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softandsourcream · 7 months

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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!

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“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.

—————————•。・. ゜・。_______________

teaser masterlist two

—————————•。・. ゜・。_______________

#yoongi au #yoongi fic #bts fic #yoongi smut #yoongi x you #yoongi fanfic #yoongi angst #bts headcanons #bts yoongi #yoongi x reader #bts x reader #yoongi series #min yoongi #slow burn

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minkyungseokie · 4 days

Text

第二章 | Moving and Meeting the Boss

warnings; age gap love(R: 23, S:39, T: 50), gxg, throuple, controversial age gaps, random German and Scottish pet names, topics of eating that aren't ED related, but might be triggering to some, DeepL translated languages. Untranslated Chinese, French, and other languages

note; okay! second chapter is now ready. I might start another series based on driver x reader x wag. I sort of rushed through this. I also changed a couple of things

She now contracted meningitis during her F2 days and that was the reason for her leaving, but she told people it was the lack of funds

There has something to do with eating, but it's not an ED

The eating thing is based off of a very adorable mukbang YouTuber named Tzuyang. I also never been to Monaco, so Idk how everything works

Realized she should have a last name since she's Felix's sister

note2; please give me requests for moodboards, blurbs, smaus, or anything else you want for this series. Or just request anything as long as you read my rules and how to request thing

fc; imleslie(Y/n), xavier serrano(Aaron Antognelli), blanca soler(Chiara Lorenzi)

Come Talk to Me | Driven by Destiny Masterlist

Autosports Masterlist | Main Masterlist | Toto Masterlist

I do not give anyone permission to change, copy, or put my work on any other platform. It will only be on top, so if you see it, please report it. Or let me know.

DO NOT ask me to update this story. I'll update when I can.

Anyway, only accepting 10 more people to be tagged

Buckle up! This is a long one!!!!!!!!

(My god, Susie is so fucking pretty that I might actually cry)

In the now packed-up house, Y/n gazed around. "Are you all packed up?" Her brother asked as he crossed his arms next to her. Chan sighed, "I'm going to miss coming over to your house and hanging out," he said, looking around the house. With a soft smile that showed off her sharp teeth, Y/n looked at her brother, "He'll miss popping by my house during random times when the homeless orphans don't have work to do and mooching off me until he needs to go home to Korea." Y/n teased, pinching his freckled cheeks.

Chan giggled at Felix's expression and looked away, clearing his throat when Felix's glare turned to him. The long-haired male slapped his sister's hand away gently and tried to keep his scowl before giving up and breaking out into smiles as laughs filled the room. "For real though, I am going to miss you." Felix said, opening his arms for Y/n to enter, "Aw, I'm going to miss you too, but you can come visit me anytime you want in Monaco." Y/n offered, pulling back.

"You too, Channie. You and the rest of the derelict unparented are free to come visit me in Monaco when you want." Y/n said, opening her arms up to the shorter male. "Why does this feel like I'm sending my little sister off?" Chan asked, gladly accepting the hug that was offered, "You are basically family, mate." Felix assured, wrapping his arms around both his sister and his best friend. The group continued to hug until there was a loud honk heard in front of the house, "Well, I guess we should get this stuff into the truck." Y/n said, letting go of the two singers to grab one of the nearest boxes.

Y/n lugged the box to the truck where a mover stood, ready to grab the box from her hands and put it in the truck, "I'll take that, sir." The worker offered. Y/n froze and stared at the mover, "Excuse me?" Y/n asked, "Oh? Did I say something wrong?" The worker questioned, looking at Y/n with a raised eyebrow, "I am not a man. Please don't assume because I have masculine features." Y/n said, steeling her nerves. Y/n wasn't a confrontational person, but over the years, resentment had built up enough for her to tell someone off when they called her a man.

Her boobs were prominent enough for people to know that she wasn't a man and she was wearing a sports bra with flannel, how the hell did the man assume she was one as well? "I'm sorry, I didn't know--" "I think you did know, but it's whatever. Don't do it again." Y/n huffed, turning around and walking away.

Y/n entered the home again and grabbed a box aggressively, huffing dramatically. Felix and Chan shared looks before putting the boxes they had in their possession down, "Hey, what's wrong?" Chan questioned.

Y/n shook her head, taking deep breaths to calm herself down. She sometimes felt like it was irrational of her to get so upset by someone assuming she was a man, but at the same time, anyone would get upset by being called the wrong gender.

Y/n squared her shoulders and picked up another box before turning to look at the two with a smile, "It's nothing, mate. Just a bit of an annoyance." Y/n then turned and walked out with the box in her hands.

The trio made their way back and forth until all the boxes were in the truck. Now, they stood on the lawn watching as the movers grabbed the furniture and loaded it onto the truck, "Y'know, we're actually going to miss you." Chan spoke up, continuing to watch the movers work. "I know. That's why I said you're free to visit me in Monaco. I'll also try to visit you and in Seoul whenever I can." Y/n assured, throwing her arms around each of the boy's shoulders and giving them an awkward side hug.

"We know. We'll try to visit when we can too." Felix said, laying his head on her arm with Changbin following suit, "We're done, ma'am. We'll be taking this to the sea freight now unless there is something else you need." The mover looked at the tall half-Asian with a pointed look, asking if there was anything she needed or if were they good.

"You're good to go. Thank you." Y/n said, nodding at the mover. The trio watched as the movers packed up and drove away, "What time do you leave?" Felix asked after a few moments of silence, "Three o'clock in the morning. Seeing as my insomnia is so bad that I can't fall asleep, I'll probably be up and out by two. Do you mind dropping my keys off at the realtor office safe drop box? I won't be able to do it since I leave at three." Y/n said.

"Yeah, we can do that. We'll be dropping you off anyway." Chan nodded, shoving his hands into his pockets.

⋘ 𝑙𝑜𝑎𝑑𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑑𝑎𝑡𝑎... ⋙⋘ 𝑙𝑜𝑎𝑑𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑑𝑎𝑡𝑎... ⋙

"Yah, wake up. It's two." Felix hissed as if there were others in the house.

Y/n groaned and swatted Felix's hands away before turning onto her side and snuggling into the blankets, "Y/n, it's time to wake up." Chan said, joining Felix at the side of the hotel bed Y/n was sleeping in. The two put their hands on her and looked at each other, nodding before violently shaking Y/n back and forth.

"搞什么鬼?!" Y/n yelled in Chinese after being woken up so violently, turning to stare at her brothers with wide eyes, "Sorry, you wouldn't wake up, so we decided to shake you until you woke up." Chan snickered, signing as he spoke, looking away as Y/n glared at him and Felix.

Y/n sighed and threw the blankets off of her body, "Jesus, dude. You could've kept trying to wake me up gently." The dark-haired woman scowled, reaching over to grab the external part of her cochlear implant and the hearing aid for her other ear. Felix grabbed the hearing aid and helped her put it into her ear, "When are you getting your other cochlear?" Felix questioned, making sure the volume was on the level Y/n always kept it on.

"I get the second implant after I start my new job. I'll have to tell the boss about it as soon I do the interview. Especially since I forgot to tell her about my lack of hearing." Y/n mumbled, looking at Chan and Felix from the side since she knew that they would be giving her judgy looks.

Y/n turned to see that they were indeed giving her disappointed looks as if she wasn't taller than Chan, older than Felix, and more intimidating than the both of them combined. "Stop looking at me like that! I was trying to get the application in as fast as I could. I simply just...forgot to put it on my application." Y/n explained, looking down and scratching her cheek. When she looked back up, they were still looking at her with disappointment, "Stop looking at me like you're my parents and I just got caught smoking a fat one....or something cause I wouldn't know how they would look at me." Y/n quickly added the second part and gave the two boys a awkward smile.

Felix and Chan sighed in unison, "Okay, well, I guess we can't really be that upset with you since you'll be telling her face-to-face. Get up and get ready. Felix picked out some clothes for you to wear." Chan said, pointing to the end of the bed where some clothes were laid out for her, Y/n sighed, running a hand through her thick hair, "Okay, whatever. Please move out of the way."

Chan stepped back as Y/n swung her long legs over the side of the bed and planted her feet onto the floor, grabbing the clothes and studying them before going to the bathroom to get changed while Felix and Chan checked to make sure that everything was properly packed. Y/n exited the bathroom wearing a pair of high waisted brown trousers, a white collared button down with a brown, beige and white sweater vest one top.

Y/n sat down on the bed and picked up the socks that were sitting on the bed, putting them on while Felix and Chan continued to talk, "Y/n, do you want to get some McDonald's on the way or something?" Felix asked.

"I just want a coffee and a bagel honestly. We can get something from the bagel shop nearby. I heard they have some good bagels and coffee." Y/n suggested, putting on her boots and grabbing the glasses that were on the nightstand next to the bed. "I'm down." Chan said, looking to Felix, "I'm okay with that." The blonde shrugged, grabbing Y/n's suitcase and pulling it out into the hallway.

Y/n stood up and looked around, making sure that she had left nothing on the ground

⋘ 𝑙𝑜𝑎𝑑𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑑𝑎𝑡𝑎... ⋙⋘ 𝑙𝑜𝑎𝑑𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑑𝑎𝑡𝑎... ⋙

Y/n turned and looked at her brother as she got ready to board the plane, "Okay, so you'll call when you've landed in Monaco, right?" Felix inquired, holding her wrists lightly. Y/n rolled her eyes and chuckled, "I promise that I'll call you as soon as I get to my new home in Monaco. Don't worry about me. Just make sure that you take care of yourself. All of you." Y/n gave a pointed look at Chan.

"What? Why'd you look at me like that?" Chan chuckled nervously, "I'm telling you to take care of yourself. You tend not to do that." Y/n joked, looking him in the side. Chan jumped away as if he was shocked and held his side, "No promises, but I'll try."

"Flight 35 A is now boarding."

Y/n looked over at where people were beginning to line up, "Alright, it seems I've got to go." The girl pointed behind her with a thumb. Felix pulled his sister into a hug and laid his head on her shoulder, "You better call me when you land. I'll fly to Monaco myself if you don't." He said voice muffled into her sweater vest.

"Okay, let go. I have to board." Y/n groaned, pushing the blonde away from her playfully, "See you, Y/n." Chan said, giving the girl a quick hug. Y/n grabbed her carry-on and boarded the plane, "Make sure the other Stray Animals are around when I call. I want to talk to all of you." Y/n spoke.

After a long flight, of which she slept through most, she hopped off the flight feeling groggy and completely disoriented. To be quite honest, she just wanted to go to sleep in a bed with thick blankets and the fan blasting on her face so she didn't overheat while sleeping. The thing was, she wouldn't be able to meet up with the person who sold her the house until the next day because the offices were closed and her stuff wouldn't arrive until the next day either, so she had to get a hotel for the night.

Y/n groaned as she rolled her neck, attempting to massage the stiffness out of her shoulder and neck as she entered the Uber, "Uh, Hôtel Fairmont Monte Carlo, s'il vous plaît." Y/n spoke in a tired and dull tone.

The driver nodded and pulled off. Y/n pulled out her phone and pressed on the contact of the one person she knew would be up. It was 9:41 PM in Monaco, which meant it was 4:41 AM in Seoul currently and there was one person she could guarantee would be up at that time.

Chan.

Y/n pulled out a pair of headphones with a large-diameter ear cup that completely encloses her ear and audio processor and put them on. Y/n looked out the window while the phone rang, "Hey! You're in Monaco, I'm guessing." Chan said as his face popped up on the screen. "Yeah, I'm in an Uber right now. I'm heading to the hotel." Y/n mumbled, mouth stretching into a little yawn.

"Oh, yeah. Your stuff isn't there yet, is it?" Chan asked, looking at something off to the side, "No, it'll be arriving tomorrow afternoon. I'll be contacting Mrs. Wolff tomorrow as well to schedule the interview. The jet lag was going to be a bitch." Y/n sighed, leaning against the window. "Yeah, it is. What time is it there?" Chan questioned, "It's, uh, 9:43 PM." Y/n answered, dragging her eyes away from the fogged-up window to the face on her phone.

"Have you eaten?" Chan questioned, "No, not yet. Have you?" Y/n raised an eyebrow. "Yeah, I ate some ramen earlier. I'm just snacking on some honey butter chips right now." Chan responded, lifting the yellow bag to the screen.

Y/n opened her mouth to say something, but she was interrupted by the driver, "Madame, nous sommes arrivés à votre destination."

Y/n looked out the window and saw they were indeed in front of the luxury hotel, "D'accord, merci, monsieur. Je vous souhaite une excellente soirée. Sorry, Chan. I have to go. Tell Lixie and the others to text me when they can." Y/n said, exiting the car.

"Okay, I will. Have a good night." Chan said, "Have a good day, mate." Y/n said before hanging up. Y/n pocketed her phone and grabbed her items from the trunk. She waved at the driver in thanks and made her way into the hotel. It was a random one that she picked out and it was probably way too luxurious for a one-night stay, but it was the closest to where her new home would be and she was way too tired to find an even cheaper hotel.

She checked in and paid for the room, trudging up the stairs in a slumped-over position. As soon as she found her room, she stood up and unlocked it as if she was being followed by someone and had to enter quickly. Y/n threw the door open and closed, dropping her bags where she stood before making her way to the bed and getting in

Y/n woke up the next day and immediately ordered an Uber. Her items would be arriving today and she already slept in pretty late. Y/n's dark brown eyes swept the room until they landed on the digital clock on the dresser. It was 2:52 PM. The truck with her stuff would be there around four and the realtor would be there around 3:00, so she had to get going pretty quickly. Luckily, her Uber was on its way and she would be at her new address in no time.

Honk!

Y/n's head snapped up once she had heard the honking of the horn. She could only assume that they were there for her and the chime from her phone telling her that her ride has arrived only confirmed her suspicion. Y/n quickly gathered her items and sped and walked out of the front of the building with her hand up in a wave to show that it was her who had ordered the Uber. Y/n pulled up the trunk after the driver had opened it from the inside of the car.

Y/n put her suitcase and carry-on bag into the trunk and closed it, rushing to get to the backseat and get into the car. "Bonjour, Monsieur. Monaco, La Condamine, 98000 Monaco, s'il vous plaît." Y/n said breathily, pulling her phone out of the bag she had and opening the notes app. Seeing as she would have to move all of her stuff in, of course with the help of the moving pros, and there were some other things she needed to do through the day, she decided that it would be a good idea to make a to-do list.

To do for today and tomorrow

Move my stuff into the house

Rearrange everything to my liking

Unpack everything

Go grocery shopping

Call Mrs. Wolff back

Y/n reread the list over and over to see if anything else came to mind, but when nothing did, she pocketed her phone again and stared out the window. Monaco was a truly gorgeous place and she could see herself living out the rest of her life in this beautiful country.

She could definitely see herself finding a man or woman, who would most definitely be an F1 fan seeing as the country basically lived and breathed F1, finding a much better home, settling down, and having a family.

It wasn't something she wanted anytime soon since she was still pretty young, but it was something she could see happening when she was ready.

Actually, now that Y/n thought about it, and as the car passed by the water, she doesn't think any house, which was actually one of those apartments where you have a whole floor to yourself, would be better than the one she got. It cost an arm and a leg to get and she would be able to afford it after she finally started the PA position.

The flat included three bedrooms, one bathroom, two shower rooms, one separate toilet and a kitchen. In total, it has four rooms. Two underground parking spaces provide space for any vehicles and a balcony that overlooked the water. It that high street, city center, bus station, and shopping center all within 500 m, so it was well situated.

Y/n sighed and closed her eyes. This was the start of her new life. While she was is Monaco, she was going to be a different person then what she was in Australia. Gone is the shy, antisocial, introverted girl that lived in Sydney and in is the girl who is still the same thing, but trying to be more confident.

"Pardonnez-moi, madame. Nous sommes arrivés." The driver announced, "Hm? Oh, merci beaucoup." Y/n thanked as she exited the car. She waited until the driver popped the trunk and then grabbed her things, "Merci encore, madame. J'espère que vous passerez une excellente soirée."

The driver gave Y/n a smile, "C'est très gentil de votre part. J'espère que vous passerez également une excellente soirée." She responded before driving off, giving Y/n a wave as she drove off.

"Miss Lee?" A voice with a thick accent called out from behind her. Y/n whirled around to face a tall man with dark, curly hair, a chisled jaw, and broad shoulders. It was the realtor, "Ah, Mr. Tomatis. How are you doing today?" Y/n greeted, looking to the side so she didn't make eye contact. "I am well. Listen, I would love to stay and talk with you, but I have an important showing to do, so here's your keys. Enjoy your new home." Mr. Tomatis gently place the keys into her hands before walking off.

"Oh-kay. Guess it's time to check out the new place in person." Y/n took a deep breath, trilling as she exhaled. The girl made her way into the building until she reached her floor. Y/n put the key into the door and unlocked it, "Home sweet home, I guess. Once I step through this door, my new life officially starts." Y/n mumbled, resting her forehead against the cool wood. Y/n opened the door and wheeled her suitcase in behind her, "Woah, this is sick!" Y/n awed, looking around her home.

She left the suitcase and carry-on near the entrance and walked around, looking through each room and mentally mapping what went into each room and how she would lay everything out.

Once she was done with her mental mapping, her hands fell to her sides and she looked around with a flat face and eyes dulled due to boredom.

She didn't know what to do now.

The truck wouldn't be there until four and it was only... Y/n looked down at the screen of her phone, which displayed the time in a large blue font...3:12.

Suddenly, an idea popped into Y/n's head. She had to schedule the interview and was advised to do so once she was settled down enough, but since she had time to waste, why not do it now? Y/n opened her contacts and pressed on Susie's, making sure it was on speaker, "Hello?" The sweet Irish voice that Y/n had heard last time, answered the phone.

"Uh, yes. It's Y/n Lee. I'm calling to set up my interview for the PA position." Y/n stammered, "Oh, Ms. Lee! I've been expecting your call back. I assume that means you're in Monaco?" Susie asked, "Yeah, uh, yes...ma'am." Y/n confirmed, nodding as of the woman on the other line could see her.

"Great, I know that you're going to need some time to settle down completely, so the interview will not be taking place any time this week. How about the next week around 10:00 AM? What day works for you?" Susie questioned, "I can do next week. How about Wednesday?" Y/n pulled out a pen and pad of paper to write down the date and time. "Wednesday works perfectly. Alright, I will e you then." Susie said.

"See you then." Y/n confirmed before pressing the 'end call' button. Just as Y/n put her phone on the counter, she got another call but this time from the company that had her stuff, telling her that they had arrived early and were ready to move her stuff in.

Y/n ran out the front door and down the stairs to see that they had indeed arrived earlier than planned and were already beginning to unload the lighter stuff, "Hey, I didn't expect you to be so early. Please, follow me and I'll show you where my apartment is." Y/n said, grabbing a box and leading the way to her floor.

After showing the movers where she was, Y/n went back down to grab another, but before she could make it too far, someone stopped her. "Hey, I couldn't help but notice you're moving in. Do you want some help?" A tall slender man with dark hair and dark eyes. The man in front of her was the very definition of tall, dark, and handsome and Y/n was the definition of awkward around pretty people.

Y/n opened her mouth to decline, probably stutter through the sentence before falling too embarrassed to continue speaking, when another voice spoke up. "Babe, what are you doing? Who's this?" A woman who absolutely gorgeous saddeled herself next to the man, looking up at Y/n with a raised, perfectly sculpted, eyebrow. "I-uh..." Y/n's eyes darted around frantically, trying to find any way out of the situation.

She knew she said she was going to be a totally different person than she was in Australia, but she had the worst night of sleep where her body got too hot with the blankets, too cold with the fan, and still too hot with both. She also kept waking up randomly during the night, feeling dizzy and disoriented. She also may be up and doing things, but she was severely jet lagged and wanted to do nothing, but drop dead on the floor and sleep until she could physically no longer sleep.

Y/n was going to be quite honest, she could use the help and it would make things go a lot faster, but how was she, a socially awkward person, to talk to two very pretty people?

Answer; she didn't.

She walked past them with a quick 'excuse me' pretending like she didn't hear them. If they got upset with her, she'll just say her hearing aids weren't on or turned up enough for her to hear that they were speaking to her. "Wait! Ma'am, hold on." The man called out, following Y/n outside and grabbing her wrist gently, stopping her in her tracks. Y/n steeled herself and whirled around with a fake smile, "Oh, sorry. Can I, uh, can I help you?" Y/n asked, eyes darting between the man, who was giving her a smile, and the woman, who was scowling at her with her arms crossed.

"Yes, you can help us. My boyfriend asked you a question and you just walked past us as if you didn't hear. Are you deaf or something?" The girl sneered.

"Yes."

"Pa-pardon?" The girl asked, dropping her arms, Y/n turned her head to the side, showing the couple her cochlear and the the hearing aid, "I-I am in fact...deaf." Y/n muttered, turning to go get more boxes. Behind her she could hear the flustered man scolding his girlfriend while she stammered out flustered responses,

"How could you-?!"

"I..I didn't know, okay? Hop off my balls."

"Woman, what balls would I be hopping off of?"

"I... You... Just shut up! We should be helping anyway."

The two stopped their flustered play fighting as Y/n walked past. They both grabbed boxes and followed her, "Hey, we are so sorry." The man spoke up, speed walking so he was next to Y/n, "Especially me. I didn't know you were actually deaf and even if you weren't, I wasn't being the nicest. It's just, and this isn't an excuse, there have been some... how do I say this?" The girl asked, looking up.

"Issues." The man supplied, the woman snapped her fingers and pointed at her boyfriend before quickly putting her hand back under the box as it began to tip over in her hands, "Issues. We have had some issues with our last neighbours and it made me sort of defensive. Sorry about that. My name Chiara Lorenzi and this is my boyfriend..." Chiara trailed off so that he could speak for himself.

"Aaron Antognelli. And you are?" Aaron asked, depositing the box on the floor of Y/n's apartment, "Y/n Lee." Y/n answered. "It's nice to meet you, Y/n. I hope we get to become very good friends in the near future." Chiara said, nudging the taller girl as she and Aaron walked out to grab more boxes.

With the extra two sets of hands, Y/n and the movers were able to get everything inside quickly and it was a good thing too since the sky began to dark with thick rain clouds. "Um, thank you for your help." Y/n muttered, going into her house and beginning to close the door when a hand appeared between the door and the frame, keeping her from closing it fully, "Hold on there, kangaroo. Don't you want help unpacking?" Aaron asked.

"Oh, no. I couldn't ask for that. You have done quite a bit a-and I don't know you well enough." Y/n frantically shook her head. The couple shared a look before turning back to Y/n, "Please, we... I insist. We want to make up for the rocky way we greeted you. Of course, we won't force you to and if you don't want us to help you, we'll leave." Chiara said.

Y/n sighed and nodded, opening the door fully to let the couple in. She didn't know them or trust them, but she also needed all the help she could get. That, and she was shit at decorating, so it would be nice to enlist the help of someone else.

Chiara and Aaron looked around, "Why does your apartment look so much better than ours?" Aaron asked, "I thought they were all the same." Y/n said, looking at her spacious place. "Nah, yours has much more space, but it could be the fact that you're living alone that makes it seem that way." Aaron shrugged.

Chiara whirled around and clapped her hands together, "Alright, let's get this done."

With a yelp, Y/n fell out of her bed as the alarm she had set on her phone blared in her ear that contained the hearing aid. She had so much fun with Aaron and Chiara the previous night that she ended up going to be later than she usually liked to whenever she had something important to do the next day. After the day they helped her unpack, the two quickly became friends Y/n and they had been hanging out with each other ever since.

Y/n groaned and hobbled over to a cabinet near her bed where she kept her medicine, "Shit, getting drunk the day before my interview was not smart." Y/n grumbled, opening a bottle of pills and a bottle of water from her mini fridge.

Y/n gathered her clothing and put it on the end of the bed then went and took a scalding hot shower that helped her sober up. Y/n gave a quiet groan as she messaged her shoulders, "Man, my shoulders are stiff." She complained.

Stepping out of the shower, Y/n put on her outfit, which consisted of wool wide-leg pants, a skims t-shirt bodysuit, a nocturne cropped jacket, and a pair of heeled patchwork boots. Looking in the mirror, Y/n narrowed her eyes, "Hmm, wait." Y/n looked around to the clothes she had thrown everywhere when looking for a good outfit.

Her room was covered in an explosion of beige, brown, white, and black. There was not a lick of color in any of her wardrobe, save for her shoes, which were still not brightly colored, so they still fit her aesthetic. "I need to add some color to my wardrobe." Y/n muttered, before grabbing her things and making her way down to where the Uber was waiting for her.

She gave the driver the address of a café that Susie had suggested, Café de Paris, and off they went. Y/n's heart thudded so hard in her chest that she was pretty sure that the beat was coming from her stomach rather than her chest. Y/n ran a hand through her long, messy hair and tried to calm the nervous feeling in her stomach.

The driver looked at Y/n through the rear mirror and cleared his throat, "Nerveux? Vous avez un rendez-vous ou une raison de vous énerver?" He asked, causing Y/n to jump from the sudden addressing. "Euh, oui. J'ai un entretien très important. J'ai déjà obtenu le poste, mais je suis encore nerveux." Y/n answered shakily, wringing her hands together nervously.

The driver studied Y/n through the mirror before turning his eyes back to the road, "Eh, don't be nervous. It must be just a 'get to know you' interview." The driver said, switching to English and waving a hand to the side as if he was brushing Y/n's nervousness away.

"You're right. Merci, Monsieur." Y/n sighed, leaning back against the headrest. The rest of the car ride was spent in silence.

⋘ 𝑙𝑜𝑎𝑑𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑑𝑎𝑡𝑎... ⋙⋘ 𝑙𝑜𝑎𝑑𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑑𝑎𝑡𝑎... ⋙

Susie sat at a table in Café de Paris, occasionally looking at her watch as she waited for Y/n to arrive. Admittedly, she had arrived a bit too early, but she was excited. She had been looking forward to finally starting the F1 academy and with Y/n working by her side, she'd make these girls into Formula One champions.

Susie continued looking out the window for Y/n, even though she has no idea what Y/n looked like at all. Y/n walked through the door and approached Susie from behind, "Mrs. Wolff?" Y/n spoke up, causing the blonde woman to jump up. As soon as they were face-to-face, both women froze.

Now, Y/n was open about her sexuality and what she liked, but Susie wasn't. Susie had never been interested in women and she wasn't one who would ever fall in love when she already had a husband and a beautiful son, but Susie's heart raced looking at the younger woman and she couldn't understand why. Susie had no problem admitting when another woman is beautiful and the one in front of her? Well, she was drop dead gorgeous in Susie's eyes.

"Ah, Ms. Lee. You startled me." Susie chuckled, putting a hand on her chest to calm her racing heart. Whether it was racing because of Y/n's beauty or because she genuinely got startled, she didn't know. Either way, the woman in front of her made her heart race. "My apologies, Mrs. Wolff. I didn't mean to scare you." Y/n apologized, giving the older woman a shallow bow instinctively.

"Shall we sit and begin?" Susie asked, gesturing to the chair. Y/n nodded and sat down across from the older woman. "Okay, remember that you already have the job. This is just to get to know you a bit more. Do you want to order something or do you just want to start?" Susie questioned.

"I would like to order something." Y/n muttered, Susie gestured to someone and a waiter came over, "Are you ladies ready to order?" The waiter asked politely. "Yes, I would like a chocolate chaud and panna cotta parfumeé au citron." Susie told the waiter who wrote it down before turning to Y/n, "I would like Le Chou Profiterole and the Irish coffee. Please." Y/n said.

Once the waiter finished writing down their orders and left, Susie turned back to Y/n with a smile that made Y/n want to throw herself off a cliff. She was so pretty and Y/n didn't think Susie knew just how gorgeous she was.

"Okay, let's start while we're waiting for our orders. Can you tell me about yourself?" Susie questioned, "Oh okay, um... I'm Y/n Lee, I am half Chinese and Half Australian, I am 23 years old, I want to do modeling in my spare time, I like surfing and skiing, and I used to be a Formula Two driver before I contracted meningitis and had to stop." Y/n replied.

"You contracted meningitis?" Susie asked, "I did. I lost hearing in my right ear," Y/n turned her head and moved her hair, showing her cochlear, "I had to get a cochlear for my right ear and I have a hearing aid in my left because I'm losing my hearing in that ear. After I got my surgery, I just decided not to continue driving even though I would love to continue." Y/n shrugged.

Susie nodded, "If you had the chance, would you try and continue to drive in F2?" Susie questioned. Y/n sighed and looked around the café, "I honestly never thought about it. I wanted to but I didn't have enough money to continue, so I thought that my chances were over. If I had the chance to do it again, I don't know if I would take it. I'm turning 23 soon and I fell like I'm getting too old." Y/n said, looking up as the waiter arrived with their stuff.

"Thank you/Merci." Susie and Y/n said simultaneously. Y/n brought the glass mug up to her lips and took a sip of the drink. Y/n put the mug down and looked at Susie again, "What are your goals for the next five years?" Susie asked.

"Hmm, I think I still see myself working in the motorsports world or perhaps attempting to further my modeling career. Or both." Y/n answered, picking up one of the cream puff and taking a bite, refraining from making any sort of noise.

"Do you consider yourself a passionate person when it comes to this sport?" Susie inquired, Y/n nodded as she swallowed the pastry in her mouth, "I was..am...Before I got meningitis, I was obsessed with being a Formula One driver. I was about as passionate about it like most of the guys on the grid. It was my passion." Y/n explained.

Susie nodded and sat back in her chair, "That'll be all." She said, picking up her spoon and eating some of her panna cotta parfumeé au citron. Y/n paused halfway from the plate where she was reaching for another mini creampuff, "That's all?" She asked, "That's all." Susie reiterated

"Okay." Y/n nodded. She was honestly so unsure as to why she needed to do the interview when she was only going to be asked about four questions, "Now, let's get to know each other since we're going to be working closely together. My name is Suzanne Wolff, but you can call me Susie. I am Scottish, 39 years old, I have a wonderful husband who is the team principal of Mercedes-AMG PETRONAS Formula One team, and I have a gorgeous fiver-year-old son named Jack." Susie introduced herself.

The woman held out a hand for Y/n to shake, "It's wonderful to meet you, Mrs. Wolff. I look forward to working with you." Y/n said, grabbing the older woman's hand and shaking it firmly. Susie waved off her formalities, "Oh, please. Call me Susie. We'll be working close together, so we might as well drop the formalities." She chuckled.

The two women continued to talk about random topics, getting to know each other more and more. The two became quick friends and even made plans to hang outside of work sometime in the future and even talked about Y/n meeting her son and husband since she would have to meet them eventually.

By the time Y/n was in her Uber and on her way home, it was well into the afternoon and Y/n had a small permanent smile on her face as she thought about the older woman.

Y/n hated to admit it, but she tended to catch feelings for people quite easily. She didn't and never would believe in love at first sight, but she did believe that one can get to know someone well enough to gain some sort of feelings for someone.

And Y/n could tell that the bubbling feeling in her stomach was her feeling giddy and anxious. She was beginning to feel something for the older married woman, but she brushed it off. It was just a small puppy crush, and even if it wasn't, nothing would ever come of it. Susie was a heterosexual married woman with a family and if there was one thing Y/n could never be, it was a homewrecker.

Susie entered her home happily. Her husband and son greeting her at the entrance, "Hello, liebling. How was the interview? I can assume it went well since you're smiling from ear to ear." Toto said, kissing his wife on the forehead. "She's perfect, Toto. She is everything I wanted and more in a personal assistant. Not to mention she's absolutely gorgeous. If she were to go to a GP, people would assume she is some sort of supermodel WAG." Susie said absentmindedly.

Toto gave his wife an odd look as she bent down to greet their five-year-old. His wife was what some people would call a girl's girl and she definitely has complimented other women before, but the way she had talked about the woman she had met with made him feel curious. She had never sounded so infatuated with anyone other than him and Jack.

Of course, Toto knew that his wife was not going to cheat on him and especially not with another woman, but there was just a feeling in his gut that said there was something more than just a regular excitement to be getting the F1 Academy project off the ground.

"Yeah? Is that right?" Toto asked, "Yes. She used to be a F2 driver too, so she is the most perfect candidate for the job. I think you and Jackie would lover her." Susie said, kissing the top of Jack's head and carrying him into the kitchen.

Toto shook his head as he chuckled. He didn't know what the woman was like, but she must have been super amazing because she left such an impression on his wife that she was positively gushing about the new PA.

By the time Susie stopped talking about the new PA, Toto himself couldn't wait to meet her and he was now sharing the excitement that she was practically projecting off her in waves.

This was the start of something new and both Wolff's could tell.

↳ ❝ [Taglist] ¡!❞

@exotic-iris13 @alliwantisadonut @evie-119 @xoscar03 @cheyxfu @laur2608 @sunnylikesfrogs @goldenmoonbeam @victorharrington @only-nope

Unable to tag all of you

This one was over 6k words. I felt like I needed to give you guys this since I had been away for so long.

DO NOT ask me to update this story. I'll update when I can.

Anyway, only accepting 9 more people to be tagged

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pamgkrthwrites · 5 months

Note

Mafia!wukong and mafia!macaque with an involuntarily mute s/o that uses sign language to communicate.

(They aren't deaf they don't have a throat injury they just can't talk and haven't talked in years)

Please

Warning, the following content has disturbing/triggering themes such as; Organised Crime, Mafia/Mobs, and others. I do not support or encourage these themes or actions, they are merely written fictional events for entertainment.

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Wukong

He doesn't know sign language when you two first meet but I personally love the headcanon that he is able to pick up any language within a matter of hours.

He doesn't ask questions on why you sign. He has picked up that you aren't deaf and so he doesn't push.

If he notices you cover your ears, he'll lead you to a private room before softly kissing your cheek.

He signs back most of the time, but sometimes the times don't call for it. Like someone has a gun aimed at you.

He quickly pulls you away and yells at you run to the saferoom until he finishes dealing with whoever.

He usually is someone who likes noise, but for you he is willing to give that up.

If you do ever decide to speak to him, he'll try to hold back how happy he is to finally hear it.

He listens to you, trying to memorise the sound of your voice while he has the chance.

He still doesn't push you, he'll never push you. If you ever tell him why he'll listen but he'll never push.

Macaque

Probably prefers the silence to be honest.

He likes not hearing at least one more thing.

That does mean to grab his attention though, you might have to lightly tap him on the shoulder.

Once he starts falling in love with you though, he wishes he could hear your voice so he could have something to drown out everything else.

Unlike Wukong, he does ask why you choose to be mute. He doesn't judge you on why and does keep his mouth shut on the topic.

He gets angry if someone else tries to get you to talk. If you are going to talk, he doesn't want to you to be pressured into it.

I think it'll take him a few months to learn how to sign, though that doesn't mean he doesn't understand what you are signing. More like he isn't use to the hand movements.

When he does finally hear your voice, he doesn't really connect the dots until he sees your mouth moving and sound comes out.

His full attention is on you now, and it's the best thing he has ever hard.

#lmk x reader #x reader #lmk sun wukong #lmk sun wukong x reader #sun wukong x reader #lmk macaque #lmk macaque x reader #macaque x reader #mafia au

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maochira · 11 months

Text

Blue Lock boys seeing your scars for the first time

Characters: Rin, Barou, Isagi, Tokimitsu, Zantetsu

Tags: gn!reader, established relationship, reader has a past of self-harm (cutting), fluff and comfort!!!

Only read if you're in the right mental space to confront yourself with this topic - stay safe!💟 Also, please don't request more of these. It's a sensitive and personal topic that I'll only write about if I feel like I'm in the right mental space (side note: I've been clean for almost 4 years:])

You're a few weeks into your relationship with your boyfriend, and while you've already talked a lot about deeper topics, something like self-harm never came up and you never found the right moment to tell him about your past with it. You weren't intentionally hiding it from him, but you knew you had to tell him at some point. Today you finally find a good moment for it...

As soon as you tell him about it, Rin is in denial. Even after you show him your scars, he keeps saying things like "No, you didn't do that" because he can't stand the thought of you hurting yourself. After a few minutes, he processed the new information and pulls you into a tight hug. He doesn't let go for minutes and keeps repeating how much he loves you and that if you ever get the urge to do something to yourself again, he'll be there for you until those thoughts are gone. "And you know I wouldn't love you any less if you ever hurt yourself again, right? But I'd do anything to prevent it from happening again."

Barou isn't sure about what to say. He just looks at you with a mix of shock and worry. He's afraid of saying something wrong that could hurt you in a moment like this - he knows he comes across as too harsh often - so he wants to let his actions speak instead. He looks down at your arms and gently pushes up your sleeves. The sight of your scars makes his heart ache, but it doesn't make him love you any less. This only makes him more overprotective over you than he already is. Barou carefully grabs your wrists and pulls your arms close to his face before he starts placing kisses all over your scars. "You're so strong... Those scars show the mental battles you went through. I'll make sure no battle will ever be bad enough to leave scars on your skin again."

Isagi gets worried immediately. He doesn't want to step over any boundaries, but he can't help but ask you a few questions about it. He doesn't force you to say anything you don't want to, but there are a few things he wants to know like for how long you've been clean, if you still get the urge to hurt yourself and what he can do to help if the urge returns. He politely asks if he can see your scars, even though it makes his heart hurt. He knows he'll get used to it at some point. It's a part of you he doesn't want to look away from. "Thank you so much for trusting me with this... You know you're still as beautiful to me as before, right? Your scars are a part of you, please never feel ashamed of them."

The moment you mention your past with self-harm, Tokimitsu gets tears in his eyes. He's really trying his best to not start bawling his eyes out, but when he gets the first glimpse of your scars, he can't hold his tears back anymore. He pulls you into a hug and starts apologizing over and over for crying because he doesn't want you to feel bad for your past. He refuses to let go of the hug and he also squeezes you a little too tight. He's just full of emotions and needs you this close to his body so he can process what you just told him. "S-sorry... It's just a lot to take in for me right now. But... I'm so proud of you for getting through this. You're so strong..."

Zantetsu gets extremely afraid of saying something stupid now. As much as he knows you don't mind his stupidity, he wants to avoid accidentally triggering you. He listens to everything you tell him about it and often nods to signal he's listening and understanding. Although, his sudden silence does worry you a little. When he gets to see your scars for the first time, he's speechless for a few moments. He feels like he has to say something now. He gets lost in his thoughts while trying to find the right words to say. You're already used to this, so you let him take his time until he feels confident enough to speak. But even after minutes, he can't manage to find the right words, so he pulls you into a long kiss and as you pull your faces away from each other, he looks into your eyes with the most loving expression you've ever seen on him. It tells you way more than words ever could.

Taglist: @starhrtz, @zyuuuu, @gojosorrygeto, @luvcalico, @rienniey, @kalinkavx, @kaineedstherapy12, @remy-rollm @truegoist, @vanitasbrainrot, @st4rcheese - sign up for my taglist right here!

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goldenbuckyyy · 1 year

Text

PARALYZED

Summary: Your mind is making you believe things you shouldn’t.

Pairings: Harry Styles x fem!Reader, Fem!Reader x OC, Mentions of HS x OC

Word Count: 4kish

Warnings: DOMESTIC VIOLENCE AGAINST PARTNER, mentions of blood, slapping, tugging, and previous events of D.V. Also being gaslit, believing something you shouldn’t, allures to depression, anxiety, PTSD from D.V events.

PLEASE DO NOT CONTINUE IF ANY OF THE ABOVE WARNINGS ARE TRIGGERING FOR YOU.

A/N: First off, I am so sorry I’m barely posting part 4! I know it’s been a long time since I posted part 3, but I was in a funk about this short series and I had no idea what to do with it! I’m thinking since it’s such a heavy topic, it felt almost draining, but.. here it is! And I hope you all enjoy it. 🫶🏻 thank you for supporting me and loving my work!! I’m also tagging the people that commented on the last part! Song Inspo: “Paralyzed” by NF

All my mistakes are my own. Please do not repost or translate my fics on any other site nor this one.

I appreciate any likes, reblogs, messages, and interactions. Please message me your thoughts!!! It fuels me!

Series Masterlist | Main Masterlist

Two weeks.

It’s been two weeks since you’ve been home since your accident.

Accident.

The word felt weird in your brain. It felt weird in your mouth. It felt weird even thinking about it.

Because the more you thought about it… the more your brain tried to remember the events that had happened to you and the more pain it caused you.

You had spent the entire time locked up in your home.

Absolutely terrified to go outside. To see your friends. To see your family.

You hadn’t even seen Harry and it wasn’t for his lack of trying. He called. He texted. He even came to the house when he knew Asher would be at work. He’d stay outside for hours in his Range Rover and you’d secretly watch him from the window upstairs that he didn’t know had the perfect view of him.

And he looked just as rough as you felt.

But you couldn’t find it in yourself to speak to him. Let alone see him.

Sometimes.. sometimes you’d cry sitting against the front door as you listened to Harry talking to you from behind it.

But you would simply just text him to leave you alone and that you couldn’t speak to him anymore.

He sent you so many messages daily and it made you feel guilty. Guilty for shutting him out after he was there for you. Ashamed for what you had done to Asher. And terrified because you didn’t want anything to happen to Harry. The more you thought about what had happened to you… the more it made you afraid of Harry getting hurt because of you.

You just felt so horrible. So ashamed. So guilty. So gross.

You couldn’t even bring yourself to record anything for your socials.

You had been posting old drafts that you had saved for a rainy day and you feared that your followers were slowly realizing something was going on. But you ignored the feeling and persisted with your day to day life.

Well, you were trying.

Your body still aches. You still felt incredibly sore, but it was slowly getting better.

The swelling around your face had gone down and the bruising was now a greenish/yellowing color. You still felt horrible. You felt hideous and ashamed.

You didn’t know why, but you felt so ashamed of yourself.

And you were terrified of Asher.

You couldn’t even look at him. He had gone on with his day to day life after you had been released from the hospital. He tried to be there for you, but he could tell something was wrong because you wouldn’t let him touch you.

You were so scared of him and you didn’t know why. You kept having nightmares of ‘the accident’ and the more and more you dreamt of it… the more the person resembled Asher. The more you saw the figure in your mind… the more their features twisted into Asher’s.

Those dark eyes turned into angry blue ones. The messy black hair in your dreams turned into bright blonde. The blurry jaw turned sharp and all the features soon morphed into Asher. And it terrified you.

Had it been Asher who had done this to you?

The more you thought about it… the more those muffled words the person yelled turned into words yelled at you by Asher.

The more you think about it the more your breathing starts feeling restricted because you can almost feel the way his strong hand was pressed against the base of your neck. The way he was physically choking you against the wall and how you cried to him, begging him to let you go, but he never did.

Silent tears fall down your cheeks as the memories pile into your thoughts. You didn’t want to believe it.

You couldn’t believe it.

You grip onto your shoulders as you hug your knees to your chest and the cold bathtub feels good on your naked skin. But you feel hollow inside.. almost empty.

The water surrounding your naked body is cold and your skin is breaking out into goosebumps. But you can’t find it in yourself to get out of it.

You feel as if you’re drowning in all of your emotions with your heart pounding in your ears. Trying to find the meaning of why he did this to you.

Why would he leave you with these scars inside of you that will never heal?

You know what you did was wrong. So wrong. That’s why you hadn’t spoken to Harry in two weeks, but did you honestly deserve all of this?

Maybe you did.

Maybe you did deserve this.

You did this. You cheated on him. You hurt him first. You destroyed him first. He just got even.

The annoying little voice in your head kept repeating those sentences to you and you were starting to believe it.

You let out a shaky breath as your body shakes with it. You slowly start to get out of the bathtub, your body feeling weak, and you know you look like shit.

You had been feeling so nauseated and disgusting. You couldn’t keep anything down, but you kept trying.

You obviously haven't been eating right and your body is showing it, but you avoid yourself in the mirror and dry yourself off in the dark closet. You pull on an oversized jumper and matching bottoms. You braid your wet hair into a braid and let out a deep sigh. Your chest feels heavy.

You sit for a second, letting your eyes slowly go up, and you catch a glimpse of yourself in the mirror. Your dark under eyes and hollow cheeks are enough to make you instantly look away. The bruises you still hold make your eyes sting. The fading handprint marks on your neck make you cringe. You close your eyes quickly and curse at yourself.

You slowly make your way to your bed, putting your phone to charge, and slipping under the covers.

And at that moment, Asher walks into the room in his work suit. His eyes immediately find you and you freeze in the bed.

You wonder if he knows that you know it was him.

Was it him?

It was.

His eyes never leave you as he bends down in front of you. You grip onto the covers around you and hold your breath when his fingers caress your face.

“How are you feeling?” He asks with sincerity in his voice and warmth in his eyes. And you wonder how he could have ever laid a hand on you.

“I’m okay,” you reply in a whisper and try to not shake underneath his touch.

Why are you afraid of him? He was upset and you deserved it.

“I’m glad,” he says as he quickly kisses your forehead and then goes into the bathroom. He shuts the door behind him and you let out a shaky breath that you were holding in. You wipe the wet kiss he left on your skin and then when you hear the shower start, your body relaxes into the bed.

Then your phone vibrates on your nightstand.

Your entire body runs cold and you quickly get it, jogging out of the room, and running downstairs.

You step outside into your patio and answer your phone. The cold air hitting your face and making you instantly shiver.

“You have to stop calling me,” you whisper immediately when you put the phone to your ear. Your heart thumps rapidly inside of your chest.

You hear a small sniffle from the other side of the call and your heart tightens.

“Sun..”

You clench your eyes tightly and try to even out your breathing, “Harry. I’ve told you to stop calling me. You.. you can’t call me anymore. Whatever we had, it’s done. It-it’s over.”

Even if your heart is screaming at you to let him back in. To ask him to come save you. To save you from Asher. To save you from yourself.

“Just please tell me why you’re still there! He hurt you! He did this to you. Why don’t you believe me?!” His voice is filled with anguish, disbelief, and he sounds absolutely devastated.

Because you can't admit that he did this to you. Because you deserve everything he did. Because you made the biggest mistake when you slept with Harry again. Harry doesn’t want you anymore.

You pinch the bridge of your nose as an uneasiness settles into the pit of your stomach. “What am I supposed to do, Harry? I-I don’t even know if it was him! I feel crazy! I feel insane! I-I feel insane for the way my brain is slowly making images of him doing this to me! How could—he didn’t,” you start pacing your backyard, wet grass tickling your feet, “How could he have done this to me?” You silently beg him for an answer.

You weep silently as he asks, “You remember?”

You silently groan and wipe your tears away in a rush.

“I don’t know what I remember! I-I don’t know what’s real or what’s fake. I just know that you need to stop calling me,” you demand as you quickly end the call and sit down on your patio chair. Trying to relax your heart rate as the ugly images rush in your brain.

You clench your eyes tightly together, your hands grasping at the roots of your hair, and you let out a little whimper.

Stop crying. You deserved it.

You slowly start to work on your breathing, your entire body shaking with feelings of anxiety and desperation, and you lean back onto the chair. Letting yourself inhale deeply and calmly. Your eyes are still closed as you try to relax.

“Y/N?”

Asher’s voice startles you which makes you flinch, which causes you to jump in the chair, your hands gripping onto the arm rests in a panic, and gasping deeply. Your eyes go wide in fright and you see Asher standing in front of you in only his pajama pants. His blonde hair is wet and messy.

“Hey, it’s just me.” He coos at you, leaning down to watch you, his cold hands covering your own, and you try not to snatch them back.

He notices your hesitation and he frowns.

“Why are you outside?” His voice suddenly turned cold.

“I just needed some fresh air,” you lie as you try to speak clearly and without any shakiness.

Because your mind won’t stop trying to tell you about what happened.

His eyebrows furr and his lips go tight.

“You need to come inside before you catch a cold,” he demands. His hand tightens around your wrist and he basically tugs you onto your feet and drag you inside.

You yelp loudly, “Asher, what are you doing? Let go of me!”

He loves you. He wouldn’t hurt you. Would he?

He already did.

His hand only grips tighter around you as he drags you into the kitchen.

The only place you had been avoiding since the accident. Your heart rate immediately goes sky high, confusion runs through you, and you beg, “Asher.. wh-what are you doing? Let me go, please.”

Fear runs through your body when he shoves you into the kitchen stool and he stands in front of you.

“Since when do you remember?”

Your mouth goes dry as your eyes go wide, “Remember what?”

He rolls his eyes, crossing his arms across his chest, and his dark eyes turn to you. “Let’s just stop this game where you pretend you don’t remember what I did to you and why I did it to you.”

“I…I don’t—I don’t know…”

You look down to try to avoid his hard stare and start fumbling with your fingers. A feeling of uneasiness surrounds you.

His hand slams onto the countertop, the loud bang making you jump, and tears fill your eyes. Because you’re terrified. Your lip quivers in fright.

“Stop fucking lying to me!! You’ve been lying to me for years! Saying you and Harry are over! That-that nothing was going on between you guys! That it was over! It was never fucking over!! You kept fucking him behind my back and I want to know why!”

His hands grip your arms tightly, tears falling down your cheeks as you try to avoid his eyes, and he grabs your chin in his hand.

“Stop fucking crying and tell me why you kept fucking him!!” He roars at you as angry tears run down his face, chest heaving in rage, and he looks terrifying.

You cry into his palm, “I-I d-don't know why! It-it just happened, I s-swear!! Please, Asher! Please believe me! It only h-happened a couple times and—-“ you whine as his grip tightens around your chin and pain shoots all over your body from it.

“So, who’s the father?”

What?

His question makes your tears halt, you suck in a deep breath, and your hands immediately go into his wrist to try and pull him off of you. Your eyes staring into his own in shock, “What are you t-talking about?!”

Father?

He shoves you off his palm and you steady yourself in the chair again, watching him, and trying to stop more tears from falling. He walks around the kitchen, shaking his head, and he lets out a chuckle in disbelief.

“Asher!” You cry out, standing up this time even though you are shaking from head to toe, and you feel completely afraid of him. You have to know what he meant.

“What are you talking about?!”

He turns to look down at you, his eyes roaming your body, and he stops at your belly. You flinch under his attention, wrapping your arms around yourself as if you’re trying to protect your body from him, and he moves closer to you.

“I told the nurse from the hospital that I’m your fiancée and she told me that you’re pregnant.” You gasp loudly, covering your mouth as sobs break through you, “The only reason why they told me was because they were about to tell you after they checked your blood work again to make sure, but I begged them not to say anything. Saying something about how it would be too much for you too soon.” He rolls his eyes at your sobs and continues, “I had to practically beg on my knees for them not to tell you, but you were beaten up so bad that they felt bad for you.”

He leans down to look into your eyes as you try to back away.

“Little did they know it was me who did it to you,” he whispers, “but then I found out you’re pregnant. And I admit.. I did feel a little bit guilty. But then I felt pissed. Because I don’t even know if the baby is mine. Do you?”

You whimper as he gets closer to you, your arms wrapping tighter around your body, and you look down to your feet.

“You did this to me,” you sob out in a whisper, finally admitting it out loud, and you feel your shoulders start to shake.

He suddenly grabs your neck and in an instant without even hesitation, you react by slapping his face hard. The loud smack startles him as an angry groan rages out of his chest and you instantly retract backwards, fumbling and tripping on your feet to the floor.

Why would you hit the man who loves you?

“I’m sorry! I’m sorry! I’m sorry! Don’t touch me, I’m sorry! Please don’t hit me!” The words fly out of your mouth at a rapid speed as you quickly scatter into the corner of the room into a ball, trying to shield yourself from him with your arms, and your breathing picks up instantly.

Asher’s quick steps allow him to reach you in an instant, his big hands swallow your wrist, and he pulls you to your feet. You stumble into his embrace as he holds you tightly against his body.

His free hand tugs into your hair, pulling at it by the roots and he laughs when you let out a pained whine, and tears spring out in the corner of your eyes, and you’re frozen in his hold.

He’s pulling your hair down so that you’re looking up at him, his tight hold doesn’t let you move an inch, and his white teeth are covered in his own blood from the hard hit you gave him.

“Are you scared of me?” He questions as he slowly caresses your face.

You let out a low whimper as you watch him, scared to even breathe.

“Why would I ever hit you? You’re my fiancé and I love you,” his voice is steady and cynical. You gulp down the lump in your throat as your lips quiver.

Your body is aching already from his tight hold and you wish you were braver.

“I would never hurt you again. Don’t you trust me?” he whispers into your neck as he starts kissing down your jaw. You shiver at his touch and don’t move.

“Isn’t that right? I would never hurt you again. I’m sorry I ever touched you like I did before. I was only upset. You forgive me, right?,” he whispers into your mouth as his lips hover over yours and he slowly kisses you. Fear is etched into every single fiber of your body and you don’t close your eyes as you watch him kiss your lips.

You let out a shaky breath as you move your lips against his as you try and think of what to do. How would you even get out of this situation?

He’s taller than you. He’s stronger and faster than you’ll ever be. You don’t think you’d be able to make it far. You don’t think you’d make it out the door without him catching you.

“And now you’re carrying my baby. I’m not ever going to hurt you again,” he whispers into your mouth as you cry silently.

What are you going to do now?

Harry couldn’t live with you.

He couldn’t eat. He couldn’t sleep. He couldn’t fucking think without you.

He couldn’t even fucking breathe without you.

His chest hurt from your absence in his life and he was trying so fucking hard to help you. But you wouldn’t let him in.

He tried calling, he tried texting, he tried staying outside of your house to get you to talk to him, but you just wouldn’t. He didn’t want to force you to remember and he didn’t want to physically take you away from your home.

He couldn’t do that to you. But he was terrified every single second of the day. He didn’t know what to do.

He tried talking to your family and seeing if they had spoken to you or seen you, but they said they hadn’t. They said you messaged them every day, but only simple worlds that you were okay and that you were recovering. And that you were tired and needed to be alone.

It was killing Harry. Physically, mentally, and emotionally.

He was torn about what to do. Because he didn’t know what the fuck to do. How was he supposed to just take you away from your home? It would be basically kidnapping.

But he was scared that Asher was going to hurt you again. How was he supposed to know if he didn’t already?

He just wanted you to be okay. He just needed to see you. He just wanted to be with you.

He’d protect you. He’d love you. He’d keep you safe.

If only you’d let him.

And now you weren’t even speaking to him. You kept telling him to leave you alone and that everything that had happened between you two was a mistake.

How was he supposed to believe that? You are the love of his life.

He couldn’t give two fucks about Vivian and Asher.

Matter of fact, he called off his engagement with Vivian the second he got home from the hospital and she was out of his home the next day. She said she knew it was too good to be true and apparently fucked off to Paris.

Harry couldn’t bring himself to care because he was too worried about you. And he knew what he was doing wasn’t healthy. But what else is he supposed to do?

Kidnap you?

Take you away from your home and keep you in his?

Keep you in his home until you remember what Asher did to you? And make you leave him?

Maybe he should.

Harry’s eyes started burning as tears filled the brim of his eyes and he stumbles out a loud, frustrated sigh, because he’s so tired. He’s so fucking tired of crying!

He’s so upset at himself for not doing anything. He’s pissed off at the world. He’s pissed at himself. He’s pissed off at Asher for ever touching you and he’s pissed off at your brain for making you forget.

He wants to kill Asher. He wants to beat him to a pulp. He wants to make him hurt the way you hurt.

But how is he supposed to do that when you still believe he’s the golden boy you used to love?

Harry knows he’s not supposed to call you. He knows you probably won’t answer. You never do. Well, usually. But he misses your voice. He needs to hear your voice. He begs god that you remember and that you ask him to come for you. Please. He needs this.

He clicks on the first contact in his favorites list and his breathing almost hitches when he hears your voice.

“You have to stop calling me,” he hears your sweet voice whisper into the phone. His heart tightens in his chest.

He sniffles as he feels his lips quiver and he frowns, “Sun…”

“Harry. I’ve told you to stop calling me. You.. you can’t call me anymore. Whatever we had, it’s done. It-it’s over.”

He can hear your strangled breathing on the other side of the phone. His heart is thumping rapidly at your words. He pinches the bridge of his nose.

“Just please tell me why you’re still there! He hurt you! He did this to you. Why don’t you believe me?!” He yells into the phone trying not to get too upset. But he feels so much pain right now. He feels devastated. He just needs you to believe him. Why don’t you believe him?

He clutches his own chest as if he’s trying to console his own heart from the pain he’s feeling.

“What am I supposed to do, Harry? I-I don’t even know if it was him! I feel crazy! I feel insane! I-I feel insane for the way my brain is slowly making images of him doing this to me! How could—he didn’t.. How could he have done this to me?”

Harry listens to your rapid words and he aches for you. All he wants to do is take away everything you’re feeling. He wants to take away all your pain.

He begs god to give it to him instead. He can handle it. He can take it.

You can’t. He doesn’t know if he can save you from this. He wants to save you. And then it clicks.

He silently gasps when your words click in his own brain.

“You remember?”

He hears you groan into the phone before you speak again, “I don’t know what I remember! I-I don’t know what’s real or what’s fake. I just know that you need to stop calling me.”

Then, the line goes dead.

Harry stares at the phone in shock. His mind reels a million thoughts every second. What should he do?

He doesn’t even think before he shoves on some shoes and goes into his Range Rover.

He’s going to save you. Even if it kills him. He’s going to take you away from Asher.

And he hopes you forgive him for not coming sooner.

Tag list: @yellowtrain28 @sarcas-latte @st-ev-ie @ingrid-ingrid-ingrid @cherry01 @writinghost @that-daydream-look @marzhshaim

#harry styles x reader #harry styles x y/n #harry styles x you #harry styles x female reader #harry styles x fem!reader #harry styles x influencer!reader #harry styles writing #harry styles angst #harry styles au #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fan fic #harry styles #harry styles imagine #illicitaffairsau #harry styles cheating #harry styles smut #harry styles x y/n smut

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 7 months

Text

Helping Hand 1

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

Characters: Jonathan Pine, 40s reader

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.

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.

The computer beeps at you again. That shrill offensive chirp that makes your heart zing. You hold your fingers above the keyboard and cringe. You can’t seem to get through one transaction without error.

You try to back out but a pop-up shows, asking for manager approval. You give a sheepish smile to the customer and apologise. You could point to the trainee sticker on your name tag or tell them it’s only your third day, but you won’t make excuses. The two other associates you started with are doing just fine.

Giselle comes over as you look behind you searchingly. She snaps the gum in her mouth and rolls her eyes, “what is it this time?”

“Sorry, I–”

“Back out of the sale,” she snips.

“I tried, it won’t let me,” you gesture to the screen.

She doesn’t even read it and puts in her pin. You bite your lower lip as the total screen finally shows. You ask the customer cash or card. They say card but you hit cash. When you try to go back, you get the same sirenesque chirp. UGH!

Giselle doesn’t say a word as she keys in her pin again, huffing before she storms off. You blame yourself. You’re not good with technology. You didn’t grow up with a computer lab in your school or a cell phone in your back pocket. You were a bit too early for that.

It all just passed you by. Like everything else in your life. Your career, your marriage, your hopes. You gave up the first for the second, and let the third shrivel away to regret. You definitely never expected to be starting over again at this age. To be a retail slave in your 40s. Divorced and depressed.

You get the customer checked out and bagged up. You hand them the paper-sheathed books and give a smile. There’s a tick of impatience in their cheek. You don’t blame them. Andy always said you were too slow. Clueless. Well, he’s gone now, you don’t have to worry about his opinions. And you won’t get to prove them wrong.

“Go sort the sale tables. They’re a mess.” Giselle orders as she checks her manicure, “I’ll take the till.”

You nod. It’s probably the best idea. You’re not much of a salesman so you don’t often walk the floor, but you’re good for grunt work. You always were in the background, making sure everything looked just right.

You push through the waist high door that closes out the general public from behind the counter. You surpass the queue of customers waiting and head through the small homegoods section towards the bargain floor. You go to the first table and sift through the mess of cookbooks and crafting manuals.

The next is history. Mostly military and the like. Hollow eyes of soldiers staring through you, men in armour on horses, and tanks rolling over mulched up dirt. You reach for a book on the Battle of Britain but it’s swept up out of your grasp.

You look at the man as he examines the cover. His blonde hair is tidy, his blue eyes gleam as they scan the book, and his grey suit is cute precisely to his figure. You fold your hands over the nearest stack and muster a smile.

“Hello, sir,” you greet, “am I in your way?”

“Not at all,” he lifts his head, an amiable expression softens his features, “browsing.”

He sets the book exactly where it belongs. You slide your hands off the book, keeping them clutched in front of you. You’re not sure how to proceed. Right, customer service.

“Can I help you find anything?” You offer.

“I know my way around, pretty well,” he assures you, “pity,” he takes another book and puts it in its place, “people come and make such a mess. Leave you all this work.”

“Well, it’s what I’m paid for, I suppose,” you grab a book too and another identical one, collecting three before finding their slot.

“Still,” he steeples a hand on the nearest book, dragging his fingers thoughtfully. “Do you read? Hmm, that sounds rather… presumptuous. I mean, do you read any of this? History?”

“Um, some, admittedly I’ve devoured a few biographies of Princess Diana,” you shrug, “but nothing more bloody than that.”

“Ah, yes, war, terrible thing. No wonder it’s all on sale,” he chuckles, “what kind of person would subject themselves to such savagery?”

You want to shrug again but it seems rude. Almost dismissive. He’s talkative but not annoyingly so. He is charmingly casual.

“I’ve not seen you here before,” he considers you, eyes flitting up and down, “ah, I see, trainee. You are new.”

You part your lips and pause before you collect your wits, “uh, yeah, I started on Monday. You must come here often?”

“Now and again,” he arches his brow as if telling a joke.

Suddenly, you’re self-conscious. You must be older than this man, if even by only a few years. And look at him, he’s established, confident, and he knows exactly what he wants. But you, you’re just muddling through until you can return to your bachelor apartment and TV dinner.

“I’m certain I’ll see you again,” he winks, “Jonathan,” he touches his lapel subtly, then sounds out your name with a deadly lilt. His voice hits a timbre that plucks in your chest, “it was very nice to meet you.”

“Oh, you as well,” you eke out, “if you need anything else, I’ll be around, sir.”

“I’ll be sure to look for you,” he smiles and the tension dissipates at that simple gesture. “Have a splendid night.”

He taps the stack of books under his hand and pushes away. He fixes his tie as he passes you, strutting off with no special urgency. You fight not to watch after him. He is suave and admittedly handsome. But you are you; middle-aged and painfully average.

#jonathan pine #dark jonathan pine #dark!jonathan pine #jonathan pine x reader #drabble #au #series #helping hand #the night manager #bookstore au

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aloesarchives · 5 months

Text

Kengan Headcanon: Gaolong's reaction to an opponent speaking about you in a unsavory manner

Warnings: Swearing on my end, reader been ogled at, gender neutral reader/pronouns

Series: Kengan Ashura/ Kengan Omega

Pairing: Gaolong Wongsawat x GN! Reader

Word count: 1988

Pronouns: They/them (reader is referred as partner and (Y/N))

(A/N: Been sitting in my file for a year. Now it's finally finished and posted. Please let me know if there is anything else I need to tag in my warnings.)

So I already established that in my headcanon of Gaolang that he respects women unironically, actually he respects people in general.

That’s because he’s just GOATED like that and is overall a decent person, especially in the world/universe of Kengan.

But back to the topic, the reason why I want to establish this is he is someone that doesn’t take no shit from anyone. Based on what we learned in Ashura, Gaolang looks down upon those who are cocky and don’t take fighting seriously. Looking more into it, he normally just gets irritated by them due to his calm and collected composure.

In the world of the sport boxing, it’s no stranger that he will come across people who don’t fall under the definition of sportsmanship. Gaolang has his fair share of opponents that need a little bit of humbling, and he for sure gives it to them during the boxing match. It also doesn’t help his perception of them when they think and openly claim they can clean Gaolang up, making him believe they’re shallow inside and out. But he only does the pre-fight press conference because his manager told him it builds up his good reputation and consistent publicity. Knowing him, he wouldn’t really go to these but he does it for the sake of the sport and the benefits it brings as previously mentioned.

In a normal situation at a pre-fight press conference, he’ll get annoyed by these fighters and let that emotion subside after the press conference is done. He’ll reply nonchalantly to anything that’s thrown at him whether it’s questions or remarks from his opponents that tests the waters. He knows how to handle them and just waits to get into the ring so his fighting can do all the talking for him.

That’s until there was one opponent he had to fight he wouldn’t forget. Gaolang’s title as heavyweight champion was never challenged nor questioned at all. But during that moment in time, Gaolang’s title as champion was being questioned when another boxer was racking up wins left and right. Although this boxer was slightly younger, he was picking up fast and his fights looked impressive. Eventually, this novice boxer was turning heads and getting popular to the point where rumors and speculation about him being the new champion in the heavyweight division. It seemed absurd to think so, but it wasn’t out of the picture.

Gaolang saw the boxer’s other fights and understood where the praise was coming from. Although Gaolang was confident in his abilities, he still was cautious of the other’s abilities and boxing style. So like always, Gaolang trained like he always does. This wasn’t new to you at all since you have been with Gaolang for quite some time and married for a few years at that point in time.

You thought this opponent was different as he seemed humble and didn’t bark a lot. After turning on the t.v. back in Thailand, you started watching the pre-fight press conference. Again, nothing new to you at all. When the questions from reporters started coming in, both boxers answered them as normal. However, you had a feeling that something was off about the guy. You could tell what it was but your gut had a strange feeling that couldn’t be shaken.

It was not until the last 15 minutes of the conference that the novice boxer started to bite off more than he can chew. There was one reporter left that triggered a particular answer from him that caught Gaolang’s attention. However, what got a reaction out of him was when the boxer mentioned your name.

“But I will admit though, Gaolang. I’m jealous of you. You’ve got a beautiful and wonderful partner there. I wish I had someone like (Y/N).”

Gaolang didn’t like where this was going. More so when someone mentions your name that wasn’t friends, family, or King Rama. He knows people like to use your name to throw off Gaolang but he knows how to deal with those who try to use your name to their advantage.

But it doesn’t mean Gaolang doesn’t feel any sort of anger when this happens, especially now.

Gaolang stood up and gave his signature glare to his opponent. He then walked across the stage and stood in the middle. The boxer did the same but he had a stupid shit eating grin plastered on his face.

“What’s with the face, Gaolang? I thought you would agree since you have (Y/N) to yourself, ya’know? Having such a fine person as a partner is something between us two men with good taste could understand.”

“Watch your tongue, (Boxer’s name). (Y/N) is not an object and is not to be ogled at, have some respect.”

But the boxer didn’t know any better and forgot to hold his tongue. The next few things that came out his mouth sent Gaolang’s blood boiling. Then there’s you who gasped and covered your mouth as you watched what unfolded in front of you on the screen. Deepening his glare more while still keeping his stoic face, he looked down upon the novice boxer.

“Your words against (Y/N) are punishable crimes, and I will deliver the punishment without further question.”

With that, Gaolang turned and walked towards the exit. All chaos breaks out in the conference room. Meanwhile, you were sitting at home with the feeling of disgust and a pinch of fear. You never minded when your name came in the news, but this type of attention was something you feared and the fact a man said on live television with no hesitation was terrifying.

Basically, Gaolang went straight to his hotel room and took a cool shower to calm down.

The anger subsided but the feeling of repulse didn’t.

There are only 3 things that Gaolang shows pride, loyalty and devotion towards: the country of Thailand, King Rama, and you.

And how dare that boxer disrespect you in front of him. The absolute audacity!!!

After Gaolang finishes his shower, he calls you to see if you're okay. Whether it is physically or emotionally, Gaolang needs to make sure you’re doing alright. Gaolang, as always, is respectful towards you in anything. That’s why he has never mentioned you or your relationship to the public unless you allow it. But even then, he wants it to be lowkey af.

Sure, you have calmed down. However, you were a little shaken by this. I mean, I would if a random man said some unsavory things about me on public broadcasting.

Gaolang apologized for letting this happen to you, to which you told him that this isn’t anything too serious and that he should focus more on his upcoming title defense match.

However, this was and IS a serious matter to Gaolang. So the next few days, Gaolang trained with just a little bit more intent than normal.

(Meanwhile, that boxer is getting absolutely slandered for the shit he said on the internet. Those netizens don’t like how he dissed their favorite power couple)

At last, the day of the match that would decide who keeps the title is here. You opt to stay home for this as it would be better for your piece of mind. But you were more worried about Gaolang. Although you know your husband well, actually that’s the problem. You know how exactly your husband is. Goalang isn’t a hard person to read. He’s rational, calm, loyal, and observant. One thing you notice about Gaolang is how defensive he can get.

People can shit talk him all they want, he could give zeros fucks at all. But insult Thailand, King Rama, or god forbid you, that person is gonna get fucking die.

It had been a couple of days since the conference. So you know the initial anger wore off. But still, you only hope Gaolang goes somewhat easy on him.

But since the controversy at the press conference caused such attention, this match was one of Gaolang’s most anticipated matches yet for any of his titles.

The event started as per usual with any boxing matches, the sponsors, introductions/entrances, anthems, etc. The challenger seems as confident as ever, having barely any nervousness evident on his face. Same goes with Gaolang, but with his classic stoic stare. The match was on its way once the referee explained the rules and the first bell rang.

However, you knew something was wrong right off the bat with him. It wasn't like Gaolang was fighting alright, he’s a man that never half ass anything. But you can tell he wasn’t giving his all at all. You didn’t know why he wasn’t trying at all. This wasn’t like his fight with Kaneda, he put effort into that one. But something was different about this match and you couldn’t tell what.

It seemed like Gaolong was struggling seemingly, the commentators were shocked and questioned that there would be a new heavyweight boxing champion on their hands. Was this the end of Gaolong’s reign as boxing champion?

No, you knew we wouldn’t lose to people like his opponent. He would rather die than give them a win.

The third round came along and around seemed hype about Gaolong’s opponent and he seemingly being the winner. However, Gaolong was not phased by this. In fact, he still kept his calm composed aura like he always does. That’s when you saw that Gaolong was up to something. You didn’t know yet but it was something.

The 3rd match began and that was when everything suddenly changed. It was like a flip of a switch as Gaolong just started boxing the hell out of his opponent. Gaolong had landed more hits than his opponent could dodge.

It was obvious to the crowd that this round was one-sided. Gaolong outmatched the hell of his opponent in every way he could. And with a finishing blow to the jaw, Gaolong had won by a knockout. The crowd went wild, the commentators losing their minds from the fast yet heavy KO.

Gaolong pulled the ultimate power move by letting his opponent think he had a sliver of hope in beating Gaolong. Only for Gaolong to straight up smash it to the group and pummel it until it was dust. He shattered the man’s hopes and dreams by letting him think he had a chance of getting a win only for Gaolong to show him that he is nowhere near his level.

That Gaolong was miles ahead of this cocky bastard and he made sure his opponent knew that. This loss will forever change his opponent for the rest of his career.

After the Gaolong’s win was finalized, all he wanted to do was go home back to Thailand and be with you. That’s it. He did his press conferences and interviews, but he didn’t care for them. All that mattered was you and he needed to get home to you as soon as possible.

As always, King Rama gives Gaolong a few days to a week off of work when Gaolong brings home a win. Every time Gaolong wins, it’s like an unofficial national holiday is happening. Thailand is bright and festive as ever everything he wins.

Now with Gaolong back home and off from work, he just spends his time with you. Maybe a little training but more so leisure and doing errands or chores with you. You were happy that Gaolong isn’t in a bad mood anymore but Gaolong now knows that people who weaponized you and your name against him just to stir the pot.

Well, he takes that pot and creates his own fucking food with it because no way in hell will he let someone do that to you. He made it known with that match. Because after that match, his opponents never mentioned your name ever again.

Thai God Guard Dog privileges.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Hope you enjoyed it! Please like or/and reblog it! Have a wonderful day!

#kengan ashura #kengan omega #x reader #gaolang wongsawat #kengan ashura headcanons #kengan ashura x reader #gender neutral y/n #gender neutral reader #x gn reader #x gn y/n

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kittsu-and-company · 1 month

Text

// HIYA!! Stuff is starting to go down, so here’s my ultimate big warning post for the arc: ECLIPSING ✨

THIS IS VERY IMPORTANT PLEASE READ, ESPECIALLY IF YOU’RE ACTIVELY FOLLOWING KITTSU’S STORY

All posts from this point onward to a currently undecided date, will be tagged as “Eclipsing arc,” as that is the name of this story!

It takes place over the course of at least one REAL TIME MONTH, and a lot of work has gone into this!! However, it just so happens that this arc is INCREDIBLY TRIGGERING to many things, so I will provide a list of Trigger Warnings that apply during the course of Eclipsing!! Some of these come very late into the arc, but it’s best to know what you’re getting into.

Manipulation

Emotional and Verbal Abuse

Self Loathing

Suicide Idealation

Pokémon Harm

Kidnapping

Religious Trauma

Family Trauma

Generational Trauma and Abuse

Torture.

Gore

Body Horror

Loss of Self

Arson

Death

Major Character Death

Memory Loss

I cannot stress enough how important it is to HEED THESE WARNINGS. The DOVE IS THERE DO NOT OPEN THE BAG OR YOU WILL FIND IT.

Anyway teehee Kittsu’s going to have fun (lying, I’m not lying this is going to be rough and a MAJOR tonal shift from what I usually do)

IF ANY OF MY POSTS HAVENT BEEN TAGGED PLEASE TELL ME. IF ANYONE IS TRIGGERED BY THESE TOPICS I AM ON MY HANDS AND KNEES BEGGING YOU TO BLOCK THE TAG. YOUR PERSONAL HEALTH AND SAFETY, WHETHER MENTAL OR PHYSICAL IS FAR MORE IMPORTANT TO ME THAN YOU EXPERIENCING MY WRITING. THANK YOU.

Reblogging this is highly appreciated!!

#OOC POST #Eclipsing Arc #kittsu #pokemon #pokemon rp #pokémon #rotomblr #rotumblr #pokéblog #pokémon irl #pokeblr #pokéblogging

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luwritesomething · 1 year

Note

hi!! i'm not sure if you'd be comfortable with this, but would you be able to do something with billy loomis x reader where the reader is possibly plus sized and has old sh scars? if you're not comfortable with the last part i understand.

Billy Loomis x Reader: draw stars around my scars

Warnings: Swearing (probably), self-harm topics, self-harm scars, reader did self-harm but now is better, bad reaction at first, PLEASE DO NOT READ IF THESE TOPICS ARE GOING TO TRIGGER YOU.

Tags: healing, reader can be read as plus size, reader has stretch marks, reader has self-harm scars, projecting heavily

Reader pronouns: Non stated.

Word count: 1122

Summary: Billy sees Reader's self harm scars for the first time, on accident.

Author’s note: hi, thank you for requesting! this was healing to write, to be honest. as someone who dealt with self-harm for very long years, all i can say is that it does get better, you have to believe for a better way out for yourself and be very focused on your goal on staying clean. no one deserves to hurt themselves, i promise. if any of you reading this is at a very bad moment, if you self-harm, please know that my inbox and dms are always open for you to rant, even if we've never ever talked before. you can send whatever you want, do it with anonimity if you want through my inbox. but please, know that you're not alone. please, you need to do your best to get help, and if you can't, you must believe in yourself.

i never got help, and i'm still here, and honestly, i thought i would have ended all of this more than two years ago. please, please, stay strong. find your passion, stick to it. i'm leaving this my chemical romance song, because they really got me through my worst times, and the lyric "I'm unashamed, I'm gonna show my scars. Give a cheer for all the broken. Listen here, because it's who we are." really resonated with me and made me believe there was more than hurt. i'm always here for you <3

criticism, comments and reblogs are always appreciated! requests are open, especially for scream! hit that anon button and tell me your ideas. in the scream fandom, i write for billy loomis, stu macher, randy meeks, tatum riley, sidney prescott, mickey altieri, kirby reid, chad meeks martin, mindy meeks martin, tara carpenter, anika kayoko and laura crane.

Having Billy over wasn’t weird, in fact, you had grown so used to him sleeping around and staying until very late hours in your bedroom, that not having him there sometimes got lonely and awkward. You didn’t know much about the situation between his parents other than they had been fighting a lot lately, but that was enough, and you didn’t need to know more to offer a place for him to stay.

That night, you had just come out of the shower with the warm towel around your body when you heard some sounds outside your window. They were the kind of sounds stones made against wood, the kind of sounds Billy made to let you know he was outside, but you still got closer to the window to check if it was him. You saw him outside, with his denim jacket closed around his torso and his hand holding little stones he had gathered around your garden, waiting for you. When he saw you, he waved slowly and gestured to the window, for you to open it.

Making him a sign to wait, you stepped away from the window and hurried to put some clothes on before opening the window for him to climb and enter your bedroom. You settled for a simple t-shirt and cotton shorts, leaving the towel on top of your bed so you could finally let him enter.

Once you opened the window, you stepped back knowing he would climb up without any difficulty — he had really grown to master the art of climbing through your window. Billy was fast, and no longer holding the stones since you had finally realized he was outside, he appeared by your window and jumped inside with ease.

“I’ve been outside for fifteen minutes.” He grunted as he cleaned his palms against his jeans, then pushed the rebel strands of his black hair away from his eyes.

“I was showering, I didn’t hear you.”

That made him look up, that little but still sweet smile of his appearing in his lips because God, did he like being with you — and it disappeared when his eyes landed on a particular place on your thighs, and you knew what he was looking at as soon as his eyes snapped back onto yours, something close to rage filling them up.

You had always been so careful hiding your scars. Lately, it was more because of not wanting to have difficult and awkward conversations and not because of being a constant in your life — the self-harming had stopped some time ago already, you had outgrown it, realizing that hurting yourself was something that you did not deserve. The scars were tricky to see, considering they were placed high on your thighs, and even if you wore regular shorts they were almost impossible to see, but these cotton shorts were shorter than usual.

“Billy—”

“Tell me you’re not doing any of that shit to yourself.” He demanded, and his voice sounded as cold as ice, as hard as steel. Billy wasn’t going easy on this, and you didn’t expect less out of him.

“It was a long time ago.” You said, your voice remaining calm. It was for a few seconds, but your eyes followed him in the path to your thighs, to the scars matching the stretch marks. They were part of you now. “I’m alright now.”

The breath that Billy let out was shaky, which surprised you. He got a step closer to you, then regretted and backed away slightly. You knew his eyes were now scanning your arms, and you knew that, if he looked hard enough, he could also see the ones there — that, or you were the only one who could see the invisible traces the razor had carved into your skin in your worst moments, which was also possible. Some sights were impossible to forget.

“You are okay?” Billy asked softly, with a reason to doubt you. You had been dating him for months, being friends for years, but you still hadn’t told him — you had let him figure it out, by accident.

You nodded. “I promise. I am. I’m clean, I’ve been clean for more than a year.”

Billy nodded slowly, almost like he wasn’t paying attention — but you knew he was. His steps were quick when he walked towards you and pulled you into a swift, loose hug, his chin resting on your shoulder. You closed your eyes and wrapped your arms tight around him. You wished you could go back and show that moment to your past self, as a promise that everything would work out, that you deserved better.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” He asked in a whisper, and if you didn’t know him better, you could have sworn his voice was strained with emotion. It was. “I could’ve… fuck. Don’t ever do that again, please.”

“I know, I know, it was just…” You shook your head and let yourself hug him a little bit tighter. “It was difficult, bad timing and all… I’m sorry.”

“No, I’m sorry I wasn’t there—”

“Billy, it’s not your fault.”

Billy pulled back slightly from you, looking into your eyes in earnest. “It’s not yours either.”

You smiled softly, and caressed his cheek with tenderness written all over your face. You hadn’t loved anyone more in your whole life. “I know.” You said, nodding your head, and it was true.

Billy watched you again, carefully, from head to toe, and only closed his eyes once he convinced himself that you were alright. It wasn’t something violent to see, it was calming — his worry for you, although at first rather rough and unmoving, healed the open wounds in you that always tried to lead you back into your old ways. The sickness of the addiction had been the worst, wanting to stay clean but slumping again, and again and again, but you were better now. You should have believed when you had heard that things would get better.

In silence, Billy pointed at your bed with his head, as his hand slid into yours firmly but softly. You only nodded, and put the towel away before you two slid into your covers. His hand wrapped around your hips, and it took you a little to realize that his fingers were deftly tracing your scars around, small tickles caressing your skin.

“I’m okay.” You muttered with a little smile on your lips, looking up to him.

Billy hummed lightly, and his lips came to your forehead, kissing you tenderly. You searched for his free hand and shifted around to find a comfortable position, snuggling against him, and feeling calm for the little, incoherent drawings his fingers made into your skin.

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softandsourcream · 7 months

Text

Stop, you’re losing me~ - two

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pairing: idol! yoongi x vet!f reader.

Words: 8,5k

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.

Episode warnings: complicated relationship with food, description of diseases, curse words, family drama, grief, loss of loved ones, damaged mental health, a LOT of struggling.

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 are more important, and there is much more content you can consume here. Take care please! ♡

enjoy!

—————————•。・゜　　　゜・。_______________

main masterlist

—————————•。・. two゜・。________________

“Y/N, honey~”

Okay, wait. Here. It was from here where you remembered.

You were at home, in the bed that was almost yours. You cry just for that, under your sheets. Lucky you could remain silent; it was almost an empty cry at that point. Automatically, you were crying because that’s what you have to do.

You were exhausted. And you remembered having a bad feeling about all that situation.

“Not ready~”

“It's been a week.” Your mom closed the door, gently sitting on your bed and touching your back with a care that made you cry more. You were already drowning. “Did you think about a therapist yet?”

No. For a lot of things.

The first and most important is that you were already starting to improve a week ago. You haven't felt this miserable in months now, almost three. You had started to get up, eat better, and cry less. You talked, you walked, you wanted to laugh, to go out, to go back to work. Everything was fine. You didn't need a therapist.

Oh well, you did. At least you thought about going to one when you were already feeling better. You had the energy to want to be well and for this not to happen. Because the second was that now you didn't have the energy to try to lift yourself up in every way possible.

It was too heavy. But why. Why else would you have relapsed?

“How can you all be so… fine about it.” It wasn't retaliation, because everyone in that house was like that at the time, but you seemed to be the only one still there, and that frustrated you so much that it made things worse.

“We’re not.” You know. “We just know how to-“

“Live with the pain.” You end the sentence, revealing your face slowly to your mother. She looked tired and worried, but she still looked at you with love.

She brushed your hair out of your face, sighing and wiping away your tears softly. It was the only look of pity that you didn’t hate. You allowed it because you didn't have the heart to tell her that it bothered you. She was a mother; she couldn't help it.

“Your brother always told me to take care of you once he died.” She nodded, starting to cry. You haven't seen her cry in a long time. “He assured me that even if I were his mother, I would be able to understand it sooner and miss him differently than you. It's questionable, but that’s what he thought.” She took a breath, as if she had suddenly forgotten to breathe. What was he thinking when he said something like that to a mother? Many times you thought that Kija had no brains to boast about.

"'Don't let her die like this too.' " She quoted, “ ‘If I see her, whatever I end up to, I'm gonna hit her until she comes back to life." I’ll never forget how he told me that.” You smile a little. He also told you that in person days before.

“I've been remembering that non-stop all these months, but I realized that in the end, Y/N, I can't help you if you don't. Not because I don't want to; it's because I'm human, and I don't do miracles, honey.” You nodded like that didn’t hurt you, just because it was true. “I came here to let you know that we love you, we understand, and that if maybe I can’t do anything more for you, if you have a plan, I will always be here for you to help. It’s up to you from here, but you’re not alone.”

He prepared you for his death; everybody knows, what you were doing.

Why now. You were starting to make friends with the feeling that you were fine. You were in that stage of grief that isn’t too tragic.

What might have made you remember the loss as a thing in your life?

Of fucking course.

It took three days for you to use your little desire to continue like this and do something about it. Seun opened his eyes when he saw you entering the kitchen at breakfast, watching your movements cautiously.

“Where’s everybody.”

He blinks, chewing the cereal that was left in his mouth.

“All of them are in school; the rest of them are working.”

“What are you doing here, then?”

“What do you mean?”

“You still live at your parent's house without working? At 28?” He smiles. You were making fun of yourself as you said your age instead of his. He continued eating, calmer. “Embarrassing.”

“Guilty.” He says. “I needed the time, though. Things have been complicated lately.”

You looked at each other, and you thanked him for the gesture with your gaze, taking out a cup to make yourself some tea. Seun worked in Seoul. You didn't see him much, but he had been traveling home very often to see how everyone was doing in general after what happened, to see Jae too, and to be with his family more. Paradoxically, he was a lawyer, a very good and serious one, exaggeratedly contrary to what you were seeing right now, who wore a horrible duck shirt that he had worn as pajamas for as long as you can remember and always left at home, eating colored cereals in the bowl of one of your younger brothers.

When you went, nothing really belonged to you; all your things were already in your respective houses, but there was always room for you. Seun, being the second oldest, had left his room empty a long time ago, but he wore clothes that he had left in case he went.

Being there was like going back in time; you had taken your mother's clothes because you didn't go out much, and the ones you had there were no longer to your taste. The noises in the morning, hearing your mother sing from the kitchen, and seeing how they still danced together from time to time

It was nice.

You ended up eating the remains of yesterday's dinner with him at the inn, in silence. It was difficult for you to eat while like this; it was as if something in your chest prevented you from feeling any kind of human need. You left half the plate, and Seun after seeing that, took a breath.

“Eat that, and I’ll give you a prize.”

"Uh~ surprise me.”

You settled into the chair, ready to really listen to whatever it was. Seun was… you know.

“Dad asked me to take care of the garden outside.”

You frowned deeply, and you laughed because he was serious. “Great. Like when you were seventeen. I woke up with you complaining about it.” He made a face. “How would that be a prize?”

“It’s kind of fun, though. How about you come with me, hm? You don't have to do anything; eat that and just get some sun.

You didn’t eat it. But you go out still.

You didn’t even get dressed; you were still in pajamas, sitting on the grass, watching your brother cut leaves to shape bushes. Your father still took great care of that place; you could see that it was even better than before. He quite enjoyed it. You used to sit and look at him this way when you were younger.

“Didn’t know this could be emotional for you. You’re unbelievable.”

You laughed, wiping away your tears. It was stupid; you felt better, honestly.

“Sorry.”

“Sure.” He reached out to place a flower in your hair. It was small, white, the ones that fell from the tree that was right in the middle of everything. You smiled.

“How are you?”

“Better” you were, at least right now.

"Why did you get up today? What’s the occasion, hm?"

He walked away, beginning to pick up the remains on the floor. He was done.

“I just don’t want to feel terrible today.”

“Exiting.” He says this, stretching his back. “You know how hard it’s to force yourself to do that, kid? I am very happy to see you today. It's so brave of you. I'm serious.” It gave you a chill; you weren't used to hearing him talk like that. You simply nodded. “Here.” He gave you another flower; you play with it in your hands. “I'm going in to make lunch; are you coming with me? I can call you when it’s ready.

"No, I'm going to stay here."

Because it was quiet, you heard birds, and it didn't feel like your bed. You were a little desperate when your mother told you to go outside because you would feel better. The last thing you wanted was to get up, but you also hated that she was right.

You didn't open your eyes until you heard a noise that scared you, and it was almost bizarre to see Yoongi, standing with a garbage bag in his hand, looking at you without knowing what to do, giving all meaning to your search for triggers.

You blink. Maybe you were hallucinating.

Your gardens were together. His family hasn’t moved in all these years. The only thing you knew was that it was their property now, not like yours, which still rented the place. It had more floors than it used to, and instead of having old red wood walls like it used to, it was white and pretty. Yoongi had made sure that his family lived well. Many years ago, the house had been in constant repair; inside, it must have looked different too, but its patios still had no division.

Because they were neighbors, best friends, and family, sometimes they got together right there; why separate it? If they completely trusted each other, they could see each other more that way.

Why was Yoongi still in Daegu.

You couldn't find enough reasons for him to still be there. He must have been very busy doing his things, far, far from there, far from you.

And it was overwhelming to see him in that garden where you once saw him. It was difficult for you to make yourself believe that this person brought back that ugly feeling of looking like a lost cat.

You touch your chest.

He bowed. You had to cover the sun with one hand to be able to look at him better, and respond in the same way.

“You’re still here.” You say it quietly.

Yoongi had those eyes, unkind ones.

That and a sleepy look. He had always had them. If you hadn't known him since forever, you were sure that you would never have spoken to him, and if he did, you wouldn’t feel like speaking to him or maintaining any type of contact with him just because of his look. It was heavy, as if he was constantly having the worst time of his life, but by nature. His father had the same eyes and the same attitude; they communicated nothing with their expressions. At least that was what you knew—what you had stuck with.

But he looked at you in a way you didn't understand right now. That was one thing you didn't understand about the new Yoongi. Before, you used to catch him better because, although he expressed nothing with his eyes, you were the only one who could know how; you could read him in a certain way, and now he was just strange.

Softer. Almost warm but intimidating.

“Hm.” He didn’t move. “What are you doing, Park?" It was a mocking question, almost as if your brother had asked it, but with less emotion and coming from him, of course.

“Sunbathe.” You look dumb trying to look at him. The sun wouldn't let you. “It’s healthy from time to time," he tilted his head. “You need a little bit too. You’re too pale.”

He smirks, looking away, almost like taking the courage to ask. “Can I sit there, then?”

You analyzed the space with your eyes narrowed because you were trying to identify the natural division that existed between his patio and yours. Right on the floor, a few meters from you, there was a fairly thin cement line that divided the two spaces. You pointed your finger at it, moving a little closer so he could see it.

“Don't cross that line, and you'll be fine.”

Yoongi also squinted his eyes, looking at what could barely be seen on the ground. It took him a few seconds, but he managed to spot it and neutralize his gaze, lowering the hand he was using to block the sun coming from above. He snorted before approaching in silence.

You had forgotten what he looked like, and you wanted to say that during the day, with the sun on his face and casual, white clothes, he looked even better. He glows, and you want to punch him in the face.

“You don't fit in here anymore.” You said it simply. He leaned on his hands, leaning his body back, understanding that you didn't mean it with bad intentions. It was simply an observation, but he still didn't quite understand it.

“What do you mean?”

“Here, in Daegu.” He loses his eyes. “You look... expensive.”

You made him laugh unintentionally. Genuinely, he even sat properly so he could look at you. You were facing each other, a considerable distance away, divided by a line of asphalt covered by grass, but there it was.

“What?” That question makes you feel stupid.

“I don’t know, just- you look like you belong to another place. Too handsome and well dressed to be here.

“Ah~ handsome, huh?”

“Yes, Yoongi, too handsome.” It was a fact; he wasn’t stupid. He knows he’s attractive. You played with the flower between your fingers, feeling your heart begin to pound. You didn't even know why; you were sure he knew it wasn't his intention. You heard him laugh again. “You know what I mean.”

At least, you hope so.

“Maybe I don’t belong here anymore.” He says. When you looked up, he was playing with the grass between his fingers. “I don't feel welcome, either.”

“What are you doing here, then.”

He looked at you from there, raised his eyes for a few seconds, then closed them again. “I want to spend time with my family before enlisting. Hyung it’s going on his honeymoon in a few days, and... well, I'm running out of time.”

You had forgotten that.

You had to fight a lot not to ask when he was leaving, because it was two years, and although you hadn't seen him ten years ago, in a way you also had him constantly in your face, always. Now you wouldn't see him at all.

It was none of your business; why would you ask?

“That’s good.”

“You’re still living in he-?”

“Y/N, honey, hello. I thought you had returned to Busan since I didn't see you leave the house. You look tired; are you okay?”

You jumped for that.

“Hello, Mrs. Min. I’m, thank you.”

You had always been surprised by how intimidating that woman seemed to you and how much she loved you. She seemed more loving right now; maybe her age had made her softer, but in her younger days, every time she spoke to you, it was terrible for you. She always spoke to you as if she were making fun of you, with the most beautiful voice you had ever heard and the most studied words there were for a cordial conversation. Over time, you learned that it was genuine happiness, like right now.

“Then why-“

“Mom.” Yoongi stops her, and you realize.

You looked bad, perhaps unstable enough if it was at first glance. You did look tired; you hadn't slept well in months; you were still in your pajamas; and your hair was tied up. You hoped it wouldn't matter to you; you wish it were that way.

You had a flower on your head, at least.

“It's okay.” You told him, more for him than for her, and he looked at you, remaining silent for a few seconds. When you heard the woman's voice again, you were still sharing a look, surprisingly.

“Sorry. I was about to go to your house. I know your mom's working, but Seun it’s at home, isn’t he?” You finally looked at her and nodded, smiling slightly at her.

“Yeah.” It was weird, almost like she was checking to make sure you weren't alone. “Do you want me to leave her a message, Mrs. Min?”

“Oh no! It’s okay. I'll go tonight, but also," you take a deep breath. “It was just to invite you all to dinner tomorrow. Jae will be leaving in a few days, and the rest of his time will be spent with friends, so we can have dinner as a family.”

“I- don’t know. I’ll ask them-“

“I'm telling you, honey.” And you wish she didn’t. “Would you like to come? I know… You've had a tough time, and in the whole year you've been here, I've only seen you twice. We want to help.”

There it is. And just because you wanted to get out of there as soon as possible, you smiled slightly and nodded. You only had those types of reactions at the beginning, when the topic was mentioned. You hate to have them again now. It was directly a discomfort that made you want to sink into the ground because it made you cry instantly and peel off your skin in one go. It was extremely uncomfortable.

“You don’t have to if you don’t want. Just think about it, okay?”

You said your goodbyes; she kissed your forehead and left, leaving you two alone again in an awkward silence. Yoongi didn't have pity in his eyes now, but it was as if he had been reminded of something he had done wrong.

“I can tell them you couldn’t make it.”

“No need to.” You tore up the grass by a handful. Why did everyone think you couldn't do anything for yourself? “I will go. I miss your father's cooking.”

“Okay.” Another silence. “I’m sorry about that. She doesn't have any bad intentions; she cares. She doesn't even treat me the way she treats you."

You smiled a little, and for some reason, your heart started to beat less hard. Just as fast, but it didn't make you want to die. And you didn't like that.

“No problems.” You say, getting up. "It looks like I do fit in here anyway.” You shook yourself for nothing exactly; it was just to feel less uncomfortable as he watched your movements, and you looked at him as you walked to the entrance of your house. He had a lopsided smile, soft eyes, and the flower Seun had given you between his fingers. “you still have twenty minutes left.”

He smiled at you, knowing that you were running away. Still, he didn't stop you.

That was one. The next one was a little less exciting.

—

You weren’t an events' person.

Not because you felt too bad to attend social things; in fact, you had discovered that it was very efficient at not making you think too much. Being alone was the worst thing you could do, but you didn't like going. It felt almost like a charity event since Kija died; at least that's how it felt. Seun told you it wasn't like that at all, but you feel like it.

Like a charity object.

They give you extra food, extra attention, extra compliments, and the comfiest chair. And it was nice sometimes, but today you didn’t want that to happen.

"So... you want the red one or the purple one?” You held them both up, showing them to your sister in the mirror.

“What do you think?”

“I think… I like the purple one.” She didn't seem to like your decision, so you had to convince her. “ Look, it has flowers and sparkles inside. “You’ll look cool, don’t you think?”

“But it doesn't match my outfit~” Hyunji whines, and you smile, pushing away the purple hair tie to comb her hair into a ponytail again. You'd end up convincing her anyway.

“What do you mean? You have purple here.” On her shirt. It was yellow on its own, but it had purple bubbles, and even though the basic style doesn’t work like that, it seemed to make sense to her child's brain.

“You’re right… Okay!” She says, playing with her doll again.

Living with children always makes you wish life was that easy sometimes.

Hyunji has a twin too. It was because your father was a twin of another; the gene was there. They were the youngest in the family, and you had been combing their hair all year. It was complicated because every time they did it, they were together, and they reminded you of the dynamic you had had with Kija your whole life.

At that point, it didn't hurt you so much anymore. The first few times, it had been complicated for you to see, but now the other twin was in the other room, and she had no one else to talk to other than her doll. Nara, your other sister, enters the room.

“You’ll go?” You were dressed.

"Uh-hu,” you responded, checking that everything was in order in the mirror.

“Yoongi will be there.��

"I know." You spoke with the purple garter between your teeth, so your voice came out funny. “Are you going?”

“Yeah, why?”

“Yoongi will be there.” She rolled her eyes as she turned to the bathroom and sat on the edge of the tub, leaning against the wall. You laughed softly.

“Not you too.”

Nara wasn't particularly a fan of his group, at least not at first. Since you hadn't been paying much attention, you didn't really know what the story was like, but apparently, she was starting to listen to them recently, and she genuinely didn't believe that this was the Yoongi she remembered. Now all her siblings were bothering her for refusing to do so.

“I didn’t know! Stop. It's almost overwhelming to see him leave the house sometimes. Last week, I met him twice! Here! In this town, Y/N! He looks like-“

“He doesn't belong in here.” You mumbled, and Nara nodded at you, wrinkling her nose.

“Nothing good ever happens here; this is too much for me.”

And for you too. But you didn’t say that out loud.

“Go on, kid. Call your sister.” Hyunji thanked you and ran off to find the other twin. You stretched your back.

“Can you tell me what happened between you two?” You scoff, sorting out the chaos you had made to find the purple ribbon in the box your mother had for them.

“Why do you want to know? It’s not that exciting.”

“There's no way.” She got comfortable, almost as if emphasizing her words. “Everybody in this family knows it's something happening to him and you, but nobody asked because they say you stopped crying about it like yesterday.” You laughed at the exaggeration. "Tell me."

“Well.” You took Ara, the other girl who had already been talking about how she wanted her hair, to sit her in the chair that you had placed on the sink counter, so you could see them better. Your mother always did it, and you didn't understand why. It was too unsafe. "The same thing as your sister?”

"No! I want them... like this.” She held up two fingers to you, and you nodded, wetting his hair and carefully untangling it. Ara liked to wear her hair long, so it took you longer, and you were already starting to get tired.

“We were friends, best friends, and things ended. That's all."

It took a second for the teen to sigh and start complaining about how little information you had given her. But you didn't like to talk about it. Not because you couldn't, but because it was something you already had behind you, very far behind. You didn't feel like it was any use to you to talk to anyone about it.

“Did you two kiss at least?"

“Yeah, we did."

Now, she looks excited.

“So you two date!”

“No. We didn’t.”

“Hm, date, but didn’t formalize anything?”

“No.”

“Friends with benefits?”

“Hm~ no.”

“Fuckbuddys?”

“Jesus Nara. How old are you? Twelve?”

She rolled her eyes, briefly looking at her cell phone”

"Haha. Why are you responding like Seun now? Don't do that; we have more than enough with one.” You responded to something the youngest was telling you, and you handed her a jar of cotton balls that she was asking for. “And I'm seventeen. “So you can tell me if you two were only fu-”

"Well, she, right here it's seven, Nara. So don’t say that ever again.” You saw her grimace in the mirror. “And we were friends. Best friends. Friends don’t- yeah.”

At least that’s what he told you. That you were friends.

“Friends don’t kiss either.”

And you told him that, too.

“I know.”

“Hm.” It seemed as if she didn't want to ask more, perhaps knowing that with the background she had, nothing could end well.

“I’m okay, though. I don't see the need to talk about it now. Yes, I suffered a lot because of it, but that's it; things are the way they are now.”

You had even realized that being around him didn't affect you like you thought. On the day of your wedding, you were sensitive; you knew it; you were predisposed to have a bad time. Now that you are at home with your family, what could go wrong?

“Do you plan to go dressed like that, then?”

“Hm?” You looked at yourself in the mirror in front of you, starting your sister's last ponytail. “What's wrong with it?”

“You’re kidding? You’re literally using mom's clothes.”

Yes, but because yours doesn’t fit in with you like they used to.

“I think it's pretty.” You defend yourself, but not really, finishing your job and taking the creature down from the inn. You heard her say thank you as Nara took your arm. "What-“

“Y/N, I won't allow you to go see your celebrity-famous ex dressed like that, without makeup and wearing ladies' shoes. You even did your hair! Come here.”

“He’s not-“

“Yes, wherever.”

She ended up dressing you in your clothes. Nice clothes of yours that you haven't worn in a while, but they made you feel pretty. Then she tried to do your makeup herself, but you knew how to do it yourself, so you ended up giving in. Your mother scolded them because they were late, and Nara left home with a smile on her face.

And you look beautiful. Yoongi thinks that when he saw you enter the house with one tween in your arms and a baby blue cardigan on you,

Of course, you were wearing baby blue.

“Do you think Seun will hit me in the face tonight if he gets drunk enough?” Yoongi asked his brother, receiving the beer he offered him. They could stop by to say hello later. The Parks had always been a lot of people; they had time to greet their parents first. Eun snorts before Jae can say anything.

“He doesn’t have to get drunk for that. You’re currently hurting the two people who matter most to him just by your existence. What do you think will happen?"

He agreed with a gesture, opening the bottle and taking a long drink. Yoongi didn't really like beer, but he would need it today.

“Well, I think,” Jae emphasized himself, shoving another beer into Yoongi's chest for him to hold. He was pulling out some to offer, he assumed. “that you can always talk to them to make them understand. Just like you did with the two of us.”

Make them understand. The problem was that neither of you seemed open to listening, which was fine, but oh well.

Yoongi had taken it upon himself all those days to fix as much as he could in that stretch of time. He had a different way of thinking and handling things, and he was too old to have unresolved issues. He didn't know if it was because he had time before he left or because Daegu and his house, his parents, and the streets where he walked for so long, dragging a useless dream, brought his emotions to the surface.

With you, it was different because he saw you, and it was difficult for him to remember all that he did wrong.

He had been thinking. Enough to have him overwhelmed in so few days, and while apologizing to Eun, for example, for having been so absent in her and her brother's lives, or to his parents, for... exactly the same thing, he saw you, and he knew that it wasn't just him who had to ask for forgiveness.

“They’re good at listening and apologizing for things they have done before. You're a lucky bastard to have to apologize to the most understanding people on earth.”

Eun had found it difficult to forgive him. She spent maybe a week talking to him, thinking about it, talking about it with Jae, and coming to the conclusion that, in fact, he had changed a lot and had given him an opportunity that he was sure he could fulfill. Yoongi was genuinely in another stage of his life, but having things to take care of was exhausting.

He realized more things that night at dinner as well. He didn't know the youngest members of the family, but they turned out to be quite shy compared to all of you, and talking to your family in general was quite easy. Not only that, but he didn't feel strange, out of place, or treated differently for who he was now; catching up with your parents and siblings was nice. Yoongi felt good”

“I would love to, Mr. Park, but I um, I return to Seoul tomorrow. I have commitments there before I leave for service.”

Nara had her birthday in a few days, and they were going to throw her a party. They were inviting Yoongi. He didn't know why his throat hurt from saying no lately. He was never a complacent person.

“Tomorrow? That soon? Will you enlist soon?”

It was impressive how those had been the first words Seun had spoken to Yoongi all night.

“No, it’s- not about that. I have work stuff. recording and practice.”

After that, he started answering questions about his life, which wasn't necessarily a bother. It was okay; he knew your family didn't have bad intentions either. He noticed it.

He also noticed that you barely touched your food.

“Can we talk?” You asked him when you were clearing up the dishes in the kitchen. ‘Sure’ and you took him outside because there was too much noise inside.

"So... you return to Seoul tomorrow."

You look disturbed, but he doesn’t hurry you.

“Hm.” He responded in affirmation. “My last concert is soon, and I have things to take care of before that.”

“Awesome.”

You look untouched by the situation. By everything. As if you were there by protocol. You hadn't laughed genuinely all night; you just smiled and responded kindly, briefly at that, knowing how much you liked to talk.

He didn't want to say that it had to affect you, but it was as if you had no reaction in your body. Quite the opposite of when he saw you at marriage, where you were with all your feelings on the surface. And he was worried. He has no right to be, though.

“I thought you missed my father’s food.” He tries, and you look confused at him.

“I did it.”

“You barely touch it.”

“Well, that’s none of your business.”

Oh, well.

You covered your face. Yoongi heard you sigh.

“Sorry.” You say.

He nodded, calm. At least trying.

“Didn’t mean to be disrespectful, either. It’s okay.”

Then he waited.

Enough. It was almost ten minutes of pure silence in which you thought about what you would say, and he smoked because you made him nervous and made him want to be doing anything but being aware that you were there.

"Okay," you say. Your words sounded loose. As if you were complaining about something. “Before seeing you that day, at the wedding," you start. “I was fine. I was feeling okay. I was- eating very well, I was starting to go out more, and I had this... silly feeling in my chest that maybe this situation wouldn't mean the end of my days, my life, and that I could do things by myself.”

Yoongi settled back in his place, attentive. It was just that he didn't understand, but he wanted to.

“I knew you would be there.”

“Yeah. Jae, he mentioned something to me.” After the weeding, of course. He would’ve liked to know that, too.

“Yes. So I mentally prepared myself for that, to see you, because it affects me to do so, and I thought I had handled it well that day. It didn't add up to me, because I spent weeks thinking about it and preparing myself for things that didn't happen and would have made everything much worse. I felt bad again, and I started to think a lot about... everything. About Kidja's death and what would happen to me without him in my life. It wasn't even about you. I had gone back to my beginning of grief, Yoongi. And I didn't understand why all the effort I had made to be well was gone so suddenly.”

He blinks. A lot of times.

“I’m- not understanding.“

“I have this theory.” Okay. “When you left, I had this same reaction. I don't really want to compare them because they are different in very big ways, but it reminded me of a lot of things, and seeing you there... I wanted to ask you not to leave. Not again, not like everyone has done it recently, so I can feel better.” His heart was a mess; this information was too much. “And it's stupid, because I don't know you, and I can't trust you, and the fact that you're here does me any good.”

“Y/N.” He insisted.

“I just want to put an end to this.” He could swear you were shaking. “Forever.”

Yoongi's head was going very fast; he felt somewhere else, something surreal. He had lived peacefully for a long time; his heart almost burst out when he heard you say a few more things, like you didn't blame him for anything, but you needed to know that he wouldn't be there anymore, and when you wished him a good life, he went a little crazy because you were leaving.

“Wait!” He was in a rush for some reason. “Just like that? May I… apologize for everything at least?”

He saw how many things went through your head, and he was desperate not to be able to know what. You took your distance before you talked.

“Yoongi, I don’t care.”

Now he was mad. You were acting like a child; resentment was speaking for you. He didn't blame you, at least not entirely, because he knew you were smarter than this. You had more valid, more accurate, and even stronger answers, but you were deciding to run away.

That wasn't what really bothered Yoongi, but the fact that you didn't tell him directly, like you would.

“If you want to live, then do it. But give me a voice too; I'm involved too.”

You snorted and crossed your arms to look at him with a smile on your face.

His blood boiled.

“You know what? Forget it. Have a good night.”

“Oh fantastic.” You move fast, getting closer to his garden but staying on the other side of the small line that divides it. Yoongi stopped, now not willing to listen to anything, nor to say anything constructive, really. “So you’re mad now?”

“It’s just—you're so stubborn! I’m trying to do something here!”

“And what do you want me to do, Yoongi?! Hug you and dry your fucking celebrity tears and tell you that the fact that you broke my heart like it wasn’t a big deal was okay? Oh, so now you want to be involved. You’re living tomorrow! And you want to fix things now? Shut up. You’re doing the exact same thing you did when you left.”

Your voice broke off as you swallowed the lump that had formed in your throat. Yoongi sighed, closing his eyes.

“We both did things wrong; I just wanted to talk about it before… that's all.”

“Everyone suddenly wants to talk about it.” It wasn't cold outside. Daegu wasn't a cold place, but you hugged yourself and cringed as if it were. “Everyone asks me what happened between us and why we stopped talking. Your father apologized to me in your place today too; he told me that whatever happened, he hoped we could fix it.”

Yes, I had told him that too, since it happened years ago, honestly.

“But I don't see any sense in it. Why talk about something that is already broken? Why do you insist? I just want to close this, okay? It was already dead; leave it like this.”

Yoongi took a moment, because it was true. But you look too real in front of him, and that makes him weak.

“So we can heal, can't we? That’s why you are doing this.” Your eyes look at him. “I’m sorry, Y/N. I had no choice.”

"Yes, you did.” You cut him off. “Do things right, or do things wrong. Those were your options. And you chose.”

Because you had always understood that he was leaving and that Yoongi had bigger things to do outside that place, and you were happy about that, but he didn't tell you until one day before he left forever.

He was completely blinded by having signed recently, by having an opportunity, by doing what he liked, and by the promises that were being made to him. Leaving everything behind, his parents, who did not believe in him, his "friends” who constantly told him that he would not make it, in that place that hurt him so much only excited him.

And unfortunately, you found yourself involved just by being part of that place.

“I know. And I’m really sorry.” You closed your eyes, and you denied it slightly. As if you didn't want to hear those words. “I understand that I made a mistake back then; I was young and dumb, and I- didn’t- I’m not the same person right now. I’m really sorry. I mean it.”

So... insignificant.

“Why.” And that was the question he didn’t want to hear. “So you can feel better about yourself, or because you're doing me a favor? Why now, Yoongi. If you hadn't seen me that day at the wedding, would you have traveled all the way here just to apologize before you left?”

No. The answer was no.

It wasn't something Yoongi thought about much. In all those years, he had convinced himself that he had done what he had done because sometimes in life, you have to be selfish to prioritize your well-being as a person. To put himself first over others because he had a dream, and fulfilling it meant sacrifices.

He hadn't done anything wrong, you know?

Now he apologized only because he saw you sick, and he felt guilty because he knew that it had affected you more than him. He was stupid because he blindly believed that the fact that he apologized would mean something less in your life, even if he didn't know how important you were to the whole thing itself. And you were sad and depressed, and you had big dark circles in your eyes, and you weren't eating well. You didn't really smile, you had a hard time getting up, and he hadn't seen you leave the house even once in all the time you had been there.

He felt responsible.

He did it because it left him and only him clean. He was being selfish.

He kept quiet. He wouldn't admit it out loud.

“I spent nine years of my life on pause waiting for you to care enough to come back to this damn city, so we could fix things. To talk about it. But that was nine years ago, and it’s a little too late right now.”

"I'm,” he stops, getting close to you, pressing his words in his throat so as not to have to raise his voice. “apologizing.”

“Well, you’re not forgiven.” He tense.

“For something I made when I was a teen? I don’t know, but you made some dumb shit back then too.

You kept quiet about that. It was true.

“You don’t seem to mind too much, though.”

“And what do you know about how I feel?”

Because maybe the fact that it didn't stop his life completely was something, but ignoring it didn't mean that it didn't hurt him either.

“Nothing.” A whisper. “I just- I don’t know, okay? But that stupid thing you did as a teen still hurts me and haunts me to this day, and you- I continued to believe that you would have the decency to come to my twin’s funeral. it’s- all that, everything, that’s just my fault.” You firmly acknowledged it. “But I would’ve to be so stupid to believe that you are still that person, because people change, and we were very young, and that’s fine, but Yoongi.” You touch his chest, or at least you had the intention because you didn't get to do it. You stopped and backed away a little. “The problem here is that you still don't care enough. You didn't even want to come here of your own free will... And that's fine, but don't come and- try to talk to me as if that were the case.

Your eyes soften, and so do Yoongi’s, because you do that when you want to cry.

When you cry, you’re completely harmless; that’s what he knows. If you cry out of anger, happiness, or even just empathy, any emotion automatically transforms into sadness. You leave yourself vulnerable; that's why you didn't allow it in arguments; it was losing instantly.

So you put yourself back together.

“That's fucked up, Min, and I don't need to forgive you to live in peace; I don’t want this; I don’t need your apologies; I don’t want to have any kind of contact with you because I don’t want you in my life anymore.”

“Then why are you still here?"

He can smell your perfume from how close you two are to each other now.

So he realizes.

It was difficult for him to have you so close. Because he felt the heat of your body, and your breathing was agitated. He remembered the touch from when he touched you at the wedding and squeezed his hand so as not to claim it again. His eyes traveled to your lips accidentally, twice trying to stop them without success, nor to his body as he moved forward, seeking to kiss you directly. He stops himself with all the strength he had and a little more, but you didn't move either.

You were both too dazed, feeling the tension in the air. As Yoongi looked at your lips again, this time closer to you, as you licked yours, trying to feel something. He breathed hard, like a bull, feeling almost dizzy. Yoongi had never wanted something so much in his life, and you weren't helping.

You looked down too, raising big eyes to the level of his before whispering, ever so slightly, to answer his question, and Yoongi couldn't believe you existed, looking like this.

He was fucked up.

“I still have a lot of appreciation for you, Yoongi.” You say. “And I respect you enough to do things right.” He closes his eyes when you distance yourself. There was nothing more to do. “I'm still here, but doing all this, doing things you don't want to do, lying to yourself, lying to me?... you're losing me.”

His eyes were wide open. You looked at him with sadness because you were crying.

“Leave it as it is, and keep the small part of me you still have with you. Because if you keep trying, I’m gone.”

And maybe that was what you both needed. A closure, a proper goodbye.

The problem was that neither of you had said goodbye, technically.

Big big brother, lovely and always available, Seun 💪🏻 - 1:32

‘How is it?’

‘Spooky?’

1:40

‘u’re allergic to dust, kid. You need a hand? 👋🏻👋🏻’

There were so many things you regretted in life.

One of them was to regain the closeness you had with Seun having so many brothers to choose from. Because he was sweet, yes. Maybe if you didn't have him there (knowing that you often live in fear of losing the people you love, it was very clear to you), you would miss him a lot, but he could be very annoying at times.

Don't judge yourself by the contact name by the way. He had set himself up that way, and every time you tried to change him, he found a way to make it longer.

You - 1:41

‘Sure, want you here in ten minutes.’

Big big brother, lovely and always available, Seun 💪🏻 - 1:43

‘Don't tempt meee’

‘You know I’m crazy, right?’

You stopped him immediately, telling him that you were fine, that everything looked fine, and that he shouldn't worry.

It was a two-hour trip. And it wasn't a lie that you were okay.

Moving to Busan was your idea; maybe two years before Kija relapsed and got sick, he wouldn't stop getting worse. He followed you with nothing in mind because, unlike you, he hadn’t been able to study anything. His health was weak, and that weakened his mind as well.

You wanted to get him out of that mentality, to meet people, to go out, and perhaps to look for a job that would help him understand that he could do things well. And you did it, or, well, he did. You didn't see much of the many people he had plans with; he worked in a café near your apartment that was still there; they had even remodeled it. He had a boyfriend, money; you two were together, you always laughed.

It was when you began to set up your clinic (because that was what you had gone to Busan for, aside) in the city that he began to cough very lightly, almost like a cold, and when you took him to see the place where you would start to build your first dream, he passed out at night when they were trying to clean the place. After that, he didn't stop coughing until that same cough took his breath away completely.

You thought he would get better, he looked weak but fine. He talked, he ate, and he didn't sleep as much as he does when he gets that sick. The only thing that told you that he was really struggling was the blood in his cough and that sometimes, when he got up to go to the bathroom, he would call you out of breath because just getting out of bed was too much for him. He was in serious condition, but you didn't think you would have him with you for so little time.

“Open that thing, Y/N. You have everything you need. You’re smart, you’re pretty, and your lungs work wonderfully. Sorry you don’t have any excuses.”

He spent the last days of his life there, in that apartment that you didn't want to return to, because now your whole family wasn't sleeping on the floor, nor was your mother's voice singing to him while everyone was sleeping, and he couldn't do it because the pain was killing him slowly, nor was your father offering you help to open that damn clinic.

Kija died two days before opening it, and he swore he would be there when you did. You believed him.

The door to his room was closed now. When you came into the apartment, it smelled musty, and there were many letters on the floor that were passed under the door while you were gone. His shoes were on the shoe rack at the entrance; your mother must have forgotten them when she cleaned, so you sat there when you arrived; you weren't ready.

It was when Seun spoke to you that you decided to enter the things you were missing.

And you clean the place. You dusted, packed your things, and called the clinic to inform that you were going to return to work that week. You were the boss anyway.

Maybe it was you deceiving yourself, but the more you looked for discomfort within yourself, you couldn't find it. You thought that facing that place would be more complicated, but there you were.

In Busan, and in Busan you didn't want to die.

“I trust him.” Kija could barely speak; he was intubated and medicated, sitting right where you were now, waiting for the medication to completely wear off.

You had stopped talking about it hours ago, that was when you understood that your confession had been hanging around in his head.

‘I have been thinking about Yoongi lately. I think I'll- need him when you’re gone.’

“Text him.” He told you.

You had already told him it was impossible. You had even told him possibilities of a schedule of imaginary activities that he would have at that moment.

“Kija, forget it.”

“I trust him.” He repeated. “He’ll come. He cares about you still, I know.”

You had believed him, and you had smiled slightly at the thought of a possibility.

Now you’re disappointed. It was dimly lit, it was starting to get cold, and your hands covered your face because, wrapped in, now, a gray room, you were giving Yoongi tears for the first time in years.

And Yoongi's tears were different from Kija's. They felt old, meaningless, but they weren’t automatic.

You sob, because maybe this way you could do this the last time you cry about it.

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one masterlist

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