#don’t let grief consume you

[pumpkinsouppe]

It breaks my heart that people think the hero of time’s story is just a tragedy

Ocarina of time is absolutely a tragedy, but Majora’s Mask is not

Majora’s Mask is one of the most hopeful pieces of media I’ve ever consumed. It has a bittersweet end, but you finish the game knowing that link will be okay, that he can and will survive on his own. Sure he had to leave his friends behind again, but he CHOSE to do that this time. He knew he couldn’t stay in Termina and he made the choice to be a child again.

I do not for a second believe his entire life is a tragedy, NOT after all of Majora’s Mask. The game specifically designed to be about healing and love. Idk where the theories that link died or became a child soldier (?????) came from but I feel like the entire message of Majora’s Mask was just completely lost on a ton of people 😭

#tiny rant bc sometimes I feel like I’m the only person who understands Majora’s mask 😭😭😭 #no I actually genuinely hate all the theories that link’s life went downhill after Majora’s mask #the entire story is about healing from grief and from wounds understanding your trauma #if link were to die or become a soldier that just spits on the entire message of the game #it spits on people going through similar experiences and tells them their life will never get better #THATS NOT THE MESSAGE AHHHHHH!!!!!!!! #the message is that things will be okay #life is hard now life will always be hard #but there are people who love and appreciate you and you are meaningful to this world #don’t let grief consume you #things will get easier one step at a time #I have so many positive thoughts and feelings about Majora’s Mask it’s genuinely such a great game #especially if you are also going through trauma or grief it really helped me understand my own feelings through both #tloz #Zelda souppe blurb

[cream-and-tea]

god it’s so weird brainstorming for agnes’s plotline in book two while writing her in book one like obviously there’s a breaking point but oh BOY is there a breaking point

#it’s also good to keep in mind because i worry A Lot about her being to much of a passive protagonist in book one then i have to look #in the mirror and just repeat that’s the point that’s the point that’s THE POINT over and over again #she’s trapped and trying to survive by keeping her head down and biting her tongue and smiling through it and trying to be capital g Good #on top of everything there’s a reason her gamechanging plot defining act of agency comes #literally at the end of the book after chapters and chapters of forfeiting that agency to others!! #this is all to say book two agnes i love you you can commit as many atrocities as you want #yes don’t let those grudges go! yes embrace your new power even as it consumes you! yes give in to confusion and rage and grief!!!!!!!! #wip: ghost story #agnes

[nach0]

In the second drabble it mentions "Gem trying to reverse his mistake", apart from reviving him, does Gem at some point after maybe several years of dipping into the dark magic, try to reverse the rapture?

Oh no that was about him blowing himself up more than anything else, she’s too focused on fixing him, making him exactly how he was, to focus on anything else

#nooo don’t let your grief and obsession consume you you’re so sexy haha #<- is ace as hell #blackest of souls au

[natalievoncatte]

Few moments in Alex’s life would stick out like this one. There was a rising panic in her throat, pulsing against her airway. Panic and grief gripped her like icy hands, working to strangle, and she wasn’t sure if what she choked down was a sob or vomit. Her hands trembled as they held the paper. She hadn’t thought of this.

The letterhead read simply, PAST DUE- FINAL NOTICE.

With everything going on, she’d simply forgotten about the matter until she swung by the loft. She should have sent Kelly, should have set up something earlier to deal with this. Kara was six months behind on her rent and she was going to be evicted if she didn’t pay.

Which she never would.

Alex had quietly accepted, about a month ago, that Kara wasn’t coming home, that all their methods had been exhausted, that her sister was lost in an infinite, shattered Phantom Zone, never to be found. She’s finally gotten the martyrdom that she’d been unknowingly seeking since she arrived on Earth.

She was keeping it bottled up, because the others still believed, even Brainy, who had to know the odds.

Alex seethed with a towering rage. There were some nights when, lying awake in Kelly’s arms, she’d fantasize about how she’d punish Clark for failing Kara, or what she’d do to Lex Luthor if she got her hands on him. Sometimes it would even be J’onn she raged at, or Lena.

She saved them all so many times, threw her life and body and soul in front of all them as a shield and took on their misery and suffering on top of her own, and though it was like drops cast in the ocean of Kara Zor-El’s grief, she felt every blow, every loss. Alex’s falling tears stained the letter as she thought of every time Kara paced this apartment, excoriating herself for her failures whenever she couldn’t be in five disasters at once.

Alex didn’t want her to be a superhero. She didn’t want that need to throw herself between others and their own suffering to consume Kara’s life, but it had.

Not for the first time, Alex wished that Kara had just stayed on the ground and let her plane crash. It was a selfish, hateful impulse. Kara would never have let it happen and even if she had, something would have prompted her to put on that red and blue costume and fly. It was what she was for.

Alex raged anyway. Fuck that little shit Wynn for making her a costume. The little pervert probably just wanted to make her try shit on to see her half naked. Fuck J’onn for recruiting her, fuck Clark for abandoning her… and… and…

The paper crumpled and so did Alex, sobbing. This was all her fault. If only…

“Alex?”

She hadn’t heard Lena come in. She’d long ago given up heels. Hell, shed given up. She was a wearing a hoodie that Alex knew was Kara’s and her hair was in a loose ponytail at the base of her neck, and if asked when she last ate or sleep, she’d have lied. Alex already knew the answer: she ate when someone remembered to feed her and she slept on a cot in her lab as she tortured herself.

Lena was the only one that Alex couldn’t rage at because Lena was already punishing herself. Kara would be furious if she knew how they were letting Lena treat her health.

Without a word, Lena gently grasped the letter and Alex released it.

Lena read it, frowning.

Then she pulled out her phone.

“Jess, I have a task for you. I’m going to send you a pic of an eviction letter. I want you to pay off the back rent.”

“Lena,” Alex began.

Lena waved her off.

“I want the building. Set up some shell companies. No one can know it’s me. Try to negotiate so it looks legit, but they can name their price. I want it done by tonight.”

Lena hung up.

“This is her place,” Lena said, softly.

“You didn’t have to do that,” said Alex.

“Yes, I did. This is her place. She deserves to come back to it,” Lena dropped onto the sofa beside her. “I will never give up. I don’t care if I’m still trying to bring her home when I’m old and gray, it’ll be worth it to see her one more time.”

Alex felt a wave of grief overwhelming her.

“Besides,” Lena forced cheer into her voice. “I spent a billion dollars so I could hang out with her at work. What’s an apartment building?”

Alex jolted. It was as if she watched a wine glass, which had toppled and shattered and cast its contents across the floor, leap back into position. As if the shards of crystal returned to their proper places and the cracks sealed, and the wine splashed back to its proper place, not a single shimmering golden drop lost. When the understanding snapped into place, it was like a lightning bolt. She felt too large for her skin, and the fine hairs at the back of her neck stood, as though bearing a charge.

Holy shit. Holy fucking shit. Lena was in love with Kara.

She could see it now. The love radiated from every pore of Lena’s skin, undulled by the grief that draped her like a nighted cloak, as gold shimmered untarnished beneath dust. Alex’s heart was about to break again.

“I have to get back to the lab.”

“Why are you here?” Alex said, softly.

“I was… I’ve been spending the night. I should have asked. I’m sorry.”

“Kara would want you to.”

Kara would want you to move on, Alex thought. She would want you to find someone and be happy and think only of her in fond memories. She would gladly martyr herself for you, too. You above all. She never stopped defending you even when…

Now there were two wine glasses, side by side, almost touching but not quite, promising a toast unsaid.

Oh.

Oh God.

Alex launched off the couch and threw her arms around Lena, holding her tight. Lena recoiled a little; she seemed to dislike hugs, almost like she didn’t understand them, even as she’d melted in Kara’s embrace dozens of times.

How had she been so blind?

“We’ll get her back,” Alex said.

“We will,” said Lena.

Later, Alex stood off to the side, her veins singing with unbridled joy after Kara released her from a full on, no-powers bear hug. She watched as the others embraced her and slapped her back and welcomed her home while Lena stared at here like she couldn’t believe she was real.

Limping, haggard, Kara suffered their joys with quiet reserve, pushing a little closer to her ultimate destination with each one until she stood in front of Lena.

The hug was awkward, tentative, but Kara thrust herself into it after a hesitant moment and Lena molded against her, the pair standing cheek to cheek a beat too long. Lena pulled back and Kara pulled after her, leaning in, only to dance back and do that awkward little shift.

“Kara,” Alex blurted. “For fuck’s sake, just do it.”

Kara looked at her, wide-eyed and a little betrayed. Kara was beyond honest to a fault: Alex knew that after Kara nervously told her about the infamous “I flew here on a bus “ incident. Kara was honest to the core of her very being, sickened by the act of lying.

To Alex’s surprise, it was Lena’s hands on Kara’s shoulders that turned her away. Kara looked back and her and Lena brought her hands to Kara’s cheeks, resting her palms against the abnormally pale skin of her face. Kara froze for two heartbeats and then gently put her hands on Lena’s sides and pulled her in, there bodies slotting together as their lips found one another, Kara leaning over Lena a little more with the added height of her boots as Lena collapsed into her, tears glittering on her cheeks. The kiss carried on until Alex cleared her throat.

Everyone in the room was stunned save Alex.

“Guys,” she said, “let’s give them a little privacy, huh? We can celebrate later.”

As the others filed out of the room, Lena raised her head from where it had lain on Kara’s shoulder and mouthed a silent thank you.

#supercorp #supergirl fanfiction #supergirl #supercorp fanfic #lena luthor #kara danvers #kara x lena #karlena #supergirl fanfic #ficlet #return from the phantom zone #grief and joy #or as I call it: groy #angst and fluff #angst with a happy ending #first kiss #first supercorp kiss #supercorp first kiss

[k4vehrtz]

NYMPHOLOGY. satoru gojo / sub! m. reader

synopsis. satoru will miss ‘that person’ forever.

word count. 1k . ✦ . warnings. prince! gojo / nymph! reader / discussions of grief / unprotected sex as a means of trade sort of

notes. inspired by that one artwork “he ate my heart” — sorry for starving you guys :(

SUGURU WOULD’VE BEEN the first to admit that they were lost. at least, that’s what satoru thinks, anyway. it’s been four years — his memories of what he now considered a lighter time in his life felt more distant than anything else.

his companion was, beyond a reasonable doubt, ‘gone’. this was the reality of his circumstances. a reality he couldn’t bring himself to accept; a reality where half of his heart had become another name on the list of people who’d disappeared without a trace.

“why have you come here?”

he’d wondered the same thing — what did he intend to achieve by doing this?

“…for answers?” it’s the most obvious response but he doesn’t care. he’s gradually become this; found himself caring less and less. ‘there’s not much left to lose when you’ve already lost it all,’ he thinks.

and you’re no stranger to this plague of human emotion. it came to be a familiar display after ‘that place’ resumed activity.

“that…” you pause, pressing your lips together, “i acknowledge your status as the heir to the human throne but my answer remains the same — i don’t know,” before crossing your hands in front of your chest.

he’d expected this much; you’re not exactly known for being lenient. but it was worth a shot.

“that person,” satoru couldn’t bring himself to say his name, “studied your kind in his free time,” especially not within this context.

it’s not necessarily a surprise to you either. of course, you’re not acquainted with ‘that person’ but human beings are inherently curious. curious about ‘that place’ and the ‘people’ that live there.

“your point being?” you counter, nose crinkling.

satoru swallows thickly. ‘be careful,’ suguru had warned as their knees knocked together, child–like fingers curling in the dirt, ‘nymphs are alluring but they’re dangerous’. and for a moment, he’d wished he had listened.

there’s no turning back now though. you’re standing in front of him, the sun’s rays reflecting on your skin and the wind carrying the scent of flowers as you await an answer.

“i want to be surrounded by what he enjoyed most — ‘this place’ was his all–consuming love.”

the colour drains from your face in an instant. you don’t know whether you should laugh or cry. ‘this place’ and ‘all–consuming love’ used in the same sentence is…well, it shouldn’t be paired.

“you got lost on purpose?” it’s more of a statement than a question but satoru responds anyway: “i want to be ‘consumed’ too.”

‘this place’ had ‘consumed’ his companion four years ago. and maybe, if that person could see him now, he’d be disappointed. but he wouldn’t have been surprised. this was the type of person satoru was, is, and will continue to be.

a man with half a heart because he’d given the other half to suguru. and for a moment, he’d wished he hadn’t. yet another thing he’d found himself doing more and more — wishing.

“you’re…not like the others,” you murmur and he smiles knowingly.

THE POMEGRANATE was a sacred symbol of life itself.

“there are other —” he moves his thumb over your lower lip, as tears blur your vision “— ways.”

or, rather, the ‘sequence’ of life. one’s fertility and the pause in fertility; one’s mortality, and inevitably the fruit of the dead.

“you’re right,” he agrees easily and you let out a breathy laugh, “but this is the most enjoyable, is it not?”

you don’t deny it, and a corner of his mouth lifts.

and his lips are warm against yours. it’s strange at first, the residual warmth it leaves in your body in its wake. a warmth that promotes blood flow in the direction of your cock. you’re hard, pre–cum leaking from the slit atop your pulsating cockhead.

satoru continues to kiss you though. he sinks his teeth into the fat of your lower lip, prompting them to part, an open–mouthed whimper bouncing off the inner walls of your cheeks instantaneously. and your brows ratchet up, a crease forming between them, as you lower your gaze to satoru whose tongue slithers into your mouth.

‘you taste like pomegranate,’ he thinks to himself as he pokes at your tear–stained cheek, ‘definitely pomegranate’.

when he breaks the kiss, you’re breathless, your chest rising and falling in sync with your shoulders. but he wastes not a moment — understanding better than anyone else the unpredictability of the flow of time.

his hands pressed into your sides, holding you in place, and only letting go momentarily to free his cock from its constraints. he’s hard too, you notice, standing at full mast and curving inwards slightly.

“please,” your voice is no more than a quiet plea that a gentle breeze carries to satoru’s ear, your spine stiff and muscles tense, “be gentle.”

and his gaze softens at that, bringing a hand up to your face to caress your cheek like it’s a promise. it’s not his intention to hurt you.

but it does hurt to some degree after he aligns his cock with your entrance, pushing past that tight ring of muscle. the only difference is that he’s comforting you through the process. alternating between his forehead pressed against yours and locking his lips with yours.

key word there being ‘process’.

“i’m sorry.”

his voice mirrors your quietness, eliciting the rise of goosebumps on your skin even as you writhe beneath him whilst he bucks his hips into you. you’re not sure who the apology is directed to but you choose not to linger on it anyway.

there’s no going back now — ‘this place’ won’t allow it.

“b...by doing this — ” your voice raises in pitch, your gasps audible, “you’ve sealed your faith princeling.” and satoru hums as his movements become somewhat erratic. “you’re only,” his hips stutter mid–sentence, “doing what i asked of you,” and he lowers his lips to your ear, “you’ll both forgive me,” before his cock spurts ropes of cum into you in sync with your orgasm.

#x male reader smut #x bottom male reader #gojo x male reader #gojo x male reader smut #x sub male reader #jjk x male reader #jjk smut #jjk x you #gojo smut #jujutsu kaisen smut #gojo x you #male reader smut

[ponderingmoonlight]

Sharing a bed with Levi for the first time after he came back

Just a little aftercare for this fic (click to read)

You still can’t believe your own luck. After all those years you endured this merciless war underneath the surface, all those years you prayed for your beloved husband to come back. And now he’s sitting next to you in the dim candle light far past midnight while reading through a tower of papers. And you simply cannot bring yourself to let go of him.

How are you supposed to ever let him go again when last time, you didn’t see him for years after?

“You should go to sleep, love. It was a long day”, he gently murmurs into your hair.

Looking up at him through sleep-deprived wet lashes still seems like a dream. Just the feeling of his warmth pressed against yours, his tight biceps between your eager arms, his minty smell you remember oh so well. It really seems like nothing changed.

But the look on his face tells you otherwise. Those dark circles that get enhanced by the dim moonlight don’t lie as well as the worry lines that now decorate his face. There is absolutely no doubt in the fact that Levi went through a lot without you. Your heart clenches uncomfortably inside your chest, arms holding onto him even tighter.

“I was wondering…If you’d mind sharing a bed with me…”, you mutter.

Why on earth are you acting so shy right now? The man sitting next to you is your husband, after all.

Levi lays the paper he just read through aside, hand lifting your chin up ever so gently.

“I don’t remember when I last slept a night, (y/n)”, he admits while putting strands of hair behind your ear mindlessly.

"It seems like I forgot how it works the day I lost you."

Your heart drops to the floor, eyes wavering in nothing but grief. What did he go through without you by his side, what horror did his grey eyes see? Out of instinct, you put your hand into his nape, draw his lips even closer to yours until they finally meet in a tender kiss.

“Let me show you how it’s done, then”, you whisper against his softness before you lift yourself up.

The air in the room around you seems to sparkle while your hand guides him to the plain single bed standing in the middle of the room. Countless nights, you imagined the love of your life back by your side. Countless nights, you tried to remember what his body feels like pressed against yours, his soft breath caressing your cheek every morning.

You let yourself fall onto the hard mattress, the bed not giving in an inch by your weight. Levi soon follows behind, his now dark eyes glued to your face.

“You can’t imagine how much I missed this. Since the day I had to leave you behind, I didn’t allow myself to fall asleep without holding you between my arms when I wake up.”

You feel like crying and giggling at the same time, a sad smile decorating your lips. Oh, how much you missed your husband, how much you longed for sharing a bed with him again.

“But now you can. Trust me when I say I’ll never leave your side again. No matter what. Even if you push me away.”

Oh, how good it feels to press your head against his firm chest, his steady heartbeat making you feel like home.

“I would never push you away, (y/n).”

He wraps his arms around your shoulders and waist gently, pushes you even closer against his inviting body. For the first time since you finally got your husband back, you allow your eyes to rest, to take a break from constantly gazing at him.

Slowly but surely, you feel his steady breath against your forehead, how his firm muscles relax around you just before you yourself get consumed by darkness.

What a bittersweet and tender night it is, finally sharing the same bed with your husband after longing for him countless nights.

#aot levi #levi aot #aot #aot x reader #attack on titan #shingeki no kyojin #aot fluff #levi fluff #levi attack on titan #levi ackerman #captain levi #levi x reader #husband levi #levi x you #levi x y/n #aot x y/n #aot x you #aot fanfiction #aot fanfic #aot fandom #aot masterlist #attack on titan x reader #levi ackermann x reader #levi ackermann x you #levi ackerman x reader #levi angst

[aether-starlight]

Mending - Zayne

Pairing: Zayne x Reader

Warnings: None.

Word count: 1k

Summary: Grandma and Caleb’s absence is hard on you. When you find yourself in the emergency ward, Zayne shows up with a helping hand.

Zayne was the one to break the news of Grandma and Caleb’s passing to you.

The memory was a blur, a concentration of words that blended one into the other until they became a whole different language.

You hated to admit that for a moment you had wished you had gone with them. Then you wouldn’t have to feel so alone.

Burying yourself in missions and textbooks had come as easy as breathing afterward. The less time you had to spare, the less you thought about them.

It gave you a sick kind of relief not to have to remember your Grandma’s voice or her delicious cooking. The scent of her home or the wrinkles from smiling that framed her eyes.

Forgetting Caleb’s easy laughter and the weight of his arm draped over your shoulders felt infinitely easier than knowing you wouldn’t have it ever again.

Until the day came when working wasn’t enough. Missing them had become a phantom pain you could not get rid of.

Your poor sleep schedule and foggy mind caught up to you, and it was a little surprise that you ended up in the emergency ward.

It was pure carelessness, the way you had disconnected yourself from your body, how you hadn’t felt the graze of claws until you were slammed into your back.

Now you were bandaged up — with a dislocated shoulder—, and trying to remain focused as a nurse asked you if you had consumed any kind of sedative or psychoactive substance.

“I didn’t.” Your voice managed to crack in between those two words.

The nurse eyed you doubtfully, tracing the dark circles beneath your eyes and the fisted hands tightly pressed to your lap.

“I can take it from here, thank you.” A familiar voice broke through before she could inquire further.

“Zayne,” you called, feeling some of the tension upon your shoulders wane.

He pushed the curtains to your section closed, stepping until his thighs were a breath away from your knees.

Your foolish heart sped up when he leaned down until your eyes were at the same level.

He smelled like usual, something fresh and light, a trace of soap and lavender beneath the hospital’s antiseptic.

“I think I recommended that you rest and maintain good sleep hygiene as you recover.” He paused, assessing your reaction. “I believe I also suggested for you to see a grief counselor before returning to the field.”

You cleared your throat, forcing your voice to not come out as weak as it felt.

“I did. Go to the counselor, that is.”

“What about sleeping?” It was a futile question, for you both knew the answer.

“I can’t help it if it’s hard for me.”

You closed your eyes, furious at how defeated you sounded.

Zayne’s voice became softer, his hand pressing into your uninjured shoulder.

“Nightmares?”

You nodded.

“Look at me.”

When you opened your eyes there was no judgment in his face. You almost would dare say he seemed worried.

“You went through an extremely traumatic experience. No one would blame you for needing help.”

Your eyes stung.

“What help could you give me?” It wasn’t necessarily hostile, if anything, your tone was curious.

Zayne let out a slow breath, pulling back, face clouded with contemplation.

“My shift is over. Come with me.”

At your widened eyes, he hastened to add: “We’ll talk. Have a cup of tea. It will help you regulate your emotions and promote the release of serotonin, necessary for sleep.”

The ghost of a smile pulled at your lips. Zayne had a peculiar way of being sweet without meaning to.

“Okay.”

“I can’t sleep.” You mumbled into the dark.

After hours of talking it had gotten quite late, and given your arm predicament, you were unfit to ride your motorcycle back home.

Zayne had kindly offered for you to sleep in his bed and was now on a futon beside it.

“What’s on your mind?” He asked, patient as usual.

“Things I don’t want to remember.”

The deafening sound of the explosion, the ringing in your ears afterward. Caleb’s last smile to you, and glimpses of your home blazed alight.

You closed your eyes as if that could stop the memories from pouring in.

“Can you come here, please?” You asked, feeling incredibly small. It wasn’t a feeling you cherished.

Zayne sighed lightly, but it wasn’t exactly annoyed.

“Alright.”

He laid carefully beside you, leaving a proper space between your bodies.

Your hand automatically reached forward, intertwining your fingers with his.

His hand was cold, but it felt nice, a break from the heated panic you found yourself in lately.

“Do you want to discuss it?”

“I don’t think I can.” You said honestly, then whispering: “I don’t want to break, Zayne.”

His hand tightened in yours.

“You’re not breaking. You are mending.”

A small smile cracked through your lips.

“Thanks. I hope so.”

A heartbeat passed before Zayne spoke again.

“What if…?”

“What?”

He shifted in place, turning so he was looking at the ceiling instead of you.

“Forget it.”

“Zayne.”

He sighed, knowing you wouldn’t let it go.

“What if we do that mindfulness exercise your yoga teacher taught you? The one you showed me.”

You smiled lightly.

“I’d like that.”

“Alright,” he murmured. “Close your eyes.”

“You’re supposed to cover them with your hand, silly.”

He huffed a small laugh.

“So impatient.”

Any mirth vanished from the air when he shifted closer, until your side was pressed to his chest.

“Are you comfortable with this?” He asked.

You nodded, adding in a quiet: “yes,” for good measure.

Zayne’s lips hovered close to your ear, breath fresh and just a bit cold. The mint of his toothpaste sent a shiver down your spine.

He smelled more of lavender and less of antiseptic now, his pajamas’ shirt soft against your arm.

When his hand covered your eyes, you let out a soft breath.

“We are children and you are coming home from school. We run into each other,” he whispers. “I approach you and treat you to something sweet…”

That night no nightmares come for you.

When you wake up, Zayne’s hand is cradling your cheek.

#love and deep space #love and deep space zayne #zayne love and deepspace #zayne x reader

[bioethicists]

beer killed my father . he had a disease which destroyed his body and strained his relationships with his wife, his friends, and his children. Alcohol destroys everything it touches, theres a reason you see so many liquor stores in poor neighborhoods. don’t be fucking obtuse. Prohibition obviously doesn’t work, but I wish alcohol was taxed higher. And i want the CEO of Heineken on the guillotine right after Jeff Bezos.

before anything, i want to let you know that i am incredibly sorry about your father. alcohol has decimated entire generations of my family, played a crucial role in the neglectful family structure i spent the first 19 years of my life suffering under, + played a minor but not insignificant role in my brother's death. i would never undermine or dismiss that in anyone.

i used to feel very similarly to you, in large part because my mother is a recovering alcoholic who raised me to believe that alcohol is a magic poison which turns people into monsters + i, being her child, probably inherited a disease which would also turn me into a monster if i chose to drink. it's a deeply painful + understandable response to the pain that alcohol can cause.

my first question is, does alcohol really "destroy everything it touches"? are there not millions of people who engage with alcohol, in varying degrees of recreational use, who experience minimal or no negative impacts? or do you believe that everyone who drinks alcohol in any capacity is experiencing severe destruction in their lives as a result? does the existence of people for whom alcohol enriches their lives (or is a neutral presence) at all invalidate your experience, or your father's?

my second question is, you've identified that there are 'so many liquor stores in poor neighborhoods' (i would add there is a lot of alcohol in rich neighborhoods, just distributed in less stigmatized ways, like boutique wineries + fancy bars), do you think that companies are strategically attempting to create alcohol dependencies among poor people, or do you think that poverty creates the pain, hopelessness, + desperation which can fuel an alcohol habit (which is then exacerbated by intergenerational trauma + community alcohol culture).

i feel no allegiance to liquor companies- they absolutely do make the bulk of their profits off of people who are drinking in a way that is destroying their lives (unsure if i trust the exact scope of the research in that link but i trust the gist). however, liquor companies love the disease model, because it exempts them from responsibility. if alcoholism is truly a genetic disease, then liquor companies, bars, package stores hold no fault in the development of destructive drinking habits + community norms (natasha Schüll discusses this in her book about gambling addiction)- the people were already sick + would be getting it somewhere else, anyway, right? but as you have correctly identified, liquor companies help create the structures which turn alcohol use into an accessible + normalized mode of self-destruction.

my third question is, will taxing liquor help the real problem? yes, it reduces alcohol consumption, but does it reduce addiction? or does it make cheapskates like me say "i'm not fucking paying for that" while individuals who consume alcohol compulsively either eat the cost or turn to more illicit ways of obtaining alcohol. or, rephrased, is the problem that alcohol is too accessible? is alcohol a magical poison which turns 'normal' people into 'alcoholics'? alternatively, is alcoholism a genetic condition, unrelated to any outside circumstances, which is triggered by drinking?

or: is alcoholism one of many ways in which people who are experiencing hopelessness, pain, grief, poverty, trauma, etc use to numb themselves, harm themselves, + make life feel more bearable? at this point, i do believe there is at least a temperament factor which makes people more likely to use substances over other forms of escape (hence why my brother used substances while i turned to anorexia + do not struggle with substance use). are we actually addressing the problem if we make it more expensive (thus, mind you, further impoverishing people with alcohol addictions!)? or are we shifting the pain these people are experiencing to either other avenues (opioids, other drugs, totally different ways of coping which are often just as destructive) or an unregulated, underground alcohol market.

the way you are viewing alcohol, alcohol is a unique substance which is manufacturing or feeding illness in people in order to make them behave in ways which destroy their lives + the lives of others. the way i am viewing it, alcohol is a presence which can fill a void that is being created in people's lives as a response to structural, communal, or social suffering. when alcohol is painted as the cause of this pain, we are able to look the other way from a which world is structured to cause an immense amount of people to suffer needlessly. at the same time, the common sense observation that many of us engage with alcohol in ways which do not destroy our lives, as well as the knowledge that prohibition does not work, prevents the erasure of alcohol from public or private life.

who benefits from the belief that alcohol is a uniquely corrupting substance? what lessons did we actually learn from prohibition- is trying to do it to a lesser degree (make alcohol less accessible) actually going to do anything? when the price of opioids went up due to dea crackdowns, did people stop buying opioids or did the market flood with cheap + deadly fentanyl? is the problem that people are drinking or that they are suffering?

#substance use #harm reduction #drugs // #alcohol // #death //

[libertyybellls]

I DON'T KNOW WHY I BITE ?

pairing; finnick odair x f!reader

summary; few years after winning his games, finnick endures the trials of being a victor and all he needs is a helping hand.

contains; ANGST, comfort, descriptions of forced prostitution, descriptions of gore, murder, typical hunger games mortality etc etc. not proofread… ever

☾⋆｡𖦹 °✩

the room once filled with a bond you could not quite replace, is now empty, gray. it lacks the golden boy who brings light to every aspect of your life- and it has been for two months now.

you know where he is, what he’s doing, and who he’s with. you know the light of his soul will be snuffed away by the calloused deceiving hands of the capitol- their everlasting appetite to claim their control over citizens and victors alike.

you almost dread the sound of your front door unlocking. your mind manifesting his misery would be long gone- begging to a higher power that he will be okay- that the pillars of his body are not crumbling in on itself.

nevertheless, as you near the front door- you see it in his eyes. he almost looks like the same 14 year old that got thrown into a death match and came out with two legs and two arms- but this time his legs can’t carry him any longer, his arms are practically hanging off his tired body.

the door is still open behind him, the chilled air seeping its way into your once warm home. his shoulders are slumped, there is no light in his eyes- only that small tinge he adorns when he is with you.

you want to pull him into your arms, to kiss the disgust off of his features, to show him he is unworthy of this muck treatment, that he is the only light that cannot be choked out, the anchor that is not misplaced, he is right where he needs to be now.

there’s a silent understanding, you can see the falter in his steps as he tries to walk towards you- so close to disintegration you can almost see his seams falling apart one by one.

you meet him halfway- pulling him into you- now you must be his pillar. you must cover his ears, quiet his thoughts.

his tears coat your shirt, your fingers run through his scalp. he wants to crawl out of his skin. he can still feel a touch that isn’t yours- it sets his nerves alight.

why won’t you leave me. his mind screams- but his voice can’t carry these words. leave me here, let me rot.

you can feel him self destruct, his knees fail and now you are kneeling infront of his vulnerable frame. you want him to look at you, to see what you see, but who are you to ask for more?

but all he sees is grief, blood from kids his age- even younger, he feels hands all along his chest- his back, he smells roses- luxury- a scent that isn’t home, he tastes metallic blood from his lips- gnawing from anxiety, he hears the praises- he hears that he’s special, that he’s so humble, what a handsome young man he is.

“i wish i could be good.”

you can’t see his face, you are glad in a way- you don’t think you’d be able to take it. “you are good finnick,” your own tears fall. “if anything you are good.”

you want to yell these words, scream them at him. so inconsiderate of you- but how dare he not see this is not his fault? a puppet has no control over his own arms.

finnicks mind screams more at the capital than himself now. your tactics have worked. you have taken every last bit of my innocence away. you control me. he begs to be left alone, he begs to be so pure and unsuspecting again.

you both know his fate, you know where he’ll be in a few years. you know that your love alone cannot keep him here- however strong. every inhale feels like poison- but he listens to you murmur as you rub his back, telling him to breath.

you see his eyes now, he tries to drink in your gaze- he wants it to be the last thing he sees, except less concerned, less worn, less worried. despite his thoughts only ever consumed by you, he looked pained- he looks as though he is elsewhere in his mind.

“nothings gonna hurt you now” sanity is a sheltered lie but you would rather surrender your wits than your boy. your fingers dance up and down his back now- erasing the sinful marks left laying in his mind.

-

so short so technically a blurb but wtv….

#finnick odair fluff #finnick fluff #finnick odair x reader #finnick imagine #finnick odair smut #finnick angst #finnick oneshot #finnick smut #finnick fanfic #finnick odair #finnick x reader #finnick x you #finnick x y/n

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

The Farmer's Daughter 8

Warnings: non/dubcon, and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Characters: Walter Marshall

Summary: You notice a peculiar change in a family friend. (short!reader, sorry size kink is out)

Part of the Backwoods AU

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging.

You finally manage to quell your sobs. A slight trickle stains your cheeks and falls onto Walter’s shirt. You sniffle and reach to wipe your nose with the back of your hand. As you do, your fingers brush against his chest. 

You hear his heartbeat, steady as you’re anything but. He’s warm and soft and sturdy. You feel a sudden rush of guilt for spilling all this out on him. You slowly sit up, pulling away as Walter gently, almost reluctantly, slackens his embrace. 

“I’m sorry, I–” you raise your head but find your words smothered.

You don’t realise what’s going on at first. Walter’s hand cradles your face as his lips press to yours, tilting your chin up as his thumb slides under it. You hum in surprise, eyes round as the scent of his sweat invades your nose.

You put your hand flat to his chest and push. You bring your other up and shove until he lets you go. His arm falls away and you turn, shifting and sliding off the step. You stand, dizzy and confused, clutching your splitting head.

“I… I’m sorry,” he stammers as he rises too.

You run past him up the steps, legs wobbling, skull pulsing from the hangover of your grief. You push the door inwards and clamour inside. You don’t stop. You barrel upstairs and down to your door, swinging inside with a careless snap of wood on wood.

You lean on the door and slowly slide down, knees bent to your chest as you hang your head forward and shield it with your arms. You hear shuffling and a set of hinges groan. Footsteps pad quietly outside your door.

“Honey, are you okay?” Your mom calls through.

“Yes,” you force out evenly, the effort further thumping in your temples.

“Oh, uh, I’ll be downstairs,” she says, her voice silty with sleep, “you in the mood for coffee?”

“No thank you,” you eke out.

You wait until she’s gone before you can breathe again. It can’t be real. That can’t have happened. You really didn’t believe it when your mother said it. Walter? Why would he ever think of you like that? And now? Of all times?

Your father is sick, your mother is in shambles, and life is already so complicated. It isn’t that he’s a bad guy, he’s nice and helpful and all of that. It’s just that you’re already scared and lost. It would only make things so much more complicated.

🌾

You stay in your room for the rest of the night. When your mother comes to check on you, you tell her you have cramps. Your period isn’t due anytime soon but PMS can be a bitch. Just as much as life can.

She leaves a plate on your nightstand regardless and you thank her. You’re not very hungry and only pick at it before giving up on the meal. You wallow in your restless discomfort. Your head pounds until you’re nearly delirious.

You fall into a sleep less than refreshing. Your headache follows you into the void and its shadow greets you with the daylight. You wake and roll over, unready for the day but knowing you must face it. You wash and dress and head down to pretend everything is okay. Again.

You start on breakfast as your mom has yet to appear. You don’t mind, it keeps you busy. You count out the eggs and strips of bacon, a few sausages too. You stack a plate with bread ready to toast and yawn over the percolator as you put it on to boil.

You hear tires and an engine. You go rigid, frozen as you stand at the counter. What do you do? Go get your mother? Help her with dad? Or Timothy? He can keep Walter distracted.

Too late. There’s footsteps on the porch then a tap on the frame of the screen door. You panic and clear your throat. Nothing happened. Nothing’s changed.

“Come on in,” you call and pull out a skillet to heat up.

The front door opens and your ears tweak as you listen to his movement. Deliberate and drawn out, as if he’s also avoiding you. You keep your back to the door as you work at the stove, adding a touch of oil to the pan.

He enters, his shadow flickering over the wall, and you sense him. Is he watching you? You refuse to look back and check in fear of being caught. You grab the sausage and the bacon and lay them out on an oven sheet.

“Good morning,” Walter says.

“Good morning,” you return in a small squeak.

He’s silent. Neither of you know what to say. Each time you try to think of something, the friction of your lips remind you of the feel of his. You hadn’t been thinking in the moment but you remember how soft but determined he was.

Why would he do that? After you were just bawling on his shoulder? Seeing you like that, a mess, vulnerable, half-broken? Your stomach knots as you keep your hands moving and eyes averted.

“How are you?” He asks in a strained timbre.

“Fine,” you answer sharply, taking a breath to ease your tone, “you?”

“Tired,” he says, “you need any help?”

He steps forward and you shy away. You stop yourself from going any further and shake your head, “I got it.”

“Right, I…” he begins.

“Alright, Patty,” your mom’s voice wafts from upstairs, “that’s it. You’re doing so well.”

“Oh, I gotta–”

You turn with the spatula and nearly run into Walter as he also moves towards the door. You stop as you face each other, wavering as you stare. His jaw squares and his cheek twitches, his eyes sparkling.

“You’re cooking. I’ll help.”

“Really, you do too much–”

“I know,” he agrees staunchly and turns away, “too damn much.”

He strides out and you stand there. What does he mean? Too much of what? Well, you can’t ask from him. He has helped more than he should, but is that what he means? Or does he mean… that? 

He wouldn’t just walk away because of that, would he?

#walter marshall #dark walter marshall #dark!walter marshall #walter marshal x reader #drabble #au #backwoods au #series #the farmer's daughter #night hunter

[outsideratheart]

Home Part 2 (Alexia Putellas x reader)

A/N: Sorry it’s taken me so long to get this next part out but writer’s block has been a bitch.

You spent much longer mingling and people pleasing than you had hoped. The plan was to do a quick lap of the room then spend the night with you family only that didn’t happen. At first you were worried about Alexia, with her being in an environment that was unfamiliar and surrounded by people she didn’t know but every time you looked over you found her having a blast with your sister in laws. You wonder if she missed your presence but that question was quickly answered when you returned to her.

The Cruyffs; present, future and Alexia were all at the bar. She feels you beside her and just as she turns around someone pushes into you and you find yourself very close to Alexia.

“Hello you” you whisper. 

With the close proximity you could smell Alexia’s perfume. It was your perfume which she must have taken from your bag when you wasn’t looking. 

“Have you done your duties?” Alexia asks and you nods your head, a smirk tugging at your lips “then you can have another one of these?” 

She takes a shot from your brother and hands it to you. It seems that Alexia’s new found comfort was all thanks to the liqueur which you knew is drank by the bottle at events like this.

“Thank you” you take the shot without breaking eye contact.

Even after the mouthful of alcohol you cannot take your eyes off Alexia. She truly did look beautiful. This event had been the reason for so much anxiety but since touching down in the city you barely felt any of it and you knew that the reason was the woman standing in front of you.  You wasn’t feeling grief and you wasn’t consumed by the past. Alexia made you focus on the present and you cannot remember being this happy in years.

“I think we should leave” you whisper in her ear. Your hand sat dangerously low on her back.

“Why would you want to do that?” Alexia asks and you can tell that she genuinely wanted to stay.

“Because there’s things I want to do and I can’t do them here” 

“And what would that be?” Alexia again asked a question but the change in her tone told you she knew exactly what was going through your mind. She also have the confidence given the confession Liv and Mia made earlier.

“Let me take you home and I will show you” 

At this point Alexia pulls away to get a better look at you and to see if your being serious but with the hold you have on her you are able to pull her back towards you. 

“Not to interrupt your moment” Luuk says apologetically

“Again” Jordi adds earning a slap from you.

His words gain the attention of the others. No doubt them all wondering what he meant by again.

“You know the rules Y/N. The children have to stay till 11 then we are free to go” 

“2 hours” Alexia says after looking at her watch.

“Me and Jordi normally leave earlier than that and leave Luuk to deal with mum” 

You and Jordi share a look. He may technically be older but the two of you are like twins and your mother knows best than to force to be somewhere you don’t want to be. She did it before and you both caused havoc which lead to you father kicking you out of the event.

“Give it an hour then we will sneak out” 

Alexia nods her head wondering whether or not the next hour will pass by quickly or if it will drag. It wasn’t a thought that lasted long because you pulled her to the dance floor. It wasn’t like a dance floor at a club but the Cruyffs knew how to have a good time so there were plenty of guests dancing the night away. It meant you and her were able to blend in without bringing too much attention.

The idea of dancing came from an innocent place, well a mostly innocent place. You wanted to find a way to pass time but the intention soon changed when you found yourself dancing against Alexia and felt her hand on your lower abdomen. It wasn’t dirty dancing but it was enough to flood your mind with less than innocent thoughts. 

“Stop” you lean back so Alexia can hear you.

“I’m not doing anything” 

Whilst she was right, she also couldn’t be more wrong.

You could feel her breath on your neck, it was overwhelming. 

“We’re leaving. Now” you grab her hand pulling her towards the exit. You couldn’t care less what you mother would say about your early departure. The only thing you cared about was the Catalonian beauty you were about to take home.

The car ride was filled with anticipation. Very few words were exchanged and truth be told neither of you had a lot to say. Enough had been said and from the words that had been spoken, you and Alexia were able to read between the lines.

You grab Alexia’s hand the moment you are through the door as you lead her upstairs to your bedroom, to the room the two of you were to share for night. 

This wasn’t you first time nor was it Alexia’s but you weren’t in any rush.

“Will you help me, porfa?” Alexia asks. 

The brunette turns around and pulls her hair to the side to give you better access to the zip of her dress. Given that she had already taken off her heels, you k=now had the height advantage. You stood behind her but instead of undoing her dress like Alexia asked, you rest you hands on her hips and place a soft kiss to the side of her neck. 

“Don’t tease” Alexia makes no effort to move, instead relishing in the feeling that is your lips against her skin.

“As you wish” with one last kiss you turn you attention back to the zip making sure to take your time. Once you are done you tap Alexia on her hip assuming that she plans on going to the bathroom to take it off only that isn’t her plan.

“Take it off” Alexia turns to face you. 

Her eyes are dark and you see the lust growing within them. She wants what you want yet you find yourself hesitating. You hand sits on her shoulder, on the top of the material of her dress but you make no move to rid her of it. 

“What are you waiting for? Is something wrong?” 

“I’m taking in the moment in case it never happens again” 

It took a second for Alexia to recognise the look in your eye. It was a mixture of uncertainty and insecurity. She wasn’t sure if you would believe her words so she showed you how much the moment meant to her. The brunette leans forward and gently placed her lips on your own. There is no hunger or desperation. The kiss slow but filled with more passion than either of you had ever experienced before. 

With a new found confidence and a focus on the present you pull the straps down exposing her perfect body. Once the dress is on the ground you take her hand and help her out of it. 

She stands in front of you in nothing but a black lace matching set. 

“You. Are. Beautiful” you tell her, each word followed by a kiss to her lips. 

“Can I?” Alexia asks as she plays with the fabric on the front of your dress. 

It seemed only fair that you let her undress you so you nod in agreement and before you know you are both standing in nothing but your underwear. 

“I want you Y/N. I have since the first night I met you. I only wish I would have told you sooner” 

“I’m right here and I’m all yours” no words had ever been more true than these in this very moment. 

Hearing you say those words was like music to Alexia’s ears. It was a sweet melody at the beginning on the song that would be your first night together.

This woman who you had known for less than a year knew your body as if it was her own. Each movement made you want more. Every touch set your body on fire and every kiss make you believe that the love you saw in movies was possible. She knew just what to do for you to reach a new climatic height and you in suit showed her just how much you worshipped her body.

Your bodies collapsed on the bed a couple of hours later and it seemed to be perfect timing because just as Alexia laid her head on your chest, you heard the rest of the family come through the front door. Knowing that they wouldn’t come in, you made no effort to move and you tightened your hold on Alexia so that she didn’t move either.

 As you lay there the silence caused your mind to wander and to no surprise of your own it goes back over the intimacy you and Alexia had just shared.

Alexia felt the hitch in your breath. She adjusts her position and sees you staring deeply at the ceiling. 

“Hola, what’s going on in the beautiful head of yours?” 

You didn’t feel her move but you certainly wasn’t complaining about the closeness that Alexia was currently in.

“Did that—does this—“ You didn’t want to finish either sentence because you knew that there was a chance Alexia would answer in the worst way possible.

“You told me you’re mine and now I’m telling you that I’m yours Y/N, there is nobody else out there for me. That much I know is true”

“I was hoping you’d say something like that” 

The woman laid back down in your arms and remained quiet. It took a couple of minutes for you to realise it was because she had fallen asleep, clearly exhausted by the nights events.

The smile that tugs on your lips is out of your control. It seemed to be a theme with Alexia. She had all the control, all the power and held all the cards. You didn’t have a choice in falling for her, nor did you have a choice when she became the highlight of your day. Her company is the one your crave for. For Alexia you let your heart lead and it lead you to her.

#legacy series #alexia putellas x reader #alexia putellas imagine #alexia putellas one shot #woso x reader #woso imagine #woso one shot #barcelona femeni x reader #barcelona femeni one shot #Barcelona femeni imagine #espwnt x reader #espwnt one shot #espwnt imagine

[lvrcpid]

imagine being neteyams twin and dying along with him.

includes: gn!reader. they/them pronouns. neteyams death..AGAIN! getting “shot”. blood. death. grief. the afterlife. neteyamxreader (platonic!) i totally pulled this concept from my ass so if it doesn’t make a lick of sense i am SO SORRY. ANGSTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTT mwah love y’all.

in na’vi culture it’s unusual to carry twins. the na’vi body isn’t really meant to carry two babies at one time. but somehow your mother did it. although the pregnancy was difficult, she powered through and gave birth to two babies. neteyam and (y/n). you had come out a little bit after neteyam, making him the oldest. watching the two newborns sleep cozily in their moms arms made jake well up with tears. his little family was starting.

another thing in na’vi culture which goes unsaid is when a twin dies. the other one dies as well. they feel and see eachothers pain too. one time when neteyam got cut, you also felt the pain of his cut, the gash leaving a scar on both of your bodies. in the same place.

the na’vi people don’t understand this predicament. it just happened. the one thing they couldn’t understand. while jake and neytiri were happy and felt blessed by this, they also worried.

if we lose one kid. we lose another.

your parents had informed you of this many times while growing up with your brother. sugar coating it seeing as though you two were still too young to understand the concept of death. all you knew was ‘if neteyam gets hurt. i get hurt too’ vise versa.

you both did a relatively good job keeping eachother safe until the sky people arrived and that fateful day struck your family, tarnishing their hearts forever.

—————————————————————————————

you felt a sharp pang in your chest, a feeling of dread and sluggishness consumed your body like the plague, brushing it off as something minor. but when you couldn’t shake the feeling. something hurt but you didn’t know what. you knew something was wrong.

“(y/n)! come quick it’s neteyam!” your youngest brother, lo’ak called to you frantically, he knew since neteyam was hit that you were as well. you stood up from your seat and immediately felt dizzy, feeling a substance trickle down your chest and down your back, sending chills down your spine. you were bleeding. there was a coin sized hole that wasn’t there before. that’s when it hit you.

neteyam had been shot.

neteyam was dying. and so were you.

panic sky rocketed through your body as you stumbled out to your family, your mother quickly scooping you and laying you next to your brother. your health declining rapidly as blood began to pool your mouth.

jake stared in horror. there was nothing he could do for his kids. he knew this would eventually happen. but he didn’t think it would happen this soon. the sight of you red at the mouth with a wound, ironically matching your twin, made him cringe. this was unfair. he couldn’t process one. now he’s being forced to process two upcoming losses just because it was the way of the na’vi people.

you leaned into your brother as everything was moving. so fast. just a few minutes ago you were making bracelets for everyone. now you’re on the rocks dying with your brother. you cursed eywa in your head, cursing how this was unfair to you and neteyam. you couldn’t even give proper goodbyes first.

neteyam turned his head over to you before letting out a weak smile “im sorry..”. you opened your mouth to speak but was quickly silenced by the spew of blood that erupted from your throat, neteyam feeling the warm metallic substance cloud his throat.

“mom im scared..” you turned to your mom while you faintly heard neteyam whisper something to your father about wanting to go home. then..

there was nothing.

—————————————————————————————

“(y/n)!” you shot up in a panic. it was white. everywhere. when your sight adjusted you saw your older brother in front of you. “neteyam..where..” he quickly shushed you and brought you to a glowing figure, her warm smile filling your body up with the warmth of a mothers embrace.

it was eywa.

you and neteyam quickly bowed before she let out a small hum of approval. “you both have strong hearts. one soul. but very strong and different hearts” her voice was smooth like honey against your ears.

one soul? you always knew you and your brother were attached at the hip but not like this. ‘one soul?’ you thought to yourself but the goddess in front of you was quick with her response. “yes. one soul. you both have one soul. soulfully connected. if one part of the soul leaves..” she looks over to neteyam “then the other has to go along with it.” she looked over to you.

oh.

after the conversation, you and neteyam walked hand in hand in the afterlife, admiring what eywa has to offer. “(y/n) im sorry.” neteyam spoke , breaking the comfortable silence. “it’s okay..it’s not your fault. let’s just spend the rest of eternity happy okay?” neteyam giving a small nod before pulling you towards a river, pushing you in.

life isn’t fair. you know this. but at least you have your brother.

how everyone reacted. (part 2 ish)

a.n // y’all probably hate me after this but OH WELL. i just wanna say thank you for all the love and support on my most recent stories. your comments and reblogs truly make my day 10x better. i plan on doing a lot more so thank you again - sae 🥹🫶🏾

#avatar #avatar x reader #neteyam x reader #awotw #jake sully x reader #kiri x reader #loak x reader #neytiri x reader #sully family x reader

[ohtobeleah]

Secret Sacrifices // Jake Seresin

Prologue: [BrainBox]

Summary: Managing the Hard Deck isn’t always easy, especially when a certain Naval Aviator is always just one step away.

Warnings: Illusion of family loss. Jake Seresin X F!reader. Witness Protection Reader. Situationship. 18+ Content.

Word Count: 1.6k

Author Note: I’m getting back into writing after a few weeks hiatus, any feedback, comments and concepts will be greatly appreciated.

Series Masterlist | Main Masterlist

The human brain can be seen in scientific communities as the most mysterious organ in the human body. The human mind can generate up to seventy thousand thoughts a day, which means there are around two thousand nine hundred thoughts created every hour. 

“Mommy!”

The human brain can store around about two point five terabytes of information at any one time. That capacity of storage is equivalent to about three million hours of television reruns or one million high-quality photos. Take your pick. 

“Come on—wake up! WAKE UP PATRICK!” 

The human brain can generate an electric current of about twenty-three watts. That’s enough to light up a round bulb. And although the human brain only accounts for two percent of your total body weight, it consumes more than twenty percent of the human body's total energy. 

“Please don’t leave me, not now—oh god please don’t leave me.” 

The length of all blood vessels in the brain, if combined, would reach a maximum length of about one hundred and sixty thousand kilometres. That’s enough distance to wrap about the earth’s circumference four times over. 

“Mommy I’m scared!” 

Each nerve neuron in the human brain has up to ten thousand connections with other neurons, not only that, but there are upwards of one hundred billion neurons in the brain. Which means there are more than one thousand trillion neuron connections formed in the human brain. 

“We just have to keep running baby.”

The amygdala, a part of the brain responsible for coordinating emotions, has an information processing speed of upwards of twenty ms. This speed is even faster than the speed at which humans can perceive something. 

All of these facts lean towards the idea of the human brain being some sort of supercomputer that we have been given. Programmed into our very existence by evolutionary biology. 

“No baby girl you stay with Mommy, it’s okay—don’t you close your eyes again okay?”

And yet? Despite all the wonders and capabilities that the human brain can accomplish—Your brain keeps you stuck in a time loop of unimaginable grief and despair. 

“Brewer?” The world around you had seemingly stopped for a few moments. The regular Friday night hustle of the Hard Deck had all but dissipated into silence when the overwhelming haunting noises of your own personal hell had become too loud to drown out. “Hello? Earth to Brewer?” 

“What?” You frowned as you shook yourself back into existence. What you found, or more accurately, who you found standing before you across the bar made your heart skip a panicked beat. “Jesus Seresin, you scared the hell out of me.” You sighed as you felt your heart beating rapidly inside your chest. The same heart that had loved and lost so much. The very heart that right now was plagued with the dilemma of falling for the sandy blonde who stood before you with eyes that could rival the Emerald City itself. 

“How?” Jake questioned as a confused frown took over his face soon after the words left his mouth. “I’ve been standing here for like two minutes just watching you zone out like some space cadet.” The chuckle that escaped Jake's slightly parted mouth soothed your beating heart into a steady rhythm. 

Oh. How long had you been zoned out for?

“What can I get ya?” You decided to let it go as you shot Jake a short but harmless smile. There was no need to ask or spend too much time focusing on how long you’d been stuck standing still cleaning the same spot on the bar over and over while your thoughts consumed you. Besides, you didn't really want to know how long Jake had been standing there looking at you like a moth drawn to a flame. 

“The usual, times four thanks barkeep—“ Jake replied as he reached into his back pocket, finishing out his wallet. A simple brown leather moment that always made you feel like your past was trailing right behind you. “Plus a lemonade with lime for the underage Back Seater.” There it was, that signature Seresin smirk accompanied with that wink. Insufferable. Cocksure. Endearing. 

“Four Budweisers and a lemonade coming right up.” You smiled once again as you threw your bar towel over your shoulder and got to work. Jake took the time to perch himself on one of the empty bar stools that littered the outskirt of the bar. Patrons buzzed around the Hard Deck like there wasn’t a care in the world to be had on a Friday night. “And lay off Bob, he gets your drunken ass home more often than not so you should be more thankful for his intolerance to alcoholic beverages.” 

Jake beamed at your lighthearted remark, they came few and far between. Whenever he was graced with the pure nature of your smile or your dry sense of humour, Jake reveled in it. So much so the crush he harboured had become common knowledge to half of Miramar. Yourself included. He wasn't a shy man, far from it. Jake knew what he wanted and, usually, he got it. 

But you? You had been playing hard to get and hard to crack ever since you showed up to the Hard Deck around six months prior. From the first moment Jake saw you he’d been caught hook, line, and sinker. Six months of chasing the same girl round in circles. 

“What had you lost, Brewer? Daydreaming on the clock isn’t usually your thing?” Jake asked as he got comfortable, leaning forward on his elbow as he watched you grab four Budweisers from the cooler fridge beneath the bar. He didn't miss the look on your face, the one that would occasionally replace the mild-maned stare you'd give off to slightly agitating customers. It was a look Jake couldn't really read–one that he wasn't sure if he would ever get to the bottom of, but he let it go, didn't press.  

“Just got caught up thinking about how I'm gonna spend my Sunday off.” Of all the lies you could’ve made up that seemed to be the most believable. 

“What are we doing on Sunday, Brewer?” Jake teased as you placed the still-capped amber bottles on the bar before him. The smirk he wore said it all, he was waiting for you to bite. And bite you did. 

“God, you've got tickets to your own show don't you, Seresin?” You shook your head with a laugh as you popped the caps on the beers you'd collected. “I– am planning a reset, just have a lot of housework to get done, laundry, meal prepping, self-care.” You teased the meaning behind self-care as you reached for the soda gun. “Which reminds me I need new batteries.” 

Jake caught the look in your eyes as you filled the glass to the brim with ice with your free hand and let the liquid drain from the gun. “Kinky girl, you sure we aren't hanging out on Sunday?” The smile, that damn infection smile that could light up the darkest of rooms made your head spin. But you couldn't go there. Harmless flirting was one thing, but crossing that line could cost Jake everything. 

He wasn't even aware of how close he was tempting death. How close he was standing to fire. How close he was standing to a woman who had lost everything in the name of being a good person. 

Unlike Jake, you had already lost everything. 

“In your dreams, Bagman.” You chuckled lightly, Jake's order was all but done. “Cash, Card or on Bradshaw's Tab?” The question remained unanswered for a few moments as Jake just sat there taking in the sight of the bartender who had him wrapped around her finger with ease. A spot he wouldn't mind staying forever if you'd let him. But for now? He knew he had to play the long game: Catch me if you can! you had forced him to play. 

“You tempt me, but card it is.” Jake confirmed as he fished his card from his wallet. “Someone has to keep Rooster from going into financial ruin.” It only took a few seconds for you to place all of Jake's drinks, the four beers and one lemonade with lime, onto a carry tray. “I think Payback’s been piggybacking on his bar tab too.” Jake smirked as he gave you an all-knowing look. You had been caught red-handed, but it was all circumstantial evidence at best. 

“Never took you as a softy.” Bradley Bradshaw still owed you an apology for his drunk and disorderly behaviour a few weeks ago. Behaviour that saw him hurling abuse your way when you cut him off. The guy was going through a breakup of sorts, of course you felt bad. But until he said he was sorry? His tab was racking up a pretty penny of top-shelf liquors and extra beer orders from the boys. “But fine, tap your card whenever you’re ready.” 

“This place is starting to charge a premium price for cheap booze ever since they hired a new manager.” Jake let out a sigh laced in banter as he paid for his order, the tip he left never went unnoticed either. Jake was good like that, he always tipped with a smile and a few extra bucks to make his almost cheesy pickup lines and banter worth your while. “And there's a lot of things you don't know about me Brewer.” With one final wink and signature smile, he was off. 

“Funny.” You mumbled to yourself as you watched Jake walk away back towards the same booth the boys all lingered around whenever they weren't hogging the pool table. The same booth you frequented the most. The same booth you gave a little more attention to–because Jake Seresin, despite all your might, had a hold on you that you couldn't seem to get out of. 

“I guess I could say the same damn thing.”

***~***~***~***~***~***~***

Tags: 🏷️ @a-reader-and-a-writer @xoxabs88xox @hiireadstuff @buckysteveloki-me @athenabarnes @els-marvelvsp @blindedbythelightt @tayl0rhuynh @na-ta-sh-aa @kmc1989 @sunlightmurdock @mamachasesmayhem @jaxfart @lauenderhaze @sugarcoated-lame @maisie-rebloging-blog @captainmoonknight @seitmai @shanimallina87

#secret sacrifices // jake seresin #jake hangman fic #jake seresin imagine #jake seresin x reader #jake hangman imagine #jake seresin fanfiction #jake hangman seresin #jake hangman seresin x reader #top gun fandom #top gun fanfic #top gun fanfiction

[dixonsgirl93]

Daryl Dixon finding out you’re pregnant with his child and what he’d be like as a dad:

(I gotta be honest, I don’t normally like pregnancy/child tropes. They just don’t interest me in fiction HOWEVER this thought came to me. How would our sweet, traumatised boy react to having a family of his own??)

He’d be in shock, not believing you could really be carrying his baby, that he was gonna be a dad

He’d say he needs space/time to think about what this really means and he’ll disappear on “runs”. You wouldn’t hear from him for at least a couple weeks

He’d be terrified at first. Because of the idea of bringing a child into a broken world, because he fears he’d be a terrible father

He’d have to come to terms with not being able to run off and do his own thing. He’d have responsibilities now

He already knew he was never going to leave the pair of you. It was never in his mind to abandon you

He’d work even harder to protect you both, putting himself on the line more but secretly he’d enjoy it in a way, because he had something that was his and he’d give his life 1000 times over to protect what belonged to him

He’d teach them how to hunt from an early age, to fight, how to use his crossbow, the right berries and mushrooms to eat, how to fish and anything else Daryl knew, he’d pass it all on

What you wouldn’t know, was that when the child was much older, Daryl would teach them how to protect you both, should something happen to Daryl. He’d teach them to not let the grief consume them

While you were pregnant he’d kiss your belly loads, lovingly patting it and feeling the kicks. And when he first felt a kick he’d get teary eyed and it would be the first time he felt like a dad

He’d talk to his child while in your belly, telling them stories of the old world and of how badass he thinks their mom is

He’d be the first to bring you comforts, pillows, blankets, enough food so you could both stay strong

He wouldn’t be home too much, wanting better to be hunting for you, making a nursery for you but when he was home he focused his attention on you and the baby

He would be more anxious, wanting to provide for and protect you constantly but not being able to do both all the time

He would think of the family he lost and compare you and his child to himself, Merle and their dad, desperately wanting his child to have a better life than he did

When the baby was born, he’d spend a lot of time just holding and looking at them, memorising their features, looking for you and himself in them

He’d gently run his fingers over their soft skin. He couldn’t help but wonder how anyone could hurt a child, imagining his own scars and childhood

During childbirth he’d be at your side the whole time, encouraging you to be strong, giving you praises, clutching your hand and not caring that your nails were digging into his skin from the pain

When the child was older and told him that they were proud to have him as their dad, he’d sob, not caring who saw because it was something he’d been worried about for years. He was so certain he would fail any child in his care

If the child was a girl, he’d teach her not to take shit from men, he’d tell her about the certain tricks men use. He’d teach her to be strong and independent

If the child was a boy, he’d teach him how to be respectful to women, he’d teach him how to be a leader, how to protect people, how to be unbreakable but that emotional vulnerability was not weakness, but strength

He’d be a stern dad, soft sometimes but the child would quickly grow to be respectful, learn to communicate their feelings and feel safe and loved. Something Daryl never got

#daryl dixon #twd #the walking dead #daryl dixon imagine #daryl twd #daryl dixon fanfiction #daryl dixon x reader #daryl x reader #daryl dixon x female reader #daryl dixon x you #daryl dixion x reader #the walking dead daryl dixon #daryl dixon fluff #twd daryl dixon #daryl imagines #daryl dixion imagine #daryl dixon twd #twd daryl #the walking dead daryl #daryl fanfiction #daryl x y/n #daryl x you

[thetriumphantpanda]

Joel Miller Masterlist

Series

The Way You Miss Me  Explicit | COMPLETE SERIES | F!Reader  Joel is your daddy’s best friend. One evening, when your dad has to work late and you’ve been babysitting Sarah, tequila emboldens you to tell Joel what you’ve always wanted to tell him.

Ghost of You  Explicit | On-Going Series | Widow F!Reader  Grief is a strange thing. In the beginning it had been all-consuming. There wasn’t a moment of the day where you didn’t cry, didn’t ask yourself why it couldn’t have been you instead. And no-one ever explains the guilt you feel when it isn’t anymore. When it’s just a dull ache and you can finally breathe again, when you can start letting people get close to you again. People like Joel Miller. 

Trial & Error Explicit | COMPLETED SERIES | Joel x F!Reader x Tommy Tommy has always been the loyal and doting boyfriend, the literal man of your dreams. Ready to take things to the next step, you soon find that Tommy is unable to have children. A family is all you’ve ever wanted, and neither of you are going to let this get in your way. Enter Joel, dark and mysterious and willing to do anything for his little brother, including fucking his girlfriend to get her pregnant. That’s what brothers are for, right?

Come Away With Me - Trial & Error Season Two Explicit | COMPLETED SERIES | Joel x F!Reader x Tommy Four years have passed and you’ve managed to raise a beautiful baby boy into a sweet little boy. Four years of one night with Joel Miller and countless others with his brother. You’ve been trying for months now for your second baby and it’s proving much more difficult than first time around, so Joel has a plan. One week, alone, on the lake, with one goal - another baby.

In The Woods Somewhere Explicit | On-Going Series | Joel Miller x F!Reader Joel Miller, exasperated by his estrangement from Ellie, volunteers to scout out a new patrol route for Tommy. Weeks into his solitude, he stumbles upon a cabin, not abandoned, but filled with children, and you. Drawn to you like a moth to a flame, Joel’s arrival into your bubble sets off a catastrophic chain of events. You’re reliant on him now, having to trust him like no-one else to get you back to the safety of Jackson. You’ve done terrible things to stay alive, things that would disgust most people, so much so that you truly don’t believe you deserve the kindness of this rugged stranger. After everything you’ve been through, you and the children, why does he deem you worthy of his love?

The Checklist Explicit | COMPLETE SERIES | Joel Miller x F!Reader Your new boyfriend Joel finds your hidden stash of porn, full of pages with their corners folded over, marking the things you like the most. Expecting him to feel bad about finding things you’re into, things you haven’t asked for from him, you’re surprised when he offers to help you tick them off.

Delicate - Co-Authored with @hellishjoel Explicit | On-Going Series | Joel Miller x Single Parent F!Reader Sarah decides, with a year until she leaves home for good, that it's time for her dad to start dating again. Joel doesn't understand the fuss, he's more than happy with how life is for him right now, but decides if it's for Sarah, he'll give it a go. After wading through the dating apps, he comes across someone new, someone who might just be able to be the company he's needed all along.

One Day I'll Fly Away Explicit | On-Going Series | Joel Miller x F!Princess Reader A disgraced Princess, wrapped up in a scandal that no-one saw coming. A scandal and a messy, public divorce that has shaken the British Royal Family to its core and caused a media frenzy. Running away seemed the only option, get away from the eye of the storm, but no matter how far you run, the people who want to find you, will always find you. You were meant to lay low, keep your nose out of trouble, but when the handsome and rugged town rancher is as mysterious as he is, it was always going to be a disaster waiting to happen.

One-Shots

In His Healing Hands Explicit | One-Shot | F!Reader You come back from patrol with a broken body - knees and feet aching with age and the physical toll of the world. Joel knows exactly how to help you, putting his hands (and mouth) to good use.

Where You Want Your Gift, Girl? Explicit | One-Shot | F!Reader It’s your birthday and Joel, knowing it’s not your favourite celebration, is keen to show you that it‘s not always going to be a bad day, not if he can help it.

She A Bad Lil Bitch, She A Rebel Explicit | One-Shot | Brat Tamer!Joel x F!Reader Joel has to teach you a damn lesson, just like always.

Got My Mind On Your Body Explicit | One-Shot | Joel Miller x F!Reader He's the most beautiful man you've ever laid eyes on, even as he grows older, and you're determined to show him just that.

Ask Nice For It Explicit | One-Shot | Joel Miller x F!Reader You know this dance with Joel like the back of your hand - when he needs you, you do exactly as you're told.

Light In The Darkness  Explicit | One-Shot | Original Female Character Amy O'Leary has a grudge with Joel after he failed her before, but a forced scouting party and a rainstorm later and they are brought together closer than Amy ever could have imagined.

Drabbles 

We Have To Make This Quick - 585 words of smut 

Come Back To Bed - 969 words of smut 

I’m Going To Ruin You - 1.4K words of smut 

Suck It and See - 1.9k words of smut

#pedro pascal #joel miller #the last of us #joel miller smut #the last of us hbo #tlou #joel miller fic #Joel Miller fanfic #Joel Miller fanfiction #joel miller fluff #joel miller x you #joel miller x reader #Joel Miller x female reader #Joel Miller x f!reader #Joel Miller Pedro Pascal

[softandsourcream]

Stop, you’re losing me~ - one

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Summary: The last time you saw Yoongi wasn't one of your fondest memories. And actually, you thought that after ten years you no longer had any more tears to shed for that memory, for that situation, for him.

What was the problem with meeting him again at his brother's wedding, right?

Right?

pairing: idol! yoongi x vet!f reader.

Words: 9k

genre(s): angst, hurt- comfort, slow burn, fluff, smut (+18) (not this one tho)

au(s): childhood friends - to lovers, idol yoongi, normal vet reader, entertainment industry, denial and resentment.

warnings: curse words, family drama, grief, loss of loved ones, panic/anxiety attacks, damaged mental health, a LOT of struggling. Yoongi is here to help tho♡.

author’s note: just wanna let you all now that I’m so exited that this is out now! Hope you enjoy it and if you have any suggestion just let me know! I don’t bite 🐇. Also, English it’s not my fist language, so please be patient with this dumbass

~

IMPORTANT: this fic contains a lot of sensitive topics touched upon explicitly. Please, if any of the tags trigger something in you, stop reading. You’re more important, and there is much more content you can consume here. Take care please! ♡

enjoy!

—————————•。・゜ one゜・__________________

main masterlist

—————————•。・゜　　　　゜・。_______________

“Where are you?”

“Outside.” In fact, he had gotten out of the car a second ago, and he wasn't going to answer, but he didn't know where they were either; the place was exaggeratedly large.

“Get in here then, you're late.”

“I’m at the entrance... where are you?” His voice breathless, he ran a lot in less than 20 minutes.

“Your brother is about to faint, so you’re going to see us easily. The first row.”

Yoongi hung up the phone, and sure enough, it wasn't difficult for him to find his family right at the end of the place. His brother looked around restlessly, probably looking for him or his fiancée, because he knew he was late, but he didn't seem to have started yet either.

His father, on the other hand, observed his brother's concern with the empty gaze he had always had from his seat, blinking slowly without saying much. He smiled a little at the scene (also a little relieved to finally be there) and started walking quickly, straight there, without looking at anyone else.

He greeted some of his aunts from afar, bowed to others he didn't know but greeted him, and ended up meeting his brother's eyes, almost finishing his journey. The concern on his face changed to one of anger, and he approached him as if suddenly he wasn't about to get married and be responsible for a family. His posture was the same as when they played as children, and his mother had to separate them for a toy.

It gave him chills.

“Hel-“

“Where the fuck were you.”

Yoongi frowned exaggeratedly at the bad word, looking at his father, who was watching everything in the same exact spot with the exact same cold and calm eyes.

“You’re not going to say anything to him?”

He didn’t respond, and Yoongi chuckled when his brother insulted him again.

“Calm down, if mom hears you, she-“

“You’re half an hour late, Min.” Finally, his father, mad. He can tell just by his voice. Yoongi shrank from the scolding and grimaced, looking at his brother.

“I’m sorry.” One. Sooner than he expected “They didn’t let me go sooner.” Greum-Jae didn't even seem interested in hearing an excuse; Yoongi had never seen him so angry before. But he still dared to continue speaking. “I get you’re mad, and I’m sorry, but don’t be mad with me right now. This is your day, we can fight later, and I’m here. I’m really sorry, for real, it wasn't my intention to ruin this for you.”

“Now it’s my job to be calm?” Jae fled from his touch. “To ignore your mistakes? You literally have one job.”

“I know I- I don’t have any other excuse, okay? I’m really sorry.”

Two.

It was subtle, but after a moment, his gaze softened, and so did his body, which was the most noticeable. Jae hugged him, and Yoongi smiled sadly, because he did feel bad, but, of course, it wasn’t the time to show it.

“You’re lucky she’s late too, and that I’m in a good mood right now.” He knows. “Missed you…”

“Me too.” His smell, his hugs, his voice. His home. He missed. “You are in a good mood, though? You look like you're about to throw up.”

He hit his shoulder, breaking the hug and getting closer to his father. Yoongi says hi to him without receiving a response, of course. He looked older and tired, which made him think about how long he had not set foot in that city. He squeezed his fist, unsettled. “I’m nervous; of course I look like that.”

Yoongi was going to ask why, genuinely interested, because he didn't understand why he should be nervous. He wasn't supposed to do anything more than 'yes, I do' and be with the person he loves most for the rest of his life. He also understood that, from the context, Yoongi would never understand it, and he didn't feel like doing it either. Also, he shouldn't be that direct, so he swallowed his question and leaned with both hands on the empty chair next to his father, placing all his weight on his arms.

He wanted to ignore the fact that he felt watched. There were a lot of people there. He hadn't taken a look to see how much he knew and how much he didn't, that was an activity he would leave for when they were dancing and there was less light. Right now he knew that everyone was looking at him, and he didn't like it because, although it was a family and private event, he couldn't completely ignore it. Photos of him would still come to light. It was, in fact, one of the discussions he had with the company days before.

“Your brother doesn't want to hear you, but I do. What is more important than your brother’s wedding now?”

Shit.

Jae was now talking to someone who came to tell him news about Eun, and he had walked away. He could only hear the echo of people talking, laughing, and happiness. Yoongi didn't want to have that conversation right now.

“It wasn’t my fault.”

“That wasn’t my question.”

“You’re being unfair right now.”

The man sighed.

“I’m just asking, Yoongi." And his voice sounds different too, so Yoongi didn’t like it. “If I’m not right, why don’t you tell me? You know I know when you're right, and I'm not. I'm not stubborn, you're locking yourself in."

Yoongi wrinkled his nose because he was right in a way, and he hated that it was like that. It was true; he didn't know why he felt so cornered all of a sudden. Stretching his arms and looking at the ground, he became a little dizzy. His whole body suddenly hurt; maybe all the fatigue of those months came upon him.

“Working.” He was honest even so, knowing what was coming. His father didn’t move in any sense. “I was working, but it wasn't'more important than this’. They wouldn't let me go, for real.”

“You didn’t take a day off?”

“I can’t. I’m on tour right now, and I asked permission, but you know that they’re not flexible with the times.

“Just like your mother's birthday. Or every Christmas.” He sounds sad now, almost disappointed. Mad, but really sad. “We invite you, but you never come. Your brother was shaking yesterday. He really wanted to see you.”

There was silence. A big one, where you could still hear the murmurs of the people, the echo of the grandeur of the place, the clicking of heels, and the shy laughter. He gave them both time to realize where they were, that they were in suits, and that, after all, he hadn't seen that man in a long, long time.

Yoongi's apology stuck in his throat—another genuine apology.

 

A third.

 

“I'm sorry, son.” His father says instead. Yoongi had heard it a few times in his 30s. “I understand. We understand, but... we always do. Me, your mother, and your brother today. He has all the right to be mad; we all are, but you’re doing your best, and we’re getting old too.” This time he looked at him, smiling a little. Yoongi does too, but his was a sad one. “Just don’t forget about your family. I just hope I make it to your wedding too.”

“Pff.” They laughed, and the son nodded, his nose still wrinkled just thinking about it. “I can only do the first one, sorry. That’s why Jae did it first. Maybe I don't invite you to a wedding, but you have been sitting more than once watching me in a stadium with more people than here.” He looked at his brother with his eyes. He continued talking to that woman, nodding, biting his lip, having an awful time, and if it wasn't bad, then something questionable. Yoongi could swear his palms were sweating. “I honestly don't feel like... being that worried.”

His father looked nothing in the front, with a smirk on his face. Yoongi realized how old he turned again.

“You just haven't found the right person to be like this for.”

That doesn’t sound like his father. At all.

He looked at him again and couldn't say anything when his brother was already in front of them, smiling and wiping the sweat from his hands.

He knew it.

“She’s about to arrive, take your seat.”

Yoongi left the back of the chair where there was supposed to be another person there who wasn't there, and frowning, he looked around the room without really doing it, realizing that he was missing someone to greet.

“Where’s mom?”

And as if he hadn't been listening to laughter, murmurs, and voices of people for ten minutes that filled his ears non-stop, right after that question, a specific laugh seemed to answer his doubt, reversing his pressure and causing a strong shiver to run down the back of his neck.

He turned quickly, perhaps even a little disbelievingly, and then, he saw you.

Not his mother, though. Or yes, her too, but his eyes fell on you first because it was always like that, because that was your laugh, and because it was impossible not to.

Far away. The possibility of having heard your laughter was quite unlikely, even impossible. Seven or eight rows back. Of course, you were wearing baby blue, delicate, and tight. The fabric didn’t shine like your gloves do, and you had your long hair loose, tied up from the top just a little. You laughed heartily, teeth on display, his mother being the cause of your smile and your bright eyes. Such honest and grateful happiness, because why not, you both looked exaggeratedly happy to be in front of each other again. Her mother held your hands tightly, moving them up and down in time with her words, and you just nodded and responded briefly.

His heart stopped. He could swear he had even forgotten to breathe.

Yoongi didn't enjoy eye contact.

He usually runs away from it. He feels stupid, and he gets embarrassed quickly. It's a tense situation for him, but he was wishing with all his might that you two had it at that moment. That his eyes were heavy enough for you to turn to look at him and take a good look at you because your eyes had always been big and expressive, and he needed to confirm that he wasn't hallucinating.

At least that's what they were like the last time he saw them, so many years ago that he couldn't count them, and from what he saw from there, many things had changed.

You look breathtaking. You've always looked this pretty, but right now… 

He didn't know if it was because he hadn't seen you in person for many years, up close, but unpleasant things were happening to him. His legs trembled when you finally looked back. Big eyes, make-up on, pretty color, and they opened, your moves frozen, and somehow, you two had an extremely uncomfortable visual conversation, as if you were face to face, and you didn't know what to say.

To his surprise, your gaze quickly changes to a more confident, almost cold look, and you bow with extreme lightness to say hello without intending to break contact. However, his mother did, hugging goodbye to you as soon as everyone started tidying up, music started playing, and Yoongi was forced to sit down, trembling, sweating, and unfocused, remembering how you looked.

He was there again, in real life, in Daegu, where he was born and grew up, where it was hot and dangerous to go out at night, where they used to live, and where he used to get lost when he could.

He had arrived that morning, but his brother, his parents, and you brought him back home.

“Shit.”

Not in a comfy, lullaby way. More like a cold water falling from the sky directly on the ground/ type of way.

He was there. You were there, feeling better than him, of course, but you don’t know. You had the whole month to mentally prepare for that reunion. Obviously you had a better handle on it, but you were also shaking, and you had to take a couple of breaths before you were ready for the wedding.

“Good?”

 

Seun was next to Greum when everything happened, in a way waiting as a spectator. Both in silence, from afar. Now he was waiting for you to respond, so he could start the recording in case you said something compromising. Both of you were in your assigned seats, with Jae at the altar.

“If it’s better than him, then yes, I’m great.” He laughed and checked at the entrance in case Eun was peeking out. He wanted to see her dress. You shake your shoulders, trying not to look in his direction again, releasing tension.

“Well, I don’t judge him. Jae didn’t tell him you were here.”

You scoff, “He didn’t? We're some show to you two or something?” putting your brother's arm away (with more force than necessary. It bothers you that he didn't take seriously how you felt. More now that you were especially sensitive) so you can record properly. The music began to overwhelm you a bit.

Now. Suddenly they were all in order, therefore quieter, so you two had to continue the conversation in whispers. Jae was waiting for his future wife; the doors of the place were open, but nothing was happening yet.

“He told me months ago that he wasn’t sure if he would arrive. The invitation was made, but he hasn't seen him for almost a year. When-“ he stops, unlocking his phone that had turned off for not pressing record yet, making you smile. Your older brother reminded you a lot of your father sometimes, and you rarely saw him so excited and well groomed at the same time. Your dress color and his suit matched too. His idea. “When Yoongi confirmed he was coming, Jae didn’t have the time to tell him. So yeah,” you looked at him when he did, blinking. “I know he’s feeling a lot of things right now.”

Well, that was weird.

That doesn’t sound like Yoongi, Yoongi loves his brother, his family, at least the one you know.

The type of relationship you had now (null) didn't allow you to say that out loud, and, strictly speaking, you didn't understand his reaction either. He looked genuinely surprised; it shouldn't affect him if he was the one who broke everything in the first place. You assumed it had just been the surprise, and it would take you a good stretch of the night to be able to let go of the fact that they were there, so close but so far, to let go of the possibilities of talking, hugging him, and telling him how much you had missed him, know about him, how he handled things. Just as before. Because it didn't help you to think like that, and because how pretty and beautiful your best friend looked right now, happy, in white, and excited, couldn't be placed on anything else.

You hoped you could breathe in peace for the rest of the night. Although at some point you thought you could do it without problems, because once you wiped away the tears that came out of you when you saw Eun enter and the ceremony took place, between your brother talking to you, you were laughing at him because he had also cried halfway through. On the way, the rest of your family arrived, and an inexplicable happiness that ran through you as you were surrounded by so many people that you knew and hadn't seen in years consumed you, your head stayed busy. A lot, and you still had it in mind, but you were not alone, and that made you feel good, safe, and a little calmer.

It was easy for you not to give him your night. At least the first part of it.

Apparently, after the ceremony, the party, and celebration would take place in the same place. You weren't really surprised, in fact, it moved you even more because the place was gigantic, very tall, and beautiful, almost like a theater, and there were many, many people, enough to fill the place. Not in a suffocating way, but enough to get lost. It was mostly of age, older people, maybe grandparents you hadn't managed to meet before, and then there were people directly younger, but you knew those, Seun was a people butterfly. Friends of theirs, you assumed. Actually, Seun stopped explaining who the boy was sitting next to one of her good friends when a man, tall and good-looking, started to talk on a microphone.

“Now, now, and congratulating the bride and groom once again, we would like to call the loved ones of both to say a few words before the fun part starts.

Everyone laughed, and Seun looked at you. You forgot about that part.

“Let’s start with the parents…”

“I can go for you instead.”

“It’s okay.” You smile. You knew that he was doing his best to be able to contain you, and give you the best company, despite the fact that it was not easy for him. “I’m not made of glass.” You joke, listening to Eun’s mother speak already.

And well, for him, you were. At least right now, but he didn’t say it, scoffing to hide his thoughts. “I’m trying to be good. Dad it’s watching now, I have to be an example.”

“For what.”

“Shut up, don’t be disrespectful.”

You try not to laugh. He was nervous now. You never understood why it was so difficult for him to admit that he cared for others. Not even with Jae he dared to do it, or at least that's what you thought. You didn't know how he would tell the truth in his speech.

You were the last one. You knew this because when you arrived, Jae told you. Eun wasn't supposed to know you were there. Of course, she had invited you, but she didn't know if you would finally attend because you hadn't been able to communicate with anyone these last few months. You met once, when she came to see you at your house, but you couldn't talk about much. You were on another planet, it was like your head was disconnected from your body most of the time, and she assumed you wouldn't go. 

You wanted to think that she hadn't seen you when she passed, but you doubted it. With the amount of people there, and with how focused she was on Jae, it was impossible.

Still, you were nervous. When you accepted, you didn't think you would be in front of so many people. Your heart was beating.

“Is that Yoongi?” Nara, your sister, asked your mother just behind you when he got position and greeted everyone.

“Yeah. Why he wouldn't?” Your mom responded a bit confused. You could hear her smile.

“I think you all were joking when you told me he was on BTS, for real. It doesn’t look at all like the Yoongi I knew.” You hear a laugh, a gentile one, and then your other brother making fun of her behind. Your dad scolds them.

Now, you take advantage of the moment to take a better look at him.

You wanted to blame it on the fact that your sister was only nine when she met Yoongi, and every time he appeared on TV or in videos she was told it was him, she just couldn't believe it. You just hoped those were her blurry memories of him, because you couldn't see him too differently from how you remembered it.

Maybe his hair was longer, he was paler, taller, his back had grown considerably, and he had that special glow that any celebrity would have. He looked like an entire adult now, too. He wore expensive clothes and good shoes, although he didn't seem to have put any effort into his hair, or his appearance in general, he looked incredibly unreal, so much that it makes you angry.

If you thought about it enough, and if you didn't know it was him, you would’ve struggled to recognize him too. You often saw him in magazines, posters, on buildings in Busan, on train pamphlets, on your cell phone and even in medicine, but seeing him in person was overwhelming. It was like seeing a stranger you already knew, but better yet, he was there, but at the same time he wasn't.

You take a deep breath when you realize that, despite all those things, his features were still just as soft and delicate, just like his mother's.

His knuckles still turned red without much effort, and he smiled the same way, making that slight pout with his lips before crying, trying to contain it, and he wiped the tears carelessly. You found your Yoongi in the one you were looking at right now, with little things, with gestures, with details that you used to admire more than necessary, they were still there.

and it made you feel nauseous.

You blinked a few times, snapping out of your trance as everyone applauded, and realized you hadn't heard a single word. He had even cried, and you didn't know why. You saw Jae stand up as he was called to take position on the small stage, and a much louder round of applause made you jump lightly. They came from behind, just that young section that assumed they were friends of both. There were a lot of people, and it didn't surprise you that Seun was already fooling around on his way to the small stage there.

“How are you feeling, blossom?"

Your father asked, taking advantage of the fact that you turned around to look at the crowd and that your brother was not there. They were both looking at you, and the rest of your brothers were talking among themselves.

“I'm okay.” It wasn't necessarily a lie. You felt just as bad as you do every day. Besides, you knew that they were referring to something more specific (Min Yoongi) than to your general emotional state, so you smiled slightly, closed, and placed your hand on your mother's, who was on your arm. “I’m good; don’t worry.”

As you predicted, Seun's speech was so unserious and absurd that it's not worth dwelling on. For some reason, everyone was laughing with him, he had livened up the atmosphere and unintentionally infected everyone with joy.

He soon returned to his seat and sat still with applause in the background. You couldn't believe it.

“I don’t get why he’s still your friend.”

“We’re in love, sister.” He asure. “This wedding is for three people. They will never get rid of me.”

“Shut up.”

“Now.” The good-looking man says “Briefly before eating and doing fun things, we have one more person who wants to wish you both the best, of course.”

You can see Eun’s confused look at her husband now, and he quickly grabs her hand. Your heart was ricing, you felt your mother's hand on your shoulder.

“Park ___, please."

Eun almost jumped from her seat, looking around, looking for you. You also saw someone else look for you in the crowd when you were getting up a little stiff because of your dress. You say sorry to an old woman right in front of you, who you accidentally hit softly because Seun didn’t move at the right moment.

“Oh my god.”

You didn't have time to get halfway down the hall to the front when a large white dress ran towards you to hug you. You smiled at the impact because you were a little taken aback by how strong it came and how big her dress was. You smiled when you already had her in your arms.

“You have been here all this time?”

“Of carouse.”

“Oh my god, thank you…” she softly says, hugging you even harder.

“I wouldn’t miss the happiest moment of your life.”

Because it had cost you, but you had arrived. Was she crying? Thank goodness people were still clapping because of the moving nature of the situation, and they couldn't hear you. You were trying so hard not to cry too.

If you did it, you wouldn't stop.

“I know you-“

“It’s okay.” You stopped her. “I’m okay.”

You squeezed her waist as a signal for you to start moving, and she moved away from you to caress your face lovingly and look at you like... most people have looked at you lately with pity and kissed your forehead.

Pity.

 

She took your hand, and the entire way, you could feel Yoongi's gaze on you. From the moment she hugged you until she kissed you and started leading you forward, like an exhibition, heavy, right next to you. He made you feel small, it was silly.

“Now stop crying; I haven't said anything yet.” You start, with the microphone in your hands, making everybody laugh, the couple too, Jae helping her with the tears. The place was in silence, the lights, the eyes, and the attention were just on you. So you take a deep breath and unfold the paper you’ve got prepared. “I- uh~” a sigh. “I don’t know how people do this without crying, I- okay.” You were nervous, but the place laughed again, so it gave you time to breathe.

“I still remember you both being taller than me, smarter than me, and older than me. I know that deep down all of you were so done of me, right behind there too,” all those people scream from behind, and you laugh. “because I used to talk a lot, and I carry my toys everywhere, so I can show it to all of you, and I made too many questions for people who are starting to be teenagers and want to look cool, but I wasn’t. I didn’t even care, I remember that. I was the pain in the ass that comes with Seun. Just a plus because Seun it’s a bother himself.” The aforementioned rolled his eyes, and you waited for there to be silence so you could continue. “I understand that now, and I just came here to apologize.” 

The atmosphere after the laughter was now a little solemn, and in contrast to your brother, you were capable of poisoning the things you touched, and those who knew you knew that. You could see the newlyweds were a little worried, but you kept smiling, giving them confidence that nothing bad was going to happen. At least that wasn't your intention.

“Sorry for being the impediment for you to go out late at night or for having to return early from wherever we were... I- was with you.” Uh. You try to keep the smile. Shit, “sorry for being so annoying, and sorry for the fact that I didn't care. Because as much as I didn't like being with you sometimes, the best part of my day was watching you eat at my table, or Mrs. Min organizing my birthdays, and everyone coming with gifts that I genuinely liked because you all heard what I was saying even if I was giving you a headache.”

Unintentionally, you met those eyes again from afar, just when you were trying to control that lump in your throat because the worst part was coming, and you didn't know if you were ready. You said the following while still looking at Yoongi, not at you, surprisingly. “I miss it. I really do, and I’m so grateful that I carry all that with me.”

You look at the paper, change the page, and breathe. So you try once “I-“ and twice. “I- um…” a shaking breath sounds everywhere, reading the words, but you just can’t. “Sorry~” you're softly trying to laugh as you cry start, and you feel so stupid for breaking in front of a lot of people. No because it was bad, everybody there cried before you, but not because of the same thing.

“I love you!” You didn’t know who it was, but you smiled and responded with a really quiet and shaking'me too', giving you time to breathe as everybody laughed, and the atmosphere eased.

“Okay.” You say more to yourself, but you have a mic on your mouth, of course. “I didn’t write this part alone. Kija he… he is my twin, so of course he was with me in all of this story, but when he got sick and we were writing this months ago, he told me that I didn’t mention him in all this because it was going to be about me, not him… he’s kinda dumb.” 

You laugh, trying not to tear up. You were holding the next tears, but like, fighting demons and everything to not cry. You, for real, didn’t want to cry in front of all those people. Your voice was obviously trapped in your chest, and it was shaking, but you couldn't do anything but breathe. You just have to be quick. 

“But he told me that he wanted to tell you both that he and I were very proud to have seen you grow together, hate each other together, and deny that you liked each other together and today, for me, seeing you two married means a lot. I adore you two with all my heart. Congratulations, and I know you’re going to do a great job. I'm sure Kija would have done a better job telling him in person, but I'm here for him, so you know. He would- have loved to come, I have no doubt. Be happy, please, and no babies yet; I’m not ready.”

You didn’t remember anything after that, which means two things:

One, you need to calm down because two, you weren’t fine.

You remember the hug, and a few words both of them told you, and all the looks people gave you just after that, full of sadness and compassion (which was the first thing that made you want to run away). And at the party, you dance because you enjoy it, and you feel a little better, but people stop you all the time to give you their condolences because “they didn’t know”.

The cake was cut, the presentation was done, and you could only come back to the moment when you had your first drink of whiskey, and your body told you that it wasn’t a good idea. Your heart was fast in your chest, that would only make it worse with alcohol.

You need to breathe.

 

“Sorry, what?!”

 

You scream behind the music. Some girl named Hwan stopped you. (It came right at the beginning, when Seun was next to you, and you were pretending to listen to how she had recently graduated. Poor girl, honestly, she looks kind and lovely.) with two glasses of tequila and some salt in her hand. 

“My friend!” She said. “I lost him, so take this!”

 And then:

“Hurry! I have to go for more before they run out!” You were too agitated for this. This is a bad idea ___. “c’mon c’mon honey!”

Your hands were tingling, your breathing was short, and you were afraid. You had tried to go to the bathroom, but it was full, and it was even more claustrophobic than all those people. Right next to it, there were some stairs that you assumed went up to the balconies that surrounded the place. You were very grateful that it was high, enough to encapsulate the music on the floor below, and you heard it as if you were listening from a glass.

Or was it you? 

You leaned on the railing and began to sweat. You closed your eyes, trying to calm down little by little, to look for things to think about, to feel something other than fear and anguish at the same time, but it was impossible, completely, and that made you even more desperate. You were breathing as if you had just run for two hours non-stop, and there came a point where your legs couldn't support your body. You couldn't feel your hands, cried a lot, trying to catch air, moaned in terror.

“please please please… stop just-“

You were trying not to faint, you were on the edge of a high place, and it was now dark for those below. It was when you felt like you really couldn't do anything. That you tried to stand back in case your body gave way forward, and it wasn't more dangerous when you felt hands on your stomach directly and the warmth of a body behind you.

A warm feeling that felt like burning on a straight fire

“Easy~ here,” you heard, far away from you, just like the music in a glass. The only thing that told you that he was literally glued to you was his touch. “Can you feel my hand?” You didn't respond, trying to run away. You didn’t want to be touched. “Hey, it’s okay, you’re safe. If you want to feel better, you have to answer me, okay?”

“Hmm” a moan full of pain, was not even an answer.

“Okay?” They asked again. This time you nodded and felt the hand move on your stomach, the fingers more than anything, like playing a piano. Soft, but rough at the same time. “Can you feel it?” Your two hands were placed on his in an attempt to find support; you couldn't feel your legs, and after giving him an affirmative answer with your head, you complained again, your head was about to explode. “Move my hand with your stomach as you breathe.” And you did. Erratic and desperate “That’s good, but try it slower. Focus on moving it, not on breathing.”

“I- I ca-“

"Yes, you can. You do it every day; come on.”

You know, you just didn’t want to be there.

You try your best to move his hand. It was hard because you were sobbing, and trying your best to not think too much. So you closed your eyes, exhausted, and concentrated on the warmth that the stranger was giving you and the hold that, while at first it felt overwhelming and suffocating, now it helped. You felt stronger, even though you were about to faint.

So you moved the hand, and it worked.

“Good~ breathe.”

The air filled your lungs little by little, your head began to quiet, and the music entered your ears at a decent volume considering how far you were from the ground. Your hands were cold, they were shaking, but you could move them, and you still couldn't feel your legs, but you could hear the trembling of your breathing and how your nervous system was trying to regulate itself, blocking your crying in your chest.

You were exhausted, god, you would sleep there if you could.

“Better?”

And then you realize.

 

You know that voice.

 

It was soft, deep, and in your ear. So close that if you turned to see him, both of you would collide. His hands were bigger than they used to be and softer to the touch, pale on your baby blue dress, no scrapes like you used to heal, he’s no longer biting his nails.

‘Shit’

“Don’t touch me.” You said. He tense.

“If I let you go, you will fall. You're not even holding yourself up.”

He was right. And you hate it.

“What are you doing here.”

Your voice sounded agitated, almost like a whisper. You still didn't dare open your eyes; your eyelids were heavy, and the fear of facing him so close made you delirious. Even though you had your back turned to him, you felt him snort.

“God. You’re welcome?” You clung tighter to his hand. It's just that you got dizzy, and he held you when he felt you give way to the left. “I should ask that. You almost passed out on the railing, idiot, that's… fucked up.”

He calls you an idiot? You were too weak to call him something worse.

So you only say "sorry." Instead, letting him go finally, and you tried to stand up by yourself, but you wobbled

“Okay, okay, please don’t. I’m gonna…” His hands took place on your hips to guide you to some chairs in the corner, which you didn't see at first, of course. You weren't sure if his touch hurt more now that you were more conscious or before, when you were overstimulated. Felt the same, honestly. “Be careful, they look old.” You walked as he commanded, and once you sat down, you heard him say something you couldn't decipher. You finally opened your eyes to ask, but there was no sign of anyone.

Sighing, you rested your head in your hands and closed your eyes again. You didn't know if you were still dizzy and weak or if you felt that way because you were already drunk. They both make sense to you.

You heard noise after a few seconds and looked up. Finally, Yoongi's silhouette appeared in the hallway, he had things in his hands, and he was looking at the glass of water, concentrating so that nothing would fall on the floor.

“I’m definitely too drunk for this.”

This can't be happening to you. Could not.

“I put ice on it, so you can chew. It will help.”

His voice sounded unfriendly to what he was saying. Not angry or indifferent, but rather nervous and tense, as if he were speaking by opening his mouth a little, trying to make you believe that it was no a big deal, as always, but his nervousness didn't allow him to fool you. You raised your eyes to look at his, and he turned them away once you brought them together. You tried to hide a smile as you received the glass. Of course, he couldn't look you in the eyes. He cleared his throat, finally watching you receive the water, trembling in your hold. He tries to hold it from below in case you drop it.

You took a sip.

“Your makeup is smudged.”

Of course. You must have been looking stupid.

“What is that?"

He was offering you something, like toilet paper, but softer on a package. You couldn't see very well, it was just white.

“I’m not really sure.” He confesses. “I take them from the bathroom. They’re damp.”

You touch it with two of your fingers, just to not be rude, honestly.

“Thanks, but I can’t really see myself here.” There was no mirror, and if there was, it was dark. The only lights there were those on the dance floor, which were colored and did not shine directly on the place you two were having this... moment. “I don’t really care though, I’m living soon anyway”

He didn't insist, putting the package in his pocket. You maintained a silence that would have been more awkward if the music downstairs wasn't on, and if you didn't have anything to chew at that moment. Neither of you dared to look at each other, or start a conversation because it wasn't even enough for something cordial. You didn't have the strength to get up and run away, but just when you were going to tell him that you were okay, and he could leave, he took something out of his pocket.

Now you are invested.

“You mind if I smoke?”

You looked at him from there, taking time to process the information. You shook your head slightly, maybe even confused, but there was no point in being.

“Can you even smoke here?”

The place was big but closed, you didn't know if it was allowed.

“I doubt it.”

“Since when do you smoke?” You dared to ask.

“I don’t.”

No, because he hates the smell. His mother has smoked since ever. Yoongi hates that the smell gets stuck in everything and everywhere. No matter how much his mother smoked outside the house, he always ended up with his school clothes smelling like cigarettes. It was inevitable. He always complained.

There you were watching him right now, right in profile, blowing smoke from his cigarette as if he did it every day, even though he said he doesn't. Arms resting on the railing, well-dressed, looking anywhere but at you.

You wanted to stop assuming that this Yoongi was the same one who had left years ago. Because you didn't know, you were both two completely new people, total strangers who knew nothing about each other, yet, you wanted to think that, if that were the case, he would have already left. He usually walks away from what he doesn't care about or doesn't like, that's what he did with you when he left, because that's how you felt. It was nice to believe that he was now there himself because he wanted to be, but it didn't help you to think about it, not now. Just because he was there didn't mean he was back in your life, and as silly as it sounded, your brain didn't understand that. It was your job to stop him from believing something like that.

You chew ice.

“I don’t want to ruin the party for you. Go ahead.” Your voice is still dumb. He was watching the people dancing from there, now he was looking at you, smoking the cigarette between his fingers without understanding what you meant. “I’m feeling better, you can go.”

“Okay.” He directed his body directly towards you. Unintentionally intimidating. “Do you want me to go?”

His presence made you anxious.

“Yes. But if I’m honest, I don’t really want to be alone right now.” He hums. “But I have seven siblings, and all of them are downstairs right now. I can call any of them.”

“They will scold you for not saying anything and me for not seeking help.”

“I know.” He looked at you, quietly. “I just don’t want to... keep you here. Have some fun.”

He shook his head, looking away.

“It’s okay. I was here first, drinking. Then you came. You scared me.”

You blink a few times. “You’ve spent all the night in here?”

“Most of it.” You followed his eyes down on the first floor, full of people. You could see everything from there. If you focused on one person, you could easily track them. “Enough to watch you dance and get drunk.”

“Creep.” He smiles a little.

“That’s why I wasn’t sure it was you. I went to get my whiskey, and I swear I saw you two minutes before taking a shot of tequila. I thought you were just drunk.”

You frowned, settling into the couch. You felt genuinely bad.

“Now I’m scared. For real.”

“Not intentional. I can literally watch my brother kiss Eun from here every five minutes, even if I don’t want to.” Yoongi plays with his ice, then drinks the rest in one go.

You gulped.

Thinking about it more was counterproductive for your mental health, you knew it, you understood it, it was practically self-sabotage, but right now, you gave yourself perhaps ten seconds to admire the beauty that Min Yoongi carried all by himself.

He looked so different, and everything that had changed elevated his beauty to places... god. You had met at a very young age too, in years, you could also say that you had changed enough to be mentioned at some point by a family member who hadn't seen you in a while, for example. You are an adult now, but it was impressive.

To think that you stopped seeing Yoongi right when he was being built into an idol says a lot. Everything about him looked expensive and well cared for, his soft hair, smooth skin, long eyelashes, immaculate hands, as if they were not obliged to do anything that would harm them. How his throat moved as the drink passed into his system, the lack of reaction of his features despite being strong, and having drunk almost half of the short glass.

The feeling that rose to your stomach made you come back, and from well-being, it turned into discomfort in your chest. He was there, he looked so attractive, and you couldn't do anything.

You couldn’t hug him, tell him how much you missed him and hit him nonstop because even when you’re still so into him, you were hurt too, and this situation was so out of your hands.

“I’d liked your speech. It was good.”

You wanted to tell him that you hadn't done it alone, but why would you do that? You didn't answer.

“You’re still writing?”

This time, you denied it almost instinctively. The truth is, you didn't want to give additional information to, in a way, a stranger, but you had already screwed up. “No. A long time ago I-“ stopped when you left, but of course you kept quiet.

When it was about Yoongi and whether you thought about the young you who loved that person in front of you so much and how dependent you were on someone who didn't care how you felt, it made you feel so stupid. And it didn't really make sense because you were young and inexperienced, and you had an important bond, so of course you will be hurt, you had more compassion than resentment. But still,

“-just don’t do it anymore.”

You didn't want to feel that weak again. He nodded.

“Why haven't you left if you don't want to be here?” You changed the topic. You weren't looking at him, but you felt his attention return to you, and he responded with his silence, then you looked up, and he avoided you again. “You're still not a party guy?” He didn't respond again, knowing that you knew the answer, so you smiled. “Yeah, you weren't either back then.” You say that just for yourself.

“I want to, though. Hyung it’s happy, and I haven't seen my family in a long time. My dad told me he was waiting for my wedding too. I stayed so maybe the event convinced me.”

“Your dad?” He nodded in disbelief as well. “That doesn’t sound like your dad. And also, the event?” A snort left your mouth as he looked at you, nodding. “ I don’t think it’s just about the event, you know?”

“Yeah. He told me that too.”

You laughed this time. You like that men.

“That doesn’t sound like him either.”

“I know.”

You missed Yoongi’s parents. They were so different from yours.

“You were, I remember.”

“What.”

“A party person. I always went with you and watched you dance because I didn't like it. Then we would leave late and buy ice cream at the convenience store downtown because you always craved some.” You nodded, trying to manage the pain that the memory caused you. “I've never seen you cry in one before.”

You played with the ice that was left, because the question was not directly a question, it was more of a mention, perhaps so as not to ignore what just happened. He knew you wouldn't answer and that you shouldn't either. You wrinkled your nose, uncomfortable.

“Where do you learn all of it?”

 

Containment, you meant.

 

“Hm.” He took a second. “These ten years have been interesting.” A laugh, and you try your best again. “I saw a member of our staff do it to Jungkook once, the first time. We were very young, but I’ve never forgotten it in case it happened again. It happened a couple of times after that, so I… know.”

And it's as if the anguish you had come back to you once you touched where his hands were for the first time in 10 years, and you had to close your eyes just because you felt upset. You didn't want to be there, you remembered. Not only because you didn't want to see him, but because you didn't feel well, and you put him over your emotions again.

Fucking hell.

“Your brother it’s looking for you.” You nodded, opening your eyes slightly.

“Of course he is…” you murmured, overwhelmed, trying to stand up. But you were feeling bad again, so you waited a little.

“Do you want me to-“

“No.”

You didn't know why you were so angry all of a sudden. Your heart was beating again, you started to feel warm even though the place was quite cold because of how big it was, and you were actually grateful that they cared about you, but you had spent all those months feeling like a burden to others.

You tried not to cause too many problems, you didn't want that kind of attention, especially after having been living alone, away from your family for so long, to live with them again. You went from making your own food to your mother having to sit next to you so you could eat something. From leaving early to work to not even knowing what time it was. From calling them to tell them good things, to having to pretend to sleep so as not to receive questions you didn't want to answer. You couldn't take care of yourself, it was something that you were having a hard time facing, because you wanted to do it, to be well so as not to be the burden of your family, but the pain you had was still just as big, and heavy, and it enveloped your entire chest. Squeezing. It didn't let you swallow, speak, cry, or breathe.

You were crying again. This time in silence, you didn't care that Yoongi was watching you in silence too, not knowing what to do.

"Where's the… dump thing you bought.”

He reacted a little slowly but quickly, searching for it, taking it out of his jacket pocket. You nodded.

“Can you clean my face, please? I don’t want to look like this when he finds me, and he will if I go to the bathroom right now.”

That one seemed to get him out of somewhere, because it did take him longer to process the information. He was standing with the towels in his hand and blinking, almost like a cat, a confused one. He didn't say anything, and you didn't think you had said anything wrong, so you got scared, and you wondered if maybe you, in fact, said something wrong.

“I can try, though. You don’t-“

“I’ll do it.”

He sits on the coffee table in front of you. You can smell his strong and manly cologne, and if you raised your eyes to his face enough, you could see him up close, closer than you had for many years again. Older, smelling that way, his marked features but you didn't. Of course not.

You close your eyes.

The two of you were silent, and it took you a few minutes to begin to feel the softness with which he ran over your face, the left side of your cheek, extremely light, almost afraid to touch you. You opened your eyes, and he wasn't looking where he was supposed to clean.

He looked at your face, carefully, perhaps making sure it was really you who was in front of him. He stopped his hand when your eyes connected, and it lasted only a few seconds, but you felt so much tension that you even doubted if it was wrong for you to pretend as if you didn't have things to talk about, before having any kind of contact. Whatever it was.

After that, he looked at you with pity.

The last one that night, you decide.

“Don’t look at me like that.”

You were stronger than him when it came to holding a gaze. He has always been the first to escape, which is why your gaze was very intense, heavy, and powerful. You could do it because you felt it was the most honest way to know if someone could handle you.

“Sorry.”

Yoongi had never been able to look at you for more than five seconds.

He resumed his work with the same smoothness. The music returned to your ears, and you returned to your place, to your life, to the now and to how your body was screaming to get out of there. You closed your eyes, chest tight and hands tense, trying to control their shaking.

You have bigger things to cry about right now than this. You had done it for a long time now; you had no more tears to cry for Min Yoongi, no reason to be nervous anymore, and no reason why you couldn't live in peace anymore.

“I’m sorry about Kija.” His voice was smooth, almost lullaby. He sounds nervous too, and just because of that, your response was also automatic. If it had been genuine, you would have had another panic attack right there.

 

“It’s okay.”

 

‘You are grieving. Don't expect anything better. Let us help you’

 

They were all grieving too.

 

“And I’m sorry I wasn’t- I didn’t know.”

There. Was there when you wanted to scream and punch him so hard enough to make him feel guilty.

“What do you mean.” To be honest, it doesn't even surprise you. You sensed it, but you had the small hope that he saw it… at least. “I texted you. Jae- he give me your number. I was waiting for you at his funeral.”

“Y/N…”

“It’s okay.”

 

You said instead. Yoongi looked terrified.

 

“I-“ he cut himself. “…was-“

You take his hand softly, stopping him. “It’s okay, Yoongi.”

“Wait.” One of his hands is on your wrist, preventing you from getting up. You didn't feel good, but you would do anything to get out of there. Still, you sat back down because you didn’t expect it.

“I’m sorry.”

 

Three.

 

The only thing you could hear was your heart beating; everything went quiet, and the words went away, an echo.

“It’s” You were far enough away to miss his scent or to see his new appearance. It was as if he disappeared into the darkness. “okay.”

And it was okay, not because that was exactly how it was, but because it didn't matter. It was okay because it didn't matter if he responded or not, he didn't have to. You were the one who was doing wrong by continuing to trust someone who had already failed you many times, and now you were choosing not to fall for anything sure.

It was okay, because there was no important bond that bonded you two, and allowed you to do bad things where there was nothing good to destroy.

And it was okay, because you simply didn't want to continue having him in front of you, talking about one of the most important people in your life, and seeing how he looked at you with pity. So it was okay.

 

But Yoongi had said sorry three times that day, and he hadn't been able to genuinely fix any of them.

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teaser masterlist two

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