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casuallyimagining · 9 months

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When September Ends // part six.

Min Yoongi x female reader

Summary: Six years after leaving your home planet, you’re forced to confront your past… and the one you left behind. Word Count: 6,718 Genre: Star Wars au, friends to enemies to lovers, angst Warnings: minor character death, survivor's guilt, yoongi has anger issues, mentions of the death of an entire planet, anxiety, alcohol, reader character suffers from the burden of high expectations, mentions of torture (nothing explicit), mentions of needles, hospitalization, brief descriptions of scarring, brief descriptions of panic, hospitalization, an assassination attempt, a gun fight, murder

Notes: Thanks to @daechwitatamic and @the-boy-meets-evil for listening to me complain about this fic, helping me plan, and beta-ing for me; to @oddinary4btsfor the late-game encouragement and edits.

Playlist: All of the poetry in this fic has been pulled from various songs and poems. You can find all the songs (and some others) in the playlist that I made for this fic on Spotify.

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You finally get it out of Yoongi that you were in the medbay for almost a week, and from there you estimate that you’d been captured for four days. Which isn’t all that surprising, despite the fact that the days had blended together almost seamlessly. You don’t remember much of your time with Grafner and his goons, but none of what you do recall is pleasant.

They keep you longer than anticipated. You’re not sure why, but when the staff talks to Namjoon, he does a lot of frowning. You feel fine, though, or at least normal. Your breathing’s a little weird, and you can feel your heartbeat, which is never a particularly good sign, but it’s not anything new. But they keep you anyway, and Namjoon continues to frown.

While you’re stuck in the medbay, though, you end up spending a lot of time with Yoongi. Much of it is in silence as you get re-acquainted with each other’s company. Every once in a while, you catch him absorbed in something on his datapad, scribbling something onto the screen with his stylus like if he doesn’t write whatever it is down, there would be terrible consequences.

You’re bored, so you think, what the hell. And you ask him about it. For a while, he hems and haws, trying to fumble his way into a satisfying answer. But though he’s always been a master deceiver, he’s never been that great at lying to you. And eventually, he ends up explaining that since the incident with his team, he’s been writing poetry. It helps him cope.

Some day, he tells you, he might let you read some of it.

When you do end up leaving the medbay, they make Yoongi walk with you. You suppose it’s normal. You aren’t quite sure what state they found you in. Yoongi won’t talk about it, and Namjoon has only said that he was worried. So really, the medbay staff are probably just trying to prevent you from passing out in the hallway somewhere.

He walks a step behind you, and honestly, he’s so far away that no one that passes you would think you were even walking together. You try to get him to walk beside you by slowing down ever so slightly once in a while, but he only ends up slowing with you. You catch him once lifting his hand to hover behind your back when you slow your pace, but he never actually makes contact.

You don’t let yourself dwell on why it bothers you.

It doesn’t take long for you to get to the room Yoongi and Namjoon are sharing on the cruiser. It’s on the crew deck, not far from the medbay, though you do have to take a lift down to the appropriate level. You’re anxious. You haven’t seen Tee since Grafner captured you, and you have no idea what happened to her. Namjoon had said that he had her, and that it was better that you see her in private. But that makes you nervous. You can hear your heartbeat in your ears as you approach the door.

Yoongi doesn’t even knock, he just taps the button to open the door. It beeps when the biometric scan is complete, and the door slides open. You wince at the noise–it’s a little too similar to the door to the holding cell you’d been kept in. But then Yoongi’s hand does touch your back, gently guiding you into the quarters.

Namjoon stands from where he was sitting at the table as soon as you’re inside, his arms enveloping you in a bone-crushing hug. You hear Yoongi make a noise of displeasure in his throat behind you. He probably doesn’t even know that he did it. Though you feel mostly fine, the tightness of the hug is suffocating. You tap Namjoon’s tricep and he lets go.

“Where is she?” you ask softly.

Looking around the room, there aren’t many places they could have hidden Tee. There’s a small galley—table and chairs, cooktop, sink, refrigeration—and an even smaller living area. Two bunks are built into the wall in one of the corners. None of the rooms have any separation, except for a small countertop that juts out to create a bar.

Namjoon sighs, and Yoongi takes a step closer to you. You can feel the warmth of him on your back, he’s standing that close.

“I’m really sorry,” a third voice says. You hadn’t even noticed Seokjin standing in the corner, so focused were you on Namjoon and looking for Tee.

Together, Seokjin and Namjoon lift a lumpy-looking sack onto the table. It lands with a heavy ‘clunk’, and your heart drops into your stomach. You must react physically to the sound, because Yoongi’s hand gently finds your shoulder.

“I found her in the snow three clicks from the Talzi village,” Seokjin explains, opening the drawstring on the sack. “They must have dumped her on their way off planet.”

You don’t hear what he says next. It’s like you’re alone in the room. Just you, and Tee’s head sat on top of the rest of her parts in the bag. Silently, you reach forward and pick it up. The black metal head is heavier than you’d expected. You can feel your lungs start to tighten, can feel your pulse begin to speed up. You’re dizzy and too hot and everything is pressing in around you.

A squeeze of your shoulder expands your shrunken world ever so slightly. You’re hyper-aware of Yoongi standing close and the warmth of his hand on your shoulder. You try to take deep breaths, try to focus on his thumb rubbing small circles into your shirt. It takes you longer than you’d care to admit to get yourself under control, and when the fog clears and your awareness expands back to normal, you’re sitting on the bottom bunk and you and Yoongi are alone in the room.

“Where-” Your voice is shockingly hoarse.

Yoongi stands and crosses to the refrigeration unit, pulling out a metal bottle. When he returns to you, he gently takes Tee’s head from you and presses the bottle into your hands. It’s full of water, and you drink as he explains.“Namjoon knows someone that might be able to repair Tee. He and Seokjin went to make some arrangements.” He sits beside you, close enough that your legs are touching. For a long moment, he’s quiet. Then, you feel him take a deep breath in, his hand gently resting on your knee. “Are you okay?”

How do you even answer that?

You shrug to buy yourself some time. But then you finally just decide on, “I’ve never had to deal with it without her.”

You’d been given Tee shortly after joining the rebellion. You’d left Fest only a few months before, and by the time you’d made it to Yavin IV, you’d been a bundle of anxiety and stress. You’d felt like shit for leaving home, and suddenly, you were lonely in an unfamiliar place surrounded by unfamiliar people. Tee had been built to be a field medical droid, but she seemed unable or unwilling to care for so many rebel soldiers. You’d formed an unlikely bond with the scrap-destined droid almost immediately, and she became yours. You hadn’t ever dealt with your anxiety without her. Except…

“What about when you were home?”

Except Fest.

“I had you,” you say softly.

He makes a noise of surprise. You don’t see a point to lying. You were being truthful when you told Yoongi you wanted to start over again, and that means being honest with him. And it would be a disservice to all the effort he put in back then. He’d done so much to help you manage things–you aren’t even sure he was aware of it all–and even just his presence a lot of the time could help you calm down. He was there for you when things got to be too much with schoolwork or your parents or just life in general. You hadn’t even realized how bad it truly was until you no longer had him.

Looking at Yoongi now, though, it’s clear that he wasn’t expecting your answer. His cheeks are dusted pink, and he’s staring at his hand that still rests on your knee. “I can’t replace Tee,” he admits. “But I’m here. If you want that.”

His words warm you, if only slightly. He sounds like the Yoongi of your memories, the Yoongi that once waited outside of an exam hall for you for an hour with your favorite sweet just to help calm your nerves about how you performed. It gives you hope that maybe the two of you can move on, that you can be friends again. Maybe not in the way that things had been, but close enough.

He scoots backward on the cot so his back is resting against the wall. His feet stick out past the mattress. It takes a second, but you mirror his movements. The steel of the wall is solid and a little chilly, even through your shirt. You’ve always found the cold calming–a side effect of growing up on a planet with a colder climate. Yoongi’s shoulder is solid against yours, he’s so close you can feel his body move as he breathes.

It’s quiet for a while, your focus falling to the bag still on the table. Tee’s head sits there, too–you assume Yoongi placed her there gently based on how delicately she’s leaning against the rest of her parts.

“Can I tell you something?” Yoongi asks. His voice is soft, almost nervous.

You have no idea what he’s going to say next, but you make an affirmative noise. For a moment, once again, he’s quiet. You offer him the bottle in your hands, unsure of what else to do. He takes it but doesn’t drink, instead rolling it around in his hands as he chooses his words.

“I… I really missed you,” he says finally, and you can tell by his tone that he means it. “For a while, I thought you were dead. I just couldn’t accept that you’d leave, and I guess I just… I took it too personally when it finally sunk in that you had.”

“I’m sorry, Yoon. I just…” You take a deep breath. If you thought explaining it to Namjoon was hard, this was infinitely worse. Leaving was never about Yoongi, but in a way, it was everything to do with him. You pick at the fabric of your pants as you sort your thoughts. “I guess I just had to get out of there. It was like I was stuck in a blizzard, I didn’t know which way was the right one to go and the opportunity to leave came up and I just… took it.” You sigh and finally look at him. His head is tipped back so that it rests against the wall, and his eyes are closed. You can’t quite read the expression on his face, but you know he’s hurting. Thankfully, he doesn’t seem angry. “If I had stopped for five seconds to think about it, I would have asked you to come with me, but there wasn’t much time and I didn’t even know if you’d have said yes, so I… guess I just didn’t want to try.”

He’s quiet. Somehow, it’s worse than him yelling at you. At least when he’d yelled at you, you knew where he stood. But the quiet has your chest tightening. Your pulse grows louder in your ears, the rush almost deafening. You don’t think he’s mad, but knowing that he’s probably disappointed and hurt makes you feel like you’ve failed him, somehow. Your stomach is heavy.

“I-”

The door opens. Your whole body tenses at the noise. You’ll never know what Yoongi was going to say, because at that moment, Namjoon and Jin walk back in.

Namjoon nods to Yoongi. “He wants to meet us.”

Namjoon’s contact is a kid. Or, at least, he looks like a kid. He’s younger than Yoongi is, with a baby face and muscular build. Yoongi has never seen the kid around before–all Namjoon will say is that he’s ‘been away.’ Cryptic. Yoongi’s not sure he likes it.

The kid’s room is a mess. Mechanical parts are scattered everywhere. Yoongi has to brush a pile of metal shavings off of the bench at the table just so you’d have somewhere to sit. There’s a half-built droid sitting on the kid’s cot, and a robotic vice on a long hydraulic arm attached to the counter in the small galley.

Namjoon and Seokjin have spent the past 10 minutes re-explaining the situation to the kid, but he’s said almost nothing in return. He’s listening, at least, and nodding along when it’s appropriate. You sit beside Yoongi, mostly in the same position as the kid. The bag of Tee’s parts sits unopened–the kid hasn’t even bothered to inspect anything and you won’t even look at it.

Yoongi’s surprised at how long it takes for Namjoon and Seokjin to run out of steam. They explain everything, how it would be a service to the rebellion to repair Tee, how it would fly in the face of everything the Empire stands for to have the droid up and running again, how it would just be a nice thing to do. Their arguments aren’t the strongest in Yoongi’s opinion, but they’re trying to be sensitive to you and the situation, so they can’t really give a lot of detail. But still, the kid is silent, his hands folded neatly on the table.

It goes quiet in the room. The kid is stationed on a ship somewhere just outside of Hutt Space, and the powerful, steady thrumming of the engines is the only sound for a long while. Quickly, it becomes clear that the kid isn’t interested in helping fix Tee. He just sits there, doe-eyed stare taking in the four of you. Eventually, though, he hums.

“I don’t think I’m the one to help you,” he says, his hand resting on the fabric sack of Tee’s parts.

Namjoon starts. “What? But-”

The kid shrugs. “Ask someone else.”

And the silence returns. Yoongi watches as Namjoon fumes. He retreats to a corner of the room with Seokjin, their brows furrowed and their arms crossed. Yoongi can only imagine what they’re whispering about. If the two of you were alone, he’d probably make something up for you to laugh at.

He misses hearing you laugh.

You readjust how you’re sitting on the bench, leaning ever so slightly more toward Yoongi. “How long did they have you for?”

Your question catches the kid off-guard, and Yoongi can see his facade crumble ever so briefly before he’s able to build it back up. You tap the side of your wrist and nod to the kid. Sure enough, along the outside of the kid’s wrist is a scar. It’s a dull white against the kid’s otherwise golden skin, a few centimeters long and thick as a stylus.

“I don’t know what you’re-”

Before the kid can get any further, you push up your sleeve. You have the same scar–same length, same thickness, same placement–except yours is an angry pink. It’s healing quickly, but not quickly enough. The bacta patches could only do so much for it; even the medbay attendants said there wasn’t anything more they could do. Especially because you wouldn’t tell them exactly what had made the scar in the first place.

The kid’s eyes go wide when he sees the scar on your wrist.

“It’s funny,” you say softly, rubbing your wrist where the pink skin looks the angriest. “It didn’t hurt as much as the rest, but it’s the only thing that left a mark.”

The kid mirrors your actions, rubbing the scar on his own wrist. “Yeah.”

“They let me go after a few days. I’m not sure why,” you tell the kid. Your voice is quiet. It’s strange to hear you talking about it. You’ve been so tight-lipped in the few days since leaving the medbay, Yoongi’s interested in hearing anything you’ll say. “They didn’t even ask questions during it.”

Yoongi frowns. They didn’t ask you anything? That makes no sense. Why would they capture you and put you through all that just to let you go without getting any information? Granted, there isn’t much you could have told them. You were a major, but it’s not like you had access to the rebellion’s secrets. You knew a couple key locations, but the most important information was strictly need-to-know. So then why capture you in the first place?

Yoongi hates Grafner.

“Almost five years,” the kid admits. “It was my first mission. I escaped when the princess rescued the Alderaanians.”

From the corner where he and Namjoon scheme, Seokjin perks up. He, too, had been released in Princess Leia’s quest to release the Alderaanian people from the Empire’s prisons across the galaxy. Was the kid from Alderaan? Five years was a long time to be imprisoned.

“This droid,” gently, you lay your hand on the sack of Tee’s parts, “she was destroyed when I was captured. Or maybe she was destroyed after that, I don’t know. But she was… she is my medical droid. I need her.”

After a moment, the kid hums. “You said there’s blaster damage?”

“Mostly to the torso,” Namjoon offers, patting the front of his shoulder to show where the damage on Tee is centralized.

“It would take time. If any of the central components are damaged, I would have to rebuild them from scratch, and even then, there’s no guarantee.”

“We have time,” Namjoon says from the corner. “We go to a farming colony next, but I don’t anticipate it being too stressful.” At that, the younger major looks to you, and a hint of concern crosses his face briefly. But you nod, and it’s gone.

The kid is quiet. He toys with the fabric of the bag, and Yoongi can see the thoughts circling through his mind. Finally, the kid sighs.

“Come back in a month.” He sounds like it’s the last thing he wants to do, but honestly, Yoongi couldn’t care less. You want Tee fixed, and the kid is going to do it. That’s all that matters.

You smile, and lean ever so slightly into Yoongi’s side. He can feel you relax, the tension of the negotiation leaving you. “Thanks, Jungkook.”

Yoongi hates this new apartment. It’s bigger, sure, and he gets his own room away from Dae, and there’s more room to play. But it’s ages away from his old house and the other kids he knew. The new apartment is boring. The only person he has to play with is Dae, and Dae is more concerned with his work at the Academy, and his internship at the factory, and Sella, the girl that lives in the building across the street.

And Yoongi doesn’t want to spend time with his stupid older brother anyway.

Now that they’ve moved, his parents spend more time at the factory. Which means that Yoongi spends more time on his own. At first, it sounds great–what six-year-old doesn’t want that kind of freedom?--but he quickly grows tired of staying inside all day. The snowy season has just ended, and now that the weather is starting to get warmer, he wants to go outside and go on adventures.

But outside isn’t much better. There are other kids that live in the apartment complex, and most of them around his own age, but they all also seem to already know each other. It kind of stinks, but Yoongi’s mostly okay with sitting outside and watching the other kids play. Their games look fun, but he’s not about to just go up and start playing with them. What if they don’t want to play with him? What if they don’t like him?

It takes about a week before Yoongi gets comfortable enough to play outside. The other kids aren’t out yet, just a couple of the adults that live in the building. It must be their day off–the adults in the apartments across the city sometimes take turns watching the kids play because the moms and dads work so much. So Yoongi thinks nothing of it when the adults watch him as he slowly approaches the climbing frame in the middle of the grassy area.

He’s almost to the top of the frame–it’s round, and he wants to sit at the top to see if he can see the factory–when another kid appears at the base. Yoongi’s up higher, but he can tell that this new kid is taller. She watches him for a few moments, watches him pull himself up the geometric-shaped bars.

“Hi,” she says finally, pulling herself up onto the first level of bars. She’s got a bag on her back, the straps slipping down a bit as she moves. She adjusts them and offers him a small smile. Her front tooth is missing.

Yoongi waves. “Hi.”

“You’re new.” Carefully, she curls her arm around the bars so she doesn’t fully have to hang on, and she climbs no further.

“Yeah.”

A door opens across the grassy knoll and more kids run out. They wave at the adults watching the playground and yell for the girl the closer they get. They all stop short of the climbing frame.

“Why are you hanging out with the weird kid?” one of the kids asks. The others start to run around the grassy area and the climbing frame.

The girl spares Yoongi a glance. He can feel his face warming up. He didn’t even know these kids yet. Maybe they’re the weird ones. But then the girl frowns.

“He’s not weird, he’s just new.”

It stops Yoongi in his tracks. The other kids just shrug, and then they’re gone, shouting and laughing and chasing each other around the grass and the playground. But the girl stays. She hangs there for a while, arm looped around the metal bar, and she watches the other kids. After a second, though, she hops down, and Yoongi watches her walk over and sit under a tree.

Why doesn’t she play with the others? he thinks. They look like they’re having fun.

She notices him watching her, and waves from her place under the tree. But then she digs into her bag and pulls out a small datapad.

For a while, he goes back to climbing. He slips between the bars and dangles there, climbing from one to the other under the structure. But quickly, he gets bored. He drops down to the ground, losing his balance and falling onto his butt. It doesn’t hurt, but he scrambles to his feet quickly and looks around to see if any of the other kids saw. No one’s paying attention, except for maybe the grown ups, and now that he’s standing, they don’t seem too concerned.

He crawls through the bars of the climbing frame and for a moment, he pauses. He wants to go sit with the girl. He wonders what she’s reading, why she isn’t playing with the others. Before he knows it, he’s drifted close enough to the tree that she notices him.

“Why aren’t you playing with the others?” he asks, kicking at the dirt. It’s not loose–the ground is still a little frozen from the snowy season–but it gives him something to focus on that isn’t the girl.

“Don’t wanna,” she says simply.

“What’re you doing?”

“Mama wants me to practice reading for the Academy.” She holds up the datapad and sure enough, bright letters and some pictures cover the screen. Yoongi can barely make out a couple words, like ‘cat’ and ‘ball’ and ‘play.’

He hums and plops to the ground beside her. “I’m Yoongi.”

A gust of wind blows, hard enough to make them both lean a little to the left. They giggle together.

“I’m Y/N.”

Why are all of the planets cold? Yoongi thinks, pulling the woolen jacket closer around himself and crossing his arms. No one had thought to warn any of them that the planet they’d be landing on was so goddamn cold. Thankfully, the villagers had been kind enough to share their homemade clothing.

The small farming village is honestly impressive. Vast fields of food products–wheat and grains and vegetables–as well as for grazing for the animals–wooly, horned things that Yoongi doesn’t know the name for–surround a central village. The buildings are a wild combination of tech and primitive, with wooden and stone homes beside high-tech storage facilities and management sheds. Droids roll and walk and float through the compound, going about their duties unbothered by the presence of the new group of visitors, most of them repurposed from their intended Imperial tasks.

Namjoon and Seokjin have gone somewhere deeper into the village, taken to talk and negotiate with the village leaders. Which leaves Yoongi alone with you to wander around, look at the farming operation, and–the true purpose of your presence here–to figure out if this was an actual act of goodwill and support by the farmers, or if there was something shady going on.

You’re crouched next to Yoongi, your focus on a small, single-wheeled droid that has taken interest in the two of you. You listen as the droid speaks. It’s slow, methodical, almost as if the little guy has to consider every single word before it comes out of his artificial voice box. But patiently, you listen, nodding where appropriate and humming when there’s a lull as the droid processes. The little guy is telling you about the planet’s cold season, which it's just now slowly coming out of, and as if to emphasize the droid’s words, you shiver a little.

The villagers had given you a sweater, as well, that matched the one they’d given Yoongi almost perfectly. Where his is red–around the cuffs of the sleeves, patches on his elbows, around the bottom hem, and the hem of the hood–yours is green, but other than that, they’re made of the same mottled grey and yellow wool.

Something in the back of his mind makes a point to note that you look better in it than he does.

Somewhere in the distance, a whistle blows, and the droid snaps to attention. “End of day!” He exclaims, rolling back and forth excitedly. The pace of his speech does not match the enthusiasm of his movements. “D-4 must help with evening preparations. Goodbye!”

You watch him go in silence, waiting until the little guy has disappeared into the busyness of the compound. You stand then and laugh a little, shaking your head. The droid was polite, but it had completely ambushed you out of nowhere when the two of you were on your way to the cabin you’d be staying in. Yoongi wasn’t sure how long the droid had captured your attention, but the sun–small speck of light that it was–was starting to set.

“Come on,” you say softly, nodding in the direction of the cabin. “Not much to do until Namjoon and Jin get back.”

The village isn’t very big, but it’s spread out over a fairly large tract of land. The cabin you’re staying in is on the outskirts, on the edge of the planted fields and the scrub of the wild. It’s quite the image, neat rows of short, verdant crops right beside unruly brush and unkempt grasses. Cattle graze in the distance of the flat land, but they don’t come near the village in this part. The cabin is small, just big enough inside for two small cots and a small refreshing room. It shares a full outdoor room–with comfortable chairs and a firepit–with the cabin next door, where Jin and Namjoon are staying.

You take the time to pour a glass of wine for Yoongi and yourself when you get back to the cabin. You sit together around the firepit. It’s quiet, and for a moment, Yoongi feels the need to say something. But he’s not sure what, and the urge passes quickly into a moderately comfortable silence. You watch the village as it transitions from working into its evening routine.

Yoongi watches you.

Not in a creepy way. He’s not staring. If you looked over at any point, you’d probably just assume that he’s looking in your direction, not at you. But he can’t help it. He’s suddenly struck by the thought that this–this planet, this farm, this life–had once been exactly what he wanted.

When he was in the Academy–a stressed, angry teenager instead of a stressed, angry adult–he dreamed about a quiet life on a planet far away from the Empire. Away from the boring routines, away from the stagnation, away from the abuse and the constant monitoring and the highest of high expectations. He’d wanted to get so far away from Fest, to a place a lot like this. Quiet life, little farm, reporting to no one and responsible for only himself.

He’d been so stupid back then.

The pure, unbroken silence of the village at night is stunning. It’s so quiet, you can hear the winds whispering through the grass, gentle as a lover’s touch. It’s peaceful. Yoongi wishes he could enjoy it.

Instead, he’s sneaking around in the dark with you, trying to fill out the rest of the picture that Namjoon and Seokjin have started.

The farming village seems nice. Everyone has been kind, and from what little interactions with them he’s had, they seem to support the rebellion. But there’s no such thing as safe enough. Not when it comes to the Empire, not when they’re killing or imprisoning anyone who disagrees with them, not when people are suffering at the hands of autocratic demagogues hell-bent on keeping the galaxy under their thumb by any means necessary. So, together, you and Yoongi go snooping in the village’s archives.

“Find anything?” He’s leaning over your shoulder, chest against your back, so he knows you’re seeing the same things he is.

The light from the terminal is shockingly bright in the darkness of the records room. There’s only one window in the room, and almost no one is awake at this hour, so it’s not like you’re at a major risk of getting caught. But still. Yoongi’s nervous.

Thankfully, the village seems clean based on their records.

“Traveling merchants, droid sales, someone looking to sell a bantha…” you read off softly.

The servers track visitors to the entire planet, not just the village. All in all, Denebia as a whole seems overwhelmingly free of any Empire influence. Even cross-referencing what you know about Imperial activity in the Mid-Rim and the Western Reaches, there’s nothing that could even be considered aiding the enemy. There’s a forced inspection from a few cycles ago, but no follow-ups and no communications since.

Yoongi hums. “I was wondering how they got a ban-”

A soft beep outside the door cuts him off. You both freeze, heads snapping to the left to stare in the direction of the noise. Neither of you breathe. Yoongi can hear his heartbeat in his ears, can feel you tense in front of him. One moment passes. Then another. And a third. You let out a quiet breath. Yoongi’s head bumps into yours as he relaxes.

You exit the terminal, log off, shut it down, put everything back where it was before you’d even entered the room. Slowly, carefully, the two of you creep away. The door sliding open and closed sounds like a starfighter engine in the night’s stillness. In the distance, the bantha–the single bantha whose acquisition is documented in the data terminal–brays forlornly. Yoongi lets out a slow, deep breath.

“Hello!”

Yoongi’s soul leaves his body, tethered to the mortal plane only by a firm grip on his hand. His brain doesn’t even register the slow voice or the quiet, low-to-the-ground whirring of mechanical joints. A few heartbeats later, he’s calm enough to realize what’s happening. D-4 has found you, the big wheel of his little body rolling him back and forth excitedly.

“Why are you awake?” the droid asks slowly, bumping into Yoongi’s shoe.

A tug on his hand. A squeeze of his fingers. He spares a glance over at you. Something about you is wrong, your energy is off. It surprises him, seeing you so affected by being surprised. But he squeezes your fingers back and turns to D-4.

“Couldn’t sleep,” he says coolly, calmly. “Just taking a walk.”

The little droid makes a sympathetic noise. “D-4 and IO can walk with you?”

“Who’s-”

A beep–the same beep he’d heard when the two of you were in the records room–interrupts him. You take a step backwards into Yoongi, your back coming into contact with his chest. It takes him a moment to see what you’re reacting to, but then movement near the corner of the building catches his attention.

A sphere hovers into view. It’s shiny black, with lights and moving appendages. There’s a tube that kind of looks like a pipette–maybe for seeding? Yoongi questions–and a clamp with prongs that carry several small bags.

Suddenly, the scar on your wrist makes sense.

The repurposed interrogation droid beeps again, its lights flashing various colors as if to communicate something. The pipette arm extends as it gestures to the left. Yoongi can feel you flinch, can feel how tense you are as you stand stock-still in front of him.

“No,” he says firmly. It’s snappier than he intended, and D-4 shrinks back a little at his tone. But he doesn’t like how affected you are by the shiny black sphere. “We’re good. Thank you.”

He doesn’t wait for the droids to respond. If he offends them, he’ll deal with it in the morning. All he knows is that you need to get away from the interrogation droid, and that needs to happen immediately. But when he tugs on your arm–you’re still holding his hand, his brain makes a point to note–you don’t move. It’s like you’re frozen to the spot. Gently, he wraps an arm around your waist and gives a light squeeze.

“Come on,” he whispers close to your ear. “Let’s go. Just focus on me.”

Mechanically, you nod, and he’s finally able to maneuver you away from the droids. It takes time, but eventually, he gets you back to the cabin. You collapse onto the sofa, your focus somewhere in the distance. The dying embers from the fire a few feet away cast a ghastly shadow across your face. He sits beside you, a hand on your knee.

“Hey,” he says softly, an attempt to draw your attention. “Hey. Look at me?”

When your eyes finally meet his, they’re wide, almost wild. Seeing that droid has really shaken you up. Yoongi’s out of his element. This was nothing like when you were younger–back then, he’d been able to get your mind off whatever was bothering you fairly easily. Give him an hour, and he’d have you laughing, the stress and anxiety all but forgotten. This, though? This was panic.

In the struggle to think of something–anything–to do to get your mind away from wherever it’s gone, Yoongi’s thoughts go blank. He’s always been quick on his feet, good under pressure, but it’s also always been effortless. You were the meticulous planner. He mostly just reacted to things as they came at him. But now that skill seems to have left him.

So he does the first thing that comes to mind. He scoots a little closer to you and pulls out his datapad. He scrolls back, through his own poems, through his emotions, through his memories, to the beginning. He squeezes your knee, and slowly, he starts to read.

You couldn’t be the one–the one to love her. She dazzled you, but your eyes could never get used to the light. So you remained clothed in shadow, and you ignored the hand that reached for you. You ignored your own heart. And that is why you couldn’t be the one. She wasn’t just the moon; she was the whole sky, but you couldn’t see beyond the stratosphere. Your souls loved each other as much as any two souls could possibly love– but you couldn’t be the one.

As he reads, he can feel you relax a little beside him. At the very least, you aren’t as stiff. By the time he’s done, you’ve got one arm up on the back of the sofa, your head resting against it.

“Sad,” you hum, voice soft.

In the low light, he can see a strange mix of emotions in your eyes. You’re not completely past seeing the interrogation droid, but there’s something else there, too. Something he can’t bring himself to think about. He stands, adds more kindling to the fire, watches as the flames lap at the bark of the log when it catches. For a while, the only sounds in the night are the crackling of the fire, the settling of the log in the pit as it’s burnt. When Yoongi turns, you’re watching him solemnly.

“Did you write that?” you ask as he returns to the sofa. There’s a thoughtfulness to your voice, but Yoongi gets the sense that your mind has drifted to somewhere else.

“No.” He shakes his head. “No that… Kitt wrote that. She was brilliant.”

“You really liked her.” There’s something about how you look at him. He’s never seen this emotion before. He’s known you since you were kids, and yet, this is entirely new.

“She was great. They all were, but Kitt… Kitt was the best.” He chuckles, the poem bringing up memories he’d thought he’d buried. “She and Feeney were so in love. They thought that they were being sneaky and that we didn’t know, but god, they were so obvious.”

You offer a small, melancholy smile. “I would have liked to meet her.”

Yoongi nods. Kitt would have liked you. You were both planners, and you got shit done. Kitt wasn’t necessarily book smart, but she had a lot of life experience. You would have made a good team.

“How are you feeling?” He asks, clearing the thickness out of his voice with a cough.

“Like even my mind’s not safe anymore.” You say it so plainly, like you’re commenting on the weather.

He has no idea how to respond.

You sigh, the arm on the back of the sofa reaching out, your fingers picking a stray string off the shoulder of his sweater. “Can I tell you something?”

“Of course.”

You remain silent, however. Your eyes are intense as you watch him. You seem to be weighing something, as if suddenly some great decision has fallen on you, and none of the options are good. Yoongi doesn’t press. You’ll say it when you’re ready. You’ve never been one to be particular about communicating your thoughts–usually you’d just tell him something, and think it through aloud–but he’s learned that when you do put some thought behind how you say something, it’s usually worth the wait.

So he waits.

“When I…” You frown. “When they…” You pause, clear your throat, brush something invisible off the back of the sofa. “They never asked me any questions,” you say softly. Suddenly, whatever’s off in the darkness is much more interesting. “They just kept… It was a lot. I don’t think I would have made it without you.”

“Me?” He hadn’t done anything. In fact, he really wouldn’t have been surprised if you’d told him you blamed him for being captured by the Empire in the first place. He’d done nothing but yell at you. How had he helped?

“The mind can do quite a lot to protect you when under extreme duress.” You sound like Namjoon. “I’m… I know we got off track, but I’m glad you’ve been with me for this long.”

Your words are vague, but there’s something about how you say them that hits Yoongi straight in the jaw. He’s not entirely sure what you’re talking about, and yet there’s a sting behind his eyes. He reaches up and squeezes your hand.

You still won’t look at him, but you flip your hand so that it fits more comfortably in his.

previous | masterlist | next

ooh our first real dose of them acting like they like each other! how do we feel? what do we think? my ask box is open!!

our poem this part is ‘Be the One’ by Lang Leav

#yoongi x reader #yoongi #suga x reader #suga #min yoongi #min yoongi x reader #bts #bts au #star wars au #bts star wars au #min yoongi fluff #min yoongi angst #suga fluff #suga angst #min yoongi fic #suga fic #bts fic #bts x reader

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aromanticannibal · 1 year

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mha characters physical headcanons (does that even make sense idk im french). this is in absolutely no order im just popping these up as I go

shouto is blind on his burnt side, the good ol headcanon. his eyes is a very dull blue

shinsou has a scar across his face from forster parents putting muzzles on him

bakugou is hard of hearing

aizawa has a single tattoo and it's a cat sleeping on a cloud

mic has a shit ton of tattoos including but not limited to : a matching tattoo of a cat meowing on a cloud, a lot of clouds, aizawa's goggles and capture weapon, music notes and partitions of his favorite songs, his own hero name, etc

midnight is tall as shit, shes taller than aizawa. mic is only 1cm taller than her but she wears heels all the time so she's still taller. she loves to tease people about it

I know it's just a funky thing horikoshi does to his characters sometimes but shinsou is actually one of the only people in the show to have white pupils. people's eyes mimic his pupils when shinsou brainwashes them.

aizawas hair is really thick and curly, but he takes terrible care of it.

on the topic of aizawas hair, sometimes it floats a bit when he's flustered, surprised, angry, excited etc

shinsou's hair just does that. it stands on its own and it's terrible and shinsou used to hate it but he comforts himself thinking it kinda looks like aizawas.

midoriya and mina are blasian i am right

mina has vitiligo

kaminari has a bunch of lighting shaped scars. also he's south asian and brown skinned because I said so

this is literally just how I edit hori's sketches now lmao (cough cough @lunejump)

iidas legs are fucking covered in scars and he refuses to say how he for them

ochako's cheeks are naturally really pink.

ochako's has chubby muscle dad bod vibe kinda. she'll beat the shit out of you anyway. she's also super small and wears discreet platform shoes sometimes

tsuyu's skin is just straight up green. I really just want her to be more frog like lmao. she got frog eyes too. toad skin in places with the little bumps and shit. also she's autistic I KNOW I SAID PHYSICAL HEADCANONS BUT SHH

dabi desperately needs glasses. he also has terrible dry eye because of the whole no tear duct situation, so in general he just doesn't see shit. he pays a lot fo attention to noise because of that.

dabi's hair is very fluffy and thick naturally, but dying it (+yknow the burning) made it really damaged (its why it's spikier than when he was young)

toga has a bunch of vampire features, notably : glowing eyes, pointy ears, the good ol' fangs, naturally sharp nails, pale ass skin from being sensible to sunlight, etc. she really likes garlic tho dont get her wrong

toga also got tattoos at some point, not a lot tho cuz she started only a bit after joining the league. she has : a lot of hearts, a bat, couple of knifes, "stainy <3" (she did this one by herself so it's a bit wobbly). she wants to get tattoos that ressemble her friends from the league, especially for twice, magne, dabi and shiggy.

mic has piercings. obviously. he has nipple piercings (listen im just a man), a nose ring (he doesn't wear it when doing hero work), a bunch of ear piercings, and an eyebrow one.

when they were in high school, mic got aizawa to get snake bites. aizawa stopped wearing them somewhere in his 20s so they closed back, and mic is constantly trying to get him to get them redone.

midnight prolly has matching nipple piercings with mic honestly they'd do that

shigaraki's hair is surprisingly soft because kurogiri makes him take care of it. when kurogiri gets arrested, his hair starts to get more tangled because no one brushes it anymore.

fuyumi, rei and dabi have the same hair type (wavy, thick fluffy hair)

shinsou stays pretty skinny no matter how much he muscles up. he has a fast metabolism and struggles to take on weight

aizawa is so fucking hairy its terrible

mic's mustache is like that because it's the only thing he manages to grow

mic's hair is like the opposite of aizawa's. it's straight and stringy, and its pretty damaged despite mic's efforts to take care of it because of all the hair gel

bakugou has heavy acne on his face and back, which is why he takes very good care of his skin. he doesn't really care if people think it's ugly, he just doesnt want it to hurt like a bitch

hagakure is really pale because the sun technically never really touches her skin. her eyes and hair are a weird pale color for a similar reason. not like anyone sees it much though.

MOMO IS TRANS MOMO IS TRANS I AM RIGHT. she was able to transition early on thanks to her parents acceptance and money.

momo is a bit chubby and taller than most of the boys in the class. she's never shy about eating a lot, especially since its what makes her quirk work, and she tends to get really hungry after using it a lot.

jirou often gets overwhelmed because of how much she can hear. think of dolores from encanto she can hear a lot.

her earjacks are really sensible too, but she doesn't really have anything to protect them.

jirou's irises are a very bright red.

hatsume is blasian, she has pink dreads

her arms are pretty muscly from working a lot on heavy stuff. she also has a lot of different scars on her hands and some on her face from her lack of care for safety

concerning shouto, the carpet does match the drapes. he isn't that hairy tho.

shouto has a couple of burn and frostbite scars on his arms from training too much. the burn ones are older, since he didn't use his flames for a long time.

shinsou is the type of pale thats so pale you can kinda see veins under the skin. he calls himself a corpse pretty often. it's also why his eyebags are so visible.

mirko is probably albino tbh (this is 100% inspired by that one edit)

while bakugou's palms are always super hot and sweaty, midoriya's are very cold for no reason.

midoriya bites his nails and the skin around them, often 'til it bleeds, so his fingers are. in a state (im just calling myself out at this point lmao)

mic has heterochromia and is hard of hearing

all might's eyes weren't blue before he got ofa. I like to think ofa modifies the user's appearance a bit, notably with the eyes. all might's eyes changed so luch because he went from no quirk to mastering ofa.

midoriya's eyes are very green naturally but when he uses ofa a lot, there's a blue tint as well (think the overhaul fight)

kirishima's hair must be so fucking damaged man. his hair is naturally black but he dyes it a very bright color, so he probably needs to bleach it a lot. it's probably permanent dye too since he wants to keep it like that, and he probably dyes his roots often too. plus the hair gel. he probably went through the elastic hair pain

bakugou's eyes are an orangey red, while kirishima's are blood red.

similar to all might and midoriya, aoyama's eyes became that bright sparkly blue when he got gifted his quirk. they're probably kinda glittery looking. his eyes were probably brown originally

kendo has stretch marks and some scars on her hands from them changing size so often. it doesn't really hurt tho.

shinsou probably had braces at some point

kaminari has a tooth gap

sero is part latino. he has brown eyes also.

sero's skin gets sticky sometimes. he hates it because people think he's dirty. It's really just a side effect of his quirk.

because I'm trypophobic I refuse to think sero has holes in his elbows. his tape is probably a sort of extension of his skin, and the weird shape in his elbows are here to help produce the thing.

denki has an eyebrow piercing

shinsou's eyes glow slightly when he's using his quirk, but it's not that noticeable.

aizawa's eyes glow yellow (like in the manga because I love yellow). otherwise his irises are completely black. it's unnerving

aizawa actually isnt that silent when he speaks, unless he's trying to. he has a big voice.

mic is actually very silent when he wants to because he's used to controlling the volume of his voice. also, he's very good at doing weird shit with his voice.

similarly, shinsou is very good at mimicking voices and sounds. he struggles a bit with high voices because his voice is naturally deep, but he's good at imitating birds and cats. he can purr also because I said so.

im losing inspiration unfortunately. feel free to share ur headcanons in the tags or in reblogs (even if they go against mine it's fine lmao). have a good day

#mha #bnha #my hero academia #boku no hero acedamia #mha headcanons #bnha headcannons #midoriya izuku #bakugo katsuki #shinso hitoshi #present mic #ochaco uraraka

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goodluckclove · 1 month

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WIP Tag Game!

Whoa tagged again by the brilliant @ivaspinoza! Check her out if you're down for what I imagine to be some intense bloodsucking existentialism!

I'll do this for all of Songbird Elegies as a whole. I'm on book two right now - Blind Trust comes out June 20th!

Read below to hear some things about the origins of the series that I haven't actually said yet and probably won't say again.

1. What was the first part of your wip that you created?

Funny story! I hadn't written anything tangible for months since leaving my terrible copyrighting job. I was absolutely miserable. I ended up leaving my second job because of a medication problem and spent a week in bed detoxing off of Seroquel withdrawal - bad bad don't do that if you can help it. After that I fell into recovery and just had no idea what to do with my days.

The turning point was when I sent an email going fully no-contact with my across-the-board abusive parents. They did some awful things across the course of my life and I'm still spending a good chunk of time making up for their ridiculous medical neglect. I might need throat surgery because of them. Not great! But anyways, I sent that email and wrote the first 15 pages of Blind Trust later that day, sitting on the floor while my wife took a nap on the couch. It just came out. Wife said they liked it so I just kept going.

Three months and two data losses later and the first draft was done!

2. If your story was a TV show, what would the theme song/intro be?

I have so many Songbird Elegy playlists oh my God. It's hard to say, and the answer will change, but right now it's "Love Me, Normally" by Will Wood.

3. Who are your favourite characters you've made? Why?

They're all very important to me for different reasons. Scott is the one I tend to talk about the most because he captures a lot of mania and upbeat romanticism, qualities of myself that I value despite the obvious faults. Edgar is just as important, but they represent a lot of my current struggles and I'm doing a lot of healing and processing through them which is good but less - you know - fun?

Tenzin reminds me of my wife with her quiet stoicism. Katy reminds me of my older sister and everything she sacrificed to keep me and my siblings alive. She's more of a mother to me than my own mother. My sister is actually the first person to finish Blind Trust after I finished it.

4. What other pieces of media do you think would share a fan base for your story?

Disco Elysium maybe? Griffin and Sabine - has anyone else read that? The Witcher, but specifically the novels? Requiem for a Dream for later books. Tales of the City in terms of tone and character focus. Fleet Foxes and Hoizer and early Decemberists?

Good, warm soup. If you like a bowl of good, warm soup, you will enjoy Songbird Elegies.

5. What has been your biggest struggle with your wip?

Definitely Edgar's arc. Their experience with their metaphorical (or are they??) inner child and the abuse they've been working to escape and recover from has been hard to look at directly. Especially once I introduced Scott's mother, who's turned into a weird mix of the maternal figure I wish I had and the one I feel I could've been if I chose that path.

Yesterday I found myself writing how I wish it went when my wife met my parents, through Scott and Edgar meeting Scott's mom. The sharing of parental pride and affection despite potential embarrassment. It's a cute scene, but there's a lot of grief in there for me. I wonder if it'll show.

6. Are there any animals in your story? Talk about them!

Wilford Brimley is Katy's pet Persian cat. He is old and weird and a little fucked up. I had to edit his introduction in Blind Trust because it was six (small) paragraphs and Wife told me that was unreasonable (skill issue), but I can include some canon info:

He shoves his paw under the bathroom door while people are in the bathroom

He likes feet

Edgar sometimes shares little bits of cheese with him

Once he fell asleep in Edgar's lap but then peed in his lap and just kept sleeping in the piss

Edgar treat him like a weird cousin he has to make conversation with during holidays

Wilford thinks he's his brother and an equally fucked up cat

7. How do your characters get around? (ex: trains, horses, cars, dragons, etc.)

Cars mostly! Edgar has a shitty used car that's always close to breaking down. Katy has a newer car that's still used, but she takes very good care of it - I think it's a Fiat. I think Tenzin probably uses the car Scott's Dad left behind after he died, which is a vintage Cadillac convertible that Scott's Mom fixed up.

Scott is the only one without a license since he essentially has a magical dissociative disorder and hasn't yet felt safe behind the wheel. In Blind Trust he's taken every form of public transit to cross the country. I think when he was younger he used to skateboard to get around Bluerose.

8. What part of your wip are you working on rn?

I'm close to 40k into book two!

9. What aspects (tropes, maybe?) of your wip do you think will draw people in?

I have hopes that people will enjoy the tenderness of it. I'm like a reverse-whump ace writer, in that I've written a series that's aggressively pro-comfort and recovery. People start off in pretty sorry states and then make the difficult effort to put themselves and each other back together.

There's explicit ace representation in Scott and aroace rep in Katy (she doesn't know it yet though shhh). Edgar comes out as Agender and changes pronouns midway into the series, but still keeps presenting as androgynous/masc leaning. There's diversity in body types and gender identities in a way that feels warranted to me - Scott has Klinefelter's and grew up taking T, and he made a best friend that came out so she could take her E with him. Same goes with disabilities in prominent characters, though the main four focus on what I have personal experience in.

As a disabled queer writer I hope to make a series that tells a fantastical story about people like me that doesn't pander specifically to my market.

10. What are your hopes for your wip?

I hope people read it. I hope they like it. It'd be cool if I could talk to people about it. I've been pretty deep in the Songbird Elegy fandom for some time now haha.

On a more serious note I hope there's a market for non-sexualized romances that are still hyper intimate. I know I'm into it but I'm still not sure if other people are. I'd like to create more media about positive and fulfilling ace relationships, both romantic and platonic. I'm tired of people seeing that type of life as a loss. Any healthy companionship is not a loss.

I want people to read Songbird Elegies and think about the love in their lives and in themselves. All of it, in every way. Yeah.

I tag @ryns-ramblings! I wanna hear about your thing!

#writers on tumblr #writeblr #writing community #blind trust #writing #on writing #migration patterns #queer writers #agender #asexuality #songbird elegies #authors of tumblr

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very-straight-blog · 15 days

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All I knew was that there was such a band and that there was once a movie called "Sid & Nancy" and I didn't even know that it was so inconsistent with reality. I know that "The Pistol" is not perfect, but people were reluctant to this series from the beginning just because it was made by Disney :( And the series is really good. These costumes, the atmosphere, this editing! I really like the way the series was made And the fact that young people played in it. I treated Johnny as a fictional character, because I read about his real counterpart only after watching the series, and for me he was really great. The brightest point of the series. I liked his relationship with Sid and my heart hurt in their last scene, because poor Johnny :( The series deserved much more recognition and much more good words. It was really well made.

Fun fact - I haven't watched "Sid and Nancy" because I can't stand Sid lol, and yesterday I read that Johnny hates this movie because he thinks it romanticizes drug addiction.

But anyway - yes, yes and yes! I liked literally everything about this series. Color correction? Framing? Editing? Soundtrack? Acting? Costumes and makeup? Absolutely every small part of "Pistol" is amazing and it's just deeply underrated.

In general, I really respect the director, Danny Boyle, I love his "Trainspotting". He's amazing at capturing the atmosphere of Britain at that time, and for me, as a person who adores UK, it's just priceless.

Oh and Johnny! The fact that at first we see him as aggressive and slightly crazy, but then it turns out that he's a pretty vulnerable guy with a heart of gold? Who writes song lyrics and loves his mom? I'm not God's strongest soldier. Btw, it's very interesting to look at his image in the series, knowing some facts from his biography. Much of his behavior becomes clearer. God, I have to shut up or I won't stop.

#ask #pistol 2022 #sex pistols

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gerogerigaogaigar · 11 months

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Madonna - Like A Prayer

After establishing a persona of material excess and precision vapidity Madonna just went ahead and released an emotionally honest personal album. The fact that it not only works but ranks as one of her best albums is a testament to her skills as a performer and songwriter. Funky danceable tracks and slower tender ones mingle side by side without ever resulting in mood whiplash. I think that all of Madonna's 80s output has significant merit, but Like A Prayer is my favorite.

The Rolling Stones - Aftermath

Rolling Stone wants me to listen to the US version of this album. The US version replaces Mother's Little Helper with Paint It Black and cuts several tracks to bring the album's length down. I will not play along. I'm gonna review the UK edition. So anyway this album really hates women. It starts Mother's Little Helper, which berates housewives for having pill addictions and then goes into Stupid Girl, a song that just hates women for existing. Under My Thumb is about dominating a woman until she lacks any autonomy. Just wretched stuff I really love it. Why'd they write these? They're so unnecessarily mean. The Stones were experimenting with some psychedelic sounds in the first half but from Goin' Home onward they really just default back to being a wannabe American blues rock band. Btw I'm being harsh because you probably already know if you really love or really hate this kind of music, but for the record I love it. The mysogyny is so comically extreme that it genuinely makes me laugh. Stupid Girl could be an incel anthem. It should be.

DJ Shadow - Endtroducing.....

This album transcends everything. It exists out of time out of genre. Endtroducing..... stands alone as a human achievement that is only paralleled by the sublime geometry of Islamic art, the elaborate architecture of gothic cathedrals, the surreal beauty of German expressionist film. In case you can't tell already, I'm not gonna be normal about this one. The album comes from the hip hop and turntablist scene of the 90s with the ethos of plunderphonics and an atmosphere that draws equally from funk, soul, and R&B as it does from ambient, tape music and drum & bass. It doesn't sound like anything else I've ever heard. Hypnotic bass grooves will transition into frenetic drum loops and back before picking up a melodic element from three tracks ago and turning it into a new drum solo or bass groove. It moves so smoothly and with such deliberation. Every sound is irreplaceable. I don't have a singular favorite record, but this one has a particular Enigma Of Amigara Fault effect on me. Like this is my album, it was made for me.

Vampire Weekend - Modern Vampires Of The City

I don't mind Vampire Weekend, but they are little more than a generic indie rock band with futile aspirations towards art rock and baroque pop. Many of the songs keep up enough energy to not leave me totally bored, but they never really capture my interest. I'd be much happier if Ezra Koenig focused his efforts where they belong, convincing Netflix to give him another season of Neo Yokio.

The Who - Live At Leeds

There are at least four versions of this album out there. The original only contained six songs out of the 30ish played during the concert and the version I have is the 95 cd release that contains 14 tracks. The expanded version has some tracks from Tommy and a real nice version of B-side Heaven And Hell, but I will focus on the six original tracks, Young Man Blues, Substitute, Summertime Blues, Shakin' All Over, My Generation, and Magic Bus. I love the choice of tracks. Three covers and three older singles. Nothing from their recent album Tommy. And all the songs are performed so much rougher and heavier than their album counterparts. My Generation goes on for 15 minutes and includes interpolations of songs from Tommy and extended guitar solos. It ends on a seven minute version of the objectively lame Magic Bus and they make it kick ass. The who gives a shit energy of this concert is apparent and the fact they released this at all is great, it's one of the best live albums because it actually sounds like a live show.

Prince - Dirty Mind

Prince was so fucking good. This is the horniest album. Every song is about sex, even his breakup songs are really fucking horny. And what the fuck is up with Sister? What maniac would write that? What a legend. This is such a funky danceable album, but it's over so fast. You can basically listen to this and his debut back to back and that would equal a full length album. Unfortunately we don't get to see much of guitar god Prince on this one, but every prince album from the 80s is good so who cares?

Jerry Lee Lewis - All Killer No Filler

Oh fuck off. Jerry Lee Lewis couldn't maintain a rock career after he married his thirteen year old cousin so he became a mediocre country musician because that was the only crowd that would have him. So why the fuck would I want a compilation? He has like three good songs and then most of his career sucks ass. Here's an alternative. An album that definitely isn't on this list but should be. Mustt Mustt by Nusrat Fateh Ali Khan. Ali Khan was an amazing vocalist who sang Qawwali, which is Sufi devotional music, and Mustt Mustt was his first attempt to develop a Qawwali fusion style. This album is an amazing combination of traditional Qawwali and alternative rock styles. Don't listen to Jerry Lee Lewis, listen to Nusrat Fateh Ali Khan!

Coldplay - A Rush Of Blood To The Head

Coldplay are not Radiohead. This is so sad because they really want to be Radiohead. If you like this album then I'm sorry. But also you should listen to OK Computer by Radiohead because that is what they were trying to make here.

#madonna #the rolling stones #dj shadow #vampire weekend #the who #prince #jerry lee lewis #coldplay #500 album gauntlet

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penrose-quinn · 2 years

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Hi Pen 😁

I'm thrilled you rb the writing ask post! I was secretely hoping you would so I could ask you some questions 😳. If you're not too busy and you still feel like it, I'd be super interested in 6), 11), 13), 50) and 58) (I hope it's not too much, feel free to skip some questions if you want)

I hope you're doing okay, please take good care of yourself and have a nice day ❤💗!

Hi Obsidian 💕

Thank you for asking! Ohh, I’m really not sure if I have interesting answers, but I’m flattered that you want to ask me anyway!! RL failed me so I’m actually bailing it atm haha. Dw not too much at all, I enjoyed the questions! I just hope I’m not overbearing with my answers. They’re a bit lengthy 👉👈

Likewise! Hoping you always have an awesome day and take care!! (ﾉ◕ヮ◕)ﾉ*✲ﾟ*｡⋆

6. What’s the last line you wrote?

Turned out to be more than a line, but I’ll just let this one slip! This one is from GL chap 11, just a snippet between Shin and Izana.

No one ever told him that nicotine shouldn’t be something he was supposed to crave – he didn’t mean to poison you the way he did – though he would to his little brother back then and it spared him a few more years until he could flicker one by himself on the same harbor, the same shade of night. Someday, the Black Dragon embroidered on his back.

11. Do you write scenes in order, or do you jump around?

I never write things in order lol. I jump around so much that any poor soul who takes a peek of my notes will be so confused. I see it more as stitching up a bunch scenes together and then hoping it makes sense in post-editing. I'm sadly not organized enough to plot down what'll happen point for point. I go with the flow and what feels right 😔

13. Do you listen to music while you write? If yes, what have you been listening to recently?

Yup! I rarely work in complete silence in anything. My thoughts are too loud and it's hard for me to concentrate without music or some form of noise in the background. Currently, well mostly, As It Was by Harry Styles since I'm planning to use that as a header for the next chapter in GL. Somebody to Love by Queen because I'm thinking of Shin lol. Was even debating whether I should put this as the header at first. Ship to Wreck and Delilah by Florence + The Machine for GL!MC because nothing beats a soulful song about love and self-destruction. Hmm, a few songs from Metric, POWERS, and The Smiths in between. I'm sorry this is a lot of different genres 😅 but I usually run through multiple songs to find that specific mood for scenes.

50. How would you describe your writing style?

Oof, this is a hard one. I’m not sure how to describe it, though I suppose when it’s comes to my writing I cull out as much words as possible but still try - emphasis on try :’) - to make it vivid, evocative, and surreal in a sentence. I guess this comes from attempting to emulate Japanese writers and poets since they're such masters at capturing the right words while being so descriptive and subtle in a few, simple sentences.

Though I rely more on how people describe my writing because I don’t want to think too deeply about it haha. A friend and mutual of mine once described it as something that should be read multiple times because after every reread, they find new meanings to the words and actions of the characters, that there are these hints they have to work to find, just the 'blink-and-you'll-miss-it' nature of it. This comment always made my heart skyrocket ever since. That, and the stream of consciousness one from three respected writers (Hi Obsidian 💓) from three completely different fandoms. That one surprised me the most because all of you literally said the same thing and it made me happy :)

58. Do you have a favorite piece of figurative language you’ve written?

It's hard for me to cite a certain piece because I've already written a lot to recall something specific to be a favorite and I like my writing, even though I still think it's amateur. When it comes to figurative language, a pattern I like and notice is 'lost and found', death, distance, tenderness and violence, ghosts or whatever supernatural entity really, the act of bleeding, the act of devouring, and eyes that reveal more about the observer than the object of their observation.

It's the setting too! Seasons, surroundings, places, and even history/time as a way to convey the innermost emotions, sentiments, identities, and gradual changes of the characters and their relationships. Everything blends in so much that what's happening is surreal and a little vague which is which, what's tangible or not, is it really the rain or the sound of someone's heartbeat. That kind of thing 😊

#pen answers #i actually wasn't expecting anyone to ask me anything (i was following your footsteps in getting a mutual to rb lol)#i get excited over reading others' asks about their writing #not that i didn't get excited that you asked me 💕#thank you again for this!#writing

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novafire-is-thinking · 2 years

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Behind the Playlist - Transformers: Prime Edition (Part 4 of 22: Breakdown)

Link to the other posts in my Behind the Playlist series

✧ ✧ ✧

Some part of me wishes more of Breakdown’s backstory had been explored. There was potential for diving into his motivations as a member of the Decepticons. I tried to touch on what I perceived to be his less obvious journey as a ‘Con while still focusing on what we did see in TFP.

Intended overarching themes and/or qualities: Bold Fun, Battered Compassion, Brotherhood

My personal favorite(s) from this playlist: Ready For The Mayhem and Trenches

✧ ✧ ✧

Full song list and explanations under the cut:

Good As Gold by The Phantoms

I thought it’d be fun to start out with an upbeat song with a can-do attitude.

Ready For The Mayhem by UNSECRET, Alaina Cross

Similar to Bulkhead, Breakdown was made for shaking things up a bit.

Knockout by UNSECRET, Club Danger

I added this one as a nod to Breakdown’s partnership with Knockout while still keeping in mind his tendency to recklessly charge into situations without evaluating whether or not he could handle them. *cough* *cough* Airachnid

Anything by JAXSON GAMBLE

“Working hard / Get it done / Jump in for the ride with us / Making change / Having fun”

If I don’t consider the War For Cybertron game, I think Breakdown had two main reasons for joining the Decepticons: (1) His belief that said faction could bring societal change faster than the Autobots and (2) how much more fun the Decepticon methods seemed to him as a lower class worker who probably looked up to Megatron and other inspirational gladiators of his time.

‘Til Someone Gets Hurt by Club Danger

I could see a younger Breakdown realizing the brutal realities of war in this song. In TFP, he showed occasional hesitation in specific situations, which tells me he likely struggled every now and then to snuff out whatever compassion he may have had and use lethal force. Of course, he was still a warrior and would have done what he had to do to survive, but I’m convinced a deeper sense of compassion would have shown up without issue if he’d survived to see the end of the war.

Don’t Break on Me Now by Future Royalty

This is the type of song Breakdown might have played to lift his spirits and remind himself to keep going.

Fighter by Easy Mccoy, City Wolf

Without question, Breakdown dedicated himself to the Decepticon cause and fighting for what he thought was right. This song captures that well.

Come On by Clear Blue Fire

Another fun one in the mix.

Trenches by Saysh

“We'll take our chance in the trenches / Do what you can, you can't change us / We'll take our chance in the trenches / Watch us, we'll show you what change is

Can you see what we mean? / Just lettin' off steam / Try to hold us down / Hide in the dark / Not who we arе / Shame that you missed out / Tempting it seems / To do what you think / But wе got our own crowd”

This whole song gives me “Decepticon camaraderie” vibes. The healthier kind we would have seen early on in the war, anyway.

Til My Time Is Up by Future Royalty

A weakness of Breakdown’s was his difficulty discerning when an opponent was unbeatable and when running away would have been the better choice. He fought until his time was up, which was sooner than he expected, I’m sure.

Rebel Renegade by Tommee Profitt, Beacon Light

This song perfectly aligns with the deep desire Breakdown and the others had to fight against the corrupt and unjust system of Cybertron under its previous leaders.

✧ ✧ ✧

Notes:

This post series is in alphabetical order. Next up are Bulkhead and Bumblebee.

As I add more songs to the playlist, I’ll update this post.

#transformers prime #transformers prime playlists #tfp #tfp playlists #transformers #transformers playlists #tfp breakdown #breakdown #maccadam #behind the playlist #Spotify

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themiracleofteddybearmanifestos · 3 months

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Spoilers for Heaven Official's Blessing/TGCF

I've finished reading TGCF in record time (for me) and now idk what to do cause it was my hyperfixation and now that I'm done I'm depressed.

Anyways all that aside, since it's literally permeated my brain to the point it's rotting, any song I hear makes me think of it and here are my top few recent ones that I really love

Without further adieu, Songs That Remind Me of Heaven Official's Blessing:

1) Everything In You - HalfShy, Adventure Time. Lyrics:

You and me We got something to lose Boy, you got your dreams I got everything in you And I'll be there through all the reveries 'Cause I believe in you more than I ever believed in me Ooh, and I love you, love you, love you No, it's not so hard to tell And I love you, love you, love you Is it obvious to everyone else?

And maybe this is killing part of me But it ain't called love without a little tragedy

Explanation: Pretty straightforward, it's Hua Cheng's perspective. He's dedicated to the max. Though the intention here differs from the original context of the song in AT, it still applies. The tragedy here is not stemming from their relationship, but damn these two are poster children for tragic back stories.

2) J's Lullaby - Delaney Bailey. Lyrics:

Darlin', I'd wait for you Even if you didn't ask me to Tie a lasso around the moon And bring it on down to you I'd bottle the feelin' you give me And shelve that stuff for years to come 'Cause, baby, when your arms are around me I'd swear that I'm holding the sun I'd give you the sun if you asked me You could have all of the time You could have the stars and the trees When dividin' up the universe You could have mine You could have mine Darlin', I wish that you Could give me some more time To herd the whole sky in my arms And release it when you're mine

Explanation: again, very applicable to Hua Cheng's perspective. This song is one of the most intensely dedicated and heartfelt love songs and Hua Cheng is maybe the most loyal person to ever exist (800 years and not a single negative thought about Xie Lian, never a doubt in his mind of how much he loves him or if he should give up). Seriously, this song fits SO well I feel like to explain it would be redundant.

3) Little Life, Cordelia

youtube

Explanation: So, this one for me made me think of Xie Lian and the domestic little life he has with Hua Cheng and how much that means to him. This one isn't just lyrical, it's the whole sound and feeling of the song which is why I included it instead of writing the lyrics.

4) Slipping Through My Fingers - ABBA/Meryl Streep (both versions are good). Lyrics:

Schoolbag in hand, she leaves home in the early morning Waving goodbye with an absent-minded smile I watch her go with a surge of that well-known sadness And I have to sit down for a while The feeling that I'm losing her forever And without really entering her world I'm glad whenever I can share her laughter That funny little girl Slipping through my fingers all the time I try to capture every minute The feeling in it Slipping through my fingers all the time Do I really see what's in her mind Each time I think I'm close to knowing She keeps on growing Slipping through my fingers all the time

Explanation: This one's a lot different as this actually made me think of Xie Lian's mom. Seeing her son grow into a god and witnessing the distance grow between them. She was fully supportive and had so much love for her son, but he grew further and further away from her. This one gets me real sad, even if his mom wasn't super present in the story it's still heartbreaking.

And yeah, basically every song will remind me of the series ATM bc it's literally all that's on my mind but these 4 especially did and made me want to edit videos but I don't have that kinda time or energy or talent lmao. But the series is just.... Ughhhh it's such a beautiful story, even with any questionable moments/details, it's genuinely such a fantastically written series and GOD the love between Xie Lian and Hua Cheng is painfully beautiful. I don't love codependency but idec with these two they're both so supportive of each other and both fully want to be together at all times and you know what I also want them to be together at all times, they deserve it. I knew there was a lot of trauma since I first watched the show in 2021 and have been a fan, but actually reading all the books and learning everything is gut wrenching and heartbreaking and yet so beautiful and satisfying.

#heaven official's blessing #tgcf #tian guan ci fu #tgcf novel #Youtube

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tartheanmaid · 3 years

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why do no got edits but the super long ones on youtube ever capture the essence of the character other than ✨hot✨ or ✨badass✨ like dude when i look at littlefinger edits i wanna feel scared like this is some slowly creeping threat i should see coming but never will or when i look at brienne edits i want to see a true knight and a protector not just ✨braime✨(as much as i love braime it’s not all brienne is.)

#littlefinger #petyr baelish #brienne of tarth #braime #jaime lannister #got edits #semi rant?#ok to rb #yeah this is how i feel about petyr baelish.... he.... scares me in the worst way #like i made this petyr baelish edit the other day to aurora’s ‘#‘‘churchyard’’(that song in general gives major petyr vibes and actually scares me when i listen to it like my heart races when i listen #to it #anyways i made an edit to that song of him that i think captures his essence more than any of the ones on instagram i’ve seen #i can post it if y’all want ig

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in-the-name-of-styles · 3 years

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Need You.

Author’s Note: Hello! After answering tons and tons of asks, and explaining how Tumblr had deleted the second part “Please Stay” to my one shot named “Only If” for god knows what reasons. I had to do this for you guys. I stopped writing years ago, and but kept my masterlist open for you to come and read my writings whenever you wish to. Trust me, this was so effing difficult for me to do! but I’m kind of proud that I removed the time and managed it. but let me inform you it’s not the same, because I do not remember what happened in the original one clearly. I hope this is a better and hopefully more well-written (amongst my other writings *cringe*) version of the old one.

It’s not proof read. I haven't edited it, so I’m sorry in advance for the typos.

So, guys, gals and non-binary pals, I present to you (apology for it being light years late) the part two to your favourite little creation of mine “Only If”, with a new identity... please welcome “Need You”!

Do let me know how it makes you feel in the ask box or comment section. I love reading them. Happy Reading!

Word Count: 5K

Warnings: tons of angst with tons of fluff, sensitive harry???? (or do you guys call it sub!harry nowadays??) anyways it’s a cute!harry :P !

It’s been four hours, and you still weren’t back. Though it wasn’t new for you to go for a drive after an argument with him, you often came back within an hour or two. The blizzard outside was making Harry quite anxious. Even though the fight was extreme, he wanted you back safe and sound. He now realised how harsh he was on you. You didn’t intentionally leak the song. It was a mistake and it could happen to anyone, himself included. He felt guilty over the way he yelled at you; it wasn’t like him to react like that.

Suddenly, Harry felt the need to do something special for you. Though he planned on apologising to you verbally, he wanted his actions to prove it too. He made his way to the kitchen to cook you your favourite meal. He got a hold of his phone and switched on the playlist which include all the songs both of you enjoyed. the sound of the vessels clucking against each other minimised over the song playing on through the speakers.

A smile lit up on his face as he reminisced back to the moment when you were dancing to this song while making the two of you breakfast.

FLASHBACK

Harry rubbed his eyes as he walked down the stairs, his dimpled smile already making its appearance when he heard your voice blasting through the kitchen entrance. He didn’t know why you bothered turning the song on so loud, you were anyways going to be louder. He stopped at the kitchen entrance, a silent laugh escaped him as he leaned against the door frame and took in the scene going on in front of him.

“You say you want a good time! Well here I am, baby, here I am, baby” you belted out loud, cheeks turning red with the happiness radiating out of you. You’d decided that the whisk was your microphone of choice with batter stuck to it and everything. You’re moving those luscious hips which drive him crazy right to the rhythm of the song.

“Talk to me, talk to me, talk to me talk to me, tell me what's on your mind!” you missed a note but you don’t care. This scene right in front of him, he wished he could capture and watch it forever. Bruno Mars did bring a wild side out of you, and he couldn’t bring himself to be jealous of the multi-talented singer. He would give anything to see you like this. Knowing you’re the shy type who doesn’t enjoy too much of attention, getting to watch you like this was definitely a sight.

He walked right up to you and wrapped his arms around you slowly. You jumped in a scare, as you were lost in your own world. “Harry! You scared me.” You complained, trying to ignore the blush on you cheeks after you realised he must’ve been watching you from a far.

He nuzzled into your neck and sighed, while pressing a kiss there, “Hmm… I’m sorry, m’love. But you just looked so beautiful I didn’t want to stop you.” He murmured while pressing more kisses to your neck, then trailing them up to your jawline. “Y’ look utterly ravishing right now. Forget pancakes, instead I’ll have you for breakfast.” He smiled and went on to kiss your cheeks. His comments made you smile. He saw his chance and lightly bite the side of your cheek. You squealed and tried to push him away.

“H, stop!” you laughed. He tightened his arms around you and swayed to the beat of the song then went on to sing next lyric “Tell me baby, tell me, tell me baby what you tryna do!” he slightly lifted up your t-shirt and moved one of his hands under it, and muttered, “huh? What are you trying to do to me, baby?” and pressed yet another kiss to your cheek.

“Gosh, your hands are extremely cold!” you gasped. He then turned you around to face him. You instinctively wrapped your arms around him. The two of you smiled quietly towards each other, then he leaned down to kiss you properly. You shifted one of your hands into his the nape of his neck and the other went on to cup his cheek. He moved one of his around your shoulder and the other around your waist. Both of you sighed and bathed in each other’s presence.

“G’morning, froggy” you teased as pulled away first and smiled up at him. He frowned and tutted, then smacked your ass lightly. You always teased him for his morning face, said it looked like a cute frog. He rubbed the area he spanked and quickly pecked you once again before pulling away to look at you.

Brushing away the hair stuck to your face, “Morning, precious. How’re you feeling?” he asked, hugging you towards his chest. Let’s just say the rest of the day went on just like this. Him being needy for your attention, and you loving on him without any hold backs.

END OF FLASHBACK

Right as he was getting ready to plate the dish, the doorbell rang. He smiled, happy to finally have you home. He quickly washed his hands and walked up to the door as he rubbed his hand dry with the towel which was once on his shoulder. He buzzed you in thinking you’ll unlock the main door with the security code. But after two minutes of waiting and not seeing you walk through the door, he turned on the camera above his buzzer to see what was wrong.

He frowned when he saw two police officers standing outside his door. His heart suddenly started racing at rapid speed. He rushed towards the door and unlocked them. Coming face to face with the two sombre looking men, he tentatively asked, “G’ evening, officers. How may I help you?”

The two men exchanged looks and the tall one replied, “Sir, there has been an accident and we found an ID on the victim. Is this Ms. Y/N Y/L/N residence? we’re here to inform you about the unfortunate event.”

“I-I don’t understand? What happened?” he stuttered, his legs almost felt as if they were about to give up.

“Unfortunately, we don’t have much information for you. May we ask what’s your relation to the victim?” the other officer asked, and gave him an apologetic smile.

“Fiancé.” He cleared his throat, trying to calm himself down. He could feel his panic attack rising. “I’m her fian-” he shook his head, “Just tell me where she is please…” he pleaded and quickly put on his shoes. He took his car keys and raced up to his rover.

“She’s over at St. Thomas, Mr. Styles.” The officers had clearly recognised the distressed man. “Here’s her ID. We hope everything is well.”

Harry couldn’t bring himself to thank them as he started his car and backed out of the parking spot. He raced up to the hospital, and once he reached, he ran up to the reception.

“Y-Y/N Y/L/N? S-She just c-came in? I’m her f-fiancé?” He gasped out your name. The lady was busy tending to others to notice him. “Hey! Hey! Please ma’am just tell me where she is!” he was on the verge of weeping in front of her.

The old lady looked at him with a bit of annoyance, “Take a breath, young man. I’m trying my best here!” She walked up to him. “Now tell me, what was her name again?”

“Y/N Y/L/N!” He rushed. He couldn’t stand straight. Once he got what he wanted, he ran towards the elevator, up to the fifth floor. The corridor was busy and he couldn’t care less about pushing people aside. He just wanted to get to you as soon as he could. He found your door and barged in, not caring about the doctors around your bed.

“Y/N!” He rushed to your side, dropping beside your bed.

“Sir you can’t be her-” the male nurse tried to pull him back.

“I’m sorry…I’m so sorry, precious!” He cried, trying to get the man off of him and get back to you. “I’m here now, okay? I’m not going anywhere- GET OFF ME. SHE NEEDS ME!” he yelled pushing the guy away.

“Hey man you’re no good to her at the moment yeah? Let the doctors do their job!” the nurse tried to make him understand while pulling him back yet again. Tears streamed down his face as he tried to reach to you. He sobbed over your state, blood was streaming down your forehead, and all he wanted to do was protect you and wrap his arms around you.

“No I need to be here! Please let me!” he cried. All of sudden a beep brought his cries to a halt. He looked around frantically wanting to know what had happened. “W-What’s wrong?!” he hiccupped.

The doctor and the nurses around him started rushing around the room. He then heard those words which made his heart stop, “She has flat-lined! Someone pass me the defibrillator!” the doctor raised his voice.

Harry couldn’t believe this was happening. The nurse had enough of the unwilling man and pushed him out the door, “Sir we cannot help her if you’re being difficult. Please calm down and go to the waiting room. We will inform you about her doing as soon as we can.” and then shut the door to his face. Harry could no longer see you. The group of doctors, covered your body.

He slid down the wall next to your door and sobbed into his hands. Only if he would’ve stopped you from leaving. Only if he would’ve told you that he forgives you and that he loved you more than anything. Only if he would’ve let the argument die and kiss you instead. Only if…

Later, the upset man walked himself to the toilet. He caught his reflection in the mirror. He didn’t care about his red swollen eyes, his sweaty forehead and matted hair. The image of you lying on that bed yet again brought tears to his eyes. The thought of you not making it made him retch and he rushed into one of the restrooms. He dry-heaved and cried. Once he was able to breathe, he took out his phone.

Sniffling as he dialled the only number he could think of, The voice on the other side made him breakdown. “Mum I-” he couldn’t complete his sentence, as he tried to wipe his eyes.

“Harry? Darling what’s wrong?!” she asked shocked at her son’s rapid breathing.

“Y/N s-she is- Mum I can’t lose her. I’m such an idiot. I shouldn’t have let her leave. What if she doesn’t make it?” He wept while running his sticky fingers through his hair.

“Love, what-” she tried to ask him, but he cut her off.

“What if she…What if she dies, mum?” he cried and coughed.

His mother had figured out by now that you were not okay, and might be admitted in the hospital. She tried to calm her son through the phone. Unfortunately, she wasn’t near him and by the time she would reach it might not be enough. So she did the only thing she could once Harry hung up the phone, she rang up his friends.

Harry sat himself down on one of the wating room chairs. No one was telling him anything, he had no idea how you were doing or if you were okay. He was out of tears, and soon enough the exhaustion took over him. He didn’t even realise when he had fallen asleep until he felt a hand brush the back of his head. He opened his eyes and saw his two friends crouching in front of him.

“Hey buddy…” Louis smiled softly. Harry jolted back up, and got up to run towards your room. But before he could stand up straight Mitch stopped him. “H, they just came in here to inform us about her condition.”

“How’s she? Is she okay? Is she awake? She needs me, I need to be beside her.” He rushed. His two close friends, tried to calm him down.

“They said she’s stable now, mate. But we aren’t allowed to meet her yet, okay?” Louis stated.

Harry took deep breaths and looking at their extremely destressed friend, Louis pulled him into a hug. Getting the comfort he desperately needed, Harry started sobbing again. He was tired of crying but he couldn’t bring himself to stop.

“Everything is going to be okay, Harry. She’s our little tigress, she’s going to pull through, yeah?” Mitch ran a hand drown his friend’s shoulder. Harry nodded lightly and tried to slow down his heart.

48 Hours Later

It’s been two days, yesterday Harry was allowed to visit you since they moved you out of the ICU. Thankfully, your internal recovery was rapid, and you could wake up anytime. He was getting a bit impatient. He wanted to see you open those shiny eyes and look at him the way you always did, with so much love that made him giddy and flustered. These past two days he’s been talking to you, continuously apologising for his behaviour, and how he’s going to make up for everything that went wrong. You just had to come back to him.

“and then Louis got frustrated because Mitch was not answering him. But that’s Mitch for you, right?” he slightly smiled and ran the hand which wasn’t holding you hand, through your hair. “You’re going to hate your hair, once you wake up. You always like them a certain way, don’t you? But don’t you worry, I’ll help you wash your hair as soon as you wake up and come back home.” He stated and kissed your hand. He was silent for a while, just continued to run his hand through your hair.

“You’re going to come back to me, right precious?” he asked quietly, “Why aren’t you waking up, huh? Your froggy needs you to open your eyes....” he continued, as he forced a laugh out of his throat which had a huge lump in it. His eyes turned misty as he continued, “I hate it here. Seeing you like this is a nightmare. I miss you so much. I miss you calling me annoying little names. I miss you smacking me when I’m being a narcissistic little prick. I miss your voice. I miss everything about you, and even though it’s just been two day, I feel like it’s been forever. Wake up, baby. Please…” he pleaded.

As the day turned into night, Harry decided to stay back. He asked for an extra blanket and a pillow for his makeshift bed on the couch. He didn’t know why he bothered because he spent the entire night sitting beside you, holding your hand as he fell asleep leaning against it.

You could listen before you could see. The only thing you could hear was the air conditioner and someone lightly snoring against your right hand. You tried to move your fingers as you opened your eyes. The bright light made you squint, you blinked rapidly as your vision cleared. You turned to your right and saw Harry’s peaceful face sleeping against your hand. You felt the need to clear your throat, and your eyes searched the room for a glass of water. But the sound made Harry wake up from his sleep. He lifted his face and wiped the little drool from his face and the little amount on your hand.

“whoops, you’d kill me now if you were awak-” he turned to look at your face, and he had to double take. He gasped, almost falling off this chair. “Y/N…Oh my- you’re awake!” he nearly yelled. He pressed the button to call the nurse and then cupped your face going on to press kisses to your face, “Baby I was so scared. I thought I had lost you!” He laughed his airy laugh and looked at you with utter happiness.

For some reason, you couldn’t bring yourself to look at him. The words he said to you were the only thing swimming through your mind. For you time had stood still, like the fight had happened mere hours ago. You moved your face away from his hands. Harry frowned noticing this change in your mood.

“Hey what’s wrong? The doctor is on her way, yeah. Do y’need anything?” he asked frantically following your eyes round the room. He saw you eye the plastic cup beside your bed, “Y’ want water? Hold on I’ll get it for you.” He ran to the other side and brought the cup up to your face. You didn’t realise how thirsty you were until the first sip hit your throat, you started gulping it down quickly.

“Take it easy, precious. They took out the tube just yesterday.” He explained softly.

Once your thirst was quenched he kept the cup aside then went on to pull his sleeve over his knuckles and wiped the wet corners of your mouth. You moved your face aside yet again, he couldn’t understand what was wrong. But before he could ask you, the doctor came in to check on you. She did her tests and asked a few questions. She left as soon as she was done, and told you even though the injury looked worse than it actually is, you had take it easy for a couple of days.

Neither of you spoke for a few minutes, “How’re you feeling, love?” he asked quietly. You nodded, “I’m okay.” He came up to you and raised his hand to caress your cheek. But before he could touch you, your head turned to the opposite side. He couldn’t take it anymore, so he asked you.

“Will you please look at me? What’s happened, precious?” as he caressed your hair.

“Why should I look at you, Harry? So you can tell me how careless I am, or how I’m not trustworthy?” you rasped quietly. For a minute he was unable understand what you were trying to say. Then flashbacks from your fight the other night came back rushing to him. The things he said to you, and how guilty he felt later. His words had left a huge impact than he thought they did.

He took your face in his hand with very much to little force, he had to tell you this, “Y/N y’have absolutely no idea for how sorry I am for that night-” but you didn’t let him complete.

“That’s only because I got into this accident.” You snapped. He shook his head rapidly, he saw you getting worked up over this. You’ve always been a little firecracker, and you never failed to tell him when he was being a dick or to defend yourself quite amazingly, he always loved that quality. Apropos, he couldn’t let you hurt yourself in this condition.

“First of all, please calm down-” he started, “don’t tell me to calm down, harry!” you raged. He hated himself for smiling when you’re clearly very upset. But for the past few days he had to witness you lie there lifeless which had taken a toll on his mental state. He loved the fact that you were awake, so you yelling at him was more of a reward than a punishment. You looked at him sharply and saw him not taking you seriously, this brought tears to your eyes.

You sniffled and looked away from him to rest your head against the pillows on the raised up side of your bed roughly. Harry’s small smile melted away as quickly as it appeared. He rubbed the side you almost banged to the pillow, “I’m so sorry, precious. I swear I did not mean anything I said.” He pleaded and took a seat down on the chair beside you.

Right then the nurse which pushed him out of the room the other day and now was much like a friend to him entered the room with a tray which had a bowl of soup and jello in it. Harry smiled at him gratefully and took the tray from him as the guy set up the table on your bed.

“How’re you feeling, Ms. Y/L/N?” he asked once he was ready to leave. You gave him a small smile and said you were feeling better. The moment he left Harry looked back at you with a longing look on his face, when you refused to look at him he sighed and set the tray down on the small table and took a seat in front you on the bed. He looked at you as he removed the metal spoon from its cover, and then went on to remove the cover set on top of the soup. He blew light air on the spoonful of soup, then brought it up to your mouth. You refused to touch it. He sighed and looked at you pleadingly, “Y’ know someone told me we shouldn’t remove our anger on food.” He stated, turning your words against you.

You glared at him in anger for minute as he looked at you with a loving smile. “Please?” He moved it closer to your mouth, “You’ve got to eat it, I’m not budging unless you do, Y/N.”

Even though you wanted to stay stubborn, you were kind of hungry. So you let him feed you the soup. When he got to the jello, you refused profoundly. “But it’s the chocolate flavoured one! Remember the time we used to share one when I was here for my fractured foot? C’mon we’ll share this one too, if y’want?” he tried convincing you with his soft eyes.

“I don’t want to share it with you. Actually, I don’t want anything to do with you at the moment to be completely honest.” you snapped. You were aware of the fact that you were being very unreasonable and bitchy but it was his words that has caused extreme hurt to you. Your words hurt Harry, and it was evident on his face. He wrapped up the jello and cleared everything. The day passed, and in the evening your last visitor entered the room.

“There she is!” Louis came up to you and hugged you lightly, making sure not to hurt you. “Hello, darling. How’re you?” he kissed your forehead. Harry left you alone with him as he went to get the two of them some coffee.

“What’s happened to him? Why the long face still? I mean I get that Harry loves to pretend that he’s this macho man and all. S’ a bit ridiculous to be honest. Like who’s he kidding, he’s a puppy.” Louis laughed. You smiled at this.

“I’m still a bit upset with him over our fight. So I haven’t been talking to him.” You explained. Louis frowned at this and then sighed, “Oh love don’t do that... This has been very tough for him. Should’ve seen his state these past few days. The man has been a mess ever since the officers came to your house that night.”

“I’m trying, Lou. But I just can’t forget all the things he said. I was so hurt, I still am!” you rubbed your forehead, as it was beginning to give you an ache.

“He’s very sorry, Y/N. Trust me when I say that I’ve never seen him like I saw him that day. He just wanted you to wake up. He was just blaming himself, how he shouldn’t have let you leave the house.” He took a hold of your hand, “he loves you so much, darling. He’s absolutely mad over you.” He rubbed your hand, “A’bit obsessed if you ask me. If I were you I’d have him get that checked with a therapist.” He joked, you laughed loudly. He smiled with you, and passed you the water you signalled for.

“Forgive him, Y/N. He can’t even bring himself to go home. The only time he went there was to get some clothes, and to put the dinner he made for you in the rubbish bin.” He sassed. “and I know I’m speaking for Mitch too here when I say this, but both him and I could use a break from all the non-stop stress weeping calls we’ve been getting from him.” You gasped at him with a mock offence for Harry, and lightly smacked his shoulder. You were always thankful for Louis in moments like these. He was a great friend to you and Harry.

Harry came back with two coffees and passed one to his blue-eyed friend. He took a seat on the sofa which was against the wall, and the three of you, though it was mostly you and Louis, had a light conversation while the men finished up their coffee. Louis bid his farewell with another kiss on your forehead and a well wish, you thanked him and waved goodbye. Harry walked him out the door, and came back in a second later.

“Y’ need anything?” He asked as he took a seat on the chair beside you. You shook your head as you observed him fidgeting with the cuticles of his nails. He did that when he was anxious.

Neither of you spoke for a while. But the minute you heard a sniffle, you snapped your head towards him. You tried to get a look at his face, the tip of his nose was a bit red and he was now fidgeting with his feet too. He wasn’t crying but he sure was on the verge of it.

You suddenly felt an overwhelming amount of love for the man in front of you. You leaned against your bed and sighed, smiling a little. It’s pathetic how in love you were with each other. You couldn’t even stay mad at him.

“Harry?” You whispered softly. He hummed without looking up. So you continued, “I need you to do something” you faked a stern voice to play with him a bit more.

“Yeah sure, what’s it?” he muttered as he got up and rubbed his hands down his thighs, then finally looked at you. You looked at him without an expression and said, “I need you to come here and give me a good cuddle, a kiss too if I like the cuddle.” And then smiled at him lovingly. He looked at you for a second. You almost thought he was going to yell at you, but the opposite happened. He started tearing up and heavy tear drops ran down his cheeks.

You gasped and quickly leaned forward to take a hold of his hand which was near you. “Oh Harry..” You whispered as you pulled him near you. He the minute you sat him in front of you, he started crying heavily. You were so shocked yet you’ve never been more mesmerised by him. You quickly tried wiping his tears away and comforted him, “Honey, don’t cry. I’m not upset anymore!”

“I-I’m honestly s-sorry! I promise I didn’t mean what I said that day, Y/N!” he tried to speak while wiping his tears.

“I know, babe. I know!” you tried to say it properly but it came out in a laughing manner and tried to draw the crying man close to you, but seeing you laugh made him more upset and he pushed you away lightly, so you forcefully pulled him into a cuddle.

He told himself he’s letting himself be pulled because he didn’t want to hurt you, but it was actually because he wanted you close, so he went in head first. You lay down against the pillows and cuddle him against your chest. He went on sniffling into your neck and wrapped his arm around your waist.

“Harry why are you crying!” you tried controlling your laughter. He whined and pulled his face away, “Y’were so fucking mean since the moment you woke up. I didn’t expect it.” He said and hiccupped, thanks to the sobbing breakdown he just had. You pulled on your lips so you wouldn’t smile.

“Well now you know, honey. It hurts, doesn’t it? You were so mean to me too!” You teased. He nuzzled back into your neck, pressing kisses there which always made you giggle.

“I’m really sorry, precious. Honestly, I really am.” He said into your neck, yet producing another hiccup. You couldn’t control yourself anymore so you smiled and pressed a quite a few smooches to his temple, and inhaled his comforting scent.

“It’s okay, baby. I forgive you. I’m sorry for my foolish mistake too, I really didn’t mean to ruin your hard work like that.” You apologised. He pulled away and brought the hand that was around your waist to your cheek and said, “I forgave you a long time ago, but you honestly don’t have to apologise at all. It could happen to anyone, m’love. I shouldn’t have reacted the way I did. Y’know I made dinner and everything as an apology. But then the officers…” his tone dropped and he couldn’t continue. So, you sadly smiled and pulled him in for a kiss.

He sighed and reciprocated the kiss with so much love and passion that you couldn’t help but wrap the arm which around his shoulder a bit more tighter and ran the other through the back of his head gently. The two of you pulled away and looked into each other’s eyes, he moved the hair that escaped from your braid and tucked it behind your ear, “I was so scared. I thought I had lost you.” He whispered softly, and swallowed the small lump, “I missed you a lot, baby” he said and you couldn’t help but peck his cute pout.

“I missed you too, froggy” you replied. The pet name made him reward you with a dimpled smile. He nuzzled into your neck and whispered, “I love you.”

“and I love you.” You kissed his forehead.

“Just for your information, I’m not letting you out of my sight for a really long time.” He stated sternly.

You laughed but stopped when you saw he wasn’t joking, “You know I have to work, right?”

“Y’can easily take a break for a month or two.” He said, as he yawned and cuddle closer to you. “A MONTH OR TWO?! Have you gone mad?” you gasped, lightly pulling on his hair.

“No I haven’t. Try to get rid of me, baby. I dare you.” He laughed a scheming laugh. You knew he wasn’t joking. He tended to become quite paranoid and obsessive over you when situations like these occur. But you wouldn’t have him any other way.

“We’ll see, mister.” You said, and caressed the back of his head.

“oh we will, missus.”

The End.

Author’s Note: I really put in a lot of efforts on this one, so you guys kind of owe me *wink* y'all gotta humour my praise kink now!!! ;P

Love you guys!

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x-reader-theater · 3 years

Note

Inspired by the @katytheinspiredworkaholic Noir AU mood board, Spencer dating Hotches or Alvezes younger brother in around 20's-40's era when it was still illegal. Hotch or Alvez (who ever you choose) would be some sort of important name in the city so obviously the reader would be too, being from a wealthy family. So it is especially hard for the reader and Spencer to sneak around kissing and stuff when everyone has their eyes on the reader. But one day the reader realises that fuck the others, he is wealthy and so known that no-one dared to mess with him anyway so reader and Spencer would publicly announce their relation ship.

(sorry if its too long of a request)

This got away from me a bit, I'm so sorry. I also made a moodboard because I was so inspired. This was soooooo much fun to write. I love me a good noir AU loll. Edited by @mystic-writes

Moodboard by Me

You laugh lightly as Spencer pushes you into the wall right outside of your bedroom, kissing down your neck and sucking right below your collarbone. You chose to have your top three buttons undone tonight, just for this very purpose. You wanted to entice, without making it known that it was your intention. You got a few ladies coming over to try and talk to you, much to your brother's delight, but you rebuffed every single one of them. They weren't who your heart was truly with.

You moan as you grind your hips against Spencer's and pant out, "We- uh- we should get inside. Before someone sees us."

"Let them," Spencer says, kissing your neck more. "Let them see us. I don't care."

You push Spencer away, holding him at arm's length, before saying, "I do. I care. Do you know what my brother would do if he found out who I shared my bed with?"

You look away from Spencer, who sighs. "Maybe I should go-"

"No, wait," you say, grabbing his wrist. "Please don't. Just, hold me tonight?"

Spencer smiles and kisses you.

–

"Hey! Little brother! Come to watch the show?" your older brother Luke asks you from his usual seat. He's the only one in the club, but that makes sense since the sun hasn't even set yet. You walk over and sit down next to him, and he leans over, whispering, "Isn't she a vision?"

he points to the obviously very beautiful woman on stage, with dark skin and black hair curled beautifully on her head. She's wearing a white rhinestoned dress with spaghetti straps and you think you see her pearly white heels underneath . She looks stunning.

"She's not my type," you say, leaning back and listening to her sing.

Luke hits your arm. "No one is! I swear, if Ma and Pa hadn't raised me to be such a gentleman, I would be kickin' the snot out of you to find out."

You snort when he says he's a gentleman, but cross your arms and ignore it. "I do have a type. You just don't know what it is," you snort, and look over at your brother, who's frowning at you. "You're not her type either." You nod to the woman on stage.

"What do you mean? I'm everybody's type!" Luke exclaims and the woman glares at you.

You snort. "She keeps looking over at Penelope at the bar, making sure she's watching. She's singing a love song, but the only person in the entire place that it's for is your bartender."

Luke's eyes go wide, and you smile and slap him on the shoulder, while the woman finishes her song. You give Penelope a wink as you exit.

–

That night, you walk into the club. No one's singing at the moment, but you met the woman, Tara, back behind the stage in one of the back rooms that had been converted into a dressing room for her. She's going to go on stage later, and you paid her something extra to make the first song a love song.

You were good for it after all.

You haven't been keeping up with the family as much as you used to, but you notice your brother doing deals every now and again, and you have to step in to save him from getting his ass beat.

You take a deep breath and walk into the crowded club, the low jazz coming from the band on stage. You walk over to the bar and order a gin from Emily, who smiles at you and takes it from your fingers before you can grab it. She points at one of the tables where you see Spencer, sitting with a woman, ignoring her flirting. You sigh and thank Emily, before going to the table with your drink, and sitting down on Spencer's other side.

"[Y/N]!" he exclaims, a grateful look in his eyes.

"Spencer! Good to see you," you say, clasping a hand onto his shoulder. You squeeze it and he smiles at you. "Who's your friend here?" You ask, gesturing to her, but you don't stop touching him.

"Uh, this is… uh…" he starts to say, but the woman frowns at him when he doesn't say it.

"I'm Lila. Lila Archer," she says. While you're in Chicago, most folks around here don't have any sort of accent. She however has a southern lilt to her words. She's blonde haired and blue eyed, and she looks incredibly uncomfortable in here, surrounded by both black and white folks. There was also the occasional Hispanic person in here, like your brother, but they are few and far between.

Your brother owns one of the only mixed race clubs in town, only because he was adopted into the family as a young boy. He has the money as a non-white to own and run a business. Helps that his "family" is a majority white as well.

Your grandfather was sent to Chicago from New York to make sure the city knew the Italians still ran the place. But, he likes to pick up a lot of strays.

Doctor Spencer Reid being one of them. No one quite knows what he's a doctor of, but he seems to be a doctor of everything. Medicine, the arts, mathematics, you name it, he probably knows it. It's one of the many reasons you fell in love with him.

"Miss Archer. I've never seen you in here before. Is this your first time visiting my brother's club?" You ask.

She nods stiffly. "That's right. My father wants to buy this place, but he can't seem to put in an offer big enough. Says he wants to rid the city of it's filth and reclaim it for the whites once again."

"Well, Miss Archer, as you can see, there are plenty of whites here tonight," you say, gesturing to the people seated at tables and getting drinks from the bar. "And I'm really hoping you don't share the same… convictions as he does, because otherwise, I might just have to get one of my people to throw you out of here."

You make eye contact with Morgan who's sitting at a nearby table and he nods at you, acknowledging what you want.

"I-" she begins to say, before she deflates. "I wanted to see what was so bad, all the voodoo and evil devil worshiping he says he's seen you folks doin'. But, y'all just seem like good honest people."

You smile at her and stand up. "I'm glad to hear it, Miss Archer. I think you'll find we're a lot more human than everyone makes us out to be." She smiles at you and you turn to Spencer, holding out your hand. "Now, my good doctor, would you do me the pleasure of joining me for a dance? Miss Lewis is about to start her singing, and I heard it's going to be *beautiful*."

Spencer grins and takes your hand. You drag him to the dance floor, where there's already a group of people dancing together, swinging them around their bodies, moving and shaking and laughing.

The music gradually changes, and while it does get slower and softer, it is by no means a slow dancing tune.

You start shaking your hips and kicking your legs and Spencer does the same. He spins you around, almost forcing you to go out and in, and it's perfect. The melody is beautifully sung by Tara, and you smile as your back is pulled to Spencer's chest. He loops his arms around you, and you look up at him, smiling.

He's looking at you with a quizzical look, as if saying, "You sure you want to do this?"

Instead of answering, you kiss him. He opens his mouth and you slide your tongue into his mouth, capturing his mouth in a wet and heated kiss. When you pull away, he has the happiest smile on his face.

You look over at your brother, who has the angriest look on his face, and you raise an eyebrow, silently saying, "Just try to stop me."

#spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x male reader #spencer reid #luke alvez #noir au #criminal minds reader insert #criminal minds x y/n #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds #my writing #my work

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melwilson · 3 years

Text

from the sky | t.o.

pairing: thor odinson x reader

rating: fluff, angst kinda but only if you squint

warnings: a slight mention of anxiety. thor and reader being cute and domestic. i edited this at midnight so...i mean take it or leave it

“Zeus! Time to eat, buddy!” Your voice rang loud as you stepped out the door of your home. You whistled, eyes looking for the three year old German shepherd. “Zeus!” You raised your hand above your face as you stepped out from under the awning. The sun was just beginning to set, replacing the painted blue sky with beautiful shades of red, orange, and yellow. Sunsets like these weren’t uncommon in the Arizona desert and normally, Zeus would be back in the house before the sun would make its descent. You called for him one more time, but then you caught sight of his fluffy tail a little more than half a mile out. You quirked an eyebrow as you started towards him. As if he could feel your presence, the dog ran over to you nudging your knee before returning back over to where he was before.

“Oh my gosh,” you muttered to yourself. Zeus looked up at you and then back to the large man who laid face up on the ground. He was covered in dirt, grime, and blood. You dropped down to your knees hands hovering over his body. His chest rose and fell slowly as you racked your brain for something do.

You can’t just leave him here.

Like hell I can’t. This man looks like he just went to hell and back.

“God help me. Screw it.” You stood up taking the mans limp arms and attempted to tug him off the ground. He was hot. Too hot. And you started to wonder how long he had been unconscious in the Arizona heat. You wondered how he was still alive. The Arizona desert wasn’t kind to anyone. You had been living here for almost five years and there were days when the heat forced you to stay inside all day.

Letting out a grunt, you began to drag the man back to your house. Zeus ran ahead of you not even bothering to try and help you. By the time you had reached the house, you were a hot, panting mess of sweat and dirt. As carefully as you could, you dropped the man onto your couch, his hand knocking over the lamp that sat on the end table. You jumped at the sound, cringing at the broken glass you would have to clean up. Right now, the bruised man in front of you had your attention. Had he not looked like he had fought a war by himself, you would have definitely admired how attractive the blonde really was. But now was not the time. You grabbed your first aid kit from the kitchen before returning to the living room.

“What in the world is this man wearing?” You said to yourself. It wasn’t until now that you noticed the black and silver armor that covered the blonde’s broad torso and shoulders. Remnants of a red cape were attached to the back. You weren’t sure how long it took you to the get the armor off, but when you did you were sweating again. There was a large gash that ran the length of his torso. He was no longer bleeding, but the skin around it was red, puffy, and bruised dark shades of purple. In fact, multiple bruises littered a deep contrast against his tan skin. Your fingers grazed the area around the tattered skin gently before grabbing the alcohol. You cleansed the skin thoroughly before grabbing the tweezers and pulling out a few small rocks that were lodged in the torn skin. You cleansed the wound again before picking up the arnica. It’s a homeopathic herb that helps with pain and bruising. You took the gel and rubbed it on the discolored skin on his chest and around the wound. God, he was toned. Actually he was more than tone. His body looked like it had been carved from the gods themselves.

“Get it together, Y/n. There’s a random man in your living room.” After wiping the dirt from his face, you wiped the dust from your hands and grabbed a blanket to cover him with. Zeus nudged your knee, his brown eyes looking between you and the unknown human on your couch. You scratched behind his ear, tugging lightly on his collar. “Let’s go, boy.”

The next morning, you were stirred awake by the sunlight pouring in through your windows. The moment of peace didn’t last long before Zeus’s barking filled the small home. You jumped out of bed and ran to the living room being met with a very defensive Zeus and an equally as defensive blonde. He was sitting up straight, one arm around his waist. Once he saw you, he stood up swiftly, stumbling slightly and wincing as he ran clumsily into the wall. His eyes raked over your frame bouncing between you and the dog that had moved next to your feet.

“Who the hell are you?” His voice was a deep rumble that sent a wave of heat through your body. His stare was harsh as he awaited your answer.

“The woman who found in the middle of the desert,” you shot back. The blonde watched as you crossed your arms over your chest jutting out your hip. “Who the hell are you?” You struggled to hold his stare, his broad chest heaving as he caught his breath.

“I don’t have time for this,” he muttered. He tore through the bandages that had taken nearly thirty minutes to wrap. “Where’s my armor?” His question came out more as a command as he took a step toward you.

You stuck out a hand, coming in contact with his chest. “Slow down, big guy. You’re not going anywhere. That giant gash is gonna get infected the moment you step outside. Take a seat.” You nodded to the couch holding his blue eyes.

He took a step back eyes glancing down on the large cut that ran the length of his stomach. Deciding that you were probably right, he sat down on the brown leather watching as you took out the white bandage from the medkit. He watched intently as you began to re-wrap his torso visibly shivering from the graze of your finger tips. “Thank you.” His voice was as soft as his eyes. You could tell he was genuine as you gently placed two pats to his side signaling you were done.

“You’re welcome.” You stood up placing the medkit back in the kitchen. “I’m glad you’re not dead on my couch.”

The no-named blonde raised an eyebrow. “You expected me to be dead?”

You scoffed. “I thought you were dead when Zeus found you. You’d been laying in this heat for only God knows how long and had a wound that large. You shouldn’t be alive.” You paused. “How’d you end up in Arizona anyway and why were you dressed the way that you were? Comic-Con is usually in Cali.”

He tilted his head to the side, a questioning look on his face. “Comic Con? I do not know of such thing. And I do not know how I ended up back on Earth.”

“What do you mean, ‘back on Earth?’ Y-you’re from outer space?”

A small smile tugged at the mans lips at your confused state. “I’m from Asgard of the nine realms.” Realization and shock covered your face. No wonder he was so...perfect. You suddenly became aware of the over-sized tee shirt and shorts you were wearing and the fact that you probably looked rough.

You swallowed. “Oh. I’m from America of the Earth.”

The blonde laughed. The sound booming and loud. “It’s a pleasure to meet you...”

“Y/n,” you finished quickly. “And lemme guess. You’re the god of thunder?”

“Thor,” he confirmed, “You know who I am?”

You rolled your eyes. “The whole world knows who you are, god of thunder.” You dropped his gaze, fingers fiddling with the hem of your shirt. “I’m going to get dressed. I can find some new clothes and you can use the shower and clean up if you want.”

The giant man stood up following you to your room. You suddenly became all too aware of his presence in your room. In your space. You hadn’t been this close to a man in years. Entering your closet, you spotted some of your dad’s old tee shirts that you had “borrowed” when you moved. There was also a pair of joggers that would have to work until you went and got him more clothes.

“Here,” you said softly. “These will have to do for now. The other shower is in the guest bedroom. Down the hall on your left.”

He sent you a small smile, his frame towering over you. “Thank you, Y/n. Your kindness has not gone unnoticed. I am in your debt.”

You shook your head pushing him out of your room. “You don’t owe me anything, god of thunder. Just go shower.”

Thor was never unaware of his surroundings and never taken by surprise. But he was, however, confused on how he woke up in a mortal’s home in the middle of nowhere. He was taken aback by your kindness and willingness to let a stranger stay in your home. The moment he laid on eyes on you, he was captured by your beauty and the strength in your eyes.

He let his guard down.

You made him comfortable and he had only known you for all of twenty minutes.

He exited the bathroom, the smell of what he knew as bacon and eggs giving him a sense of home. He had missed Midgard. His plans to return were delayed by an unexpected rift between the nine realms. He didn’t remember anything or anyone who would have had the power to send him back, but he’s glad that they did. Because now he stands at the entrance to your kitchen, watching as you hum softly to a song he knew as Bennie and The Jets. Stark’s doing, of course.

“You just gonna stand there?” You turned around quickly, a smirk playing on your lips.

“I didn’t know that you were aware of my presence?”

You opened the door to the refrigerator to grab the orange juice. “You aren’t exactly quiet, god of thunder. You should eat while the food is hot. After you’re done we can go get you some clothes that fit.”

“There will be no need for the purchasing of more clothes. I will be returning promptly to Asgard.”

You placed a hand on your hip. “You need to heal fully before you leave to do whatever fighting you so promptly have to finish. I’m guessing it won’t be too long. You can stay here until you are well enough to fight again.”

“I no longer want to cause you any more trouble or risk your safety.”

“Thor.” You caught his attention at the mention of his name. “I don’t think my safety is at risk here. And you’re not causing me any trouble. In fact, this is probably the most exciting thing that’s happened to me all year. So just...stay.”

Over the next few days, you grew quite fond of the god of thunder. He slept on the couch, even though you said multiple times he could make himself comfortable in the guest bedroom. He helped around the house- cleaning up his own messes, taking Zeus out, he even offered to cook breakfast and dinner. You took him to the nearest clothing store, bought him a few plain colored tees and sweat shorts to keep him cool in the heat. You continued to change his bandages everyday though he insisted he could do it himself. Neither of you really wanted to take up on his offer. He enjoyed the feeling of your fingers grazing against his skin. However, the gash was healing faster than anticipated. The day before, you watched in awe as he summoned Mjolnir from wherever it had landed in the desert. You both knew it wouldn’t be long before he was back off to Asgard. That’s why you were soaking up all the time you had with the unexpected visitor. Thor brought an atmosphere of warmth and domesticity to your home that you’d never felt before. You enjoyed having the company of another person in your usually dull home.

Tonight, the two of you enjoyed Chinese takeout on the back porch. A couple of beers sat on next to you as you sat in silence.

“Lemme braid your hair.”

Thor glanced over at you. “What?”

“I would like to braid your hair,” you said again. “Please. It’ll look good, I promise.”

Thor’s blue eyes narrowed at you. “I’ve let no mortal touch my hair.”

You crossed your arms over your chest holding his stare. “Well, I am not any mortal. I happen to be the mortal who saved your life.”

“I would have survived regardless,” Thor shrugged, “but I understand your point.” He stood from his seat and settled himself on the ground between your legs, Zeus settling down next to him. “Be gentle.”

You chuckled taking his hair out his usual hair tie. You raked your hands gently through his hair before separating the hair into two sections. He hummed softly as you began to start a french braid. As you tied off the first side with a rubber band he spoke.

“How come you live out here alone?”

You sighed dropping your hands and Thor grunted in protest. “I don’t know. I’ve always been kinda on my own. After high school I decided that there was nothing left for me in my small hometown. I got a job offer here and went for it.”

“There’s never been anyone?”

You laughed softly. “No. Just me and Zeus until you stumbled along. My parents visit every now and then, but other than that I’m on own. S’not so bad. Arizona is beautiful. Good people, beautiful sunsets, and it’s warm year around. Perfect for me someone like me.”

“Like you?”

“You ask a lot of questions, god of thunder.” You finished the last braid tying it off securely. You placed both hands on Thor’s shoulders squeezing lightly. “All done.” He didn’t move. He stayed put between your legs squeezing your calves. “What’s wrong?”

Thor sucked in sharp breath. “I have to leave soon. Asgard, they need me.” He turned around placing his hands on your thighs. “Thank you for everything, Y/n. I’m still in your debt.”

It was a faint rustling in the living room that woke you up. Your eyes narrowed at the clock next to your bed. 5:37 a.m.

“You’re leaving? Without saying goodbye?” Your bottom lip was tugged between your teeth as you leaned against the living room wall. Thor had wanted to slip out quickly and quietly, but of course, you were a light sleeper. Even from across the room, he could see the tears threatening to fall.

“Don’t cry, dove.” His armor, washed and mended, thanks to you, engulfed his torso. His hands rested gently against your neck, thumbs rubbing tenderly at the smooth skin of your jaw.

“I don’t want you to go.” Your voice was shaky as you met Thor’s eyes. Your words didn’t do justice the way your heart was beginning to break and the anxiety that bubbling up inside of you. You did not want to be alone again. Not after knowing what it was like to be with someone who appreciated you. Someone who showed you that having the right person around wasn’t so bad.

The blonde placed the sweetest, most gentle kiss to your forehead. The gesture only made your tears fall faster. “I’ll be home soon, love.” Home. Home with you. The woman he had unknowingly fallen in love within the two weeks he had known you. “I promise.”

As far as promises go, you weren’t sure if Thor’s would ever be fulfilled. It had been nearly a month since he left you standing on your back porch in the middle of the night. You cried most of the night, Zeus cuddled into your side. Never once did you think you would be this distraught over a man. He was on your mind every second of every damn day and you hated it. You hated how you could hear his booming laugh and could see that infectious smile was plastered in the back of your mind. You missed the late night talks you would entertain almost every night, only the stars around you. He was easy to talk to. He would listen, never pushed you to share anything, and then he would share about his adventures across the galaxy- fighting space monsters, waging wars, getting stabbed by a snake that was actually his brother.

Even Zeus was starting to miss the presence of the Asgardian. He would sit outside, eyes towards the sky, much like tonight. It was late. You should have been in bed, but you hadn’t been getting much sleep these days. The German shepherd sat your feet, the fire a few feet away casting shadows that danced across your face. You sighed taking a sip of the beer in your hand. The sky had never been this clear before and you had never felt so lonely. The stars lit up the sky in a beautiful array of constellations and formations bringing the remnants of a child-like wonder- a longing to understand what was beyond that dark abyss. And beyond that dark abyss was the home of a man you saw a future with. A man who changed your perspective on being alone. A man who had yet to return.

With a sad quirk of your lips, you stood up, eyes roaming the expanse above you once again and you said, “Come back to me, god of thunder.”

You tossed and turned for hours. At first you were too hot, then you realized you really needed a new mattress, then you realized it was no use in just laying there. But before you could swing your legs over the side of the bed, you were blinded by the brightest light. Rays of pink, blue, gold, orange, green, and purple shone magnificently through your bedroom window. You were out of the bed in an instant, feet carrying you to the back door before you could make any rational decisions. Zeus was outside in an instant, running wildly toward the shadow of a man. You, however, were rooted in place eyes narrowed as a sense of familiarity overcame you. The blonde stopped a few feet away from you, eyes locked with yours.

“I know that it’s been longer than expe-“

“I don’t care,” you said softly. You weren’t sure when the space between the two of you disappeared, but Thor’s hands tightly gripped your waist pulling you impossibly close. “You kept your promise.”

“Can I kiss you?”

The question caught you off guard, your eyes widening. “I- is that like an Asgardian thing you guys do or-“ Before you could finish your sentence, Thor’s lips were pressed to yours, quickly and effectively shutting you up. He could have kissed you forever. It was slow and gentle and bottled with emotion. Silent whispers of love and dancing fingers. You pulled away first, lips swollen and eyes dazed.

“You didn’t miss me too much, right?” The blonde kissed you again quickly, stealing your breath away.

You hummed, standing on your toes to kiss him again. “No, not at all.”

“You are a terrible liar, dove. And if it’s worth anything, I missed you.”

“Trust me, god of thunder. I missed you so much more.”

#thor odinson #thor odison x reader #thor odison imagine #chris hemsworth #thor #thor the dark world #thor ragnarok #loki #loki x reader #valkyrie mcu #marvel imagine #marvel fluff #marvel #marvel fanfiction #avenger imagines #the avengers

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blueprint-han · 3 years

Text

desert rose — yang jeongin.

↪ “ Because love and a red rose could never be truly hid. ”

— “ You’d have never thought that one incident would’ve enlightened you of how much in love you were with your childhood best friend, but it turns out to be more of a problem when you’re threatened with a life-ending disease with no cure whatsoever. Or so you thought. ”

pairing: jeongin x reader

genre: hanahaki au; fluff, angst with a happy ending.

⇥ warnings: hanahaki disease, mentions of blood (not very graphic but enough that it’s tagged), lots of angst, also in this world the hanahaki surgery isn’t discovered yet, because it’s a fairly recent discovery, also y/n’s dad is nowhere mentioned in this fic idk take it as you like but i imagined him to pass away when y/n was 12 for some reason :((, please do not read if you triggered by topics of death or blood or disease! These themes will be prevalent though not in super explicit detail, they are still there. If I missed a warning, let me know. <3

word count: 11.09 K

type: long one-shot.

⇥ disclaimer: this fiction does not represent the activities of the real Yang Jeongin, nor is associated with JYPE in any form. Events are pure fiction. ♡

part of: the @bystay skznta event, written for @stayndays !!

song: inspired from Desert Rose by Lolo Zouaï <3 No relation to the fic but it did inspire the ~vibes~.

↯ note: I’m gonna be honest this tired me out so much that I’m glad I finished it, it took me longer than I expected and it got longer than I expected, but nonetheless, here you go shayna! Hi!! It’s me! Your secret santa! Sorry I couldn’t send you that many asks because my uni is a bitch™, and I wish I could’ve made this better, but I guess this will have to do for now. I hope you like it, and I loved being your santa! 🥺 I hope we can interact more in the future, and this isn’t edited so pls go easy on me （＞人＜；）eiury2y4er okay happy reading! <3 love you shayna! <3 I wish I could give this more editing time :( but... i hope u still like it! ⇥ dawn.☀️

Jeongin’s eyes are really pretty.

The first time you'd made this miniscule observation was during your summer vacation road trip when the sun shined a tad bit overly bright, and Jeongin’s umbrella had a hole in it. The exact details of how it ended up torn don’t matter, but the way Jeongin’s eyes seemed to shimmer in the harsh noon sun almost made it seem worth it.

You remember it clearly — He’d smiled brightly when his eyes met yours, eyes crinkling into tiny little half-moons before his expression turned neutral. At that moment, you were lost into the abyss that was his midnight black orbs. They seemed to hold glimmering stars in them, ones that outshone the specks of white in the night sky.

Looking back, you didn’t think of it much, opting to shake your head off it’s daze before running to where Jeongin stood, throwing a bottle of water into his backpack and laughing at some corny jokes the rest of the group cracked.

Jeongin was a friend — a good friend. In fact, you could call him your best friend, though it had never been verbalized. You couldn’t remember exactly when or how you’d gotten closer to him — it just happened, like everything important in this world did. Like how Jeongin says “It was fate, Y/N, fate” in that old-man-philosopher voice to get you to laugh (Of course it would never work, but you’d still laugh, because anything to see him give you that bright, toothy grin and that little scrunch of his nose in acknowledgement).

The memory of how it all started is as clear as the sky, as pure as the pigment of a rose.

“Don’t stray too far away, alright? Meet me back here in two hours.” The instructor screams, and all the students chime in with a collective “Yes, ma’am!”.

“Good, now go collect your flowers.”

A flower-picking expedition isn’t a common event in a school field trip, at least in your school. You’re more used to the normal visits to the ice cream factory, or the butterfly park (which, to be fair, had some pretty flowers, if only you could pick them) or another affiliated school. Nevertheless, you don’t complain, because the prospect of your school giving you a chance to collect all the pretty flowers you could spot here had you on top of the clouds.

You’re allowed to go alone or in groups of two, and of course, Jeongin has you by the arm the moment your teacher had screamed “Disperse!” at the top of her lungs (P.E teachers had a thing for screaming, apparently). Ignoring the teasing glances the other boys made towards the both of you, you set sail on your path, scanning all the bushes for any wild and unique flowers you could find.

“Oh look, there’s one!” You pointed out after a good four-minute-walk, almost stumbling in your one-inch-too-tight-shoes and ignoring Jeongin’s giggle at your antics. You beckoned him over to where you were standing and he obliged, tucking his sweater paws into his pockets before walking over to where you were staring at the pretty flower.

So, flowers. They’d always fascinated you. You’d developed said fascination ever since you were six. Something about the sheer way the petals were arranged, the various ranges of coloring — vivid, gradient, muted — the beauty of something so delicate and intricate always drew you in. You found yourself examining a flower for hours, and surprisingly, you never grew tired of it. They’d helped you through a lot when you felt particularly down, too. Perfect distraction — snuggling against Jeongin’s arm and playing with the flower he’d always pick out for every visit, surrounded by calming; almost numbing silence along with the sound of his steady breathing, maybe sometimes his heartbeat too when he’d get overly affectionate. Flowers in a way, in every way, were your escape. You loved them.

“Hmmm.” Jeongin hummed over the sounds of the leaves susurrating and rustling on the ground, the wind enveloping you like a cold, yet oddly comfortable blanket. He fixed his round glasses over his nose, quickly flipping through his encyclopedia. No one really questioned him as to why he carried it wherever he went — but just like you, he had a vivid fascination for flowers too. It was something the both of you fit like a glove on, and you were beyond grateful to meet someone who could click with you so well.

“This is wolfsbane, we can’t pick it.” He said, shaking his head. “It’s poisonous, the whole plant is.”

“Oh…” You pouted, staring at the flower once more. You took in the sight of lush, violet petals, the way they wrapped around the centre and had almost no smell.

“Hey.” He touched your hand worriedly. “You didn’t touch them, right?”

“No, I didn’t. I know better than to touch plants without knowing what they are.”

“Good.” There you could see it again. That lovely, bright smile, one more of relief this time. When you looked into his eyes, you seemed lost — you could capture every flutter of his lashes against his cheeks, count every lustrous star that was laid in his eyes. “That’s good, the poison can be absorbed easily through your skin.”

“Yeah.” You let yourself smile at him, hands dropping down to fiddle with the hem of your frock.

“Come on, I wanna get some shots for my book. Plus some flowers.” Pulling at your hand, he led you amidst the varying degrees of green and the damp smell of grass for a good distance, before halting in front of a bush. You knew what he’s referencing to by ‘shots’. The camera that hangs around his back, ready to immortalize the memory into his SD card, or rather make a polaroid (or a painting, if he’s being artistic) and tape it to his notebook along with the pressed flower.

“Look!”

Trip a step back, and you yelp at the sudden intrusion to your pace, pouting at Jeongin before looking in the direction he had his eyes fixated on. “Roses.” You giggle, kneeling in front of the bush and hissing when you feel the damp coldness of the grassy floor seep into your knees. “They’re pretty.”

You can barely hear the sound of students walking past you — the moment seems almost captivating — nothing heard, nothing felt except the whirring of the wind, and the fresh smell of various plants mixed together, it carries.

This part of the garden seems particularly shady and cool, and some of the roses haven’t bloomed yet. A few rosebuds, a few half-bloomed roses, and two fully bloomed, deep red roses, sitting nicely against the green foliage.

Jeongin kneels before you, and you turn to smile at him, chortling at the way his glasses are about to fall over his nose again. You ruffle his black hair gently before fixing the glasses up his nose.

“You might wanna get a chain attached to that thing. You know those strings that go around your neck and to your glasses to hold them in place?”

Jeongin chuckles. “It’s alright. I don’t like my glasses anyways.”

“Whyyy…?” You whine, poking his arm playfully before directing your focus back on the rose. “You look so adorable with them.”

Your friend feels a smile tug at his lips, leaning in to pinch your cheeks lightly. “You’re adorable.” He says, before focusing on the rose, (thankfully) oblivious to the way your cheeks feel warm after his action.

“Here, let me pick them out and then we can press them into our journals.” Yes. The both of you have matching journals, owing to your near obsession with flowers. You oft share them with each other and get fascinated by how the other views the flower, how they delicately craft words into how the little gift of nature meant to them. It’s a heartwarming tradition — one of the main reasons you follow it till date.

Jeongin pulls out a pair of scissors from his satchel, and albeit with a lot of force (and the adorable nose scrunch™, manages to cut off a decent amount of stem with the fully bloomed flower, carefully bringing it to his nose to smell it before doing the same to the other one. And all the while, you silently watch.

“Here, this one is more fresh.” It’s so surprising how he can just say that by looking at the flower. Then again, you know him better than anyone, so it’s not surprising at all. He looks at you with dreamy, fluttering eyes and that precious smile on his face, his hair falling perfectly on his forehead. You want to reach out and fix the stray hairs back into position, but you hold back, swallowing the lump in your throat when you look into his pretty, pretty eyes. Trying your damnedest to not get mesmerized, lost in them once again.

It doesn’t seem like a very, very special moment. And to you at that time, it wasn’t special. You simply ignored the heat that crept up your face at his silent gesture, nodding sporadically and ignoring the way you tensed up more when your fingers touched, barely.

Your heart suddenly thumped against your chest with renewed vigour, and you could tell Jeongin was close to noticing it too.

“T-thank you, that's very sweet.” Fixing the frills of your frock, you smooth them over before looking further and deeper into the garden.

“Lend me a hand, please.”

You once again, ignore the way your heart flutters at his statement, silently extending your hand and covering up your sudden emotion with a smile. His hand feels soft, warm in your hold, fingertips slightly rough from when he used to play the violin. You like it, though.

“Here.” He places the rose carefully in your palm, making sure no thorns prick the delicate skin of your palm, and you can’t help but smile at the tiny reassurance. A nod of approval and you tuck the flower away neatly into your satchel, almost like a valuable present he’d given you, oblivious to the way Jeongin’s eyes twinkled at your action, his smile beaming.

My god, who would’ve known this flower could’ve brought you so, so much trouble?

It had started simple, almost unnoticeable. Just little glances towards Jeongin when he’d come over to watch a movie, getting lost in the way his hair looked exceptionally soft to touch, silently drifting off into space as you admired him from the backseat during class — sure, you were supposed to be focusing on the lesson and taking notes, but something about the way the rim of Jeongin’s sunglasses caught the sunlight and created a lens flare effect was breathtaking to watch.

That, combined with his beauty, his personality. It was too much, too much to handle.

You found yourself waiting to get a glimpse of him, even a tiny glance of his smile would be enough to make your day — to make your heart flutter.

He was pretty.

You suppose it’s because being Jeongin’s best friend meant you already knew about the kind and empathetic man he was — but for the love of god, you could not stop your heart from fluttering when you heard his name, let alone looked at him and his mind-numbingly pretty smile, his dazzling eyes that always seemed to keep you off the ground.

Oh my, was this love?

You didn’t believe it. You didn’t agree, couldn’t accept that this was love. Maybe it was just your way of showing appreciation for him, for everything he’d done for you? Yes. That was probably it.

Love wasn’t something you’d experienced — how could you jump to the conclusion?

But you couldn’t pin the feeling you were feeling to another word — though you were desperate. The way your heart beat faster around him, the way you started noticing all the tiny details that made you fall for him even more, and for what? Just because he happened to give you a fresher, more lusciously colored rose after choosing them on his own?

Jeongin had noticed it too — it was hard not to when you’d start fiddling with your thumbs, twirling your hair, and the way heat would rush to your face when he did as little as smile at you — you’d fallen for him — and while he was ever-the-oblivious to realise the implications of your actions, he did know that something was wrong.

“Y/N, are you alright?” Jeongin asks rather dully, seeming kind of worried about your current state. You’re resting your head against his lap, but Jeongin can feel the warmth of your cheek through the thin material of his shorts — and not the regular kind. The kind of heat one would radiate when they’d either been overly flustered. Or possibly a fever.

He rests a single palm against your cheek and your eyes flutter shut, and there it is again. The butterflies in your stomach, the fuzzies in your head, and the tingling that shot up to your fingertips. “Are you sick? Is that why you’re oddly quiet today? You haven’t said or eaten anything.”

“Ah, no, I’m alright.” You try to hide the dizziness in your voice, snuggling in his hold before fluttering your eyes close. Thankfully, Jeongin doesn’t question it.

“Alright, we won’t talk about it if you don’t want to.” Even though you aren’t facing him right now, you can feel him smile in melancholy.

“Hey Y/N?”

“Yes?”

“You know I’m here for you, right?”

Oh, you knew.

Sometimes you wish you didn’t — maybe that would’ve prevented it from ending this way.

It’s such a common scenario — in movies, in books, in media. Two best friends falling in love with each other, confessing their love in the warm and intimate setting of the night sky, over gentle touches and lingering kisses. You’ve always had an attachment to those kinds of movies or books — because for you, that kind of love was special in it’s own way.

Those little ways the lead characters had of showing each other their undying love, those subtle acts were so special, so special in their own way. Those books had shown you how heartwarming, how vulnerable yet rigid, strong that relationship could be. It was such a pretty world to explore, to fantasize. You kind of felt that you and Jeongin were the protagonists of those books, those movies.

Except, you had no happy ending.

The books failed to show how painful it was to swallow, to digest the fact that you could be nothing more than friends. Sure, there had been some moments where the main leads would be sad, but it was nothing compared to this, this suffocation in your chest that slowly built up, day by day, minute by minute, second by second.

It was hard.

The first prick in your chest hadn’t been entirely painful. It was barely noticeable even. Simply a tiny jolt of pain when you bent forward to grab your books from your locker. It had only been a slight jab, like when you’d accidentally poke yourself in the rib with the edge of your hardcover diary while picking it up. Nothing too hard.

Then came the slight feeling of breathlessness. You found yourself unable to run a full round in P.E (when you could easily do so beforehand), having to stop in between to catch your breath. You figured it could’ve been your dust allergy because the P.E room wasn’t cleaned that often, so it made sense. Somewhat. Still sceptical, but nonetheless, you covered up your random outbursts of coughs with any and every excuse you could find when your parents questioned you about it.

It was hard, but you figured it was just a matter of winter passing by, and soon you’d be alright.

Would you, though? You couldn’t bring yourself to accept that there was in fact something wrong happening to you, pushing behind that feeling of paranoia every time with a smile on your face and a hold of your breath, wishing for the pain to ebb away.

Who would’ve thought that a sudden infatuation would have led to your demise?

Jeongin can hear the noises.

Those loud, dragged out wisps of air that you borderline struggle to take in and expel out, Jeongin can hear them.

He can feel your struggle. It’s not easy for him to look at you like this, curled up into a ball and ignoring the rampant burn in your chest. The movie isn’t even the main focus right now. Jeongin has something to say, and he’s had enough of watching you struggle. He’s rather here to persuade you to go to the fucking doctor, and get some sort of diagnosis instead of beating around the bush.

Strange. Jeongin feels oddly affectionate today, when usually you’re the one to initiate such gestures. All he wants to do is pull you into his arms and rock you back and forth until you fall asleep, because you seriously seem like you need it.

“Y/N,” he calls, watching you lift your head up from where it’s rested against your knees. You don’t reply, because right now, your throat seems like a barren desert and all you can seem to let out is a croak.

Jeongin sighs and rolls his eyes as if in deep thought, turning on the couch to face you before touching the tops of your cheeks with his hands — they seem overly feverous.

“What’s going on?” He asks sternly.

“What d-do you mean?” You manage to get out, feeling your chest hurt more and more with each syllable that leaves past your lips in a croaked voice. It felt like someone was repeatedly stabbing your chest with the sharp edge of the knife, the burn in your throat and lungs getting too much to handle. You can’t even tear your focus from the fiery sensation to revel in the feeling of Jeongin’s soft palms cupping your cheeks.

“Y/N, you’ve been acting weird ever since the expedition.” Worry is laced throughout his tone, mixed in with a dash of sorrow to give rise to the most heartbreaking sound you’ve ever heard. Though you know otherwise, it almost seems as though Jeongin is disappointed in you.

“You’ve been getting more and more sick—” he raises a hand to stop you from contradicting his statement. You only look at him with mellow eyes, knowing that what he says is right. You’ve been ignoring your health for too long.

You can’t help it, either. While you have an inkling of what might’ve happened, you’re too stubborn to accept it, let along your unrequited love for your best friend, who seems ever-the-oblivious.

“—and you can’t tell me it’s the winter allergy, love. I know you more than that to believe it.”

Shaking your head in dismay, you turn around to get up. You can’t be having this conversation right now, not with the faintest taste of blood lingering at the edge of your throat — you can’t be showing yourself like this in front of him — broken down, vulnerable, confused of your own feelings, having no idea of what you should be doing.

Your mother had pointed it out too, at this point. They suggested going to the doctor, and you outright refused. You didn’t want your suspicion to come to life. It couldn’t- it couldn’t be this way-

“Y/N!”

Jeongin grabs your hands to stop you in your position and turns you around.

And that’s a wrong move.

Your whole chest tightens, and the thorns that stab against your chest has never been more painful. You cry out loudly, only causing them to dig deeper into your skin and almost bleed. Jeongin’s eyes widen in shock at your sudden, unexpected reaction and only tightens his grasp on your hands.

Which again, is a very wrong move, because the following bouts of coughs that take over you shake you up from the core. Jeongin feels blanked out looking at how much you’re suffering right now, so much that he doesn’t feel the wet, yet light flutter on the back of his hand.

When Jeongin snaps back in from his momentary daze, he’s borderline horrified.

He’s convinced, completely certain that there’s nothing more terrifying, heartbreaking, scarring — he could go on and on — than what he just saw. He can almost feel his heart break into a million tiny shards, but he knows that it’s nowhere equivalent to the pain you’re going through.

Well, looks like your suspicion did come to life.

Because what Jeongin sees is, gah, he feels horrified. There’s blood dripping down your lip, staining the skin below garnet red. Your eyes are tinted pinkish-red too, most likely from the exertion that came along with the horrendous amount of coughs that took over you.

Red, red everywhere. Jeongin had previously thought of red as one of the most beautiful, and most interesting colors ever — a symbolism of love, nothing but the pure love he felt towards you.

But now, all he could think of was how much he was tormented by the mere sight of the color.

When his eyes, still blown wide in shock, trail down to his lap, the mere sight of what’s littered on it leaves him in tears.

Red petals, everywhere. All over the back of his hands, all over your lap, all over his lap.

Jeongin could probably spend ages, ages sobbing and whimpering about the sheer pain the sight in front of him brought. It tormented him beyond imagination. This should be a dream — Jeongin wants to wake up any second now, anywhere, in your lap, in his own bed, just anything to save his heart from seeing you this way.

Yet when you cough again, the pain in his heart tells otherwise.

“Y/N!” He chokes out a cry, and from there, he acts quick. He could cry about this later — he needs to find you some help, and now.

You feel numb. As numb as you possibly can when you see the tears in Jeongin’s eyes, though your sight is clouded by your own tears. You’re numb to the blood dripping down your chin and pooling in your lap, you’re numb to the feeling of those bloody petals littered all over the couch.

“We need to get you to the hospital, quick.” He gets up, wiping his eyes that are surprisingly, surprisingly overflowing with tears. You barely feel the handkerchief quickly wiping against your mouth, causing you to snap from your trance and look at him. The numbness doesn’t fade yet.

You doubt it ever will.

You’re not sure that the events after the incident go super quickly or as slow as a snail, and you’re not in any state to care about it either. Jeongin had called your mother when he drove you to the hospital — albeit over the sound of your repetitive and raucous coughs — and now your mom’s standing next to him outside, nervously prancing back and forth as he waits for the doctors to come out.

The hospital corridor is moderately lit — perfect setting for Jeongin’s mood right now. There’s no sound except for the occasional encounter when a nurse or doctor happens to walk past them. The hanahaki treatment section of the hospital isn’t the most crowded place — surprisingly enough, the doctors had immediately known what had happened to you.

Your mother can’t bring herself to thank Jeongin for dragging you to the hospital — she’s too paranoid. Your daughter coughing up blood and — Jeongin hadn’t mentioned it to her — flower petals over a movie night isn't the best news you’d want to receive when her friend calls you; so Jeongin understands why your mother is overly quiet.

He doesn’t try to reassure her either. It’s hard to do so when she’s gonna find out her daughter houses a wedding bouquet in her chest — and Jeongin isn’t that oblivious to not know what’s going on, especially standing in the hanahaki department of the clinic. His mother, not so much. All she can do is silently sob and mutter prayers repeatedly, hoping her daughter would be alright. Jeongin feels his heart break more when he sees your mom like this, and he knows he’s not gonna last at this rate, when he’s allowed to enter your room.

At this point, he can’t get past his own brain screaming a million different things at the same time, none of them coherent enough to make sense. He’s a mess right now — red eyes puffy and swollen, hair completely disheveled and half of his sweatshirt hanging out of where it was neatly tucked in.

Two hands at his heart, and that’s when he notices the red rose petal stuck to the back of his hand, probably from when you’d coughed all over it. It’s fairly large in size — Jeongin examines it, in a slightly successful attempt at trying to distract from the feeling of anxiety that builds up inside bit by bit. It’s a deep, dark red color, exactly like the rose he’d given you that day, at the trip.

The boy sighs to himself before pulling the petal off his hand, eyes widening when the blood underneath it tints the skin it runs across.

That’s when a lump forms in his throat, but he isn’t given time to cry, because soon enough, the sound of a door opening clicks through his ears, and Jeongin’s head snaps up.

He can see you from where he’s standing, and his whole world freezes in front of his eyes.

The flowers inside your chest had grown moderately large — that’s what the doctor said, at least. You’d been hiding your disease for two months, and it wasn’t until the end that Jeongin caught on — you’d been too stubborn to accept your fate. Maybe this was how it was supposed to end, after all.

You couldn’t accept it then, but you did now. Did it seriously make a difference?

Jeongin had seen your scan, and what he saw would’ve truly been pretty, if not for the fact that these flowers could be the cause for your imminent death. The roses had almost fully bloomed — and the thorns were pricklier than ever. Jeongin could almost feel them stab against his skin, and he didn’t even have the disease. It was confusing — things were too confusing right now.

You couldn’t speak much, the painkillers you were on were making you drowsy and causing you to quickly fall asleep. Even if you weren’t asleep, it wouldn’t have made a difference.

Numbness ran through your veins. You couldn’t bring yourself to feel anything after what had happened.

Jeongin and your mother hadn’t spoken to you after the doctor had shown them your scan, and they preferred to not break the news to you either, figuring that you were pretty shaken up from the incident already.

The doctor said he could give you two weeks before the flowers filled your lungs completely and blocked your throat.

And Jeongin is devastated.

When the effect of your painkillers wear off and you open your eyes, you feel a soft sensation brushing against your thumb, slowly turning to look at your best friend — tears streaked all over his face, eyes ridden with dark circles and red and puffy, his voice sounded nasal as he silently cried, eyesight focused on the floor.

“J-Jeongin…?” You mumble past your oxygen mask, surprisingly not noticing it’s presence until right now,

He perks up at the painful call, lifting his head to gaze into your eyes. He looks worse than you look right now, if you’re to be honest. You doubt he’s even brushed his teeth or had breakfast. The hospital room is pretty dim just like the exterior, but the sunlight coming from the open window is enough to light up the whole room, enough to at least see your friend’s features clearly.

“You’re awake.” he says as a matter-of-fact and you nod, gently taking off the contraption placed against your nose. Jeongin flinches like he wants to stop you. But then freezes when you try to slowly get up.

Turns out that’s a wrong move, because you can soon feel the thorns of the garden you have in your lungs prick against your skin, making you gasp and shriek in agony. Jeongin jerks up and places a hand on your back, and the other across your stomach — and gently maneuvers you into an awkward but comfortable position, before lifting the top of the bed into a reclining position before laying you down onto it.

“Careful, love.”

Your chest tightens at the actions once again, yet you try not to cough like you did the last time. Surprisingly biting on your tongue works to rid the feeling of suffocation, or at least distracts from it.

“Where’s m-mom?”

“She went to pick up some of your essentials, plus a few clothes.”

“D-did she eat? Did you eat?”

Jeongin smiles at your concern. It’s something he’s found endearing about you — how you always seem to put others first, even though you’re in a worse situation. Though the habit isn’t healthy, Jeongin can’t seem to get over how thoughtful one would have to be to act that way all the time. You’re so innocent, so kind — you’re one of a kind, at least for him.

“What?” You chuckle, noticing Jeongin’s lingering stare on you.

Your friend only beams, taking your hand in his once again. “I forced her to eat something because of her medication, so you don’t have to worry. I ate along with her too, though the canteen’s food doesn’t taste that well.”

A soft giggle leaves your lips and quickly morphs into a set of coughs, more petals fluttering all over your lap and hands. When Jeongin stands up to call a doctor, you lift a hand to stop him, gesturing for him to sit down.

It isn’t as intense as the first time, but there’s still a tiny bit of blood dripping from the corner of your mouth, which Jeongin quickly goes to wipe off with his thumb. You flinch at the warm touch, sighing to yourself before dropping your gaze to your lap.

“So…” You start. “What did the doctor say?”

“What?”

Jeongin seems visibly tense at your question, kind of like he was dreading it. Which he was. He knows enough about this to know that patients usually don’t like knowing, and in fact can be traumatised by knowing that their apparent death would be in two weeks.

Jeongin in fact has no idea how he’s so calm. He should be sobbing, trashing, looking for a way to hold you back. He shouldn’t be so calm.

He figures he’s just accepted fate. He’s relishing what could be his last moments with you.

You don’t reply, and Jeongin knows he’ll have to make something up.

“They said it’s just a regular allerg-”

“Jeongin.”

The boy freezes.

“Don’t lie to me.” Your voice is laid with so much pain, Jeongin wants to reach out and crush every problem you have into his fist. He wants all your sorrow and worry to dissolve, and right now, he just feels helpless. He feels powerless.

“How many days do I have left?” You ask, sniffling before wiping your tears away. “Just tell me already, Jeongin-”

Jeongin’s grip tightens against your hand as he whispers — “Two weeks.”

The words are only let out as a soft mumble, as though Jeongin himself is questioning the statement the doctors put forth. Really, in two weeks? Would you really be gone? Would he seriously never see more of your smiles, your loving gaze, those times when you’d get overly shy of his compliments, those times when you’d silently smile at him from afar?

Was this the end?

“Two weeks.” You repeat. Your voice honestly sounds like a croaking frog, but you can’t bring yourself to care.

“Hey Y/N…?” Jeongin hesitantly calls.

“Yeah?”

“Can I ask you something?” He puts his other hand on yours. “Two questions, actually.”

“Mhm?”

“This disease you have… hana-”

“Hanahaki.”

“Yeah, that.” A hand runs against the back of his neck and he continues. “Be honest, did you know that- that you had this disease before I found out?”

“Jeongin…” You’re about to shake your head, but then you remember the deadline. The deadline by which, you’re no longer going to be here, no longer going to be able to cuddle Jeongin during movie dates, no longer be able to even look at him from afar, or close for that matter. In other words, you didn’t want to end your days with him based on a lie.

Therefore you sigh, breathing out a ‘yes’ as your shoulders droop down.

You can hear Jeongin’s shaky sigh too.

“W-why?” He clenches your hand tightly, sadness mixing in with what you can only call disappointment. “How could you be so selfish?”

It's too late to take back those words now.

“Wh-what?” You raise your eyebrows, feeling scared at his sudden question. “Jeongin, I wanted to be sure-”

Oh who are you kidding? Jeongin and you both know that you’d hidden it because you didn’t want to accept it. It’s too late to change that now.

And Jeongin seems to know that too.

“Don’t- Y/N.” His breath morphs into sharp inhales, as though he’s downright angry at your actions — you know he has every reason to be — still, it doesn’t ease the pain in your heart. Or maybe that’s just the flowers.

“Do you think this is a joke?” His sobs grow louder in fervour, and you feel yourself break at the sight. The room is so, so quiet that you can hear his faint mumbles. You can hear the cries his heart screams in agony, letting you go is painful for him. The thought, rather the sound, only makes the plant in your heart grow further.

“Y/N- did you not think of your mother? Of me? Did you not think of what would have happened if you left us? You think it’s gonna be easy on the both of us? On everyone?” His gaze stern and his voice stable, you don’t get affected by his words, but you do understand what he means — and maybe wish that you could’ve reversed your actions.

“How could you, Y/N?” He gets up from where he’s seated beside your hospital bed. “How could you think that this would be the most appropriate action?”

Jeongin knows he’s angry. Jeongin knows you’re going through a lot. But he’s too.

He’s not angry at you, not at himself, but fate. He’s mad that this is your fate, that you have to go away so soon. He’s mad that he can’t do anything to help you, in any manner.

You don’t say a word, which only causes Jeongin to sigh — disappointedly, again — and walk to where his coat is hung against the edge of his bed, picking it off and pulling it over him in a hurry. Every cell in you wants to scream at him, apologize for what you did, but your voice feels small, almost like you can’t force it out of your throat.

He goes towards the door that leads to the corridor, stopping for a second before turning to look at you.

“Are you gonna tell me, at least, who this person is?”

“W-what?” Things are too confusing right now.

“Hanahaki comes with unrequited love, Y/N. Are you gonna tell me who didn’t return your love?”

“You didn’t” You want to say. But then again, you stay quiet, not being able to handle the intensity of the moment.

Jeongin wants for two seconds, then sighs and shakes his head. “Whatever, I guess.”

And then he leaves.

In the next week, your health goes down drastically. More of petals expelled out of your lungs, more blood dripping from between your lips, more of your mother’s horrified expression as she runs away from the room while the doctors tend to your coughs. More sobs from your mother when she thinks you’re asleep, more melancholic smiles when you’re awake.

But you feel so empty.

Every piece of you feels like it’s being ripped apart. You can’t even sit up without someone’s help, of such intensity is the pain. The pain of knowing that your love would never be returned.

The pain of knowing that you hurt the person you loved truly.

You were put on your oxygen mask 24/7, and instructed to not take it off whatsoever. Your medication stopped taking it’s usual effect, and if anyone saw you the way you were outside the current circumstances, they’d have assumed that you haven't slept for 8 days and were going to crumble into the earth any second.

“Honey?”

You gasp at the sudden intrusion to your thoughts, turning around to see your mother, sitting next to you and holding your hand with her own. You hum as a response, clearly unable to respond more than a mere mumble.

“Did you and Jeongin fight?”

A pang of guilt floods through your nerves at the mention of your friend’s name. He’d come to visit you only once in the past week. Perhaps even he couldn’t handle the fact that your death certificate was ready to be signed soon, and was trying to not be tormented by the fact. Or perhaps he was just angry.

“W-why?” You croak.

“I convinced him to come stay here while I go pick up a fresh change of clothes, but it took me quite a bit of arguing.”

You feel sad for her. She’s clearly paranoid — you can hear it in her voice, the shake lingers throughout. Yet she holds it in, trying not to let you worry about it.

You don’t answer her question. The last thing you need is for her to get mad at you too, though you doubt it. Your mom has never been the kind to yell at you for anything — provided, you’ve never given her a reason either.

“Do you think he’s mad because I didn’t tell him about the person who didn’t return m-my l-lo-ve…?” your throat goes dry towards the end and your mother quickly hands you a glass of water. You chug it down and sigh in relief, breath still short.

“Is that person him?” Your mother questions with her gentle, soothing voice one that can make you relax on the first listen. There’s no use lying to her, you figure. She knows you too well to do that, plus, like you said, you couldn’t bring yourself to end your days with her on a lie.

“Yeah…”

“Oh sweetheart,” She brushes some of your hair off your face, sitting down again before drumming her fingers against the back of your hand gently. “I don’t think he could be mad at you.”

“But he is. Didn’t y-you see? He didn’t bother to meet me as much after our argument. He’c c-clearly mad.”

“Hmmm,” Your mother ponders. “I don’t think so.”

“You don’t?”

“Nope. I have known him for a while, dear. He’s been with you for more than five years. Maybe he’s having trouble taking this in? Just like…” Your mother stops after that, but you know the completion.

Just like her.

“I’m sorry, mom.”

You simply don’t get it. You should be scared. You should be sad and devastated that your end was going to come soon. You should be thrashing around and crying and wailing in despair — you just don’t have the energy to even bother about your end. It’s depressing, but you know there’s no way you could avoid the inevitable, or get your lover to return your love.

Love wasn’t supposed to be something forced, it had to happen naturally. And if Jeongin didn’t develop it naturally, you just had to learn to live with it. Or not.

“Don’t be, darling. Everyone deserves to love, just like how they deserve it back. I wish it could’ve ended differently.”

“It’s alright mom. He loves me too… just not on the way I love him.”

You sniffle as a single tear runs down your chin, though you and your mom aren’t given enough time to speak more when you hear a familiar voice at the door.

“Hey Mrs. L/N.” Jeongin says, shrugging off his half snow-covered coat before hanging it onto the bedside. Did he seriously walk in the snow? All the way here?

“Hello, Jeongin dear.” Your mother stands up, picking her coat before moving to fish the car keys from her purse. “Thank you for watching over Y/N while I’m gone, darling.”

“It’s no problem, Mrs. L/N.”

“Oh, so formal.” Your mom chuckles, though in her despaired state. “Y/N, you get some sleep, it’s about midnight dear.” She leans over to kiss your forehead while Jeongin excuses himself to the washroom, and you nod.

“Good night mom.”

“Good night, and don’t worry about him. He’ll talk to you eventually.”

Oh, how reassuring. “Mhm.” You smile, closing your eyes to drift into slumber before Jeongin returns, because the last thing you need right now is to feel sad and cry over how you’d hurt him.

By the time the sound of the door clicking resounds through the space, you’re already asleep.

It’s way past midnight. Jeongin shouldn’t be up.

Somehow, he still finds himself seated next to your bed, staring fondly at your calm features as you finally get the rest you’ve needed for the past few days.

Oh, he wouldn’t be able to compare your sheer beauty to even that of the moon; even when you’re in such a fragile and vulnerable state. Your eyelashes are still and unmoving where they sit against your skin, your breath is calm and slightly wavering as you struggle to breathe slightly.

His hand slips into your own gently, and his heart melts when you shift, tightening your grasp on his warm skin before falling into a slumber again.

Why was he mad in the first place? Jeongin feels dumb for acting so quickly on his emotions, especially when you’re in a bad place at the moment. He wants to wake you up and apologize, but he can’t, because you’re sound asleep — and that’s a good thing, since seep comes so scarcely to you these days.

Then, a single tear falls from his eyes. His thoughts traverse to the dream he had the previous night — you, cold, dead in his arms. Him, sobbing, trying to wake you up but you’re really gone. He can’t even hear your mother’s cries from behind him, because he’s devastated to know that you’ve left him. The dream had woken him up in a cold sweat — it was then he realised that he’d committed a mistake, and agreed to come visit you, because you had about 5 days left.

His thoughts then traverse to the conversation you had with your mother, while he was standing outside in the cold hospital corridor, curiously listening.

“Is that person him?” “Yeah…”

When he heard those words, countess, infinite thoughts crashed at his head; all at once. Nothing made any sense. The reality of the situation was dawning on him too quickly, and Jeongin was having a hard time processing it.

You loved him? He was the person who didn’t return your love?

“Why didn’t you tell me, Y/N?” He mumbles in confusion — so much confusion, so much hurt — he wanted time to just stop for awhile and give him a fair chance to analyze the situation.

But, once all the initial thoughts were out of the way, only one question remained:

Was he the reason you were going to die?

Jeongin felt like a murderer — like he’d just stabbed you in cold blood. He knows it is’t like that — just like you’d said, love should come natural. So why did Jeongin feel so bad? WHy did he feel like he was the one at fault?

A fond smile crosses his lips when he remembers the book where you keep all your flowers safely. Who would have thought your fondness for flowers would morph into the reason for your demise?

Quiet, hushed in the midnight wind, Jeongin gently brings out the rose he’d picked from his satchel. It’s almost relieving to see a rose in it’s true glory, without scattered petals or blood covering the flower. A part of him grows sad that you won’t be able to gush over flowers together anymore, he won’t be able to see your smile anymore. It hurts him. It stabs his heart over and over again, and Jeongin is pained — almost like he’s being put to death slowly — he wants the pain to end, but only suffers and suffers.

The stem has already been cut and the thorns have been thrown out. Jeongin leans over to tuck the flower behind your ear, fingers brushing against the almost cold skin at the back of your ear before letting another tear slip from his eye, running down his cheek and falling on your palm.

A strange, oh-so-strange feeling creeps up on him. It’s like… a fluttering in his heart? Jeongin can’t quite place it — heck, he doesn’t try to make sense of it. There are more important things to look at, right now. He suddenly has the urge to pull you into his arms and gently murmur sweet words into your ear — seems odd for a situation like this, but oh well, feelings are feelings.

He pats your hand gently and smiles, before moving to sleep on the smaller bed in front of your own. Not allowed to go far, though, because your grip on his hands tighten almost immediately, and Jeongin tightens to look into your eyes, sparkly and slightly droopy from the intrusion of sleep.

“Y/N, go to-”

“Stay.” You mumble, feeling your voice choke as the petals threaten to spill out for what seems like the millionth time. Yet, you manage to spill out another, “Please?”

Jeongin feels like he’s about to cry. Your expression is so, so hopeful, he can’t bring himself to deny. He wouldn’t in the first place, because who was he to deny what could be his friend’s last wish?

A sob bubbles up his throat, but he swallows it down, smiling with melancholy before following your weak pull on his hand, genty climbing on your bed before slotting himself between you and the steel grill that prevented patients from falling down. He gently tucks his hand under you and pulls you close to himself, tensing up for a second when you wrap an arm around his own, gently rubbing on it before drifting off to sleep. You want to cherish this moment — this could be the last time before you could never see him again. Fuck your medication for making you so drowsy. Or not, because you were certain you would start crying, and that would certainly not end well.

The whole room falls silent for two seconds, and you fall asleep almost immediately.

And then, Jeongin releases all his tears, and everything comes crashing down on him. He breaks apart.

The world was too cruel to you. He was cruel to you. He can’t believe that in less than a week, you’d be gone. Gone from earth. Flowers had lost all their beauty for him, the moment he saw you coughing them up on that couch during movie night.

He wanted to do anything. He wanted any small sign to show that you would stay with him. He was in so much pain, he couldn’t accept your fate. He wanted to grab your hand and pull you to himself, keep you close, he couldn’t let go, he couldn’t give you up, he couldn’t —

“I love you.” You mumble unconsciously in your sleep, and Jeongin loses it then and there. His throat feels dry as tears flow and flow and don’t cease no matter what. His body shakes like a sobbing child, but thankfully you’re knocked out from the effect of your medication. He hasn’t cried this hard in a while, guess there’s a first time for everything. The three words pierce his heart, and they suddenly hold more meaning than anything — Jeongin wants to hear those words on a loop; he feels strangely ecstatic when you say them.

And so, with a shaky voice and a sorrowful tone, Jeongin replies after pressing a kiss to your forehead — “I-I love you, t-too.”

His eyes flutter shut and he basks in your arms just one last time, holding you close to himself as he finally, finally finds himself at peace, next to you.

When your mother finds you both snuggled up and asleep together, a smile crosses her lips. A hopeful smile.

“Are you ready for your scan, Y/N?”

You feel oddly light today — one would say it’s because your body was close to shutting down completely, but your throat felt a bit, a tiny bit clearer and less barren than a fucking desert. Nevertheless, the scan does make you nervous. This would make clear how long the flowers would take to reach your throat — the doctor’s estimation was about three days, which seemed way too short for Jeongin.

Oh, how embarrassing it was when the nurses, all giggly and mushy-eyed, found you snuggled with Jeongin like a teddy bear at the early hours of the morning, waking you and Jeongin up and only cracking up more at your bewildered expressions when you find yourself tangled with each other.

Before the scan, Jeongin had held your hand softly, leaning down to press another kiss to your forehead. You’d shyly smiled, nodding before letting the nurse drag you to the scanning room.

The details of the scan itself aren’t important, it went pretty well — as decent as a scan could possibly go. You’re able to cooperate with your nurses pretty feasibly, you feel the sudden urge to get out of your wheelchair and try walking. Sure, you can still feel the choked feeling in your throat and the burn in your lungs, but somehow, it’s just a tiny bit lesser than usual. Maybe it’s because your painkillers are working more effectively. Maybe.

Jeongin’s waiting for you outside when you’re led out of the room, and he smiles when he sees you.

You don’t even remember what you’d said the previous night. All you remember was passing out while Jeongin was in the washroom, and then waking up to him cuddled up, warm and snug next to you. His features were clear and calm as the ocean on a sunny day, a small smile on his lips, as though he was dreaming about something happy. You hope he did, because that boy deserves the happiness.

“You seem energetic today.” Jeongin says, taking note of your perky demeanour, that only causes you to giggle slightly.

Sure, you don’t remember the happenings of last night, but he does — and he’d promised himself to cherish every last second. Because in the end, it’s all he can do — for leading you to this state, for getting mad at you and wasting precious time in which he could’ve stayed with you. He’d promised to not let you live your last moment sad and desolated.

“I feel light, for some reason.” You mumble with a broken voice as Jeongin takes the wheelchair from the nurse, listening to what she has to say before bowing and nodding, leading you back to your room.

“What did she say?” You ask, fiddling with your thumbs.

“She said your scan results would come in an hour.”

“Oh… alright.”

For some reason, you’re too joyous today, after the little surprise you got as soon as your eyes opened. You can’t seem to bother about the end— you want to live in this moment, right now.

When you come back to the room, Jeongin lifts you up bridal style, causing you to gasp before placing you down onto the bed. The nurse waiting there quickly fixes your IV and helps you sit into a comfortable position (though it’s hard when thorns keep pricking at your ribs) before bowing to the both of you, and leaving.

Your mother has once again left to go fix up the house, leaving you in the trust of your best friend. You aren’t complaining though, especially when Jeongin sits down beside your bed, taking your hand in his before playing with your nimble fingers — just like always.

He looks gorgeous today. After a lot of nagging from your mother, he’d used the hospital bathroom to wash his face and comb his hair neatly, and you’re happy about that because he looks fresher and happier than ever. You want him to be smiling and happy, even when you leave, because… did you need a reason? You just wanted him to be happy and content with his life.

The thought invokes an angsty feeling of melancholy, but you brush it away, trying to focus on Jeongin and the silence that drops on the both of you like a warm blanket. You smile softly at him, gently letting go of his hand before tucking a few strands of his hair behind his ear, almost melting when Jeongin’s eyes flutter close.

“Hey Jeongin?” You call, grabbing his hand once again and interlacing the fingers together.

“Yeah?”

“When I… leave,” You notice the twitch in his expression, but nonetheless, continue. “Will you bring me flowers every week?”

You remember the red rose you’d found tucked behind your ear when you woke up — it had dried up a bit, but nonetheless, it was one of the prettiest objects you’d ever seen — even though there was a whole bouquet of them spewing out your mouth every two seconds.

“I will.” Jeongin sniffles. The thought of having to visit your grave every week to bring you flowers is immensely saddening, but Jeongin agrees anyways. He agrees, for you.

It’s the least he can do.

It’s funny how you say “leave”, like you’re going to your hometown for a month-long vacation and not actually like you’re going to be buried any time soon. Jeongin thinks it’s because you don’t want him to get too sad over his loss — a stupid thing to wish — Jeongin knows this loss is going to affect him in more ways than one.

“Jeongin, d-don’t cry…” You cup his cheek, gently brushing your thumb against his cheek and wiping away the tears that fall, one by one. Jeongin shakes his head, placing his palm on your hand and smiling at you.

“Can you do me another favor?”

“As many as you’d like Y/N.” He says. He’ll do anything you want — it’s your last wish after all.

“Bury me with my flower journal, please?” It may seem like a weird claim to bury oneself with a dusty old book, but Jeongin understands the significance — you want to hold onto those memories you made with him while writing it together, while picking flowers together and all those happy moments you exchanged.

Jeongin tries not to let his voice break again. “I will.”

You beam at his acceptance. Jeongin feels the slight thump of his heart against his chest, and a warm feeling envelopes him from inside. He’s suddenly overcome with an urge to press delicate kisses on your eyelids, though he tries to shoo it away, because it isn’t the main point of focus right now.

But soon your mother walks in, and it’s all small talk and deep conversations with her at the same time. You have breakfast, persuade (more like force) Jeongin to scarf down his meal and giggle about some random jokes thrown here and there, until the doctor comes in. Both Jeongin and your mother stand up, bowing and wishing good morning while you do too. Wish, not stand up. You’re basically tied to the bed at this point.

“Mrs L/N, I’d have had a word with you in private, but I think Miss Y/N needs to hear this too.”

“What is it, doctor?”

You furrow your eyebrows in confusion and Jeongin’s grip on your hand tightens, thumb rubbing over your skin to soothe your obvious tension. The doctor slides the transparent, firm sheet off it’s envelope before letting the sunlight hit the back of it, in order to enable a clearer viewing.

“This is… the most unusual case I’ve ever seen, but —” He points to a junction on the scan. “The flowers have actually reduced in amount, and they've separated from the windpipe by a whole two inches. See?” He points at the edges of the lungs and at the windpipe, but you understand what he means. The flowers are there, no doubt, but it’s almost like — a whole stem of them just disappeared into thin air.

Of course this could’ve been because you coughed them up, but the coughed up flowers go instantly, or so you’ve heard. There’s confusion written on all of your faces right now.

“Is that why I was feeling lighter and easier to breathe today? Because the flowers withered off and gave more space for air?” You ask in your low voice, and your doctor nods.

“Seems like it. Do you have your previous scan?” Your mother hands it to him quickly after a great deal of fishing out of her purse.

He places the earlier scan behind the newer one, and suddenly, you can see what he means. It’s almost like they shrunk — you don’t know if that’s a good thing or a bad thing, but nonetheless, you’re happy you can breathe a bit more.

“What does this mean, though?” Jeongin asks, bewildered at the strange news. The room is so quiet and the tension is thick enough to cut with a knife, and you can see both your mother and Jeongin waiting for the doctor’s words.

“It means that we’ll take another scan tomorrow, a deeper one. And check if the flowers are actually collecting somewhere else, or just disappearing. And if they are disappearing…” He trails off, and you giggle when Jeongin and your mother lean forward in anticipation, though curious yourself.

“She’ll be home by Christmas. Or even earlier, if the recovery speed is fast.”

“Y-You mean… I can be cured?” Your voice shakes with hope, and the doctor smiles sweetly at you, before nodding.

“Yes dear, you’ll be the first patient who’s walked out of this place cured from hanahaki.”

At that moment, it almost feels like every flower inside your chest wilts out — you feel so light, so ecstatic. You’re over the clouds at the news, and don’t even hear your mother’s cries of thankfulness before the doctor heads out.

“Y/N!” Jeongin exclaims, ignoring the fluttering feeling in his heart and the burn in his cheeks when he cups your own. “You’re gonna come home!”

You shake with soft sobs, and smile at Jeongin.

“I’m gonna come home.” Provided the scan tomorrow showed a positive result, but you don’t bother to mention that part.

And the next day, when your scan results come back, a huge smile adorns your face, and your mother is in tears. Happy tears.

The sunshine is overly bright today, leaving you squinting for sight, especially when you’re seated in a garden out in the open, book in one hand and the other one resting against the cool, moist grass. The air holds a musky forest scent, and you revel in the feeling of the shivers the cold air that cuts through skin brings.

The park is relatively empty for the morning — you’re glad it is, because it brings on a sense of calmness that you seem to like. The surroundings are just perfect — you don’t want anyone to disrupt your mood right now.

So yeah. The story ends that way. You recover, bit by bit, though it takes a whole bunch of time. There were times when you still had to cough out those petals, but you couldn’t be happier — it felt as though you were spitting out those vicious thorns that had tormented and threatened your life. The doctors had no idea how you’d managed to recover — but this was an interesting case to put into their portfolio, so they weren’t complaining.

And oh, you had Jeongin to help you through all of it, of course.

It had taken you two weeks to be discharged from the hospital and be able to finally walk again, but when you did it — you felt like a whole new person, in a whole new world. Sure, you had to hold onto your mother or Jeongin wherever you went for the first week or so — it was almost like your legs had turned jelly.

When you returned home, Jeongin insisted that he take you to the garden every day, and when you complained that you couldn’t walk, he’d lifted you into his arms (bridal style, again) and carried you all the way there, and then given you a piggyback ride you all the way back home.

Eventually, you ended up telling him the truth — that the unrequited love that caused everything was because of how you’d fallen for him. You figured he deserved it, especially when he’d stuck with you the whole time without any hesitation and helped you whenever he could — he was truly one of the nicest, kindest people you’d ever met.

Of course, you were surprised when Jeongin only smiled and told you that he knew what you were talking about, and then proceeded to narrate how he’d overheard you in the hospital. Giggles left his lips when you gave him that meme-worthy look, making him shake his head before slinging and arm over his shoulder.

Surprisingly, that night ended just like the books — lovey-dovey confessions exchanged in the warm and intimate setting of the night sky, over shy smiles and lingering kisses. The both of you finally gave in to each other.

Huh, so maybe you were wrong about them — books — after all.

So when, your love was returned in the end, every flower in your chest had finally disappeared, and you couldn’t have been happier.

“You know when I brought you here I wanted you to help me pick flowers and not read a book?”

You laugh at the voice that comes from behind, closing the book shut before placing it on the side while Jeongin takes a seat beside you, hissing at the slight coldness of the grass. Ah, what a romantic scenario — green and colorful flowers as far as the eye could see, a book that you’ve been trying to finish but have never been able to because your boyfriend keeps interrupting you with his random outbursts of affection, and said person sitting right next to you.

“Well, you keep interrupting me all the time!” You chuckle, sliding a hand behind his shoulder before pulling him down to lie on your lap, and Jeongin complies. A sigh of content leaves his lips when he feels your fingers comb through his hair to rid them of any tangles — Jeongin feels stupid to not realise how much he loves you. It feels nice to call you his, feels nice to be able to say I love you, in all of it’s true meaning.

“What, I can’t cuddle my girlfriend now? Come on,” He takes your other hand in his, turning onto his back to look up at you before pressing his lips to the back of your hand. You feel the heat creep up your cheeks when he calls you his girlfriend, still not being able to take it in without growing immensely shy.

“You crybaby, fine. I’ll read the book later only because I love you and you give exceptionally nice cuddles.”

“Hmm, good.” He mumbles sleepily, eyes fluttering shut in calmness when he feels your fingers brush away any stray locks of hair that may get into his eyes. The reaction to your touch is so immediate these days, Jeongin thinks it’s a part of his routine now. Spend at least an hour admiring you in all of your happy, healthy glory.

Meanwhile, you’re sitting there, admiring his features in silence. His hair has grown longer now — Jeongin refuses to cut it no matter your endless verbalizations of how his original haircut looked better — and a small part of you has grown fond of this look too. His warm skin, and his sparkly eyes when he looks up at you, the bright, loving smile that he displays before getting out of your lap, kissing you on your lips to break you out of your focus.

The action only makes you more shy, and Jeongin laughs, cooing at your behavior before standing up, dusting his clothes off the dirt and extending his hand for you.

“Lend me a hand, will you?”

The line seems vaguely familiar and you’re overcome with a sense of deja vu, but nonetheless, you give him your hand, standing up before picking up your satchel and handing him his own.

“Now are you gonna pick a rose for me or do I have to do it myself again?” Jeongin raises an eyebrow and smirks, and you frown, slapping his arm before walking off to check all the flowers in their bushes.

“Hey, wait for me! Y/N!”

When he reaches you, he slides a hand into your own, interlacing the fingers before looking at you lovingly.

“I love you.” You both say at the same time, giggling at each other soon after — perhaps at how well you knew each other to time the confession so well.

So, this is how it ends. While you do think that things could’ve been handled differently, you’re glad that everything went the way it went, because in the end, you’d found him, he’d found you, you’d discovered your feelings together. You loved each other.

Because love and a red rose could never be truly hid.

but what if she had never recovered?

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