic attack kicking in.

You’ve done so well recovering from anxiety attacks over the years, but this just made you feel so helpless. “Sorry, can’t breathe.” You gasped out.

“Give her space!” Utahime and the others pushed back the chairs and desk. Hiroki caught you as you leaned your forehead against the top of his chest and settled on the ground.

“Breathe in 2 3 4, hold 2 3 4 5 6 7 8, out 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9, and again,” Hiroki repeated your go to breathing exercises, ignoring how your nails dug into his arms. It took you a good 7 minutes to calm down. “I’m so sorry,” you apologized, wiping your sweaty palms off your thighs.

You looked down at your hands to see them still shaking. Utahime, Noritoshi and Todo were all kneeling with you on the floor. “Don’t apologize. You have nothing to be sorry for.” Utahime patted your head lightly.

“Tsuchigumo. That big black one is dead. I have no idea which one you’re talking about right now, but the one that reigned in Kyoto is dead.” you said. “Gojo Satoru and I killed that curse back in late 2007.”

Noritoshi inched closer to you. Hiroki stiffened, watching him closely, but he didn’t do anything to close the gap. He just stayed by your other side, a silent and steady presence.

Utahime reached out to wipe your sweat with a towel. You only noticed now that the room has been rearranged, chairs pushed away to make a bit of space. There were cushions on the ground for everyone to sit on.

“Drink.” Hiroki pushed a cup of hot tea into your hands. You nearly spilled it, but he cupped your hands firmly, helping you drink. You leaned against your cousin, sighing at his warmth.

Hiroki spoke up, “As you can see, it is a bit of a touchy subject for the both of us. Our clan had a bad run in with that Tsuchigumo years back when sis was only 6 years old. But we are pretty sure that, like she said, Gojo and Geto san have gotten rid of it.”

Utahime nodded, “Geto did huh. Then he must have taken it in during that time.”

Noritoshi looked at you and realized that something far worse than just an attack happened. “Your sister,” he spoke quietly, “was she…?”

Hiroki raised his eyebrows. “Yes, our Sora was killed by that Tsuchigumo.”

The atmosphere in the room turned heavy and almost unbearable. Utahime looked concerned, “We need as much information on that Tsuchigumo as we can. Y/n, can you tell us anything?”

Oh yeah, just the one memory you’ve desperately tried to forget your entire life. Still you nodded.

Hiroki squeezed you.

“So basically.” You paused. “One night when I was 6, Sora neechan was like 10 years old. We got attacked near the Kiyomizu shrine. It was getting late, the sun was setting. But we were up at Daimonji-yama to play, and there were barely any people around. It wasn’t too dark yet, but it was really quiet.” Your teeth were practically chattering.

Noritoshi met your eyes and for a moment you wanted him to hold you. Until you remembered you were supposed to be angry with him, so you brushed it off and looked elsewhere.

“Satoru nii and Geto san were actually in Kyoto at that time to visit us. So I remember calling Toru nii and screaming for help, he was on my speed dial. He told us that we could call for help anytime. We are pretty much like siblings to each other. So he would always come to our aid. Right niichan?”

You leaned into Hiroki as he let out a small “Yep. He never lets us down. Dumb as he is.” Your lips actually quirked into a small smile at that.

“Sora and I basically had to hold off the curse until they got there. But it was strong. As you know, Tsuchigumo are earth spiders. But this particular one reigned in Kyoto for so long. Like centuries. It was so strong it ate every other tsuchigumo, making it grow bigger. Still, it rarely comes out to feed and is adept at hiding. We like to think of it as a smart curse. Every bite is laced with poison.”

“Back then I only mastered basic freezing and wind manipulation techniques. I couldn’t make barriers yet. And it really…” you closed your eyes remembering that sense of helplessness you’ve felt like never before.

“It was the worst 10 minutes of my life. I couldn’t do anything to hurt it. I had another technique I was working on, but it involved using reverse cursed techniques which I didn’t perfect yet. And I didn’t like playing with fire as much as I did with water and ice.”

“I froze it several times, but my technique was way too weak. It kept breaking free. Sora nee didn’t even have a cursed technique; she couldn’t fight. But still she felt responsible for me since she was older, so she …” you stopped. You closed your eyes and tightened your fist.

At this point your nails were drawing blood from your palms, but you didn’t feel the pain. “It’s so stupid really.” You laughed out loudly trying to distract everyone from the tears that were forming in your eyes.

Noritoshi reached out to you. But Hiroki’s eyes flashed at him in warning and he dropped his hands. Your heart squeezed painfully.

“I was just a stupid kid, who let her weaker sister take the shot of poison from that Tsuchigumo, instead of facing it head on. She wouldn’t let go of me no matter how hard I tried to put her behind me. A huge part of me was scared and terrified that night of course. I didn’t know what to do and I was such a coward. It was about to hit me until Satoru nii came.” You took a deep breath and forced out the remainder of the story.

“So I actually did manage to activate my reverse cursed technique towards the end, but it was too much. I burned nearly half of the mountain…. My mom had to help in restoring a large part of it afterwards. Satoru finished it off and carried us away immediately.”

“But Su- Geto san. Like he has the cursed spirit manipulation right? I never realized if he took it in or not really. I never particularly cared about it that night, because Sora nee was dying in my arms.” You rushed your words and pushed further into Hiroki’s arms.

“It was a bad omen for our clan,” Hiroki’s teeth were gritted tight as he relived your stories. “For such a powerful and evil curse to share a part of our namesake, only to hurt one of our own. After that day, we hunted down all the Tsuchigumo we could find across the entire country as a priestess told us to do so to cleanse our clan of a lingering curse. But… for some reason it was never enough. Now we know… it still lives with Geto san.”

“What painful memories,” Todo cried. “We will help you take it down, y/n. And I don’t doubt that you can defeat it the way you are right now.” You were touched by his words.

“But can you face it once more?” He asked.

“I’ve been training all my life for a day like this. Of course I’m going to throw that thing into the depths of hell.”

“Careful there.” Hiroki nii was eyeing you carefully. “You tend to rush headfirst when you’re being controlled by your emotions. You’re too reckless lil sis.”

“That’s true.” Noritoshi hummed. You glared at him. “If it’s to save a life, why not.” You shot back and had a stare off with Noritoshi.

More like a one sided glare on your part and him lovingly looking back at you with a sad smile. Noritoshi’s bond mark burned.

"Ahem." Hiroki cleared his throat loudly and everyone turned to him. "I'll be watching over lil sis here so it should be fine. I'll be joining this war anyways."

You smiled at your cousin gratefully.

“Well then. That was the last curse that needed explaining. I think the four of you are suited to taking them down. You’re all dismissed.”

You all nodded at Utahime, rising to your feet along with everyone else.

◇◇◇

“Y/n! I need to talk to you.” Mai said urgently. She followed you back to the first year dorms after class. You had told the first years about the special grade curses you were expecting to see in the war.

Mai looked particularly shaken upon hearing about the death of Sora. She was always the cool and calm one amongst the first years, besides Mechamaru that is. So this was very new.

“Of course, come into my room.”

You served her tea and cakes, before kneeling down on your floor cushion.

Mai threw her arms around you. Your eyes widened as her arms tightened around your shoulder. You cautiously put your arms around her.

“I know how it feels….. To lose an older sister.”

You flinched, “Is yours-”

“She’s alive.” There was a different pain in her eyes. And that was then you realized that she must have been left behind.

“Grief is the loss of a person. Someone could be going through a divorce or a break-up and experience grief. You could lose an important person, while they’re still alive and it’s still considered grief.” Mai said.

You wanted to cry, but your eyes ran dry. All you’ve been doing is crying yourself to sleep night after night lately. Your soul was still longing for Sora when she couldn't be reached anymore.

Noritoshi was different. He made it clear that he’s still running after you, never stopping to call out your name even if you ignore him in the hallways. But you were not willing to touch on his matter as of now.

Mai told you all about Maki and her life in the Zenin clan. How she was left behind and forced to be a Jujutsu sorcerer. Everyone has their issues deep inside, but you’re all still pushing and coping as you fight curses.

You buried your hair into Mai’s chest. “I’m sorry you experienced that Mai. You’re such a brave woman for doing this everyday even though you’re afraid of curses.”

“You get used to it.” She sniffed.

You sat there for a while, just hugging her.

“Wanna watch sappy romcoms with me?” You peeked up at her from her arms. “Of course.” You both smiled at each other.

Author’s notes: Tsuchimikado translates to “Emperor of the Earth”, while Tsuchigumo translates to “Earth Spider”. Thus, with how Tsuchi (meaning earth), both names share common Kanji. They are a strong clan that can heal and guard living beings and plants. And Tsuchigumo are expected to be easily defeated by them, being an earth creature. But, as Hiroki said, it was a very bad omen when Sora was killed by one.

Blood Bound: Table of Contents

[juunnies]

flower shop

PAIRING ▸ kang taehyun x fem!reader

GENRES ▸ strangers to friends to lovers, college au, flower shop au, fluff, angst

WARNINGS ▸ mild profanity, death

SUMMARY ▸ kang taehyun never loved flowers this much until he met you. a flower shop was where you both met, but it was where you would always be.

PLAYLIST ▸ eternally by txt • where’s my love by syml

WORD COUNT ▸ 6626 words

COME TO THINK OF IT, EVERYTHING ABOUT YOU REMINDED HIM OF FLOWERS. 

From the delicate features of your face; the sweet tone you used when you called out his name; your hands that felt so soft, almost like a petal; and the first day the both of you met in that little flower shop—Taehyun was constantly reminded of you whenever he passed by a flower. It wasn't pleasant in the slightest bit. In fact, he wanted to tear it all down. Your presence in his head were dark, filmy sheets that he couldn't bring himself to pull down.

Everything felt so calm; the soft sunlight that streamed through the kitchen window, the gentle hum from the open flame as Beomgyu, his roommate, boiled tea for them, and the plush blanket that Taehyun threw over himself as he curled up on the couch. If only Beomgyu would hurry up with the tea, then Taehyun wouldn't have to be left to brood alone.

His own thoughts were poison at this point—thinking about the shop, thinking about you, thinking about flowers. Loneliness wasn't good for Taehyun, nor was silence. He fought that loneliness like a storm yet all he needed was a distraction from his crushing thoughts.

"Tea's ready," Beomgyu called out groggily, his voice thick with sleep.

Taehyun wasn't the least bit surprised. He could hear him and Soobin playing video games all through the night. He would've yelled at them to keep quiet, but rather, the louder volume came from the silence of his own pounding memories.

Taehyun took the cup that Beomgyu handed him and let the warm steam rise up to his face. He closed his eyes and sighed deeply, taking it all in.

"Long night, Gyu?" he asked, and the sarcasm was nearly undetectable if Taehyun hadn't raised a single brow at his roommate.

"Oh man." Beomgyu rubbed the back of his neck and took a seat next to him on the couch. "Were we that loud? I mean I was trying to calm Soobin down the best I could, but it was all over after he beat the high score."

"It's fine." Taehyun waved the matter off casually with his hand. "It wasn't your fault that I couldn't sleep."

Beomgyu frowned, peering at his friend through warm eyes that were clouded with concern. "Taehyun… you know you can talk to me about it, right? You keep it all pent up and act all strong about it, but I know you're crying into your pillow at night, and I know you clench your fist whenever we walk by that flower shop near the campus." Beomgyu exhaled shakily, and Taehyun could tell that he, too, was keeping all this pent up. "You're my best friend, and seeing you like this—well, it hurts."

Taehyun understood all too well. He saw it when he looked at himself in the mirror. The dark bags under his eyes were a dead giveaway, but what scared him was how empty he looked. Some days he couldn't even recognize the person he was looking at.

Smiles became painful and laughs were a sound he didn't feel like he was capable of making anymore. Taehyun tried not to look at his reflection; he hated it. When he did, though, the storm would start with a slight quiver in his lower lip. His hands would start to shake and then sobs would rack his body.

Taehyun looked at Beomgyu in the eye and felt immense guilt. He and Soobin had been worrying about him and Taehyun did nothing to ease their troubles. He didn't speak much to Hyuka these days as he was in a different dorm, but Beomgyu and Soobin would often keep him updated about Taehyun’s condition. Taehyun did miss the days when they'd all hang out, but he felt incapable of experiencing that joy. All he could feel was creeping dread that darkened each waking hour, that made him feel drained each time he had to drag himself out of bed.

"Gyu, I appreciate it. I really do," Taehyun replied, sipping the black tea. He loved the tea that Beomgyu would always make for him; the creamy texture and sweet buttery overlay always calmed him down. "I just really don't know how to move on."

It had been so long that Taehyun didn’t know if he was ever going to move on.

Taehyun could see in his best friend’s eyes that Beomgyu held onto every single word he uttered. "I know, Tae," he told him, "but you don't have to keep it all in. Let it all out to me, to your friends. You can lean on us."

“I just don’t want to be a burden.”

“You’re not a burden,” Beomgyu said firmly, a little louder. “If you were a burden, I wouldn’t be sitting here right now. I wouldn’t be waking up every morning to make you your favorite tea. I wouldn’t be begging you to let me support you.”

A spark of hope flickered in Taehyun’s eyes. He stared back down at his tea and shut his eyes, letting the steam lick the curve of his cheeks and travel up to his eyelids.

"I'll talk," he decided.

Beomgyu’s face lit up and he set his tea down on the table. He jolted up, fumbling with his pant pockets to search for his phone. "I'll call the others to come here tonight as soon as they can," he said with a grin and grabbed his bag. "Are you coming to class today?"

"I think I'll just skip today."

"Again?" Beomgyu asked, his eyebrows knitting into a frown. "Can you keep up with the coursework like this?"

Taehyun nodded, leaning back against the couch. "Of course. I've been getting all my assignments in, and Hyuka texts me what I missed in the lectures."

Saying Hyuka’s name left a bitter taste in Taehyun’s mouth; he regretted not communicating properly with all of his friends, but it stung more as Hyuka was the one who would record lectures for him, take extra notes, and keep him up to date about quizzes and exams.

All Taehyun did in return was push him away.

"I gotta get to class but I'll see you in the evening, Taehyun." Beomgyu waved goodbye with a soft smile and Taehyun returned it with his own wave just before his best friend walked out the door.

Taehyun got up with a deep sigh and made his way to the kitchen to put his cup in the sink. He set them on top of a few plates that were piled up amongst other dishes and rinsed them with water.

A small flower pot sat on the windowsill. There was a sprouting bud that looked nearly about to bloom. Taehyun frowned and gripped the edge of the kitchen counter, yet he couldn't seem to take his eyes off of the plant. The sigh that escaped his lips held a plethora of emotions that he couldn't seem to tell if it was bittersweet or not.

Everything led him back to you.

The sunshine seemed to be extra resplendent on the day of Taehyun’s fateful encounter with you. He was in a flower shop, picking up some flowers that Soobin needed for his visit to his mom's house that evening (he was busy with an exam and couldn't make it, so he sent Taehyun instead). It was then when he saw you through a bouquet of lilies, the sunlight bouncing off of your sleek and shiny hair. He had to tear his gaze away from you, but he was too late.

You saw him.

He expected you to be flustered or shocked, but, instead, a wide smile crossed your face. There was a mysterious glint in your eyes and instantly, Taehyun was intrigued. Should he talk to you? Taehyun wasn't very experienced when it came to flirting. Rather, he didn’t even need to do it most of the time; he just let his eyes do all the work, but all of a sudden, he felt as if he had forgotten how to breathe.

"Looking for something?" the shopkeeper asked him and Taehyun nearly tripped over his feet trying to turn around to look at the man.

He didn’t look much older than Taehyun but carried himself with more confidence and grace. He was attractive in a bookish sort of way, wearing a thick cardigan and had glasses pushed up onto his head. His selling point, however, were his full lips, and he seemed to know exactly how to draw attention to them, whether it was intentional or not. Although he wasn’t smiling with those lips, his eyes showed it quite radiantly.

"I—no, I just—uh..." Taehyun stammered and rested his arm on the counter cooly, but nearly tipped over a flower vase while doing so. He managed to catch it just in time and set it back quickly, letting out a shaky breath. "Sorry," he mumbled and heard a giggle from behind. It was the pretty girl and oh was he embarrassed.

"It's alright, dude," the shopkeeper replied, chuckled, and sharply glared at the pretty girl. "Y/N, don't laugh at customers."

So that was your name.

"Sorry, Yeonjun!" you apologized in a cheery voice. Everything about you was so eccentric that Taehyun wondered how he was keeping up with your energy. "He's just so adorable." You laughed a little while a red tint started creeping up his neck.

Yeonjun rolled his eyes, shaking his head at your antics. “Sorry about my little sister,” he apologized to Taehyun.

He saw the resemblance between you and Yeonjun. They both had a warm personality and an incandescent smile that lit up the store. Rather than the flowers setting the ambiance, it was them. But you were so eccentric and so full of energy that Taehyun couldn’t even fathom matching up to. He was still reeling over the fact that you had called him adorable right in front of your brother.

Taehyun’s words were failing him as he helplessly stared at you, opening his mouth once and then closing it. He felt pathetic but turned back to Yeonjun instead. "I'm here to pick up Choi Soobin’s order," he said, showing him the receipt.

"Right… ah, yes, I remember," Yeonjun recollected. He looked at it and then reached under the counter, placing a vase full of roses in front of Taehyun. And another. And another. And another.

Why on Earth did Soobin need four vases? Taehyun thought in exasperation and mentally noted that this would be the last time he was going to be doing a favor for Soobin.

"Do you live close by?" Yeonjun asked, much like a protective guardian, noticing how distressed Taehyun looked as he stared at the flower vases.

"Yeah, I go to the college here so I live in the dorms right down the street," Taehyun replied, sandwiching one of the vases between his arm and side in preparation to hold all four.

"Oh, Y/N, why don't you help him carry a few of those," Yeonjun insisted and his little sister came rushing right over, scooping up two of the vases.

Holding the two vases in your arms, you looked up at Taehyun curiously. The sunlight caught on the tips of your lashes and reflected yellow flickers in your eyes. Taehyun was transfixed, and a bit horrified that he was so mesmerized. You laughed a little—a harmonious sound that was stuck in his head now.

"How long are you gonna keep staring?"

"Oh, sorry," Taehyun muttered quickly, embarrassed, and scooped up the remaining vase. "Erm, thank you very much for your help." He nodded toward you and Yeonjun, who smiled in response.

"Thank me after I've helped you," you replied with a grin, gesturing for him to lead the way.

"Oh, right—yes, okay," Taehyun rambled in a quiet, nearly inaudible voice before he headed out the door with you following right after him.

He led you down the sidewalk, moving to make sure you weren’t on the side of the road. You seemed to pick up on Taehyun’s pathetic attempt at being a gentleman and raised your brows at him, impressed. Taehyun, of course, was simply trying not to royally screw up one way or another in front of you. He glanced at you and couldn't stop thinking about how he wanted to get to know you better and maybe change that morbidly awkward first impression he gave off.

"I didn't catch your name." You interrupted his thoughts with a glowing smile that made him almost freeze in his tracks. Taehyun had to remind himself to keep walking—one foot after the other. "I heard a Choi Soobin somewhere, but I'm guessing that's not your name."

He smiled a little, realizing how dangerous and how contagious that smile of yours was. "It's Taehyun. Kang Taehyun."

"I'm Y/N," you greeted in a sing-songy voice that reeled Taehyun in.

You had some distinct charm that drew people in and made it so easy to talk to you, but Taehyun was just a touch shy all of a sudden. He wasn’t like this. It was all so new to him.

"You go to the university here?" he asked you.

"I do, and I'm assuming you’re also a student considering you live in the dorms."

“Yeah.” Taehyun scoffed a little. “My scholarship only covers my tuition, not housing, so I’m rooming in a triple.” He narrowed his eyes slightly. “Why don’t you live in the dorms?” he asked, and quickly added, “Oh, you don’t have to explain if you don’t want to.”

“No, you’re good,” you replied, the smile on your lips daring to fall apart, but you kept your composure well. "I don't have much money, so all the money I get for college is from scholarships and the funds from the flower shop. We make it work, though!”

Something about how innocent your tone was horrified Taehyun. He knew that some students struggled financially, but he couldn't imagine how you could pay off your college funds from that small flower shop. It was the hope in your tone that crushed him, though. Your positivity was overwhelming to the point that Taehyun wasn’t sure if he felt defeated or inspired.

"I'm sorr—"

"No, don't say it." You shook her head and silenced Taehyun with a raise of your slender finger. "I don't like pity, and I don't want anyone to feel sorry for me," you finished stubbornly.

Taehyun stayed quiet for the rest of the walk back to the dorms.

Taehyun stayed awake throughout that night, replaying your words in his head. He didn't understand it, but perhaps he wasn't supposed to. He didn't have financial struggles, so what could he possibly understand? All he knew was that he wanted to help you, and so he did.

Every day, Taehyun headed to the flower shop right after his lectures were over and he'd buy some flowers, avoiding Yeonjun’s nagging questions about why on Earth he was buying so many flowers. He decided to routinely place the flowers at random people's doors. Of course, it took a lot of setting his pride aside, but Taehyun wanted to do something good.

Maybe it would brighten someone's day, he thought.

He began working at the flower shop. He loved it there. He got to see you tend to the flowers and was amazed by how delicately you handled them. He never imagined he'd become so close to you and Yeonjun, and it satisfied him; he wanted every day to be like this. He specifically requested for Yeonjun not to pay him and slipped all of his tip money into your apron.

“Yeonjun,” Taehyun called one day when he was sweeping the floor behind the counter. “You’re letting me take the holiday off to go home over break so why aren’t you closing shop?”

Yeonjun smiled, and Taehyun couldn’t help but think about how similar you were to your big brother. “The flower shop is my home.”

“What about your parents?”

“Our mom died giving birth to Y/N,” Yeonjun explained honestly. “Our dad ran off after that and left us with our grandparents. I guess we could go spend the break with our grandparents but they’re not so big on the holiday.”

While Yeonjun sunk deep in thought, Taehyun pondered over his words. If you ever struggled with your past, you certainly never showed it. While it was admirable, it worried Taehyun. Yeonjun, however, had said in the past that optimism was simply wired in you.

Taehyun and you made hanging out a daily thing. After leaving flowers at random houses, Taehyun would go back to the flower shop and pick you up to go to a coffee shop. You would talk for hours, laugh, and go on a walk afterward. It was fun, but Taehyun felt like something was always missing.

When they'd drink coffee, he'd want to gaze into your eyes; when they'd talk, he'd want to discuss a future that they could possibly have together; when they'd walk, his hand itched to entwine with yours; when you would laugh, he wanted the world to stop just so he could listen to the melodious sound that resonated.

It was getting bad because Taehyun’s heart would clench when he imagined spending his days without you.

Months brought you both closer. Before, Taehyun wanted to know everything about you in an instant. He wanted an arsenal of knowledge just on you, but then he realized the value of learning more and more about someone slowly over time. He savored your deep conversations over the phone and late-night texts because he was vulnerable at night and allowed himself to open up to you. So, it wasn’t long before the both of you became inseparable.

But Taehyun didn't realize that his feelings for you were more than just a close bond. A late night conversation with Hyuka confirmed that he had feelings that surpassed the realm of friendship. Sure, he knew he liked you. A lot. But his true feelings for you ran deeper than that, deeper than a friendship or a silly crush.

"You care about her a lot, don't you?" Hyuka asked him one night while they were both sitting on the couch, watching some re-run episode of a show Taehyun forgot the title of.

"Hm? What's this?" Soobin asked, walking into the room with a soda can in his hands. "Is Taehyun finally admitting he likes Y/N?"

"Of course I like her," Taehyun replied, rubbing his temple with two fingers. His head felt like it was spinning in turmoil. He didn't understand why his feelings were so strong, and he was a little scared to find out. "But this isn't just like and admire. This is more than that, but I just can't explain it."

"You love her," Hyuka said. "Isn't that right?"

Love.

The word was so precious, so fragile, that Taehyun could hardly bring himself to utter the word. Yes, it was the brilliant smile you gave him, the twinkle in your eyes, the softness of your hands, the hardworking side of you, the stubborn side of you, and the caring side of you—he loved it all. Taehyun wanted it all. He wanted to grow old with you and keep you safely at his side. He wanted to be someone that you could confide in and someone who could help you not suffer anymore.

"I love Y/N," Taehyun whispered, and then repeated it with a newfound confidence, "I love her."

Hyuka and Soobin observed their best friend in silence, a small smirk crossing their lips. They found it adorable that a girl managed to capture the heart of Kang Taehyun. A happy sigh escaped Hyuka’s lips as Taehyun got up to go to his bedroom and reflect on his revelation.

"Look at him go." Soobin sighed wistfully, like a proud parent.

The night before Taehyun decided to confess, he could hardly stay awake. He could only imagine every single scenario that could play out following his confession. He was certain he wouldn't be able to create some over-the-top proclamation of love that would make you swoon, but he was certain he would get his feelings out to you.

The rest was up to you.

He thought of your angelic smile. How could someone even look so heavenly? Whenever he saw you wearing that cream-colored sweater while working at the shop, Taehyun just wanted to reach out and hold you in his arms.

Taehyun was hardly ready the moment he was about to confess to you. He had brought you to a bridge overlooking a lake and was clutching the metal railing so tight that the paint was starting to flake off. He wished that the ground underneath him would disappear so that he could fall into some figurative void, but he knew that he had to do this. It was now or never for Kang Taehyun.

"Yes," you said suddenly and Taehyun’s eyes widened.

He opened his mouth, closed it, and repeated this a few times while he tried to grasp the situation. He was in disbelief—did he confess already or not? Before Taehyun was about to ask something stupid, he realized you were on the phone with Yeonjun, letting him know when you would be home. His cheeks flushed and he looked down at the lake to hide the deep blush across his cheeks.

"Sorry, were you saying something?" you asked, turning around to look at him with a smile.

He swallowed hard and shoved his shaking hands in his pockets. Kang Taehyun didn’t fear many things in life, but the weight of what he was about to do was getting heavier and heavier. It was just him and her, and no one else.

"Y/N," he began a little shakily, but regained his courage quickly, "I think I've been captured by you ever since the moment I met you. But lately, my feelings have been growing stronger. I didn't really understand it at first but whenever I look at you—just look at you—I feel so immensely happy."

"Taehyun—" you began softly.

Taehyun cut you off. He needed to finish. He needed to let out the feelings he had been suppressing. The feelings that made his heart ache and his stomach flutter.

"I can't—I can't think when you're around. Everything escapes me, even the world, and it's just you. I—it feels like I can't speak. I can't breathe."

"Taehyun," you whispered, but it didn't sound like you wanted to stop him. You just wanted to call out his name, and oh, how he loved it when you said his name.

"I love you," Taehyun stated clearly, a slightly agonized expression on his face. "I've loved you for so long and I didn't—I couldn't tell you."

You looked like you were at a loss of words and Taehyun’s stomach dropped then and there. You simply stood there as if Taehyun’s words had pinned you in place. Did he screw up? Did he make you uncomfortable? He knew the confession would go one of two ways, but he was really hoping you weren't actually going to reject him.

While Taehyun used his words to get his feelings across, you used your actions. You threw yourself into his arms, catching his lips in a gentle kiss. Every thought, every sense of moral in Taehyun’s head exploded into flashes of white, and he had to fight back the dark curl of desire that twisted in him.

It was calm and gentle, yet a violent storm all at once. Taehyun didn't understand how a simple kiss could draw so many emotions from him and extract so much passion. He pulled away first in disbelief, his eyes drifting to your lips as he tried to catch his breath. An overwhelming burst of happiness filled him to the rim and he wrapped his arms around your waist, burying his face in your hair.

"I love you too," he swore he heard you whisper softly next to his ear.

And so, his relationship with you kicked off. You were both happy and content, and Yeonjun was surprisingly supportive of the new couple. In fact, he had coyly mentioned that he had seen it coming. Taehyun’s friends congratulated him during a night filled with drinks and laughs, and Taehyun discovered about the running bet they had on when you two would get together. There wasn’t anyone in his life that didn’t know he was dating you. After all, he walked hand-in-hand wherever he went with you.

He finally got to hold your soft, delicate hands.

"We should travel together," you said one night while you were star-gazing with your boyfriend.

Taehyun turned to look at you and saw the reflection of the constellations in your glittering eyes.

"Where would we go?" Taehyun asked, moving his hand up to stroke your hair gently.

You smiled and closed your eyes, leaning into his touch. "France? Amsterdam? Greece? It doesn’t matter."

Taehyun chuckled. "I don't mind what we do or where we go. I'm sure we'll have fun as long as we're together."

You and Taehyun gazed into each other's eyes. He saw a future with you in your sparkling eyes. He saw them getting married, moving in together, and having kids. He saw them growing old together and playing with their grandkids in their house.

"You're right." You grinned and then your smile faltered. "I have something I need to tell you."

Taehyun raised a brow. "Go ahead."

"Yeonjun told me about you working for free. The extra tip money I've been finding in my apron is from you then, right?" you asked and rolled over onto your side to look at him. "Why are you doing this, Tae?"

"I love you, Y/N," Taehyun murmured. "I don't need the money. I just want to help you out."

"I appreciate it, I really do. I'm going to get a job, Taehyun. After college. I'm going to make enough money to support us and Yeonjun."

Taehyun grinned and cupped your cheek in his hand, pressing a chaste kiss to it. That was what he loved about you. You always looked for the good in every situation and stayed positive even with the world weighing you down. You never gave up.

"I believe in you."

The two of you laid down on the picnic blanket that night and talked about worlds from their dreams and futures imagined and unimagined. You vowed to be a better parent than your own parents. Taehyun agreed that he'd always put family first. The two of them looked up into the starry night sky and imagined futures that they'd spend together.

It was the day of your one-year anniversary when Taehyun waited at the park, shivering because of the cold. The tip of his nose was red, his ears were practically frozen, and his toes were curled in his shoes. He was holding a bouquet of lilies and a surprise he bought for her. Taehyun wasn’t one to go big on anniversaries, but you were important to him.

You were supposed to be here any second now, and the only thing keeping Taehyun occupied and sane were the texts from his friends, cheering him on. He had an odd feeling that they were stalking him, but he shook it off. Even if they were, they would leave with disgust all over their faces the moment he leaned in to kiss you.

Taehyun couldn't stop smiling to himself. Lilies were perfect; it was like their flower. He was eager to see your reaction.

"Help!" someone cried. "Call 911—!"

Taehyun frowned. The strangled voice sounded close by. He rushed over quickly to see what all the commotion was about. He didn't want to leave the area he was waiting for you at, but he couldn't ignore something like this.

"Is everything okay? What's the matter?" Taehyun pushed past the crowd on the sidewalk to reach the center of the chaos.

He could hardly believe the sight in front of him. You were laying in the middle of the street, blood pooling around your limp body. Paramedics rushed toward you and, after checking your pulse, started performing CPR. It started from his toes, but Taehyun started to shake, slowly, and then violently.

"Y-Y/N?" he croaked out in a soft voice.

"I told her to stop," Taehyun overheard a bystander telling someone else, "but she didn't seem to hear me. She was in such a rush that she ran into the street without even realizing that the signal was still green."

“Did they call her family?” someone else asked.

As if on cue, Yeonjun ran out into the street, face settled in shock and body shaking with heavy sobs. A few policemen had to hold him back while he screamed, “That’s my sister!” in the most painful cry Taehyun had ever heard.

Yeonjun’s teary eyes met Taehyun’s and drifted to the bouquet of lilies he was holding. Frozen in place, Taehyun opened his mouth to say something, only for his voice to fail him as tears slipped down his cheeks and onto the delicate flower petals. Yeonjun surely blamed him for what happened to you. There was no way he would look at Taehyun the same way again.

He stayed there, some hopeful part of him begging for you to be okay, but Taehyun then heard the words that ended it all: "She's dead."

The world sounded waterlogged. Taehyun found himself kneeling on the ground, yet he didn't know how or when he got there. Tears streamed down his cheeks as he stared blankly at his girlfriend's lifeless body. The light faded from your sparkling eyes, making them dull and hollow. It was probably the most chilling, haunting sight he could have ever witnessed. Your soft hands were probably cold now. You would never laugh again. You were gone.

This wasn't how love stories were supposed to go. This wasn't how your love story was supposed to go. It was all a mess. It was unfinished. Broken. Torn. Gone. Forever.

He couldn't even tell you anymore that he loved you. That he wanted to be with you forever. The little black box in his pocket was useless now. Even if he screamed it from atop the highest building, you’d never hear him again.

Taehyun dragged himself over to your body and sucked in a harsh sob. "Y/N! Get up! Please, please, please… please get up!" He choked on his words and broke down in tears.

Yelling, even in your death. If you were alive, you would have laughed in hysteria and found it stupidly hilarious. You would wipe his tears and tell him that "it's okay" and that you love him, because you care far too much about him.

"Stay with me, Y/N, stay with me," Taehyun cried out, though he knew he wouldn't get any response. He felt a hand squeezing his shoulder but ignored it. "You—you said we were going to have a future together." His voice cracked and the tears started to blur his vision. "I brought… I brought you lilies.”

Taehyun dug the heels of his palms against his eyes and sucked in a ragged breath. "Shit, shit, shit, shit—" he hissed, finally screaming out in pain and agony like a wounded dog.

Taehyun felt himself being lifted to his feet and looked to see Soobin and Beomgyu hoisting his arms over their shoulders and dragging him out of the scene. Hyuka walked beside them to the dorms, not meeting Taehyun’s eyes as they felt a sharp stab with each sob that came from him.

"No, no, no…" Taehyun mumbled. "Gyu… Hyuka, please... I need to check on Y/N. I need to see her, I need to—please…" he whimpered. "I need to see her. Please? Soobin?"

They were too afraid to tell him the truth. Deep down, Taehyun knew, but he couldn't bring himself to accept it. A disgusting feeling of regret harrowed him and made him feel physically ill. He doubled over the moment Beomgyu and Soobin set him down in his dorm room. Hyuka caught him and helped him onto the couch.

I should have picked her up. I should have given her more time to get ready. I should have looked out for her. I should have paid attention. I should have been there. I should have protected her.

Each phrase he repeated in his head made him cry even more. Regret bubbled up in Taehyun and held him in a vice. It felt worse than heartbreak, like losing your other half. Taehyun had always felt a tightness in his chest around you, but now that tightness physically hurt him. It wasn’t dreamy and giddy like before, it was mournful and upsetting.

"Breathe," Hyuka said slowly, "long and deep."

Taehyun took a ragged breath and tried to calm down. He felt hollow, incomplete, missing. His vision blanked out with an array of black spots and a pounding rush of blood to his head. Slowly, the realization that you had just died in front of him had hit him again, and he started to cry again. It was less violent this time and more painful. He cried in mourning for her future that had just slipped away—their future.

"Taehyun, talk to us." Hyuka rubbed his back.

Taehyun swatted his hand away coldly and got up, backing away from them. "Don't—don't…" His voice cracked again and he hurried away, getting in his bed and pulling the blankets over his head, yet, he couldn't find any warmth in that either.

You were gone and took a part of him with you.

He loved your smile. Your radiant, glowing smile that lit up the room. He loved those sparkling eyes full of hope and joy. Months had passed, but Taehyun still couldn't bring himself to get over you, and he didn't think he ever would. You would forever live in his heart, never fading, forever young.

Taehyun only went outside the dorm when it was to visit your grave. On the day of your funeral, he was allowed to keep lilies on your casket, so they were lowered down into the ground with you. He continued to bring lilies for you whenever he'd visit your grave.

Taehyun walked along the street and tried to force the bittersweet memories of your walks in the city out of his head. He headed up the hill to the graveyard and stood in front of your grave. It became routine for him to replace the withering lilies with fresh ones to honor your memory.

"Y/N, I love you so, so much," he whispered, "but I can't keep hurting the ones I love like this. I need to move on but Y/N," his voice broke and he furiously wiped at the tear that dared to spill, "how do I do that?"

The silence didn't answer Taehyun’s question but gave him time to answer it for himself. You wouldn't want him crying for the rest of his life over you. You would want him to find a reason to be happy and live the rest of his life. He could at least do that for you so that you could smile brightly down on him from the Heavens.

Taehyun headed down the hill and eyed the flower shop at the corner of the street. He hesitated, but he knew he couldn't avoid Yeonjun forever. He walked toward the shop and opened the doors. Yeonjun still had that lost look in his eyes, but he seemed to be doing a lot better. The last time Taehyun had seen him was over half a year ago, and he looked rattled and hollow back then. The light seemed to be returning to Yeonjun now.

"Taehyun?" he called, shock clear in his voice as he moved away from the counter and toward him.

"Yeonjun, I’m… I’m sorry," Taehyun choked out and rubbed his eyes, a quiet whimper escaping his lips at the end.

“Are you still blaming yourself?” Yeonjun’s voice was low now. “Y/N’s death is still hard for me, but she’d want us to be happy.”

Taehyun frowned. “She just meant so much to me.”

“I know.” Yeonjun’s voice was firm. “You lost your girlfriend, but I lost my little sister, Taehyun.”

Taehyun was silent. He felt his heart seize at Yeonjun’s words. Their parents were out of the picture to begin with, but you and Yeonjun always had each other. Now, with you gone, Yeonjun had to let go of the future he was building with you.

“I’m sorry.”

Yeonjun softened at his words. “Healing isn’t linear, Taehyun,” he reassured. “You can take as long as you need to grieve, but you have people who care about you, okay? Lean onto them. They want to help, and I think you’ll be a lot happier if you accept it.”

Taehyun nodded, sucking his lower lip between his teeth. He knew more than anyone else that he had been pushing away his best friend’s attempts to comfort him for far too long.

Yeonjun walked back to the counter and then came back with a small box in his hand. "Y/N must have loved you a lot," he said and opened the box, displaying a silver ring, "she saved up all her tip money to propose to you."

Taehyun stared at the ring in disbelief and his eyes stung as Yeonjun slipped your ring onto his finger. Suppressing a choked sob, he pulled out his own box from his pocket and showed Yeonjun the ring he had gotten for you.

"It looks like we both had the same intentions."

Taehyun laughed a little through the blinding tears and let Yeonjun pull him into a hug. They stood there, embracing each other because they only had the other in remembrance of you. Yeonjun was the last living memory Taehyun had of you; he was like his own older brother, and he wanted to protect his happiness.

"Jun, let me work here again, please," Taehyun requested, glancing at the flowers around him, his eyes flitting to the lilies.

Yeonjun squeezed his shoulder, mustering a smile. “Of course. You’re always welcome here.”

Taehyun almost forgot about the interrogation awaiting him when he walked back to his dorm. After the talk with Yeonjun, his head was in the clouds, swimming in pools of thoughts. He was still reflecting on Yeonjun’s words, still trying not to blame himself. It was hard not to when Taehyun kept regretting every three-word phrase he never said and every kiss he never pressed to your cheek.

When he opened the door to his dorm, Taehyun was greeted by his friends sitting in the living room. They were leaning back on their hands and watching some low-rate horror movie. When Taehyun walked into the living room, however, Beomgyu reached for the remote and turned it off.

"What are you…?"

Hyuka grinned at him. "Gyu told us you were going to talk."

Soobin and Beomgyu scooted to the sides of the couch so that Taehyun would have room to sit in the middle. He glanced at all of them, a light sigh escaping his lips when he saw the eagerness in their eyes. He knew he couldn’t keep pushing them away. Not anymore. Not ever.

And so, Taehyun told them from beginning to end about you, about the future they were going to have, and about all the flowers around you.