#this is the first time any post of mine passed 1k notes

[gen-is-gone]

I posted 6,432 times in 2022

That's 2,641 more posts than 2021!

252 posts created (4%)

6,180 posts reblogged (96%)

Blogs I reblogged the most:

@seananmcguire

@doomhamster

@findingfeather

@johannesviii

I tagged 2,765 of my posts in 2022

#megan whines into the empty abyss of cyberspace - 264 posts

#oh humans - 180 posts

#adventures in l space - 91 posts

#!!! - 64 posts

#another one for the reblog hall of fame - 62 posts

#pffft - 56 posts

#:| - 54 posts

#fandom history - 51 posts

#child friendly child rearing - 47 posts

#tumblrian neo dadaism at its finest - 44 posts

Longest Tag: 138 characters

#like it's stopped being an interesting plot just let them exist and be weird little dudes/genocidal gods who are also stuffy oxbridge dons

My Top Posts in 2022:

#5

Ok I swear I'm gonna shut up and go to be bed and attempt to be even a little normal about this, but fuckin...special bonus episode adapting one of the most popular issues in the series and one of the most important, that drops out of nowhere, with uneven story lengths reflecting the needs of the stories, and with one of the two stories animated so as to do it justice properly, like. I could literally fucking cry, it's so exactly the avant-garde broken formalism I so desperately hoped for out of this show, so much willingness to take risks for the sake of the story they’re telling. I'm so happy. They did both 'Dream of a Thousand Cats' and 'Calliope' such great justice.

388 notes - Posted August 20, 2022

#4

staff gave us stim toys, a sexyman, an army of crabs, and an absolutely deranged text adventure game that deposits you onto tumblr's jobs page at the end. fantastic april fools. twitter could never

477 notes - Posted April 2, 2022

#3

Calliope in the attic, Morpheus in the basement, greatest failmarriage of all of time right there

644 notes - Posted August 19, 2022

#2

"I turned out fine" Guillermo honey you are inSANE

933 notes - Posted August 3, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

ok no godFUCKINGdammit you don't understand, he's fat he's queer he's Hispanic specifically, he's an action hero he's a teddy bear he's obsessed with fucking Armand, he's got nearly chivalric levels of devotion to the stupidest man alive, he could do anything wants to and he chooses the most degrading clownshoes career path on purpose, he's got the world's finest ass, every day he contemplates the fact that he could kill them all and every day he chooses to play mom-friend instead, he's short he's a serial killer he's got that smug little fucking grin i wanna bite him i wanna bite him i wanna bite him i don't know What The Fuck nandor's problem is i'll bite that man myself

5,823 notes - Posted May 13, 2022

Get your Tumblr 2022 Year in Review →

[somefanficrecomendations]

September Monthly Recap

SUPERNATURAL

dumb luck or good ghost by ShanaStoryteller (gen), 20k, Boy King of Hell!Sam, AU-Canon Divergence Dean wakes up after the accident and his father tells him that Sammy is dead.

The Mixtape, Or: Six Things You Learn in Thursday School by Amiril (Castiel/Dean Winchester), 6k, Post-Canon      History passes into legend— but without the Winchester Gospels, that legend must be assembled from the notes of Prophets and Hunters. Human society and the English language may take a few wandering turns along the way, but one thing is a constant: people will always argue about Canon.      Or: God got beat up and replaced by his grandson. You could make a religion out of that.

you drink light with your hands all winter by Amiril (Castiel/Dean Winchester), 1k, Post-Canon      “I can’t keep doing this.” God says it like this as though it is He, not Death, who is bound by the nature’s laws. He says it as though the world is not what He wants it to be. He says it as though He means it.      “Please,” Death says. There’s a scythe heavy on his back, and a bundle of souls in the crook of his elbow. “Please, Sammy.”

The violet hour by Zooey_Glass (gen), 5k, Trans!Dean, Transphobia In the bright glare of the overhead light it's impossible to ignore what he's been seeing all along: the broad, masculine shape of his sister's shoulders underneath the jacket.

X-MEN

I'll see your heart (and I'll raise you mine) by sirona (multi), 43k, AU-Modern Setting, Action & Adventure For Kriminalhauptkommissar Erik Lehnsherr, this case will change everything.

The Line in the Sand by ikeracity (Erik Lehnsherr/Charles Xavier), 8k, BAMF!Charles The CIA agents on the base are bullying the children, mocking them for their mutations. Charles will not tolerate it.       Or: Charles has a line, and the agents cross it. Several times. And Erik discovers that perhaps Charles is not so much of a pacifistic pushover as he appears.

Come to Me Like Destiny by MinaSark (Remy LeBeau/Rouge), 57k, Fake Relationship Tante Mattie once told Remy that he wouldn’t recognize destiny if it fell out of the sky and crashed right on top of him…      …which is why when—after a loud crack and startled yelp—someone fell down from the tree directly above his head, the normally well-attuned thief didn’t even see it coming.

Shining Armour by Woethe (Logan/Scott Summers), 9k, Trapped in Elevator      At the end of the day, he could only really blame himself. He was the one to ask the Professor in the first place how Logan was getting on, if just to make sure he was taking care of his motorcycle.      Now he's spending his Saturday night lugging around 300 pounds of unresponsive adamantium.

SPIDER-MAN

In For A Penny by gender_bender08 (Harry Osborne/Peter Parker), 6k, Team Red, Vigilantism       Peter meets Daredevil when the man saves him from a shootout. He meets Deadpool when the guy’s trying to steal a car. He meets the Punisher when Red brings him to the gym. He meets Jessica Jones when she corners him on a streetlight. He meets Hawkeye when Jessica’s hired to solve one of his assassinations.       All of this to say, he meets a lot of people before he meets Tony Stark.

HARRY POTTER

Three's Family by darkbluedark (multi), 19k, Time Travel, Humor      It’s May 1979 and the Order has just apprehended a pair of mysterious wizards who look remarkably like a Potter and a Malfoy. Naturally, James Potter and Sirius Black are called in to identify the strangely familiar strangers and determine their backgrounds and loyalties.      (This would be a lot easier if their captives weren’t convinced everyone they talk to is dead. It would also be easier if they didn’t spend half their bloody time bickering.) **      “Just ask them questions only they would know the answer to,” Malfoy suggests.      “There’s not a single thing that I know about either of them from the first war that any old Death Eater couldn’t find out.”      “How is that possible?” Malfoy huffs. “He’s your father!”      “Am I or am I not famously an orphan?” Potter snarls.

CROSSOVER

All of Me by SpencerRemyLvr Criminal Minds x X-Men, (Remy LeBeau/Spencer Reid) 55k, Case Fic, Hurt/Comfort Spencer Reid was a thief. He’d been a thief for years, right up until the day a job went bad and he met Jason Gideon. With no other choice open to him, Spencer joined the Bureau and left everything behind. But now, that part of his life is coming back to haunt him. When an old friend turns up and tells Spencer that the only person he’s ever loved, the person he regretted leaving behind more than anything else, is missing, Spencer moves Heaven and Hell to get him back, even if it means giving up everything.

[maladaptive-day-dreams]

Think of Me

Steve x gn!reader, angst, 1k words Inspired by the song Think of Me by Madi Diaz (song lyrics are bolded in the fic!)

CW: cheating (Stancy), mention of s3x/infidelity, yelling and fighting, angry reader, despondent but also undisturbed Steve (he’s accepted what he’s done and doesn’t care at this point)

Author's Note: omg wow I'm posting again whaaaaat. First person bc I didn't feel like going and changing it to you/yours, soz. I got a lil sad at this as a relatively new Stevie gal, but pls enjoy (also imagine this as the angsty kind of sad boi to follow...but don't feel too bad for him bc he cheated).

I know that something is wrong. Steve has been off for the last few weeks but I don’t know why and he hasn’t said anything. He’s been distant, less affectionate, only brief kisses on my cheek when he’s leaving versus the usual heady lip-locking. I can’t remember the last time he initiated sex, but I can remember the last time I heard him jacking off in the bathroom even though I told him I was up for it. Or the last time I heard him leave the house and come back three hours later smelling clean, but sweet.

It has me anxious. Like all of my atoms are under attack. But I don't wanna say nothing so I don't react.

I’ve been silent, haven’t brought it up or made it known that I felt him pulling away. No, I don't even notice him.

He’s in the kitchen and I’m in the bath.

“Yeah, I can't play normal and you can't pretend,” I say through the open doorway. I know he can hear me. I see his back tense as he pauses washing the dinner dishes.

“What are you talking about?” he scoffs.

“I can’t pretend that I don't know where you go, anymore.”

He turns, his face marred with a question but his eyes know what I’m saying. He wipes his hands with a dish towel before closing the distance between us and leaning against the bathroom door. I lean on my arms atop the side of the bathtub.

“Am I not enough?” I ask. Before he can interrupt I keep going. “Is it because of what happened last spring? With Vecna?”

He tenses. His eyes focused on the tile floor in front of him.

I continue.

“I know where you go,” I laugh, throwing my hands up and sinking back into the lukewarm bathwater. “I know where you go. Do you think I don’t notice? How you leave in the middle of the night? How you only to come back to bed hours later with damp hair and smelling like Mike?”

He looks at me at that.

“Are you that daft? I buy your body wash. It’s always the citrus one because you can’t stand any other scents, they give you headaches. But when you come back to bed you smell like Irish Spring. I know that’s what Mike uses because that’s what his mom buys him when she comes through my line at the grocery store.”

“You’re crazy. I go to the park and run and then sneak into the pool showers and that’s what people leave there. You know I have nightmares and that running helps.” He starts to turn around, back towards the kitchen

“Then how do you explain your clothes smelling like her room.”

He hesitates. And I stand up in the bath.

“I’ve been in her room before, I know her perfume. For fucks sake we made out for the first time on her bed two years ago at her Halloween party, of course I know what that room smells like. We made one of my favorite memories there that night.”

He doesn’t say anything. I dry myself off and put on my pajamas that were sitting on the toilet lid.

“I hope you fuck her with your eyes closed. And think of me.”

“Y/N,” he whispers, hand reaching for mine when I pass him as I leave the bathroom.

“No. I hope you love her with the lights low and think of me. Think of me waiting here staring at the ceiling, checking the clock for when you come home.”

“Please. You know we have history, you know that.”

I turn and face him. His eyes are watery, red, sad. “Yeah, yeah I do. But I thought you loved me? I thought you were over her? I thought you were just friends now?”

“We’re bonded,” he says grabbing my arms. “With everything we’ve been through, there’s no way I can live without Nancy in my life.”

I stare at him, waiting for him to continue his attempt at redemption.

“We never expected it to happen. We didn’t want to fall back into it but it just— We just did. It was familiar, it was comfortable, it was comfort for us.”

“Being with me wasn’t comfort enough? You had to go back to her?”

Angry tears dampened my cheeks. I ripped my arms from his grasp to wipe them away.

“I hope you fuck her with your eyes closed," I repeat. "I hope looking at her makes guilt burrow into your stomach. Put the shame off with some Benzos, swallow the feeling while you walk home. And think of me. Always.”

Steve’s staring at the floor again. Refusing to look at me.

“You aren’t even denying it anymore. All of the color has drained from your face.”

Nothing. No apology.

“I’m sorry and I love you is noise that you make now. Nothing more, they don’t sound like they used to. Like any feeling you had behind them has disappeared."

“I’m sorry,” he whispered.

“Y’know at first, no, I didn't even notice you stayin' out—Stayin’ out all night. I didn’t think you’d be in her bed, running your fingers down her thighs. Lickin’ your lips in the low light. No, I didn't even notice you come home and kiss me with her chapstick on your lips. I didn’t think you’d do that to me. To us.”

“I-”

“We talked about marriage, Steve!” I yelled, storming into our shared bedroom. He doesn’t follow. “Kids! A life outside of this hellhole!”

I’m throwing as many clothes and things as I can into my duffle bag.

“But now?” I ask, slinging the bag over my shoulder and shoving my feet into my sneakers.

I walk back to the kitchen. He looks defeated. He’s not even trying to save this, to fix this.

“Fuck you, Steve.” I spit, anger mixing with heartbreak. “I can’t-I hope you fuck her with your eyes closed and think of me.”

It’s all I can think of now. I have no words, no defenses, no pleas. Just: “I hope you love her with the lights low and think of me. I hope you fuck her with your eyes closed, put the shame off with some Benzos, swallow the feeling while you walk home and think of me always. Think of me, think of me always.”

I slam the door behind me as I leave and head for anywhere but here.

[hyunnows]

scenery | kth

► PAIRING(S): Taehyung x reader

► CONTENT/WARNINGS: angst, photographer!tae, unrequited s2l(?)

► WORD COUNT: 1k+

► RATING: pg13

► SUMMARY: “i want to make you mine”

►SONG: Scenery by V

► A/N: another bccsg work! honestly, i really liked writing this one, and i noticed i give taehyung the short end of the stick a lot lol. poor guy. i hope you guys enjoy the angst, and the calmness, because that's what i was going for. have a great day/night! <3

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The desolate park's ground shimmers like white glitter, bushes, trees and wilted flowers swaying in the cool breeze. There's not many people, only a few couples and morning joggers passing through, and Taehyung.

He's easy to spot, dressed fashionably for someone in such an old and run-down park. Beanie on his head, his lips, nose, and cheeks pink with the cold. He stands tall, like a statue, amongst the mostly flat ground in the park. The only things taller than him are a lonely lamp post and a freezing tree.

He raises his camera, focusing the lens and photographing the frosty street’s white flowers. Then, after hearing the satisfying click, he checks the picture, and checks around him, searching for the stranger that occupied most of his time here at the park. You weren’t there yet.

Instead of wasting his storage on the same bush of flowers, he takes a seat on the dark, metal bench that was freezing to the touch. He aims his camera at the large oak tree that was still holding onto it’s forest green leaves. The only pops of color in the monotonous dawn, the tree, and his tan colored coat.

He clicks one, two, and three photos of the tree at slightly different angles, each with a new light setting that brings a new piece of the photo to life. Then he turns to watch the park through his camera, zooming on the different people and snapping pictures of their silhouettes.

Soon enough, there you were, head tucked into your scarf. Warm, thick leggings hugging your legs and large, fluffy boots encasing your feet and hiding you from the cold. In your hair, tiny, sprinkled fragments of snow hanging onto you.

You take notice of Taehyung’s figure beside your regular seat, but you don’t make any moves to talk to him, simply sitting beside him. You instead subtly observe how the streetlamp’s dull light reflects from the snow to his gentle features. And you contemplate breaking the familiar silence that covered you two.

You decide not to, enjoying the peaceful silence. It wasn’t unusual for the two of you to sit like this, comfortable and quiet in each other’s presence. You were both content with the wordless relationship you shared–one where you’d relax beside each other for hours on that frozen bench, voicelessly admiring each other. Waiting for the other to make the first move. Waiting.

After a while, a staticky hum fills the park, and he turns your attention to the main event of the morning. He may have started frequenting the park because of you, but he’d originally found it because of the old black and white films they’d show on a classic silver screen. Taehyung knows you come here almost entirely for the films, and that he was most likely a pleasant bonus. Still, he likes to think you steal as many longing stares and short daydreams as he does.

Taehyung wants to know you, wants to hear your voice and learn your stories. He misses his recklessly-confident old self, because he would’ve worked on impulse and had your name, number, and probably would’ve taken you out a few times by now. Now, he’s far too shy and nervous to even greet you with more than a wave and head-bob.

He should’ve said hi that day, he should’ve introduced himself, made some sort of move. Because while he turns away from you for a split second, someone else decides to take their chance, stealing your attention. You two talk each other’s ears off and Taehyung wishes he’d sucked it up and started a conversation, so he’d be the cause of your quiet giggles and storytelling instead of the stranger.

He’s sure that if he’d just gotten over himself, just gathered his courage, you would have left holding his hand, throwing your bright smiles at him, and holding onto his arm. He would be smiling next to you, taking you for a park stroll, instead of watching your footprints in the snow.

Taehyung sighs to himself, looking up at the glowing moon, illuminating the inky morning. He snaps a picture of it, sympathetic to its lonely nature. Then, he turns his camera to where you sat, positioning it to capture the sprinkled snow on the seat and the oak that sits on the other side of the bench from an upwards angle.

He stands, looking through its frosty lens to wear you’d walked off, dropping the camera slowly to hover in front of his mouth instead of his eye, fogging the digital screen as he stares after you. It felt like his heart was slowing down, time stopping at the moment where he can see a mirage of you sitting on the bench, smiling at him.

He picks the device up again and takes a few shots of where your footprints stayed indented into the snow, silently promising himself that he'll finally start up a conversation with you tomorrow. Packing up his lenses and his phone, he takes one last look at where you'd sat, staring at them before walking off to his car, hands tucked into his trench coat's pockets.

You don't come tomorrow, or the day after, or ever again.

Taehyung waits every day, eventually understanding that he'd never see you again, but he hopes and wonders. Would you have given him the time of day? Let him take you out and treat you right? Would you two be in love, nervous and giddy? He wonders, would it have been like a fairy tale?

But that's all he can do. Wonder, watch, wait. He knows you're never coming back, accepting that you two won't ever be.

He stares at a neatly folded photo in his pocket, one he'd taken of you when you weren't looking. Your bright [E/C] eyes focused on the moon, the slowly rising sun warming your features against the snowy background. He breathes, watching his exhalation cloud up his circular glasses, and carefully puts it back in his pocket.

If he could turn back the clock, to that day, he'd change something. He'd talk to you, maybe even get your number, and you two would at least be friends.

I want to make you mine.

Positive note | Navigation | Taglist

[thelightofthingshopedfor]

open the door and let the flood back in (Loki & Sylvie, 1k words, just a little speculation for the end of episode 4) Rating: General Warnings: no archive warnings apply; references to mind control; very vague reference to torture Summary: Loki's awkwardness would be at least a little endearing under almost any other circumstances, Sylvie thinks, but there’s not much room for anything else alongside the numb hollowness of defeat. (A little speculation, at the last minute when it's no doubt about to be proven wrong, on what Loki might have said at the end of episode 4, other than the obvious, if he hadn't been interrupted. Spoilers through episode 4, obviously. Can be read as shippy or not.)

The nerve endings in my arms are working just fine, yeah, Sylvie almost says, but the snark doesn’t come so easily with the fake Time-Keeper’s head on the floor nearby, and that makes her pause long enough to realize that yes, there’s…something else, something deep inside the core of her magic that she’s never felt before. Something like—the recognition of a touch, or an echo, or both at once even if that really doesn’t make sense. Like she’s reaching out in the dark by instinct, and she knows someone else is reaching back.

She frowns. “Are you doing something?”

“I think we’re doing something,” he says, and now she can feel it, a flicker of suppressed excitement that isn’t just hers.

Sylvie’s eyes widen. “You are not in my head.”

“I’m not,” Loki says. “We’re just—listen, I’ve read about this. It was only ever a theory, nobody’s ever been able to do it properly, but there were scholars who suggested that two people could link their magic together, if—if their souls were similar enough, I think that was how it was discussed at the time, and create something like a feedback loop, continuously amplifying each other’s power. But strangers could never do it because they didn’t know and trust one another, let alone deeply and openly enough to allow that kind of connection, and even for people who did, mages who were lovers or lifelong friends, even if they both genuinely wanted to make the link, their magic wasn’t quite compatible. Not enough for that. A couple pairs of twins came the closest, I think, but all they could really do was boost each other’s power a little, so it was never worth the energy expenditure.”

“Because they weren’t the same,” Sylvie says. She’s pretty sure she can guess where he’s going with this.

“Two variants of the same being—we’re different people, we learned magic differently, we use it in different ways, but it’s still—the root is the same. The energy signature.” He grins. “They did say our temporal aura was the same. They just didn’t realize why it mattered. Or maybe they did, and that’s one reason they made sure only one of us could exist at a time.”

Sylvie is used to drawing power from her core and reaching out with it to take control of other minds. It’s easy enough, most of the time, because she has the process down, but it was exhausting when she was still experimenting—is exhausting, if she spends enough time fighting a strong mind or trying to control too many people at once. She pulls on a tendril of magic and feeds it into the little knot of Loki’s power, and—

It doesn’t disappear. It comes back stronger. In her mind’s eye, their magic glows brighter together, like a fire growing as it finds more to burn. “Okay, yeah, that’s new.”

“The theory was—an exponential increase for both mages. Doubling their power at minimum, like…like two wavelengths amplifying each other, or maybe a lot more than that.” He pushes power into the connection, more than she’d tried, and she can feel it: magnifying her power, which feeds back into his and strengthens it again, which expands hers in return, and they’ve barely even started.

“A lot more,” Sylvie says, staring at him, her mouth suddenly very dry. “Like nuclear fusion levels of a lot.”

His eyes gleam in the dim light. “Exactly. And I think that’s what caused the nexus event. I think our magic would have done it at the last second to save us, and I think we would’ve saved what was left of Lamentis-1 in the process.”

A burst of involuntary magic from both of them at once, at the moment that would otherwise be their deaths, doubling again and again as it passed back and forth between their joined hands—yeah, actually, she can see it. It doesn’t sound so absurd when she can still feel their linked power multiplying right now and they’ve hardly tried. “That’s insane.”

“Goes without saying.”

“We could—” She swallows. “We could do anything.”

“We could do anything,” Loki agrees.

“And do we? Trust each other that much?” she asks, but to be honest she already knows the answer. She reaches back for him, finally, settling her hands on his forearms, and his skin twitches under her fingers—like when she first put her hand on his arm on Lamentis, and he flinched like the last thing he expected was a gentle touch.

Loki’s mouth twists in a faintly sardonic half-smile. “I’m not…good with trust. Gave too much of it for a long time, maybe. And then—” He hesitates. “We might…share some memories, and I haven’t—the TVA knows what happened, I suppose. But there’s a good reason I’ve made sure nobody can get into my head again. You might see why, and it’s…not pretty.”

Okay, yeah, she can imagine a few different reasons for that and none of them are very pleasant. That flinch could hint at an ugly story too. She pulls his hands down, just far enough to interlace her fingers with his, and meets his gaze squarely. “My memories aren’t a laugh riot either. Do you trust me with yours?”

Loki squeezes her hands, just a little. “Yes, actually. You?”

She cocks one eyebrow at him. “Be a little inappropriate to say I’ll show you mine if you show me yours, right?”

He coughs out a laugh. “Maybe a little. So—do you want to try? See what kind of universe-disrupting chaos we can make?”

She tightens her grip. “Yeah. Hell yeah.”

***

[I didn't exactly come up with this idea--I developed more detail about the whole idea of magical amplification, but I know I came across at least one Tumblr post theorizing that Loki and Sylvie were about to do something that would save Lamentis, which was actually caused the nexus event and the TVA's intervention rather than them falling in love or whatever. Unfortunately I'm not actually sure who posted that, and my drafts and likes are already a nightmare, but I will make every effort to find the original post and link to it. I just really wanted to get this posted while, you know, we still can theorize.

Do I think this was actually the intent of the scene? Not really, no, although it sure would've been cool. Is it a little silly to write this when I could potentially find out in just over two hours how wrong I am? Maybe a little bit but on the other hand I finished a short fic and the whole entire point of what I’ve been writing lately is to try to finish some short no-pressure fics without letting them turn into a whole complicated thing in my head, and you know what it fulfills that purpose so I'm cool with it. AO3 link in the notes, just wanted to post it here because it’s short, it’s speculative, and Tumblr hates links.]

[bedlamsbard]

Writing tag game -- tagged by @lessattitudemorealtitude

how many works do you have on Ao3?

Discounting podfic on which I’m listed as a co-author, 24.  My concept writing doesn’t go to AO3 and the vast majority of my Narnia fic was never cross-posted there.  (Or reposted there, actually, I think most of it pre-dates the AO3.)

what’s your total Ao3 word count?

1,050,810.  oh, huh, I didn’t actually realize I’d passed the one million word mark (probably with Crown).

what are your top 5 fics by kudos?

all of these ended up being Star Wars, which is not a huge surprise.  Morning will probably reach Dirt in the next couple of updates, I’d guess.

Immutable, or, Five Times Obi-Wan Kenobi Compromised His Jedi Ethics for Anakin Skywalker -- this is not the oldest Star Wars fic on there, but I think it’s the second oldest. people just really like 5 times fic.

Wake the Storm - did you know that when I started Wake I assumed it was a very niche trope in what was, at the time, a pretty dead fandom? the kudos count on Wake actually outnumbers Gambit by more than 1600 kudos, so the number of people who go from Wake to Gambit is a lot lower than you might think.

Queen's Gambit - a significantly lower kudos count than Wake or Immutable.  Gambit’s such a weirdo of a story, tbh, I can’t be surprised by anything about Gambit anymore.

On the Edge of the Devil's Backbone - about 600 kudos less than Gambit, so less difference between Gambit and Backbone than between Wake and Gambit.

Dirt in the Machine - another older fic.  I’d rewrite this one if I cared enough to do so, because it’s not at my current standards (Immutable isn’t either, for that matter) and I kind of wince every time I get comments on it.  this is the first one of the top five to have below 1K kudos.

do you respond to comments, why or why not?

I’ll usually respond to direct questions, but I very, very seldom respond to comments in general.  This is an old standing policy of mine that’s now more than a decade old -- it used to be I’d wait twenty-four hours before responding, then I’d respond right before the next chapter went up, and for a while I’d only respond to comments on the first few chapters of a story.  Now I just mostly do not.  The reasons for this are: (1) many, many years ago, I lost my temper pretty badly at a comment on a fic of mine (this was pre-AO3, this was back in my LJ days), and after that I moved to the “wait twenty-four hours” response so I didn’t say anything without thinking about it, (2) I do go back and reread comments but I hate rereading my own responses, (3) I prefer to know the comments numbers on my fic are all from actual comments and not from me saying “thanks for reading!”, (4) I can’t take that kind of responsibility for answering every single comment, man.

what’s the fic you’ve written with the happiest ending?

Of stuff I’ve written in the past ten years? (I can’t really remember before that.)  Maybe Backbone, because it ends on that pretty upbeat “yay team we’re going to be rebels now!” note.  or Devil’s in the Details (other side part 1), though I don’t really want to consider it a finished fic even though it’s technically finished; it has another “yay team we’re back together (minus Ezra)” ending.  I tend to end on complicated and reasonably open endings, not like...happy endings.

what’s the fic you’ve written with the angstiest ending?

probably Gambit for the “everything is super fucked up” factor and also the fact that I never wrote the sequel. plus it ended with the entire Wake trio split up in a whole new universe, plus back in the Gambitverse Amidala not able to go back to Naboo, Ahsoka shunned, Palpatine’s new empire, Rex trapped in the Gambitverse, etc.

do you write crossovers?

I did in my Narnia days. I don’t anymore. Working in widespread fandoms like Star Wars or the MCU is basically like writing crossover fic within the same universe, anyway.

have you ever received hate on a fic?

*hysterical laughter*

...yes. yes I have. it’s the reason every time I get a comment notification on Gambit or Wake I freeze in absolute terror. people HATE Wake and Gambit.  I hate to say never, but I will probably never write those characters or in that series again.

do you write smut? if so, what kind?

not really?  I’ve done relatively non-explicit sex but it’s not something I’m super comfortable writing, especially in recent years. I’m much more likely to do a fade to black.

have you ever had a fic stolen?

I think Gambit got scraped once when it was still in progress and my response was something along the lines of “good luck, bro,” given the whole “still in progress” thing.

have you ever had a fic translated?

I’ve gotten a couple of translation requests but I can’t recall if anything’s ever been translated.  (Or if I responded to them...I know a few I forgot to respond.)

have you ever co-written a fic before?

Yes, back in my Narnia days.  Some SW concept writing and that ended so badly that I’ll never co-write again.

what’s your all-time favourite ship?

Kanan/Hera, of course!

what’s a wip that you want to finish but don’t think you ever will?

gods, Dust in the Air, my Narnia Last Battle AU.  Back when I started it in 2008 or so I didn’t have the self-control or discipline I do now, even if I had a lot of the worldbuilding ability and the ability to conceive of if not execute long plot arcs, and I broke off more than I could chew.  If I ever went back to it I’d probably have to do a complete rewrite and it has the unique problem among my WIPs of being the last major fic I wrote in present tense -- I now write exclusively in past tense.  The bones of the story are good, I’d just have to go back to the bones and not just pick up where I left off.

what are your writing strengths?

Plot, worldbuilding/environment, action.  I also do genuinely think I’m very good at characterization too, but I think they’re all inter-related.  (Except the action, that’s me alone.  I love writing action and I generally get a lot of compliments on my action scenes.)  look, I know it’s conceited, but I’m good and I know I’m good, and I’m good in a pretty well-rounded way for the genre I write.

what are your writing weaknesses?

brevity. can’t do it.

honestly, there are others, but I don’t write stories where they’d come up.  I think I have a tendency to get to bogged down in dialogue in a way that I’ve never quite solved.  I also let my emotions take over too much and not in the good fannish way, in the “I’m having a fucked up relationship with canon or fandom and it’s affecting my ability to work” way.

what are your thoughts on writing dialogue in other languages in a fic?

please stop having your Asgardians speak Latin for magic, man, that’s my feeling on it.

okay, my feelings on it for me -- I’ve sprinkled bits and pieces of Huttese, Twi’leki, and tee-tiny bits of other stuff here and there in fic.  I’d not be comfortable doing more than that because the only other language that I really feel comfortable doing anything significant in is Latin, and even then I’d hesitate. also, like, Latin! not a language that comes up in the fandoms I write in.  even then, like -- any extended dialogue should be intelligible to the audience, and I don’t expect my audience to be able read anything other than English; I’d rather just say “they switched to Twi’leki to say” or something similar.

what was the first fandom you wrote for?

like, online? Harry Potter. for things that I didn’t post online because I didn’t know what fic was yet? probably either The 10th Kingdom or The Mummy.

what’s your favourite fic you’ve written?

On the Edge of the Devil’s Backbone.  I think it’s the best thing I’ve ever written, I think it’s the most tightly plotted, I think it’s got the best worldbuilding, I think it’s remarkably consistent thematically, and it was, at the time, a fic that I was very devoted to finishing or dying trying, because I was going through it at the time and some of it was connected to the fic.

I don’t tag people, but please go for if you want!

[aliendes]

One More Day

shy!yoongi, brother!namjoon, depressed!reader

Warnings: TRIGGER WARNING! heavy angst, mentions of death/suicide, dark themes, mentions of alcohol and drug use, Joon is a straight up asshole I am so sorry (it gets better in the end), reader smokes cigarettes (if that bothers you?), depression/anxiety. This story is in no way meant to romanticize suicide, if you or someone you know is suffering, please call or text 1-800-273-8255.

Word count:  27837 (yikes I am actually sorry) Genre: Angst, fluff NSFW because of suicide mentions?

A/N: Did I write a Christmas story in the middle of July? Yes. Am I sorry? Also, yes. This is entirely unedited and was only meant to be like a 1k drabble. As you can see, it got away from me a little (a lot). I will eventually go back and edit, but I cannot be bothered right now. I’m so sorry for my shitty character development here, I was just trying to get this out of my brain and it just snowballed (hehe) into this monster.  If anyone is interested, I wouldn’t mind doing drabbles about this couple in the future! Send me an ask! This is a work of fiction. Any character names/likenesses are coincidence are are not meant to represent actual people.  **PLEASE READ!: Hi all! This is my first fic that I am posting to this blog. THANK YOU for reading this! If you like this story, I would REALLY appreciate it if you could reblog/comment on the fic. Also! Follow me if you’re interested in my writing. I am currently writing a multi chaptered dystopian AU and will be doing polls on my blog where readers can vote on a couple of aspects of the story. I hope you stick around!

Listened to: Be Kind (Marshmello & Halsey) & Waste It On Me (Steve Aoki & BTS) while writing this. 

You stood on the deck of your parents cabin, staring out at the frozen over lake, shrouded in darkness. You couldn’t remember what time it was, or really even what day it was, just that you needed to get away for awhile. Your breath was turning into white clouds around your face, and then drifting up into the atmosphere. It was calming in a way. Freezing, but calming. 

It was the middle of December, nearly Christmas, what used to be your favorite time of year. You and your mom, dad, and older brother Namjoon would come up to this cabin and spend two weeks at the end of every year. Your dad and brother would always find the tallest tree for the living room of the cabin, with it’s high vaulted ceilings. You and your mom would spend hours decorating the tree, always turning out like a Better Homes & Garden magazine cover. Your mom loved to decorate, and she was damn good at it. You and Namjoon would bake cookies together, despite your mom’s protests over Namjoon being in the kitchen. He was always a disaster waiting to happen. You can still taste the gingerbread like it was yesterday. You smiled slightly, remembering what Christmas used to be like. Now, Christmas was a shitty reminder of what used to be.

It’s been 7 years since the last time you were all together at this cabin. Nearly 6 years since your parents death, and 3 years since you last saw or spoke to your brother. You knew he was doing well, living it up in the big city of Seoul. He was a music producer, and you would hear about him and his accomplishments through friends of friends. You were proud of him. Not that he would ever believe that, and it’s not like you would ever have the chance to tell him.

For the last few years, you had been coming up to the cabin alone. You always took two weeks off work and spent that time trying to keep your parents spirits alive in the form of Christmas cookies and movies. It was your own way of coping with their absence. Namjoon found his ways of coping by blocking the memories out, you found yours in a glass of wine and a couple cigarettes out on this deck. Speaking of which, you should probably light one up now, you’ve been standing here for a while.

Just as you were reaching in your pocket for your lighter, you heard a snapping sound from the left of the desk, startling you in your place, cigarette still hanging from your chapped lips. You turned your head towards the noise, almost giving yourself whiplash. No one should be out here at this time, you thought to yourself. You pocketed your lighter and took the cigarette between your fingers, slowly walking towards the edge of the deck. Sue you, you had a curious mind. Namjoon always used to tell you it would get you killed one day. Not like you cared much anymore. 

“Holy shit!” you gasped, nearly throwing your cigarette, when you saw a figure walk out from between the trees lining your property and the one next to it. It was a man you didn’t recognize. You squint your eyes slightly to try and see better in the dark. He stepped closer to your with both hands raised in front of him as a way to placate you.

“Sorry! I’m sorry! I -” he started, but trailed off almost like he forgot what he was going to say. You raised a brow at him, still unsure of the stranger. “I’m Min Yoongi, I live next door. I promise I’m not a creep or anything, I just noticed you standing out here for a while and wanted to make sure you weren’t locked out or something, I - I, yeah that sounded creepy. I’m sorry.” He rushed out the last words, looking almost sheepish. 

Cute.

You stood there for a second too long, and Yoongi, as you now knew him, looked almost like he was about to bolt back in the direction he came. “I - I’m sorry, I’ll g-”

“No, it’s ok.” You let out a deep sigh and chuckled darkly, no humor to be found. “You just startled me, is all.” You said with what you hoped was a small smile. It wasn’t, Yoongi noted, but he didn’t care, just glad you were responding at all.

Another beat passes, “... so are you alright - did you need help?” He drawled, unsure of where the conversation was headed. 

“No, no. This is my par- mine- my house. Well, not my permanent house, but you probably already knew that.” You stuttered. He must’ve realized the house next door to him was vacant 11 months out of the year, right?

 “Ah yeah, I kind of figured that out.” he took a hesitant step forward. When he saw you weren’t running for the hills, he slowly made his way into the illumination provided by the floodlights on the back porch. You took in his features now that you could see them better. He had bleach blonde hair that looked a little fried, but that suited him nicely, small, feline like brown eyes, and he currently wore a gummy smile that was quite endearing. Had you not been in a spiraling depression, you may have thought he was pretty handsome. He ran his hand through his golden locks, “This house is usually empty, I only notice it occupied around this time of year. I’m assuming it’s your vacation house? You said it was your parents place, right?” He took hesitant steps up to the deck.

So he caught that. Damn. “Was.” You stated simply. “It was my parents place. It’s mine now, I come here alone.” Yoongi knew that. He’s lived next door for 8 years now, on and off. Every Christmas for the last few years, you’d been alone. He wasn’t a creeper, but he did notice you smoking those nasty cigarettes out on this very deck, alone, every year. He remembers you used to come here with someone. A boyfriend maybe? It wasn’t his place to ask. 

He’s at the bottom of the steps that lead up to your deck, looking up at you with an unreadable expression. Pity? No, there’s no way he knows what’s going on in your mind. He hesitates a moment before - “Are you ok?” 

The question catches you off guard. Were you ok? You knew the answer was a big, fat no. But was that something you should share with him? A near stranger? Aside from the obvious questions you had, when was the last time someone asked you that? You couldn’t remember anyone caring enough about you in the last few years to even utter those words to you. The only people you interacted with were your coworkers, who didn’t give a shit about your personal life. All your boss cared about was that you got the job done. You almost wanted to trust this man, share with him how you’re feeling, God knows you need it. You’ve been staring at him for too long, he must think you’re crazy now. “Yeah. Yeah I’m good.” You mutter, looking anywhere but his eyes. 

“Look, it’s not really my place to pry, but you’ve been standing out here in the freezing cold for over an hour.” Had it really been that long? “Do you want to maybe go inside?”

“With you?” you asked, slightly startled at his proposition. 

His eyes widen to the size of dinner plates, and you had a distant thought that he looked oddly adorable like that. “No! No, no. I mean unless you want to come to my house?” He half asked, slightly confused, shaking his head. “I just meant, you aren’t really dressed for the 3 degree weather, don’t you think you should head back inside?” 

Oh. He was just being nice. You weren’t used to this. Leave it to you to jump to weird conclusions. You cocked your head to the side, looking at him with a dumb look. “Yeah…” you trailed off. “I was actually just about to smoke a cigarette, then I’ll head inside.” He gave you another unreadable look, and slowly started to nod.

“O- ok then.” He seemed like he wanted to say more, but stopped himself.

“Do you smoke?”

“Oh no, I don’t. Thank you though.” He said, rubbing the back of his neck and looking anywhere but at you, like he didn’t want to offend you.

“I’m not offended, I know most people think it’s a nasty habit.” You took the lighter back out of your front pocket and put the cigarette to your now very cold, very dry lips. “Want to sit with me?” You asked after you took your first drag of the cigarette.

Yoongi looked back towards his house, and then back at you. “Yeah, let me go grab a coat and I’ll be right back.” he stuttered out. You hadn’t even noticed he was only wearing jeans and a flannel. Poor guy, you’ve been staring stupidly at him for at least 15 minutes, he must be freezing by now. 

“Take your time.” You waved him off as he jogged briskly past the trees and shrubs. You watched him enter his back porch and saw a few lights flicker on, then off again. Taking another drag from your cigarette, you looked back out over the lake. Leaning your elbows on the deck railing, you realized you were, in fact, freezing in nothing but a long sleeve t-shirt and pajama pants. You didn’t intend to be out here this long, only meaning to smoke one cigarette and head back inside, only to lose track of time.

“Want to sit down?” Yoongi’s voice snapped you out of your reverie, slightly startling you. “Sorry - didn’t mean to scare you again” he laughed dryly. He pulled a couple of the deck chairs closer to the railing and sat down. It was then that you noticed he was now wearing a thick winter coat, and in his hands he held another coat, and what looked suspiciously like a blanket. You raised an eyebrow at him, but slowly walked towards the chair, holding your cigarette away from Yoongi, respectful of others' distaste for the smell.

As you sat down in the chair to Yoongi’s right, he dully shook the coat he was holding in your direction with a raised brow. A silent offering. “Thanks.” You muttered lamely, taking the coat from him. It was thick, and smelled citrus-y. Oranges? With maybe a hint of cloves. It smelled manly, wrapping you in his scent when you threw it over your shoulders. 

“No problem” he gruffed out. His deep voice was soothing your cold soul at the moment, a feeling you haven’t had in a long time. “I- I brought a blanket” he hesitates, slowly unfolding the blanket, watching your face to make sure what he was about to do was alright, “is this ok?” he asks as he set the unfolded blanket over yours and his legs. You nod at him, taking another drag from your cigarette. Once the blanket is situated, he grabs one of the legs of your chair and pulls it closer to his, so the blanket drapes all the way over you. You offer him a small smile, and then turn your head to blow the smoke in the other direction. “I don’t mind the smoke, you know. My older brother smokes like a train, I’m used to it.” 

You smirk at him. “Are you implying I smoke like a train?”

“N-no! No, of course not - that’s not, that isn’t” he starts to stutter, shaking his head.

“Relax, Yoongi. I was kidding.” You let out as you exhale your last bit of smoke, putting your cigarette out on the deck floor. You should probably bring an ashtray up here with you next time you visit, which was becoming more and more infrequent as time went on. You used to come up here in the summer with Namjoon, but those days were long gone. 

He ducked his head slightly, the flood light illuminating the side of his face from behind him. He really was beautiful, you noticed. A small, slanted nose, with cute puffy cheeks. They were a little red from being out in the cold, but cute nonetheless.  

“Sorry, I didn’t mean it like that..” he starts to trail off, realizing he doesn’t know your name.

“YN. Sorry - my name is YN.” 

“YN.” He tries it out on his tongue. He likes the way it sounds. “Pretty.” He noted, face heating after he realized what he said. You smiled at him, the first genuine smile he’s seen all night and he realizes he likes it, and wants to see more of it, preferably in the near future. He gives you a gummy smile in return. “What brings you out here, at -” he quickly pulls his phone from his pocket and glances at the time, “- nearly midnight?”

“Oh you know, just dealing with life.” You glance out into the distance, back at that damned lake. Yoongi must have sensed your distress, because he is quickly switching the subject.

“It’s really pretty out here this time of year.” He states, lamely, looking out at the lake with you. “The lake freezes over in November, makes for some really beautiful scenery.” 

“Yeah… I know. I’ve been coming here with my family since I was 8.” You didn’t take your focus away from the lake as you spoke. 

“What… happened? If you don’t mind me asking.” Yoongi quickly read the expression on your face and added, “You totally don’t have to answer that, I’m sorry.”

“No, it’s ok actually. I haven’t really talked about it in a while.” You chanced a glance at Yoongi, his expression serious, focused completely on you. You were taken aback for a brief moment, wondering what was making you trust this man, before you went on, “My parents died almost 6 years ago. We used to come out here as a family every Christmas for the last two weeks of the year. I still make the trip every year to keep their memory, alive? I guess. That sounds kind of stupid saying it out loud.”

“No it doesn’t,” Yoongi stated simply, “That makes perfect sense. You feel closer to them when you’re here, right?” You slowly nodded, still staring into his deep brown orbs. “Look, at the risk of making myself seem like a peeping Tom, I noticed you used to come here with a man, but I haven’t seen him in a while. Is everything ok with…?” His question trailed off. So he has noticed you before.

“Namjoon,” you said, turning your head away, “my brother.” 

Your brother. He didn’t expect that. From what little glimpses he saw of the two of you, you always seemed like a bickering couple. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to bring up bad memories.” 

“No it’s fine, you’re very observant, you know. How long have you lived there, exactly?” You asked, turning back to look at the sweet man beside you, gesturing towards his home.

“Almost 8 years. Inherited the place from my grandmother. The first few years I was only here on and off, still living mostly in Daegu. Fully moved in about 5 years ago.” His expression changed, looking like he was reminiscing on the past.

“So you must’ve seen me and Namjoon coming together before. He hasn’t come up here with me in three years. We don’t - we’re not really on good terms. He lives a couple hours away.” You left it at that, not really wanting to indulge in the reason why you weren’t on good terms. That was a conversation for another day. Your stomach fluttered at the thought of talking to Yoongi again. You were confused at the feeling for a moment before Yoongi was speaking.

“I get that. Me and my brother barely speak either. I can’t even remember the last time I saw him to be honest.” He gives you a sad smile, which you return. You’re unsure why you feel like you’ve known Yoongi longer than an hour, but he makes you feel warm in the middle of the harsh winter. You noticed his cheeks were becoming increasingly red and cursed yourself for being so inconsiderate.

“Do you, uh, do you want to go inside? I can make hot chocolate, or something…” you trail off dumbly. 

“Uh, y-yeah that sounds nice”, he faltered, grabbing the blanket draped over you, folding it neatly before ascending from his chair. You follow after him, moving towards the back door of your cabin. You didn’t realize just how cold you were until you opened the sliding glass door and a wall of heat hit you in the face. 

“Wow, I must have been out there a while. I’m freezing.” You chirped as you slid the door closed after Yoongi stepped inside the threshold. 

Yoongi pegged you with a questioning look, and at first you thought he must think you’re insane, before he said, “If you want, you can show me where you keep the hot chocolate and you can go take a shower, or something?” he faltered before adding, “I mean, if that’s ok with you, I know you barely know me-”

You cut him off before he could start babbling again, giving him a soft smile. “That would be really nice actually,” you said, leading him to the kitchen. “I’m not sure what all I have stocked up here, but you should find everything you need in the tea cabinet, above the stove,” you pointed to the stove, “and the mugs are in the cabinet next to the fridge. Feel free to make whatever you’d like. I’ll be down the hall, second door on the right if you need me.” You smiled at him again, causing him to internally melt at the sight, “Thank you, Yoongi.” The sincerity in your tone hurt him. He could tell that you haven’t been thankful for anyone or anything in a while and he didn’t like that. 

“Of course,” he croaked, I’d do anything to make you smile, he wanted to add, but didn’t. He just watched you trudge off to what he presumed was the restroom. He mentally slapped himself. Why was he acting like an idiot in front of this girl he hardly knew? He knew it was because he has seen your sad eyes staring out at the lake for the past three days now, and years before that. Watched you stand, emotionless, wondering what was going through your mind. Now that he’s seen what a smile looks like on your face, he never wants it to disappear again. He’s too empathetic, a trait he inherited from his mother, sometimes to a fault. But he didn’t care right now. Right now, he just wanted to make you happy, even if it was just for tonight. 

You let the hot water fall over your face, reveling in the way the steam was making your muscles feel. Even though your body was relaxing, your mind was starting to real. You think it’s December 21st, just a few days before Christmas. You’d arrived at the cabin three days prior, and would remain here for another week and a half. Usually, when you came to the cabin alone, you spent those two weeks wallowing in self pity, drinking yourself to near death. This was the first time you’ve had any interaction at the cabin in three years. Thinking back to three years ago, you recall your lowest moment at the cabin. The reason for the downfall of yours and Namjoon’s relationship.

It was Christmas Eve, and you had just finished off a bottle of your favorite wine. The fireplace was going, and some sappy Lifetime movie was playing in the background. Not that you were paying attention in the least. You and Joon had just fought over staying an extra day. You wanted to stay, spend some time together since you didn’t get to see him often, but he wanted to go back to Seoul to his girlfriend, Yuna. You never really liked her, but that’s beside the point. He was in his room, probably on the phone with her if the soft whispers were anything to go by, while you were on the couch in the living room. You had just poured yourself another glass of wine and were staring out the large bay windows that had a beautiful view of the lake. You used to love that lake when you were a kid. You and Joon would swing on the tire swing attached to the tree that was partially submerged in the lake when your parents would take you up here in the summers. In the winter, you and Joon would walk along the edge of the frozen water, admiring the beauty of it, listening to nature. Namjoon always did love all the little animals he would find down there. But now, as you looked out at the dark abyss of a lake, it only haunted you with memories of your parents.

You had contemplated it before, but was never brave enough to act. At that moment, though, you really didn’t think there was anything left to live for. Everything had fallen apart. Your parents were gone, your brother hated you, and you isolated yourself from all your friends so long ago, you really didn’t have anyone left. All you could think about, as tears streamed down your face, was how Joon wouldn’t care if you were gone. Your parents weren’t there anymore to care. You would be doing him a favor, right? He didn’t want to be around you, so if you weren’t here, he wouldn’t have to worry about your nagging anymore.

Shaking your head, you’re brought back into the present. Were there tears streaming down your face, or was it the water from the shower? The choked up feeling in your throat pointed towards the former. Great. Could Yoongi hear you? You hoped not. God, you hoped not. He seemed like such a sweet guy, kind and soft. You didn’t want to bring him down in your spiral and potentially scare away the only human interaction you’ve had in a while. 

Little did you know, Yoongi did you hear you. He had finished making hot chocolates a few minutes before he heard soft whimpers coming from the hallway. He immediately made his way towards the noise, realising that once he reached the bathroom door, he could hear you quietly sniffling in the shower. His heart sank at the sound. He didn’t knock, knew he shouldn't. But God, did he want to. Wanted to pull you into his arms, tell you that everything was going to be ok, and see that gorgeous smile again. But it wasn’t his place, and he knew that. So he walked back to the kitchen, solemn expression on his face, and waited patiently for you to calm yourself. 

Yoongi was unsure why he felt the need to comfort you. He hardly knew you, apart from what he’s seen of you over the years. Still, those glimpses weren’t really telling of what kind of person you were. You seemed kind, warm-hearted. You let him into your home, or your parent’s home, he guessed, when you saw that he was cold. You trusted him enough to dawdle about in your kitchen while you showered. That had to take some real trust, what if he was some psycho stalker? He wasn’t, of course. But you didn’t know that. 

The trust you put in him told him one of two things - you we’re either a very trusting person, or you had no fear. The latter made him feel sick. He knew you were going through a lot, but it’s been years since your parents death, you should be feeling somewhat better, right? No, he knew that wasn’t true. The pain of losing someone you love never goes away, he knew that better than anyone, and he didn’t even know the circumstances surrounding their death, or the fallout between you and your brother. Either way, when he looked in your eyes, he saw a sad, broken girl. He’s been that sad, broken person before, and he wanted to help you.

So he waited at your kitchen island, rewarming your mug of hot chocolate every five or so minutes, until you finally felt ready to come out of the bathroom. 

As you slowly towel dried your hair, you stared at your reddened eyes in the bathroom mirror. You knew Yoongi was probably waiting in the kitchen for you, with long cold drinks, but you didn’t want to embarrass yourself in front of this handsome stranger with your tears. You splashed some cool water on your face and applied some moisturizer to attempt to even out the redness of your face.

After you were satisfied with the puffiness, you threw on your pajama shorts and t-shirt you had brought with you from your room, and left your hair wrapped up in a towel. Who were you trying to impress, really? You barely knew Yoongi, despite the fact that you felt safe around him. You knew at the end of these two weeks you would go your separate ways and probably not speak again until next Christmas, if you even made it to next Christmas. Damn, why couldn’t you keep the morbid thoughts away for one night? 

Hesitantly, you made your way out of the bathroom and down the hallway, where you could hear the clinking of glasses coming from the kitchen. Curious, you sped up a little, until you reached the open floor plan kitchen of your cabin, shooting Yoongi a questioning look.

“Oh! Sorry - I just saw that you have some dishes in the sink, I just wanted to help. Sorry.” He looked sheepish, and you thought it was rather cute. 

“Thanks,” you offered shyly, feeling slightly embarrassed he saw your mess, and sat at one of the barstools in front of the kitchen island, “Did you find the drinks ok?” 

“Oh yeah - they cooled down a bit, so I warmed it up in the microwave.”

You smiled at his thoughtfulness, taking the warm mug from him. Yoongi knew that you had been crying, could see the puffiness in your eyes, but seeing you smile, even slightly, made his eyes light up.He watched as you rose from your seat, mug in hand, and made your way around the kitchen island. For a second, he thought you were going to approach him, but you walked right past him towards the fridge. You reached your short arms up and grabbed at a bottle sitting on top of the refrigerator, pulling it down and setting it on the counter. He watched on curiously as you opened the, almost empty, bottle of rum and poured some into your mug. You turned around, raising an eyebrow at his questioning look, “want some?” 

“Oh, uh, no thank you. It’s really late”, he advised hesitantly. He didn’t want to upset you, didn’t want to overstep bounds as you were an adult after all, but he was also questioning your current state of mind.

“I’m sorry if this makes you uncomfortable, if any of this makes you feel uncomfortable, you can leave. I’m trying my best to keep my head above water right now, both figuratively and literally.” You don’t know why you just said that to your neighbor, but you did and there was no taking it back. You removed your gaze from Yoongi’s, slowly walking towards your living room to have a seat on the plush couch. You never got around to redecorating the place after your parents death. It was almost like taking a step back into the past when you came up here. 

Yoongi’s eyes widened a fraction before he schooled his expression, following behind you, almost forgetting his drink but grabbing it at the last second. “YN, do you want to talk about it? I know we just met, but I want you to know I’m here for you. Whatever you need. Someone to listen, make you hot chocolate, whatever you need.” He gave you a sad smile and sat across from you on the loveseat, setting his mug down on the coffee table. 

You took another sip of your spiked hot chocolate, reveling in the burn at the back of your throat, before following Yoongi and setting it on the coffee table. “Why are you so nice to me? You barely know me,” you questioned him, pinning him with a serious look. 

“I’m sorry if I’m overstepping my bounds right now, but I know what it’s like to be depressed,” he looked up from his feet, resting his hands on his knees as he spoke, “I lost my mother when I was 15. I’m not saying by any means that I know what you’re going through, but when I lost my mom I felt like I had no one to talk to. I don’t know you, at least, not yet. But if you give me the chance, I would like to try? We are neighbors after all.” His momentary burst of confidence falters as he plays with his fingers and looks down at the carpet. 

Your gaze softened at the absolute sincerity in his tone. Was this real life? You almost wanted to pinch yourself to make sure you didn’t pass out drunk on the deck and dreamt up some hot stranger to ease your worries. You let out a breathy laugh, absent of any humor. You thought for a second, did you really want to unload this baggage on Yoongi? No, not right now. It’s better to keep things vague, that way there is no one to hurt if you’re gone. “Yoongi,” you started, causing his head to snap up to meet your gaze, teeth worrying his bottom lip, “You seem like a really nice guy,” Yoongi could sense a ‘but’ coming, preparing himself for rejection. It’s not like he isn’t used to it, being the shy guy in a small town he never really had the chance to talk to many people. “But I can’t promise you that I’ll even be around in a week. I don’t want to get attached to someone, it’ll just be harder in the end.”

That was not what Yoongi was expecting. His heart dropped down to his toes. He felt his stomach flip. Did you really just imply what he thinks you did? It didn’t matter if he barely knew you, you needed to know that someone cared for you. But he knew he needed to tread lightly here. He slowly got up from his spot on the loveseat and made his way over to you, crouching down so he could meet your downcast eyes. His hands were clasped together, but the moment you lifted your gaze to meet his, he unclasped both hands and held them out to you, wanting you to make the first move, conscious you might still feel uncomfortable with him. Hesitantly, you reached out one hand, which he grasped in both of his much larger ones. His warmth instantly soothing your cold bones.

“YN,” he whispered, barely audible, but you heard him, “I don’t know what your life is like back, wherever you’re from, but you’re here now. I’m here for you, and I would really, really, like to get to know you better. If you can’t promise me a week, can you at least promise me tomorrow?” He didn’t want to scare you away, dreading what might happen if he does. He saw unshed tears glistening in your doe eyes before continuing, “I’ll come over, every day, and we can spend Christmas together. You don’t have to be alone YN.”

The thought of not having to spend Christmas alone was enticing. The last time you spent Christmas with someone and was coherent enough to remember it, was four years ago, when you and Joon came up here. The last time you were up here, before that dreaded Christmas Eve three years ago. You wanted, really wanted, to take Yoongi up on his offer. But you felt like you owed it to him to explain why you were like this. Why you weren’t able to get close to anyone, why you felt like this was a bad idea. You thought, if you tell him what happened, about your demons, maybe it would scare him away and save him any future pain. With that in mind, you spoke, ““That fucking lake. It’s caused me so much pain, and now it’s like a sick metaphor of my life,” it was barely a whisper that left your lips. Yoongi could tell whatever you were about to say was heavy. He waited patiently, holding your sad gaze, silently letting you know he was listening. “They died in that lake. It was raining, my dad didn’t see the deer in front of them on the bridge leading into town. They had come up here for a weekend getaway without me and my brother, which they rarely even did. We found out two days later when they didn’t show up for work.” 

Yoongi instantly remembered exactly what you were talking about. How could he not have put two and two together? About six years ago, he was commuting back and forth from the cabin to Daegu for work. He was on his way up here for the weekend when the roads were blocked off at the bridge, he saw the overturned car in the embankment of the lake. Everyone in this small town talked about the couple who drowned in the lake for years after the accident. He even heard about how their child had tried to drown themselves in the same lake a few years ago…. Oh no. 

“YN.”

“It’s ok Yoongi. I don’t want sympathies, I don’t want anymore ‘I’m sorry”’s. You offered to listen, so I’m getting it all out.” You looked down, becoming hyper focused on your hand clasped in Yoongi’s. “After they died, me and Namjoon would come up here for Christmas, attempting to feel more like a family. It never did, we would just fight when we were up here, nonsensical arguments that drove a wedge between us. We kept trying though, until three years ago.”He remembers that, too. He would always see you and that guy, Namjoon, arguing on the deck, or you crying out by the tree swing. You stopped, unsure if you should continue. You chanced a glance at Yoongi, his dark eyes watching you with - it wasn’t pity - compassion? His gaze made you want to continue, worrying your bottom lip with your teeth. “I tried to drown myself three Christmas’ ago. In that damn lake.” 

Yoongi’s made an inaudible gasp, and he hoped beyond hope you didn’t notice. He wasn’t even sure why he was shocked, he connected the dots a few moments ago. He knew it was you. “YN. I - I,” he faltered. 

Not quite meeting his gaze yet, you muttered, “It’s fine Yoongi. Now that lake it like this stupid fucking metaphor for my life. I ebb and flow, just like the waters in that lake throughout the year. I have my ups and downs. Then, every Christmas, the lake freezes over. It’s always hard for me to get through this time of year, especially without Joon.” You felt a single tear roll down your already puffy cheeks. You sniffled slightly, rubbing your nose on the sleeve of your shirt with your free arm.

Yoongi stood up from his crouching position slowly, his grip on your hand still tight. He hesitantly took a seat next to you, holding your hand in his lap.  He could tell you were trying to scare him away, make him realise you were too broken to be fixed. He was determined to keep you talking, get all your baggage laid out on the table so he could assure you none of it mattered to him. “YN, what happened with Joon?” He whispered, close to your face. He didn’t want to risk you building that wall back up, even if he didn’t exactly want to hear the answer.

“He found me in the lake. Freezing, nearly dead.” Tears were rolling down your face now, and you felt Yoongi’s soft fingers rubbing soothing circles on your wrist. You looked up, gaze focused on the wall behind Yoongi. “Brought me to the hospital, checked me in, and left. I didn’t hear from him for a few months after that. When I finally did he texted me and told me that he didn’t think he could handle my ‘destructive behavior’, and offered to pay for my treatment”, you murmured that last part, voice faltering as you sucked in a shaky breath. “I haven’t seen him since that night, Yoongi.” At this, you finally looked into Yoongi’s eyes, your own crinkled in pain, tears freely falling down your face, and Yoongi’s heart broke. No. It shattered into a million tiny pieces. He barely knew you, but he wanted to do everything in his power to make you feel loved, wanted to show you that someone cared about you. You weren’t going to scare him away with your demons. 

Yoongi scooted a little closer to you on the couch, releasing your hand in the process, and gathered your shrunken form into his arms and hugged you close. A beat passed before you hugged back, uncertain if you should. But his warmth had you melting into him, you chest heaving with pitiful sobs. The hug was a little awkward, with you both sitting on the couch, so Yoongi brought his leg up and slotted it behind you, moving even closer to you. Yoongi’s ambiguous nature long gone as he rubbed a large hand up and down your back, pushing his face into your hair, shushing you. You sat there, in his embrace, for what felt like hours, but was realistically probably only 5 minutes. When your sobs started to slow down, Yoongi pulled back slightly, arms still wrapped firmly around you, looking you in the eye, “YN-” he started, but you cut him off before he could finish. 

With a small sniffle and watery eyes, you whispered, “I’m broken Yoongi. You shouldn’t be here, you shouldn’t want to be here. I only cause others pain.”

He seemed confused by your statement at first. His dark eyes searching your own for a second before he whispered, “I see you here, year after year. I can tell YN, I can see it. You’re broken by what happened, but you are not a broken person. You’re so beautiful honey, and from what I’ve seen of you tonight, you’re kind and worthy. Worthy of love, worthy of life, and worthy of happiness.” Your eyes started to well up with tears again and Yoongi gave you a sad smile, thumb reaching up and caressing your cheek to wipe them away. “I didn’t come up to your deck tonight because I thought you locked yourself out of your house. I came over because I’ve seen the torment in your eyes, and I’ve been there before. I don’t want you to feel like you have to go through this alone. I wanted to be here for you, regardless of how well I know you. Maybe I can get to know you in the process, b-but I want you to be ok, YN.” He softly whispered the last part softly, dark eyes starting to well with his own unshed tears.

“You barely know me Yoongi. Your words are sweet, but I’m not worthy. I’ve been drowning myself in liquor, killing myself with cigarettes, and pushing everyone in my life away for the last seven years. I’m a shit human.” You look down, hand reaching up to gently grasp Yoongi’s wrist, slowly pulling his hand from your face. The hurt in his eyes was hard to miss. 

“I barely know you, but yet I want to know more. Doesn’t that say something? You think you’re not worthy, but I’m right here, telling you I think you’re interesting, lovable, and funny. I want to get to know you.” He pulled his hand, ever so gently, away from your grasp, placing it on your lower back to pull you against his chest. “You matter YN.”

You let out another quiet sob into Yoongi’s flannel shirt, inhaling his soft citrus-y scent that has been a calming presence to you all night. “Promise me tomorrow, YN. Promise me you’ll stay tomorrow, talk to me, get to know me a little more,” he mumbled into your hair, “all I’m asking for is tomorrow.”

You thought to yourself for a moment. You could do that. You could promise one more day. Even if you had to suffer through it, at least Yoongi would be there with you. Inhaling a shaky breath, you gasped out an, “ok.”

Yoongi smiled to himself, a sad, small smile. He was happy you were going to give yourself a chance, even if it was under the guise of giving him a chance. He was determined to make you see life was worth living.

You woke up with a splitting headache. Was it from the copious amounts of alcohol you consumed yesterday, or from all the crying you did? You didn’t know. All you knew was the sunlight streaming in from your bedroom window was going to be the death of you. You let out a weak groan as you rolled over, pulling the soft duvet cover over your head. You didn’t want to get out of bed, but you knew you needed to get some water, or your headache was only going to get worse.

Throwing the covers off yourself, you slowly sat up in bed, rubbing the sleep from your eyes. You grabbed your phone from your bedside table, noting that it was December 22. Three more days until Christmas. As you looked at your phone, you noticed your arms were covered by a thick, wool like fabric. This wasn’t your pajamas, what were you wearing? You stood up and walked over to the floor length mirror on the back of your bedroom door, still littered with stickers from that time you and your friend Mina visited the cabin when you were 14. 

As you gazed at yourself in the mirror, the events of last night came rushing back to you. Yoongi. You were wearing his coat that he so kindly brought over to you last night while you were out on your deck. Yoongi sat with you while you cried into his shirt for an hour after you had spilled your life story to him, letting all your monsters out to play. You could see the remnants of your sobbing on your face, puffy eyes and tear stained cheeks. After you calmed down a bit, Yoongi wrapped you in his jacket and carried you to your bed, shaky and cold. He laid you down gently, pulling the covers over your sleepy form and whispered, “Tomorrow. I’ll be back tomorrow, and we’re going to get to know each other better” before he left. Too tired to speak, you rolled over and fell asleep. 

Your face heated with embarrassment. A man you hardly knew took care of you last night, carried you to your bed. This wasn’t like you. He hugged you last night! You haven’t had any human contact in nearly three years. The last person you hugged was your therapist at the rehab facility, and even that was awkward and a little forced. At the thought of him hugging you, you felt butterflies erupt in your stomach, remembering how you melted into his warm chest last night. You didn’t realize just how touch starved you’d become in the last few years, but the evidence was right there. Shaking off your humiliation, you shrugged off Yoongi’s jacket and rummaged through your suitcase for some clothes. Surely, you’d feel better after a shower and some breakfast. Right?

After rinsing the previous night from your skin, you dressed in some sweats and a t-shirt, not really bothering to do your hair. You didn’t plan on leaving the cabin today, at most you would sit out on the deck again. Heading back into your room, you hear a soft knock coming from your living room. At first you thought you were hearing things, until another knock, slightly louder, sounded through the cabin. 

As you made your way down the hallway and into the living room, you saw a smiling Yoongi through the sliding glass door standing on your back deck. His arms were full, with… what did he have? Bags? You rushed forward past the couches and unlocked and slid the door open.

“Good morning - er, I guess afternoon now?” Yoongi stuttered a little awkwardly, albeit friendly. He stumbled through your back door and made his way over to the kitchen island. You watched his back as he set down a couple of bags and a blanket on the marble countertop. You tilted your head at him as he turned around to face you. “I, um, I thought we could spend the day together if - if that’s ok with you?” he lilted his words at the end. 

You remember the promise you made to Yoongi last night as you stared at him, mouth agape. One more day. You promised him today. You were slightly surprised that Yoongi made good on his promise, half expecting him to bolt last night and never speak to you again after everything you unloaded on him, yet here he was, bright eyed and bushy tailed.

“What’s in the bags?” You questioned as you moved towards the kitchen, blinking dumbly at Yoongi. 

“Well, I noticed last night that you didn’t have much food in your fridge, mostly just liquor and soda,” your cheeks heated as he called you on your bad habits, “so I brought over some groceries. I thought we could make lunch and since it’s a little too cold outside, we could set up a picnic in the living room.” he offered, gesturing to the blanket sitting on your countertop. “If that’s ok with you, of course.” He sounded a little abashed, having not gotten your number last night, he wasn’t able to see if you were ok with all of this beforehand. He was taking a leap of faith here, hoping that you would take him up on his offer.

You smiled shyly at him, “that sounds really nice, Yoongi, thank you.” Not having a drop of alcohol in your system was making your normal, shy self emerge from the mask you usually wear, shrouded behind a layer of liquor. 

Yoongi offered you a gummy smile, showing off his perfect teeth. His smile was warm, inviting, much like his scent. You were slowly realizing that you quite enjoyed his company. Maybe a little more than you should have.

You and Yoongi had spent the afternoon cooking and chatting in your kitchen, making a stew from a recipe Yoongi had in one of his grandmother’s old cookbooks. You discovered that he was a natural in the kitchen, moving through the recipes with ease. He told you stories about how he used to come out here to visit his grandma and she would always cook with him in the very cabin he lived in now. He told you how he inherited it from her 8 years ago when she passed away, and how he quit his office job in Daegu to move out here and become a freelance writer. You admired his bravery, being able to leave his life behind and take a risk moving out here. Part of you wished you were able to take that jump, you truly loved this cabin, and most of the memories that came with it. 

Now, you and Yoongi were sitting on his blanket, in front of your fireplace, eating the stew the two of you made together. “So where are you from, YN?” Yoongi asked as he finished off his bowl, setting it down on the hardwood floor. 

“Busan,” you stated simply. “I still live there. I usually only make the trip out here for Christmas now. I used to come up during the summers, too, but haven’t in a while.”

“And what do you do, in Busan?” he asked, stretching his legs out and leaning back on his elbows, full focus on you.

“I work at an animal shelter. Nothing fancy. I tend to prefer the company of animals, rather than humans,” you offered somewhat abashedly. You were telling the truth. You had always wanted to become a veterinarian, ever since you could talk, really. But you just didn’t have the time, or the money to go to school, so you found the next best option.

“I definitely get that,” Yoongi agreed, “I have a calico cat at home. It gets lonely up here sometimes, and he helps keep me sane.” He smiled thinking about the furball he adopted a couple years ago, probably resting peacefully in his favorite sunbathing spot back at home. 

Your eyes lit up at the mention of a cat and Yoongi filed that away for later. “Really? What’s his name?”

Yoongi was more than happy to indulge in your sudden curiosity, happy he found something you’re actually interested in. “Mochi. He’s a male calico, I hear they’re pretty rare. I found him at the local shelter in town a couple years back. He’s a sweet little thing.”

Your conversation continued throughout the afternoon much the same. You told Yoongi about your dreams to become a vet that would probably never come to fruition, and in turn he told you about his previous job in Daegu as a marketing analyst. You shared with each other your big (and small) dreams and aspirations, discussed TV shows you both liked, and talked about different recipes you enjoy. 

You were actually enjoying yourself and spending time with Yoongi, something you really didn’t expect to happen when you were on the drive up here a few days ago. You haven’t really had a friend to talk to for a long time, your only close friend Mina having moved to the United States five years ago, you never really made the effort to make any new ones. Yoongi was nice, you thought to yourself as he talked more about his cat, you wouldn’t mind being friends with him. 

By dinner time you were both starting to get hungry again, so you suggested ordering take out while you both cleaned up the mess in the kitchen from earlier.  You called the chicken place you knew of in town, while Yoongi started loading the dishwasher. “Hey YN?” you heard from the kitchen.

“Yes?” You half shouted back, walking down the hallway towards Yoongi. 

“Where are your dish- oh nevermind, found them!” He shouted back as you walked into the kitchen. He stood up straight after shutting the dishwasher, sighing and wiping his hands down the front of his jeans. “Dishes are done, food is ordered. What do you say we watch some Christmas movies?” 

For the rest of the night, you and Yoongi sat in front of the TV, watching sappy Lifetime movies, eating chicken and drinking beer. It was probably the most fun you’ve had in quite a few years, and you were really thankful for his company. At the end of the night, you and Yoongi exchanged phone numbers with a promise that you would give Yoongi one more day, at least, to get to know you better. You agreed, and Yoongi left with one final gummy smile and wave of his hand. 

You sighed, rubbing your hand down the front of your face. Having Yoongi here was a great distraction, but now that he’s gone and you can hear the faint sound of Christmas music playing on the credits of some crappy movie, reality was starting to sink in. After these two weeks were over, you’d return to Busan, Yoongi-less, and have to resume your normal life again. A life you weren’t satisfied with. A life you knew you didn’t want to continue living. Being here made you feel like that life didn’t exist anymore, like you were almost, happy? But you knew that it would all be over soon and everything would hurt again. You didn’t want to let yourself get wrapped up in Yoongi because only bad things could come of it, but he was making it really, really hard. You could see yourself falling for Yoongi, allowing him to make you happy, but you couldn’t. You had way too much baggage, you would never be the happy go-lucky girl you were in your teens again. You would always live with this depression, with these demons. 

As you changed into your pajamas, you stared at yourself in the bathroom mirror. Your eyes were sunken in, your skin was pale, and your hair had seen better days. You knew you hadn’t been taking great care of yourself, but you didn’t think it had gotten this bad. What did Yoongi see in you anyways? Your life was a wreck and you looked like it, too. You sighed to yourself, running a brush through your hair. You promised Yoongi one more day, so you were going to make it through tomorrow, at least.

December 23. Two more days until Christmas. You woke up feeling a little lighter this morning after having spent yesterday with Yoongi, but you also had a weird feeling in the pit of your stomach. You’ve never really been one to believe in superstitions, but for some reason, you had a strong feeling something bad was going to happen soon. You tried to shake off the feeling. You had woken up early this morning, just before sunrise and decided to take a steaming shower.

After your shower, you got dressed in comfy clothes and decided to sit out on the deck and smoke for a bit. It was still early in the morning, the sun still on the horizon. It really was beautiful out here. You had the perfect view of the lake from your deck. It faced towards the east, giving you a gorgeous view of the sunset just above the frozen lake. The colors of the sky were so pretty this time of day, oranges mixing with pretty pinks, you felt like you were on set for a romance movie. 

There was a low fog rolling onto the embankment from the frozen lake. It almost looked like dry ice, white billows of smoke swirling in the slight morning breeze. Admiring the landscape, you took a cigarette out of your pack, and slid your lighter out of your pocket. The sun was just barely starting to pass over the mountains in the east. You shivered a little as you lit up your cigarette, taking a deep inhale of smoke. You instantly felt at ease, the weird feeling from earlier dissipating with the sharp exhale of smoke. 

Yoongi hadn’t gone to sleep yet, and was typing on his laptop, Mochi in his lap, on his sofa. He spent a majority of the day over at your cabin yesterday and spent all night trying to get caught up with work. As a freelance writer, he made his own hours, but he wanted to make sure he was going to meet his next deadline, coming up in a few weeks. 

He gently closed his laptop and stretched his arms up into the air, cracking a few joints in the process. The noise startled Mochi and he shot up out of Yoongi’s lap, across the kitchen floor. “Sorry, buddy,” Yoongi mumbled, sleep thick in his voice. He watched as Mochi slid across the linoleum and jumped up onto the window sill above the sink. Yoongi looked out of the window curiously, eyes catching on a figure. He stood up from his spot on the sofa slowly, making his way towards the window, mindful of Mochi this time.

From his kitchen window, Yoongi had a perfect view of you standing on your deck smoking a cigarette. He watched as you took a deep inhale every couple of minutes and exhaled white swirls of smoke through your nose. The sun was just beginning to rise and the light was catching beautifully on the planes of your face. Yoongi took a moment to admire you, since he hasn’t really had the chance before. You were always intently watching him, waiting for his next move, almost like you were afraid he would leave, never quite giving in to his friendship.

The light shone over your features beautifully, highlighting your sharp cheekbones and sunken in eyes. Yoongi noticed you looked a little thin, he wasn’t sure if that had to do with heredity or something more sinister, but he tried not to dwell on it. Long eyelashes flutter over your cheeks everytime you close your eyes, basking in the sunlight. Your fingers, long and slender, held the cigarette so delicately. You seemed so gentle, so ethereal, he wonders why the world had to be so cruel to you. What did you do to deserve the foul things that have happened to you? Nothing, you didn’t do anything. You were just delt a bad hand at life. 

He watched as your long hair fluttered around your face in the breeze. It looks like you just washed it, he thought, you must be cold in the crisp morning air. With one last exhale of smoke, you put your cigarette out on the railing of your deck. Yoongi smirked to himself when he saw the small pout form on your lips. How could someone be so beautiful, yet so broken? Yoongi wasn’t sure why he felt this strong urge to protect you, to prevent any further harm coming to you, but he knew that he would do everything in his power to make sure you felt cared for. He was drawn to you, in a way he has never been drawn to another person. It both scared and excited him and sent butterflies through his stomach. He took one last glance at you through the window and decided it would be best if he got some rest before trekking back over to your cabin later. 

The rest of your morning went by relatively smoothly, having made breakfast after coming inside from your morning smoke. You cooked yourself some eggs and toast and then decided to check some emails on your laptop you brought with you. You saw a couple of emails from your boss, asking about adoption paperwork that he couldn’t find on your desk. You emailed him back quickly with the forms you had stored in your files, before powering off your computer, done with work for now. You moved the laptop from the top of your thighs to the nightstand next to your bed and leaned back against the headboard. You folded your arms behind your head and glanced around the room, taking in your childhood surroundings. 

The walls of your bedroom were still a pastel pink color with sponged on white clouds reaching up to the ceiling. You had a vivid memory of helping your mom paint the clouds when you were 8 years old. She would laugh at you everytime you would pout because the cloud didn’t come out exactly how you wanted it to. 

Across from your full size bed, was a white dresser with claw feet that still contained some old summer clothes from when you would visit during your breaks from school, probably a few sizes too small now. Along the side of the dresser and the white full length mirror on the back of your door, were stickers from your favorite bands when you were a teenager. You and Mina had collected them throughout the school year and would stick them on when you arrived for the summer. You smiled at the memories this room brought back. This was the reason you kept returning here every year, you tell yourself. To remember the times when you were happy and loved life. 

You let out a deep sigh and sunk back onto your mattress further, eyes feeling droopy. When your head hit the soft pillow, you stared up at the ceiling, still white because your mom said painting the ceiling pink would have made the room feel claustrophobic. There were still little pieces of sticky tape stuck to the stucco from when you had plastered glow in the dark stars and planets all over the ceiling, long since gone now. You never updated anything in the house, bought new furniture, or moved anything around. It would feel wrong, you thought. It wouldn’t feel like home anymore if you made changes. 

You hadn’t even entered the master bedroom, where your parents slept, since they passed. You know that Namjoon has, having gone through some of their belongings in the years since their death, but you never could bring yourself to do it. Joon had also gone through his childhood things in his room, just across the hall from you, taking what he cared for back to Seoul with him. You wondered what was left in there, too tired to actually get up and check. As you reminisced on your cabin, sleep began to take over, and eventually you fell asleep to the slow hum of the heater.

You sat up straight in bed, clutching your shirt, breathing heavy. What was that noise? Ding ding. You let out a breath of relief. It’s just the doorbell. You swung your legs over the edge of the bed, briefly glancing at the clock on your side table. 4:03 pm. How long did you sleep?

As you got up to answer the door you caught your reflection in the mirror, straightening your bed head out a little. As you made your way to the front of the house, you heard soft knocking on the door. “Coming, coming!” you yelled out to whoever was on the other side. When you arrived at the front door, you looked out the glass pane next the door, finding Yoongi standing there on your front porch. He was holding a - duffle bag? You squint your eyes in confusion, but open the door anyways. 

“Hi YN!” Yoongi starts, before taking in your appearance. You were wearing what looked to be pajama shorts and an oversized white t-shirt. “I’m sorry, did I wake you up?” He looked a little sheepish, running his hair through his blonde locks.

“A-ah, yeah, but it’s ok! I really shouldn’t have slept this long anyway,” you trailed off, opening the door a little wider and motioning for Yoongi to come in. “What’s that?” You asked, pointing at the black bag clutched in his hand.

“Oh, well…” he starts, coming all the way through the entryway and toeing his shoes off next to yours, he assumed. “Since the forecast says it’s supposed to snow, I brought some board games and some movies,” he seemed a little unsure, wary that you were going to tell him you didn’t want to hang out, or something. You smiled at him to ease his worries.

“I love board games,” you began, walking off towards your kitchen, Yoongi trailing behind you. “I haven’t really played any in years though,” you falter, “I’m not sure I’ll be any good.”

Yoongi gave you the gentlest smile you’ve seen from a man, making you melt a little more. What was this guy doing to you? “Don’t worry, I’m not the competitive type anyways.” He gave you a little wink, making you giggle. Yoongi’s eyes shot up to yours, a gummy smile spreading across his handsome face. The tinkling sound of your laugh made his inside heat up. He absolutely adored the sound. 

The two of you ended up ordering take out again, Yoongi insisting on paying this time, and sat on your couches with games and snacks spread out on the coffee table. You guys had already played a couple rounds of Scrabble, and one round of Scattergories and now you were leaning back enjoying the pizza Yoongi had ordered. Just like Yoongi had predicted, it started snowing around 6 o’clock and has been for the last hour or so. 

“You’re telling me you lived your whole life never having a pet?!” You laughed, hand covering your mouth still full of pizza.

“Nope. My parents never let me have a pet growing up and when I was old enough to move out I was just too busy to take care of one. A few years ago when I was feeling lonely, I decided to give it a go.”

You couldn’t imagine a life without pets. Growing up your family always had dogs or cats around, one time even adopting a pet hamster. You haven’t had pets in a few years, but you’re around them all the time due to work. 

“I love Mochi, though. I couldn’t imagine my life without him in it now.” He smiled fondly, talking about his beloved cat. “What about you, any pets back home?”

“Ah, no. I don’t have the time anymore. But it’s ok because I spend most of my time with them at work.” As much as you hated the people you worked with, you absolutely adored the animals. You didn’t think you could ever work in a profession that didn’t allow you to work with animals, it just wouldn’t make sense to you. 

Yoongi smiled at you, damn that smile was making you seriously weak. “I’d love to introduce you to Mochi while you’re here, if you’d like.” 

“I would love that.”

“Would you like to come over for dinner tomorrow? It’ll be Christmas Eve, I can cook something for us, and you can hangout with Mochi. I’m sure he’d love the company, I’m usually pretty boring.” He laughed. 

“I -” you hesitated. Why were you hesitating? You really liked Yoongi. You liked him so much that you even forgot about your promise to him about ‘one more day’. You were enjoying the time you spent with him so much that thoughts about your parents, Namjoon, and your demons we’re at the back of your mind when you were with him. You mean, you’ve literally only smoked two cigarettes today, that has to be some sort of record for you. So why were you hesitating?You knew why, you didn’t want Yoongi to get too attached. Who were you kidding, you didn’t want to get too attached. You’d be leaving soon and it would only hurt you more in the long run. Yoongi was staring at you, a hopeful look in his eyes. “I’m not sure that’s a great idea, Yoongi.”

The crestfallen look on Yoongi’s face made you want to immediately take back your words, but he beat you to it. “Can I ask you why you think that?” He was much bolder than when you met a couple of days ago, you noted. 

You wrung your hands together in your lap, having finished your slice of pizza a few minutes ago. “I just don’t want to make this harder than it already is,” you trailed off, eyes fixated on a loose thread on the rug beneath the coffee table, “I have to go back home in a week, and like I told you a couple of days ago, I’m not sure if I even want to live that life anymore.” You whispered the last part, biting on the inside of your cheek. 

Yoongi’s eyes softened. He realized it wasn’t about him, but about you and how you didn’t want to hurt him. He knew you were too kind for your own good. “YN. It’s just dinner. And who says we can’t still be friends when you do go back home?” he added extra emphasis to the word do, making sure to not leave an ‘if’ in that sentence. He’s going to make sure you make it back home in one piece if it’s the last thing he does. 

You knew what Yoongi was trying to do, and you really did appreciate it. You also really enjoyed his company, so you thought, fuck it. “Ok” you whispered out softly, finally meeting Yoongi’s eyes. 

“Ok? Does that mean you’ll have dinner with me tomorrow night?”

“Yes. I’ll have dinner with you. On one condition” you acquiesced, a soft smirk on your face.

Yoongi’s eyebrows shot up, disappearing under his blonde fringe. “Anything” he breathed out, a little too quickly for his liking.

“I get to cuddle with your cat all night. I really miss the animals.”

Yoongi tried, and failed, to hide a huge grin. “Deal.”

Last night, after you agreed to have dinner with Yoongi, you played a few more board games, kicking his ass in Monopoly a couple of times, before you said your goodbyes. Yoongi left the board games at your house, reasoning that he would definitely be back over to avenge himself in Monopoly. You giggled at him as you waved goodbye with the promise of dinner.

It was now 1 o’clock in the afternoon on Christmas Eve, and you were starting to panic. Christmas Eve was a hard day for you to get through, considering the memories you have of this day. Not only that, but you still couldn’t shake that odd feeling that you had when you woke up yesterday. However, today is even more panic-inducing because you are about to have dinner with your cute neighbor, who you may or may not have a slight (read: huge) crush on. 

You spent a majority of your morning sulking around your cabin, taking more than a few smoke breaks on the deck, and cleaning the kitchen and living room up in your anxiety driven state. Now, with nothing left to tidy up, you decide to start getting ready for dinner. 

After taking a long, hot shower, you dried and styled your hair, put just enough makeup on to cover your dark bags and sallow skin, and ventured to your room to rummage through your suitcase in order to find something appropriate to wear. You didn’t bring much with you on this trip besides sweatpants and pajamas. It’s not like you would’ve gone anywhere other than the corner store for more cigarettes had you not met Yoongi. You eventually decide on a dark pair of jeans that you luckily decided to throw in your suitcase last minute, and an old band t-shirt. You honestly didn’t have much else, and you were hoping Yoongi understood (he did) you didn’t really plan on seeing anyone these couple of weeks. 

A little after four in the afternoon, your anxiety started to build up even more. You were anxiously awaiting Yoongi’s text to head over to his place, and decided that it was a great time for a smoke. You grabbed Yoongi’s coat that was draped over your vanity chair, your pack of cigarettes, and your lighter, and headed out towards the deck. You had been so wrapped up in making yourself look presentable, that you had mostly forgotten what day it was, and the dread you usually felt about it. It was nice in a way, but now, sitting out here on your deck, staring out at that damned lake, you couldn’t help but remember why it was you started smoking these stupid cigarettes in the first place. 

“YN?” you heard someone call, distant, yet still close? You were confused, you couldn’t open your eyes. Why couldn’t you open your eyes? “YN, can you hear me?” Namjoon? Namjoon! You thought to yourself. Why couldn’t he hear you!?

For a moment, your eyes fluttered open. You saw Namjoon, hovering above you. But there was someone else next to him. They were wearing a uniform. A cop? No. They were wearing latex gloves and holding what looked like an IV bag.  “YN!” You heard Namjoon yell again. You desperately wanted to answer him, but your voice wouldn’t come through. You blinked a few times, before everything faded to black again. That was the last memory you had of your brother. 

Your cell phone dinged in your pocket, startling you back into the present. You looked at the cigarette in your hand, nearly burned to the butt and you haven’t taken a single drag. Quickly, you brought it up to your lips and inhaled before pulling your phone out of Yoongi’s coat. 

From Yoongi [4:33 pm]: dinner will be ready in 20, want to head over?

You glanced over to Yoongi’s house, briefly looking through the only window that had the curtains drawn. You didn’t see any movement. Had he seen you out here smoking again? You looked back at your phone, taking another drag from the cigarette, before typing out your reply. 

From You [4:35 pm]: ya, be right over

You pocketed your phone and put your cigarette out, tossing the butt into the trash can on your way back inside. You locked the sliding glass door before heading to your room to spray some perfume. You didn’t want to go over to Yoongi’s smelling like smoke. Before you left, you grabbed your keys, double checked the doors were locked, and walked the short distance between the two houses. 

Before you knocked, you took in the state of Yoongi’s home. It was quant, smaller than your parent’s cabin, painted white with forest green window sills and roof tiles. You noticed there were planter boxes under his front windows, but no plants to be found. Hung on his front door was a cute Christmas wreath, plain with pretty burgundy poinsettias on it. You smiled to yourself, happy to see some form of Christmas decorations, not having put any of your own out. You’ve really forgotten how much you used to love Christmas. You loved the decorations, the food, the movies, but you’ve really forgotten what it was like to feel that holiday cheer. Having Yoongi in your life, even for these few days, has really helped you see what you’ve been missing out on.

Before you could even lift your hand to knock on the dark green door, it was opening to reveal a giddy looking Yoongi. You took a moment to drink him in, in all his glory. He was wearing some dark jeans, much like you, and a plain black t-shirt. You idly wondered if he didn’t dress up on purpose to spare you the embarrassment of not having nice clothes. His blonde hair, usually a disheveled mess, was combed out and surprisingly shiny, despite what looked like excessive bleaching. The moment he saw that you were wearing his coat, a huge gummy grin took over his face, causing his cat-like eyes to scrunch in happiness. The look on his face made butterflies erupt in your stomach, as you mirrored his grin.

“Hi,” he said shyly, still smiling.

“Hi yourself,” you breathed, “thank you for having me over.”

He waved away your thanks, moving aside and gesturing for you to come in. “Don’t mention it, really. The pleasure is all mine.” You don’t know the weight those words hold, but he means it, you can tell. 

As you walked through the entryway of his home, you pulled off your shoes, setting them on the neatly organized shoe rack next to his front door. Moving through to his living room, you noticed how well organized his entire house was. There was a pristine looking cover over his sofa which also housed a couple of blankets and throw pillows. On his coffee table were a few books and what looked like photo albums. As you took in your surroundings, Yoongi watched you curiously, one eyebrow cocked. You didn’t know what you were expecting, but you weren’t expecting him to be so… clean?

“I like to keep things organized, sometimes it can be a bad habit of mine,” he trailed off, looking around his neat space, “dinner is almost done. Do you want something to drink?”

“Yes, please.” You sighed in relief. You were pacified at the thought of having a glass of something to help lessen your nerves. You only knew Yoongi for the past three days, but for some reason, this almost felt like a first date. God, when was the last time you went on a date? It had to have been at least 5 years ago. The thought alone made your anxiety flare up tenfold. 

“I have both white and red wine, soda and different types of tea…” you were still standing awkwardly, hands clasped in front of you looking almost like you were afraid to move further into his house. Yoongi walked up to you, gently taking your hand in his, causing your eyes to snap up, meeting his own. “Hey, it’s ok,” he smiled gently at you, “come on, I’ll get us those drinks.” 

He led you into his kitchen which had his dining room attached, a small four person wooden table sitting near a bay window. It was cozy, you thought, somewhere you would like to retire too. Now, that wasn’t a thought you’d had in a long time. You never wondered about growing old, surprise you even made it this far. 

Yoongi let go of your hand to reach into a cabinet by his sink. “Wine ok?” he asked, sensing the tension in your body. 

“Y-yes. Red, please.” You weren’t sure why you were being so shy and awkward, you’ve spent the last couple of days getting to know Yoongi, pretty well you might add. You think it’s partly to do with what day it is, as Christmas Eve always puts you a little more on edge, and a little more flighty. Yoongi quietly pours two glasses of red wine, passing one to you politely. You murmur a thank you before taking a sip.

Yoongi watched you as you sipped your wine, looking around his kitchen curiously. He could sense your anxiety, it was rolling off of you in waves. He didn’t want this to be awkward, he wanted to make sure you had a good night, and wanted to take your mind off of things for a while. “Want to meet Mochi?” he asked, hopeful it would shift your mood a little. 

Your eyes lit up at the mention of the cat, and were quickly nodding your head. Yoongi walked away down the hallway, returning moments later with a petite framed calico cat in his arms. You internally chuckled at the resemblance they shared in their small statures. “He’s a little shy, but if you give him some time, he’ll warm up to you” Yoongi smiled at you, leading you over to his couch, sitting down with Mochi in his lap. Slowly, you sat down, not wanting to scare the creature, and sat your wine glass on a wooden coaster on the coffee table. 

Immediately upon sitting, Mochi hopped off Yoongi’s lap and right into yours. You let out a small, shocked gasp as the cat started kneading into your thighs, making himself comfortable. Yoongi’s eyes widened as they met you. “H-he never does that. It usually takes him a while to warm up to people. In fact, the first time my friend Jungkook came over, he nearly lost an eye to him.” He chuckled lowly at the memory. 

“Animals usually like me,” you said softly, bringing your hand up to run through Mochi’s fur. It was long, and extremely fluffy, “I think they know how much I adore them.” Yoongi watched on as you smiled down at his now purring cat in your lap. For a brief moment, he wondered what it would be like to adopt another cat with you, or maybe even a dog, before lightly shaking his head and rising from the couch. 

“I’m gonna check on dinner, it should be done soon. You’ll probably be… occupied, until then.” Yoongi gave you a soft smile, which you returned, before walking off into the kitchen. You leaned back into the soft fabric of the couch, absentmindedly running your hand over Mochi. 

You could hear the clinking of dishes coming from the kitchen as you loved on Mochi. Whatever Yoongi was cooking smelled absolutely delicious and was making your mouth water. You had only eaten breakfast today, and were on the verge of starving. On top of that, you haven’t had a Christmas meal in ages. You were actually starting to get excited about having dinner with Yoongi, and you had this purring love bug in your lap, and your glass of wine, to thank. 

“It’s ready!” Yoongi called from the kitchen, scaring the sleeping cat, causing him to jump up and run off towards the kitchen. “Oh you scaredy cat” Yoongi grumbled as Mochi slid past him on the floor. You chuckled as you got up from the couch and headed towards the dining table. Upon seeing what Yoongi had laid out on the table, your eyes widened and you let out a breathy gasp. 

“You made all this?!” You questioned incredulously. 

“U-uh, yeah? I told you, I used to cook with my grandma. We always made Christmas dinners together,” he ran his hand through his, now messy, locks, “I still try and cook as much as I can, I actually enjoy it.” He looked away, blush rising to his cheeks.

You looked at all the different assortments of food Yoongi had prepared. There was a large skillet that contained beef bulgogi, and smaller dishes that housed kimchi, steamed eggs, japchae, and steamed rice. “It looks amazing, Yoongi!” You exclaimed, a genuine smile on your face. 

“Well let’s not stare at it all night. Let’s eat!”

You and Yoongi ate your meal, laughing at each other’s odd Christmas stories. You both had another glass of wine, feeling looser as the night went on. Mochi sat close to his owner, tail flicking idly, waiting for scraps of food to be accidentally flung from chopsticks during conversation. According to Yoongi, the cat loved eggs, a trait he found both odd and endearing. You were so enthralled in conversation with Yoongi, you barely registered that the food was nearly gone, two glasses of wine downed, and it was nearing midnight. Sparing a glance at the oven clock, you realized just how late it was getting.  “Do you mind,” you started, before hesitating, unsure if you wanted to ask. 

“What is it, YN?” Yoongi encouraged you. He was so kind, always observant, sensing when you needed a little push.

“Would you mind if I went out back to smoke?” You looked away, rubbing your hand up and down your arm, embarrassed that you were about to bring your conversation to and end just because you needed to smoke. Nasty habit, you knew you should quit, but it was hard.

“Oh, of course! Sorry, I didn’t realize it was getting so late,” he started, getting up from his seat and grabbing dishes, “want me to join you? I can deal with the mess later.”

You grabbed your own plate, following him to the sink and setting it down gently. “Yeah, I think I’d like that.” You smile at Yoongi, happy for the company.

Yoongi didn’t have a deck like you, but he had a nice yard with tall, green grass. Right off his dining room was a sliding glass door that led to a small concrete patio that was furnished with a couple patio chairs and a fire pit. His land went straight back, down to the lake, just like yours. The only thing separating your properties was a line of shrubs and trees. Yoongi was busying himself with the fire pit as you sat in one of the chairs. You opened your pack of cigarettes, noticing you only had one left, mentally nothing you’d had to run down to the store to grab more. 

As you lit your cigarette, Yoongi was lighting a small fire with the firewood he kept by the backdoor. It was a small one, but it was enough to keep you warm in the freezing weather. Instead of sitting down in the chair across from you, like you expected him to, Yoongi stood in front of you and held his hand out. For a moment, you were confused, until you realized he wanted you to take his outstretched hand. You complied, placing your free hand in his, turning your head to blow out your previous inhale of smoke. 

Yoongi gave you a gentle tug, indicating he wanted you to stand up. As you stood, Yoongi maneuvered himself behind you, so you were standing directly in front of the fire, as he shakily wrapped his arms around your middle. The feeling of his hands on your waist was doing things to you in your alcohol hazed state. 

“Is this ok?” he asked quietly, lips close to your ear and he set his chin on your shoulder. You nodded slightly, feeling almost dizzy from whatever this feeling was that Yoongi was causing. You could feel his warm breath on your neck as you took another drag from your cigarette. 

“Does the smoke not bother you?” you asked, a little forced, holding the smoke in your lungs. 

“I just want to be close to you,” he whispers, “YN, I like you.” 

You giggled at his comment, releasing the smoke from your chest. “I like you too, Yoongi.”

“No, YN, I mean I really, really like you.”

To say you were surprised by his sudden confession would be an understatement. You took a sharp inhale of breath, nearly choking on the cold air, and not because of your cigarette, before Yoongi began again, “I’m sorry if it’s sudden, or if it’s not what you want to hear right now, but I really need you to know that I enjoy spending time with you, and would love the opportunity to get to know you better, if you’ll allow me.” You tossed the butt of your cigarette into the fire pit and hesitantly turned around in Yoongi’s arms. 

Your arms snaked around his shoulder, criss-crossing behind his neck. “You wouldn’t be saying that if you knew the things that go on in my head.” The wine was making you bold, making you want to tell Yoongi exactly how you felt. “I’m afraid if you get to know me, you wont like what you find.”

Yoongi sighed, looking deep into your eyes that have long since lost their sparkle. “I can’t promise you much, YN. I’m a freelance writer who lives in the middle of nowhere. But what I can promise you, is that whatever I find in you, wont send me running. I know what I’ve already found in you - you’re a sweet, compassionate girl, who in just three days has me falling head over heels,” he breathed, inches away from your face, “I’ve never met anyone like you, YN.” Yoongi brought his hand from your waist up to your face, ever so gently gracing the back of his fingers against your sharp cheekbone. 

You leaned into his touch, not remembering what it was like to be cared for in such a gentle manner. “Yoongi, I-” you weren’t sure what you wanted to say. You wanted so badly to give in to his sweet words, to let him in and break down your walls for him. You were scared, terrified even, of what that meant. He would learn all about your dark past, your demons, the monsters that threatened to take you down. A silent tear trailed down your cheek because of your internal battle. 

Yoongi was quick to swipe it away with his thumb. “You don’t have to say anything back, YN,” his voice barely a whisper, like if he spoke too loud you’d blow away in the cold breeze, “Just promise me one thing?” You made a sound of confirmation, “One more day.”

At that, you broke down in Yoongi’s strong arms. Your face pushed into his firm chest, tears flowing freely. Sobs wracked your chest and Yoongi held you, rubbing a hand up and down your back. You weren’t sure, but you think you feel Yoongi’s chest rising and falling in a rhythm that made it seem like he was crying with you. You didn’t want to chance a look at him, worried it would break you further. You stood there for what felt like an eternity before you calmed enough to pull back from Yoongi, hands unclasping from behind his back and coming around to fist in his shirt. “Thank you, Yoongi. Thank you.” You let out a couple more weak sobs, before hugging him as tightly as you could. You didn’t need to explain, Yoongi understood.

You and Yoongi stayed wrapped up in each other's arms for the better part of the night, having moved inside to the couch, before you were getting too tired to keep your eyes open. Yoongi was laying against the back of the couch, you slotted in front of him with his arms around your chest, holding you tightly to him. You let out a small yawn, making Yoongi smile to himself. “Tired, love?” 

You let out another yawn, bringing your hand up to rub your eyes. “Yeah,” you sighed, “I should probably get going.” You really didn’t want to leave, but you knew you should. You would feel a lot better in the morning if you slept in your own bed, not on this too small couch. 

“I’ll walk you home,” Yoongi offered, standing up from the couch, pulling you with him. You moved to take off his coat before he stopped you with a gentle hand on your shoulder, “Keep it. It looks better on you anyway.” He smiled down at you, running his hand from your shoulder, down your arm, taking your hand in his. 

You smiled up at the slightly taller man, blushing profusely. You followed Yoongi through his home, toeing on your shoes at the front door, hands still intertwined. As promised, Yoongi walked you to your front porch, waiting until you had entered your house and locked the door before walking back to his own home. Once inside, you leaned your back against the door, head tilting until it hit the glass window pane in the middle of it. You sighed to yourself, feeling lighter than you have in probably years. You weren’t used to this feeling, and on Christmas Eve of all days. Well… You guessed it was probably Christmas now, with how long you spent laying on Yoongi’s couch. With that thought in mind, you pulled your phone out from Yoongi’s coat pocket to check the time. Before you could even register the time, you were stopping in your tracks as what greeted you on your phone screen. When was the last time you checked your phone? You’d been so wrapped up in Yoongi you don’t recall looking at it all night.

On your lock screen, you saw a missed call. Several, actually. From Namjoon. 

Your heart stuttered in your chest. Why was he calling you? You haven’t spoken to him in nearly three years. There was no reason for him to be calling you, unless there was some kind of emergency, right? Panicking, you walked further into the cabin, not bothering to take off the coat or your shoes. You sped walked right into your bedroom, eyes glued to your phone the entire time. Should you call him back? You weren’t sure if you wanted to speak to him right now, especially after the wonderful night you had with Yoongi. But - what if he was calling to apologize, to make things right? You had to find out.

As you unlocked your phone, you saw the notification for a new voicemail. Hesitantly, you opened your calls app, and clicked on the message from Namjoon. You saw it was only about a minute long. Curiosity getting the best of you, you played the message:

“Y-YN? YN! W-what are you doing baby sister?” you could tell he was drunk from the way he was slurring his words, panic immediately rising in your chest. “Are you at mom and dad’s cabin? Yo-you always did love it there, didn’t you? Loved it so much you even tried ending your own life there!” A sharp laugh came from the phone, causing you to pull it away from your ear for a second. “You know YN, I wish you- you did. I wish I never pulled you out of th-that fucking lake. Then m-maybe I wouldn’t have to relive that God damn nigh-nightmare every fucking n-night YN,” you didn’t want to listen anymore to this anymore, you shut your eyes tight,hot tears welling up behind your eyelids, “G-go be with mom and dad, it’s what you want right?! I just-” the line cut off, ending the voicemail. You stumbled backwards, back hitting your bedroom door. You couldn’t see, lights still off, not having bothered with them when you burst in the room. Stunned, you still had the phone to your ear, other hand coming up to push at your eyes, willing the tears to stop forming. You slid down the back of your bedroom door, finally letting go of your phone, causing it to clatter down to the wood floor. Your breathing was ragged, eyes still glued shut in pain. Panic. You were panicking. You haven’t had a panic attack in a couple of years, but you knew the signs. You hugged your knees to your chest and fell over on your side, sobbing into your forearms. 

Is that how Namjoon, your own brother, really felt all these years? He wished he never saved your life? It shouldn’t be surprising to you, the last memory you have of him is in the back of an ambulance, grief written all over his face. That was the last time you saw him, until he texted you months later after countless missed calls, texts, and emails from you. He told you that you needed help, and that he needed to distance himself from you. Did your actions take such a huge toll on his life, that he wished you were no longer on this planet? 

You aren’t sure how long you laid on your bedroom floor, sobbing, but it must have been hours. By the time you finally pulled yourself up, you could see the beginnings of morning shining through your window. 

You needed to smoke, or drink heavily, or do something to ease this pain. You remembered briefly that you were out of cigarettes, not willing to drive yourself to the store to buy more. Drinking seemed like it would only worsen your pain right now, so you pulled yourself over to your suitcase, tossing it open on your bed. After a few moments of rifling through your things, you found what you were looking for, before heading off into your bathroom.

It was Christmas day. Yoongi hasn’t been excited for Christmas since he was a teenager, and his mother was still around to make the holidays special. He hasn’t done much for Christmas since he moved out here. Every once in a while, Jungkook would invite him over for Christmas dinner with his wife a couple towns over, but she was pregnant this year and Yoongi didn’t want to intrude. 

Yoongi was actually excited for Christmas today. Sure, he didn’t have a tree, or presents to give, but he had someone to spend it with. Someone special, which was saying a lot for a recluse like him. 

It was early, an ungodly hour according to Yoongi on a normal day, but today was different. As he got out of bed, he startled Mochi who shot across the floor, out his bedroom door. He smiled to himself and shook his head lightly. Such a scaredy cat, he thought to himself. Yoongi planned on making some Christmas cookies, or maybe a rice cake for today, before heading over to your house to spend the day with you. After his late night confession yesterday, Yoongi was feeling bolder than ever when it came to you, and decided to shoot you a quick text to let you know he was thinking about you.

To YN [7:37 am]: good morning, love

To YN [7:37 am]: I hope it’s ok if I come over in a bit

To YN [7:38 am]: I want to let you sleep in a little longer, but I can’t wait to see you

He pocketed his phone, satisfied with his texts, for now. He assumed you were still sleeping since you were at his last night until well after midnight. 

As the morning went on, Yoongi whipped up a traditional rice cake with fruits, another recipe from his grandmother’s cookbook, something she always made for his family at Christmas. By the time he was done with the cake, it was nearing nine in the morning, and he was starting to worry slightly that you haven't texted him back. He usually saw you out on your deck having a morning smoke by now, and he had definitely been sneaking glances out his kitchen window to try and catch a glimpse of you. He didn’t see you all morning, which was causing a slight panic to arise in his chest. 

By 9:15, Yoongi couldn’t contain his panic anymore. Something was wrong. He could feel it. You should be awake by now. You always came out for a cigarette by now. Pulling on a coat, Yoongi put on his slippers, rice cake long forgotten, as he trudged over to your front door.

He knocked gently at first, not wanting to startle you if you indeed were just sleeping in. No response. This time, Yoongi wrapped on the door a little harder, making enough noise to wake you up without a doubt. He waited a couple of minutes before the feeling in his chest dropped to his stomach. He felt sick. This isn’t right. 

Yoongi walked around the front of your house to peer into your bedroom window. He vaguely remembered the location of it from when he carried you in there the first night you met. He put his hands up to the glass and attached his face to his fingers, looking into your room. He didn’t see you, but what he did see worried him even more. Your bedroom door was wide open and your suitcase was open on your bed. He glanced at the driveway to confirm your car was indeed still there before he ran around to your back deck. Yoongi was in full panic mode now, seconds away from breaking a window. When he got to your sliding glass door, he attempted to open it, and to his surprise it slid right open. He would have to give you a lecture about locking your doors after he made sure you were ok.

“YN?” he called out, slightly louder than he meant, “YN? Love? Are you in here?” Yoongi walked through your living room hesitantly, almost scared of what he might find. He didn’t see any sign of you, so he trudged down the hallway leading to your bedroom. “YN!?” His voice was starting to become panicked the longer he couldn’t find you. “YN please,” he sighed out, realizing wherever you were you probably weren’t hearing him. He peeked into your room one more time to make sure you really weren’t in there. He didn’t find you, but what he did find was your cellphone, laying on the floor with a cracked screen. Yoongi tilted his head as he knelt down to pick the phone up. It lit up with the movement, showing him the missed texts from himself, and missed calls from… Namjoon? Oh no. “No. No, no, no” Yoongi whispered to himself. This couldn't be good. He pocketed your phone, making his way further down the hallway. He saw light coming from underneath one of the closed doors and immediately started banging on it. “YN!? YN are you in there? Please love, open the door!” Yoongi tried turning the door handle, unsurprised when he found it locked. “YN I will break this door down!” He threatened, terrified beyond belief at what he would find when he did.

With one sharp inhale of air, Yoongi grabbed onto the door handle and shoved his shoulder into the door. Once, twice, and on the third hit it popped open, breaking the doorframe in the process. Yoongi ignored the stinging pain in his shoulder as soon as he saw your prone form on the bathroom floor, empty pill bottle in the sink. The air left Yoongi’s lungs as he knelt down next to your head, gently cradling your head in his hands, setting it in his lap. “YN?! No, no! YN!” He was frantically trying to get his phone out of his pocket and unlocked. “YN, honey, please. Please wake up, please. YN you promised. You promised me YN!” his cries were frantic, tears streaming down his face, “You promised me! Please YN!” he begged you to wake up, to be alive, terrified he would never see your eyes light up or your beautiful smile again. Hot tears streamed onto his phone as he dialed for emergency services.

Yoongi sat in the waiting area of the emergency room, speaking quietly into the phone, fingers playing with a frayed edge of this t-shirt. “I don’t know, Jungkook, they won't tell me anything.” He hadn’t stopped crying since he found you on your bathroom floor, now just letting silent tears roll down his cheeks.

“You’re telling me, you met some girl four days ago, have been spending all your time with her, and you find her, half alive on her bathroom floor? What kind of mess are you getting yourself into Yoongi? You’ve never been the type to take an interest in girls, much less ones you barely know!” Jungkook half-yelled through the phone. Yoongi understood why Jungkook was worried, he really did, but he was just looking for some kind of anchor right now to keep him grounded.

“JK, please,” Yoongi barely whimpered into the phone, lip trembling, “I l- I don’t want to lose her.” He wasn’t ready to say the words yet, not when he wasn’t sure if you were even going to make it. 

Jungkook heaved a heavy sigh, obviously frustrated with the situation. “I’m really sorry man. I wish I could tell you she was going to be alright, she’s - what was her name again?”

“YN.” 

“Right, YN. From what you’ve told me, it seems like you got to her before it was too late, right? I’m sure everything will be fine. You said they’re pumping her stomach now, I’m sure it won't be much longer before you have more answers,” Jungkook sounded like he wanted to add on to that, but thought better of it, “Do you need me to come by? Eunha is at her parents house right now, I hung back to talk to you, I don’t mind-”

“Jungkook, no. It’s fucking Christmas. I’m sorry for taking you away-” he sniffled harder, “away from your family.” The dam is broken now, Yoongi was unable to stop the tears from flowing, sobs wracking his small frame. 

Jungkook’s heart broke at the sound of his oldest friend’s tears. He didn’t mind leaving his wife for a few hours, he knew she was safe with her parents, probably about to start working on dinner for tonight. “I’ll be there as soon as I can, man. Hang in there.”

Yoongi let out a shaky sigh, looking down at his now black phone screen. He felt like he was underwater, like his heart was beating in his ears. He could vaguely hear the chatter of the nurses and people in the waiting room, but his sole focus was on the pounding in his chest and the sinking feeling in his gut. All he could think about was you; what drove you to this? What could he have done differently last night to ensure your safety? Why was your brother calling you insistently throughout the morning? Most importantly, were you going to be ok? He didn’t want to think about that right now, couldn’t think about that right now, unless he wanted the hospital to have to admit him, too. 

Before Yoongi could spiral any further, he felt a warm hand on his shoulder. He looked up to see his youngest friend, dressed in gray sweats and a loose black pullover. Jungkook had a sad look in his eyes, not pity, but heartache at the pain his friend was feeling. Jungkook squatted down in front of Yoongi, hand still on his shoulder, so he could be at eye level with him. “Hey man. Any news?” He asked, solemnly. 

Yoongi shook his head slightly, trying to collect himself enough to utter a few words. “No. Nothing.” Yoongi squeezed his eyes shut, willing the tears to stop, just for a moment. His effort was all in vain, as Jungkook took hold of Yoongi’s hand, pulling him up into the taller man’s chest, embracing him. Yoongi’s small frame seemed even smaller in this moment, shoulders shrunk in on themselves, as Jungkook hugged the broken man.

“Why don’t you tell me about her?” Jungkook whispered to Yoongi, rubbing a hand up and down his back comfortingly. “We can grab some coffee and you can tell me all about her.” Jungkook wanted to get Yoongi away from this waiting room full of curious eyes, and wanted him to relax a little. He knew he was going to want to see you as soon as you were in the clear, and he wanted to make sure he was in a good enough state to do so. He could feel Yoongi nod against his chest, pulling away but still keeping one arm around the shorter man’s shoulders. 

Yoongi and Jungkook sat at a quiet table in the corner of the hospital cafeteria, nursing two black coffees. Yoongi was staring out of the window to his right, not really paying attention to what Jungkook was saying.

“Yoongi, do you want to talk about it? How did you guys even meet?”

Yoongi gave a small shrug, “she’s been visiting every year since I moved into my grandma’s house. I just now finally built up the courage to say hi. She seemed sad.” had a permanent frown in his brow. 

“So you wanted to say hello because she seemed sad?”

“Yes, JK, what more do you want from me?” Yoongi shot the younger man a glare from where he sat across from him.

Jungkook leaned back slightly, holding his hands up in a pacifying manner. “Hey, hey, man. I just want to hear about her, want you to tell me about her. That’s all” He said in a hushed tone.

Yoongi looked down at his coffee, focusing on the small billows of steam rising from it. “I’m sorry - I just -” he looked up at Jungkook, unshed tears threatening to fall again, “She’s perfect, you know? She doesn’t deserve any of this pain. She lost her parents, her brother, basically everyone who cared about her. I just wanted to- to be someone she could lean on,” he blinked rapidly, trying to rid the tears before adding on, “I think I love her, JK.”

Jungkook’s eyes widened a fraction before he schooled his expression, nodding his head. “I support you Yoongi, you know that. I always will.” Yoongi nodded at this. He knew it, would never forget it. Him and Jungkook had been through so much together, that’s why he was the first person Yoongi called when he got to the hospital this morning. “What do you think happened that caused her to do it?”

Yoongi bit his lip, remembering he had your phone tucked away in his pocket still. He slid it out, setting it on the tabletop between him and Jungkook. “I’m not sure… but I think it has something to do with her brother calling her.” As if he was summoned, Namjoon’s name appeared on the small screen, phone vibrating so violently it moved a little across the table. He’d been calling all morning, and from what Yoongi could gather from your lock screen, all night, too. It wasn’t his place to go through your phone, or to answer the calls from your brother, especially if him calling had anything to do with your current condition.

“Are you going to answer him?” Jungkook hesitantly asked, looking from the phone, to Yoongi, and back again as the vibrating faded out. 

Yoongi shook his head quickly, causing a sharp pain to shoot through his temple. He really needed to stop crying, he thought. “No. What if he’s the reason she’s here in the first place?”

“He’s her brother right? Her family?” Jungkook started, seeing Yoongi nod in confirmation he continued, “don’t you think he should know his sister is in the hospital for attempted suicide?”

Yoongi scoffed. He was bitter, but part of him knew Jungkook was right. He’s still her family, after all. Would it be the right thing to do, to tell him you’re here? Would he even want to see you? From what you’ve told Yoongi about your brother, he doesn’t think so. “He left her the last time it happened, hasn’t spoken to her since,” Yoongi mumbled, almost too quietly for Jungkook to hear, “I’m not sure he would even care.”

Jungkook pursed his lips. He doesn’t know you, nor is he going to pretend to know what it’s like to be in your shoes. Yoongi knew you better than he did, so he was going to take Yoongi’s word for it. “Want to head back up? See if there’s any news?” Yoongi nodded, looking down at the floor. The both grabbed their to-go cups and headed towards the elevators. 

Pain. Seething hot pain in your throat, that’s all you mind was focusing on right now. Your vision was black, and no matter how hard you tried to make a sound, nothing would come out. It felt like a thousand hot knives were forcing themselves down your esophagus, blocking any air flow. You were suffocating, this must be what it feels like to die, right? Because the last thing you remember was laying down on the cool tile floor of your bathroom after you swallowed your entire bottle of antidepressants. The pain in your throat must be from the excessive amount of pills you downed, right? Nothing else could explain this excruciating pain. You were obviously being punished for taking fate into your own hands. That was the only reasonable explanation you could come up with in your current state of mind.

“She’s waking up!” 

Wait. Why can you hear people? If there were people around, were you alive? 

“Administer more Propofol, she needs to be unconscious.”

No. No, no, no, no. This wasn’t supposed to happen. You were supposed to be gone. You wanted to be gone, but right now all you could think about now was making this pain stop. You silently prayed that whoever was helping you would make this pain go away. 

Yoongi was leaning on Jungkook’s firm shoulder, both sitting on ugly plastic green chairs in the hospital waiting room. A nurse had informed Yoongi that you were out of the operating room, and were moved to a more private ward of the hospital to recover. He wasn’t allowed in yet, as they wanted to monitor you a little while longer to make sure you were out of the woods. They explained to him that the first few hours after an overdose were the most crucial if there was any hope of the brain recovering. 

Yoongi was distraught, to say the least. Torn between calling Namjoon and waiting. He knew you didn’t have your parents anymore, knew that you and your brother didn’t speak, despite the 100 plus missed calls on your phone that said otherwise. He wasn’t sure if you had any friends back home in Busan, but from what you’ve told him, he guessed you didn’t. He was worried that you wouldn’t remember him when you woke up, and you would be confused and scared, alone in the hospital. He thought about calling your brother, just so you’d have a familiar face to wake up to, but the devil on his shoulder wouldn’t let him make the call. He had a sinking feeling in his stomach that if you did, in fact, remember what happened, the last person you’d want to see is Namjoon. 

Jungkook was deathly silent, texting his wife and family updates about you and Yoongi. Despite not knowing Yoongi well, or you at all, Jungkook and his entire extended family took an interest in your well-being. Jungkook told them how you had no family, and they completely understood why he was missing Christmas dinner. Yoongi felt bad for keeping him, but Jungkook reassured him over and over again, this is where he wants to be. 

“Mr. Min?” a mouse-like voice called from the circular desk at the center of the waiting area. 

Yoongi shot ramrod straight in his seat, eyes searching for the voice. A short, dark-haired woman who looked to be around Yoongi’s age, was making her way towards him. She had a sweet smile on her face, which only minutely lessened Yoongi’s worries.

“Mr. Min?” She asked again, hesitantly. She waited for Yoongi’s grunt in confirmation before continuing, “I don’t have anyone listed as Miss Y/LN’s next of kin, so since you were the one who brought her here, would you like an update on her status?” He voice was kind and soft, respectful of the environment they were currently in.

Yoongi cleared his throat lightly, “Ye-yes, of course. Yes.” He stuttered out, standing up and moving towards the kind nurse. He glanced over his shoulder at Jungkook, who gave him a small smile, encouraging him to go with the lady.

“I’ll be fine, do what you need to do,” Jungkook waved him off.

The young nurse nodded and turned around, walking back towards the desk. Yoongi trailed after her like a lost puppy, waiting for answers. “Mr. Min, we’re going to be keeping Miss Y/LN here at the hospital for a few days. She’s being put under suicide watch for 72 hours, as is protocol with cases like these,” Yoongi nodded solemnly, understanding the severity of the situation, “I see you listed on her intake paperwork that this wasn’t her first attempt. Is that right?”

Yoongi nodded his head. He didn’t like sharing your personal stories with this stranger, but he understood it was going to help them better care for you, which is all he wanted. “Yes. She had attempted… yeah. Three years ago.” 

The woman nodded her head, writing something on the clipboard she now held in her hands. “Thank you, Mr. Min. We’re going to continue to monitor her, but her vitals are looking good, and there are no outward signs of brain damage right now. This could change however, as once she’s awake and alert, her doctor will want to do another brain scan.”

Yoongi nodded, just glad you were alive and breathing. 

“She’s not awake yet, the sedatives are still wearing off, but they’ve removed intubation and she is resting,” Yoongi winced at this fact, “would you like to see her?”

Yoongi’s eyes finally met the small nurses after staring daggers into the hospital linoleum. “I can see her?”

The woman gave a short nod and a gentle smile. “Of course! I can tell you care a lot about her. She’s very lucky to have you, sir.”

Yoongi nodded, looking down again. He didn’t feel very lucky, and didn’t think you would either right about now. 

“Follow me.” 

Yoongi followed the lady back through two industrial looking double doors, past sterile smelling hospital rooms and nurses and doctors moving rapidly up and down the corridors. Yoongi always hated hospitals, they reminded him of when his Grandmother passed away. He was so hyper focused on walking, he barely heard her when the nurse spoke again. “Before you go in, it’s best to take a moment to prepare yourself for what you’re going to see. It can be really hard to see a loved one in this state, so I’m here to answer any questions you may have,” she advised kindly as she came to a stop outside your room. Yoongi’s stomach fluttered at the mention of you being his ‘loved one’ and he mentally scolded himself. This nurse had no idea about the strange dynamic that is your relationship, if you could even call it that. 

Yoongi shook his head lightly, indicating he didn’t have any questions, at least, not for her. She gave one nod of her head, before clutching her clipboard to her chest. “I wish you the best, Mr. Min.” She said as she walked away. 

Yoongi took a deep breath through his mouth, exhaling slowly through his nose. He wasn’t prepared to see you in a hospital bed, but his excitement at seeing you alive was overtaking his senses right now. He slowly pushed the door to your room open, taking two hesitant steps through the threshold. His eyes immediately scanned the room, falling over your fragile, but breathing, body. As Yoongi quietly shut the door behind him, tears automatically started falling down his cheeks, silent sobs hitting his chest. He swiftly closed the gap between him and your bed, lip trembling, and took your cold, limp hand in his. He didn’t even bother pulling one of those uncomfortable plastic chairs with him, he just knelt on the floors, kneecaps be damned. He wasn’t sure how he was going to react when he saw you, he knew he would feel relief at knowing you were alive, but he didn’t expect to be quite so overcome with emotion. He definitely didn’t expect to feel intense happiness at the fact that he could hold you again. You had no idea the effect you had on him, and in only four short days. 

You laid on the hospital bed, dressed in one of those white, scratchy hospital gowns. Your eyes were even more sunken in than Yoongi remembers, skin sallow and taking on an almost sickly green color. Your hair was a mess, and Yoongi inwardly cursed the nurses for not at least brushing through it for you. Your arm was bruised purple and green at the crease of your elbow where your IV now sat. Your bottom half was covered by a thick blue blanket that looked a little itchy. Yoongi grabbed the top of the blanket with his free hand, moving it up farther on your body, tucking it lightly at your far side. Even in this state, you looked beautiful to him. Despite what has taken place over the last 12 or so hours, he was still enraptured by you and your beauty. 

Yoongi brought your bony hand up to his face, placing a soft, lingering kiss on the back of your knuckles. His head hurt, his eyes hurt, and his heart hurt. He didn’t have any more tears to cry, just silent sobs as he laid his forehead on your cold hand. 

Eventually Jungkook made his way up to your room, after being informed by the same brunette nurse that Yoongi was up there with you. He knocked softly on the door twice before opening it and entering. Yoongi was still knelt on the floor by your bed. Jungkook sighed and knelt down next to him

“She’s gonna be ok man,” Jungkook started, placing his hand on Yoongi’s back, “you should rest before she wakes up.”

Yoongi nodded, allowing Jungkook to pull a chair over for him before sitting down in it, never letting go of your hand. Jungkook sat in a chair a little bit behind Yoongi, making sure the older man knew he was there for support. They sat in silence like that for a while before Yoongi started to feel drowsy, eyes falling shut and drifting into a fitful sleep, forehead pressed to your bed. 

You slowly blinked your eyes open, squinting from the bright lights above you. An intense smell of bleach hit your nose causing your throat to constrict and burn. The burn. It was still there, but dulled from last time you remember. You closed your eyes again, squeezing them shut in pain as you tried to swallow, causing a small, yet hoarse, whimper to emit from your throat. 

Immediately, Yoongi’s head shot up at the sound of you. He started rubbing soothing circles onto the back of your hand, still clutched in his. “YN,” he whispered, standing from his seated position, moving even closer to your body.

You blinked your eyes a few times before looking up at Yoongi. He could see the pain in your eyes with the way they were scrunched up cutely at the sides. You brought your hand to your throat subconsciously and Yoongi knew what you meant. He grabbed the pitcher of water from your bedside table and poured you a cup, passing it to you. You silently thanked him with a nod of your head and started gulping down the water. Yoongi sat back down and watched you carefully. He heard Jungkook stand from behind him, dimmed the lights, having watched how you were squinting your eyes, and quietly left the room to give you both some privacy. Yoongi reminded himself to thank him profusely later, but right now his focus was on you.

You finished the cup of water and Yoongi took the cup from your hand and set it back on the side table. “YN,” he whispered again, bringing his hand up to brush against your cheek, “you’re ok.” He smiled at you, genuinely smiled for the first time since last night. He was so beyond happy to see you, alive and well in front of him. 

You had a million thoughts running through your mind right now, and Yoongi could tell by the panic stricken look flashing in your eyes. He soothingly rubbed his hand up and down your arm that was free of any tubes. “It’s ok, love,” he comforted, “I’m here to listen if you want to talk, or if you don’t I’ll sit here with you in silence. You don’t need to explain yourself. I’m just happy you’re ok.” He smiled at you, and even though you could feel the love radiating off of him, you felt sick to your stomach.

How could Yoongi still want to be by your side after what you had just done? How could he still want to comfort you when you were like this? You had a lot of questions, but there was one at the forefront of your mind. “Did you find me?” Your voice was rough from the intubation tube, which you guessed was the reason for your throat burning before. You looked away from Yoongi when you asked, not being brave enough to meet his eye, in fear of what you might find. 

He sighed lightly, almost inaudibly. “Yes.” You could tell without even looking at him that he was choking up, on the verge of tears. At the sound of his voice, you let your own hot tears roll down your cheeks, not bothering to wipe them away. A large hand immediately came up to wipe them away. “Hey, don’t cry, love,” he whispered, “I’m not mad, I’m not upset. These are happy tears, I promise.”

“I’m not happy,” you sniffled, “I’m sorry, Yoongi, that you had to see me like that.” You brought your own hand up to your face to wipe at your nose. 

“YN, I don’t care about that. I swear to you, all that matters to me now is you. I want to keep you safe, want to help you fight this battle so you don’t have to do it alone. You have me, all of me.” His words were so sincere, so loving, you spared a glance at him, and the moment your eyes met, you knew he meant everything that he said. Even in your current state, he sent butterflies erupting throughout your stomach. You took in his face for a moment, red and puffy, tear stained cheeks, but his eyes were happy. You felt safe with him. You knew you’d have to talk about what all this means later, explain to him why you did what you did, but for now, you just wanted to be in his presence. 

Yoongi sat with you for the next few hours, texting Jungkook to head home to his family, apologizing profusely for keeping him away on Christmas. You didn’t talk much, just offering sweet smiles when Yoongi would check to make sure you were doing ok. Like the nurse told Yoongi earlier, your doctor came in to take you for a brain scan and to run some other tests. Yoongi waited patiently in your room while you were being tested. 

When you returned, the doctor checked your vitals again, before letting you both know that he would be back in the morning to run some more tests, and give you the results of the brain scan. You both thanked him quietly before he wished you a merry Christmas, and took his leave.

Alone again with Yoongi, you felt a calm aura wash over you. “Thank you,” you whispered quietly into the dim room, “I’m sorry I ruined your Christmas,” you said with a slight frown.

“You didn’t ruin anything,” Yoongi assured, walking over to your bed and sitting next to you, “There is no place I’d rather be than by your side.”

Just as Yoongi finished his sentence, a violent buzzing resounded through the room. Yoongi’s eyes went wide as dinner plates as he realized your phone was still in his pocket. Hesitantly, he brought it out of the back of his jeans and showed you what was on the screen.

You flinched when you saw your cell phone. You knew you’d have to confront Namjoon and Yoongi about what happened sooner or later, but you were really hoping it would be the latter. You reached out for your phone, pushing the red decline button. Yoongi looked at you with an unreadable expression as you let the phone fall to your side onto the bed.

You sighed, looking at Yoongi, lips pursed. “Go ahead, you can ask me,” you offered, rubbing a hand down the front of your face.

Yoongi looked sheepishly at you. Of course he wanted to know what happened, but he didn’t want to push you to tell him or to relive whatever it was that pushed you that far in the first place. His curiosity got the better of him as he chewed his lip raw. “What happened?” His voice was barely a whisper, the beeping of the equipment in the hospital room almost enough to mask it. 

“Namjoon was calling me, I guess, while we were having dinner last night,” you wrung your hands together, trying to warm them up in the frigid temperature in your room, “I didn’t think to check my phone until you walked me home.” Yoongi reached over to stop your ministrations, cupping both your hands in his and blowing warm breath between them. You smiled at his thoughtful actions before continuing, “He was drunk. I don’t think he even realized what he said, but - but he left me a voicemail,” your voice was getting quieter the further into your story you got, “he said he wished I had succeeded three years ago, that he wished he never saved me.”

Yoongi was seething. He had his suspicions that this was your brother’s doing, but he didn’t expect those words to fall from your mouth. He gripped your hands just a little bit together as he brought the back of them to his lips, forcing his emotions down. Yoongi bit down hard on his tongue to stop him from saying exactly what he wanted to say about your idiot brother, but he knew that you were still hurting, still recovering, and didn’t want to upset you or hurt you even further.

“YN - I’m sure he was just drunk,” he starts, before he realizes that the man who calls himself your brother has no excuse for what he said to you, “that does not, and I mean does not, give him an excuse to treat you like that, but you literally haven’t heard from him in what? Three years?” You nodded your head, worrying your bottom lip between your teeth. Yoongi gently reached up and thumbed at your bottom lip, pulling it away from the assault of your teeth before continuing, “He’s called you over a hundred times since last night. I haven’t answered, he doesn’t know you’re here, as far as I know. If you don’t want to tell him, don’t want to talk to him, I will support you, but I also think it would be good for you to get closure from him. Even if that means cutting him out of your life.” 

You nodded slowly, taking in Yoongi’s words. You knew he was right. You didn’t want to go through life wondering if Namjoon really meant what he said, if he was sorry, if he still thinks about you. You decided to table the conversation for now. It’s not doing anyone any good stressing yourself out about it. First, you needed to have a serious conversation with Yoongi about what exactly was happening between the two of you. You didn’t want there to be any questions when you went home from the hospital, wanted to feel secure in the choices you were about to make.

“Yoongi?”

“Yes, darling.” Yoongi said cooly, still holding onto your hands. He was doing that a lot today and you definitely weren’t complaining. 

“What is this?” You pulled one of your hands gently from Yoongi’s grasp and gestured half-assedly between you both. 

Yoongi’s brow furrowed momentarily before smoothing out and giving you a soft look. “YN - I - I don’t know what you’re expecting,” here it goes, you thought, he’s going to reject you. He’s going to say that this was all too much and he’s only here because he feels guilty. “I really didn’t want to do this here, while you’re lying in a hospital bed,” he scoffs lightly, shaking his head. Your heart drops. Is he really going to leave like this? You bite both your lips between your teeth, looking away to brace yourself for what he’s about to say. “YN I think I’m in love with you.”

Your head shoots up so quickly you think you might have whiplash. Yoongi giggles quietly at your reaction, gummy smile on display for a moment. “W-what?” Is the dignified answer you sputter out. 

This time, Yoongi is looking you directly in the eyes when he says, “I love you, YN. I know it’s only been a few days, but I already can’t imagine my life without you in it. I don’t care what hurdles we have to get past, I don’t care about all your baggage that you seem to think will scare me away, and I definitely don’t care that you seem to think you aren’t worth it. I know you’re worth it, you’re worth all of it.” Before you could form a response, Yoongi is standing up from his chair, wrapping both arms around your small frame and bending a little awkwardly to pull you up slightly to a sitting position. A beat passes before you realize he’s trying to hug you, and you quickly wrap your arms around his neck the best you can while  attached to all these wires and tubes. Yoongi nuzzled into your hair, which you think is probably a horrid mess right now, and whispered close to your ear, “They say absence makes the heart grow fonder, right? I thought I lost you forever, that’s the biggest absence I could’ve felt from you. It made me realize I never want to let you go again.” He pulls back slightly, placing the softest kiss to your cheek before placing his forehead against yours.

You looked up at him through your now wet lashes, “I love you too, Yoongi. You make me feel safe. Something I haven’t felt in a really long time.” You choked out the last couple of words, tears making their way down your cheeks now. “I’m so sorry I put you through this, I’m so sorry I broke my promise.” You were sobbing again. 

“Shh,” he murmured against your hair, “It’s okay, love. You’re here now, and that’s all that matters. Whatever we need to work through, we will, together.”

“Thank you Yoongi, I don’t know what I did to deserve you, but thank you.”

“Don’t thank me, YN. I just want to see you continue living your life.”

You sniffled, pulling back from Yoongi to give him a smile. “Merry Christmas, Yoongi.”

“Merry Christmas, my love.”

You were stuck in the hospital for the mandatory three days after Christmas. During that time they ran multiple tests to make sure you didn’t have any lasting damage and you met with two different therapists. Sadly, you knew these procedures, as this wasn’t the first time you went through them. The second therapist you met with suggested putting you on a different antidepressant from the ones you had before, along with an anti-anxiety medication for at least the next few weeks. 

Yoongi stayed with you almost the entire time (aside from going home to check on Mochi and to shower), sleeping on two chairs pushed together, despite you inviting him up on your bed multiple times. He refused on the grounds of ‘I don’t want my first time in bed with you to be at the hospital’, to which you rolled your eyes at. Yoongi had really lightened your mood over the last few days, mixed with the new medications, you were almost feeling back to your ‘normal’ self, or at least as normal as you could be. 

You and Yoongi had decided that it would be best if you took at least one more week off work to recover, and Yoongi was quick to offer to stay with you at your cabin, or have you come stay with him at his, enticing you with Mochi cuddles. Eventually you decided on alternating between the two houses to give you a little reprieve from the memories your cabin will inevitably bring back. Neither of you were dim, you both knew being at the hospital was like a vacation away from your demons. When you stepped foot back in that house, you would likely struggle, at least a little bit more than you are here. 

Being on bed rest for a few days, on top of having your stomach pumped, really did a number on your muscles. You were consistently sore, and were almost too weak to walk on your own. Yoongi was quite the gentleman, massaging your calves when they hurt and walking you to the bathroom when you needed it. You felt lucky to be loved by him. You wanted to be able to show him just how much you loved him in return, and made a mental note to do just that once you recovered. 

On your second night in the hospital, a man by the name of Jungkook came by to check on you and Yoongi. He introduced himself as Yoongi’s best friend and you learned he was married with a baby due in just a few weeks. He was kind and handsome, just like Yoongi. You also found out that he had stayed with Yoongi at the hospital, on Christmas, while you were unconscious. You profusely apologized to the man, getting into a bowing battle while you were sitting on the edge of your bed, while he profusely refused your apologies. You decided you really liked Jungkook and his aloof personality and were glad Yoongi had such a great friend to be there for him. 

You were finally being released on December 28th in Yoongi’s care, something he wasn’t going to take lightly. The hospital made him sign paperwork saying he would keep an eye on you. While it made you feel slightly like a teenager again, you couldn’t deny that you probably needed it, and were just thankful it was Yoongi who would be the one watching over you. 

It was nearing 7 in the evening, well past dark, when Yoongi wheeled your wheelchair, another accommodation you tried to fight, out to his car. He helped you into the front seat, making sure you were comfortable before strapping you in with the seatbelt, closing the door, and jogging to the driver’s side. 

Yoongi clapped his hands together and rubbed them furiously together for a moment. “It’s freezing! Let’s get you home, baby!” He flashed you a gummy smile before starting the engine. 

You giggled at his antics and felt your cheeks heat at the pet name, covering your mouth with your hand. You were feeling pretty good on the drive home, Yoongi looking over at you every couple of minutes to make sure you were alright. You were curled up in the passenger seat watching the trees zoom past the window. Sometime during the drive, Yoongi reached over across the center console and placed his large hand over your knee. You glanced over at him, softly smiling at eachother, and placed your much smaller hand over his, intertwining your fingers together. 

The drive wasn’t long, maybe twenty minutes, but in those twenty minutes, you grew excited. Excited to spend time with Yoongi tonight, to lay with each other in your bed, excited for the future for what felt like the first time since your parents passed. You pictured your parents for a moment, a fleeting thought, what would they think of Yoongi? You wish they could’ve met him. You’re sure your mom would have loved his kind nature and his ability to cook. Your dad would have liked that he had good manners and was always a gentleman. You turned your head to look out the window, smiling sadly to yourself. You were sad they were gone, of course, but you were also happy in this moment and you didn’t want your memories to subtract from that. 

“Almost home, love.” Yoongi said, squeezing your knee. You didn’t realize you had just about dozed off, head leaning on the window. You pulled your hand away from Yoongi’s to rub at your eyes briefly. “Uh, YN?” You looked up at Yoongi in confusion, his tone almost panicked. “Whose car is that?”

Your eyes immediately found the car in question, a sleek, black sports car, parked behind your crappy silver sedan in the cabin’s driveway. It only took you a moment to realize by the license plate ‘RKIVE’ that it was your brother’s. 

You swallowed the lump in your throat as Yoongi turned into his own driveway. He could tell by your reaction, you didn’t want to see the owner of that car. 

“My brother.”

It took you a good thirty minutes of pacing Yoongi’s kitchen and countless encouragements from the man himself to build up the courage to go over to your cabin. You had so many questions; why was Namjoon here? How long had he been there? How did he get in? You know you had the locks changed in the last three years since the incident. What confused you the most though, is the fact that his calls completely stopped after Christmas day. You had assumed that he had given up trying to contact you and went on with his life, but apparently he had different plans.

“Are you ready baby?” Yoongi asked you from the kitchen, standing up from pouring food into Mochi’s bowl.

“I really don’t know, Yoongi,” you twisted your wrist in your other hand, a nervous habit, “What if he’s here to yell at me again?”

“YN, I really don’t think he blew your phone up for a day and then drove all the way out here to yell at you,” Yoongi started, rubbing his hands up and down your arms, “and besides, if he is here to yell at you, I’ll be right by your side the entire time. You know I wouldn’t let anything bad happen to you, right?”

You nodded, letting out a deep sigh. Yoongi smiled at you and pinched your chin between his thumb and his forefinger, brought your face up to meet his gently, and placed a kiss on your forehead. Your eyes fell shut and you felt all the tension in your body flow out of your body at once. This man really did have an effect on you, and you were thankful for that in this moment. “It’s now or never, I guess.”

You and Yoongi walked hand in hand over to your cabin, standing at your front door, you hesitated before unlocking it. Yoongi squeezed your hand as a silent gesture to let you know he was with you. You took a few cautious steps into the house, silently looking around the open living room. No sign of Joon yet.

As you stepped around the corner, you could hear faint rustling coming from one of the rooms. “Joon?” You called gently, probably not quite loud enough for anyone to hear. “Namjoon?” You called a little louder. The rustling stopped. Now you heard quick footsteps, loud clumsy footsteps that you could never mistake, heading in your direction. You stood half in front of Yoongi, hands still intertwined behind your back waiting for your brother to appear. 

Namjoon stumbled out of his old bedroom, looking not at all what you expected him to look like. He was wearing an old pair of black sweatpants and a faded t-shirt that you think once had your father’s college alumni printed on it. His light purple hair, that’s new, was disheveled and sticking out in every direction, looking like he had run his hand through it at least a thousand times. But what shocked you the most, was the pure panic in his eyes. As soon as his eyes met yours, the panic seemed to dissipate, though it didn’t completely disappear. He rushed over to you, placing both his large hands on the tops of your shoulders, startling you and causing you to bump into Yoongi behind you.

“YN - Oh my god, YN,” Namjoon started to sob, head dropping down onto your shoulder. You felt Yoongi let go of your hand and placed both of his hands on your waist, holding you steady against his chest. “Thank God you’re ok! Where the hell have you been!?” Namjoon was full on crying into your shoulder now, tears staining Yoongi’s sweatshirt he had let you wear home from the hospital. You were still pretty weak on your legs from the bedrest, so you started to wobble a bit from the pressure Namjoon was putting on you.

You started to bring your hand up to lightly push back from Namjoon to maintain your balance, bracing yourself against Yoongi. Namjoon looked at you with confusion in his eyes, before he glanced up seemingly noticing the blonde man behind you for the first time.

“Who the hell are you?” Namjoon demanded, though he didn’t sound very threatening with tears flowing down his face. 

“I-” Yoongi started, but you cut him off, feeling suddenly defensive of the man you love. 

“My boyfriend,” you started, causing Yoongi’s eyes to widen slightly. It’s not that he didn’t like the new title, he was just shocked, hearing it come from you. “Why are you here, Joon?”

“Boy- boyfriend? YN what is going on? Is that where you’ve been? Sleeping around with him?” You furrowed your brow, mouth dropping open. Was he drunk? 

“Are you fucking drunk again Namjoon?!” You started to raise your voice, attempting to pull away from Yoongi, but he wasn’t letting you move any further, worried for both you and your brother at this point. He’s never heard you raise your voice, and if he’s being honest, it’s rather intimidating.

“Yeah YN, I am! I drove 3 hours down to this God forsaken cabin last night to find my baby sister missing, nowhere to be found and a bottle of empty pills in the bathroom. How the fuck do you think I was supposed to deal with this?!” He was near screaming at this point. 

You raised your finger up and pointed it right at Namjoon’s chest, “Oh, I don’t know Joon, maybe you could have actually gone out and looked for me instead of sitting on your ass and drinking yourself to death!” Yoongi had a tight grip on your upper arms at this point, making sure you didn’t get physical. He was pretty sure your brother wouldn’t hurt you, but he couldn’t say the same for you. 

Namjoon scoffed at you, taking a small step forward so your finger pushed into his firm chest. “I thought you were dead YN! I was fucking terrified I was going to find you out in that God damned lake, frozen to death. I- I-” he stuttered out, fresh tears building up at his lashes and anger dissipating, “I was scared. I didn’t want to find you out there again.”

Though Namjoon’s anger seemed to be lessening, yours was only building. “Scared? You were scared!? Why!? Because if you found me out there, you knew it would have been your fault?” You spit the last words at your brother, you knew it was low, but he literally cut you out of his life, what did you owe him?

You watched as Namjoon let the tears fall down his cheeks, biting at his trembling lower lip. “I’m so - so sorry YN,” he whimpered, actually whimpered. You don’t think you’ve ever heard your beast of an older brother whimper. “You have to under- understand that I didn’t mean what I said the other night. I listened to the voicemail a few hours after I left it and I- I was so worried when you weren’t answering your phone. I wanted to apologize, take it back, but I was scared it was too late. I even called the police the day after to ask if they- th-” he didn’t need to finish that sentence, you knew what he meant. If they found your body. You heard Yoongi inhale a sharp breath behind you, obviously affected by what Namjoon was trying to say. You nearly forgot he has been a witness to this whole scene. “They said they didn’t find… anyone. I tried to let it go, tried to let you ignore me, but I couldn’t. I had to come down here and see for myself.”

“Well, here I am. You can leave. Now,” you spat, turning around and walking towards your kitchen. “C’mon Yoongi,” you mumbled, taking Yoongi’s hand in yours. 

“YN - wait,” it wasn’t your brother’s voice that you expected to hear, but Yoongi’s. You stopped and turned around, staring at him like he grew two heads. He took a step closer to you, “You need closure, YN,” he whispered softly down at you. Your eyes softened at his ability to stay so calm and level headed throughout this entire ordeal. You blinked up at him a few times before nodding your head. 

Yoongi didn’t want to put you in a position you were uncomfortable with and he knew you didn’t want to look at your brother. Hell, he wanted to beat the shit out of Namjoon himself, but he knew you needed this. 

You took a few steps past Yoongi, stopping a few feet in front of your brother. Namjoon, who had previously been staring a hole through the carpet, met your eyes with his glistening ones. Yes, he said horrible things to you. Yes, he has treated you as if you don’t exist for the past three years. But, he’s still your brother, right? He’s quite literally the only family you have left in this world. With both your parents gone, grandparents long dead, and no other siblings, Joon was really all you had. Even though he may not deserve your forgiveness, don’t you owe it to yourself to try and patch up your relationship?

“Joon…” you trailed off, looking up at the ceiling attempting to stop the rush of tears stinging the backs of your eyes. You weren’t sure if you should tell him what happened over the last few days, since you last heard his voice. He was the reason you were in the hospital in the first place, but did you really want to make him feel the guilt for putting you there? You weren’t so sure. Your caring nature yelling at you internally to lie, to sugar coat things to spare your brother the pain. Before you could fight your internal battle, it was Namjoon who spoke first. 

“Can we talk about this, a little more privately maybe?” He questioned, his sour tone catching Yoongi’s attention. Yoongi has tried to stay quiet through all of this, hoping to let you hash it out on your own. It wasn’t his place, after all. He didn’t know your brother, and he believed you could handle yourself. But he wasn’t about to leave you alone with Namjoon, and he needed to make sure the other man knew that.

“I’m not going anywhere,” Yoongi started, folding his arms across his chest defensively, “She is in my care, after all.” He really didn’t want to play that card, unsure of how you would feel about it, but he really, really, needed Namjoon to know that he wasn’t going to budge. 

“What the hell do you mean she’s in ‘your care’?” Namjoon narrowed his eyes, shooting a questioning glare your way.

You let out a heavy sigh, briefly turning your body to give Yoongi an apologetic look. “I’ve been in the hospital, Joon. They only released me on the condition he stays with me, or vice versa.”

“Wh-what do you mean you were in the hospital?” His previous distraught look coming back, “Why didn’t you call me? I’m your family I should be the one-”

You cut him off before he could finish that statement, “Taking care of me? Namjoon, you left me at a hospital three years ago and haven’t so much as said ‘hello’ to me since then. What makes you think you have any right to even assume I would want you to care for me?” Namjoon at least had the decency to look ashamed of himself for the first time tonight.

“YN, I- I called that night, on Christmas Eve, to apologize,” he looked behind you at a glaring Yoongi before looking back at your equally enraged face, “I know, I know! I definitely didn’t do that in the voicemail that I left, ok I know,” he put his hand up as if to pacify you, “I had been drinking and I was thinking about you - in fact I - I think about you all the time. I’ve just been a terrified asshole who was too afraid you’d reject my apology. I had the courage that night and tried calling you a few times. When you didn’t answer I figured you hated me, and it set me off. I- I’m s-so sorry YN I never, ever meant to hurt you like this. I was so scared of losing you, I tried to distance myself from you, so if I did l-lose you, it wouldn’t hurt as bad as when we lost mom and dad.”

Your eyes softened minutely at his words, the fire in your eyes fleeting, but still there. “You’re fucking right you’ve been an asshole Joon,” you scoffed, “did you ever think about what I needed? How I felt? You distancing yourself from me was like having my entire family ripped away from me. You were all I had left.” Your last words were whispered, but your brother heard them loud and clear. 

Namjoon's long legs only needed two steps in your direction before you were chest to chest with him, his strong arms wrapping around your shoulders. To say you were shocked was an understatement. Regardless of how much you wanted to hate your brother right now, you couldn’t deny that it felt nice to be in his familiar arms again. He hasn’t hugged you in years, and you’re feeling lightheaded from all the physical contact you’ve had in the last week. It took you a moment to respond to his hug, slowly wrapping your weak arms around his middle. He could feel the way your small frame was beginning to shake, presuming you were weak from being in the hospital. It took him a second to realize you were sobbing in his arms.

Namjoon nuzzled his face into the side of your head, having to bend a significant amount to account for the height difference, and croaked, “I’m sorry YN. I’m so, so sorry. I know I don’t deserve your forgiveness, but please, please let me be here for you. Let me be your shoulder to cry on, be the one you confide in again.” He sniffled, rubbing his cheek against the top of your head. “I’ll stay by your side, I won't leave you, I promise.”

“I’ve missed you so much,” you blubbered out, soaking Namjoon’s shirt with your tears. He ran a hand soothingly up and down your back as he let his own silent tears fall. 

“I’ve missed you too baby sister.”

Yoongi had been a silent observer, staying back, allowing you both to have the space you needed to sort this out. At this point, he wore a small smile, arms still crossed over one another. He decided it was time for him to leave you both alone for a moment to catch up and talk things through a little further. He quietly slipped out of the living room with a plan to make some hot tea for you, briefly meeting Namjoon’s eyes which were silently thanking the older man.Yoongi gave a quick nod and turned to walk away. 

You and your brother spent the next few hours talking about everything on your living room couches. He stayed close, but not too close, to give you your own space, which you appreciated. Yoongi came back after a little while, hot tea and mugs in tow. He sat by your side, offering you silent support with a hand on your knee or shoulder. You were thankful for his presence. Even though you and Namjoon had talked some things out, you still felt a little awkward with him here. 

You told Namjoon about your job and how you haven’t left it yet, despite hating your boss for so long. You talked about your life in Busan and how you moved into a new apartment a couple years back. He told you about his studio, Rkive, in Seoul and how he’s been working with some pretty big names recently. He was hopeful that one of his songs was up for Song of the Year for some award show next month. You expressed how proud you were of him, finally having the chance to tell him. Most importantly, you talked about your brief stay at the rehab facility three years ago and your most recent stay in the hospital here. You both cried when you talked about your second attempt at your life. You hugged each other and Namjoon apologized profusely to you, which you graciously accepted.

After you had spilled all your collective tears and put everything out on the table, Namjoon turned his attention to the other man in the room, who up until this point, had been completely quiet. “Yoongi?”

Yoongi was taken by surprise at the sound of his name coming from Namjoon’s mouth. Eyebrows raised, he looked at the purple haired man sitting across from him, “Hmm?” 

“I wanted to thank you,” Namjoon said apologetically, “I don’t know you, but you saved my sister. She also seems to trust you,” he gave you a quick smile, showing off one of his dimples, “so I guess I should, too. But really, man, thank you. I don’t know what I would do if I lost her.” His gaze fell to his hands that were clasped in his lap.

Yoongi sat up a little straighter on the couch before answering, “You don’t have to thank me. I share the sentiment, I don’t know what I would do without her.” He smiled down at your, wrapping his arm around your shoulders, making you give him a small smile in return. “I really love her,” he said lovingly. He was talking to Namjoon, but he was staring into your eyes, getting lost in them for a moment. Namjoon noticed this, and couldn’t hide the smile that was spreading across his own face. That’s when he knew you were in good hands. He trusted Yoongi.

The next hour passed by quickly, sharing more stories amongst the three of you. Eventually Namjoon told you he had to get going, needing to be back in Seoul for a meeting tomorrow morning. He offered to cancel and stay the night, but you and Yoongi both told him he should go, and not to worry about you. If Yoongi wasn’t here, Namjoon would have definitely canceled, but he felt good about leaving you with him 

You wrapped your arms around your brother's neck, reaching up on your tiptoes. Namjoons arms wrapped around your middle, lifting you up slightly as he whispered in your ear, “I love you baby sister, please don’t forget that. I never stopped loving you.”

“I love you too Joon, don’t be a stranger.”

“I won't, trust me,” he let out a short laugh, devoid of any humor before setting you back down on your feet. He turned to look at Yoongi, before reaching out to shake his hand. Yoongi walked the short distance to grab his hand, only to be pulled into Namjoon’s frame for a hug. “Thank you again, Yoongi. I wish I could stay longer to get to know you a little better, but it was really nice to meet you.”

“I’m sure there will be more opportunities for us to meet,” Yoongi said, with an almost demanding tone. Namjoon took the warning for what it was, leaving you a little oblivious next to them. “Drive safe.”

Namjoon pulled away, giving you one final smile, before turning around to take his leave. You stood in the doorway, watching your brother start his car and pull out of the driveway. You knew you had plenty more unresolved issues and a lot more to discuss, but for now, your chest felt lighter at the aspect of having your brother back in your life. You were a little sad that he had to leave so quickly, when you felt like you just got him back, but were hopeful you would see him soon. 

Yoongi could feel your mood shift slightly, moving to wrap his arms around you from behind in a comforting back hug. You closed and locked the front door before turning around in his grasp. “I’m sorry,” you murmured into his chest. You didn’t see it, but Yoongi looked down at you in confusion.

“Why are you sorry, love?” He inquired, rubbing a hand up and down your spine.

“I’m sorry you had to sit here all night and listen to me cry,” you began, “I’m also sorry you had to meet my brother under such circumstances.”

“Don’t be sorry, YN. I’m so happy you were able to see Namjoon again and talk about things. I know it can be hard to talk about these things, and I know it must be hard to let him back into your life suddenly, but I know it will be helpful to you in the long run. I only want you to be happy, love.”

You look up at Yoongi in complete awe. How was this man in love with you? A broken shell of a person, with her weights worth of baggage. What did you do to deserve him? The literal epitome of perfection.

“Don’t thank me,” Yoongi lightly scolded, a smile on his face. “I can practically hear your thoughts right now.”

You scoffed, mock offended, putting your hands on his chest to playfully pull away. He wasn’t having it though, and pulled you back into him, rocking you both back and forth gently. “Oh no you don’t, you’re mine tonight,” you know he meant it in a playful way, but it did things to you that you didn’t want to admit to yourself right now, “I told you I wanted to lay with you properly and I’ve been waiting way too long to finally do that.”

“Let’s go to bed,” you began, taking Yoongi’s hand in your, walking down the hallway towards your bedroom. 

“Sounds like a great plan,” Yoongi said, following after you obediently. 

After you and Yoongi both got changed (Yoongi having to run home to grab some things, and also grab a very unamused cat), you kneeled in the corner of your room playing with Mochi, who lay in his cat bed that Yoongi also brought over. 

Yoongi was laying back on your pink sheets, arms crossed behind his head, watching you in amusement. “He really likes you, you know.”

You looked over your shoulder with a toothy smile on your face. Yoongi very nearly melted into your mattress at the sight. “You think so?” Yoongi nodded as you turned back around to face the Calico in front of you. “Well, I really like him too,” you cooed at the cat in question as he arched his back into your pets. After you had your fill of cuddles, you slowly stood up from your crouching position, causing Mochi to mewl.

Yoongi let out a loud laugh from his spot on your bed. “Yeah, I would say he definitely likes you.”

You laughed along with Yoongi while turning the lamp on your side table off. Yoongi scooted over on the bed to make room for you, pulling the pink and white comforter back. You gladly took your spot on the bed, rolling on your side to face Yoongi. To say you were nervous was a big understatement. “I’m gonna miss him when I go back to Busan,” you whispered sadly. 

“I’m glad my cat made such a big impact on you,” Yoongi said dryly, deadpanning in your direction.

You giggled quietly and shushed him. “Of course I’m gonna miss you too, Yoongi. I thought that was a given.”

“I mean, it’s still nice to hear,” he gently smiled down at you before draping one arm over your side, placing his warm hand on your lower back. He nudged your back a little, signaling you to move closer, to which you obliged. “You know, you don’t have to go back,” Yoongi whispered, hopefully. 

“Yoongs, I have to,” Yoongi smiled his signature gummy smile at the nickname making you stifle a laugh, “my job is there, I have an apartment there. I can’t just leave.”

“Is this cabin paid off?” Yoongi asked abruptly, before you could continue making excuses.

“Yes…” you trailed off hesitantly. 

“Then you could leave your lease in Busan, and move to the cabin. I know you love your job, but there is an animal shelter here. It’s where I got Mochi from,” the cat meowed softly in the corner, making you smile again, “I could put in a good word for you.”

Yoongi was so thoughtful. I definitely don’t deserve this man, you thought to yourself. Yoongi chuckled and raised his hand to brush a strand of hair over your shoulder. “Did I just say that outloud?” You asked, mortified for Yoongi’s answer.

He just nodded, still giggling. “YN you deserve the world, and I will work every day to make sure you believe that.” 

Your cheeks were hot, but your heart was full at his words. This beautiful man in front of you wanted to give you the world, wanted to make sure you never wanted for more in your life. Who were you to turn down such an offer? What did you have to lose anyways? A shitty paycheck and an even shitter apartment. That’s what.

“Okay.” You state simply.

“Okay?” Yoongi perked up, lifting his head a bit to stare at you. It was dark, but there was enough moonlight shining through your window that you could see the way his eyes lit up at your words. You smiled a bright smile at him, nodding your head aggressively. “Do you mean that?” Now he was sporting a smile to match your own.

“Yes, Yoongi. I’ll do it. I want to do it. I’m ready.” You smiled, because you were. You don’t think you’ve ever spoken truer words. You were ready. Ready to put Busan behind you, ready to start a new life with Yoongi. 

“I love you YN,” Yoongi said seriously, searching your eyes for any bit of hesitance, to which he found none, “I mean it, love.” He looked down to your pink lips, and back up at your eyes. 

Your breath caught in your throat, the feeling of butterflies suffocating your lungs was a good one for once. You nibbled on your bottom lip and exhaled shakily. Yoongi grunted, a sound you realized you found incredibly sexy and wanted to commit to memory for a rainy day. He was staring at you intensely, silently asking for permission, which you granted with a quick nod of your head.

Yoongi’s lips crashed onto yours with an intensity you’ve never felt before. The flutter in your chest only increased as his soft lips moved against yours. All you could feel, taste, smell, was Yoongi. You inhaled his citrus-y scent, letting it surround you and he brought his free hand up to your burning cheek while his other caressed your side gently. He tasted better than you could have ever imagined, a little minty, and you were immediately hooked. His kiss was like the nicotine you craved from your cigarettes, your new addiction. Your lips moved together synchronously for a few minutes before both of your lungs burned for oxygen and you reluctantly pulled away. 

Yoongi held your face in his hands like fragile China, reveling in this moment here with you, your face illuminated by the moon shining through your window. He saw galaxies in your lust filled eyes, the most beautiful sight he’s ever seen.

“Thank you, YN,” Yoongi whispered breathlessly, mere centimeters from your lips.

“For what?” You asked, just as breathless, chest heaving.

“For giving me one more day.”

© aliendes | copyright 2020

[helahades]

Longing

(Thor x Gender Neutral!Reader)

A/N: This is a repost of a fic that is mine! I originally posted it on an old random account. It’s been a while. Now though, this is my writing blog, and I want to bring this back from the depths

When I wrote this, IW and Endgame did not exist and I knew peace skskssk

Warnings: None. Except the way I used to avoid writing dialogue.

Word Count: about 1k

—

Thor missed you. It was plain as day to anyone passing him by as he idled in the halls of Avengers Tower. He was listening with a lazily focused ear as Natasha worked through confused, and slightly bewildered explanation of faux plants... He’s been finding himself in similar scenarios with different Avengers throughout the week as he not-so-patiently awaited your return.

You were away on a business trip, and as it was, Thor hated being without you. He would never admit such loneliness directly, of course. So he found himself looking around at Midgardian inventions, poking at Bruce in his lab, and most recently.. asking Natasha why humans don’t just plant plants.

Just previously, he had halted her path, booming voice bouncing off the bare walls and smooth black marble to ask why Midgard was full of such feigned oddities. What is the use—better yet.. the beauty in a plant of plastic, fabric, and paper?

True, he had been genuinely interested in human culture since his first visit to Midgard; with his interest only peaking upon falling desperately in love with your eyes. After watching you doodle in the margins of your notes during a standard briefing, it became his mission to do something—anything to peak into your world and unlock the tales behind the fleeting glances careful examinations you granted him, and other things that caught your attention. A tragic incident with some bees and a large handful of flowers taught him of your love for nature and life, as well as earning him a place in the warmth of your heart.

Now, as he is regarding Natasha’s mask of diplomacy, his focus eventually drifts to the imitation plant, and he considers its irony. He considers how it might inspire the two of you to run away. Not for long, of course. You would find the closest meadow, be it minutes or hours or years away. Sitting in the grass and amidst the gently ruffling breeze, two of you would let loose dreams of a place.. of a time that couldn’t exist on earth, the sweetness of which you could hardly fathom.

—

The domestic appeal in bed-sharing soon proved to stand as a challenge to your ever flowering and inexorable curiosity. Lying near him and even considering sleep was taking a nap in heaven’s archives or having a staring contest with a prophet. Despite this, forgetting his otherworldly experiences was shamefully simple when he was beside you. When the sun is up, and you are granted time to just live and love in the presence of one another.. it’s exactly what you do. There is no time to be silent.

As the heavy ocean of rest lulls you to sleep tonight though, you desperately want to give in. Yet you fight to stare at the light squares reflected on the dark ceiling, wanting to absorb as much as is possible from the enchanting life of Thor Odinson. You want him to tell you everything he’s ever seen and all he’s ever been. Somehow, you might not be ready for the answers. But now is as good a time as any: His gentle breathing was beside you and your fingers laced together.. gently treading the new and impossibly complicated waters of intimacy. It’s now or never.

You first asked of Asgard, of the finest beauty in the life of one who seemed to live and love forever. One who saw through fire and flames, war and peace to conserve the culture and identity of his people..He would tell you that despite a multitude of hardships, he mostly felt he was always growing from a boy: Consistently bearing new burdens brought by age, but never breaking even with wisdom. He had so much left to learn and would often say the most beautiful he ever saw was the vaguely guarded wonder in your eyes.

After you dismiss his flattery in whispered entertainment.. You simply lie there. The bed suddenly feels too soft. A few seconds to answer suddenly seems too long.

One.

Two.

Three.

You ask again.

“What do you love about Asgard?”

And as he does, he tells you he could never choose. Meadows as lovely as the ones you always found secluded and hills of habitats were a couple of his favorite things. He loves the coolness of sea and stone.

He loves you—and suddenly his nostalgia is blended. His heart houses much too much to list. Of course, if he must list.. you will always be at the top. How can you separate anyone you deeply love from the things you want to show them, and all that came before?

He knows you don’t—you won’t believe his flattery. So he remains falsely indecisive.

-

So here he sits in the field. Your hair is blowing with the breeze. You half joke that it had been just the way you like. That the wind has spoiled it now. You tell him you’ll be home soon.

-

So here he stands. The hall is chilled with professional attention. Your hair had not been blowing. The room was still—aside from the waves of his desperation. The twisting of the too shiny palm leaf as Agent Romanoff turned it in her hand..

His heart twisted too. Loki had always said his fears of separation were a troubling sentiment, and that longing was a sign of the weak.

Thor’s focus shifts a bit farther into the distance as the agent slowly fades from her talk of the plant and he sees you bounding down the hall. Your slacks are worn and your hair graces your temples. Your tired frame regarding him with such love reminds him of how he’s been feeling, and he feels glad you’ve missed him too. It is not unlike the sun peaking through the clouds after ages of rain.

You are unlike any sea or sun or hill. He suddenly can’t see any trouble. But overwhelming sentiment. And he think he has found the most enchanting beauty in all the realms.

And it is grounding. And it is vulnerable.

He thinks that despite all you think he’s seen, he has never felt more displaced and at one with the universe.

All he loves about all he’s seen is whatever lead him to you.

[softboywriting]

Hungover | Shawn Mendes

Summary: Shawn has too much to drink with the guys one night and you help him through it the next morning. [tour blurb] [fluff] [established relationship]

Word Count: 1k

|Masterlist In Bio|

Sunrise illuminates the back bedroom of the bus, not enough to have been what woke you up but enough to bathe everything in a warm yellow and orange light. You’re stiff, body curled against the wall and you stretch out. It wasn't like you to sleep so balled up. Your arm reaches out and you bump a body beside you. You twist yourself and see Shawn's back facing you.

"Oh," you mutter softly and turn over to face him. He's shirtless, bare back covered in little pale freckles. It wasn't like him to crawl into bed with you without waking you first. You know something must be wrong or he was a little drunk when he went to sleep. The two of you frequently shared a bed, but he always checked if you were up for sleeping together first.

The bus is still on the road, you can tell by the shadows of power poles passing rapidly every few seconds and the way it shakes a bit as bumps and holes in the road are hit. You remember when you first started touring with Shawn, how hard it was to sleep or even ride on the bus without getting sick or just laying sleepless for hours. You got used to it, obviously.

"Shawn?" You whisper softly, running your hand up his back. He stirs, a soft snort indicating his consciousness. "You're in my bed."

"No, my bed," he mumbles.

"No, its mine." You work your fingers into his hair and scratch gently at the base of his neck. "Did you, Brian and Connor have too much to drink last night?"

He's silent. You think he's fallen asleep but then he rolls over to face you. He still says nothing and just lays there staring at you.

"Hungover?"

"Yeah." He whispers hoarsely and you rub his chest. "I was stupid."

"Stupid huh?" You slide your hand up to his throat and massage gently, making him close his eyes and go slack jawed. "What'd you drink?"

"Whiskey."

"Whiskey and?"

"Tequila."

You hum softly and he winces at your disappointment. He knows he shouldn't drink hard liquor on tour, not with shows every other night. Hell, he didn’t even actually allow it on the bus, but Brian and Connor are little shits. The alcohol fucks with his voice, makes him sluggish and not feel a hundred percent. There isn't enough recovery time between shows for him to have more than a light beer or two. You’re more surprised than disappointed. He’s always so health conscious and careful with his body on tour. "You know better."

"I do." He says and you pull your hand away from his throat. "I was feeling anxious after the last show and the guys were having a few drinks and I got carried away."

"Shawn." He opens his eyes to look at you. "Drinking doesn't help the anxiety."

"I know."

"It makes it worse and then you feel terrible the next day. Why didn’t you talk to me?"

"You were asleep." He closes his eyes again and he just looks so disappointed in himself. "Don't yell at me please."

"When have I ever yelled at you?" You push some curls off his forehead. "Hmm?"

"Never."

"Exactly." You get up and crawl over him. "I’ve got an idea. Do you want orange or fruit punch to drink?"

"What?" He asks, rolling over to look at you where you're standing by the door to the main room of the bus.

"Orange or fruit punch?"

"I don't understand."

"Pedialyte. It's supposed to be help hangovers, remember? We've got two bottles in the fridge from last time Brian got wasted at the arena in LA."

"Oh. Orange please."

You go out into the main room and head for the kitchen area. Connor is passed out on the couch as you pass by. You grab a cup and dig into the back of the fridge for the Pedialyte. There's just enough orange left for a full glass. You grab a few migraine relief caplets from the medicine cabinet and head back to the bedroom.

Shawn is sprawled out, arm over his head as he stares out the window at the sunrise. He looks soft, golden and glowing in the morning light. Even hungover he is cute. How unfair.

"Sit up." You sink on to the side of the bed and hand him his medicine and drink.

"Thank you."

"You're welcome." You lean over and dig through your backpack on the floor while he drinks. You pull out your makeup bag and take out your travel pack of facial wipes.  "Lean forward."

Shawn sets his cup on the stand beside the bed and leans toward you. You pull out a wipe and wipe down his face. It's incredibly oily and he closes his eyes as you clean him up. "You don't have to do this," he mumbles as you wipe at the creases of his nose.

"I know."

"You spoil me."

"No, I care about you." You take your pot of lip creme from your bag put it in his hand. "Use some of this too. I'm going to make you some juice for breakfast and maybe later we can stop for some actual food. Just go back to sleep for a few minutes."

Shawn wraps his arms around you, pulling you in against him and you run your hand over his hair. "Thank you." He presses his face into your neck. "I promise I'll make it up to you."

"You don't have to do that."

"I do." He sighs and you kiss the side of his head. "I gotta give you back just as much loving.”

"You do Shawn. It's okay to let someone take care of you sometimes. You don't have to do everything on your own."

"I know. I'm just not used to having someone. It’s been a long time." He pulls back and kisses your nose. "I adore you."

"I adore you too."

End

----------

Thank you for reading :)

Please reblog!

-A

*****Note: none of my works should be posted anywhere outside of my linked accounts. I do not give permission to repost with or without credit to my accounts. Please notify me of any reposted fics.*****

[rtenthusiast]

home again- b.h (part 3)

Ben Hardy x OC

Word count: 1k

home again playlist (ben)

home again playlist (ches)

(I don’t own this gif)

Summary: Ches meets a new client and they hit it off. Ben visits her to grab food but is off-set by the man sitting across from her desk.

Disclaimers: I don’t own any of the gifs/pictures in this post. Grammar and spelling errors. 18+ explicit language. Enjoy!

May 20

My phone rings and I jump in my chair. I turn back to my desk and answer it.

“Ms. Barrett, one of Mr. Michaels client’s is here to see you.” Emily speaks through the phone.

“Send him in.”

“He’s really cute.” Emily tries to whisper into the phone.

“Goodbye Emily.” This girl has no limits.

Seconds later there's a knock at my door. I straighten out my skirt and walk to the door. When I open it I’m greeted by a man who seems to be in his early 20’s. He is really cute. We seem to stare at each other for what seems like hours but in reality it's just a few seconds.

He speaks first.

“Hi, we spoke on the phone, Barnett Clarke?”

“Yes, you can take a seat over here Mr. Clarke.” I clear my throat and lead him to my desk. He sits down and smiles at me.

“Babe.”

“I’m sorry?” I say, a confused expression climbing up to my face.

“You can call me babe,” He laughs, “It's a nickname, Barnett is too formal for my liking.”

Oh.

“Ok then, Babe, let's get started.” I laugh and a blush creeps onto my face as I call him that rather loving and intimate nickname.

“Well, like we discussed my grandfather passed away and-”

“I’m so sorry for your loss.” I cut in, not realizing I just blatantly interrupted him.

“Oh gosh I didn’t mean to interrupt you like that, that was very unprofessional I apologize-”

“Let me interrupt you. You’re fine. Don’t worry about it.”

“I don’t know why I’m making this such a big deal I just had a long weekend and-” I cut myself off.

“I’m rambling. Sorry.” I laugh and clear my throat.

“It's fine, really. Let's get down to business.”

We go over the details of his grandfathers Will and I take notes for Mr. Michaels. After about 20 minutes we forget what we have met to do and fall into casual conversation until we are once again interrupted.

Seems to be the recurring theme today, I say to myself when there's a knock on the door. 

“Emily, I’m with a client!” I yell towards the door.

“It’s not Emily.” The door creaks open and a familiar blonde head of hair shows through the crack.

“Ben?”

“No it’s Emily.” He responds with a squeaky voice.

“Haha, very funny. Come in.” I yell back dryly. 

“I didn’t mean to interrupt-”, just as he begins to speak Babe and I look at each other and smile.

The word of the day it seems.

“Did I say something?” Ben looks confused as we realize from an outside point of view it looks like we're having a random staring contest. We both turn back to Ben.

“It’s nothing. Ben, this is Babe. Babe, Bens an old friend of mine.”

“Hi, how are you?” Babe gets up and goes to shake Ben's hand.

“Fine.” Ben stands still as Babe clears his throat and straightens his tie trying to make a quick save.

Weird.

“I came to see if you wanted to grab some early dinner.”

“Um, yeah. I think we're just about finished here, can I schedule another appointment for you and Mr. Michaels? I have a spot free on Wednesday at 2:15.”

“Sounds great. It was very nice meeting you Ms. Barrett.”

“Francesca.” I correct him, “ And yes, it was great meeting you, I’ll see you back here Wednesday Mr. Clarke.” 

“Babe.” He shoots back, shaking my hand and nodding towards Ben as he heads for the door.

“Oh Ms. Barrett it was so wonderful meeting you, may I kiss your hand before we depart?”

“Shut up.”

“Babe? What is he five?”

“Ben! He isn’t even halfway down the hall, keep it down.” I scold him.

“Just saying.” He says in a matter-of-factly manner.

“I happen to think it’s cute, and memorable. What other Babes do you know?”

“Plenty.”

I roll my eyes and he laughs while fiddling with the things on my desk

“I’m serious, I like it.” I say as I smack his hand away from the mints, knowing if he has one he won’t stop.

He shifts uncomfortably in front of my desk and I decide to change the subject.

“So, early dinner?”

“Yep, where would you like to go?”

“I’m in the mood for some mac and cheese, anything ring a bell?”

“Yeah, there's a nice place a few blocks away. We could walk if you’d like.”

He finishes his sentence and, on cue, thunder rumbles through the town. 

“Or not.”

We exit the elevator and I see Emily eyeing us with zero discretion. 

“Hi Ben.” She says with a smile.

“I see you two have already met.”

Wonderful.

I wanted to tell Emily how dinner went but I never got the chance too, I hope she didn’t ask Ben. Or what if he said something to her?

“Yes we have. Sorry Emily, no time for chit chat, we're heading out for some mac and cheese.”

“I’m jealous. Have fun.” She winks at us.

Never subtle.

“I’ll call you later.” Emily gives me a knowing look.

As we get into the car we realize what time we decided to leave, rush hour.”

“Traffic is out the ass, we won’t be there for another 20 minutes.” I complain.

“Don’t be such a baby, we can go back to my house if you want, but you’ll have to deal with my parents.”

“As much as I love them, I’ve had a long day and I just want to eat and go home to a nice bubble bath.”

“Your place then?”

“Yeah that's fine.”

“Anyways, you mentioned a bubble bath.” He says as I smack his arm and we laugh together.

He's such an idiot. 

I missed this.

AN: Hello! I’m sorry for the wait, I had a very busy week but I hope you liked this weeks chapter. I’m hoping to upload once a week but sometimes life gets out of hand so forgive me if I go off track. Do we like Babe? How do we feel about the small jealousy coming from Ben? George Mackay is Babe’s face claim (I love george 🥺). This is him incase the gif is wonky:

[coffeeandcalligraphy]

👀

send me a 👀 and i’ll post a snippet of art/writing that i never got around to finishing this year (r.i.p)

okay so here’s the tea on all the things that didn’t get finished in 2019!

2019 was the year of abandoning short stories lol oops! Here’s the hit list: :’(

1. Growing Season

This is such a hard hit because who doesn’t want to read a story about a woman replacing her boyfriend with a cactus, narrated BY the cactus?? I’d love to revisit this story because a) it’s told in my fave POV (first person directed to “you”) and b) “you” is an apathetic college dropout who goes for the hard dRAG after a bad breakup with her boyfriend, and c) because a cactus NARRATES it.

I’m at a little over 800 words in this story (it def gives me Sea Life by Eliza Robertson vibes).

2. Phantom Limbs in D Minor

Biggest hit! I’ve been working on this story since March, made good progress in the beginning, and slowly began drifting from it. I’ve chipped away at it sporadically over the last few months, and I’ve made it my goal to finish it over break! I don’t see myself hitting this goal, but I do hope to actually finish this story because I feel like it contains some of the best prose I’ve written and I love the vibe! I’m at over 2k words with a scene of about 1k floating around. I’ve actually toyed with making this story a novel because the scope seems quite large, but I definitely want to finish the short story before I think about that more! We follow chaotic Linda as she stress renovates her childhood home (a past! commune!) after her mother’s death. Linda is so precious to me, and I’d love to give her a story! If New York by Ex:Re was a person, it would be Linda lol. 

3. Anatomy of a Swinging Door

I’m making a statement, and my statement is that this is my designated cult story which means it must happen in the future. This was originally my “test out first person retrospective” story, though I think the point of view isn’t working super well here, but we’ll see! I conveniently wrote a logline for this story when I was trying to narrow down the scope, so here you go: A young woman visits her childhood home on the one-year anniversary of her brother’s disappearance and meets the new (and strange) family who lives there. 

(cult!)

So the second round of tragedies goes toward novels, AKA Houses With Teeth (which I can share excerpts from!). 

4. Houses With Teeth

I really struggled with this book this year, because it came to be in a time where my writing was getting an overhaul (though I didn’t realize it at the time)! I’ve learned a lot about intention in writing over the last year, something the Fostered series has lacked (oops). This led to me being very unsure about where I wanted to go with this book in particular--the same route as all the others (weird contemporary with dystopian elements that haven’t fully gone away yet) orrrr plan out something a bit more literary! I’ve fought with myself over this since April, and still don’t know where I’m going, but I’m missing my chaotic diva narrator Reeve and would love to get back into her head! 

This book has gone through about 3 openings, and I haven’t fully landed on any yet. I’m rethinking how I want to start this book, but taking my time with Moth Work to work me up to the timeline in HWT (which takes place about 8 months after the end of Rewired). I think I’ve shared most of this!

Some excerpts of first person retrospective Reeve (AKA Rachel trying to be Emma Cline looool):

Though the church was only a fifteen minute walk from the apartment, I packed a picnic basket of cha siu bao and a bottle of red wine and wore heels so they would know I wasn’t Christian. The basket wasn’t mine and neither were the bao—these were both things I’d taken from Liu. This wasn’t the first time I’d stolen from her. I’d once taken her fifty-dollar jar of saffron from the pantry because I’d heard it was the most expensive spice and wanted to feel rich. I took her jade Buddha necklace because she’d left it in the back and I wanted to feel cultured in her city, I wanted to become her history. The saffron jar was replaced. She didn’t comment when I wore the necklace at my next shift. This was why Liu and I worked well together. She pitied me so would never fire me, even when I skipped shifts and cussed at the customers. I felt entitled to her things because she was kind to me. I felt entitled to her kindness. 

lol I haven’t read this in months and it made me laugh #valid:

I crossed the street before the streetlight changed because this is how I lived in New York City. The world was unfair and lightless and I was an atheist who believed in God, walking in five inch heels on a busted road in the ghetto so I could get enough holy water to drown the ghost out of my apartment. 

When all else fails, add a dash of mother:

The air that summer was always the same: dense and wet, even on the good days. It clung to my arms and threatened to erode the skin there, even when it wasn’t sunny. I remembered my mother’s insistence of sunscreen when I was a child; before the pool, in the pool, out of the pool, when we weren’t even at the pool. Her hands were always cold and the sunscreen was always liquid—Izzy was never good at temperature or putting things in the right places. She’d put the instant coffee in the fridge and the cream on the counter. She’d cook the eggs too long and the ice too little. My father would criticize her as a joke and she’d threaten a divorce. This was the only thing I knew was true about my mother. Sunscreen was expensive, so I never bought it. 

Reeve bringing out the drag:

“Grab me a pack of cigarettes?” I shifted the picnic basket so it rested in the crook of my elbow.

“ID?”

“You don’t need my ID.”

“I ID every customer. You’re nothing special, baby.”

The man’s mustache wilted in the tungsten light of the variety store, spindly like loose threads. My father had grown a mustache like that once, and it took only two nights before my mother cut it off in his sleep. Izzy was brash like that, and I wanted that too; to find a pair of scissors in one of the aisles and chip at that flaccid mustache. There was nothing special about this man, either. All men in New York City tried to look like that; facial hair like coiled up leeches, a gut they pretended wasn’t a gut, but the fault of an unflattering polo from their wives. I imagined the snip of the kitchen scissors on my father’s upper lip, the same snip I heard the next day when he clipped the evergreens lining the walkup. There was something coarse about how similar it all was—pruning trees, grooming facial hair. I had turned twenty that spring—it would’ve taken only a minute for him to pass me a pack, but this was too easy. I wasn’t biological in New York City; I shouldn’t have been. 

5. Fostered But It’s Magic

So this was never meant to be a full project, though I had hoped to write a bit of it just for fun and never got around to it! FBIM (obvi working title lol) is exactly what it sounds like: the Fostered series but with a magical twist! I don’t write very much genre fiction, nor have I ever written fantasy, but a few months ago, felt drawn to the idea of putting Fostered in a magical world (my comp titles are SHREK 4 meets HOWL’S MOVING CASTLE). 

I don’t have any of this written, but I do have a few notes which I can share! 

I didn’t realize I’d made a tag yourself writing these notes but (I’m Lonan):

Reeve is a magical con artist who runs her own business selling bootleg magic. 

Lonan is absent and part bird

Harrison *believes* he is #magic free but has been recently getting hot flashes during nightmares.

Foster has an in-home herbalism business where he helps mostly the elderly and children. He has a cart that he wheels monthly into town. Kind of a failing business.

The gist is that Harrison (who we’d be following) can’t sleep due to hot flashes and nightmares of his ex (@ Lonan) and is referred to a small business run by a clairvoyant who promises to make all psychological problems disappear—relationship issues, sleep issues, life issues. This clairvoyant is actually Reeve who is telikinetic of some sorts, and doesn’t actually provide magic, but manipulates (usually weak) brains, AKA tricks people into paying her large sums of money when she gives them no magical help in return. We ALSO have a “past” plotline, and this is the very loose logline I’d written down (tho if I ever write any of this, is subject to change):

After being tormented by nightmares of his ex lover resulting in violent hot flashes and an inability to keep up employment, Harrison seeks a magical intervention. When the clairvoyant he hopes will cure his strange ailment turns out to be a con woman—and his old friend—he is thrown back into the past and forced to rekindle relationships he thought he’d left behind.  

Some dialogue I wrote down ft. clairvoyant Reeve being Reeve:

H: Why are you doing this? 

R (reapplying lip colour): Is my lipstick distracting you? The colour is dazzling.

H: It’s bullshit. 

R (abruptly stops drawing on lip colour): The lipstick? 

H: Your work.

My fave interaction tho has to be this bit I’d noted down with pure Foster comforting Harrison after a nightmare:

Foster *reading on couch when Harrison wakes up in #panique*: What happened? Harrison? Do you need some eucalyptus? 

*do u need some eucalyptus*

That’s basically all the writing related things I didn’t finish in 2019! I’d love to explore them all in 2020 though! Thanks for asking. :)

--Rachel

[ai-suru-hito-yo]

Waiting For Someone To Release Me (Pt 1.)

Pairing: one-sided Roger x Reader, John x Reader

Word Count: 3k

Summary: You met the boys of Queen while working at a pub during one of their gigs. You didn’t expect them all to be so ridiculously talented and attractive (of course that could simply be the fact you hadn’t seen any action in months talking) and you especially didn’t expect them to become a constant part of your life in any way.

Warnings: none really, alcohol (this part takes place in a pub), terrible summary, tags will change as the story progresses

A/N: I started writing this as part of @rogerina-deacon‘s 1k challenge, and y’all, she got away from me. I’m gonna have to post it in at least four parts, the second of which I should have up tomorrow (Saturday). Based on Christina Aguilera’s “Genie In A Bottle”, which is also where the title comes from. This first part is a little shorter, and is mostly just setting the scene. All mistakes are mine. Also, to all you Roger stans, I’m sorry. It gets better, and then it doesn’t. Fair warning, I’m gonna hurt him.

Part 2

———————————————————————————————————–

You were working to put yourself through college when you met the boys, a master at the oh so coveted position of server at an absolute dive of a pub, though you did have to admit the music scene there was great. The manager somehow had a knack for scheduling the best bands, though he himself had no music ability whatsoever, and this night was no exception.

There were two college bands lined up back-to-back, and since he claimed you had the most experience and were the most professional, your manager had insisted you help personally take care of the bands. Two others were chosen to help you with the task, and the three of you would spend the night being exclusive servers to the musicians.

The job could either be wonderful or terrible depending on the night and on the talent booked.

Your two helpers for the night, Colin and Rachel, had taken on the task of serving the larger, seven person group and left you with the smaller group, four lads who called themselves Queen.

You took a deep breath and braced yourself for the worst before making your way to the partially hidden booth at the back where Queen had set up camp for the evening.

“Hello, gents,” you called as you stepped up to the table. “My name is (Y/N) and I’ll be looking after you four exclusively tonight. If you need anything at all or have any questions or concerns, I’m your girl. Now to start, could I get you all some drinks, perhaps?”

The raven haired one to your immediate right spoke up first.

“Oh, perfect, darling. We’ll surely have a wonderful night! I’m Freddie, and I’ll have a vodka soda please, dear.”

Freddie was quite handsome and exotic looking. You noted something of an accent to his speech that indicated time spent far from this little corner of London.

“Coming right up, Freddie,” you replied with a little wink, which in turn caused a big grin to spread across the man’s face. He turned to the very tall man next to him and whispered what sounded like, “I like this one!” The man chuckled, his shoulders and his beautiful, dark curls bouncing. You watched as he turned his lovely smile toward you.

“I’ll have a glass of grapefruit juice, please. I don’t like to drink before shows. I’m Brian, by the way.”

“Lovely to meet you, Brian,” you responded. It truly was lovely to meet him, he was very polite and soft spoken. He intrigued you, like there was something much more to this gentle giant, something complex. Your gaze lingered on him perhaps a moment too long before you were brought back to earth.

“'Ere, love, what have you got on tap?” A high, raspy voice came from your immediate left, directly opposite Freddie. You turned toward the source and nearly did a double take.

Are all the members of this band ridiculously attractive? You thought to yourself. The man (for upon closer inspection, this creature definitely appeared male, if not entirely human) who looked up at you was breathtakingly beautiful. His features were even softer and more delicate than those of the other two men you had already spoken to. Waves of shining, blond hair framed a slim face from which huge, very round, sky-blue eyes stared at you. Eyes which looked you down and back up again. Ugh. Could he be any more obvious? One eyebrow was cocked and a smug smile pulled at one corner of the man’s mouth.

“Have you got any cheap pale ales?” The man’s nose even twitched when he spoke. How cute. You mentally shook yourself. Damn invasive thoughts.

“I’ve got Whitbread,” you suggested,

“Perfect, luvvie,” the man said, before shooting you another smirk and slipping his sunglasses back on. Why he needed them inside the dimly lit bar you did not know.

“That’s Roger,” Brian said. “The biggest ‘member’ of them all.”

“Oi! Watch it, Bri! I might have to–!”

“Okay, a Whitbread for Blondie!” you interrupted, sensing already that Roger might be a bit of a handful. Freddie clapped his hand together and laughed as Roger pouted. You ignored them and leaned a little closer to address the quietest member of the group. Once you got a good look, though, you felt your mouth go dry and suddenly felt like your throat was closing up.

The man sitting beside Roger was the most magnificent creature you had ever seen. He was somehow both cute and incredibly sexy as he leaned back casually, observing everything around him. The golden tawny mane that tumbled down the man’s shoulders looked soft and luxurious, and your fingers itched to reach out and touch. He had a strong nose which was perfectly rounded on the end and drew attention to the plush, pink pout of his lips. His green-grey eyes seemed to take in every detail, and when the met your own, you felt as if the man were staring into your soul.

“Uh,” you addressed the man eloquently.

“This is our dear bassist, John,” Freddie offered with a secretive smile. “He’s also our tech wizard and our financier.”

You finally recovered from your small crisis and flashed Freddie a soft smile before turning your attention back to John.

“A Jack of all trades, I see. Well, what about you, love? Would you like a drink?”

“I’ll have three fingers of whiskey. Whatever is cheap will be fine, please and thank you.”

John’s accent hinted at a northern heritage, and his voice was immediately calming to you. He was just as polite as Brian, and you already felt yourself swooning.

“Coming right up, John,” you said with a soft smile, and with one more glance at the man, you turned to make your way back to the bar.

As your poured the drinks, you eyed up the whiskey shelf, weighing your options. Someone who drinks plain whiskey must drink it because they like the taste of it, however John had ordered something cheap, so you reasoned he must be on a budget. You quickly grab one of the top shelf bottles and pour out the desired amount. As you add it to their tab under the price of the pub’s cheapest variety, you told yourself you were simply providing good service and placed it on your tray between Brian’s juice and Roger’s cheap ale.

———————————————————————————————————–

The rest of the night passed smoothly, the bar was packed to the breaking point with patrons come to hear the live music, but thankfully no one decided to start any conversations with their fists, and it seemed no one had been sick on the floor, as had happened the past two times you had worked a live show night. Both bands played wonderfully, and except for a small sound problem, which John fixed in about five minutes, the performances went very smoothly.

You found you really liked Queen, they were one of the better bands you had seen perform in your time at this particular pub, and they seemed to have real potential.

Freddie’s voice was clearly very special, powerful and unique to anyone you had heard before. You could tell he was also a very capable pianist.

Brian was a sorcerer on his guitar, able to create sounds you had never heard before, sustain solos you thought would never end, looking like some ethereal creature under the stage lights while making it all look effortless.

Even Roger, you had to admit, left you cheering. You were very impressed by his speed on the drums, moving faster than any drummer you had seen before and creating strong, solid beats for the other three to follow. His voice was also very special. Halfway through one song, you could not seem to recall the name of it, he let out a high, sustained screech that you originally thought came from a distressed patron. When the crowd started cheering instead, you looked to the stage to see Roger eating up the attention. You paid closer attention after that and soon realized the man had an amazing falsetto voice, and could hit notes you had once thought only dogs cold hear.

You were not really sure what to think of John for most of the night. You did not see him sing much, if at all, and he stayed back from the crowd at first. You thought he seemed very shy and nervous which you thought was strange for a member of a rock band. Around halfway through their set, Queen played their longest song of the night, a song Freddie introduced as “Liar”. The song seemed to instill some confidence in John, for soon he started dancing around in place and appeared to enjoy the music more. There came a call and response portion toward the middle, and you found you could truly not look away. Freddie leaned back against John as they shared a microphone and the crowd went wild. You thought you could even hear a few people shouting the words back at the appropriate times. They were captivating, and it was clear to you that John did know haw to work a crowd, even if he was too shy to actually do it. Then came his solo. You watched closely as John went wild, strumming hard and fast, and you felt your mouth go dry again watching his rather large hands coax such raw sound from his bass guitar. You cheered along with the crowd as John executed a slide that sent shivers down your spine. He caught your eye and smirked, and for the rest of the night, John was unstoppable. He danced around the stage, and occasionally jumped up to the drum riser to reconnect with Roger. Together they were clearly a powerhouse, a strong and stable foundation to build upon.

The band had just left the stage and you were making your way back to them to check in and tell them you loved their performance when you thought you heard someone shout your name from across the pub. You turned toward where you thought it had come from, but did not see any familiar faces, only people chatting among themselves and gearing up to move along home for the night. You shrugged it off and made your way to the table where you could see Freddie still clearly hyped up on the adrenaline of performing.

“Hello again, gents,” you said as you approached, trying to reign in your excitement for them and remain as professional as possible. “Just checking in again, can I get you anything else?”

“(Y/N)! Dear how was it? Did you enjoy the show?” Freddie was bouncing on the balls of his feet in front of you, skin and hair still glistening with sweat, a bright, almost manic glimmer in his eyes. “Honestly, please tell me honestly, did you like us?”

“Freddie, yes!” you answered with a laugh. “Queen is wonderful. Really, you are! I’ve seen a lot of bands come through here, a lot of really good bands, but you lot are really something else. I was captivated by each of you from the first note.”

Freddie screamed before grabbing you around the shoulders and smashing you against his chest in a bone-crushing hug. It was a little gross, as he was so sweaty and it had soaked through his stage costume, but you still brought your arms up and returned the embrace. You were finding you liked Freddie more and more as the night wore on.

“Alright, Fred, give the poor thing room to breathe!” came Brian’s voice. “I’m sure (Y/N) would like to go home and not have to nurse any cracked ribs.” Freddie gave you one last squeeze and a quick kiss on the cheek before letting you go and turning to pack up his own gear. “Please forgive him. He’s like a puppy sometimes, he gets way too excited after a show, especially with a good crowd like this.”

“It helps that they had great music to respond to. I mean it truly, Queen is great. You’d have to be dead not to be moved by at least one of your songs.”

Brian laughed at that, shoulders and curls shaking once again, and said, “Well, thank you for such honest and…creative approval.”

“You’re welcome! Now really, is there anything I can get for you gents? Perhaps one more drink to toast a great show?”

“I’ll take another drink and your number,” came that now familiar, raspy voice. You turned around to see Roger, already changed out of his stage clothes, approaching you with a smug look on his face. He was actually a good bit taller than you originally thought he was. Perhaps it was a trick of perception, with him sitting behind the drums for the last hour, your subconscious just assumed he would be significantly shorter than his band mates.

“Seriously, Rog?” Brian cut in before you could answer. “Cool it, eh? (Y/N)’s on the clock.”

Roger opened his mouth to argue, but you cut across him. “I’ll go grab those drinks, eh?”

“Only if you’ll have one with us!” Freddie called to you. “Please?”

You sighed. You really should refrain from drinking on the job, but you were also assigned to take care of Queen and see to any doable request they may have. You figured one little drink would be fine.

“Oh all right, Freddie,” you answered, shaking your head. “Same for everyone?”

“Perfect, darling!”

“Make mine a lager, please? I’d like something a little stronger now, post show.”

“Yeah, sure.”

“Yes, please,” came a voice you had not heard since before the show started. John was watching from where he had a long, rectangular case, which you assumed held his guitar, tipped against a wall next to what looked like a plain-looking cabinet speaker. “I’ll come help you.”

“Okay,” you said with a small smile. He gave you a pointed look, and you knew he could tell you had been giving him one of the better quality liquors and passing it of as bottom shelf. “Thank you, John.”

You turned back toward the bar and felt rather than heard John follow closely behind you. He sat on a stool at the end of the bar while you ducked behind the counter, fixing everyone’s drinks and finding one for yourself.

“So did you really like it?” John asked suddenly, his finger tracing through a ring of condensation left behind on the bar. He glanced up at you from beneath his long eyelashes before he looked back down to the moisture on the dark wood. Seeing the confused look on your face, he added, “The show. Did you really like our music that much?”

“Oh! Yes!” you said, putting your drink pouring on hold to lean against the bar in front of him. “I meant every word I said. I truly think you four have a lot of potential and I cannot wait to see what Queen becomes. You really blew me away with that solo of yours, John. I was truly captivated.”

John looked up at you and smiled then, and in that moment, you knew you were in trouble. The way his eyes crinkled around the edges sent your heart aflutter, and you were certain the little gap between his perfect front teeth was the cutest thing you had ever seen. You knew you had to see him again, and were just about to ask when and where their next show was when a familiar voice boomed down the bar at you, making your skin crawl.

“Oi! What’s it take for a real man to get service around here, eh?!”

Your eyes widened as you turned, horrified, to face your absolute prick of an ex boyfriend.

[itisannak]

Dancing Lessons (Michael Clifford Imagine)

Summary: For Calum's wedding, Michael learned how to dance, so he can dance with (Y/N). Based on Love Prompt #56: "You've learned how to dance... For me?"   Connected with Winter Wonderland (Words: 1k)

(Michael's POV) "I can't believe we are wasting Christmas just to watch you get married." Luke states as he fixes Calum's bowtie. "Well, I am getting married to the love of my life and the wedding is going to be pretty spectacular, so it is better than anything lame you had planned for today." Calum replies, patting Luke's shoulder. "I still can't believe you got her to say yes." Luke shakes his head and Calum chuckles. "Between you and me, pal, I can't believe I got her to say yes as well." Calum jokes, earning a chuckle from all of us. "Well, she did say yes and you did plan a hell of a wedding, so we are all happy to be here and watch you get married to your girl." I state, pouring everyone a glass of champagne. We raise our glasses, clinging them as everyone wishes Calum the best.

As Calum's groomsman, I had to stay next to him on the altar. Watching my best friend getting married makes me feel warm on the inside; I can't help but look at my girl, my (Y/N). She looks so content, observing the wedding and the little details. She is the love of my life; I always knew that, but today, standing up here, watching her in the crowd, I can picture my future with her lucidly.

For anyone who thought that the ceremony was breathtaking, the party came to fucking end them. The place looks like a castle made of ice, and the detail of the decoration shows how much time they've spent on this. I grab 2 glasses of champagne from the waiter's tray and walk to where (Y/N) is sitting, having a chat with some of the guests. "Hi, there." I whisper in her ear as I rest my chin on her shoulder and push a glass of champagne in front of her. "Hi." She cheers, turning her head a little so she can leave a kiss on my lips. She picks the flute from my hands and turns around, clinging hers to mine. "Where's the happy couple?" She asks me after we both take a sip. "Probably fucking their brains out after the photoshoot." I state and she giggles. "You look really pretty today." I comment, leaning in, to peck on her forehead. "Do I?" She asks and I nod my head, resting my free hand on her lower back. "Well, I am glad you like my outfit, Mr. Clifford. But you should really wait and see what I have underneath that dress." She whispers, leaving a kiss below my earlobe. "You are going to make staying at the party hard for me, aren't you?" I ask and she smirks at me, shrugging her shoulders. "And it is not the only thing I am planning on making hard tonight." She replies and I hum. "Wanna head to our table? I am sure that food is about to be served and the Hoods are about to be here." I suggest, trying to hold myself back. She smiles at me, with that mischievous smile of hers, before she moves ahead of me and towards our table.

We watch as the Hoods share their first dance, smiling like little children as they spin around and practically make out in front of everyone. They look blissful, glowing. And as I turn to my right, I see my girl, my (Y/N), looking at them like she is about to cry out of mushiness. "Are you ok?" I ask her, getting her attention. "Yeah, they just look so good together." She smiles at me and I bring my hand to stroke her cheek with my thumb. She leans her head on my palm, taking a deep, but calm breath. "I'll be right back, ok?" I whisper and she nods her head, leaving a kiss on my palm. I walk to the DJ, passing him a post-it note and a 20$ bill. He gives me a thumbs up and I nod off before I rush back to my table and wait for the song I requested to come up. "(Y/N), will you join me for the next dance?" I ask my girlfriend as I extend my hand for her to grab it. She looks at me with surprise written all over her face like this is the last thing she would expect to hear in her life. "Are you sure about that?" She asks. "Yes. Now, can I have this dance?" I ask her; she takes my hand, standing up as she fixes her dress.

I walk us to the stage, placing a kiss on the back of her hand as the first chord of 'Can't help falling in love' echos through the sound system of the venue. I place my hands on the small of her back as she places hers on my shoulders and I guide us as we begin dancing. I do basic moves, mainly slow dancing with her, but occasionally spinning her around and twirling her back to me. She giggles like a little child, glowing as everyone's eyes are on us. "I thought you didn't know how to dance..." She whispers as she rests her head on my chest. "Well, I learned how..." I reply, kissing the top of her head. "You learned how to dance? For me?" She asks surprised but also has a childish grin on her face which seems to brighten up the already fully-lit room. "I did. Plus, the lessons might be useful for our wedding as well." I state and she tilts her head to the side. "Are you proposing to me?" She asks and I let out a short laugh. "No, not today. Calum made it clear that if any of us is going to propose at his wedding, he better have the money to pay for half the wedding as well." I reply and she chuckles. "But when I am going to propose, I am going to sweep you off your feet. So, be prepared." I say and tilt her chin up, placing a short peck on her lips. "I am here waiting." She whispers, her lips brushing on mine.

I wanna marry this woman.

My Masterlist

[rohdutch]

Straight Out of a Student's Story

Pairing: teacher!Elias Samson x teacher!reader

Word Count: 1k

Summary: You and Elias are both teachers that a lot of students ship due to little things they've noticed.

A/N: I'm literally so sick of looking at this lol I've reread it so many times and had so many technical difficulties trying to figure out how to post this on mobile, but finally!!! I have kinda figured it out. This is the first thing I've ever posted on tumblr so hopefully when I publish this, nothing goes screwy and everything goes smoothly and I never have to reread this again (I say as I reread this one last time to check for last minute mistakes). Thanks to @sophiagriff for helping me out with formatting on this, you honest to god saved my life. And if anyone wants to be tagged in future things, let me know! I totally plan to write more things, but it'll take some time to get used to putting things on here + fitting in writing time while also still dealing with school. Also, it's apparently almost 10 pm where I'm at currently which means I've spent practically the entire day dealing with this thing.

-

"Look! They even have lunch together!"

"Britt, you're an idiot. Mr. Lopez and Mr. Scherr eat with them too. How do you know she isn't dating one of them?"

"Because Mr. Scherr is married and Mr. Lopez isn't her type, Tyler. Keep up, will ya?"

Tyler peeked into Ms. (y/l/n)'s room as they passed. It did seem a little odd that Mr. Samson would eat lunch in Ms. (y/l/n)'s room when his class was located on the first floor on the other side of school with the other music rooms, while Mr. Lopez and Mr. Scherr's room were both right down the hall. "How do you know Mr. Lopez isn't her type?"

Britt shrugged. "It's just a feeling I get. By the way, did you read the story Sadie wrote for the creative writing assignment?"

"I think you've been watching too many romance movies. And no, should I have?"

"No, I was just wondering. She wrote it about Mr. Samson and Ms. (y/l/n) and it was insanely cute."

"Isn't that a little creepy?"

"Maybe, but it was really cute and I could picture the entire story in my head while reading it. Sadie's really good at writing them."

"I shouldn't have asked. It's completely creepy."

-

"Alright," you began, passing out the last of the worksheets to your class, "notes are on the board if you need them. Don't forget about the negative sign in certain problems. If you have any questions, don't be afraid to ask."

Just as you were about to turn to go back to your desk, a student raised their hand. You nodded for them to speak.

"What's your opinion on Mr. Samson?"

You laughed. "I meant math related questions, but I guess I should've clarified that, huh?" When you looked around the room it seemed that the student's question had gathered everyone's attention. "Mr. Samson is nice. He's very sweet and respectful. And obviously a good guitar player."

"Why do you eat lunch with him?"

"Why not? It gives us a chance to hang out."

"Do you ever hang out outside of school?"

"Does anyone have questions about math?" Glancing around the room told you no, no they didn't. You let out a sigh. "Yes, but only sometimes. Usually we're too busy to hang out much. Now, get to work. This assignment is due at the end of the period."

At the back of the class, Britt turned in her chair to smirk at Tyler sitting behind her. Tyler only rolled his eyes.

"Doesn't mean anything," he mumbled.

"Oh, but it totally does."

-

"You're kidding me. You brought alfredo?"

You looked up as Mr. Samson made his way to the opposite side of your desk, pulling up one of the student desks and taking a seat. "I told you about it last night and this morning, Elias. It's leftovers," you explained, taking a bite of the pasta in your container. "I left a sticky note on the fridge too."

Elias' face scrunched up in confusion. "You did? I was in such a rush this morning I didn't even bother looking in the kitchen for lunch. I just stopped on the way here and got a sandwich. I didn't even know you made dinner last night."

"Well, you did go to sleep as soon as you got home."

Elias frowned slightly as he unwrapped his sandwich. "I was tired. The school concert last night wore me out."

"Were you so tired that you couldn't wake up on time?" you asked with a smirk.

"That wasn't my fault!" Elias defended. "My alarm didn't go off."

"But mine did, like it always does, which is why I keep telling you it would be easier to wake up with me instead of waking up later."

"My first class isn't until third period. Why would I come here before school and sit around for two periods when I could use that time to sleep?"

"Because things like what happened this morning happen," you stated, causing Elias to huff.

"Like you haven't been late before."

You took another bite of your food and with a mouthful said, "I haven't."

"The two of you fight like an old married couple."

Both you and Elias turned to see two of the other teachers you usually ate lunch with—Mr. Lopez and Mr. Scherr—enter the room, each carrying their own lunch.

"I wonder why," Elias mumbled, glancing longingly at your food as he took a bite of his sandwich, making you roll your eyes.

"Go grab a bowl from my cabinet," you told him before turning your attention to the other teachers. "And of course we do, we are married after all."

"Speaking of that," Mr. Scherr spoke up as he repeated Elias' earlier actions and pulled up a desk, "some of my students have been talking about trying to get you two together."

"Yeah, mine too," Mr. Lopez added. "One of them even wrote about you guys for their creative writing assignment."

You choked on your food at the same time Elias said, "really?"

"You mean you guys didn't know about what the kids were saying?"

Elias shook his head as he handed you the bowl, but you shrugged. "Some of my kids asked about him the other day, but I didn't think anything of it really. Just thought they were trying to keep me distracted so they wouldn't have to do their work."

Elias watched you fill the plastic bowl with the alfredo from your container. "What'd they ask?"

"Just what I thought about you."

"And what'd you say?"

"Does it matter? You already know what I think about you."

"Which must be good things considering she married you," Mr. Scherr joked, earning him a slap to the back of the head courtesy of Elias.

"So, what are you going to do about the students?"

You turned to look at Mr. Lopez. "Should we do something?"

"Well, I thought you guys didn't want the students to know. Isn't that why you don't go by 'Mrs. Samson'? And why you drive seperate cars to work?"

"Honestly, it was too much paperwork to change my name on everything so I just kept my last name and hypenated it," you explained. "Plus, it'd be a little confusing for there to be two Samsons at this school."

"And I leave later to get here, which is why we drive seperate cars."

"So, you don't care if students know you're married?" Mr. Scherr asked, a confused look on his face.

You looked at Elias and smiled. "Well, now we do."

"We should see how long it takes before they figure it out. Maybe place bets on it."

Mr. Lopez and Mr. Scherr looked to each other before turning back to you and Elias. "That's just cruel. Why not put them out of their misery?" Mr. Lopez asked.

You laughed, leaning back in your chair. "I'm a math teacher. My job is to make my students miserable."

[divagonzo]

@silver1986​ - writer and editor here.

DIttoing what @thedistantdusk​ said.

I sat for 2 hours last night listening to a published author (who is adapting one of their books into a screenplay and a consultant on a show that will hit Amazon in 2021.) I tuned in to listen and learn. I learned so much in 30 minutes of discussing the craft of writing than I had in a semester of college Creative writing. (Those pretentious gits!)

Lemme add a few (and I’ve been writing since the late 80s but RL got in the way until 2011.)

1. Don’t edit on the first raw draft. This also includes that if you get stuck, put something like [ADD SOMETHING HERE} and keep going. I promise it will help tremendously. If you have an idea, put it in the margins for later.

2. You will never make all of your critics happy. ‘Tis impossible. Having said that,

3. Some criticism, even if it sucks hard, is necessary to growing as a writer.***

4. Stay curious and be bold. Risk aversion will have you hiding in the closet anxious on any negative feedback. Ya gotta take it in stride and keep going.

5. A Beta/editor is worth their weight in gold. They are there to help make your writing better. Their task is to make it better, not make it their work. If you don’t like an edit, say so. I edit for various people and most get the sugar coating version which is needed - while one of mine knows and is OK with more terse and to the point.

6. Write what you want - not will make you popular. Popularity is fleeting and being a fantastic, technically brilliant writer won’t necessarily win any awards. I’ve posted fic that is book length, with daily installments. The first reviews for those were, “Update soon,” when It was already serialized into daily publishing. I’ve gotten slagged on by reviewers because how I wrote something was vastly misinterpreted and that (poop) hurt that the readers didn’t comprehend what I was doing. That’s a failure on my part, not theirs.

7. Don’t rush it. Yes, every writer loves that sweet, sweet validation. But sloppy writing might pass once in a while, people will be turned off if there’s consistent errors. That’s why Fanfic is known by the worst examples of it - not the best.

8 (to tie into my first bit) - stay curious for learning from better writers. Livestreams of writers who are talking their craft? Tune in and listen. take notes. Ask questions if possible. 

8a: Figure out your strengths and your weaknesses. Be honest about it and then if you wish to improve, work on those weaknesses. I figured mine out and have been working on them for years. 

9. To be a better writer, you need to read voraciously. Yes, as a teacher your time is mostly precious - but taking 15 minutes to read 1K from someone counts. Not everything has to be related to work or boring adult angst news.

10. If you don’t understand something, ask. 99.9% of fic writers will be more than glad to answer.

11. Want more? go follow @justawritingaid​ and delve their archives. There is a vast knowledge base there for you to absorb and distill.

12. Ask some oldsters if they’d read over it before you publish - just to say if it needs work or not. Consider them Gamma readers - for giving audience feedback.

HTH and my box stays open too.

I have officially started my first HP fanfic. Mind you it is not the first story I write. I write short stories all the time for school (a teacher here). But I gotta admit, it is daunting... One thing is to have a group of 7-8 year old kids laughing at your funny silly stories... And another thing is to consider putting your story out in the public... And yea yea... It is not done yet... And I didn't show it to anyone yet. But I am damn conscious about it.

Did it happen to you guys... When you where novices?

It somehow feels like I am going out to stand naked in the public's eye.

It is absolutely terrifying.

What about you, what was your experience?

@annerbhp @blvnk-art @breaniebree @bluestwitch @celtics534 @gryffindormischief @obsessedwithromione @petals-to-fish @reerox67 @thedistantdusk @velvethopewrites

[winchesters-imagine]

Nat’s 1k Writing Challenge!

In celebration of hitting 1k, I’ve decided to host a small challenge. 

Rules:

-You have a week to complete your fic, but if you need an extension, you can tell me up to three days in advance.

-You’ll have a prompt or gif each week, and I’ll accept anything except smut and stuff like graphic drugs, depression, etc. please x

-When you post, please tag me and use the # Nat’s 1k. If I don’t like it, I haven’t seen it and you may have to shoot me a message. 

-I’ll be putting together a masterlist at the end of each week, along with next week’s prompt/gif.

-You do not need to follow me, but it would be appreciated:)

-You can choose one of the prompts (gif, dialogue, or both) from the list below to sign up for your first fic, but after that, you’ll all have the same one to interpret as you wish x

-It can be the first part of a series - just not something like part seventeen if that’s alright - I won’t be able to catch up.

-Reader insert fics please - any character is fine:)

-Deadline for entries: 15th June x

-If you can’t put the gif into your fic (should you choose one), don’t worry - I’ll know which one you have if you put it in an authors note.

First prompts [not all mine] are under the cut, shoot me an ask with the one you’d like (kind of like a sign up I guess) x 

“Look, I might be evil but even I have standards.”

“Where is he hiding?” “The question is why the fuck is he hiding?”

“Can you please come and get me?”

”Well, I guess it’s time for plan H.”

“There is always time for a high-five.”

“Are you okay?” “If I don’t need to bend down, I’m somewhat fine”

“He’s going to kill you. He’s so going to kill for doing that to her.”

“A demonic sugar glider?”

“People always say they never thought they would be here but I absolutely did.”

“And I thought I was a bit weird. But you! You are insane!”

“So your hair knows kung-fu? Ha, that’s nothing! MY hair knows HAIR-ATE!” (You know, as in karate)

“One day, darling, you and I are going to conquer the Universe not just our world.”

“Wait, he knocked you out? Actually knocked you out?“

“Well, maybe next time you should consider that not everyone wants to be woken up at four in the morning by a- what IS that, anyway?!”

“Now, how exactly did your foot get stuck in the barrel?”

“I hope you realize what you’re doing. This forest never ends, you know that, right?”

“You can’t just kill someone and then make it all better by saying sorry!”

““But he always has a way of finding you.” 

“You’re trying to tell me you killed three men…with a microphone?”

“Hang on, are you a John Wick fan?”

“IT’S TWO IN THE MORNING!” “And?” “ I have a strict no murder rule until eight. Call me then.”

“What happened?” “Just imagine musical chairs with guns and a rocket launcher.”

“I’ve never felt the need to give anyone bad luck until I met you.”

“I…I didn’t want you to find out like this. I’m so sorry.”

“I hate it when I walk into an alleyway and there’s already someone dying in it.”

"I’m sorry I called you at 3AM. I needed you.”

“What do you define as broken?” “What did you break?”

“Can you please stop referring to me as ____! That’s not my name!” “Then what is?” “I don’t know!”

“Anything is possible, if you’re annoying enough about it.”

“When are you going to give up on this whole ‘evil’ thing?” “When it stops being so much fun!”

“You didn’t say to KILL the man!” “WELL I DIDN’T SAY NOT TO”

“Please put me down, it’s just a sprained ankle.”

“She will run, you know that. She knows the risk of her getting caught.”

“Uhm, okay, great to have you conscious again, but stay down so you won’t get shot,”

“Okay, okay I know I’m in trouble but give me a second!”

“I wanted to know why you stole souls, not your melodramatic backstory…”

“They know you’re coming. So just give up. Don’t come.“

“Where have you been?! I’ve been waiting for hours!”

“Look around, what is this?” “My room?” “No, this is pathetic.”

“Don’t ignore me. Please.”

“I keep getting the feeling that someone is following me.”

“Could I sit here? All the other tables are full.”

“You’re bleeding?!” “No, I’m frolicking in a field of flowers - yes I’m bleeding!”

“P-please…put the knife down.”

“It’s the weekend! Let’s hit the town! See a concert, redo our wardrobes, get drunk, start a crime ring, I don’t know.”

“Keep running, you’ve only got 4HP!”

“Could you stop leaning so far out? I don’t want you to fall.”

“Has anyone seen the outdoors?” “What the fuck is an outdoors?

“Why do I feel like this again, I thought we were done with this?”

“Look, as much as I like to hang out with you, I’ve gotta go and save the earth. See ya!”

“Have you seen?… oh shit”

“Two questions: one, how many matches do you have, and two, where do you keep your socks?”

“I know how easily fear crumbles people.”

“This is a kidnapping, not an assassination!”

“Stop ignoring me, I’m the only one properly armed to save you.”

“Not as graceful as I thought, but let’s work around it.”

”I told you to be careful!”

”You also told me to shoot my way out of trouble if I need to!”

“It’s going to be too late, you know. It’s always too late.”

“Hey, so, uh… I’m in trouble…” “What did you do this time?” “I got stranded in __ again…”

“And I thought I was fucked up. Goddamn, you need help.”

“Aren’t people supposed to grow instead of shrink ?”

“What an amazing fall. 10/10 points, bravo.”

“This is gonna get sad very fast, isn’t it?”

“Tug your skirt down, wipe your tears and load your gun. You’re stronger than any fucker here.”

“I have a shotgun, what happens next is solely up to you!”

“I’m not one for favors. Never was, never will be. But this… I can’t do this. Not alone. So I need a favor.”

“And at this moment, he decided to punch himself in the face.” “Alright, ‘Narrator’, listen: I know you’ve been with me my whole life, but you’re a huge jerk.”

”How many plans do we have?” ”I have four. You?” ”Two.” ”So between plan A and F, we either help the situation or fail miserably.”

“Wait, what? How did I get in trouble? I just walked in.“

“Yes, I agree, magic is pretty cool. But did you really have to use it for THIS?”

“At what point does this turn into a torture that you can be put to jail for?”

“At the end of the day, I don’t have a problem constantly watching over my shoulder if it keeps him save and alive.”

“Poughkeepsie.”

“Y’know, it’s a funky town out here…”

“I think I have something stuck to my shoe. Son of a bitch, he’s coming this way-”

“How’d you get this?“ “I sipped?” “Onto what? A chainsaw?”

"I think he’s staring at us.”

“Can you walk?” “Yes.” “Then freaking walk!”

“What-? Just give me the short version of what happened.”

“Do not ignore your pain. Ever.”

“Well now I have to change clothes AGAIN!”

“Oh you handled that real professionally.” ”I know right, I’m proud of myself”

“Open your arms.“ “What?” “Open your arms, I’m going to hug you.“

“I said duck! Why did you jump?!”

“Sir, that’s impossible, you can’t do that.”  “Is that a challenge?!”

“What are you going to do? Put your friends to beat me up again?” “You think that I told them to do that? I didn’t know that they were going to do that!”

“That looks like a deathtrap to me.”

“Whoa, watch it! Rope burn!”

“I’m sorry.” “No need to be, sweetheart. Are you still cold?”

“I thought you were dead.” “So did I”

“She has about four hours of air left.” “How do you know?”

“He’s still looking for you.” “What does that mean? Are you in trouble?”

”What the hell happened?! I though you promised not to lay a hand on him, no matter what he does!” ”Oh shut up. He started waving a knife around, I just made sure he didn’t poke his eye out.”

“Are you and God seriously fighting right now? And what happened to Satan?”

“It doesn’t matter how hurt she is, she’ll try to get up and fight. It’s her nature.”

“Now you’re just being mean.” “I think the word you’re supposed to use is… a tease.”

“Stay down! Don’t get up!”

“Touch my brother, and I’ll make sure that you won’t be able to move you hands an inch afterwards.”

“I know my limits. I know how much pain I can take before I pass out or can’t move. I know my body.”

“What if I press the big red button? Will I start a war?” “That’d flush the toilet.”

“Wake up, kid. I need you to wake up, I can’t carry you if you don’t.”

“I know you have a high tolerance of pain, but this is ridiculous!”

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