#when i step out of this bus ill be alive again

[lost-tardis-room]

another good omens fic

i am tired and ill but hey look i wrote a fic today

summary - Aziraphale comes back down to earth and Crowley has Feelings about that

not very long, bit of angst, not explicit

Crowley was sitting on the roof of his apartment building, watching the London traffic crawl beneath him. A bottle of wine was placed precariously on the ledge beside him, as he dangled his feet off the edge. He’d got his flat back yes, but didn’t spend much time actually in it. He’d never really liked it anyways—too cold, too harsh. The exact opposite of the bookshop, the only place that had ever really felt like home—and now a place he couldn’t bring himself to go back to. The cold numbed his fingers and the wine numbed his head a little and he’d been doing this every evening for three months. More than six thousand years he’d been alive and yet these last three months had the been the longest and most painful of his existence. Things were going badly, and in any case, Heaven and Hell were planning the end of the world again, and Crowley wanted to enjoy the last of human alcohol while he could. 

There was a click of a door behind him and the tap of footsteps. Crowley wheeled around to cuss out whoever dared interrupt his moping, but then froze, staring. 

‘Um. Hello,’ said the recently appointed Archangel Aziraphale. 

Crowley was taken aback—there he was, just as Crowley had (secretly) hoped he would be—but at the same time very different from the silly, ridiculous, lovely angel he had always known. He looked exhausted, though Crowley doubted he looked much better (in a burst of melodrama he’d grown out his hair again)—bags under his eyes, a short beard that somehow made him look more intimidating and more dishevelled than usual, at the same time. He was wearing different clothes—they were evidently new, but not looked after anywhere near as well as that same outfit he’d been wearing for the last two hundred years—his shirt and jacket full of creases.

‘You,’ spat Crowley. Or, tried to spit. The word left him forcefully but with little of the anger he had intended it to have. He stood up, refusing be any further beneath Aziraphale than he already was.

‘Come back have you? Decided Heaven’s not that great after all? Missed all your nice human things? Going to ask for forgiveness?’ He sounded resigned more than anything else. He had wanted to hate Aziraphale, but could never quite bring himself to. 

‘Crowley I— I only wanted to help,  I thought I could— we could—‘

‘There is no we, anymore. As you so like to point out, I am a demon and not worth your time. Whatever brilliant plan you have for fixing Heaven’s great idea, I’m not helping. You and me barely survived it the first time, I’m not throwing myself under the bus because it’s taken you this long to realise that everything’s going to be just as dead now as they always planned.’ Crowley waved the bottle of wine in the general direction of upstairs.

‘That’s not why I came.’ Aziraphale looked deeply uncomfortable, fidgeting with his hands like he always did when he was stressed.

‘Oh yeah? Why is it then? You don’t even like me, you said it yourself—‘

‘I miss you, Crowley.’

Crowley opened his mouth to say something snarky and then closed it again. No way this could be happening. 

‘I wanted to say that I’m sor—'

Crowley threw the wine bottle at the ground, took three steps forward and slammed Aziraphale into the wall, one hand grabbing his collar and the other on his shoulder.

‘You don’t get to say that, you don’t get to apologise after everything, after everything you… said…’

Aziraphale reached up and pulled Crowley’s glasses off his face, setting them down on a nearby ledge. He could see perfectly fine in the dark of course, but to be suddenly met with the full force of those pale blue eyes of stars… Aziraphale was crying slightly. Crowley suddenly felt like his insides had been hollowed out. He gently loosened his grip on Aziraphale’s collar, painfully aware of just how close together they were.

‘I miss you, Crowley,’ Aziraphale repeated. Tenderly but a little awkwardly, he raised his hand and cupped Crowley’s face in it, running his thumb along his cheek. 

‘I want to— I want to spend my existence with you. Together. It’s okay if that’s… too much for you.’ Aziraphale’s voice was shaky, and Crowley could feel him trembling under his hands. Glancing away, he distantly wondered how everything led to this. 

Too late, Crowley realised he was already leaning in. 

‘Oh angel,’ he said in a low voice. He breathed in Aziraphale’s familiar scent, like summer air and dust with a hint of fancy cologne. Aziraphale tilted his head up as his lips met Crowley’s, a kinder, softer embrace by far than their last. Crowley slipped his hand from Aziraphale’s collar to down around his waist, pulling him in closer. The angel’s fingers moved around his head and into his hair, both of them terrified but realising more than ever that this was what they wanted. 

‘I won’t leave you on your own,’ said Aziraphale quietly. ‘I’m not going back, I’m staying here with you.’

Crowley grinned and kissed him on the forehead, his fingers under Aziraphale’s chin.

‘I missed you so much, angel,’ Crowley whispered, and kissed him again. And he knew, just then, that despite everything, despite everything that had gone wrong between them and all the talking and explaining and apologising they had to do, that they would be alright now. Crowley and Aziraphale, a group of the two of them—they had both Fallen, in a way, Fallen in love—and it didn’t matter that Heaven and Hell could never understand that. They were on their side. Together. 

#good omens fic #good omens 2 #ineffable husbands #aziracrow #crowley #aziraphale #good omens #i don't think it's quite as good as the other ones but i wanted to write a version of a post s2 reunion #didn't quite turn out as planned but i'll probably try again later #excuse the run on sentences lol

[the-sappho-of-lesbos]

Just a massive rant and mental health pity party

I know I’m mentally ill, and I know I’m pretty incapable of a lot of things, but because I am on the dsp and I don’t work and I don’t really DO anything, I think it’s easy for me to forget how mentally ill I am. Because my “routine” isn’t affected by my mental illness. Because my routine is just being at home. I can be depressed and miserable and not shower for a week or not look after myself and it doesn’t really affect me. I’m in my room anyway. I’m at home anyway. I just sleep when I need to.

But then when I try and step out and do things and get to the point where I’m integrating more external things into my routine I’m just smacked in the face with how inept I actually am. Though I know that probably just sounds like I’m extremely lazy and I probably am. I think the things that are going to stop me are my ocd or ptsd or body image issues. And they do. But it seems so often it’s just a combination of my depression and anxiety that prevent me from doing anything. I’m just genuinely so tired all the time. It gets to the point where thinking about catching the bus and then catching the train makes me want to sleep. Or I get so anxious over the idea of being outside for that long with no quick way home that I make myself exhausting. I think of the next day and the next day and the next day and the next day and I’m just so inhibited by fear and tiredness. I shut down. I just go to bed.

And I partly know why. I know I’m alive for the sole purpose that one, I’m apparently too chicken to make any of my attempts more then an overdose because I don’t want to traumatise anyone, and I feel as though death is something I’m not allowed access too because again it will traumatise those around me. So I just feel stuck here , waiting. And there are times where I TRY to better myself or do things that are fulfilling or enriching or might make life something I want for myself and not just other people. But they are either extremely superficial (like buying books) or I can do them once and then suddenly the thought of ever doing it again sends me into a spiral (like the course or going to a play). And I just can’t do it. I want to retreat back into my room, close my eyes and forget about everything. Because I’m weak and I’m a coward and I have no backbone. As soon as that prickling feeling hits me I close my eyes and go to sleep. Because sleep IS my death. It’s the death I’m allowed access to. But I’ve also been doing it for so long that genuinely my body has little energy. It’s so accustomed to sleeping that now even when I’m not stressed or upset I’m still tired.

It makes me fall into this weird pit of feeling less guilty in some areas and more in others. A part of me is like , ah see! You really do need the dsp. You really are very mentally ill. It’s okay. And then another part of me is like you need it for THIS???? What’s wrong with you? Why can’t you just go out and do things. If you don’t force yourself it’s never getting better. You will be stuck in your room forever. Rotting away as the world goes around. Ageing into nothingness. Finding nothing worthwhile in life. Having no dreams or aspirations or goals and achievements. Just rotting flesh. No friends, no connections, no job, nothing.

But I feel so unbelievably apathetic to try anymore. Because whenever I DO try it’s so short lived. I said I wanted to complete this course so I could have completed SOMETHING since high school. So I could look back on my birthday and think at least I did something. But even that’s fallen through. I want to just throw in the towel, and shut myself away from the world because I’m exhausted. I feel this deep seated tiredness that just never seems to go away. Even now I feel like I can hardly keep my eyes open and the only reason I’m pushing through is because I’m hoping the tingling and other somatic pains that are crushing me because of my emotions will go away.

It so often feels like life was a gift given that I had no choice in and have no way of returning. I feel so unbelievably stuck and pathetic. Like there is just no point in trying to get better or make plans or push myself because I always let myself down and can’t do it anyway.

#tw #trigger warning

[viastro]

in a span of three months | joshua hong

ミ★ synopsis: in which you teach joshua how to live.

ミ★ genre: strangers to lovers!au, terminally ill!reader, angst, fluff, some humor

ミ★ warnings: mentions of depression (not mentioned heavily), implied suicidal thoughts and intention (very brief), major character death

ミ★ word count: 20,351

ミ★ pairings: joshua hong x gender neutral reader

ミ★ notes: hi guys ! here’s the longest oneshot i’ve ever written so i’d like to apologize in advance BSJKGBDKB i just wanted to mention that this isn’t necessarily realistic before you go into it, and that the reader’s illness is not mentioned in this oneshot as i didn’t want to explicitly list one. i hope you guys enjoy this oneshot, it’s my best work and i put a lot of time and effort into it <3

ミ★ taglist: @coppertrashi @magicalhannie @brinnalaine @minluvly @wonunuu @suhfluffy @shuajeong @euphorencia @imjustuhhvibing​ @minghao-will-be-the-death-of-me @shuahaeee @jaeyuni @sunflowergyeomie

january 2, 2021 

The date flashes back at you from your lockscreen, and a breath escapes you as you turn off your phone. Your leg bounces against the floor in anxiousness as you wait for him to tell you the results from your recent test.

“I’m sorry, yn.” You slowly look up towards your doctor, seeing the grave expression on his face. Your grip on the chair tightens when he folds his hands together, turning towards you. 

“We estimate that you only have three more months to live. We will give you medication…” The rest of his words are tuned out as your gaze falls down to the table, the sound of your heartbeat is loud against your ears. You bite the inside of your cheek, listening to it thrum. 

I’m dying, yet I can feel my heartbeat right now. I can hear it. It’s beating.

I’m alive.

You stand up from your chair when Dr. Park does, and you give him as bright of a smile as you can muster when you bow towards him. He stares at you with pity in his eyes, and you hate it.

You hate it so much.

“Eat whatever you want, do things you’ve always wanted to do. Live your life, yn. I’ll see you at your next appointment.” Dr. Park tells you, and you nod your head. Giving him a small smile, you grab your bag and walk out of the room, tightly squeezing the strap as you exit the hospital.

Once outside, you suck in a deep breath of air, having felt as if you were suffocating in that building the longer you were in it. Rubbing the back of your neck, you look over towards the Han River, seeing the Banpo bridge shine brightly during the night. 

Letting out a sigh, you head in the direction of the bridge, deciding to walk home rather than take the bus like you usually do. Your heart remains heavy as you look around at your surroundings, wondering what you should do during your last few months of living. 

It’s strange.

Having a known deadline on your own life.

As you make it onto the bridge, you turn your head to look out along the Han River as you walk. The slight wind from the water breezes past you during the night, and you somehow find that it’s the only thing able to calm you down from the raging storm within you. Letting out a small smile, you notice how pretty Seoul is at night.

With the city lights shining brightly back at you, the busy streets roaring with life even during the relatively late hours. The bright stars glowing down from the sky, surrounding the beautiful moon that reflects its light across the Han River. 

“Ah, life is beautiful.” You mutter softly, turning your head and looking forward. You raise an eyebrow when you see a blonde head of hair standing in front of the railing along the bridge, just staring out at the water. Coming to a stop, you stare at the person a few feet from you, wondering what they’re doing. 

Your eyes trail down to see his hands gripping the railing tightly, and you tilt your head at the sight. Taking a few steps forward, the man seems to have not noticed your presence. He just looks out across the water with a blank stare, the whites of his knuckles becoming more prominent when he tightens his grip again. At this point, you decide to interrupt.

“Hi.” You greet cheerfully, and the guy blinks out of his dazed state from the sound of your voice. He slowly turns his head towards you, and you feel warmth flood your face immediately at how ethereal this man is.

His platinum hair falls softly over his forehead, wisps of it flying up slightly due to the light wind. His deerlike eyes stare into yours, and you find that they emphasize his beautiful features that much more. However, the exhaustion is evident in his gaze.

“Hey.” The stranger replies, voice soft and airy, somehow matching his appearance even though he seems tired. 

“What are you doing?” You ask, stepping forward so that you’re now right beside him. His eyes widen slightly, before they relax to their normal size. He shrugs his shoulders, glancing over at the road when a car drives by. “Just standing on the bridge.”

You give him a close-lipped smile, tilting your head as you press on, “Why?” 

“Just cause.” 

You nod your head, turning around so that you can rest your forearms onto the railing. Raising your hand up, you rest your chin on the palm of your hand, letting out a sigh of content as you lay eyes on the beautiful scenery once again. The ethereal man turns to glance at you, wondering what you could possibly want.

“Live your life.” You say in a soft tone, and he simply blinks at you.

“What?” 

You turn your head towards the pretty man, “Life is short when you think about it. It can suck a lot of the time, as well as be unfair, but sometimes…” 

Your voice trails off as you look up at the stars, realizing just how small you are in this great, big universe. “Sometimes it can be beautiful.” 

The stranger tilts his head up and stares at the sky along with you, a comfortable silence settling over the two of you as you do so.

“I wish I could see it like you do.” You look over at him, finding that he’s still staring up at the sky. His breath is visible due to the cold temperatures, and you watch as he lets out a sigh. He turns towards you, giving you a heartbreaking smile, “Life hasn’t been kind to me.” 

The two of you stare into each other's eyes for a moment, and you find that you’re more similar than you originally thought. You feel the exact same way about life, and you’ve asked life for years, why you? Why did it have to be you? 

You could never find the answer.

And so, you smile at the stranger, who tilts his head at you, wondering how one can be so bright and cheerful. You reach into your pocket and pull out your phone, handing it towards him after you unlock it. He raises an eyebrow as he reaches out and takes it, “You know I could totally just take this and run, right?” 

You nod your head, letting out a quiet giggle that rings in the blonde’s ears. He finds the sound to be rather pleasant. “I know, but I have a feeling you’re not that type of person.”

He purses his lips, nodding his head in agreement. Glancing down at the cellular device, he sees your wallpaper, a photo of you holding a cat with a big smile on your face. His eyes trail back up towards your face, as if to ask what you want him to do with your phone. 

You sigh with a teasing look on your face, and you take the phone from his grasp, opening up the contacts menu before holding it back out towards him. “Put your number in.” 

The blonde’s eyes widen slightly, before he tentatively types in his number, handing it back to you. You grasp the phone in your hand, a breath leaving your lips when you finally learn his name.

“Why do you want my number?” He asks, and you look up from your phone, giving your new friend a smile. 

“Since life hasn’t been kind to you, I wanted to be.” You answer simply, and he stares into your eyes with an indecipherable emotion to them at your answer. 

After a moment, he turns his body towards the railing of the bridge again, staring out at the city without saying anything else. You follow suit, resting your forearms onto the cool metal as you breathe in the fresh air. 

“My name is yn.” You tell him in a soft voice, not expecting a response. A few minutes pass when you finally hear his voice say,

“My name is Joshua.” 

Joshua taps the eraser of his pencil onto his notebook, blankly staring off at the projector screen while he tunes out everything the professor is saying. The only thing on his mind is you, the person he met last week on the bridge. 

You haven’t contacted him yet, and he’s beginning to wonder if you were just a figment of his imagination. That deep down, he wanted to stay, so his consciousness created a positive person to appear right before him, convincing him to live another day.

“Yn.” Joshua whispers underneath his breath, and he tilts his head to the side, having not realized how nice your name was until this very moment. He only pays attention to the lecture when his professor announces the homework, and he quickly jots down the page numbers to read. Throwing his bag over his shoulder, he steps out of the auditorium and begins to walk off campus. 

Some university students would usually go and meet up with their friends after class to go and eat, or they’d go and meet their significant other to study together. Then there’s Joshua, who does neither of those things. 

“Hey Josh.” The blonde nods his head at his boss in greeting, letting the door close behind him as he walks over into the back to change. 

Everyday Joshua just goes through the motions, doing what he has to do to survive, as dramatic as that sounds. Go to uni, work a six hour shift to pay for his tuition, head home and study, then barely sleep. He wakes up the next day and does it all over again. 

Joshua has gotten used to the feeling of being numb.

He tiredly ties the apron onto his waist before going and washing his hands. The call of his name makes him glance up from the floor as he wipes his hands on a paper towel, his boss appears at the doorway, holding the notepad and pen towards him.

Joshua sends him a tight smile, stepping forward and taking the pen and paper from his hand. He feels himself get a pat on the back as his manager walks past him, and he lets out a breath, before walking out into the restaurant. 

His eyes trail over to two women seated at a booth, waiting for their orders to be taken. Joshua doesn’t feel like going over there yet, as the words you told him that night ring in his head. 

Live your life. 

Joshua scoffs quietly, remembering the bright smile you showed him. He looks down at the notepad in his hand, wondering how you could find life to be so beautiful when he’s never seen it that way. His head snaps up when he hears his name be called, and he immediately walks over to the table, clicking open the pen.

“Hi. What can I get started for you guys today?” 

“One sikhye please!” The woman nods her head at you, and you smile as you hand her the correct amount of money. She hands you your order number, and you walk over to the other side of the food stand, waiting to be called.

Your hands make their way into your pockets, your hand wrapping around your phone. Tilting your head, you remember the pretty blonde you met on the bridge. You suck in a deep breath of the cool air, looking up towards the sky to catch the beginning of the sunset. A smile makes its way onto your face at the different pink and orange hues of the sky.

You fail to notice the blonde head of hair looking in your direction, wondering how you always manage to have a smile on your face. It’s only when you feel that tingly feeling of someone staring at you that you look back down, turning your head to find those deerlike eyes boring into yours.

Your mouth drops open in surprise, and you grin happily, raising your hand up and waving towards the ethereal man. 

“Hi Jos-” You’re cut off when your order number gets called, and you hold up a finger at the blonde to signal him to wait, before quickly grabbing your sikhye and walking over to him. 

“Hi Joshua.” You finally greet properly, taking a tiny sip of the sweet rice drink as he stares at you quietly. He clicks his tongue, tilting his head at you, “You never texted me.” 

Pursing your lips at the fact that he was waiting, you slowly hold out the drink in apology. Joshua glances down at it, before looking back at you with a raise to his eyebrow. 

“Don’t you want it?”

“Take my apology drink.”

“But you just ordered this-”

“I can buy another one.” 

The corner of Joshua’s lip quirks up slightly, before he takes the drink from your grasp and takes a sip. You let out a smile, before pointing back towards the drink stand, “I’ll go buy myself another drink and then we can hangout.” 

You’re about to turn around when you feel a hand grasp your wrist, stopping you from walking over. Your eyes slowly glance down, before they trail back up to see Joshua staring at you, straw in his mouth as he takes another sip of the sikhye. 

He lets go of your wrist and walks over to the stand himself, ordering the drink for you. You’re left flabbergasted as he hands the employee his card, and you watch as a blush rises to the woman’s face the longer she communicates with the pretty man. 

Once he’s handed his order number, he walks back towards you, seeing the shocked look on your face. He raises his hand up and waves it in front of your face, and you finally look back into his eyes. 

“Why do you look so shocked?” Joshua asks, slightly biting on the straw as he awaits your response. Your mouth opens and closes, before you just let out a huff, reaching out and hitting Joshua’s arm softly. He still feigns pain, his hand reaching up and rubbing the area.

“Ow.”

You giggle at his reaction, “Thank you for the drink, Joshua. Except now I feel like the apology drink I gave you doesn’t count since you bought me one.” 

Joshua shrugs, looking back over towards the drink stand when he hears your order number be called. He shoots you a glance over his shoulder, “Consider it a gift.”

It’s only when Joshua walks back and hands you the sikhye that you wonder how he’s been doing. You stare at him for a moment as he places the receipt into his wallet, and you find that the darkness under his eyes is still evident. You even think they might be a bit darker than when you first saw him as he looks back up at you. 

“Is something on my face?” Joshua asks when he notices the furrow to your brow. Your eyes widen slightly and you shake your head, giving him a reassuring grin. “I just thought you were handsome.” 

Joshua’s mouth drops open at your honesty, while you internally panic at the fact that that was your coverup for staring at him. You watch as a tinge of pink appears on his cheeks, and you honestly find the sight so endearing that you have to look away. 

“Let’s go to the arcade!” You exclaim, not wanting to acknowledge the fact that you called him handsome as you point towards the colorful arcade down the block. Joshua raises an eyebrow, running a hand through his hair when he nods his head. “Okay.”

The two of you go on your way to the arcade, walking in a relative silence, the sounds of you both taking sips of your sikhye filling the quiet. Joshua pushes open the door for you, and you smile, nodding your head at him. 

“What a gentleman.” The blonde lets out a scoff at the nickname, and you giggle at his reaction once he steps inside after you. You both walk over to the machine that gives you the game card, and you quickly shove your credit card into the slot before Joshua can, effectively paying for the game card the two of you will share.

Joshua rolls his eyes as he takes another sip of his drink, “You should’ve let me pay for it.” 

You don’t respond, instead heading over to the racing games without another word. Joshua pauses when you glance over your shoulder with a smile, “Consider it a gift.” 

He watches as you skip towards the game with the motorcycle, the sight of your bright smile still imprinted in his brain. He shakes his head as if it’ll clear his thoughts, before following after you. 

Joshua’s head falls back onto his pillows as he stares up at the ceiling of his dark room, the comforter resting over him. 

He’s always had trouble sleeping. It started out by him sleeping later and later as he grew older, until he could only fall asleep at around 4 or 5 in the morning. 

Joshua’s eyes trail over to the window beside him, and he lets out a quiet huff when he sees that the moon isn’t shining back at him. The stars are a bit dim, but they’re still evident in the dark sky. 

He looks back up towards the ceiling, and he closes his eyes when the thought of your smile comes into mind again. 

Joshua glances at you when you let out another giggle, and he finds himself wondering for the nth time how you can be so happy. You rest your head onto his shoulder for a second while you laugh, and he freezes slightly at the contact.

“Your face when I beat you at air hockey was so funny.” You manage to say through your laughing fit, reaching up to cover your mouth with your hand in an attempt to stop more giggles from pouring through. Joshua rolls his eyes playfully, remembering how happy you were when you won the arcade game. 

“Was it really that funny?” Joshua asks, and you nod your head with an incredulous look on your face. He lets out a sigh, placing his hands into his pockets as he looks up towards the night sky. The two of you fall into a comfortable silence, just enjoying the scenery as you calm down from the joys of the arcade. 

You turn your head to look at the blonde, “Did you have fun tonight?” 

The blonde doesn’t respond right away, instead letting his head fall so that he’s now staring at the sidewalk while the two of you walk to the bus stop. You nod, understanding that he probably didn’t enjoy the games as much as you did. 

“It’s okay if you didn’t. I know a few people who don’t actually like arcades-”

“I enjoyed it.” Joshua answers, turning to look at you with a close-lipped smile on his face. He watches as your eyes practically sparkle back at him from the sight. “Really?” 

Joshua nods his head, and you raise your hands up to your warm face, feeling accomplished. He looks away from you as the two of you continue to walk, finding you to be rather endearing. Once the two of you make it to the bus stop, you turn around to face the ethereal man, giving him a bright smile that makes his heart stutter within his chest. 

“I’m happy you had fun, Joshua. I’ll make sure to text you this time!” You say happily as the bus pulls up, and you raise your hand up to wave at him. 

Joshua keeps his hands in his pockets once you turn around and head onto the bus. He watches as you walk towards the window seat, immediately pulling open the window once you sit down. You give him another smile and a wave, and he tilts his head at you. 

It’s only when the bus pulls away from the curb that Joshua raises his hand up and waves back at you. 

Joshua’s eyes glance over to the window again, and he decides that you were brighter than all of the stars in the sky tonight. 

He manages to fall asleep earlier this time, around 2 am. 

Your smile was the last thing on his mind before he did so. 

Joshua sits at his desk, mindlessly doing his homework as the soft guitar instrumental plays in the background of his room. He taps the eraser against his bottom lip, before pressing the led onto the paper again.

The sound of his phone receiving a notification captures his attention, and he glances down at the cool metal, seeing an unfamiliar number. He slides up on his lockscreen and reads the message.

you: joshua ! it’s me yn >:D

The blonde lets out a breathless chuckle, lifting up his phone and sending a response back.

joshua: so you actually texted me this time

you: don’t make me feel bad ! D: i was busy after i met you that night 

i gave you my sikhye last week to make up for it !

The corner of Joshua’s lips quirks upwards at your use of emoticons, knowing that you most likely pouted as you typed the message.

joshua: it was very good

you: i know right

anyways, do you wanna hangout later today? i wanna go to the park to take pictures when the sun sets

joshua: so you’re using me as your professional photographer

you: of course :3

joshua: pft

you: see you at around 5 <3333

joshua: i’ll see you

The blonde sets down his phone, running a hand through his hair as he looks out his window. The blue skies stare back at him, and he watches as a few birds fly past. His eyes trail back over towards his laptop, and he sighs. 

“I’ll finish this assignment before I start to get ready.” 

It’s only a few hours later that Joshua’s walking towards the park, hands in his pockets as he listens to the sound of life around him. He looks around at his surroundings, about to enter the park entrance when he catches sight of a tteokbokki stand.

He watches as a couple hands the lady some money, before she prepares their bowls that will hold the yummy rice cake. He specifically eyes the mozzarella cheese she layers over it, and Joshua suddenly wonders when he became hungry.

“I wonder if yn would want some.” Joshua mutters to himself, tilting his head the longer he debates on whether or not to spend his money.

He fails to notice you standing not too far from him, smiling as you watch him practically waddle in place as he stares at the food stand. You walk up to the blonde, reaching out and resting your hands on both of his arms, peering over his shoulder.

“Are you hungry?” Joshua chokes on his saliva at your sudden appearance, causing you to double over in laughter and apologies as you try to help him breathe properly. He squints at you when he finally regains his composure, still clearing his throat as he pats his chest. 

“I’m literally so fucking sorry.” His eyes turn into slits at your apology, watching as your shoulders shake from the laughter you’re trying to hold back. Joshua gently pushes you with his hand, before turning around and walking into the park, tteokbokki now forgotten.

“Joshua! I’m sorry!” You laugh from behind, walking faster in order to catch up to him. Joshua doesn’t respond, but he doesn’t pick up his pace either, instead letting you hurry to his side. You smile at him, peeking your head in front of his face so that he can look at you. “Do you forgive me?”

“You thought me choking was funny.” 

“True.” You admit, and Joshua scoffs at your answer, rolling his eyes teasingly as he nudges you with his shoulder again. You grin happily, nudging him back as you pull out your phone from your pocket. 

“The sun is setting which means we probably only have 20 minutes to take the best sunset photos known to man. You’re my designated photographer today, remember?” Joshua begrudgingly takes the phone from your grasp, and you walk onto the relatively empty field of grass, raising your arms up towards the sky. The blonde just lets out a sigh loud enough for you to hear as he goes onto the camera app, 

“Ah, what a tragic life I live.” 

“You should be happy that you’re photographing such beauty!” You shout, and the corner of Joshua’s lip quirks up when he sees the furrow to your brow. He lifts up the phone so that you’re in frame, but peeks his head out from behind it.

“Do you want me to just take a billion photos?” He asks, and you give him a thumbs up. The blonde nods his head, going back into photographer mode as he starts to take photos of you. 

You’re quite surprised at how seriously Joshua’s taking this photography gig, with the way he’s angling the camera and the straight face he has on. You find yourself giggling at the sight, causing the blonde to pause when he sees your smile through the camera. 

Your eyes widen slightly when you see him stiffen, realizing your laughter might’ve accidentally thrown him off his game, “Was my giggling bad? Sorry!”

Joshua shakes his head immediately at your apology, lowering your phone from his face so that you can see him properly. It’s as if your heart stops when you do look at him.

His platinum hair is flowing a bit with the wind, similar to when you first met him that night on the bridge. His deerlike eyes are boring into yours, and you find a tinge of pink dusting across his cheeks as he runs a hand through his hair. 

Joshua hides his face behind your phone again, wanting to capture your reaction when he says, 

“Don’t apologize. Your smile is pretty.”

Your mouth drops open at the compliment, having not received one from the past couple weeks of knowing the man. Joshua captures the moment on your phone, a breath leaving his lips when he sees a smile make its way onto your face. 

“Thank you.” You mutter, radiance to your features as you start posing again underneath the sky painted with various shades of pink and purple. He nods his head as he continues to capture more photos of you, silently wondering how he finds you to be prettier than the beautiful sunset behind you.

“No problem.”

You stare into those lovely brown eyes with a determined look on your face, making the blonde raise an eyebrow at you in confusion. He reaches his hand out towards you, and you stare at it, wondering what he’s going to do. 

“Ow!”

It only results in you rubbing your forehead with a glare, while Joshua just goes back to drinking his coffee—now happy about flicking your forehead. You slam your fists gently onto the wooden table, and the ethereal man just stares at you in silence.

“You know what we should do?” You ask, and Joshua stays quiet, knowing you’re going to answer the question anyways. A grin makes its way onto your face as you give him jazz hands, “Go to the store so that I can buy groceries because my fridge is low.” 

Joshua lets out a sigh, giving you an unimpressed look as he turns to face out the window. He’s not surprised, really. The last time the two of you hung out was just Joshua accompanying you to the library so that you wouldn’t have to return your books alone.

“Come on! I’ll buy you any snacks you want while we’re there. Besides, grocery shopping is fun.” Joshua continues to sip from his drink, somehow not surprised that you find restocking your food supply to be fun either.

“Well, more fun when you’re with someone at least.” You correct, and the blonde finally peeks at you, seeing the knowing smile on your face. He glances out the window, shrugging his shoulders in an attempt to appear indifferent. “As long as you buy me the snacks I want.”

“Of course, Joshua. What kind of person would I be if I didn’t buy you your favorite snacks?”

“No, not those snacks. Those are expensive.” Joshua just stares at you in silence, bag of chips in hand as he watches you reach out towards the off-brand version. You pick up the bag, holding it out towards the pretty man and waving it for good measure. “These are cheaper and taste the same. Trust me, Joshua.”

“You told me that you’d buy the snacks I wanted if I went grocery shopping with you.” Joshua mutters with a pout to his lips, and you simply flash him an apologetic smile as you toss the bag into the cart while taking the original one from his grasp and returning it. The blonde scoffs, nudging you with his shoulder, and you giggle as you walk off towards the next aisle. “Yes, but we’re on a budget here.” 

Joshua pushes the cart after you, listening contently as you explain what you’re missing at your apartment and what food you should make for dinner. His eyes follow your movements as you gesture with your hands, now explaining a story of how you almost set your toy kitchen on fire when you were younger. 

Your eyes twinkle underneath the fluorescent light, and your lips are turned upwards in a warm smile as you look back on the memory. Your voice is soft but cheerful as you tell him about the memory while throwing in some items into the cart, and Joshua finds that there’s a lump in his throat as he watches you giggle.

You turn your head to look at the blonde, just to find his pretty eyes staring at you with an indecipherable emotion in them. Feeling warmth flood your face from his stare, you look down at the cart to place the box of tea in your hands. 

“What’s on your mind?” You ask, proceeding to walk out of the aisle to go to the bread section. Joshua stays quiet for a moment, staring at your fingers peeking out of your sweater paws as your arms swing back and forth.

When you don’t hear a response, you move to glance back at him, only to pause when he pushes the cart forward so that he’s now walking right beside you. Joshua raises his hand up and fondly pats your head, making your eyes widen at the sweet gesture. 

You slowly turn towards him, just to find the smallest hint of a smile on his face. Warmth floods your face at the lovely sight, and you can’t help but feel slightly disappointed when Joshua’s hand falls back onto the cart handle. 

The two of you gaze into each other's eyes in silence for a moment, and you begin to wonder when that hint of a sparkle began to show in Joshua’s eyes over the last month of the two of you hanging out. He turns away when he feels the tips of his ears turn red, looking over towards the bread aisle. You watch as he takes a step forward with the cart as he suddenly says,

“Let’s get this bread.” 

You let out a loud laugh at the old meme, startled at the fact that Joshua even said that as you follow after him. 

As Joshua watches you choose the bread you want while also picking out some cookies for the two of you to share on the way to your apartment, he finds himself feeling content for the first time in a long time. 

“Hope you enjoy it.” Joshua says as he places the last dish onto the table, giving the customers a tight smile before walking back over to the register. He rests his head into his hands, grimacing at the oncoming migraine he knows will come later in the hour. 

He peeks through his fingers to look at the clock, seeing that he’s still on shift for another three hours. The blonde lets out a quiet groan, wondering if his boss has any aspirin he could possibly take.

The sound of the bells chiming from the door opening is what has him look up, trying to mask the pain from his headache as he stares towards the entrance. His eyes widen slightly when he sees you standing there, a bright smile on your face as you wave at the pretty man. 

“Yn?”

You quickly walk up towards Joshua, feeling happy that you were able to come visit him during his shift. You slam your hand on the counter that keeps the two of you separated, while raising ₩20,000 towards his face with your other. Joshua simply raises an eyebrow at you, wondering why you look so determined.

“I’ll have your favorite dish from here and for you to eat it with me during your break.” 

“Are you trying to buy me, yn? My favorite dish is only 7,000 won-” 

“Now don’t make me sound like a bad person! You should be grateful I’m buying us food—your favorite nonetheless.” You whine, and Joshua just chuckles at the pout to your lips. You squint when he doesn’t take the money from you, only for your mouth to drop open in protest when you see him pull out his card.

“Joshua!”

“I’ll pay for the meal. It’ll keep me safe since you wanted to buy me-”

“I did not!” You laugh, watching as the receipt comes out from the printer after he pays for the meal. He places his card back into his wallet, before motioning towards a booth near the wall. “Go sit down, I’ll let my boss know I’m going on my 30.” 

You nod your head, walking over to the booth and sitting down on the rather worn out cushions. While you wait for Joshua, you rest your head onto your arms over the table, closing your eyes. A sad smile forms on your face when you hear your heartbeat in your ears, a reminder that your time left here is dwindling. 

It’s been a month and a few days since you found out about your ill-fate on that cold, January night. 

However, you haven’t found yourself thinking about your inevitable doom as often as you thought you would. Instead, you’ve been spending your days hanging out with Joshua, and using your nights to plan out the next place the two of you should go to.

You don’t know when you decided to spend your last three months trying to help Joshua see the beauty in life.

But as you look up from the table and see his pretty eyes starting to sparkle at you when he places the food down onto the surface, the corners of his lips quirking upwards as he explains how his boss was teasing him,

You realize that you wouldn’t want to spend them any other way.

The two of you walk down the street side by side, taking sips of the sikhye you bought for the both of you to make up for the meal. The comfortable silence is settled over you guys like a blanket, not needing any words to be able to spend time with each other contently.

You take a peek at the beautiful man, suddenly noticing that the dark eye bags that once adorned his features have diminished significantly. The roots of his platinum hair are beginning to grow, but it seems like he doesn’t really care. 

You wouldn’t care if you looked like Joshua, either.

He’s too pretty.

“Who?” 

God fucking damn it.

You immediately look away from Joshua’s curious gaze, warmth flooding your face at the fact that you just blatantly announced that he was too pretty when the two of you were walking in a relatively comfortable silence. 

“Cha Eunwoo from Astro.” You lie, and the blonde nods his head in agreement after a moment, turning back to face the front. Silence falls over the two of you again, and you’re incredibly grateful that he didn’t ask more questions.

But you also find yourself a bit disappointed at the lack of them.

When the two of you end up at the front of your apartment building, you both turn towards each other to say your goodbyes. However, as the streetlight lays over Joshua’s blonde hair, almost mimicking the appearance of a halo, you realize you don’t really want the night to end.

“Thank you for visiting me at work, yn. Make sure to text me when you get into your apartment.” Joshua tells you with his soft voice. You hum in response, shifting from one foot to another. “Thank you for the food. I’ll try to visit more.” 

Joshua nods his head, raising his hand up to send you a tentative wave. “I’ll see you later, yn.” 

You smile softly, waving back at him as he turns around and starts to walk away. An internal battle goes on inside you as you try to figure out what you want to do, watching as his figure gets smaller as the distance grows between you.

Squeezing your eyes shut, you shout out:

“Do you wanna come in and watch a movie with me?!”

Joshua pauses at the question, like, physically and mentally freezes. His eyes are wide as he stares at the pavement, and he wonders why his heart is beating so fast in his chest at the question. There’s a small breeze that passes the both of you, and you bite your bottom lip.

The silence is deafening.

Joshua slowly turns to glance at you, and you feel your heart sink slightly at the shocked expression on his face. You’ve come to realize as the two of you look at each other, that you asking him to come in was a mistake. So you open your mouth to tell him he doesn’t have to,

“Okay.” Your mouth remains open at his answer, believing that you must’ve just imagined him agreeing to your suggestion. 

And so you respond, “Heh?”

Joshua huffs, walking over so that the two of you are only a foot apart. He squints at you, and you furrow your eyebrows in response to the expression on his face.

“Yes. I’ll come in and watch a movie with you.” 

“Oh.” 

The two of you stare at each other for another moment. With you just gauging what he said while Joshua stands in silence, amusement and shyness written across his features. 

You suddenly let out a gasp, the fact that he said yes now sinking in as you step over towards the entrance and slide your card so that the doors will open. Joshua chuckles at the obvious embarrassment on your face when the doors finally open and you gesture towards the inside of the lobby.

“Let’s go up.” You say with a tight smile, and the blonde nods his head, following after you as the doors shut behind the both of you. 

The way to your apartment is rather quiet, except for the quiet chuckles Joshua lets out whenever he glances at you and you having to elbow him in the stomach. 

When you finally unlock your door and the two of you step inside, you suddenly realize all of your medication that you have to hide. You turn to face Joshua as he slips off his shoes and steps into the pair of slippers you have for guests, and his beautiful eyes land on you, signaling that you have his attention.

“You can go and sit on the couch, I just need to tidy up a bit.” The blonde nods his head, watching as you scurry off to your bedroom, shutting the door behind you. He lets out a breath, before walking over towards the couch, gaze travelling around your cozy apartment. 

His eyes latch onto a framed photo on the table next to the couch, and he carefully picks it up, feeling warmth flood his chest at the sight. 

You’re standing underneath a fully bloomed cherry blossom tree, a bright smile on your face as you look at the camera. Your arms are lifted up towards the sky in excitement, a habit of yours that Joshua has noticed in the month that he’s known you. 

He gently places the photo back down onto the table when he hears your bedroom door open, and he looks over to see you now dressed in a set of strawberry pajamas. The sight is so precious to behold that Joshua lets out a soft smile, and your eyes widen when you see it.

He smiled. This is the first time you’ve seen him smile.

“Are my pajamas funny to you?” You squeak out in an attempt to not make him uncomfortable by mentioning his smile. Holding back from slapping yourself at your strange tone, you just watch as Joshua nods his head, an emotion akin to warmth flooding his beautiful eyes as he stares at you. 

“I expected nothing less from you, yn.” Joshua responds softly, and you find no sign of teasing in his voice. You cough into your shoulder, breaking the eye contact as soon as you feel heat rush up to your face. Reaching out towards the remote, you turn on the TV and point towards the couch. 

“Go sit and choose a movie, I’ll go and get us some snacks.” You tell the blonde, and he plops down onto the worn out sofa as you walk into your kitchen. His eyes trail after you for a moment, before he turns back to the TV and starts scrolling through your Netflix.

You come back a few minutes later with snacks in hand, just to smile at the movie he chose. Joshua glances towards you, quietly thanking you for the snacks as you settle down beside him, making sure to place a bit of distance between the two of you. 

“Have you watched this?” Joshua asks as he takes a bite of popcorn, and you nod your head, turning to him with a grin. “A Silent Voice is one of my favorite movies.” 

Joshua’s mouth drops open into an ‘o’ shape, before suggesting if you want to choose another movie. You shake your head, instead grabbing the remote from the table and pressing play. 

“You chose it, so we’re going to watch it.” You mumble, leaning back into the couch and taking a sip of your water. The blonde’s eyes linger on you as the opening of the movie plays, wondering how one person could be so kind, so bright. 

You feel Joshua’s eyes on you. You know that he’s staring at you. 

But you know that your heart would just go feral and your face would turn warm if you look back. So you blindly reach out towards him with your hand, turning his head to face the TV instead. You retract your hand afterwards, a small smile on your face as you notice Joshua shaking his head in disbelief at your actions.

“Watch the movie.” You mutter, warmth flooding your cheeks as you try to appear indifferent. The blonde takes another bite of popcorn before turning back towards the TV, trying to suppress his chuckles.

The two of you watch the movie in silence, except to offer each other snacks or to shit on one of the characters you each dislike. 

It’s nice. Joshua thinks to himself at one point, turning to glance at you when you giggle at a specific scene. He looks back at the TV, biting back a small smile from forming on his face, This is nice.

When the movie hits the 45 minute mark, Joshua finds that you haven’t been taking any sips of your water or stealing some pieces of his popcorn. He’s about to comment on one of the characters when he feels a weight slump onto his shoulder. 

“Yn?” Joshua asks quietly, turning his head to look down at you. Your eyes are closed, mouth slightly open as you release puffs of air. He lets out a smile when he realizes you fell asleep, reaching out and patting your head softly. 

“Silly.” He mumbles, before taking a glance at the clock and sees that it’s already midnight. The blonde carefully grabs the remote that sits on the table and turns off the TV, before moving the snacks and drinks off the couch to the best of his ability as he tries not to wake you up.

Once he’s done with that, he carefully settles you down onto the cushions so that you’re laying comfortably. He takes the throw blanket from the back of the couch and lays it over your body. Letting out a breath once he’s finished, he grins at the angelic expression on your face as you sleep peacefully.

“I’ll see you later, yn.” Joshua says softly, before turning around to walk towards your door. 

Except for the hand that grasps onto his own, preventing him from taking another step. 

He slowly turns to glance down at you, seeing you with your eyes still closed, hand holding onto his. Joshua makes a move to carefully release the grip you have on him, but freezes when you say in a soft voice,

“Stay.” 

Joshua stares at you, unsure of what to do as you continue to hold his hand. 

“You don’t want me to stay, yn.” Joshua mutters, an indecipherable feeling flooding him when your grip on his hand tightens a bit. 

“Stay with me, Joshua.” 

And so he does. 

He scoots you over on the couch, wondering whether or not he’s gonna fall to his inevitable doom during the middle of the night as the two of you can hardly fit on the small surface. Carefully, he lays onto his back, staring up at your ceiling as silence fills the room, the fuzzy throw blanket covering you both. 

You turn over so that you’re facing him, and your hand falls onto his stomach. The blonde just listens to the sound of your steady breathing, wondering how you fell asleep so fast as he feels himself beginning to become drowsy. After a few minutes, his eyes softly fall shut, breathing now matching your own.

Joshua finds that sleep comes easier tonight.

You’re seated on the bench, waiting for Joshua to arrive as you stare at the date on your phone.

february 17, 2021

Letting out a breath at the harsh reality check, you tap your shoe against the pavement, turning off your phone to look out towards the road.

You have a month and a half left. 

“When did time move so fast? Whenever I was in the hospital it moved so slow.” You mutter, a sad smile gracing your features as you look around at all the people walking past you. Turning your head, you suddenly lock eyes with those  deerlike eyes you’ve come to know. 

Your once sad smile turns into one of pure joy as you stand up from the bench, waving your hands excitedly as Joshua walks over to you. The blonde reaches out and pats your head in greeting once he’s a foot away, and you chuckle in response, ignoring the fact that your heart rate is a bit faster now.

“How were classes?” You ask as the two of you begin walking towards the cat café. Joshua mentioned in passing a week ago that he wanted to go to a cat café, so you set up a reservation for the two of you. 

The blonde purses his lips, realizing that he’s been enjoying attending classes a bit more as of recently. You gaze at him expectantly, grinning when Joshua simply just nods his head and looks back at you. “It was alright. I was excited thinking about the cat café though, so I’ll probably have to add some stuff to my notes later.” 

“I expected you to be more of a dog person, if I’m being honest.” You state, and Joshua looks back towards the front, letting out a small grin. 

“I am.” 

“Then what are we doing going to a cat café that I made reservations for a week prior?” 

The blonde shrugs his shoulders, turning to you with mirth filling his pretty eyes. He motions towards your phone, and you raise an eyebrow, raising it up so that the two of you can see it as it unlocks. Your mouth drops open when you see your homescreen, the photo of you and your old friend’s cat that was taken a couple years back, and all the pieces suddenly come together. 

“Joshua! Did you only say you wanted to go to a cat café because you knew I liked cats? That ruins the whole purpose of this-” 

Joshua cuts you off by simply holding open the door to the cat café, and you blink in a state of stunned silence, having not realized that the two of you have already arrived. He chuckles, “I’m a dog person, but that doesn’t mean I don’t like cats. I’ve always wanted to go to one, so hurry up and go in.”

Pursing your lips, you walk into the café, but not without poking the middle of Joshua’s stomach as you do so, letting out a satisfied grin at the sound of his quiet squeak. Your mouth immediately drops open when a black and white cat snuggles up to your legs, and you kneel down, petting the soft fur as you let out inaudible excited sounds. 

Joshua lets the door close behind him, the sound of the bells attached to the door letting out a little ring throughout the café. He glances down, seeing you happily petting the cats before the two of you have even ordered. 

“Yn, I’ll go order for us.” Joshua tells you, and you simply nod your head without a verbal response, still softly squealing as more cats walk up to you. The blonde lets out a breath, shaking his head with the hint of a smile on his face as he heads over to the register to place your guys’ order.

You regretfully stand up from the floor, hoping the cats will follow you as you walk over to the table you reserved. You sit down in the booth, watching as Joshua converses with the employee as he orders the food and drinks. 

Resting your chin on the palm of your hand, you smile fondly when Joshua glances around to find you. Your heart warms when his eyes finally land on you, a grin forming on his face as he walks over to you. 

“There was a cat laying on the table behind the employee at the register. He was so cute, I hope he comes over to our table.” Joshua tells you as soon as he sits down into the seat across from you, placing the receipt onto the wooden surface. You open your mouth to respond, only to let out a quiet squeal when a cat jumps onto the empty space beside you. 

“Hi pretty!” You greet, sparkles in your eyes as the cat nuzzles against your hand, asking for more pets. Joshua smiles at the sight, unlocking his phone and taking a photo of you happily petting the tabby cat. The sound of the camera shutter catches your attention, and you turn to glance at the source, seeing Joshua smiling fondly down at his phone screen. 

“Did you take a photo of me playing with the beautiful cat?” You ask with a teasing grin on your face, not expecting an answer from the pretty man. You stroke the cat’s head fondly, only for your hand to stutter when Joshua says, 

“You looked cute.” 

A brief moment of silence passes between you, with Joshua staring at his phone, and you listening to your heart beat against your ears as warmth floods your face. Your brain tries to formulate a response, but it can only form inaudible screeching noises. So instead, you turn your head to glance at the blonde, only for your eyes to widen when you see a fluffy grey cat trying to get his attention.

“Joshua!” 

“What?” He asks, looking up at you when he hears the urgency in your tone. You point towards the cat sitting patiently beside his chair, and Joshua furrows his eyebrows in confusion, turning to where you pointed, only for his eyes to widen when he locks eyes with the cat.

“You followed me from the register!” Joshua exclaims in a soft voice, reaching down to pick up the cat. You let out a bright smile as Joshua coos at the precious animal, petting the cat softly as his eyes sparkle with joy.

“Yn, this is the cat I wanted to show you.” He tells you, letting out a soft chuckle when the cat nuzzles his head into Joshua’s chest. You nod your head, about to respond when the waitress walks up to your guys’ table and begins to place your order down onto the surface. 

“Thank you so much!” You say, and the waitress gives you a smile, bowing her head in response. She makes a move to leave, only to stop when she sees you and Joshua continue to play with the cats that stayed near you both. 

“Would you like me to take a photo of the two of you?” You and Joshua pause, both turning to glance at the waitress as she stands by your table, a knowing smile on her face. 

You and Joshua don’t have a single photo together in the month and a half that you’ve known each other. You’re not sure how he feels about his photo being taken, as he’s usually the one behind the camera rather than in front of it when the two of you are together.

Taking a peek at Joshua to see his reaction, you notice the indecipherable look on his face, and that’s how you know his answer. You give the waitress a small smile, moving to open your mouth when you see Joshua’s hand outstretched towards her through your peripheral vision. 

You turn your head to look at him, only to see that he’s giving her a grin, phone in hand as he nods his head. “That’d be nice, thank you.” 

Joshua lifts up the cat in his lap and stands up from his chair, taking a step forward and sitting down in the booth beside you. You continue to stare at him in silence, the slight shock evident on your features when he finally turns to glance at you. He gives you a soft smile, before pointing towards the waitress preparing to take your guys’ photo. 

“Say cheese!” She says, but you continue to stare at Joshua, watching as he smiles at the camera, raising the cat’s paw as if he’s saying hello. Warmth floods your heart as you turn towards the camera, a bright smile on your face as you hold up your cat’s paw as well, matching Joshua’s pose.

As you lay in bed hours later, you turn your head towards your bedside table when you hear the vibration of your phone. Reaching out, you pick up the cool metal, seeing a few messages from Joshua.

joshushushu: [attachment 4 images] 

thank you for taking me to the cat café :3

i think you’re some sort of cat whisperer based on how many cats came up to our table lol

it’s late, so you’re probably asleep

i’ll text you in the morning ^^

sweet dreams, yn

You tap on the images Joshua sent, and you let out a smile when you see the first photo is of you smiling happily down at the tabby cat, softly petting her head. Downloading the image, your thumb swipes across the screen, and you feel warmth flood your face at the fact that it’s the photo of the two of you. Except you’re not staring at the camera.

You’re staring at Joshua.

There’s a fond smile on your face, eyes sparkling brightly at him as he smiles at the camera, seemingly having no idea of the fact that you’re staring at him rather than the camera. Biting the inside of your cheek, you download the image and swipe to the left, now seeing the photo of both you and Joshua smiling at the camera, a cat paw in hand as you each make them wave for the photo. 

You download the photo before swiping to the left one more time, and your breath hitches when you lay eyes on the image.

You’re laughing happily down at the tabby cat who was protesting the grabbing of the paws for the photo, not paying attention to posing anymore. While Joshua is now staring at you, the softest of smiles on his face as he watches you laugh with the cat. 

You let out a shaky breath, zooming into the photo and seeing that he really is looking at you. 

He’s looking at you as if you’re the most precious thing in the world.

You download the image, a small smile on your face as you go to your settings and replace the homescreen you’ve had for the last two years, exiting the app to now see the photo of you and Joshua as your wallpaper. The warmth from the photo covers you like a blanket, and you turn off your phone, placing it back down onto your bedside table. 

You roll over onto your side and close your eyes, ignoring the harsh reality check that’s looming in the back of your mind in order to try and retain that happy feeling.

You fall asleep with lingering thoughts of pretty cats and Joshua Hong’s smile.

“Thank you, have a good rest of your day.” Joshua says warmly as he hands the to-go bag to the customer. She gives him a smile, reaching into her pocket to take out ₩15,000 and place it onto the table. The blonde’s eyes widen slightly, and he looks back up at her in a stunned silence, as if to ask if she really means it. 

The woman nods her head, “You deserve it. Thank you for the food.” 

Joshua watches as she leaves the restaurant, still shocked as he watches her figure disappear out the door. He glances back down at the ₩15,000, reaching out and picking it up from the counter, eyeing the money for a moment. 

“I’ve been working here for six months.” Joshua mutters quietly, taking the ₩15,000 and placing it into his apron. He lets out a grateful smile, grabbing the spray bottle and towel to go and clean some tables. 

It was the first tip he’s ever received.

“See you on Friday!” Joshua calls out as he pushes back the curtain to exit the kitchen, only to stop and turn back when he hears his boss call out to him. The older man walks over to Joshua, grinning and resting a hand on the blonde’s shoulder. 

“I just wanted to tell you that you look great lately.” Joshua raises an eyebrow, wondering what could’ve changed. He does a onceover of his own appearance, and his boss lets out a laugh, shaking his head. 

“I mean you in general. You look happier, brighter even. I’m happy for you.” Joshua blinks in surprise, before letting out a small smile. He bows his head as his thanks, and his boss pats his shoulder once more and turns around to walk back towards his office. 

Joshua lets out a breath, before closing the curtain behind him and walking over towards the exit. He tilts his head, “How does a person look happy?” 

He pushes open the doors and moves to step out from under the cover, only to pause when he registers the rain falling onto the road. He sighs, glancing down at his empty hands, cursing himself for not bringing an umbrella. 

“Guess I have to sprint-”

“Joshua!” The blonde’s eyebrows furrow at the voice, and he looks up, seeing you hurrying over with a bright yellow umbrella. It’s a stark contrast to the rather gloomy atmosphere and all the black umbrellas around you. His heart rate picks up at the sight of your smile, watching as you make your way over until you’re standing a couple feet away from him.

“How’d you know I forgot my umbrella?” Joshua asks teasingly as you hand him the yellow umbrella, taking it from your grasp and holding it over the two of you as you begin to walk down the sidewalk. 

“Had an intuition.” You answer with a grin, and he rolls his eyes. The two of you update each other on how your days were, chuckles exchanged as you explain how you made the best kimchi fried rice of your life. 

“You should make it for me sometime.” Joshua says, and you peek at him, smiling and nodding your head. 

“Of course, Joshua.” 

The two of you fall into a comfortable silence, walking close beside each other in order to fit under your small umbrella. It’s when you’re close to Joshua’s apartment, and the streets are relatively quiet, that Joshua glances over and notices your hand sticking out of the umbrella. He watches in silence as you let the rain hit your skin, moving your hand as if it were a wave in the ocean.

“Your hand is getting wet.” Joshua points out, and you pause, turning to him as warmth rushes to your face at the fact that he caught you. You give him a bashful smile, nodding your head as you let your arm fall back to your side. “Yeah.” 

“Why?” You notice that he looks genuine, there’s no teasing tone in his voice, no mirth in his gaze as he stares at you. He just wants to know why you were letting your own arm get wet. You break the eye contact, looking down at the ground as the two of you continue to walk. 

“I just realized I’ve never played in the rain before.” 

Joshua stares at you for a moment longer, having not seen you so shy about something you wanted to do before. He lets out a breath, turning away as he reaches up and closes the yellow umbrella, promptly removing the shield that had been protecting the two of you from the rain.

Your eyes widen as you feel the rain hit you, and you turn your head, seeing Joshua place your umbrella down on the sidewalk. He looks back towards you, raising an eyebrow when he sees the shocked expression on your face. 

Joshua simply just closes his eyes and tilts his head up towards the sky, outstretching his arms as he feels the rain soak his clothes. That’s all you need to see for a smile to finally form on your face, and you let out a laugh, raising your arms into the air and spinning around. 

Joshua opens his eyes when he hears your laugh, and he looks over at you—only to feel his breath get taken away. The rain falls softly from the sky, landing on you as you laugh happily, a bright smile on your face. Time seems to slow down as he stares at you, heart stuttering in his chest as he watches you spin around, pure joy radiating from your features. 

He’s reminded of the first time the two of you met on the Banpo bridge almost two months ago, when you told him that life was beautiful and he didn’t understand how you could see it that way.

“I wish I could see it like you do.” Joshua mutters, and you look over at him, finding that he’s still staring up at the sky. His breath is visible due to the cold temperatures, and you watch as he lets out a sigh. He turns towards you, giving you a heartbreaking smile, “Life hasn’t been kind to me.” 

As Joshua watches you dance in the rain, he realizes that he finally understands what you mean. 

Life is beautiful.

You lay in bed, still shivering even after having taken a hot shower as soon as you finished dancing in the rain with Joshua a couple hours prior. With a shaking hand, you pull up the comforter closer to your chin, wondering when you’ve become so frail, weak you should say.

“At least Joshua hasn’t noticed anything.” You mumble, knowing that your time left is short as you’ve been feeling more tired as the days go by. Rolling over, you look out the window to try and get sleepy, seeing the moon staring back at you. 

Your hand slips out of the covers, reaching out and grasping the air as you tried to reach for the moon. Letting your arm fall back onto the bed, you let out a breath.

You always wondered if you’d ever be able to reach the moon and the stars when you were younger. 

“Yn?” Turning your head, you see Joshua standing by the door to his bedroom. His blonde hair falls softly over his forehead, almost hiding his pretty eyes from sight. You watch as he walks over, reaching out and resting his hand over your head when he notices you shivering. 

“Do you want another blanket? You’re shivering.” Giving him a soft smile, you shake your head as you simply pull the comforter up more. 

“Why are you still awake?” You ask, and he stares at you for a moment. 

The corner of his lips quirk upwards, “I should be asking you the same thing.” 

“Touché.”

Joshua chuckles, patting your head fondly before pointing back towards the bedroom door. You peek through the doorway, seeing his dark living room. “I’ll go back to the couch. I just wanted to check on you.” 

It’s when he’s about to leave that you reach out and grasp his wrist softly, promptly stopping him from taking another step. He turns to look back at you, seeing the same shy look on your face that he saw earlier. 

He’s reminded of the night where the two of you slept on the couch a few weeks prior, having experienced this exact scenario before. 

“Mm?” You bite the inside of your cheek, not wanting to respond. Instead, you weakly pull him towards you, and he takes a few steps towards your bedside. 

The two of you stare at each other for a moment in silence, numerous questions flooding your guys’ brain as you do so. However, you can only bring yourself to mutter out one word.

“Stay.” 

Joshua’s stare doesn’t waver, and you feel yourself growing more embarrassed the longer you wait for his response. You fully believe that he’s going to say no with the way he doesn’t hold your hand in return, and your belief comes true when he lets your hand fall back to the bed. 

It shouldn’t hurt. You know that you shouldn’t have gotten attached to him, or let him become so close to you. 

You’re going to die anyways.

Joshua turning down your request is for the best. It means there are still barriers between the two of you, that the last time you woke up with his arms wrapped around you was just a moment of weakness. That it won’t happen again.

The regret pools in your heart as you watch him turn and walk away, and you wonder whether or not you should apologize for even asking him in the first place.

Only for your eyes to widen when you see him walk to the other side of the bed, pulling up the comforter and climbing in. He arranges his pillows, before laying down and turning over onto his side, now facing you. 

You stare at him in shock, and he squints at you in amusement. The blonde reaches out and pokes your forehead, snapping you out of your surprised state. He chuckles, “You asked me to stay, so I’m staying.” 

A smile finally makes its way onto your face, and Joshua lets out a breath at the sight. The moonlight rests over you, illuminating your features beautifully, even in his dark bedroom. He feels himself smile back at you, eyes softening with fondness as he stares at you.

You tentatively reach your hand out, trying your best to hide the shakiness to it as you let it rest on Joshua’s cheek. He doesn’t seem unphased from the touch, he just continues to stare into your eyes as the look on your face softens.

“You look best when you’re happy.” You say quietly, and the blonde doesn’t respond. You watch as tears slowly fill his eyes, and your eyebrows furrow. You’ve never seen Joshua cry, not once in the time you’ve known him. Unexpectedly, Joshua’s hand comes out from under the covers and rests over yours, encompassing your cold hand in warmth. 

“I want to be a better person for you.” Joshua mutters, blinking away the tears as he tries to look at anything else in his room. You shake your head, your own heart breaking within your chest at how vulnerable he looks. You swipe away the tears from under his eye, and his eyes flit back to you, watching as a soft smile forms on your face. 

“You… you have always been more than enough, Joshua.” 

The blonde lets out a breath at your response, before his eyes softly fall shut. Your heart is warm within your chest as you let your eyes linger on him for a moment longer, his hand still resting over your own as he tries to fall asleep. 

Your gaze trails over back towards the window, seeing how bright the moon and millions of stars are in the dark sky. 

You may not have reached the moon and the stars like you originally wanted.

You look back towards Joshua, content washing over you when you listen to his steady breathing, seeing that he’s already fast asleep. You remove yours and Joshua’s hand from his cheek, letting it rest onto the mattress. A smile escapes you when you feel his hand tighten softly around yours in his sleep. After a moment, your eyes slowly fall shut with Joshua being the one to keep you warm, hand holding your own as the two of you fall asleep facing each other.

But you’ve reached the sun, and that’s more than enough.

You stare at your medicine, wondering if you should even take it when you don’t have much time left. Shaking your head, you let out an aggravated sigh, taking out the pill and dry-swallowing it. 

You immediately regret dry-swallowing the large pill as you grab your glass of water, taking a large gulp to try and swallow it properly. Letting out a cough, you walk over to your fridge, not even feeling hungry as you stare at the food in it. 

march 18, 2021

It’s been two months. 

Your time is running out.

You’re about to grab a small container of yogurt when you hear your phone go off, and you glance over to see the screen lit up. Closing your fridge door, you walk back over to the counter and pick up your phone, a grin immediately forming on your face when you see that Joshua texted you.

joshushushu: be ready at 8 later, i’ll come pick you up !

you: so you’re the one planning now, huh? 

since when were you coming for my career

joshushushu: you’re just jealous cause i’m better at it

you: take that BACK.

joshushushu: see you at 8 <3

you: JOSHUA

You chuckle, turning off your phone and looking back towards your refrigerator. Letting out a sigh, you walk over and take out the yogurt, grabbing a spoon and dipping into the snack. You quietly eat the yogurt as you walk over to your living room window, staring out at the city. 

The skies are blue, a contrast to the cloudy days Seoul had for the last couple of weeks. Your eyes follow the birds that fly past your window, watching as they get smaller and smaller the farther they go. You let out a sigh, taking another spoonful of yogurt.

“What a beautiful day.” 

“Are you okay?” You turn your head to glance at Joshua, seeing the look of concern on his face as he looks at you. Giving him a smile, you nod your head, reaching up and rubbing the back of your neck as you look out the window of the bus.

“I’m okay, just tired.” The feeling of Joshua’s eyes on your side profile remains, and you hope that he doesn’t question it anymore. The blonde simply smiles, patting the top of your head fondly. “You can sleep, yn. I’ll wake you up when we get there.” 

You bite the inside of your cheek at his kindness, and nod in response. You rest your head against the window and close your eyes, ignoring the rumbling from the bumpy road. 

A few minutes pass of Joshua scrolling through his phone when he sees your head moving out of the corner of his eye. He looks at you, seeing your head bumping against the window whenever the bus drives over a pothole in the road, somehow still fast asleep.

Joshua reaches out and softly grasps your head, pulling you over so that you’re now resting on his shoulder. He stares at your sleeping face for a moment longer, finding that you look at peace as you sleep. 

“Pretty.” Joshua mutters, before looking out towards the window for the rest of the way.

It’s only half an hour later when you feel a hand gently shaking your shoulder, and Joshua’s soft voice telling you to wake up. Groggily, you open your eyes and sit up in the seat, scratching your head. You turn and look up to find Joshua standing up from the bus seat, throwing his bag over his shoulder. He lets out a giggle at how sleepy you look, “Come on. We’re here.” 

Turning towards the window, you see the Han River glimmering back at you. Raising an eyebrow, you stand up from the seat and look at Joshua, who’s just giving you a close-lipped smile. He extends his hand out towards you, and you stare at it.

After a moment, you reach out, feeling his warm hand encompass your cold one. He grins, giving your hand a squeeze before turning and guiding you off the bus. The two of you walk in silence as he leads you towards the top of a hill, but it soon becomes hard to breathe. 

“J-Joshua.” You wheeze out, and the blonde pauses, turning to see you doubled over. 

“Are you okay? Do you want to take a break here?” You don’t respond, instead trying to catch your breath as you hold onto Joshua’s hand like a lifeline. His eyebrows furrow, and he squats so that he can look into your eyes, watching as you begin to breathe properly again.

“Yn.” 

“Mm?” 

“We gotta work on your endurance.” Joshua jokes, and you let out a laugh, reaching out and slapping his shoulder as you stand up straight. He giggles, feeling relieved that you’ve caught your breath. He gives your hand a squeeze when he gets up from his squatting position, and you look at him. “Ready?” 

You nod your head, squeezing his hand in return, “Ready.” 

Joshua smiles, leading you towards the top of the hill once again. He makes sure to keep glancing back at you and even slows his pace as a means for you to not get exhausted again. 

When the two of you finally reach the top of the hill, he lets go of your hand, and you pout at the loss of warmth. You’re about to ask why he brought you here, only to stop when you see him unzip his bag, pulling out a picnic blanket and laying it onto the cold grass. 

“A picnic? At 9 pm?” You ask, only for Joshua not to respond as he just slips off his shoes and lays down onto the checkered blanket. You smile in amusement, tilting your head as you wonder what he’s doing. 

Joshua lets out an exasperated sigh, reaching out and patting the empty space beside him on the blanket. Pursing your lips, you slowly slip off your sneakers and climb onto the blanket, carefully laying on your back. Your head is turned to him, and you’re about to ask what now? Only for Joshua to gently grasp your chin, turning you away until you look up towards the sky and-

Wow. 

The millions of stars are shining brighter than you’ve ever seen. It was as if someone gathered a handful of sparkles and scattered them across the wide expanse of the dark sky, bringing light to unappreciative eyes. 

Joshua turns his head to see your reaction, and he smiles at the bright look to your eyes, your mouth being dropped open slightly in awe. 

He knew of your fascination with the sky ever since the two of you met on Banpo bridge. From the way your eyes sparkled at the sight of the moonlight reflecting across the river, to the content smile that would make its way onto your face whenever you’d look up towards the moon.

And so, whenever he would finish his evening classes at university, he’d take the bus to different parks and look for the spot that had the best sight of the sky at night.

Joshua wanted you to be able to reach the stars. 

“Do you like it?” You turn towards the pretty blonde, seeing the slight apprehension on his face in fear that you won’t be happy with his surprise for you. You watch as it melts away from the sight of your bright smile, and a breath of relief escapes him. 

“I love it.” 

The two of you turn back towards the sky, pointing at different constellations and talking about which star shines the brightest among the millions you can see. You let out a laugh when Joshua mistakenly points out lights from a plane as a shooting star, and he rolls his eyes, but the fond smile on his face tells you that he’s anything but annoyed. 

The two of you fall into a comfortable silence afterwards, just appreciating the beautiful sky. You feel warm, even though you’re in this cold weather, you somehow feel warm just by being with Joshua. The bright stars shine down at you, and you slowly raise your arm up to the sky.

Joshua’s eyes follow your hand, watching as it grasps at the air. His gaze trails down to your face, seeing you stare up at the stars with an indecipherable emotion in your eyes. He turns away, and your arm falls back down to your side. 

“What’s something you want to do with me?” Joshua asks, breaking the comfortable silence. You purse your lips, finding the question hard as you wonder how you could even answer this. 

You want to do everything with him.

You want to go to a karaoke place with him, go bowling, go to an amusement park and eat all the festival food. Watch a movie, play in the snow and build a snowman. Go to the beach and make sand castles, go grocery shopping, visit him at work. Go to uni with him, go on a walk, talk about your day, make him kimchi fried rice. Everything. 

You want to do everything with Joshua. 

Letting out a shaky breath, your eyes trail over to the trees down the hill, lined up on the sides of the pathway. You stare at the unbloomed buds, already seeing the beautiful flowers in the back of your mind that you know you won’t be here in time to see.

“Cherry blossoms.” You utter, and the blonde turns to you.

“Hm?”

“I want to see the cherry blossoms with you.” Joshua lets out an, ah, a smile forming on his face at the thought of seeing the beautiful pink flowers with you. He looks back up towards the stars, “Cherry blossoms were always my favorite flower.” 

You listen to Joshua’s soft voice, holding onto every word as you stare down at the unbloomed trees. The blonde lets out a breathless chuckle. “April was my favorite month because that’s when the cherry blossoms would bloom, but I stopped being excited for them a couple years back.” 

Joshua grins, heart growing warm in his chest when he thinks of you spinning around excitedly underneath the cherry blossom trees, the pink petals softly falling around you. 

“But I’m excited to see them with you, yn.” 

Your heart wavers in your chest at Joshua’s sweet words, and you clench your fist at your side. Tears fill your eyes as you look away from the unbloomed cherry blossom trees, gaze trailing back up towards the stars. A tear escapes your left eye as you choke out, 

“I’m excited to see them with you too, Joshua.” 

Laying in bed, you stare up at the ceiling tiredly, having lost almost all your energy a week ago. You roll over and look at your phone, watching as the screen lights up.

march 23, 2021

You let out a shaky breath, knowing that you should admit yourself to the hospital within a few days. However,

You open up your messaging app, tapping on your conversation with Joshua.

you: joshuaaa 

be ready at 2 ! i prepared a fun day for us :)

joshushushu: does it involve you paying for our meal? 

you: capitalism is the root of all evil.

but yes. yes it does.

joshushushu: okay epic, i’m in.

i’ll see you later ^^

you: see you <3

Turning off your phone, you take in a deep breath, before slowly climbing out of bed. The exhaustion weighs over you like a blanket, but you push yourself to make it to the bathroom to shower.

You need to get ready to spend one last day with Joshua.

Sitting on the bench at the bus stop, you stare down at your sneakers as you wait for the pretty blonde to show up. It took you a while to get to the bus stop, as you felt even more exhausted by the time you stepped out of your apartment complex. You took your medicine and attempted to eat some food, but to no avail. 

The sunlight that was once shining down onto you suddenly disappears as you were thinking to yourself, and you look up to see Joshua grinning down at you. 

“What did you plan for today? Grocery shopping?” He asks, and you roll your eyes, standing up when you notice the bus heading your way. Nudging his shoulder, you answer, “No, something better than restocking my food and cleaning supplies.” 

Joshua lets out a mock gasp, making you giggle as the two of you climb onto the bus. You sit down in the window seat, the pretty man following soon after and continuing what he was saying. 

“Better than following you around the grocery store while pushing a cart for an hour? No such thing.” You laugh, slapping his leg and shaking your head at him. He grins, reaching up and patting the top of your head fondly. 

“I’m kidding. Doing anything with you brightens my day either way.” Joshua confesses, and you freeze slightly, before regaining your composure. Giving him a tight smile, you turn and glance out the window, watching as the world passes by. Cars filled with people going to wherever it is they’re going, people waiting on the crosswalks to cross the street, children screaming and playing on the playgrounds.

The world is roaring with life. 

“I’m happy for them.��� You whisper, before closing your eyes. 

“Yn, you shouldn’t have.” Joshua says when you lead him towards the entrance of a dog café. You grin, shrugging your shoulders as you muster enough strength to pull open the door. “You’re a dog person. I am simply returning the favor.” 

The blonde chuckles, stepping into the café with you following after him. You reach up and hold your bicep, lightly rubbing the area as it feels a bit strained. Your arm immediately falls back to your side when Joshua stops and turns to glance at you, wondering why you’re behind him. 

He lets out a fond smile, reaching his hand out towards you. “Come on, let’s go see the dogs.” 

Your eyes slowly trail down to his hand, warm and inviting. A stark contrast to what yours have become, cold and lonely. You look back up at Joshua’s face, seeing him tilt his head at you, waiting for you to grasp his hand. 

He watches as an indecipherable emotion passes your eyes, before you let out a smile and walk up to him, intertwining your fingers with his. He grins, and the two of you walk further into the café, only to be greeted by a golden retriever. 

Your eyes widen in surprise at the beautiful dog, and you’re about to bend down to pet it—only to stop once the sound of Joshua’s happy laugh rings in your ears. You turn to look at him, finding him patting the dog’s head with a bright smile on his face. 

“Come on puppy, yn and I have to go order our food.” Joshua says softly, before leading you towards the register. You let out a happy squeal when you see all the other dogs roaming around the tables, feeling excited to play with all of them. 

You and Joshua tell the employee what you’d both like to order as a few dogs come to stand beside the two of you. When you’re told the price, you reach into your bag with your free hand to pull out your wallet, only for your mouth to drop open when you see Joshua already handing the employee his card. 

“Joshua! I wanted to pay for us.” You whine, and he simply squeezes your hand with an accomplished grin on his face. He thanks the employee once he’s handed back his card along with the receipt, before turning to face you. 

“You’re just too slow~” Joshua teases, and you squint. You open your mouth to start complaining more, only to pause when you hear the employee’s voice ring out. 

“Sorry to interrupt, but if you’d like, we have a photobooth that you both could go take pictures in.” They tell you with a shy smile, pointing towards the back of the café where the photobooth is, and your eyes brighten at the idea. 

“Thank you so much!” You say, before pulling Joshua in the direction of the photobooth, your free hand already holding your wallet so that you can pay for it. 

“Yn-” You immediately shove your card into the reader when the two of you step into the small box, closing the black curtain. The blonde chuckles at your determination, and you smile as you pull out your card once the payment is accepted.

“How should we pose?” Joshua asks, and you shrug as you watch the timer start to count down. 

“You just gotta feel it.” 

“That’s not helpful at all.” 

“Just follow my lead.” You say with a laugh, and he grins in amusement, turning back towards the screen. The two of you lean your heads closer to each other, and you wink while Joshua simply smiles as the first photo is captured. 

This continues for the next three photos, with the two of you laughing and doing different poses for the photostrip. You both climb out of the small box, waiting for the two photostrips to be printed as you talk about how silly you each must look.

“Ah, they’re printed.” You say once the two photostrips fall out, and you grab them both. You hand one to Joshua, and you hear him let out a small giggle. 

You stare at the photostrip quietly, gauging the photos. Warmth floods your chest at the third panel in particular, and you let out a breath.

This was when the two of you missed the countdown as you were both facing each other and laughing. Joshua’s eyes are bright and filled with warmth, a smile on his face as he looks at you in the photo. Then there’s you, mid-laugh, nothing but joy over your features.

“Wow.” You breathe out, and Joshua chuckles at your reaction, nudging you with his shoulder. You blink, looking away from the photostrip and redirecting your attention towards the blonde. “Mm?”

He points towards the table in the corner, where quite a few dogs are resting around. “Let’s go sit there.” 

You bite back a laugh, knowing exactly why he wants to sit at that exact spot. Nodding your head, you grin when you see his features brighten, and the two of you walk towards the table. The dogs perk up at your guys’ arrival, almost all of them going around Joshua as the two of you sit across from each other.

“So cute!” Joshua exclaims, a big smile on his face when the golden retriever from earlier rests its paws on Joshua’s chair, licking his face excitedly. The corners of your lips quirk up, and you take out your phone, opening the camera app. 

You watch as Joshua grins, petting the golden retriever to try and calm them down as they continue to attempt to lick his face. Tilting your head, you take the photo right as Joshua breaks out into laughter. 

You lower the phone from your face when Joshua turns towards you from the sound of the camera shutter, and he lets out a grin when his gaze trails over to your left hand side.

“So busy ogling me that you didn’t even notice the cute puppy waiting for your attention.” Your eyebrows furrow at Joshua’s sentence, and you turn your head to the left, expecting nothing, only for your eyes to widen when you see the precious corgi sitting beside you in the booth, tail wagging as they stare at you. 

“Oh my God. Hi baby!” You coo, reaching out and finally giving the attention the corgi had been wanting from you. The corgi licks your wrist, and you giggle, petting their back as you turn to shoot a glare towards the blonde. He raises an eyebrow at the squint to your eyes, and he tilts his head in question.

“I was not ogling you!” You exclaim, and Joshua lets out an angelic laugh that makes your heart do a somersault within your chest. A sheepish smile forms on your face, destroying the “angry” persona you were trying to put on.

“Yeah, yeah. Tell it to the judge.”

“Joshua!” You laugh, and he laughs along with you. 

Your guys’ laughter rings throughout the café for the rest of the afternoon, pure happiness exuding from the two of you.

“Oh sikhye, how you never fail me.” You say lovingly to the drink in your hand. Joshua simply chuckles at your antics, taking a sip of his own sikhye as the two of you walk on the sidewalk towards the bridge. 

“Thank you for taking me to the dog café, I had a lot of fun.” Joshua tells you, and you nod your head, a smile forming on your face when you remember how many dogs had been around your table. 

“You’re like a dog magnet, while I’m a cat magnet.” You point out, and the blonde purses his lips in thought, before nodding his head in agreement. “That makes sense.” 

The two of you fall into a comfortable silence as you make your way onto the bridge, the sounds of the cars driving past you both filling the quiet.

“I feel like you could be a catboy, though.” Joshua accidentally snorts his sikhye at your abrupt comment, and you burst out into laughter as he doubles over, coughing up the drink. Patting his back, you wait for him to calm down as he slowly stands back up to his full height, taking deep breaths. 

“A catboy?”

“I cannot believe me calling you a catboy made you snort your drink.” You say, the corners of your mouth twitching as you try to hold back from smiling. The blonde catches this though, and he reaches out and pinches your cheek. 

“Hey!” 

Joshua smiles at your reaction, feeling satisfied that he got his payback after you made him snort his rice drink. He’s about to ask why you think he’s a catboy when he notices you walking up to the railing of the bridge.

You rest your hand onto the cold railing, staring out at the sight laid before you. The skies are painted in various shades of pink, blue, and purple. The sun is setting in the distance, the dark orange reflecting off the Han River, making the water glimmer. 

“It’s…”

“Beautiful.” Joshua finishes, and you turn to him, seeing the sparkle to his eyes as he stares at the scenery. You’re reminded of the cold January night where you met him over two months ago. 

His eye bags are practically gone and the hunch to his shoulders are now replaced with confidence. His features are glowing, looking healthy in comparison to before, but it’s his eyes that have changed the most. His eyes no longer appear exhausted as he turns to look at you, now replaced with something along the lines of content.

“We met on this bridge over two months ago.” You state, and Joshua doesn’t respond. He looks back out towards the water, resting his forearms onto the railing as the thought of that night comes to mind. You follow suit, taking a sip of your sikhye as the two of you stare at the scenery in silence, the memories the two of you made over the last two months playing in your head. 

“You know when I said I couldn’t see life as something beautiful? And that it wasn’t kind to me?” Joshua asks after a moment, and you nod your head, the memory fresh in your mind.

He lets out a breath, “Two months ago, life was so hard for me that I couldn’t even think of trying anymore. So I didn’t understand what you meant when you said that life was beautiful.” 

Your hand squeezes the railing, but you don’t turn to look at Joshua. You know that he wouldn’t want you to look at him as he addresses what he didn’t want to even mention for the last two months. 

Joshua glances at you, the sunset no longer capturing his attention. A small smile escapes him as he stares at you, heart warm within his chest. 

“I understand what you mean now.” You turn to look at him, immediately locking eyes with the ethereal man. The small smile on his face turns into a full one when he stares into your bright eyes, feeling happy just by being with you. 

Joshua turns away, looking back out towards the sunset. Your heart swells with warmth and heartbreak when you hear him say,

“Life is beautiful.” 

You don’t respond right away as you struggle to hold back the tears from escaping. Your eyes remain on the scenery laid before you, doing your best to control your breathing as you watch the sun set below the city. 

Letting out a breath, you feel Joshua turn to look at you with his soft eyes. 

Joshua’s happy, so you’re happy. 

You turn your body towards Joshua and give him a tight smile as you raise your arms into the air. The blonde grins, reaching out and taking the sikhye from your hand when he notices some of its contents spill onto the pavement from your gesture. You giggle at your clumsiness, and he just shakes his head. 

“What would you do without me?” Joshua asks with a smile, and you shrug your shoulders, turning and beginning to walk in the direction of the bus stop. He tilts his head at you, and he watches as you turn and glance at him with a smile. 

“I wouldn’t be as happy as I am now!” You answer, turning away before you get the chance to see Joshua’s reaction. Swallowing the lump in your throat, you swing your arms as you walk, suddenly wishing you had your sikhye in your hand. 

The sound of running footsteps makes you glance back, only to let out a loud laugh when Joshua’s arm suddenly wraps around your shoulders, the sound of his giggles ringing in your ear. He holds out the drink in your direction, and you grin, taking it from his grasp.

As you take a sip of the sweet rice drink, you let out a sigh. You take a peek at Joshua, finding the hint of a smile on his face as he drinks his own beverage in his other hand. He notices your eyes on him, and he looks at you, a warm expression forming on his face. He leans in and gently nudges your head with his, before turning back towards the front. 

It’s as if all the sadness, anger, and pain melts away from the fond gesture. A shy smile breaks out onto your face as you turn away, letting out a sigh of content.

“Ah, what a beautiful day.”

Joshua glances down at his phone while he waits in the elevator as it goes up to the eighth floor, the floor in which your apartment resides.

april 6, 2021

You haven’t contacted Joshua since the day the two of you went to the dog café, let alone open his texts. He’s been texting you everyday and even calling you to try and get a response, but to no avail.

So he finally decided to go visit your apartment to check in on you and ask what happened. 

As the elevator doors open, Joshua steps out and walks down the hallway. Once he turns left to enter the other hall, his eyebrows furrow when he notices the man standing in front of your door. He walks up to the man, who glances up towards the blonde when he catches sight of him through the corner of his eye.

“Do you know yn?” Joshua asks once he’s a few feet away from the older man. The gentleman nods, holding up his ID card, “I’m their landlord.” 

Joshua almost lets out a breath of relief, finally having met someone who could possibly know where you’ve been. The blonde points towards your apartment door, “Yn hasn’t contacted me in like, two weeks. Do you know if they’re home or if they went somewhere-”

“You don’t know?” Your landlord asks, and Joshua pauses. A feeling of dread runs down his spine when he sees the look of pity appear in the older man’s eyes when Joshua shakes his head, no. 

The dread soon turns into regret when the landlord informs him of the information he hadn’t known for the last three months.

“Are you comfortable?” The nurse asks as she replaces your tube. You give her a weak smile, glancing out the window and staring at the birds flying past it as you answer, “As comfortable as I can be.”

Once the nurse finishes cleaning you up, she bows in your direction and steps out of the room. You let out a breath, eyes trailing down to your phone. You press your finger to the screen, and the photo of Joshua that you took at the dog café shines back at you. 

A soft smile escapes you when you see how brightly he’s laughing, the sound of his joyful laughs still ringing in your ear as if he was here with you. The brief moment of happiness you feel turns into one of guilt when you’re reminded of all the messages, missed calls, and voicemails he’s left you for the last two weeks. 

It’s for the best, you remind yourself. You want him to be happy, and knowing that you’re on your literal deathbed would take that away from him. 

You bite the inside of your cheek once you feel the tears rise to your eyes, and you let out an annoyed huff. In an attempt to make the wetness to your eyes disappear, you move to stare up at the ceiling, only to freeze when your gaze lands on the doorway. 

“Joshua?” 

The blonde is standing there, chest rising and falling as he stares at you, pain evident in his gaze. His eyes trail over your appearance, wondering how he didn’t see the signs from the beginning. From the times you told him you were having trouble sleeping, the loss of appetite, how easily exhausted you would become from simply laughing too hard in the recent weeks.

How could he not know? 

“Yn.” Joshua breathes out, walking over to your bedside and sitting down in the chair. Feeling the tears flood your eyes, you look away from him, staring down at your hands in shame. 

“How did you find out?” You ask in a quiet voice, knowing he’s going to hate you for not telling him. When you don’t hear his response, the tears escape your eyes, falling onto the hospital blanket. 

“I’m so sorry Joshua.”

“I’m so selfish.” Your eyes widen slightly, and you look up from the blanket, only for your heart to break within your chest when you see the tears falling past Joshua’s eyes. 

“I-I hated my life and I openly complained about it in front of you, but you were going through so much worse and you still saw the beauty in it.” Joshua mutters, his hands reaching up towards his face as he tries to wipe away his tears. “I’m so sorry, yn.” You feel a sob bubble up in your chest, and you shake your head at him. 

“Don’t compare your struggles and pain to mine. Your struggles and your pain are valid. You have nothing to apologize for.” You tell him, vision becoming blurry as you reach out towards him with your hand. Joshua bites his bottom lip, before grasping your cold hand with his warm one. 

“It’s not fair.” Joshua mutters, and you blink at him. His hand tightens gently around yours, and he looks up into your beautiful eyes that hold so much life in them.

The life you deserve to live.

“I-It’s not fair. You of all people deserve to live your life.” Joshua says, the anger and sadness heavy in his voice. You let out a small smile, squeezing his hand with as much energy you can muster. “Sometimes life isn’t fair.”

Joshua just scoffs at your positivity and you let out a weak giggle. His eyes soften from the sight of your smile, and he reaches out with his free hand, wiping away your tears with his thumb. You lean into the touch, and Joshua feels his heart stutter in his chest. 

“Can you stay with me?” You ask, looking up into his deerlike eyes. Warmth floods the blonde’s face at how ethereal you are, feeling content when he still sees the sparkle in your eyes. 

“Yeah, always.”

Joshua slips off of his shoes and scoots you over on the hospital bed. He climbs onto it and lays onto his back beside you. You rest your head onto his arm, turning onto your side so that you’re facing him, and close your eyes at the feeling of his fingers intertwining with yours. 

“Thank you.” You mutter sleepily, and Joshua raises an eyebrow. 

“For what?” 

The memories of the last three months rewind in your head like a cassette tape, all the joy, laughter, sadness. All of it. 

“For making my last three months worthwhile.” 

Joshua sucks in a breath at your words, and he clenches his fist at his side. He’s filled with anger, sadness, so many different emotions as he turns his body to face you. He finds that you’re already fast asleep, small puffs of air leaving your lips, a reminder that you’re here. 

You’re alive.

Holding back the tears from rising, Joshua closes his eyes and gently rests his forehead onto yours. He feels your breath hit his lips, and he finds that it’s the only thing that calms him down as he feels a wave of drowsiness hit him.

He soon falls asleep with the thought of you turning to face him on the bridge two weeks ago, with the bright smile on your face that he’s grown to love.

“Can I please take yn out of the hospital? They’re right at the entrance. It’s not like I’m taking yn to an amusement park.” 

“No, Joshua.” 

“But Dr. Park, please.” Joshua practically begs, following after your doctor as he tries to walk back to his office. The man doesn’t even spare the blonde another glance, already set on his answer. 

It’s been a week since Joshua discovered the truth of your illness, and he’s visited every single day. Even if he had classes or a shift at work, he’d immediately take the bus to the hospital right after to come and see you.

He knows your time is soon from how frail you’ve become, the exhaustion and pain evident on your face no matter how hard you try to hide it behind the smile you show him. 

That’s why he’s desperate for Dr. Park to say yes.

“I’ll even have the nurse accompany us! Please, it won’t take long.” Joshua calls out, and he watches as Dr. Park’s shoulders slump as he lets out a sigh. The older man turns to glance at him, “Joshua…”

“Please, Dr. Park. Yn—” Joshua looks down at his shoes, swallowing the lump in his throat as he tries to muster up the courage to say the next words. “Yn doesn’t have much time left.” 

Dr. Park stares at the blonde, knowing very well that your time is drawing near. He looks to his side, remembering what he told you the day you found out about your tragic fate. 

“Eat whatever you want, do things you’ve always wanted to do. Live your life, yn.” 

Dr. Park lets out a sigh, before turning back towards Joshua, who’s still staring down at the floor. He purses his lips, “Fine. You can take yn, but not for long. I’ll have their nurse accompany you.” 

Joshua immediately lifts up his head, eyes bright as he nods his head frantically. He blurts out multiple thank yous, even bowing at least ten times before he heads back to your hospital room. 

Dr. Park just lets out a sad smile as he watches the blonde disappear past the corner. Shaking his head, he glances down at his clipboard and heads towards his next patient. 

You lay in the hospital bed, struggling to keep your eyes open as you wait for Joshua. Your gaze is glued towards the doorway, wondering when you’ll see those pretty deerlike eyes of his. Your eyelids feel heavy, and you feel sleep beginning to pull you in. 

“Yn!” Your eyes slowly open at the angelic voice, and you find Joshua walking up to your hospital bed with an excited smile on his face. The corners of your lips tug upward, “Joshua, you look excited.”

“I have a surprise for you.” Your eyebrows furrow in suspicion, and he lets out a laugh. A sudden figure at your doorway catches your attention, and Joshua steps to the side so that you can see. You squint when you see your nurse standing there, a wheelchair in front of her as she gives you a smile. 

“What are you planning?” You ask, eyes going back to the blonde. He shrugs his shoulders, reaching out and grasping your cold hand, giving it a squeeze. 

“You’ll see.”

It takes about twenty minutes until you’re finally in the wheelchair, as you’re no longer able to walk on your own. It was hard, since Joshua had to help your nurse by carrying you and placing you into the seat. You kept apologizing for being a bother, but Joshua would always reply, 

“You could never be a bother, yn.”

And now you’re being pushed through the halls. With your nurse holding onto the IV pole while Joshua pushes you. You can’t help but feel a bit of excitement run through your veins as the three of you slowly make your way out of the hospital, no matter how exhausted you are.

“What’s the surprise? Did you buy me a sikhye truck?” 

“You think I’m rich?” Joshua counters, and you smile at his response. It’s when you’re closer to the automatic doors that you begin to feel your heartbeat faster, ecstatic to be able to smell the fresh air. 

“Are you ready?” Joshua asks, leaning over to peek at your face. You let out a shaky breath, before nodding your head and giving him a thumbs up. “Of course.” 

The blonde smiles, and starts pushing you towards the exit again, watching as the automatic doors open for the three of you. The sunlight shines down on you once you’re outside, and you suck in a deep breath of the fresh air, blinking your eyes to get used to the sudden light.

Once your eyes open again, you find Joshua standing before you, arms stretched up towards the sky. A pose that you always did when the two of you were together. You’re about to ask what he’s doing when a sudden flash of pink flies past your face. You turn your head, eyes following after it until it falls onto the ground next to dozens of others.

A cherry blossom petal. 

You slowly look back towards Joshua, seeing the warm smile on his face as he stares at you. Your eyes trail upwards, and you let out a breath when you see the fully bloomed cherry blossom trees above you. The brilliant shades of pink and white are hanging above you, and you feel your heart swell. 

A breeze blows past the trees, and you watch as the petals begin to fall around you and Joshua. The beautiful and delicate petals gently flow with the wind, as if they were pink snowflakes fluttering past you.

Opening up the palm of your hand, you watch as a precious petal falls directly into the middle of it. You let out a wet laugh, tears trailing down your cheeks as you look back up towards Joshua. He’s smiling back at you, eyes filled with tears of his own as the two of you stare at each other. 

“I saw the cherry blossoms with you.” You say softly, and Joshua nods his head, a heartbreaking smile on his face. Biting your bottom lip, you close your fingers around the precious petal in your hand, blinking away the tears that keep flooding your eyes.

“Thank you, Joshua.” You mutter, and the blonde simply lets out a sigh, turning so that he’s facing the cherry blossom tree. You look up towards him, seeing the small smile on his face as he glances back at you. 

“Consider it a gift, yn.”

You lay on your hospital bed, listening to Joshua tell you about the lecture he attended today. Your heart warms when you hear him let out a giggle when mentioning something his classmate said, and a small smile escapes you. 

It’s been a few hours since you were brought back inside from seeing the cherry blossom trees, and Joshua’s stayed by your side the whole time. He didn’t even leave when you took a nap, just staying in the chair beside your bed doing his homework as he waited for you to wake up. 

You know that your time is almost over as you feel your heartbeat slow while listening to Joshua, finding yourself growing more sleepy. Somehow, rather than being afraid, you feel content. 

You’re happy.

You can see that Joshua knows it too, as he keeps talking to you about anything and everything, when you’d usually be the one to fill the silence. 

“And that’s how—”

“Joshua?” The blonde looks up at the sound of your voice immediately, and his heart falls when he sees the smile on your face. 

It’s different from all the ones before. It’s not bright, teasing, exciting, no. 

It’s accepting.

“Y-Yeah?” Joshua asks, and you extend your hand towards him. He reaches out and grasps it, your hand fitting perfectly within his own. 

“What’s the most beautiful thing about life?” You ask in a soft voice, staring into those deerlike eyes that seem to hold all the stars in the world. 

You want to remember it.

You want to remember him.

Joshua bites the inside of his cheek at your question, looking down at your connected hands as he tries to think of his answer. You watch as his eyebrows furrow in thought, and you grin in amusement at how hard he’s thinking.

The thought of the arcade comes to mind, as the neon purple lights shone on your face as you turned to look at him with a bright smile.

The sunset, when you spun around with your arms in the air and danced along the grass as he took photos of you. 

Going grocery shopping, when you were telling him a story with the softest of smiles on your face. Your eyes twinkled underneath the horrible fluorescent lights, and he wondered how you could possibly look so ethereal even with the bad lighting.

Your strawberry pajamas that you love so much.

Visiting the cat café, where your smile was the brightest and you were practically glowing from all the attention from the cats.

When it rained and you were laughing and spinning around as you let the raindrops fall onto you. Not a care in the world as you smiled brightly and extended your hand out towards him.

Going stargazing, except when he turned his head and looked into your eyes — he realized that you shined brighter than the millions of stars in the sky.

Joshua looks back towards you, seeing you waiting expectantly. His eyes trail over your features, from your beautiful eyes to your pretty lips that always hold a smile. He squeezes your hand softly as he finally answers,

“You.”

You blink at his answer, before a small smile breaks out onto your face. Looking away, you notice the full moon out the window, with the millions of stars surrounding it on this clear night. You let out a breath, feeling like they’re closer tonight. 

“What about you? What’s the most beautiful thing about life?” Joshua asks, and he watches as your head slowly turns back towards him. You give him a grin and squeeze his hand with as much energy as you can muster, finding yourself getting lost in his bright eyes. 

“You. The most beautiful thing about life is you, Joshua.” 

Joshua smiles, but his heart hurts as his eyes pan to your vital signs monitor, seeing that your heart rate is slowing. He looks back at you, and he sucks in a deep breath when only one thought comes to mind. 

There’s still so many things he wants to tell you, so many things he wants to do with you. However, as he stares into your eyes, he realizes there’s only one last thing you need to know.

“Yn?” 

“Yeah, Joshua?” You respond, now struggling to keep your eyes open as you stare at him. 

“I love you.” 

You and Joshua stare at each other in silence for a moment, having finally aired out the truth that the two of you have kept hidden for the last three months. The truth that the both of you kept denying, for fear of the future. A bright smile forms on your face, and Joshua feels his heart stutter within his chest at the sight. 

“I love you too, Joshua.” 

He lets out a breath, swallowing the lump in his throat to try and appear strong for you. As Joshua stares at you, he realizes just how beautiful you are. Even though you’re frail and tired, your beauty is unmatched as he looks into your eyes. 

And so, Joshua smiles back at you, and you feel warmth flood your body at the beauty of it.

You hope to remember his smile even in your next life.

Joshua hears your monitor begin to beep, signalling that your heart rate is dropping. He doesn’t look away from you, holding the eye contact between the two of you as your eyes slowly fall shut. The grip you had on his hand loosens, and he continues to stare at you as your nurse comes in once the sound of the flatline rings throughout the room. 

Joshua stands up from the chair, heart thumping against his chest once your nurse turns off your monitor. 

“Time of death: Tuesday, April 13th. At 8:13 PM.”

Silence fills the room as he leans down and presses a soft kiss to your temple, before pulling away and falling back into the chair. The smile that he showed you is now gone as he bites his bottom lip, trying to hold back the tears that threaten to fall as he stares at you, the smallest of smiles still remaining on your face.

Joshua looks down as a few tears escape, and he slowly rests his forehead onto your guys’ connected hands, sobs finally wracking through his body as he holds onto you. 

The moon and the stars shine down onto the two of you through the hospital window. They illuminate the room as Joshua sobs against your hand, knowing that you were finally able to reach them. 

You were finally able to reach the moon and the stars.

april 13, 2022

Joshua looks away from the calendar on the wall once he’s handed the bouquet of bright sunflowers. He smiles at the employee, giving them his thanks before he turns around and walks out of the store. 

The sun shines down on him as he walks towards the columbarium, making his black hair appear a light brown underneath the light. 

The sound of the birds chirping rings through his ears, and he smiles softly as he steps in through the entrance. He walks through the hall, before he finally stops, looking up and seeing your bright smile shining back at him.

Joshua lets out a grin at the sight, placing your sunflowers into the mini slot that holds the bouquets. A breath escapes him as he stares at the photos in your display, all of the photos capturing your beautiful smile. His eyes land on the last one, and he bites the inside of his cheek.

It’s the photostrip of the two of you from the day you both went to the dog café. 

Joshua has the same photostrip on the back of his phone case, as a reminder of a beautiful day. 

“Did you miss me?” Joshua asks you, knowing that he won’t receive a response. He smiles softly, looking down at his shoes. 

“It’s been a year without you, and I still think of your bright smile everyday.” Joshua tells you, placing his hands into his pockets as he continues to stare at the floor. “I know you’re getting a kick out of hearing me say that, huh?” 

Joshua stands there before you in silence for a moment, holding back the tears that threaten to flood his eyes. He lets out a shaky breath, before looking back up towards you with a smile and begins to update you on everything that’s happened since he last visited.

From the new job he got at an early learning center as a teacher, to the cat he visits at the shelter that reminds him of you, to his new friend Jeonghan who’s more mischievous than you could imagine, to the fried rice he made in the morning.

He tells you anything and everything until he can no longer think of anything else to say. Joshua lowers his head, wishing that he could hear a response. 

“I miss you.” He mutters, the thought of your smile and contagious laugh coming to mind. There’s a dull ache in his heart that has remained since you passed, and he knows it will be there for a long time. 

But as he lifts up his head to look at you and sees the photo of the both of you laughing, he knows he’ll be okay. You want him to be happy.

Joshua sucks in a deep breath, before reaching up and resting his hand over the glass. 

“Thank you, yn. Thank you for teaching me how to live.” 

Joshua gives you a genuine smile, before taking a step back from your locker. 

“I’ll continue to live happily, so don’t worry about me. I’ll visit you again soon...” Joshua chuckles as he trails off, looking away as warmth floods his face at the thought of the next thing he wants to tell you. He lets out a breath, before smiling at you as he says,

“I love you.” 

And with that, Joshua turns around and walks away with a lighter heart. He steps out of the columbarium and walks down the street, the thought of your smile and the sound of your laugh lingering in his mind. 

He walks with his head down, hands in his pockets as he heads to the bus stop. It’s only when a pink petal floats past him that he pauses and finally looks up from the ground. 

The fully bloomed cherry blossoms are a few feet from him, planted on the grass near the sidewalk, painting the pavement pink. He watches as a breeze blows past him, making hundreds of cherry blossom petals gently fall from the trees. 

Joshua lets out a small smile at the sight, before looking up towards the blue sky. A content sigh escapes him as he watches a pretty white cloud float past him. 

“What a beautiful day.”

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[rapspud]

Bittersweet

Bittersweet    A/N: Decided to rewrite this one. Please enjoy.

Yoongi looked at your friends as he sneered at your prone form sprawled out on the ground, your fingers scrambling to find your glasses.

“Aw what’s the matter? The poor baby can't see?” He purred as he picked up your glasses and dangled them in front of your face before throwing them into the dumpster. “Have fun diving!” He cackles as he slides past your prone figure, cruelly stepping on your hand as he passes.

You could hear the snickers of his friends behind you. You watched as his best friend, Seokjin clapped Yoongi on the shoulder, and whispered, “Oi, I get the whole I hate “y/n” thing but seriously—that was a bit much don’t you think?”

Yoongi  couldn’t believe what he was hearing, “She ratted us out! So I fixed it-and now she can’t see to snitch! And shouldn’t you be on my side? You’re in just as much trouble as I am!”

Seokjin could only look at Yoongi like he had a third head, “ Yeah I guess, but still...there is-” at Yoongi’s raised eyebrow he swallowed what he wanted to say, instead choosing to leave rather than to help Yoongi’s victim, “Hey I gotta go I’ll catch you later okay?”

Yoongi smiled and waved good-bye before walking away from the group. How could he possibly explain how much he hated Y/N? No one here knew the truth about your families-how he had to share a home with you,  your family serving his. He had no respite from you. Yeah, Y/N deserved everything she got, he thought as he got into his car. Plus it's not like you wouldn’t rat him out when you got home about what happened. This time as he drove past you and saw you hunched in on yourself, he couldn’t help but feel a twinge of guilt as he saw you clutching your injured hand, staring resolute at the dumpster, knowing full well that you would go in after the glasses. After all, he knew how hard your mother worked to buy them for you, he knew how you worked 2 jobs and also kept track of your younger brothers. Deep down, he really hoped that maybe this time you would finally explode and tell everyone about all the horrid acts he committed against you. 

Except that you never did tell on him. 

In fact, you avoid Yoongi like the plague.  After finally scrambling into the dumpster and reclaiming your glasses, you clambored back out, hand still screaming in pain. As you stand there wiping the garbage from the lenses and picking off random refuse from your clothes you honestly don’t think you can sink any lower than this. You swipe grimey hands at your cheeks as hot tears run down them, thankful that you are alone. And as you walk away you begin to make plans. You couldn’t keep doing this. And with renewed energy you begin walking home, not didn’t looking back choosing instead to forge ahead, putting one foot in front of another until finally you were in your mid=twenties, and had your own little place. You were happy with your life. But you should have known. All good things must come to an end eventually. You hadn’t thought about him in years, attending school, graduating, opening up a bakery with your best friend. Essentially you were hiding, but not really. 

And then by some ill stroke of luck, he found you.

You awaken to the blaring of your alarm with a groan. Was it really 8 am? The flashing numbers of your clock inform you that it was in fact 8:59. Shit you were late. Cursing your snooze butten, you scrambled out of your bed and grabbed the cleanest clothes you could find off the floor and stumble as you attempt a whole new balancing act: pulling up your pants while holding a hot cup of coffee and a piece of toast dangling precariously from your teeth. As you run down the street towards the bus, slinging your backpack over your shoulder while you scramble to tuck your shirt in you promptly run into a solid wall and fall on your ass. Your hair is covering your face as you look up at  what you had plowed into, an apology already leaving your mouth when you got to the face. “Um…hi, uh…sorry about that.”

“Y/N. From YHSN?”

“Yes?” you become wary, no one around here really knows you as you chose to keep to yourself…“Do I know you?”

The grin that spread across the man’s face could be described as nothing less than cruel and vicious. “Yeah, Y/N L/N right? I am here to inform you that you have 24 hours to vacate the premises. Good luck.” He stated before unceremoniously dropping an envelope onto your lap and turning on her heel to leave you in a stunned heap on the floor.

What the hell had just happened? Maybe you were still dreaming?

You were dazed for a moment as your brain tried to compute the absolute absurdity of what had just happened and then you were on your feet chasing the man, yelling at him to stop but he just kept on walking.

Finally catching up to the man, you grab her arm, “What the fuck man?” you yell, “this is illegal as hell! Thirty days is the minimum!” You shove the notice back at the man, hitting him in her (very solid) chest hard.

“Y/n, Y/n, I see you're still full of venom huh? It’s completely legal actually-you see I” he leaned forward, “own the building now. And to my delight, what do I learn? I find out that Y/N L/N happens to be a tenant! Guess how happy I was to finally find you again after all these years and then get to have you vacate your home.” he laughs as you gape at him like a fish.

“Min fucking Yoongi, I do not have time for your petty ass childish bullshit! ” you hers, voice laced with venom.

“Aw kitten you remembered! I am truly honored! But alas I cant stay and chit-chat, and well, neither can you. Tata chica!” With that he jerks her arm from your grasp, sending you back to the ground in shock for the second time that morning, before climbing into an expensive black car and driving away.

You scream curses to the sky, because after 8 peaceful years, the man you had spent so long  running from and then finally forgetting, had found you. But of course, the sky only decides to rain. And as you trudge back home to call into work, (because seriously fuck this day) you can’t help but wonder how everything came to this moment. After a shower and change of clothes, you fall into your bed, allowing yourself one moment of respite before you begin to tackle this new problem, closing your eyes.

You were back there again, trapped both in a small body and the cave that haunts you as you watch helplessly at the rising water. Your tiny voice is raised, tinted with fear, “I told you we shouldn’t come here! My mama said-“

The boy next to you cut you off, “Crying ain’t gonna fix it, I will save us”

“You can't even swim,” You yell, unable to remain calm. 

“I AM GONNA SAVE US!” the small boy shouted, “so don’t cry Y/N.” He gave you a small smile, one that made you feel slightly safer and he took hold of your hand. “Follow me and don’t let go no matter what.”

“Okay,” you say, for some reason feeling braver after placing your faith along with your hand into the boy’s hand. He said he would, so of course he would save both of you. After all, he was your best friend and you don’t pick losers.

It was a lot harder though, when all was said and done. Yes, the two of you made it out of the cave alive, but not without nearly drowning, and you had slipped and injured your ankle along the way. Luckily, you did make it out, and while the two of you spent a cold wet night huddled together on the beach, you were alive. In the morning, you were rescued further as the search teams found. And while your mother had you wrapped up in her warmth and was crying and thanking the people over and over that had saved you, the same welcoming was not happening to the young boy. You could hear screaming as a woman in a fine dress and her husband yelled at the boy, your tiny hero, before there was a loud smack. You watch as the boy falls, hand clenched to her face, tears streaming down her face as her mother continues to land hard blows upon her body until she is dragged away. You cried out for you friend and as the two of you met eyes, for the first time you saw hatred reflected back at you. That was the day Min Yoongi stopped being your friend and became your tormentor.

He followed you everywhere, taunting you, breaking your things, and ultimately breaking you. Your mother finally quit working for her house the day he’d thrown your glasses into the garbage and you had come home, broken glasses in hand, face streaked with tears and reeking of garbage -you had finally confessed what had happened, what all had been happening. You had moved away, your mom working several jobs and then as well as yourself working, then you working to  pay your way through chef school and finally moving out into your own place. And all of it had just been destroyed because he found you.

You sigh looking up at your ceiling letting your anger consume you as you curse Min Yoongi to a lifetime of diarrhea. And an itchy butt. And you hoped her eyebrows fell out, just for good measure.

You look around your apartment one last time before closing the door with finality. this asshole, you think to yourself. “Just wait” you say as you look down at the address your brother had just texted you.

An hour later you stand before a gated house and ring the doorbell. And ring it. And ring it. And continue ringing it (after all it was nearly 6 am, and as you had learned that morning, if you want to ruin someone's day, do it first thing in the morning) until a sleepy figure stumbles outside and smacks your hand away. You take this opportunity to dart inside the gate and into the house carrying your things with you.

“What the hell do you think you're doing?” Yoongi yells at you from outside, beginning to stomp back to her front door. You could only grin as you take in the pajama bottoms and robe, while you stand there like a goddamn Amazonian queen, “You took my home. this is payback.” and then you dialed the police, “Yes? Officer? There’s a half naked man on my lawn, please send help! I’m so scared”

You couldn’t help the grin that covers your face as you smile at Yoongi, “Good luck asshole.” You say sweetly, before slamming the door in her face. Nothing had ever sounded so sweet as the sound of the lock turning over, followed a second later by desperate pounding at the door. And Yoongi could only pound on the door until the cops showed up and he explained that this was, in fact, her home, as well as that the intruder was actually you. The officers had asked him if he wanted you arrested and for once he let it go, telling them that you were having a lovers quarrel and apologizing that they had to come out over something so silly. As the cops pulled away, he went to the back of the house and slammed the sliding glass door open only to find the house seemingly empty. As he walked from room to room he couldn’t help but get angrier and angrier. But when he found you passed out on her bed, he paused, somehow her anger dissipating instantly. He stood there, looking at your sleeping body and wondered if you would ever know her real feelings for you. If he would ever be able to tell you. And the real question: could you forgive him? He knew it was asking a lot, but he could only hope. He sat and thought about how to express to you the things he needed to say. He wondered how exactly did one explain how guilty he felt about how he treated you, how he didn’t really understand why he went out of her way to make your life miserable back then…and then you had left him. How, when you left he realized just how broken he was inside. When he bought the building he couldn’t believe her luck when he saw your name as one of the tenants, but her old ways came back hard and for some ungodly childish reason he couldn’t control himself. That he should have been apologizing that morning and telling you how thankful he was that it had also brought you back to him. He guessed that it was far too late for him to ever have your forgiveness and he couldn’t help the smile that played on her mouth as he approached the bed. He reached out a hand to smooth back some hair that covered your face when you wherpered, “Yoongi...” he stilled, “…I’m sorry” you mumbled. What could you possibly be sorry for? He couldn’t help it, but it made him angry that you would apologize to him after everything he’d done and especially while in such a vulnerable state that the next thing he knew he was grabbing the blanket and ripping it away from your curled form. It’s momentum  sends you over the edge of the bed to land in a heap on the floor. You sit up cursing her very existence,

 “What the hell Y/N?!” He yells right back, while you could only manage to stare up at him from where you sat on the floor. But this time you weren’t having any of her bullshit. You jump up and get in her face “ What the hell? What do YOU mean what the hell? Who the hell buys a building solely to evict one person?! Are you that rich? Do you hate me that much?”

Yoongi yelled back, “Hell yeah I do!“ 

"You have issues, Min Yoongi! I did nothing to you except be born! Do you know how hard I worked to forget what you did to me? And you come just back,” you pause, swallowing thickly, you would not cry. Not here. Not now, “But not anymore! I won't let you break me again Yoongi. I am worth so much more than that!”

Exhausted, you  move to push around him but he grabs your wrists instead and pins you against the wall.

“Let me go you asshole!” you yell at him fighting back for once in your life, all while trying to hide your face and the tears that were no longer just threatening to spill over. “Can't you just hate me from a distance? I’m sorry your mom was a horrid cunt to you! I’m sorry, okay! But please, just let me go! Leave me alone” And then her hands were gone, and you were free. You couldn’t help it, you looked up and stared him in the eyes, for once determined to make him see how he wrecked you.

Yoongi could only stare at you, watching as the tears fell, tears once again caused by him, and then he heard the five words that ripped open her wounds, words he knew he deserved, said in a voice so broken he didn’t know where he should start to even attempt to repair it.

“I hate you Min Yoongi.“

He couldn’t stand it, he knew he deserved them but he just couldn’t stand there and just accept them. Accepting those words would be like giving up, and giving up probably the only pure thing he still had in her life. Had. And so he moved, not thinking about consequences, only a desire to cleanse those words from the air around him. He grabs you again, pushing you against the wall, capturing your face in one hand, forcing you to meet her eyes, while he brushes your hair away with the other, "Good. Never forget it.”

And then he crashes her mouth against yours.

You didn’t know how what was happening was happening and some stupid part of you was excited to have him pressed against you,  mouth was moving against yours and then you were responding and for some reason it felt so good–like coming home. It was like your body suddenly was against everything you wanted-you found yourself wrapping your arms around her neck and pulling him closer, deepening the kiss, a giggle bubbling up when you nipped at her lip and he groaned. and then you both were tearing at each other's clothes in desperation. And then the world stops making sense. You and Min Yoongi, enemy of the state #1 were having sex. And it was good. It felt so right, like you two had been made to fit each other only. When it was over he lay behind you, placing gentle kisses along your neck and down your collar bone. The last thing you remember before falling asleep in your enemy’s arms was Yoongi gently wherpering a muffled “I’m sorry” into your ear over and over.

When you wake, you are surprised to find an arm wrapped around your waist and you freeze as the memories of the night before come rushing back and you begin to mentally beat yourself up as you carefully slide out of the bed and grab your clothes, making a mad dash out of the house, dressing yourself along the way.

No way had you slept with Yoongi and enjoyed it. You were an idiot of the highest order. You slept with the man who wanted you homeless because he hated you.

You let out a deep sigh as you did a very new special walk of shame to your job, where your boss, Mandi greeted you by yelling, “Oi ! What cat pissed in your cheerios?”

Causing the other workers to laugh until you pinned them with your patented Crazy-eye ™, at which point they scurried away except for that moron Seokjin who slung his arm around your shoulders jovially, “So why is my favorite girl doing the walk of shame?”

You glare and shrug his arm off, “None of your business.” 

“Dude its obs-you’re like a whole 4 hours late-and you are never late. So what happened? Anyone I know?”

“You’ll just call me an idiot if I tell you.”

“I swear on cake I won't.”

You raise an eyebrow before saying a name you never thought you’d say just to see him eat his words. “Min Yoongi.”

“Shut the front door! You’re an idiot”

“The cake is ashamed of you and asks that you keep your distance.” You say as you move to the back rooms to put away your belongings.

Not giving up, Seokjin follows you, even going so far as to hand you your apron, “Seriously? Didn’t he like-”

“Terrorize me to the point of moving? Then find me years later and evict me? Yep.”

“Wow.”

“Yeah.”

“You okay?” Seokjin asked worriedly, For the shit talking between the two of you, you smile to know he does really care.

“I have to be.”

“Did you at least use a condom?” He asks.

“Oh my god.”

“You really are an idiot. But don’t worry…you know I’ve got your back right? Well, we’ve got your back.”

You could only stare at Seokjin as your mind whirls through the consequences of last night, “It should be fine right?” you ask.

“Sure, cupcake. Keep telling yourself that”

There is a ding from the door and you see your brother Jungkook shuffles in with your other brother Namjoon, and giving Seokjin a look that clearly says “Keep your mouth shut if you want to live” you take a deep breath and head behind the counter to wash your hands, greeting them as you go.

“COFFEE. COFFEE NOW.” Namjoon grunts demandingly, taking a seat and burying her head in her hands,  while Jungkook adds a half-hearted “Please…and a raspberry jelly for me.”

“Rough night?” You ask as you pour the two men coffee and grab Jungkook her donut and slide it in front of them.

Jungkook grins, “Nah, Joon thought he could out drink me. He thought wrong.”

“Shhhhhhhhh!! You’re so loud,” hersed Namjoon, shoving a hand at Jungkook’s face and missing entirely.

You grin and speak extra loud, “Shouldn’t you know by now to let the kids drink and you go home and sleep?”

Namjoon just glares at you, “I have a gun.”

“I aint scared of you.”

The shop bursts into laughter as Namjoon buries her head in her arms on the counter, “Why do you hate me so much?” He whines.

“Mom likes you more, and I’m a petty bitch.”

Jungkook grins, “But she likes me most!”

Both you and Namjoon glare at him, “Shut up!”

Yoongi wakes up to an empty bed and he frowns, crawling out of bed and pulling on her boxers. He wanders around the house looking for you, hoping that you haven't run away and when he can’t find you, her heart sinks. Was he that awful that you would still run away from him even after what you had shared? And worse, what if he had gone too far this time?

He makes her way back to her room and grabs her phone, calling her secretary.

“Yo.” Answered Hoseok.

“Really that’s how you answer the phone? You do know that I am your boss right?”

“Debatable today.”

Yoongi rolls her eyes, “Anyways, I need you to find someone…”

“Well you know Imma need a little more…”

“Y/N. You remember her right?”

“You mean the girl you tortured in school because you didn’t have the balls to tell her how you lurrrrrrrved her.”

“I see you wish to die today.”

“No, not today. So you wish for me to find your wayward love?”

“Yeah.”

“Mandi’s shop.” Hoseok cheerfully replied, as if this should be common knowledge. 

“Oh yeah, great idea bring me some coffee please?”

“No, you idiot, Y/N works there. She is actually her partner” Hosoek irritatingly says matter of factly.

“The hell?! Why do you know this but I don’t?”

“Dude, seriously? You do know they were friends growing up and just because you made her run away by being a complete ass doesn’t mean they stopped being friends.”

“My best friend and my sister have been lying to me.” 

“It’s not lying when you never asked. But Yoongi…you should let her go. It’s been a long time and I know you had feelings but with how you treated her–“

"She was here.” Yoongi grunted, running a hand over her face as he stood in her closet trying to think of what to wear. What says “I come in peace”? Maybe he could get Hoseok to dress up as Spock and talk to Y/N before he does. 

“What? And you’re alive?”

“Yeah. We…um…she was gone this morning,” Yoongi sits down on her bed, running a hand through her hair.

"Oh…” and as realization hits, Hoseok intones sagely,” ...oh my god you’re fucking moron.”

“You know I can fire you.”

“Please bitch, I know all your deepest darkest secrets you ain’t gonna fire me.”

“Just…shit…what should I do?” Yoongi asks, finally letting go of her big bad boss act.

“Dude, I don’t know. You slept with her…maybe you should just…”

“I um…fucked up more than that…” He thinks about how you had felt, how he had felt...how absolutely perfect it had been for just one night, A flicker of fear strums through her heart at the thought that this was not salvageable at all. 

“No. no way. Our friendship is over.” Hoseok cracks from the other side of the phone.

“Just help me okay?” 

There was a long pause before he heard a heavy sigh, “Fine, but no games. She has a good thing going on and you-”

“I swear it's different this time!” Yoongi pleads. 

“Whatever. I should warn you though.”

“Warn me about what?”

“Her brothers.”

“Namjoon and Jungkook? We were old friends, what about them?”

“You were old friends until they found out how you treated her. And bonus points-they are both cops now. Partners even, so you should probably pray for your soul.”

With a groan, Yoongi finally gets up and begins to get dressed putting Hoseok on speakerphone. “I’m so dead.”  

“Yep,” affirms Hoseok, “So does that mean I can have your stuff?” 

Rolling her eyes and thinking he really needs a new assistant, Yoongi growls out“See you at the office.” only to hear Hoseok laughing before he hangs up the phone. 

Yoongi finishes getting dressed, and running a hand over her face as he contemplates this new information. You’d been right under her nose the entire time and everyone had kept it a secret. He guessed he deserved it though, he was a complete and utter ass to you. He also guesses it’s time to make it up to you and hopefully, you would forgive him and let him into your heart, where he belonged. After all, you’d always been in his.

2 months later

Yoongi stands outside her (former) sister’s shop watching as you serve your customers, and realizes sadly that it was the first time in a long time that  he’d really ever seen you smile. He wanted that smile for himself and himself alone, but he wasn’t sure how to get it. When he had remodeled your former apartment, expanding it through the two vacant units on either side of you, you just got mad at him for evicting you, when he was just redoing the apartment and you claimed it was far too large for you by yourself now. But that was the point wasn't it? He was hoping that somehow you would just...come back to him on your own and he wouldn’t really have to put any work in. Yoongi realizes then that he is an absolute dumbass.

After all, nothing he’d done so far had managed to make you smile at him or hell just give him the time of day and he was beyond frustrated. Couldn’t you see how hard he was trying for you?

Mandi pokes her head out of the shop interrupting his train of thought,

“What the hell are you doing here?” she snaps at him.

“Wow, do you greet all your customers like this?”

“Yoongi. Listen. Whatever it this is about now isn’t–”

Realization hits for the second time that morning, “Were you ever going to tell me?”

Mandi pauses, looking him up and down, “There’s nothing to tell if you already know.”

He could almost feel the metaphorical walls slamming down around him as Mandi went on guard. “Mandi!”

“No. Not about ther.”

“I’ve known for almost a month.”

“Then you should go know somewhere else.”  Mandi stepped outside, becoming a most effective blockade. If someone was to ever wage war against his sister, his money, hell, his entire fortune would be on Mandi.

“Listen, you’re my brother and I love you and I know you know what you did wrong, and really it's sweet you want to make amends but …Yoongi, sometimes things…”

“I slept with her.”

“Do you want a trophy?” Mandi snapped, her fists clenched, before she  shook her head, “you have five seconds or I’m opening ther door and I’m calling her brothers out here.”

“We didn’t use protection.”

“Well then I guess today you die you little fucking weasel.”

“I love her.”

That’s when he remembered his sister’s left hook and then the lights went out.

Mandi stomps into the store grabbing you by the arm and dragging you upstairs ignoring your protests, shoving you into the bedroom and giving you a look reserved for her son’s Taehyung and Jimin when they are acting up. “Stay.”

Mandi goes back downstairs and motions Namjoon and Kookie over, “Listen, I know you hate Min Yoongi with like the passion of 7 fiery suns but I need you to hold that rage in and help me get his ass inside.”

Namjoon was already up and out the door at the sound of Min Yoongi’s name, and seconds later was dragging a barely conscious Yoongi in by the collar. While Kookie held open the door, Namjoon made sure Yoongi purposely whacked his head on the door frame and when Mandi winced he gave her a look that clearly said “sorry not sorry” before dropping Yoongi on the shop floor like the sorry sack of shit he thought he was.

“I’m sorry folks,” Mandi announces, “due to my crazy family, the shop will be closing early.”

The patrons all scrambled out of the shop while Jungkook handcuffed Yoongi to a chair and dumped a cup of ice water on him.

Yoongi jerked back, fully awake now and met by 3 pairs of eyes. 3 very angry pairs of eyes. He shook his head and tried to move but found himself handcuffed to the chair and he gives Mandi a look that says “Really?”

“Kook uncuff him. Seriously. And you and Joon leave.”

“No.”

“Did I stutter?”

“Okay, but we get dibs if you decide to kill him.” Jungkook, grumbles as he undoes the handcuffs.

“I’m not going to kill him. Today.”

“Fine.”

Jungkook finishes unlocking the cuffs and Yoongi immediately rubs at his wrists and watches warily as Jungkook and Namjoon leaves the shop, rolling his eyes when Jungkook gives him the international sign for “I’m watching you” while Joon drew his thumb across his neck. They were dramatic as fuck, but then again he might just be dramatically fucked.

Mandi pulls up a chair and sits across from Yoongi and stares at him for several long moments until Yoongi breaks the silence, “Just say it.”

“Why?”

“It just happened like that.”

“Bullshit.”

Yoongi sighed, “I’ve grown up since then. I no longer want to pull her hair.”

“Clearly. And you didn’t just pull her hair, you did a lot worse.”

“Shouldn’t you be on my side?”

“I am fucking Switzerland.”

Yoongi couldn’t help the anger that swelled up and choked him, “Clearly not. You knew where she was all these years and you never said anything. This is why you never let me come to the shop then? You knew I was looking for her, that I wanted-”

“Of course,” interrupted Mandi. 

“Why?”

“Because you are an idiot who doesn’t know how to communicate. Look at what happened--when you did find her, your first action was to take her home. Who fucking does that shit?”

“You’re right, I was. I was cruel and spiteful. Keyword: was.”

“Bullshit. Taking away her home wasn’t because you were being spiteful. You wanted what she had. That’s called envy. She left because she wanted to live, and the only way she could was to leave. You made it like this. I almost lost my friend. So of course I kept it a secret.” Mandi sighed, rubbing her hand over her face. “Look I know. I know what y

our mom and dad did. How they treated us. We were mere points on a checklist of creating a picture perfect family. But you had no right-”

“I was stupid. You think I don’t know? That I don’t regret it? I love her. I always have.”

“Actions-”

“Speak louder than words I know. I’m trying to fix that now!”

Mandi closes her eyes, debating her next few words  "Can I trust you? That’s the-“ ”

“Yes. I swear I'll spend my life…”

“Doing what?” You interrupt, “Sorry, since you seem to be discussing me I couldn’t stay put,” you say to Mandi. “Yoongi I don’t want your money and if you are worried because we didn’t…,” you swallow before continuing with a brave face, “....I’ll be fine. but you really have to stop sending me presents. I don’t want them. Can’t you just stay…”

“Y/N I’m sorry. I was an ass.”

“Still an ass.” Mandi interrupts, “Look, you two clearly need to talk this out so I’m out. Come on Seokjin, let’s go see a movie.”

With that Seokjin and Mandi beat a hasty retreat leaving the two of you alone.

“Your jaw is swelling.” You say after noticing the blossoming bruise that marred his handsome face. Handsome? What the hell were you even thinking?

“Mandi hit me.”

“Why?”

“I told her what happened. She’s very protective of you.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Y/N…that night…I shouldn’t have that.”

“I let you. It wasn’t just you alone.”

“Please, just listen. I’m sorry. For everything. And I’m sorry for not saying that when we met again. It's just…”

“It's just..what?” You questioned, meeting his eyes. 

“I don’t know. When I look at you I want you. You are so good and pure and you deserve the world. I wanted you to myself but I was scared…”

“Scared of?”

“You.”

“Me?” You scoff at the idea of anyone being afraid of you.

“Yeah,” Yoongi stood and walked over to you. “You had everything even though you had nothing. Brothers who worshiped you, a mother who did everything for you…what if I ruined that? What if my mother-”

“How would you ruin that?” You ask, finding patience from who knows where.

“I was messed up…and the older I got the worse…things got worse. You saw, you can’t pretend you didn’t. I took out my suffering on you because nothing good could possibly exist and you were just hiding your real nature. But you never retaliated. You kept reaching out to me over and over again. ”

“But I did retaliate.”

“By locking me out of my house after I took yours? Not really. I mean…I deserve far worse,” chucked Yoongi. He wanted so badly to touch you, to pull you into his arms and just...feel you. 

You stare at Yoongi. This broken version of Yoongi with tears in his eyes. Could you trust him? You wanted to give him a chance.

“Let’s….go on a date.”

Yoongi’s eyes widened, “What?”

“You like me right?”

“Well–I mean–I did when I was—I do”

“Take me on a date, final offer going in one–two..”

“Fine! I’ll take you on a damn date,” Yoongi smiles.

“No fancy shit tho. $100 limit.”

“I’ll take you on the best damn date of your life!”

“Good.”

Yoongi didn’t know why he was being snippy now, but as he left the shop he couldn’t help but do a little cheer when he got into his car. Hoseok rolled his eyes and politely ignored him.

Yoongi stood at the door of your apartment, and for the first time in his life he hesitated, hand poised to ring the doorbell, and then you swung open the door and suddenly the world stopped. You looked amazing. Your hair was curled, makeup accenting your eyes perfectly, wearing black skinny slacks, a hound’s-tooth patterned sweater over a white button down and pink heels. He took in the perfection that was you and thought, “She was made for me.”

And the fear was gone as he smiled at you and he took your hand, interlacing his fingers with yours, “Are you ready to go?”

“Yeah let me grab my purse,” you say as you try to let go of his hand to grab the bag on the chair beside your front door but he wouldn’t let go. You couldn’t help the blush that blossomed over your cheeks as he stepped inside and grabbed the bag for you and waited for you to lock up so you both could leave.

He pulled you along, never letting go, until he reached his car and opened the door. It was only enough time for him to run around and get the car moving before he was locking fingers with you again.

“What’s up with you?” You smirk.

“Just…making up for lost time.”

“What?”

“I just…I should have been doing this for years now.”

You couldn’t help but roll your eyes, “So…are you always this cheesy?”

Yoongi’s eyes went wide, “I mean…I’m not…no…,” Yoongi stuttered and then stopped, “I guess I am cheesy it's just…I can tell you I’m sorry but…”

“Actions speak louder than words?”

“I see you have met my sister,” he joked softly, “And we’re here.”

“A movie? Really?”

“I always had wished to take you…”

Yoongi’s eyes stared into yours, “Yoongi…” you say timidly.

“Yeah?”

“I’m not her anymore you know? I grew up…you grew up…let’s leave it behind us and start fresh yeah?”

“What do you mean?”

You stick your hand out, “Hi, my name is Y/N. It’s nice to meet you.”

Yoongi stared at you you’d suddenly sprouted a third eye on your nose before awkwardly taking your hand and shaking it, “Min Yoongi…the pleasure is all mine.”

You can’t help but laugh at his stunned expression, not knowing he was just in shock from receiving your smile. To him, your smile in that moment could have powered a thousand suns. 

Yoongi was quiet but still took your hand and you entered the theater with a smile on your face, happy that things were getting better, that you could almost believe you had your first love back.

2 hours later.

“Yoongi,  why are you pouting?” You ask as you take his hand.

“Look no matter how I look at it, it's just not fair.”

“What’s not?”

“Mandi. Seokjin. They have spent years with you…years that should have been with me.”

“I thought we were moving forward.”

“But.”

You sighed. “Look. You want to know the truth?”

Yoongi stopped and stared at you, “yes.”

“Okay then.” You face him, “You crushed me in every way possible. You were my world. I followed you everywhere. I trusted you, and you were always there and then you weren’t. The night we got stuck in the cave I gave you my faith—but it also is and was the moment I gave my whole heart to you, willingly, without any doubt. And the next day when we were found…you stomped on it. And you continued to stomp on it. I cried so many tears everyday because I hoped that one day my hero would come back. But he never did. He became a villain.” You couldn’t help the tears that fell down your cheeks, “And even through all that I still…” you sighed. “I can't do this Yoongi. I can't. I’m sorry,  I was wrong to try.” You turned on your heel and ran away, ignoring him yelling after you, you just ran until you couldn’t hear him anymore. 

And then you found the alcohol.

You sat at the outside bar drinking as you thought about the past two months. All the things you had done with Yoongi , and how disgusted you were with yourself for letting your old feelings come back so easily. You knew it wasn’t the right choice, but it was the one you wanted. You had decided to drown yourself in alcohol,  and you were on your third bottle when the object of your conflicting emotions, sat down across from you.

“Y/N.”

“Mmm?”

“What are you doing?”

“Drinking!” Your giggle turns to a frown when you hear the heavy sigh come across from you, “Are you judging me? It’s not nice to judge you know! “

“Why are you drinking Y/N?”

“Because,” you leaned forward, whispering conspiratively, “I’ve been bad.”

“Bad? How so?”

You sigh dreamily, a wistful smile playing upon your lips, “There’s this guy…”

“There always is.”

“Shhh! This is my story!” You shout.

“Sorry.”

“Where was I?” 

“Something about a guy…”

“SHHHHHH! So rude interrupting me! Anyways…I’m supposed to hate him but…” you thump your chest hard as tears prick your eyes, “But…”

“But what?”

“I can't…I remember him before…and the him that I remember…he’s still there…and all the warning alarms are going off and I’m so scared to love him but I…I think…”

“You think?”

You lay your head on the table, mumbling, “Think it’s too late…think I love him. Think it has always been too late for me. Even after all the bullshit…you see…he’s still here” You thump your chest hard and sigh as you feel the tears slide down your cheek to land on the table, “ I love him and I don’t want to…I didn’t mean too…”

“Mean to what?” 

“To love him, but…”

“You do.”

“Yeah” you whisper softly.

“Yoongi…” you can feel the man smile, you don’t know how you know but you do, “why do I have to love you?”

“You love me?” He asks, the hope wrapped in fear in his voice twisting your heart even more than all the past crap that had happened. You wanted to let it go. You wanted to love him. You can only nod your head as your eyes slide close, and you struggle against the darkness when you hear him whisper, “I love you too Y/N…I’m just scared…I’m not good enough…I was such an ass…and I know you said to let it go…but God Y/N…I should have treated you like a princess…because the truth is…”

Those words cause you to sit up, eyes squinting hard as you try to make out his face, “Yoongi?”

“Yeah?”

You lean forward and his face comes into focus, a smile spreads on your face and you lean forward to press your lips to his, softly at first, and then he responds, a hand sliding up your arm to cup your neck as you express to him what you can’t say in words. This was so much better than petty arguments and revenge pranks.  

You pull away, breathing heavy as you rest your forehead against his, “Yoongi,” you whimper, keeping your eyes firmly on the buttons of his shirt, scared to look up, scared to see the fear in his eyes. Does he not know?  “Can I…can I be yours?“ You ask in a voice so quiet it is almost lost in the noise of the world that surrounds you. 

"Can you forgive me?” The pain in his voice was sharp. “I forgive you.” You whisper into his mouth as you make promises with your lips.

He pulls away for a moment, and you lock eyes finally. “Then believe me when I say, I was always yours, and you were always mine.” 

“I was?”

The amount of disbelief in your voice causes Yoongi to tear up as he pulls you into his arms, “Kitten?”

“Yeah,” you say as you rest your head into the crook of his neck, breathing in his scent.

This time it was his turn to ask, “Am I yours?”

“You always were Yoongi. I was just waiting for you to remember where home was.”

Yoongi places the softest of kisses on each of your eyelids, and then he kisses away your tears and finally his mouth was on yours, and the kiss was full of yearning. “Y/N.”

“Yes?” You ask, sad he had pulled away. 

“Don’t leave me again…I love you too.”

“Okay.”

#bts scenarios #yoongi scenarios #min yoongi scenarios #bts enemies to lovers #bts smut

[jimlingss]

Moirai [2]

Chapter 1 - Chapter 2 - Chapter 3

➜ Words: 6.2k

➜ Genres: 60% Fluff, 40% Angst, Isekai!AU

➜ Summary: Death is supposed to be the end. Or at least that's what you assumed when you're hit by a TRUCK. But the moment you open your eyes again, instead of being sent to the afterlife, you've become a baby. And not just any baby. You're the female villain of a video game.

You turn the corner and dart down the hall.   “My lady!”   There’s a parade of maids chasing after you, Joan included in the bunch, and a frightened guard whose metal armour clanks with each movement. You grin, swinging your wooden sword around at them with a ‘huzzah!’. Pretending you’re a champion, you twirl around the pillar with one arm. But even with your theatrics, they’re still meters away and out of reach.   “Please! Come back! You have your dance lessons!”   You stick out your tongue. “Then catch me!”   It’s been one full year since you’ve started learning swordsmanship and admittedly, it’s become one of your most favourite times of the day. It beats sitting at a desk with the old fart droning on and on about dumb things you already know or having your posture criticized over and over again during dance lessons.    You’re frankly getting tired of having information and insults shoved down your throat.    Sword lessons are the only time you can be out in the sun and do whatever you want. You can tell that you’re improving too. It’s a pain in the ass to get the guards to take you seriously, but sometimes the tips and tricks they give are pretty helpful.   It’s fun.   Especially when there are people desperately chasing you.   “P-Please!” one of the girls cries out, running out of breath.   One of the best perks about being a five-year old is having endless energy in your body. And you’ll happily take advantage of that while you still can. “Pirates never give up! Argh, matey!”   But your play time is unfortunately interrupted by a deadpanning voice—   “What are you doing?”    The familiar sharp voice sends shivers up your spine and you freeze.   Your parade halts on their heels as well, immediately dropping their heads to the ground and placing one hand over the other reverently. “Your grace.”   “What is going on here?” Your mother’s footsteps echo through the marble hall, ball gown dragged behind her as her scrutinizing eyes lay on the help, the knight and then to you.   “I’m so sorry,” Joan is quick to confess, “The lady refuses to attend her dance practices.”   And she’s quick to throw you under the bus.   If you could, you’d stick up your middle finger at her.   Your mother turns, her glare laid upon you. You brace yourself.   “This is not how the future Devereux head should act.” Her voice is above a slight murmur, yet chilling and heavy. Her narrowed eyes have dimmed as they look upon you. She doesn’t need to yell to be frightening. “The Chevalier household has their youngest daughter playing piano and they recently went to the castle to show her talent. How will you compete, Anastasia?”   “I—”   “Or will you continue to tarnish our family’s name by being a child?”   You are a child. Technically.    The woman looms over you, her demeanour imposing and the burden of the household’s name lays upon your shoulders. You can’t help but feel small. It’s no wonder Anastasia took the Prince’s kindness as love and fell for him so quickly. Moments with him were her moments of freedom.   You stay quiet, solemn, knowing it’s not worth arguing. Your eyes instead focus on a younger maid who’s silently snickering to herself and before you can make note for later, your vision blurs.   “From now on, your swordsmanship lessons will be retracted until you’ve caught up with the rest of your lessons,” she says while looking straight ahead, not sparing you a glance. “The only places you are to be permitted in for the next month is your room and the study—”   It’s unfair. A punishment that doesn’t fit the crime.   But your voice doesn’t come out of your mouth.   The world tilts on an axis. It swirls. Your head is lightweight.    And before you could figure out what’s happening, there’s a shrill cry for you — “my lady!” — and you feel yourself falling back before the universe becomes pitch black. An abyss of nothing.   //   “Why did she faint?!”   When you come to, your first thought is that you’ve died. Again.   Illness. Heart attack. Maybe from the plague.    Fuck.   It’s frightening and you feel an urge to cry, knowing that you yet again didn’t complete your goal of living a long and fruitful life. That the years spent fighting for your survival were ultimately useless. But then you hear far away voices and realize your fingers can twitch. The soft mattress underneath you registers soon after and it sinks in that you’re in your room, bedridden.   “Well….your grace…”   “On with it! I didn’t bring you here to waste my time!”   “Herrick…”   Oh right. It’s the Eve of the Solar Festival, isn’t it? A day where commoners celebrate the empire and wish for its everlasting prosperity. You remember since you’ve never gone before. Around this same time last year and the year before that, you fell ill in the exact same way — cold, chest aching, dizzy spells.    It’s odd. Usually you aren’t so weak and yet somehow, you always get better in the morning once the festival is over. You don’t remember this ever being mentioned in the original game either. Or at least Anastasia never said anything about it and she would’ve totally milked it for the Prince’s attention if she could’ve. But maybe it’s an outside detail. Something the game developers were going to include in a future DLC.   “We don’t know what’s happening to the lady, your grace,” the healer says.   Your father bellows from his stomach, “Excuse me?!”   “H-Her pulse reads well and she has no fever either. I-It’s a very unusual case.”   In your half-consciousness, you perceive the bitter silence.    “Heal her at all costs.” Your father’s footsteps fade and your mother sighs.   You wish you couldn’t hear. Otherwise, it would be easy to demonize the pair as unsympathetic, psychopathic parents who only consider their daughter a chess piece. You’re sure the only reason they’re expressing so much concern is because you are the only heir after all. They really have no future if Anastasia dies.    But it’s still hard to quell the hope that they actually care for your wellbeing.    Still, you wish you couldn’t hear their desperation. It wouldn’t have to be so conflicting. Or bittersweet. The only time they show an ounce of their affection is when you’re on your deathbed.   You muster the strength to open your eyes once everyone’s left the room.    Most likely, you’ll live through this. You still have yet to have any of the game’s encounters or even start. Anastasia was alive for most of it, enough to terrorize the main character, so you’ll live too.   Shit. When does the game start again?   The opening scene was right before the debutante ball was held for all the girls in the empire.   You count on your fingers — give or take, there’s twelve or thirteen years left….   But you remember from the wiki fan page that Anastasia became engaged to the Crown Prince when they were kids.    Oh god. If you weren’t so weak, you’d roll over and scream into your pillow.   There’s an unsettling feeling boiling in the pit of your stomach.   No matter how much effort you put forth, you don’t know how you’re going to avoid that arrangement.

Turns out, it’s unavoidable.   It begins two years later at seven years old, the D-day that you were dreading, the first domino that begins all the others.   “No! Please!” The entire household is stunned at how you’ve grabbed onto the Duke’s leg and wrapped your limbs around his appendage, practically dead weight and not allowing him to move a single step.    All your life, you’ve kept a good amount of distance between your parents — never daring to overstep your boundaries or sass them back no matter how much you wanted to. It’s more trouble than it’s worth anyway and it’s better to play on their good side.   But you’ve thrown in the towel. This is your last desperate attempt.   “I’ll be good, I promise I’ll go to all my dance lessons and all my history lessons and all my math lessons. Please, papa! Please!” You’re practically crying aloud. You wish someone would help you. “I don’t want to go to the Royal Palace!”   Edith is shaking her head while Joan is mortified at the sidelines.   Your mother’s expression is twisted in disgust while your dad is wholly aghast. Hey — it’s not like you wanted to do this either, alright?!   But your pleas fall on deaf ears. To them, it’s merely the whining of a child. A temper tantrum.   “My lady, please stop this,” Joan harshly whispers and rushes to pry your grip off of the Duke’s leg. Several others come too, maids and kitchen staff alike. Your strength is no match for theirs.   “My stomach hurts!”   Your father has no sympathy. “We’ve delayed enough times, Anastasia. If we postpone the meeting with the King again, it would be shameful to our house. Now get up.”   He’s done hearing the excuses — and while you’d usually internally call him out for being an ass, the moment you heard he wanted to take you to the palace, you did claim you have a fever.    Then you claimed diarrhea. A cough. Hid for several hours.   You’re actually surprised you managed to delay it for this long.   “There’s no choice, my lady,” Joan mutters quickly as she fixes the ribbons in your pretty hairdo. “You must go with the Duke today.”   Deep down, you know it’s true. You’ll be pulled along anyhow.    But you wish they would understand that this is a matter of life and death for you.   Your silence is a sign of raising the white flag and Joan retracts back to her place as your dad turns to leave the manor. He adjusts his hat as he’s escorted to the carriage and you’re about to trail after him, but your mother stops you.   You expect her to reprimand you, give an earful of what you should and shouldn’t do. But you’re surprised when she lowers herself down to your eye level.    She catches you off guard when she reaches out to button up your pea coat, attentive and careful in each swift movement. “This is a really important meeting, Anastasia. Do you understand?”    Her voice is soft, quiet enough that no one else aside from you can hear. You nod.   “You must be on your best behaviour. Your father, me, all the workers here, and the whole House of Devereux will be relying on you.” Wow. Way to not pressure a seven year old. “Today is the day that might change our lives for the better.”   As she finishes buttoning, her hands stroke your shoulders down your arms. The Duchess smiles gingerly, tiredly. For a moment, you feel guilty for being so selfish — for prioritizing your own survival and desires when everyone else was quite literally relying on you for their livelihood.   You find yourself swallowing hard before nodding again.    You get into the carriage without another word.    Well fuck. What now?   A part of you wishes you ran away when you had the opportunity — even though there was a good chance you would’ve been kidnapped and sold at an underground market or gone hungry or be shipped back right to your parents. Ashea, like any other place, doesn’t take kindly to wandering children.   But at least then you would’ve had more control and choice.    You know this isn’t just a fun field trip to the palace. The only reason the Duke and the King would meet like this is to seek an engagement. Your engagement with the Prince’s.    Half an hour later, you peek out the carriage windows to see the castle at the horizon.   Stone walls, seven towers, lookouts, the empire’s flag fluttering in the breeze — it’s a beautiful place with rolling green hills and beds of flowers that wind up the path. It’s a hundred times more grand than the Devereux estate and ten times the size too, stretching across for miles. But it’s also the location where all of it happens.    The beginning. The climax. The end.   “Anastasia.”   Your attention is taken when your father steps off the carriage. You take the servant's hand and hop down onto the cobblestone, following your father closely. He greets an important person or two and you lower your head to them in greeting as they complement how mannerly you are.   The two of you are led through open, lavish halls full of life-sized portraits and marble statues, and then through the garden. Even in both your lifetimes, you’ve never seen so many different kinds of flowers and vivid hues in one place.    Pansies. Orchids. Marigold.    Magenta. Lavender. Marmalade.   But you don't get to admire it for long. Not when the gazebo comes into sight.    A man with straight posture, dark hair streaked with gray to show his age and deep set eyes sits at the rounded table. Even with the absence of his crown, his status is shown through his navy cape ornate with golden swirls held together by an emerald jewel embellished with the royal crest. Wrinkles around his mouth, he has a fiercely stern expression until he cordially smiles as your father approaches.    Beside him is a spitting image, a smaller boy slumped in the white chair, visibly bored.   “Herrick! Good to see you, my old friend.”   “Your Majesty.” Your father bows and you follow suit, giving a curtsy and lowering your head. But at the same time, you can’t help peeking at the boy. His eyes meet yours and you look away.   Oh fuck.   It’s the first meeting between the Prince and Anastasia.    You’re sure for her it was impactful, nerve wracking, life changing. And it’s like that for you as well, but not so much on the positive side.   “Please, the formalities. Is this the daughter you've been speaking so highly about?”   “Yes, this is my only child, Anastasia.”   You plaster on a perfect, little smile. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Your Majesty.”   The King hums. “A very lovely child indeed. The Devereux House is blessed.”   The Duke smiles. “Thank you.”   “Please sit and make yourselves welcome.” The King gestures and the servants nearby scurry over, pulling out your chairs, pouring tea and placing plates of biscuits on their table. In a blink, they’ve finished and you can’t help but muse how much better they are than the servants back at home. The King smiles and looks at his son. “Jungkook, don’t you have anything to say?”   “Nice to meet you,” he deadpans before his doe eyes wander out to the gardens.    Jungkook is wholly disinterested in you and this entire affair — you don’t blame him. You bet any seven year old would be itching to get out of their seat. But looking at him, you can’t believe you liked him so much in the game. You even had him as your phone wallpaper for a few months.   But from the perspective of Anastasia and knowing your outcome and your impending demise, he’s not even cute as a kid.   If anything, sitting across from him stresses you the fuck out.   You weren’t supposed to even meet him. This was the exact opposite of your battle plans. And yet the engagement is going to happen whether you like it or not. The greatest irony of all is that you know he’ll end up falling in love with the main character anyway instead of you. Aka. the orphaned girl who ends up adopted by a baron.   This whole ordeal only serves to make you suffer.   The only way you could sabotage this meeting now is by slamming the teapot over Prince Jungkook’s head. And that would either get you thrown in jail for treason and executed or sent back to the Devereux estate on house arrest where your mother would kill you.   Oh god. It’s death either way.   “Are the sweets not to your liking?”   It takes a second for you to register that the King is looking at you. That he’s speaking to you.   You go wide-eyed, realizing you haven’t had a bite of the cakes, the biscuits or sipped on any tea. You’ve completely tuned out their conversation. But he’s been watching you and Jungkook from the corner of his eye, assessing your interactions closely.    Your palms go clammy as you open your mouth before closing it.    “She’s just shy,” your dad swiftly informs with a polite smile. It’s a complete lie, but one the royal monarch believes.   “Ah. We shouldn’t bore them with adult talk then.” The man turns to his son. “Jungkook, why don’t you go off and play with Anastasia here?���   “Okay,” he mumbles and slides off his chair.   You follow suit, a bit relieved that you were dismissed from the overly formal atmosphere.   The two of you go deeper into the gardens until the gazes of your father and the King’s fade from view. Jungkook is wearing a white ensemble with a cape which he dirties with the way he’s kicking rocks in his path. He seems burdened that you’re beside him.   “What do you like playing?” he asks.   You’re perplexed on how to answer. You’re not sure how you should play with an actual seven year old. Then again, you like to run away from the maids and swing your sword around on your down time. But that’s just because you like their reactions.   “Sword fighting.”   Jungkook blanches as if he just bit into a lemon. “What kind of girl plays with swords?”   Suddenly, you’re overwhelmed with an urge to kick the royal prince right in his shin.    But as the annoyance floods you, an epiphany comes along with it — if you can’t avoid Jungkook, maybe it’s time to switch strategies. Maybe you can start sowing the seeds of your future survival right here, right now. If one day, he’ll be condemning you of countless crimes and looking down at you as an evil villain, maybe you can turn his perception in the opposite direction.   Harmless. Overbearingly nice. Arrows that practically point ‘I’M NOT A THREAT WHATSOEVER!’.    You’re a genius.   You force the highest pitched giggle you can. “Really?”   Jungkook kicks another rock. “Girls have flimsy arms and trip every time you touch them.”   Ah. The ancient version of: girls have cooties and so you should stay away from them. Alright, alright. You can work with this.   “What do you like playing, Your Highness?”   “Anything that’s not with girls.”   You pause and laugh, hoping it doesn’t sound too stiff.   Jungkook suddenly lifts his head and turns to you with the swivel of his heel. You stop as well and his index finger juts right in your face. “Since I’m the prince, I’ll have mercy on you. We can play servant and king.”   “What’s servant and king?”   “I’m the king.” His thumb pokes himself and then he’s back to pointing right between your eyes again. “You’re the servant. You have to follow me and all my orders or off with your head!”   What a little shit.   How is this going to be any fun for you?!   But you draw an enormous grin on your face, left eye twitching in the process. “Sounds like fun, Your Highness!”   He strolls off. “Let’s go, dumb dumb.”   Your teeth grit and you inhale a deep breath. It hurts your pride to be insulted by a literal seven year old, but you can handle it. When it comes to life or death, you’ll easily befriend the hero.   “Fetch that stick, peasant!”   The prince points at the distance and looks at you expectedly.   Your teeth grit. But you muster a smile and dash forward.   When it comes to life or death, you’ll befriend the hero……….probably.   “Here you go, Your Highness.”   You present the stick to him with both hands and the brat smirks. A rush of air leaves his nose and then he takes the stick. You’re not sure what to expect, but your entire body freezes when he hurls it as far as his arms can go. He points between your brows a second later. “Go get it!”   Motherfucker. “Yes!”    Once Jungkook’s tired of having you fetch like a dog, you trail after him closely. The green hedges are triple your size, acting like corridors of the garden before they open up to certain areas filled with beds of flowers or a fountain. Some paths are unpaved, so you listen to the crunch of rocks underneath his shoes amidst the quiet.    When you’re not out of breath and running at his command, it finally sinks in that it’s the first time you’re with a main character of the game. For the seven years of this lifetime thus far, there was only really you. Your parents were supporting characters at best who just took the opportunity to slyly diss the main heroine a few times at royal gatherings. But other than that, you’re currently facing the backside of someone you know a lot about.   Who he will become. What his future holds. What his desires are.   You pipe up, “Prince Jungkook—”   “That’s Your Highness, peasant!”   You clench your jaw. “Your Highness…”   “What?”   You quicken your steps until you’re beside him and he turns his head. “I’ll support you forever if you want to fall in love with anyone! I don’t care about being the crown princess or the queen!”    For good measure, you flash a wink and a thumbs up.   “What?” His boyish face is twisted up in disgust. “Why would a peasant be a queen?”   You hold in your sigh. “I’m just saying. If we ever get engaged or something, it can always be annulled when we’re older. So feel free to love on, Your Highness. Make love, not war!”   Your words completely fly over Jungkook’s head.   His face reads that he has no clue what you’re talking about.   And he turns away from you. “You’re weird.”   You scoff.    You’re not sure how you can become friendly with a seven year old when you’re internally twenty years older than he is. If you had chocolate on you, you’d use that as a bargaining chip. But clearly, you only have your body, brain and the surroundings at the moment….   What do seven year old boys like?   What do they like?   As you scan your surroundings, your eye catches something in the bushes. You stop and get closer.   At the same time, Jungkook realizes you’re not following him anymore and turns around. “What are you doing, peasa—” His words are cut short by a shrill shriek of absolute terror.   Your brows furrow and you thrust your hand closer to him. “It’s a ladybug.”   The tiny red and black polka dotted bug is crawling in your hand. Jungkook screams again.   He’s stumbling back, nearly tripping onto his butt, doe eyes reflected with complete horror as if you just chopped off his mom’s head. “Get that thing away from me!” his voice cracks up and down two different octaves and realizing his weakness, you grin.   You know your plan was to seem as harmless as possible, but it’s just too much fun teasing him.   “What thing, Your Highness? Your servant is merely showing you a small forest creature.”   “No! Stop!”   He scrambles and starts running away.   You chase after him while giggling manically. “Prince Jungkook! Where are you going!”   “Get the bug away from me!”   He turns over his shoulder with eyeballs nearly falling out of their sockets, face bright red, and you take the opportunity to toss the ladybug at him. Jungkook’s shrieks echo, pitched and earsplitting.   You’re forced to stop with how hard you’re laughing and by then, he’s ran for the hills, completely gone from sight.   Oh god. You can’t believe he’s so scared.    You can’t believe you were so scared — he’s just a kid.   Your giggles taper off as you wander the gardens by yourself. It’s freeing to stroll at your own pace without a brat demanding you to fetch sticks or barking at you to do this and that. It’s a chance to finally admire the surroundings.   You’re sure the first time Anastasia saw the castle, it became her dream home. The place is similar to the aesthetic background graphics of the game and it was always described as beautiful by all the characters. And it really is that way.   But this is also the place of her demise and possibly yours.    You’re sure the only time you’ll be able to enjoy the palace and be this carefree is right now.   You’re admiring the blooming carnations, peony and roses as you turn the corner. The figure standing by the sprouting fountain doesn’t register until after a delayed moment and your eyes lift to see a woman — mysterious in her gray dress. It’s simple attire, but the fabrics are layered on top of one another, light enough that they drape down and flow to the breeze. Her brunette hair is tied into a bun and as if she feels the pressure of your eyes, her bright irises turn towards you.   You realize you’re staring and you blink several times, approaching her politely.    She pulls her charcoal shawl closer to her and smiles. The light wrinkles around her kind eyes crease. “Are you lost, child?”   You shake your head. “No. I’m just looking.”   She crouches down to match your height, gazing at you tenderly. “Where are your parents?”   “My dad’s talking to the King.” You point off in the distance as curiosity eats at you. She doesn’t look like an ordinary worker but not a visitor of the castle either. “I’m Anastasia.”   She searches your expression as if she’s endeared by you. “That’s a beautiful name.”   “Thanks! Who’re you?”   She’s soft-spoken, voice above a quiet murmur, “My name is Erena Robane.”   You frown. The name rings a bell. “Lady Robane?”   “No.” Her laugh tinkles. “I’m no lady.”    Before you can press your mind any further and pick apart your brain at why her name sounds so familiar, she reaches into the small pouch she was carrying and hands you a wrapped piece of candy. “Would you like one?”   Your eyes light up at the pink square. “Yes, please!”    You know better, as an internal twenty seven year old, than to take candy from strangers, but the Duke and Duchess never give you any sweets. So you’ll happily take what you can.   Erena smiles and drops the treat into your outstretched palm.   Not wanting to risk getting it confiscated by Edith, Joan or your mother if you brought it home, you quickly unwrap it and throw it into your mouth. It’s peppermint and it’s pretty damn good.   The woman looks at you patiently, waiting for a reaction, so you give her a thumbs up and a “Yummy!”   She laughs faintly. “Do you like candy?”   “Yep!” You hold out both hands as if you’re trick-or-treating. “Can I have another one, please?”   Might as well seize the chance while you can. It’s a dog-eat-dog world.    “You have very good manners.” She smiles, taking another out of her endless pouch and dropping it in your hand. Oh man, you’re starting to really like this lady. “My son likes chocolate, but I only managed to get candy for today.”   You chew the hard candy in your cheek, crunching down on it. You hope it rots your teeth and makes Edith’s life a living nightmare when she has to deal with it. “Your son?”   Her lips part to speak. But she’s interrupted—   “Mom?”   By sheer coincidence and coincidence itself, a boy with floppy, brown hair turns the corner of the garden. Thin lips, but chubby cheeks and bright eyes of deep mocha. You’ve known him the second your eyes have laid on him. A younger form of the person you fear most.   Taehyung.   You gasp and immediately spin around, hoping he didn’t see you, pretending you didn’t see him.   “I have to go now!”    Before Taehyung’s mom can utter another word, you run away. You don’t notice how Taehyung slows as well, brows furrowed at your receding form.   To see Jungkook is one thing. But to see Taehyung, the one who will use, coerce and lead you to your doom, is another. Jungkook handed down your judgment, but Taehyung is the one who led you there.   He’s the villain.   //   “You did decently,” your mother informs a few days after the whole affair. “We might have to go to the palace more often from now on.”   You nod, unable to dwell in her approval, mind still lost in a daze.    Taehyung — a half prince born a year before Jungkook. He has the blood of a royal with his father as the King, but his mother is merely a palace maid. You remember that he seeks revenge for her death after she’s poisoned by the jealous Queen.   But if she’s still alive, that means it’ll happen soon.   This year.    Springtime.    You’re slowly recalling the details of the event, the catalyst that begins Taehyung’s descent into madness, how he became the game’s villain. But you can’t involve yourself. You just can’t.   You shouldn’t have met any of them in the first place.   You shouldn’t get entangled in their story, in their lives. If you want to live, if you want to survive, you have to avoid Taehyung at all costs. So you can’t. You can’t. Can’t.   A day passes as you focus on your studies.   You can’t.   Another two days goes by, six meals eaten.   Can’t—   On the seventh, your silver spoon clanks noisily against the porcelain bowl, slipping from your grasps, dropping downwards in your deep trance that throbs your temples. Joan turns at the ruckus and you look at her, already standing up.   “I have to go to the castle.”   The guilt eating at you has won its battle.    “Pardon me?”   “Today. Right now.” You rush out of the room and down the hall, determination set in your strides. Maybe you can avoid this. Maybe if you do, he won’t become the game’s villain. Then he won’t be a threat to you, and you won’t be a threat to anyone. You’ll live and so will his mom who’s done nothing wrong.   The maid struggles to catch up to you. “My lady! Please! Wait! What do you mean?”   “I forgot something really important!”   “Y-You can’t just go. My lady! You must ask permission from the Duke and Duchess!”   “There’s no time to.” You’ve never been more serious and somber. There isn’t an inch of mischief, no childish selfishness. Twenty seven years has amounted to this very moment. And you use your status as the Duke’s daughter to command the girl. “Come with me. If the Duke or Duchess gets mad, I’ll take the blame.”   Joan sighs, annoyed as she looks around as if someone else could reason with you. But as you turn to her, looking her dead in the eye, she shifts on her feet and hesitantly calls for a carriage.   You’re in it before you can blink again.   There must be time. There hasn’t been any news yet. No reports of a death in the castle.   You can warn him. You can avoid this tragedy.    “We’re here, my lady,” Joan informs, peering out the window at the enormous stone walls and towers looming high above the clouds. The carriage doors open and she guides you out.    Your feet land onto the cobblestone.    But there isn’t any welcome. No guards that ask what your business here is. No servant passing by.   Instead, there’s chaos in the distance.    Your head whips to the noise and Joan shouts as you dash off towards it. Yet no one notices you in the midst of the pandemonium. No one would pay mind to a small child. You’re left to linger in the open halls, butlers that quickly walk past, maids whispering amongst themselves—   “Did you hear?”   Your head turns towards two girls.   “The King’s mistress just died!”   You came a moment too late.

No one cries.   The arrangement is short and unluxurious, the bare minimum of what would be acceptable for a royal family. A priestess in front drones on impassively about the afterlife, but as you look around, no one grieves. After all, they wouldn’t shed tears for a mere maid.    This is merely a charade to quell away scandalous rumors and to give nobles an excuse to come to the castle and be acknowledged.   You’re overwhelmed in black, a tulle skirt and puffed sleeves. Your parents stand on either side of you, your father in a jacket with the house’s emblem and your mother with a veil covering the right side of her face. Like many others, your family has come for appearance sakes.   But for you, it’s different.   The woman inside the closed casket has shown you a kindness that you so seldom receive.   And because of your hesitation, because of your self-preservation and selfishness, this happened.   Once the burial ceremony is over, your parents mingle amongst the nobles, laughing cordially behind gloved hands as you follow after them and cutesy. It feels like you’re a show pony, brought around to show what the future of the Devereux looks like.   But after a while, you manage to slip away from the scrutiny.    And by sheer coincidence and coincidence only, you find him.   At first it’s the noise of heart wrenching sobs. It’s unrestrained wails and choked hiccups in between that attracts your attention. You twist through the familiar hedge corridors and the moment you turn the corner, your eyes lift to a small figure underneath an oak tree.    He sits alone. He cries to himself.    The boy with floppy, brown hair has his knees pulled together. He incessantly rubs at his eyes as if that alone could stop the tears that well and pour. He cries enough for the tens of people at the funeral, substituting their apathy with his anguish. His entire body wracks and the moment he whimpers “m-mom” in-between, it’s shaking to your core.    This is the beginning. The start of his path of destruction.   In this entire castle that stretches across the horizon, only his mother ever loved him. The half-prince. The Forgotten Prince. The one dirtied by regular red blood, not blue enough for the golden crown.   Taehyung mourns, vision blurred by his grief.   But as he rubs his eyes with his small fists, black shoes appear between the gaps of his hands.   He looks up. Your arm is extended in front of him.    Taehyung looks down to your folded, pink handkerchief. He looks stunned for a moment, as if he’s surprised that there was someone here. That someone actually heard him. That someone came.   He takes your handkerchief and sniffles.   “I’m sorry,” you murmur.    Sorry that she passed away, that he has to endure this, that you didn’t save her when you could’ve.   This isn’t just a game you’re playing anymore. All these people aren’t just characters.   You’re living a new life. And all these people have emotions, desires, thoughts of their own.   You’re not sure how you can comfort Taehyung. What you can say to make it better. “Your mother loved you a lot. I’m sure she wouldn’t want you to be crying so much by yourself.”   He hiccups, snivelling uncontrollably. “B-But if I don’t cry for her, who will?”   You don’t know what to say.   Tears continue to slip down his cheeks and as you linger awkwardly, you decide there isn’t much that you can say. So you sit beside him. You sit underneath the canopy of the tree and branches of rustling leaves, on the soft bed of grass, looking out at the garden.    This is all you can do.   You don’t notice the way Taehyung looks up in-between his mourning, glossy eyes pinpointed on the profile of your face.    The pair of you sit next to one another in the silence of his sniffles until it levels. Until he can breathe again—   “Anastasia!”   There’s a sharp call of your name, one that can only belong to your mother. You immediately come to your feet again as if a dog whistle has been blown. But as you hurry away, you turn over your shoulder. Your eyes connect with Taehyung’s brown ones, and for a moment you slow.   You leave a second later.   You twist down the hedges and turn the corner, nearly bumping straight into her. She looks down at you with her brows furrowed. “Where did you go?”   You smile. “I got lost.”   It’s futile. You know it now.   Trying to avoid the three that will lead you to your demise is like trying to wish you’d suddenly vanish off these lands. You know it won’t be the last time that you see Taehyung. It won’t be the last of Jungkook either. Or whoever the heroine will be. It seems like the more you try to run, the more you inadvertently become involved. But you’ll hold your head up high and face whatever is to come head on.

#bts fanfic #bts scenario #jungkook fanfic #taehyung fanfic #jungkook scenario #taehyung scenario #jungkook fluff #taehyung fluff #BUT WHO'S GONNA BE THE ENDGAME GUY HMMMM?

[katnissmellarkkk]

Andddd here’s my chappy three thoughts 🥳🥳🥳

Hmmm Katniss saying that her mother has a dress made of velvet is actually really interesting because it shows that Mrs. Everdeen Lily-Rose really was well-er off before she married Katniss’ father Hunter.

Or did she get the velvet dress from Maysilee? Oh well, who knows.

Aww, Katniss’ nervous habit of touching soft things repeatedly to soothe herself 🤧🤧.

“Crying is not an option. There will be more cameras at the train station.” — someone tell that to Peeta 🤣🤣🤣.

Okay I gotta stop picking on Primmers, I know but like. How small is she that she sits on Katniss’ lap like a toddler but then in the following year is the same height as her? Doesn’t matter I know but still I wonder.

Okay so Mrs. E is the doctor for the people of the Seam? Idk I never thought about this but who does people like Peeta or Madge or Delly go to if they’re sick or hurt? Is there a still running apothecary shop that Katniss never mentions? Are her grandparents still running the family biz?

Also okay, I gotta stop having so many thoughts on all the lil details I know but like. Katniss says here she’s familiar with the herbs her mother doesn’t grow on her own so like a). Katniss is more of a healer than she leads on because no average person knows what kind of plant is medicinal and b). Her mother is just growing herbs and Katniss never mentions it again in the whole series? Or I just missed it.

Okay imma move on from this one singular paragraph but Gale and her made a pact a year ago that they’ll supply each other’s family with game if they were to be reaped... I’m feeling like their close friendship is probably only one year old then? Idk. Just my interpretation.

Honestly I love Katniss getting mad at her mom here.

She’s sixteen, for God’s sake, of course she’s angry at what her mother’s illness put her through.

Also I lowkey like that her mother got mad back because that lady in the movies had zero personality.

“Boys who are two to three times my size.” She sounds so little, omg 🥺🥺🥺.

“I don’t care if we’re rich, I just really want you to come home” 🤧🤧🤧😩😩😩😩 okay Primmers, you got me here.

“the Peacekeeper is at the door, signaling our time is up, and we're all hugging one another so hard it hurts and all I'm saying is ‘I love you. I love you both.’ And they're saying it back...” this is so sad leave me be 😫😫😫😫

Katniss is burying her face in a pillow to block out her emotions this is too much for me 🥵🥵🥵

Omg I forgot Peeta’s father visits Katniss 😅

Why does he visit Katniss?

She describes Peeta’s father as a “big, broad-shouldered man.” And then describes Peeta as stocky. Idk the comparison of the two descriptions has always led me to think Peeta is gonna be a big dude when he grows up like his father. This made no sense and had zero correlation but I thought, so I said it, no regrets

Oh he brought her cookies 🤧

WAIT WAIT WAIT. I just had a new thought, y’all. What if instead of the baker bringing cookies being a thing he does for all tributes, what if he’s bringing the cookies because Peeta asked him to, because he made them and wants to give them to Katniss and knows she’ll never accept / trust them coming from her competition? What if that’s the real reason the baker visited her in the first place? Because Peeta asked him to? This was such a shipper comment but idc, no regrets, remember?

Omg Peeta’s father is just mute 🤣🤣🤣

Between an abusive, angry mother and a mute for a father, the Mellark brothers must have had a fairytale of a childhood 😅😅😅😅.

But seriously #PoorPeetaMyBaby

Aww Peeta’s father is gonna help keep Prim alive 😭

Omg I just remembered he’s her mother’s ex boyfriend. Haidon Mellark, as I named him in my fics.

That one fic where he was thought to be Prim’s real father is just playing now in my head, rent free.

But does Katniss not realize that he may be offering to help Prim as a favor to her? Like she claims Prim is just so wonderful people adore her but there’s like zero evidence in the text that make her endearing? Okay I need to turn this bus around, I need to find a love for Primmy Deen.

Madge is not one for preamble apparently. No “hi, how are you? I’m sorry you’re gonna die? What will your last meal be?” Just right to “here, wear this family heirloom of mine, k thanks.”

I like that Madge had to kiss her cheek for Katniss to realize they were friends 😅😅😅.

I remember always loving her and Gale’s hug here. I’ve always felt like it was platonic, but especially when I first read the books and had zero preference one way or another for Gale or Peeta, I really liked how she said even with nothing romantic between them, “when he opens his arms, I don’t hesitate to go to him” or something I’m paraphrasing ok I’m lazy

Also though, this is the first time they’ve ever hugged? Idk why that surprises me? It shouldn’t because where is a hug gonna fit into a hunting trip 😅🤣😂 “I just caught a deer!” “let’s celebrate with a hug!”

I like that Katniss remembers how her father even failed to make a good bow sometimes. Random, I know.

I like that the Capitol weren’t entertained by the people freezing to deaths because it wasn’t bloody enough 🤭🙃

“How different can it be [to kill a human vs an animal]?” She’s about to find out, Gale 🥺. And when she comes back you won’t understand 🙄😔

What did Gale want to say before the Peacekeepers dragged him away?

I used to think it was a confession of love but I’m actually sure it wasn’t now? Just the wording “remember I-“ doesn’t sound like it, considering he never confessed anything prior to her coming home.

I’m assuming now he was just gonna give her some more advice to stay alive 🤷🏼‍♀️. Clearly if it were relevant it would have made its way to the others books.

Aww, she’s never been inside a car before 😭😭. I didn’t even know they had cars in this universe but okay.

I notice though how she says “In the Seam, we travel on foot.” So is Peeta just riding his trolly down the street every day with the other merchants then? 🤣

Peeta just openly crying on camera 😅😢.

I like how Katniss is like “ooo is this an act to get sponsors?” when in reality Peeta’s like “no, I’m just a soft and genuine boy ™️”

Omg I just realized this totally goes along with Peeta’s thing later on “I want to die as myself”

He’s refusing to hold back his emotions because he thinks he’s doomed to die and he’s already refusing to pretend to be or feel something ingenious.

But a Johanna mention in book 1 chapter 3 woohoo 🥳🥳🥳 also Katniss comparing Jo and Peeta is kind of like foreshadowing of their shared torture in book 3.

Omg she just called Peeta broad-shouldered and strong. 🥰🥰🥰 my headcanon for his post-canon body is confirmed

Also why does Katniss keep allotting his strength to carrying bread trays around? Are they heavy? Why have I never once heard of people who carry bread trays being strong? I always thought Peeta was really strong because he learned to fight in order to defend himself against his mother but that’s probably wrong.

But if a mother is abusive, it can lead to one of the kids being physically violent as well and we know Peeta isn’t but he has two older brothers I’m gonna cut myself off now but I think we all smelled what I just stepped in.

Also I just find it so fascinating now how she regards herself vs Peeta here.

When talking about herself, she says, “The competition will be far beyond my abilities. [...] Oh, there'll be people like me, too. People to weed out before the real fun begins.” But when she talks about Peeta, she immediately says, “It would take an awful lot of weeping to convince anyone to overlook him.”

It’s just funny how she discounted herself right from the start but thought he was a real contender and then come to find out, Peeta believes it’s the exact opposite 😂🙃. They’re both so stupid I can’t even take it.

Wait did they actually give the location of the Capitol and the location of District Twelve in today’s world? And I just overlooked it? Brb I’m gonna go to google maps right quick.

Okay so basically what I gathered is the Capitol is probably in New Mexico and District Twelve is somewhere between Kentucky and Alabama. Irrelevant I know. But just a reminder now to everyone that Katniss and Peeta are literally speaking, crying and screaming in thick, backwoods southern accents.

It’s literally so sad how everything for Katniss is about food. Like every motive she has, every action she does is about preventing starvation ever again. 🤧🤧🤧

First mockingjay mention 🤭🤭.

“My father was particularly fond of mockingjays” 😭😭😭 I bet he was 😭😭😭😭

We always go on and on about how Katniss is a mockingjay or her children are mockingjays but Katniss herself here says mockingjays represent her father imma cry, y’all 😫😫😫😫

“It’s like having a piece of my father with me, protecting me” shut up shut up shut up shut up

Awww, Katniss has never had food like this before 😔😔😔

Neither has Peeta 🤧🤧

Katniss disliking the way Effie put the two kids from the year before down and so began to eat like a pig just to prove her point, is so her. And the beginning of her fighting for the underdog.

Omg the Rue introduction 🥺🥺🥺

Bahahahaha the commenters calling District Twelve backwards but charming 😅😅😅 they really are the hillbilly district

Peeta’s unexpected laugh 🥺🥺🥺 I love you, baby

“He was drunk. He’s drunk every year.” “Every day.” Katniss and Peeta are already finishing each other’s sentiments and teaming up to get on Effie’s nerves I love them so much 😍

Oh my God, Effie, you selfish jerk. They’re kids having fun for like one second, no need to throw in their faces they’re gonna die if the drunk won’t help them. I’d forgotten why I don’t really like the book version of her. I actually prefer her as comedic relief in the movies.

I actually just realized I really dislike Effie Trinket, I hope they never speak to her again Post-Mockingjay. Idc how you’re raised you don’t need to treat teenagers who are sentenced to a probable death badly just because they laughed at you 🙄🙄🙄😡😡😡😡. They didn’t even really laugh at her, she’s just annoying and awful, we don’t stan Effie in this household.

Okay, that’s all for my thoughts on chapter three! Until next time, y’all ! If anyone actually read this long mess of a post.

#thgagain #this is so long I’m sorry #also yes I’m gonna use a Jennifer gif again

[twilitty]

Moonlit ch.1

This is the first chapter in my new fic Moonlit, it will be posted on Tumblr, ao3, and ffnet. New chapters uploaded every week and a half. Message/comment to be added to my tag list.

3k words

big thank you to my beta reader @effervescentlyirrevocable who has given me the absolute best criticism and helped make this chapter so beautiful :)

Bella moves to Forks Washington, her first week is uneventful. This fic has aged up characters, making them all at entry-college level ages.

Chapter One

My senses are sharper in Forks than they were in Phoenix, I’ve only been here a handful of days yet everything seemed brighter, louder, more alive than my past home. There was something here for me, something that made me feel more alert than I have in years.

The sound of heavy rain slowly pulls me out of my restless sleep, an elbow is thrown across my eyes in an attempt to keep the real world at bay. It’s always raining, the mist layering the ground never abandons its post, and the chilly air seemingly lasts indefinitely. The rainy town of Forks Washington sooner resembles my personal hell than it does a sleepy old town. The forest that borders the town at each cardinal point is layered in green moss, damp dirt, and an endless supply of fresh animal tracks. I’d moved to Forks only a week ago, the sum of which was spent unpacking dreadfully thin clothing and acquainting myself with the few stores and public access areas the town has to offer.

My father, Charlie, has had little to do with this process apart from moral support and the occasional bag of fast food that he’s picked up while on shift. Charlie is the town's police chief, a job that both seems ill-needed and also unbearably boring. How much crime can be committed in a town of fewer than ten thousand citizens? Other than the odd tag on a school building or bush party, what does his shift consist of? I have yet to bring my insulting opinions on his career to his attention, and likely will never do so. He’s a good man with a heart of gold and a passion for the judicial system, which is ever-present in his TV browsing as he cruises through endless episodes of Law & Order.

I’m not a big TV person, even back home in Phoenix, I preferred reading to the television. Perhaps this was related to my mother’s endless stack of yoga DVD’s that seemed to consume our viewing; her in a downward dog position gossiping about her latest advancements at her newest club membership, me sitting on the couch finishing a craft for her so she won’t be late submitting it. My favourite of her crafts was embroidery, one month I embroidered nearly two hundred dandelions on a pair of jeans for her. She gave them to the club administrator as an apology before she quit.

Regardless, at night when the TV is blaring the intro theme to a cop show, I am curled in bed with a book under my nose and headphones in my ears. Blocking out the rain is a full-time chore.

This morning is a particularly eventful morning, not because of any specific events, but rather the events that will be set into motion because of this morning. Today is the first day of my online college courses. I’m currently enrolled in an undeclared major. My hope is that the three courses I’m taking this spring term will help me decide on what I want to do in the future.

Charlie had given me a new laptop upon my arrival in Forks, a current model with modest upgrades to “enhance my academic experience”. Or at least that’s what the box boasted. I am not entirely convinced that a larger memory will miraculously cure me of my educational despise. High school was tortuous, I had few friends and fewer interests outside of my mother’s hobbies. I had no extra-curricular activities that were not synonymous with financial responsibilities. The monthly budget book was mine to care for, as was the constant, intrusive phone calls of the bank when my mother got too engaged in a store. She’s a gullible woman if nothing else. If a store clerk tells her a blouse suits her figure, she’ll purchase ten colours in the article along with two in a size lower just in case she finally loses the ten pounds she’s been trying to shed.

My eyes have barely opened, the down of my forearm just a fraction away from my pupil when Charlie pounds against my door. You’d imagine I was fostering a fugitive in here with the noise he’s making, but this is just the way my father is, loud noises and soft voices. I wonder, idly, if perhaps he has minor hearing loss from spending so much time around guns.

“I’m up!” I call out, my voice is thin and calloused with morning sleep. I clear my throat as the knocking cuts off, “Good morning, Dad.” Charlie doesn’t like me calling him Charlie.

“Morning, Bells,” he calls back through the door, quiet enough to not be taken as aggressive yet loud enough to sound authoritative. He is a father, my father, at heart. He pauses, and it’s as if I can hear the mental gears shifting in his mind. He hasn’t had to be a father since I was a baby, after that Renee was the parent. Charlie was the summer distraction. “Don’t be late for school.” I grunt a response, reaching for the alarm clock on my nightstand and groaning at the early hour of the morning. Barely eight, class doesn’t officially start until noon. I guess there’s nothing wrong with logging in early, although I’d much rather catch up on the sleep I’ve lost to the thunderous storms we’ve been experiencing recently.

As if he could sense my intentions, Charlie knocks against my door again. “Bella, I mean it. You didn’t come here to slack off, now.” No, I think nastily, I came here for peace and quiet.

Between unpacking my belongings and touring the town, I’ve developed a routine in my new living situation. Charlie is fond of my company, enjoying having a woman in the house outside of his ex-wife, my mother and ex-roommate. Although, his fondness of my presence does not directly translate to time spent together. He makes me breakfast, occasionally placing it in the oven to keep warm, and then immediately heads off to his family that is the Forks police station. We meet again for lunch, depending on our individual plans for the day, and then reunite again just in time for dinner. Food really is the great American pastime.

I dress in jeans and a light blue sweater that smells mysteriously of mildew although it’s a recent purchase and has yet to be worn outdoors. I suppose the rain permeates every available space, closed windows be damned. My socks are tall and I have to roll my jeans up at the bottoms to accommodate for the thick, high fabric of them. It’s a trick Charlie taught me for wearing rain boots, the higher the socks the less likely they are to run down to your toes as you walk. Immediately after that trick was taught I went to the nearest hiking store and purchased a pair of rain boots. My first pair of rain boots at nineteen years of age. Unfathomable yet ironic considering my lineage marks back to the wettest town in the continental US. My ancestors roll in their graves every time I step outdoors and forget a jacket or umbrella, I’m sure of it.

Charlie is waiting for me downstairs, both a surprise and unwelcome presence. I had a battered copy of Dorian Gray under my arm, I was expecting philosophy and moral ambiguity, not idle conversation. Before the chief notices my book, I slide it over the back of the couch and enter the kitchen with a polite smile. There’s bacon frying on the stovetop, the police chief is dressed in uniform already, but has a stained white apron tied around his neck. “Dad?”

“Oh,” he turns around and gives me a tight smile, “Excited for your big day?” You’d imagine it’s my first day of preschool with the amount of enthusiasm he’s trying to keep hidden from me, not my first day of online school. I don’t say anything to dampen his mood, I’m glad he’s excited about something. His life is repetitive, if my existence here proves to be no more useful than just disrupting his schedule, it will still be a success.

“Yeah, I guess.” He turns back to the bacon and shifts it around quickly, the grease snapping up at him. If it burns him he doesn’t show it, just maintains the stiff-backed posture of a respectable police officer cooking his daughter breakfast. “I’ve gotta ask, what’s up with the apron?” I stifle a giggle behind a bite of the toast that’s sitting in the middle of the small table. He shakes his head in faux annoyance.

Charlie takes the pan off the hot element, sliding the bacon onto two plates and pouring the grease into an open can. The second trick he taught me since arriving here: never pour grease down the drain.

“I’m in uniform, it would be disrespectful to the badge to stain it.” He slides a plate of bacon in front of me, sitting down in his designated seat across the table. “Besides,” he takes a sip of coffee from his to-go mug. “Can you imagine walking into a police station smelling of fried pig?”

Breakfast ends quickly. We each eat a piece of toast, Charlie stuffing a second piece into a plastic bag “for later” and heading out the door. I still have half a plate of bacon in front of me after he leaves, the maple glaze filling the small kitchen with its smell.

After my Mom and Charlie got married, Renee redecorated much of the house. Her lace curtains still hang in the master bedroom window, constantly drawn closed. The rest of the house has been minorly updated with age, the TV got bigger, the couch more comfortable, new bed linens and even newer rocking chairs on the porch. I had asked Charlie if they were Moms when I first came up to the house a week ago.

They were rocking gently in the wind, the wood seemed to be polished as it shined in what little light filtered through the depressive clouds. They were sitting side by side, matching pillows on them both, a coffee table in the middle with a stack of coasters. It was an old person's porch, where husband and wife would sit all grey and wrinkled, waving at the neighbourhood kids as the bus dropped them off from school. I could almost picture Charlie and Renee sitting there, her knitting a scarf and him content to just watch her and the scenery.

He informed me that they were relatively new, a purchase from a shop down on the Reservation. We haven’t spoken about them since, but I wonder if perhaps he wishes he had someone to sit out there with him.

I spend the morning before class doing odd chores around the house. It’s nice living at Charlie’s, nicer than I had expected it to be. I’m not a fan of the weather or the fact that I currently have no social life, but it’s nice to just sit. I throw my laundry in the wash and manage to get the kitchen cleaned up with just enough time left over to sit on the couch and read a chapter of my book before class.

School has never been my strong suit. That’s not to say I get poor marks or intentionally skip classes, I just never found it as fulfilling as my peers seemed to. I never woke up and looked forward to the social or academic aspect of high school. Perhaps this contributed to me postponing my college experience and only starting it now when I should already be a year into my program.

When I log into my schools online database and click on my first class, Social Psychology 1001, I’m immediately transported to a screen filled with windows and the faces of my classmates. “Hello, class!” The professor's voice calls out over my computer. Perhaps online school won’t be my strong suit either.

Class ends and the next one starts, and I get through all three classes and an hour's worth of homework by the time Charlie pops in for dinner.

“Hey, Bells,” He calls as he opens the front door. I can hear him from where I sit in the kitchen, hanging his gun belt up by the front door and kicking his boots off into a heap on the floor. I imagine Mom back in Phoenix, walking into the house with arms full of bags and tossing her flip flops onto her pile of shoes beside the coatrack she used for purses. Some things won’t ever change.

“How was work?” I ask. He pauses to poke his head into the kitchen, moustache moving as he chews on his lip. I can’t remember when Charlie initially grew out his moustache, just that one summer I arrived and thought could he look more like a cop?

“Good, good, just some meetings. New family moving into town, all foster kids around your age.” He takes pause, staring off into some middle ground in the hallway as if deep in thought. His eyebrows furrow, “Don’t want any trouble makers coming in, but the father seems nice. Respectable.”

“That’s nice,” I contribute conversationally. Charlie and I rarely have material conversations, always just idle talk of the weather or what's for dinner. I’m not entirely sure how to approach this topic, which clearly seems to be occupying his mind.

“Yeah, he’s a doctor.” He grins at this, toothy and a little crooked to the right side. A pang of embarrassment settles in my chest before he speaks, as if knowing where this will turn. “Perfect for you, considering how often your clumsiness-” I wave a hand over my face, grimacing at his words. “Don’t speak it into existence,” I mutter with a half-hearted plea underlying my words. He chuckles, disappearing up the stairs.

I hear the shower turn on after a few minutes of him fumbling around, presumably trying to get undressed. I’m sure once he’s showered and in sweatpants it’ll be twenty questions about my day of school. I’m not sure I have the heart to break the truth to him: it absolutely sucked.

The material was interesting enough, psychology has always been close to my heart. I loved the idea of people being more than their actions and thoughts, that there was something making them say that or something making them act that way. Perhaps this was yet another symptom of having Renee for a mother.

I sit at the kitchen table for a moment longer, my computer is closed in front of me and my pencil case- dreadfully unnecessary with school being online-sits closed and untouched. I haven’t made any friends in my classes, not that I had expected to. Twelve years of public school and no friend group to show for it, just a few texts every couple of weeks. Why would I have believed college, and an online college at that, would be any better?

Having enough with my thoughts, I get up from the table and pack my things into my bag. I’ve completed enough work for today, the rest of the evening I’ll spend either with Charlie or in my room. I’d rather not be nose deep in pdf textbooks and youtube videos constituting as follow-up lectures, I’ve had enough of that today. As if sensing the immediacy of my departure from the kitchen, the shower cuts off and I hear the bathroom door squeak open. For a man who, until recently, lived alone with too much free time, you’d imagine he’d have taken better care of the house. Nearly every door, except my own, creaks open and closed. I made sure to oil my hinges nearly immediately after moving in, I didn’t want Charlie to wake up every time I sneak downstairs for a comfort snack or warm glass of milk to help me sleep. He’s lived alone for nearly twenty years, he doesn’t need his sleep schedule disrupted now.

“The game is on in-” Charlie pauses as if double-checking the times mentally, “- an hour and a half. Are you interested?” He’s calling from up the stairs. I wonder if he truly wants me to watch the game with him, whatever sport it may be, or if he’s only being polite.

“Uh, I was just going to organize my room right now and then maybe make something for dinner,” I say in response. The floors don’t make a noise and I know he’s heard me, but he doesn’t respond. A lump forms in my throat, perhaps he really did want to watch with me.

“That’s fine, but if you want we can order in?” The lump passes and I convince myself that there is no reason to avoid the TV. It’s not like I’ll be a disruption, if I get bored I can read on the couch. I’ve only watched TV with Charlie on a few occasions since my move here, and each time I strategically saved my questions for the commercial breaks.

“Sure! That works.” The floorboards creak and I hear him retreat into his room, the door closing with a pitiful squeak.

We eat pizza on the couch, a large meat-lover for the carnivorous father and a small vegetarian with extra mushrooms for the daughter who cares about her cardiovascular health. We eat slowly, occasionally Charlie will make a face at the television or mumble something under his breath, but other than that we’re quiet. The sport turns out to be baseball and I recall a few of the basic rules from the tragic gym classes of my past. It’s not disastrous in any way, and surprisingly I don’t get bored. There is something relaxing about the repetitive nature of the game.

After the game ends we box up the remaining slices and put them in the fridge to be eaten tomorrow, say good night, and go our separate ways at the top of the stairs.

taglist:

@musingsofvenus @maybesandohnos

#twilight #edward cullen #bella swan #jasper #the twilight saga #carlisle #twilight saga #smeyer #2008 #twilight renaissance #bella/jacob #jacob/bella #jacobxbella #bellaxjacob #fanfic #fanfiction #twilight fanfic #mine

[rons-hermiones]

Come Find Me

Come Find Me

by rons-hermiones

Summary: Unplanned, Hermione is forced to spend Christmas at the Burrow due to her grandmother falling very ill. After being ignored by Hermione for weeks, Ron is determined to show her how much she means to him. Just before he gets the chance to tell her, Bellatrix Lestrange shows up with other plans for Hermione. Can Ron get to her before it's too late? (Ron/Hermione Half-Blood Prince AU)

Rating: M for language & dark themes in later chapters.

Chapter Twelve

He lays there, for Merlin knows how long. And all he wants to do is cry. To break down and sob like a child, but he can’t. Not when Hermione’s brilliant, but absolutely stupid, mind casted this damn stunning spell. 

Even the thought of her pains him now, more than it ever did before. This was all his fault. 

Time doesn’t even seem to be moving because Hermione’s gone and that’s really all that’s resonating in him. Not seconds, not minutes, just nothing. 

The fire must’ve faded away with Bellatrix’s exit because suddenly a multitude of footsteps and yells are bursting through the air. 

“Ronnie!” 

“Harry!”

“Hermione!” 

All chorus through the air. But he can’t answer, he thinks it’d be that way even if he wasn’t stunned silent, because Hermione’s gone and he’s as good as it too. 

“I’m here! I’m here!” Ron hears Harry yell from nearby. 

He can make out the sound of his best friend's body clambering into someone else’s. 

“Over here!” George calls out, causing several more people to enter. 

“Ronnie have you seen him? Have you seen Hermione?” It’s Charlie asking, who seemingly joined the fray. 

“No, no,” Harry sounds rushed, panicked, “Bellatrix, she had Hermione. I stunned Greyback, her and Ron took off running. This is my fault. All my fault.” He was heaving. 

And as much as Ron wanted to lay there forever, pretending everything didn’t just happen he knows he can’t. He has to be strong for Harry, for Hermione. 

So he tries to speak. The sounds of Harry and his brother's voices weren’t that far, he hopes they can hear the pathetic grumbles escaping him. 

“Er-my-knee.” And he doesn’t know why he says it, but it just happens. 

And it happens again, “Er-my-knee.” 

“Did you hear that?” Harry asked, hushing everyone. 

“Hermione.” Ron manages a little stronger, suddenly getting feeling back in the tips of his fingers and toes. 

“It’s Ron.” George says. 

“Ron! Ron, where are you?” Charlie calls. 

 Their footsteps sound closer, he speaks again, “Hermione.”

“Did you hear it again? It sounds like he’s right here, but there’s no one.” George whispers. 

Then, Harry takes a step and seemingly trips over Ron’s invisible form. The movement jostles the ginger, therefore undoing the disillusionment charm. 

“Oh thank Merlin.” Charlie breathes with watery eyes. 

They then notice his arms and legs as stiff as boards. George casts a reviving spell, making Ron sit up with a sharp gasp. 

“Hermione.” Is all he can say again. 

They all exchange looks, “we’re looking for her Ron, do you know where she is?” Charlie asks, crouching down to his level. 

Tears trickle down his cheeks before he can help it, “gone.” Is all he says before meeting Harry’s sad eyes, “she’s gone.” 

“What the hell do you mean she’s gone?” Charlie dares to ask after a moment as he hoists his brother from the ground. 

“Gone Charlie! As in she’s not here!” He explodes, then suddenly, his anger melts into something else, “my fault. All my fault. I’m so sorry. Hermione, I’m sorry.” Ron’s now hysterical. 

Charlie has to slide an arm under his arm pit as George does the same from the other side. Quickly, worried he may be hurt, his brothers, followed by Harry usher him to the house. 

“Oh Ronnie!” His mother shouts happily at the sight of him, tears streaming her cheeks in relief. However, her euphoria is short lived at the sight of him. 

Ignoring Molly, Harry throws open the Burrow door as they set Ron on the couch. 

“Have you found her? Have you found Hermione?” Tonks asks, stumbling after them. 

‘Come find me.’

“Won’t find her. Never gonna find her.” Ron cries. 

“Not if you don’t start talking we won’t!” Lupin boomed angrily as he entered the room. 

“Remus.” Molly chastised. 

“No, he’s right Mum.” Bill said, stepping forward. 

Crouching in front of his distraught brother he spoke soundly, “Ron, can you tell us what happened? Where Hermione’s gone to?” 

Ron’s body continues to shake with cries, “gone. She’s gone. It doesn’t matter.” 

“Ron,” Bill tried again. 

“Told me to find her. Never gonna find her.” His tears subsided as his voice grew sour. 

Bill had enough. He understood whatever happened outside was a harrowing experience, but they were going to get nowhere if Ron didn’t talk. So, he slapped his brother hard across the face. 

“William!” Both his Mum and Fleur yelled in unison. 

“You listen to me right now Ron, we’re never gonna find Hermione if you don’t start talking! You can sit here and feel sorry for yourself, waiting around for her to die, or you can bloody well do something about it!” He bit out angrily, knowing the only way to reach him was tough love. 

And like the sting on his left cheek, Bill’s words, it was like a rush of blood to the head. All of  the sudden things became less blurry. 

It was no longer just about Hermione being gone, but also working tirelessly to get her back. 

‘Come find me.’ 

“She’s so stupid. So stupid Harry.” He moans to his best friend. 

“Why Ron? What did she do?” Ginny stepped forward and asked. 

For whatever reason, his mind wouldn’t allow him to speak to any of them, not anyone but Harry. It’s not just because he’s his best mate, but Hermione’s too. 

“Harry, please just let me tell you.” He pleaded like a little kid asking his mother for a new broomstick. 

At this, Harry’s green eyes cautiously found all the Weasley’s. Arthur was the one who nodded first, soon followed by Molly. 

“Take Ron to the kitchen Harry.” Missus Weasley said in her best motherly tone, doing her best not to cry. 

At this, the chosen one grasped Ron’s arm as he ushered him away, the ginger numbly following. 

“Wait!” Fred called out, the loud noise making his youngest brother jump. 

“Is Hermione” he feels his throat close at the thought, “is she alive?” The twin asks, scared for the answer. 

Ron stared into nothingness. He heard Fred, but he doesn’t know what to say. A ‘yes’ wouldn’t be enough, not when she’s probably been taken to hell on earth. He can’t think of her as some cold lifeless corpse either, Lestrange did say they didn’t want her dead, right? 

And maybe he’s barking, but deep down he knows she’s still alive, that’s she’s okay. He swears he can feel it deep within him. 

‘Come find me.’ 

The words won’t stop bouncing off the walls of his head. 

“Ron?” Harry beckons him to answer, needing to know himself. 

“For now.” It’s the best he can give before he stumbles into the kitchen, hearing Tonk’s voice whisper something to everyone about Dumbledore as he exits. 

The Boy-Who-Lived pushed him down into a chair as he pulled one to face him. 

“Ron you have to tell me what happened alright? I know it’s hard, but this, this is Hermione.” Harry doesn’t think in all his years, not when he was old enough to understand his parents death, not when Cedric died, hell, not even when Sirius died, did he think he had to be this strong. 

Ron and Hermione were the first things he’s ever had that resembled family. The fear of losing her, it was almost the worst of it all, but he knew that if he could help her, he first had to help Ron. 

“Harry, I’m so sorry, I should’ve done more.” The dark haired boy could see the sob already bubbling up in his throat. 

“It’s okay Ron, it’s alright, I need you to start at the pond, after I stunned Greyback. What happened next?” He tried hoping to distract Ron from becoming hysterical. 

After a moment, the ginger took a staggering breath and began, “we started running and Hermione, she told me that,” he could feel himself about to crumble, “she told me,” Ron couldn’t get the words out. 

“What did she tell you?” Harry’s voice was like a lifeline. Something he was clinging onto, guiding him through this. 

He hates himself for even putting Harry in this position at all. 

“Lestrange, she-she mentioned something to Hermione I guess about how she didn’t come here for you. She didn’t come for anyone.” He managed, somehow coherent. 

“She didn’t?” Potter couldn't help but ask. 

Ron shook his head, “we stopped, over by the oak tree, the one Herm, the one she reads at.” He can’t find it within him to say her name, “Bellatrix we heard her, thought, she thought we were you.” A tear slid its way down his cheek. 

“You’re doing good Ron. I promise.” Harry said clutching on his shoulder. 

The touch gives the red head the strength he needs, “Bellatrix and Greyback, they were talking. Said that You-Know-Who didn’t want you killed. Under no circumstances were you to be killed, even if they found you.” This part puzzled Ron greatly, so much so, his sadness was replaced by sheer confusion. 

“What?” Harry seemed to feel the same. 

He nodded slowly, “dunno, but she had-she-Lestrange had other ideas.” 

“Such as?” Ron needed these little interjections, they kept him sane. 

“Me, she wanted to ki-to kill me.” He stopped to catch his breath, “but they weren’t allowed to kill her.” 

Harry didn’t think he had it in him to be strong for Ron much longer. The thought of him dying, the thought of Death Eaters having bigger plans Hermione was a horrendous thought. And it was all because of him. 

“She said there’d been talk about-about Her, Hermione.” He chokes on her name, “about how she’s the brilliant one so she must know the most, that they could get the most information from her.” 

He stops talking. A whole two minutes goes by and he says nothing. 

Impatiently, Harry needs more, “how did you end up on the ground stunned with a disillusionment charm.” 

And just like that, the floodgates are broken. He’s scared if Harry knows the truth, knows why she did what she did, that he’ll hate him. The chosen one will blame Ron for her being gone, and he should, but in turn Wealsey will lose both of him. And he needs Harry more than ever right now, he’s the closest one to understand how this feels. How much Hermione means to him, to them. 

“The second Lestrange said it, the second Hermionee looked at me and I knew, I just knew.” He manages between sobs. 

“Knew what?” Harry shakes his shoulder, hoping to ease him so he’d be more understandable. 

“She’s so brilliant Harry, too bloody brilliant, fucking stupid too.” His cries are becoming hysterical as he heaves loudly. 

Both of Harry’s hands find his friend's shoulders and gives them a hard squeeze, too hard, but he needs Ron’s attention. 

“You have to tell me what happened.” The dark haired boy did his best to keep his voice strong and commanding, but it was shaking, he was scared for what was to come. 

“Lestrange- she wanted to kill me she didn’t want to kill Hermione, not yet anyway.” he can’t help but add sadly. 

Harry, knowing Hermione as well as he did, began to frantically shake his head, “tell me she didn’t Ron. Please tell me.” It was now his turn to cry. 

With a harsh gasp, the ginger went on, now trying to be strong for Harry, “I wasn’t fast enough, I knew, but she’s too quick. Stunned me before I could even say goodbye.”  He had so many things he wishes he could’ve told her, but never mind that, he wishes he could’ve stopped her, taken her place. 

“The disillusionment charm?” Harry said, sounding broken. 

“Right after she stunned me.” He sunk his head into his hands, “Bellatrix, she disarmed her. I heard the crack, I heard them apparate away. I did nothing, nothing.” Ron spat, disgusted with himself.

“She saved you. She saved your life.” Harry sounds breathless as tears fall out of his green eyes. 

“She saved me.” And just like that Ron broke down with him, this time Harry joining him. 

Absently, their hands began clutching to one another. Ron gripped Harry’s shirt with fervor as the Boy-Who-Lived clung to his back wildly, burying his head in his shoulder as Ron fell into his chest. 

Ron felt so alone, until right now. They both lost Hermione. 

Time passed, who knows how long, but it couldn’t have been a while because no one has bothered them. 

“Do you think,” Harry’s throat is scratchy from the tears, he slowly pulls away from Ron’s embrace, “do you think she does? Know something I mean.” 

The ginger frantically shakes his head, “dunno, probably,” the black book she’s been clinging to completely slips the pair's minds, “we weren’t exactly on the best of terms.” 

And just like that, he’s reminded of all the mistakes he’s made these past few months. He never got the chance to even say he’s sorry, and now, he doesn’t know if he ever will. 

“Merlin, oh Merlin,” he moaned in anguish, “Hermione, she thinks, she thinks I hate her. I never said sorry, I don’t know if I’ll ever say sorry.” He begins panting, Harry recognizes this as a panic attack and instantly takes Ron’s face in his hands. 

“Look at me,” Ron’s eyes remained closed, “Ron look at me!” Harry roars, fierce determination etched onto his features, “don’t talk about her like we’re never gonna see her again, do you hear me?” 

The ginger said nothing and continued trying to catch his breath. 

“Ron do you hear me!” Harry yells. 

This surprisingly seems to anchor Weasley back to reality. 

“We’re going to find her.” The chosen one states. 

‘Come find me.’ 

“She told me to find her.” His voice doesn’t come out strangled or shaken, instead it’s strong, speaking with such fervor. He was determined to do just what she asked. 

“And we will. But first we need help.”

“We need Dumbledore.” Ron finished Harry’s thought.

#ron x hermione #ron weasley #ron and hermione #rons-hermiones come find me #hermione granger #romione fanfic #romione #hp #hp fanfic #sixth year

[danddymaro]

A Touch of Happiness Pt.1 |Arthur Fleck x Reader

It’ll have like three little parts. something sweet and loving.

Thoughts are italics in quotations = ‘Example’

Flashbacks are in italics = Example

Word count :  2013

Part 1 : Thank You

She took in a large breath, letting a sweet, relaxing glob of air fill her lungs before she decided to step closer to the lonesome clown, and truth be told, it took her more than that one attempt to gather herself entirely.

She’d fumbled with the hem of her new suit’s jacket, pacing back and forth over and over before she fought against her better senses that told her to just walk away. 

And inwardly, she cursed at her nature, despising how easily she caved at the sight of the defeated man because, in Gotham, she shouldn't be so trusting.

She shouldn’t be so eager to walk through the filthy ally just to reach some stranger she knew nothing about.

 ‘But here I am,’ She mused just as she came closer to the man, each step that crunched under her little pumps making her heart fasten furthermore with anxiousness.

‘He could be a murderer.’ her consciousness chided her, ‘Or a robber at best you idiot!’ it went on,

‘AT BEST! So, Turn back....just turn back...Go back...’ It went on, the little voice rising with more distress and alarm as she was finally only just a few steps from him.

For just a measly second she stopped, swallowing down thickly as she made her final decision,

‘TURN BACK NOW!’ Her inner self barked one final time before she shook her head to rid herself of the negative thoughts, deciding to go with the little aching muscle in her chest that told her to help him.

Upon coming nearer she noticed was far too thin to be called slender, and that perhaps sitting alone in a filthy alley wasn’t his only problem.

He was terribly underweight, greatly concerning her, and with knitted brows she knelt to him, her voice soft and sweet as she tried to appear harmless to him in order to coax him out of whatever misery that clouded him,

‘Just a smile, come on now,’ She inwardly encouraged him, cheering for him.

 ‘Sometimes, just forcing a smile will get you through the day,’ She went on, ‘And other times when that doesn’t work... it takes a fool like me to infect someone,’ She mused, wanting to spread to him a small percentage of herself just to lift him up.

‘Sometimes I have A hard day too,’ She reasoned, wishing that during those times someone would walk over to her and sit with her. 

Not talk.

Not even listen.

Just sit.

‘Just knowing that someone is there...That someone in this awful city cares...’ 

The stench of garbage made her face scrunch up, but swallowing down the squeamish side of her, she focused more on getting the poor man out of there, momentarily shutting off her nose.

She made sure to keep her legs pressed together as she hunkered, her hand hesitant to actually touch him before she spoke, “H-Hey there,” She said with uncertainty, seeing him lift his head up to the sound of her voice. 

“Huh..?” A little sound left him as he gazed up at her, and with that single motion, she could see his face properly.

It was masked by a thick coating of makeup, something she’d been expectant of, however, the heavy smudges which had bunched up and left his skin naked made her breath hitch.

Vibrant, large green eyes glowed at the sight of her, ones she would have stared at longer had it not been for another color that stole the show, 

‘He’s...he’s bleeding !’ She thought with horror.

Scarlet dribbled down both his nose and mouth, causing her heart to ache at the pathetic sight, and what was much worse, it seemed as though they weren't the only marks on him. 

Purplish hues slipped through the thin patches of white that let her know that he had endured so much more in the past.

“...Oh...Oh no,” She said worriedly, frantically touching the side of his face with her shaking head,  feeling the oily mix of makeup and sweat as well as sticky, warm blood greet her flesh.

Her eyes dashed left and right to find someone to help her, but finding not a soul there with them in the filthy spot, something she was partially grateful for because she would have been terrified to find anyone else in the same alleyway.

It was only natural to search for help, the only reason she even bothered to look around, and it took that single glance to remember just where she was,

‘I really hate Gotham!’ She thought with dismay, despising its cruelty, much more the way it’d jaded its community.

She knew that if there had been anyone else to see the dilemma they would have walked away briskly, choosing to ignore them altogether to save themselves from any one else’s troubles.

“Oh...oh no,” she muttered again, “Oh God, are you alright?” She asked with worry, her eyes finding him again, peeled wide open and attentively.

Through his blurry, miserable sight, he saw an angel, A literal angel in every sense of the word came down to help him and he was so stunned, he laughed.

And laughed …

And laughed…

He laughed like a madman, croaking out soon after as he felt his already knocked out air leave him.

He could see it in her face: the clear as day fright. 

she was obviously freaked out, but nonetheless, she stayed.

All the while, her face was full of discomfort, but she held it in, biting her tongue as she helped him up instead, choosing to save all the questions for afterward. Knowing he was in for a particularly stressful fit he fumbled with his pant pocket, taking out a laminated little card that seemed to have been folded and bunched more than once, shakenly forcing it onto her hand so she could take a hold of it. 

“What’s thi-” Stopping mid sentence she read the words, soon understanding just why he was so eager to get her to read it, 

“Forgive my laughter,” She said softly, reading the front, “I have a condition,” she went on, wondering just what type of condition it was. 

‘I’ve never heard of it... much less seen it for myself,’ She thought while she continued to watch him let out the sounds of amusement that all sounded pained and heart wrenching as though every moment of it was pure hell.

Turning over the little laminated piece (f/n) continued to read, "It's a medical condition causing sudden... frequent... uncontrollable laughter that doesn’t match how you feel, “ She continued, “ It can happen in people with a brain injury or certain neurological conditions." She added with a touch of sadness and as she uttered the final words, she felt a powerful jab to her chest that rendered her weak. 

She then felt guilt for having wanted to back away when she heard the first burst of giggles escape.

However, despite the urge to flee, something in her heart had refused to let her move, urging her to help him, to give him the much-needed hand that he’d been denied until then.

And just then, she was thankful for that small part of her that was ‘stupid.’ because it’d kept her there.

“- That’s right, come on,” she encouraged him, patting his back, not knowing what else she could do before she tried to help him up. Grimacing, she used all of her strength to help him out, inwardly wondering how the hell someone so small could be so heavy,

“Let’s get you out of here,” She said anxiously, not willing to stay any longer out of public view, not trusting the smelly, narrow path.

So, steadily she helped the man make his way out onto the decently  populated sidewalk as he struggled with his ongoing fit, soon standing before the old, beaten  building’s large ‘out of business’ sign.

“Much better,” She muttered to herself, offering him a pretty smile, clearing the (h/c) colored strands that had annoyingly  fallen into view during her struggle. 

And soon enough he too began to compose himself, slowly growing calmed.

They spent a moment in silence before she shot her arm out to him, her hand set right before him, 

“Um...I’m (f/n) by the way,” She said with uncertainty, not knowing what else to say.

She wanted to ask more about his illness but didn’t want to seem rude, or much worse make him feel bad about it when she knew he didn’t want to live with it.

She was certain no one would want to live with what seemed to be a painful, inescapable moment.

‘ (F/n) ’ he thought to himself, all the while staring at her, unable to draw his eyes away.

“(f/n)” he repeated, his green eyes gleaming. 

He felt drunk on a sweet feeling he'd never been washed by before.

It was a lovely mix of appreciation and awe, as well as admiration sprinkled with something more he just couldn’t place, but he knew made him happy.

It made him feel alive and whimsical, something that’d only been an experience when his mind would wander to all the impossibilities that could never occur in his life, but he so desperately desired,

“I- I...I’m A-”

She continued to smile before she suddenly seemed struck by alarm, not letting him finish his introduction, her hands immediately flying towards the sides of her head and slapping there with a little sound that made him wince,

“The bus!” She exclaimed, her voice high and screechy, “I’m going to miss the bus!” she said with wide (e/c) colored eyes, double-checking the time on her cheap, little watch.

“If I miss it...” She trailed off, horror written over her face as she thought of what would occur if she did happen to miss the transportation.

‘No....no...I’m going to make it!’ She thought determinedly as she swallowed up a large, exaggerated breath, kicking off her little heels before she made a mad dash down the street, the pumps in hand after she hastily reached down to them, racing against time to reach her destination.

“Arthur...” He said softly, his hoarse voice small and weak as he watched her run from him, his heavily bouncing heart giving one final leap before it stopped, constricted as he realized that not only had he been left with the words in his mouth, but also with the 'thank you' she deserved. 

The sweet woman had been just a chance encounter he knew he’d dwell over, hurt because all in all, he couldn’t tell her just how much her selfless, little act had meant to him.

And then there was another thing that left him with his head hanging, 

“My card...” He breathed, “She...She took my card,” He added, feeling utterly stupid as he’d watched her scrabble away with it in hand, her mind probably scrambled with how hastily she’d left, not really meaning to steal it.

He felt defeated, yet within the bitter feeling of disappointment was a sweet, little touch of warmth that made him force a gentle smile,

‘To think... she stopped for me...’ He thought to himself.

He’d seen one too many people pass him up, not just then, but in the past. 

It’d hurt until he became numb to it, by then expectant of the cold shoulder of the world. 

However, with that single person that presented their hand to him, he couldn’t help but smile.

He felt something he thought had died somehow spring back up with new life, 

“Thank You (f/n),” He said out to the wind, wishing that the air would magically carry out his words of appreciation to her, letting her know that his day had brightened from it’s normally grimy filter thanks to her. 

It wasn’t much, but for once in a very long time he could see hints of soft colors begin to surround him, and he had her to thank,

“Thank you...” He said again, wishing he had a chance to properly express to her how much it really meant.

#arthur fleck fanfic #arthur fleck x reader #arthur fleck #arthur fleck x you #arthur fleck x y/n #arthur fleck x reader insert #arthur fleck x female reader #arthur x reader #dc joker #dc comics #joker #the joker #the joker x reader #joker 2019 #dc reader insert #the joker x reader insert #the joker x female reader #the joker fluff #arthur fleck fluff

[my-brothers-corrupted]

Blue, are you doing okay? Stacy came to visit the others and if... if you want you could head home to meet her and the magicians within the next few days? You must be getting lonely in that old bus. I know it was a really low point for you, running away. You would be better off being with your family, being where you can be safe and healthy.

Stacy walks back through the city towards the library, lost in her thoughts. She gets cat-called and replies with a half-hearted middle finger, barely registering it.

In a way, she supposes there are good things about this. Chase doesn't have to remember everything that happened between them - the screaming fights, the words they exchanged, how quickly they seemed to turn on each other, the shitty things that he did and the shitty things she did too. How their friends and his brothers ended up having to play mediators between them, getting involved in all their drama. They can move past that.

But he's also forgotten the good times. What it was like to dance in their pajamas at midnight on New Years, playing old love songs from the computer. What it was like to be mum and dad together. Fuck, they were young. How she came to him sobbing and admitted she was pregnant, expecting him to freak out or leave her or yell - and instead he dropped to his knees and kissed her stomach and asked her to marry him with tears in his bluebird eyes, and wasn't he so beautiful there in the afternoon light? And isn't he still beautiful, more grown, more scarred, just as gentle as he ever was despite everything?

She arrives at the fountain beside the library and pulls a piece of paper out of her pocket, unfolding it to reveal an image that is familiar to you: a lapwing bird, the same image tattooed onto Blue's arm. When the reflection of the bird touches the water, the other dimension opens like a doorway before her, and she can press her hand through the water, and step out on the other side.

Maybe it's because she's so lost in her thoughts that for a moment, she does not recognize the person speaking with the magicians.

"It was like being half of who I was at the time," he is saying, voice loud and confident. "I was so ill every day I thought I would die. And when it was given back to me - I was alive again, and none of the skill had left me. Like a limb was reattached. And I tore the darkness apart with that flame. Rebuilt the trees of the forest. I felt like a part of the earth again, and the earth listened when I spoke."

Several of the Irish magicians who make their home base here in this mirror dimension and her Swedish friends, Leah and Colin, are crowded around him, listening intently and asking questions, occasionally reaching out to touch his arm or hand like they can't believe he's real. He has soft white hair and eyes blue as flame. His hands rise and fall as he speaks, and she sees the glitter of rings on his fingers and the swirl of tattoos. He seems to have his own internal light source. He seems to gleam.

"Couple days after that, my brothers and I went head-to-head with his mind tricks and tore them the hell apart. It made him weak enough we could beat him down, and when he was finally weak enough and begging like a coward, I put a knife in his goddamn heart and we burned what was left of him. Since then? I'm free of him, yeah."

There's excited shrieking from his feet as the magicians continue to quiz him and the person leans down and scoops up Stacy's son into his arms, eagerly rocking Hunter up and down, up and down, fast enough to make him howl with laughter. Stacy steps out into the grand hall of the magicians and recognizes him.

"Marvin," she breathes.

He turns to her smiling. Goddamn. Goddamn. He seems to glow.

"Hi," he whispers, and the others around them fall silent too, in honor of the reunion. "I think I knew you once."

"I think you did," she answers quietly.

"It's Uncle Marv!" screams Hunter, throwing his arms around his neck. "You found me!"

"I found you!" He kisses Hunter's face and throws him into the air only to catch him again. "Here I am."

Stacy steps up to him and touches his arm. Marvin smiles at her again, perhaps a little nervous closer up. She realizes Izzy is here too, just clinging to Marvin's leg. But while Hunter is shouting and celebrating, Izzy is just hiding her face against his pants and clinging to him, silent. Stacy strokes her daughter's hair, but she can't pull her eyes off her sibling-in-law.

"I can't believe this," she says. "How did you lot find him?"

"We didn't," laughs Colin. "He remembered that his tattoo lets him into this place and just came down the stairs all of a sudden."

"Unbelievable," a second magician joins in. "He's been missing for more than a year and then just comes back, just like that, alive."

"I took some time away from my brothers," says Marvin, a little shyly. "And I should go home, too - I will, soon. But I just... remembered a part of myself that existed outside of them, I think. Maybe I needed that. I'm safe now, though. And I'm not alone."

"I can't even believe my eyes."

"Ah, am I that bad?" asks Marvin, a little red in the face.

"No," she chuckles, touching his cheek. "You're as beautiful as ever, pretty boy."

Marvin smiles so wide his teeth seem to shine too.

"I missed you, Marv," she confesses. "I really have."

"We all have," laughs Leah, beaming at him. "Can't lose a great friend and a great magician without missing you."

"You found us!" shrieks Hunter, throwing his arms around his neck. "You found me, Uncle Marvin!"

Marvin lifts him and catches him. Lifts him and catches him. Hunter is laughing and shouting and holding him.

"I love you, Marvin," says Hunter, giving him a sloppy kiss on the cheek. "I love you."

Marvin.

Blue holds him and spins him and picks Izzy up too, kissing her face, and she clings to him like all that matters in the world is there against his shoulder.

Marvin.

Coming from them, it really doesn't sound like too bad of a name at all.

#yayyyy #i underexplained so feel free to ask the magicians anything too

[restlessmaknae]

youth is never coming back

Every year, on 13th June, he went to the graveyard. To remember. To forget. To say thank you. To regret. To let the tears fall and laugh with them.

♦ Characters: OT7 (Jin-focused)

♦ Genre: HYYH-based storyline, angst, drama

♦ Words: 8k

♦ Warning: mentions of phobias, mental disorders, suicide, physical abuse and major character deaths

PROLOGUE

It was 13th June.

Today − just like every year after I’ve turned 12 – I accompanied my grandfather who went to the cemetery to put some flowers on six particular graves. He slowly crouched down, accumulated all the fallen leaves and cleared the surface of each and every grave. Then, for long minutes, his eyes were staring far ahead and filled with bittersweet nostalgia. It seemed that something was eating him up; he was quietly struggling, clutching onto his chest, gasping for air and murmuring to himself.

When I first saw him, I thought that he was having an episode – it wouldn’t have been a surprise after all. But the moment I tapped him on the shoulder, he turned around to look at me and when our eyes met, I saw tiny teardrops shining in his eyes like beautiful sea pearls. He was definitely one of the most frightened creatures I have ever seen in my life. To my astonishment, he shrugged my help right away. He was stuttering, searching for the right words to say while I tried my best to help him but he didn’t let me – not even once.

As years went by, I became quite hesitant when I noticed that 13th June was just in a few days’ time. I asked my parents why I should go with him when I don’t even know the loved ones he’s visiting and they merely said the following:

“Your grandfather has a very tragic and sorrowful past. Since we can’t always give him a ride to the graveyard, at least you should be there for him. Once you will be old enough, I’m sure he would tell you what you need to know.”

That was it. Grandfather was always pretty reserved and secretive but until my first visit with him to the scary graveyard, I didn’t think much of it. After that, he became the definition of mystery for me. I knew that he had such a painful youth that everybody thought that it was a miracle that he was still alive; not hunted by ghosts and developing a mental illness.

It’s pretty weird to think of it that you have a grandfather whom people like to talk about and you still don’t know anything about him. Or at least, not those things that you are most curious about.

However, this year, it all became clear and I wished I hadn’t got all the answers this time. After his confession, several times I caught myself lying in bed, staring at the ceiling and replaying his memories in my mind. I frantically flinched whenever I heard screeching sounds of tyres or someone lit up a cigarette around me. I was never the same person and I couldn’t look at him the way I did before. I even understood why he said that youth is never coming back whenever I had to face obstacles.

Because he knew it; he knew that I could get over them because my problem was never as serious as his. Or his friends’. My teenage years were never as devastating and definite as his. And luckily, I was never in his shoes and could never feel the way he did. Now looking back, I know I should have been a happier person, I should have respected my friends more and I should have loved my family even more. I should have said thank you and sorry and I should have said I love you as well.

Why? It’s simple. Grandfather thought me that you never know when things would start falling apart and you never know when you see the faces of your friends for the last time. You could never be prepared for when they will be gone. And not just figuratively but really.

Since you never know when they will die.

THE STORY OF LILIES

The day had come.

My ordinary school day went by in its usual pace and I never allowed myself to wander off and start worrying about my afternoon visit to the graveyard. It was kind of terrifying to walk by hundreds of graves and I swear that I even heard whispers once. Maybe it was just another family member who didn’t have the chance to say goodbye to the loved one who had died. But it was still scary and small wonder why it wasn’t a favourite place of an 18-year-old high school student.

Anyway, it was still better than neglecting grandfather who seriously needed company and a helping hand after granny had died when I was 12. Yes, that was also the time when I became his partner for his graveyard trips on 13th June.

As I was leaving after my last class and unintentionally slammed the entrance door in somebody’s face, I noticed a familiar figure sitting on a newly painted bench in the park which was in front of our school.

“Grandpa!” I exclaimed as I was approaching him and saw the lilies in his hands. It was always those lilies; he bought them every single time we went to those graves and there was always six of them. Six beautiful but stern piles of lilies.

“Nari!” A genuine smile was forming on his lips when he heard my fairly childish voice and began to stand up. I walked faster in order to help him and gave him a tight hug when we succeeded.

He was old, I was aware of that. 72 years could be considered quite old but he wasn’t old because of his silver-grey hair or bad eye-sight. Everybody knew why he was like that; because of all those horrifying things that happened to him when he was young. Some people were particularly surprised that he could make it to 72 years; some didn’t even expect him to survive after what had happened back then. And what I knew nothing about.

“How was school today?” He whispered while I was still hugging him and I was only able to withdraw when I had to answer. I suppose a frown was evident on my face.

“Tiring as usual,” I rolled my eyes in annoyance because what else could I say? School was tiring and boring as always. Nothing interesting ever happened there. Not like I wanted my life to be fast-paced but it wasn’t the least interesting.

“You should cherish these years as well. Once you will be old like me, you will regard this time of your life as the best one.” He stated absent-mindedly and I had this feeling again that he was referring to his own youth.

“I know, grandpa. But it’s hard…” I whined like a toddler and let out an irritated grumble.

“It is.” He nodded in agreement and his words were all part of his little secret; the one that only he knew. Maybe I wasn’t still old enough to know the truth.

We slowly fell into a comfortable silence. We didn’t even talk for the next 25 minutes except me asking him where we should sit on the bus. When we finally arrived at the graveyard, I started fidgeting anxiously because I exactly knew what was following. The same old sorrowful routine which I knew step by step.

As we were on our way to those particular graves, the almost touchable proximity to the dead made my heart beat in bewilderment. This whole mysterious, stern and terrifying atmosphere was lingering around us; the thought that one day I would be here as well always seemed to cross my mind. I couldn’t help nibbling my lips.

We were getting closer and closer and my heart was beating faster and faster. The moment we reached the first grave, grandfather turned to face me and said:

���Would you mind holding these for me?” He asked with a broken smile and looked down at his pale hands. He was referring to those six lilies which he was holding firmly.

“Not at all.” I mustered and grabbed the handful of flowers. I didn’t get it. Why did it always have to be those lilies? Why couldn’t it be roses or baby’s breath? Why couldn’t it be something that wasn’t connected to me?

He didn’t say more, so I didn’t know what to do. Should I let him struggle alone and stand a little bit further away – like always? Or would he need the flowers in the next minute?

“Grandpa…” I whispered hesitantly.

‘You can stay.”

The sudden permission struck me like lighting. I wasn’t prepared for him allowing me to stay. My blood ran cold.

I opened my mouth to say something but he had already averted his eyes to the grave when I was finally able to speak. Suddenly, he tucked his hands into his pockets and got out some polaroids. Judging from how torn they looked, they could be pretty old. He looked down at them and a minute of silence followed.

I didn’t even dare to breathe, the seconds seemed so unbreakable. I could only hear the sound of my crazily beating heart and screeching tyres from the distance. I was shivering.

Then, he chose one polaroid and held it in front of his face, examining it again and again. He didn’t seem nervous or scared, he was perfectly in control of his emotions. He was standing there – stern and brave – like a statue. When he finally spoke, his voice sounded strained.

“Kim Taehyung, my dear friend,” he cleared his throat and stopped after saying the name out loud. I only knew about this boy because he was once one of grandfather’s friends but I was never told whether he was still alive or already died. Well, obviously, I knew the answer by now.

“You were always a kid to me; a talkative, bubbly kid. I thought that you always saw the bright side of life and enjoyed joking around and teasing others. Your smile was something that made our days better. Your laugh was something that made us laugh as well. Maybe you couldn’t recognise it but you were the centre of the wheel.”

Grandfather’s words were lovely and heart-warming. My shoulders loosened as I started listening to him and even though the sadness in his voice didn’t go unnoticed, his words soothed my nerves a little.

“Soon I had to realise that this was just the surface,” he croaked and my heart almost missed a beat. “There’s no denying that you were the one who had to suffer the most. We were aware of the fact that your frequently drunk father beat you, your mom and your sister. We knew about your bruises that you tried to cover with your long-sleeved shirt and baggy pants yet they couldn’t cover them all. That’s how I recognised it first and alarmed the others but you didn’t let us help you. You said that you would try to find a way to make things right. But after the day when he beat your mom to death, you couldn’t take your anger back.” He continued with shaky voice and I was at the verge of fainting, sternly holding onto those lilies and trying to pacify my crazily beating heart. No, that can’t be. He couldn’t have done that.

“Everyone thinks that you were the motive of the whole butterfly effect; of us falling one by one. But even if it’s true, you need to know that we never blamed you. You had to do what was right; you had to save your sister and even yourself. It was self-defence and you didn’t mean to take your father’s life. We knew. But we also knew that you could go to jail because there was no evidence and maybe that was why you decided to end your own life. You were always a good friend, a brother almost and we thought that we could easily read your mind. However, on that day, when you climbed up on that platform, we didn’t have the slightest idea that you would do so. That you would jump off and leave us. You couldn’t see but we tried to save you – at least 5 of us. We jumped into the sea, one after another, trying to swim to the area you had landed but when we finally found you, your heart had already stopped beating. You can’t even imagine how long we tried to cherish the thought that you weren’t dead and there was still hope. We tried to resuscitate you but there was no response. You were the first to leave us.”

My nerves were frazzled, I could barely breathe. I had never once imagined Kim Taehyung committing suicide because of his father. I had never once imagined any of grandfather’s friends ending their own lives. I couldn’t even muster a single thing as I started to puzzle up his words.

“Thank you for being a resilient fighter and caring brother! Your sister had the chance to live a full, happy life thanks to you. She now has children and even grandchildren but my favourite one is her first-born son…” He confessed coyly, his cheeks tinted pink. He looked down at the photo and then up again. A pearl-like teardrop was already shining in his eyes when he continued. “His name is Taehyung.”

I had to look away in order not to start weeping. Even if I didn’t have the chance to meet him, I was sure that he was such a lovable person. I already respected him with all my heart as he sacrificed so much because of his family.

“Thank you for being with us, Kim Taehyung,” he whispered, silently crouching down and putting the photo on his grave accompanied by one pile of lilies. Then, he bowed and my heart ached for him. I helped him to get up and we moved onto the next grave. There, he hold onto another picture and started talking – with only a mysterious half-smile just like before.

“Park Jimin, my dear friend,” he pondered and got his grip together. “You were always a delighted, open-minded and positive person. You didn’t let any day pass by without your trademark eye-smile appearing on your face. You gave in so easily and joined us in whatever stupid thing we wanted to do. You were always radiant. However, as they say, you can fall the hardest from the top of the world. And that day−“he trailed off and paced out for a moment or so. “That day literally broke you.”

I peered over grandfather’s shoulder to look at the next polaroid. All I could see was a charming, black-haired boy at around the age of 18. He looked beaming and satisfied like nothing on Earth could bother him. There was actually no boy like him nowadays; everyone was either busy and stressed or greedy and selfish. He must have been a lovely person to be around.

“Taehyung’s death affected all of us but you were the one who couldn’t take the pain. It was mostly because of shame. Because you couldn’t save him and couldn’t even intend to save him. You had aquaphobia from a very young age and seeing him jumping into the water made you more terrified than ever. You had a constant fear of water and when we all jumped in to save him, you were standing there, frozen and absolutely devastated. I saw the commitment in your eyes when we pulled Taehyung to the surface but you couldn’t do it. You couldn’t swim and it drove you crazy. You were screaming and walking up and down on the harbour like a lunatic, tears constantly sliding down your cheeks. I could see that there was hope shining in your eyes when we managed to get him to you. You didn’t know then that he was already dead, just when you tried to listen to his heartbeat. You couldn’t hear anything. Anything at all,” he said, his voice barely audible. There was a moment or so when he suddenly stopped and I thought that he would start crying but he didn’t. He stayed strong, firmly holding onto the picture like it could bring Jimin back. I was the one who was already on the edge of tears.

“After that, there was no turning back. You were lost in the maze of confusion, shame and regret,” he shook his head and his voice suddenly became so raspy. “When I heard the news, I couldn’t believe it. You left us, you ended your life in the same way Taehyung did. You drown yourself in your bathtub. I don’t know if it was because you thought that you would do justice to his memory or because you wanted to overcome your fear. Whatever your reason was, I just want you to know that you shouldn’t have blamed yourself. It wasn’t your mistake, Taehyung wouldn’t have blamed you. He also wouldn’t have wanted you to follow him,” he continued and my world suddenly became numb. How was that possible that such wonderful people decided to end their own lives? Just by thinking about it, my heart broke into tiny little pieces. The world was all wrong.

“Thank you for being a loyal friend and a sunshine in everybody’s life! Boyeon’s also doing fine but she couldn’t fall in love with anyone else. Your bond must have been too strong to let her fall for any other man. She still has that angle-like smile – like you called it – but it’s slightly broken now. As she loved you till the end, she still does,” he crouched down, put the polaroid and another lily on the grave and stood up again. I had no idea who Boyeon was but I puzzled up his words and assumed that she was Jimin’s love. I couldn’t even imagine her pain; loving someone and waking up one day to the thought that this someone was already in another world. “Thank you for being with us, Park Jimin,” he bowed slowly and respectfully, his eyes full of affection and concern. Every of his words were sincere yet heart-wrenching and I couldn’t be prepared for what was following.

“Jeon Jungkook, my dear friend,” we moved onto the next grade and grandfather looked at another torn picture. It showed a young boy with a cheeky smile and the most wonderful pitch-black eyes I’ve ever seen in my life. His childish features couldn’t hide the fact that he was younger than his other two friends but he was also so tall compared to another guy who was beside him. I soon realised that the one who slanged his arms around the boy’s shoulder was actually grandpa. Of course, in a younger version, with his fluffy chestnut-brown hair and chocolate-brown eyes. They looked so happy, it hurt to look at that scene.

“You were always a bit shy and more introverted than the others but we still liked you like that. We somehow managed to break down your walls and it turned out that you were actually quite amusing. You even teased your hyungs but never went too far. You always helped me when I wanted to cook something and you were always there when any of us needed company. You were truly an amazing friend,” he whispered with awe and looked up at the grave. It must have been hard for him, seeing that this was the only thing that Jungkook had left off. I felt the same when grandma died; I tried to cling onto the beautiful memories, the touch of her beloved books, the scent of her pillow but it eventually faded away. Memories became shorter and more distant, her scent was faint and her books were given away for charity.

“I never thought that you would fall apart like that. You were always the one who were good at everything and couldn’t even hurt anyone. Of course, you had enemies because they were jealous of you but you always fought back. Yet, going home after Jimin’s funeral, you let them hurt you. They beaten you up, they kicked you, they punched you in the face and you didn’t fight back. Not even once. When they realised it as well, they abandoned you in an alleyway and God knows how long did you stay there. You probably wanted to go home when you crossed a road but the traffic light was red. The driver of the car didn’t notice you in time and hit you. Even the ambulance couldn’t save you. When they arrived, you had already died,” his voice shook a little as he said ‘died’ out loud. I felt like my heart was in the abyss of sorrow; it gripped me from the very first word and didn’t let me go. I was shivering and my mind was full of crazily scattered imaginations. Pain was slowly engulfing my heart and encaging my thoughts. I gulped.

“Thank you for letting us see your beautiful soul! You were the most unselfish friend we’ve ever had. It’s cruel of this world to take you away from us because unlike Taehyung or Jimin, you didn’t want to end your life. You just wanted to forget about the pain. I hope, wherever you are now, you can’t feel pain. I hope you smile there like you always did and watch out for me,” he suddenly looked up at the sky, his eyes wandering, looking for Jungkook’s place among the invisible stars. His lips were slowly dissolving into a bittersweet smile. “Thank you for being with us, Jeon Jungkook,” he croaked and looked down at his own hands which were holding the polaroid tightly. He let out a sorrowful sigh. His hands were slightly shaky when he reached out to me, waiting for another pile of lily. I handed it to him but my heart broke when our eyes met. The usual affectionate glint in his eyes was gone; it was replaced by grief. I had never seen him so broken.

When he put the flower and the polaroid on the grave, he waited a minute before he stood up. I saw as he tried to wipe away his tears with his thumbs. I knew it was still not the end of our trip but I didn’t assume that he would hold back his tears for so long. Maybe it was because he rather accepted his friends’ decisions than the twists of fate.

Then, he reached out to another polaroid and started talking again.

“Min Yoongi, my dear friend,” he let out a sigh and cleared his throat before he continued. “You had a lot of different sides but despite being grumpy in the mornings, you know that even the younger ones really liked you. You were exceptionally hard-working and when you put your mind to something, you could always succeed. You were also quite amusing and made us laugh several times. The kids liked to tease you about being lazy but you would never mind their bickering. You would never admit it but deep in your heart, you really cared about all of us. You were the first to jump into the water after Taehyung committed suicide and the first to break down into tears when you heard the news of Jimin’s death. But as you always said, your biggest fear consumed you in the end,” he drew another heavy sigh and shifted his gaze away.

I respected him with all my heart; how he could talk about such sorrowful things was absolutely honourable. He didn’t hide anything, his soul was completely bare yet full of wounds. He was almost like a moon flower; it bloomed in the dazzling moonlight until its worst enemy approached the flower. Like the sunlight for the moon flower, memories were grandfather’s toughest opponents. As soon as the sun came up, as soon as memories began to tear him apart, he closed. I hope I could help him this time if he wanted to close again.

“You had pyromania but you could control it well, even experts didn’t believe in your progress after you had showed signs when you were young,” he slowly shifted his attention back to the grave, his eyes full of the most beautiful shining stars of dismay. “Your parents always cared about you but you became distant with them and even moved out when you had turned 20. So, they stated that it was because of us; we were the ones who motivated you to control your urges. You didn’t even start a fire when you were with us, just sometimes played with the lighter but nothing serious. However, after the death of three of our friends, you couldn’t take it back. When you were around us, you didn’t show any sign of fear but at home, you probably struggled a lot because in the end, that’s how you ended your own life. By burning up your room and yourself. Doctors said that when you started the fire, you just wanted to relieve tension and never actually thought that you would die because that’s how addicts think,” he trailed off and gulped. His lips were quivering. “It didn’t help to wash our pain away,” he stammered with subtle voice and that was the moment when he didn’t want to hide his tears anymore. He lifted his head up, his eyes shining with proud teardrops, slowly spilling down his cheeks.

“Thank you for always caring about us and overcoming your fear when you were with us! You were such a strong and brave person because you were able to say no to your urges and lead a healthier life. You taught us how to fight against our enemies, even if it’s our own mind who we fight against. There are so many things that we could learn from you and you had a huge influence on the younger ones even if you wouldn’t call it that,” he said and stopped for a moment. “Thank you for being with us, Min Yoongi,” he bowed respectfully, almost in a 90-degree angle. 

Soon, the first teardrop landed on the surface of the grave. He wasn’t crying helplessly like a starving person craving for food; he was merely sobbing silently like he didn’t even want to break the peaceful silence. I also tried not to bother him but I couldn’t take my tears back. The more I played his memories in my head, the more I wanted to cry. I was wretched, wounded and enraged at the same time. How could this world be so cruel? How could fate write such endings for these boys? It didn’t seem right. The world suddenly became a big, cruel mess for me.

Grandfather put down the picture and the lily on the grave without any word. I tried to wipe away my tears but to no avail. As much as I wanted to run away and cry until I dozed off, I also wanted to stay beside him until the end. I still had some questions to ask and I still believed that I could only do justice to grandfather’s friends if I listened to all of their stories.

“Jung Hoseok, my dear friend,” he stepped to another grave and got out another polaroid from his pocket. It was torn as well but the smile on the boy’s face was so radiant that I couldn’t see anything, expect his joyful grin. He was the definition of that so-called light, someone whose smile was definitely sincere. “You were always such an energetic, light-hearted person, a beaming light in the darkest times. You never really cared whether you looked ridiculous until you could make someone smile with your behaviour. You smiled a lot and laughed a lot. When we were down, you were the one who pulled us through the hardships and showed us that there are always happier times waiting for us. You were caring, sincere and loyal, a truly amazing friend. I’m sorry that we couldn’t help you,” he suddenly admitted and his voice sounded so weary and extremely painful. “I’m sorry we couldn’t find a way to help your insomnia.”

I gasped for air; I felt like the words triggered so many emotions at once that the atmosphere became unbearably suffocating. I found it even harder to breathe as he continued.

“You had to take pills for your disorder and it helped at first. You said that you still found it hard to sleep at nights, mostly because of pressure to do well on your exams but you slept well when you could. We were relieved. It never affected our friendship since you controlled it well like Yoongi did but we were still worried about you. Your smiles were the only ones that could set us at ease. However, the more of our friends died, the more you couldn’t sleep. The pain was even unbearable when you were awake, so I can’t even imagine how much you could have struggled because you weren’t able to sleep. You mentioned that the others were hunting you in your dreams when you finally fell asleep and it scarred you to death. You didn’t even think it through, you just took more and more of those pills and it helped to release some of the pain. One day, you went too far and overdosed yourself. I wish it hadn’t happened like that. You, like Yoongi, probably didn’t know what you did, just wanted to get away from the pain. I wish we had done more but we couldn’t,” he shook his head in disbelief and went silent for some seconds. My tears kept sliding down but I didn’t mind. Sometimes tears could say more than words; sometimes it was the only way to show how we really felt.

“Thank you for being a warm-hearted, considerate and cheerful friend! Thank you for being our guiding light in the darkest times and showing us that life is beautiful even if obstacles occur. Thank you for making us smile when even you weren’t in the mood to smile. You were the one who we could lean on and you always put others’ happiness before yours. You were the source of light and joy in our lives. Without you, our days would have been so much harder,” grandfather sobbed and looked more broken than ever. “Thank you for being with us, Jung Hoseok,” he cried out in pain and dropped to the grave.

I immediately hurried to him, observing if his condition had anything to do with his poor health but it didn’t seem so. When I gently patted his back, he turned to face me and I didn’t even know how to phrase the expression on his face. You know, when you see a sun going down and you have this ambivalent feeling, that odd combination of happiness and sadness. Looking at the sunset, you are aware that something is over and something is still on the way. Maybe that’s how I could portray him; he was terribly hurt and somewhat gloriously calm at the same time.

“Grandfather−“ I started but was cut off by him.

“It’s okay. I-I will just need some minutes to re-arrange my thoughts,” he muttered and I obligated, still in the state of shock. I didn’t even intend to stop my tears from falling because I didn’t want to. All I wanted to do was to let it all out and clear my mind. I was terrified and his memories were haunting me whenever my eyes were slipping shut. There’s no doubt that I believed him, I believed every of his words but I still couldn’t believe the fact that life could be so cruel to them. Having 6 friends is an amazing gift but losing all of them is a horrible curse. How would anyone expect you to move on and forget the pain? I’m not at all surprised that grandfather had episodes several times and even spent years at a mental institute. Now it was all clear why.

Some moments later, he got up again and put the photo with the lily on the grave. He didn’t hesitate before he took a step forward to the last grave. He let out a sigh. He looked at a new photo which showed a laughing guy sitting on the floor, half of his face covered by his hoodie.

“Kim Namjoon, my dear friend,” his voice came out hoarse as he started to speak. “You were always like the leader of the team as you took care of each of us. You liked to tease us when we made a mistake but never forgot to support us whenever we needed encouragement. I guess you put a good balance between strictness and affection. Even if the younger ones liked to make fun of you and your hilarious dance moves, you couldn’t really mind. You liked to make us laugh and know that everything’s going well,” he stopped and pursed his lips a little. My heart always melted a bit when I heard the beginning description of grandfather’s friends but immediately became icy when he continued. The case of Namjoon was no exception.

“You were an orphan; your parents adopted you when you were only 6 years old. You spent your whole life at an orphanage and began to work in the hope of renting a flat for yourself. You worked at a gas station, helping customers but people looked down on you, especially after hearing those rumours about us. Some even stated that Jungkook was hit by either you or me and some said that we encouraged others to commit suicide. The worst was that they began to think that we would follow them, that we would also commit suicide and almost waited for us to do so. They feared you at the orphanage and you started to fear yourself as well. I remember having a talk with you one day about the future. You said that I needed to survive, no matter what. To prove them wrong. I had no idea then that you said that because you wanted to end your own life,” he shook his head in disbelief and his whole body was trembling. 

Even though sunshine was filling up the afternoon silence of the graveyard, everything was grey for me. I didn’t feel warmth, I didn’t feel happiness, I only felt pain and sorrow. I couldn’t imagine that I would ever commit suicide but under such circumstances, I quite understood why these boys did. Not only did they have to wake up each day for the absence of their friends but they also had to bear the gossip and people around them. Not only did the world abandon them but also people who should have helped. What kind of wicked game was it?

“One day, you were left alone working at the gas station and no customers were in sight for a longer period. So you casually lit up a cigarette, then throw it onto the ground and let the flames unite with fuel. According to the CCTV cameras, you perfectly planned it because there wasn’t any sign of fear or regret on your face. By the time the neighbours noticed the fire, the gas station had already exploded. The firefighters could put off the fire but they couldn’t save you. You left me without saying goodbye, just asking me to survive,” his voice shook a little as the last words left his mouth. Tears were streaming down his face, slowly and augustly. He still remained invincible, he still stood there like a wonderful state of art.

“Thank you for being the glue within our friends. Without you, we might have fallen apart but because you were always there, we maintained our relationship despite any arguments and the growing tension as our friends were leaving. Thank you for always encouraging us to keep going and helping us to find our ways. We needed a compass like you to know where our map is leading us. Even though you left us, left me, your last message was important and I never forgot what you said,” he sniffled as he put the photo and the last pile of lily on the grave. He remained silent for a minute and didn’t even budge a bit. “Thank you for being with us, Kim Namjoon,” he broke down into tears and heavy sobs again as he said goodbye to his last friend.

He crouched down, burying his face in his hands while he let out all those tears and pain which he held back during the previous year. Even if he didn’t make noise, even if he didn’t scream violently or yelling at those graves, it was still extremely difficult to look at him. He was hurt, he was broken and he was all alone. His friends left him and nobody could feel the way he did. Nobody could understand him as well as they would have done if they hadn’t died. He was struggling, he was dying every single second, yearning after his friends.

“You all left me by 13th June and I couldn’t do anything but suffer. I missed you and it hurt so much. The pain was unbearable but every time I thought I would give up, I remembered what Namjoon had said and lifted my head up. Because people needed to know what kind of friends I had. What beautiful and brave friends accompanied me throughout my younger years. You were my youth and the moment I was left alone, it was all gone. I know that you are never coming back again,” he cried out in pain and didn’t move for the next 30 minutes.

Chaos erupted in my head as I also fell onto the ground. I cried so hard when I remembered for what grandfather had always said to me. It all made sense now.

Youth is never coming back.

EPILOGUE

“Grandpa?” I asked hesitantly as we were sitting on the bus, heading back to my parents’ house. It was, I believe, almost half an hour after we had both let out all our emotions.

“Yes, Nari-ah?” he looked at me curiously, furrowing his eyebrows in question. His eyes were still a little bit teary and swollen but so were mine. I don’t remember crying so hard for so long all my life before. I must have looked scary and terrible but I didn’t mind.

“I have some questions,” I stated confidently but the reluctance in my voice didn’t go unnoticed. I didn’t know whether or not I had the permission to ask questions but I was undoubtedly curious. “Would you mind answering them?”

“I would be surprised if you didn’t have questions,” he responded and his face slowly dissolved into an affectionate smile. “Of course I wouldn’t mind answering them. Go ahead!” he encouraged me and even pressed my hand gently which he was holding for some minutes now. We didn’t talk after we had left the graveyard but grandfather’s hand immediately found mine. His touch soothed my nerves a little and I guess he wasn’t the only one who needed reassurance.

“Did you make those polaroids?” I started, still trying to erase all those delighted faces from my memory. It hurt so much. Knowing how little did the world need to push them off the cliff. One moment, they were together, laughing freely and teasing each other and in the next minute, it was all falling apart. They were gone, one by one, until grandfather was left alone, in the abyss of endless sorrow.

“I’ve made them myself,” he nodded slowly and pondered over for a thought. “I got a camera from my parents when I turned 18 and I always tried to capture our happiest moments. As I was rummaging through a cupboard last week, I found these polaroids and thought about giving them to the boys,” he continued absent-mindedly and the fact that he still called his friends ‘the boys’ made my heart ache. He was right, they were still boys when they left him, but it was heart-wrenching to think about it.

“Okay, then,” I gulped and mustered all my courage. “Who was Boyeon? Was she Jimin’s love?” I inquired and a slight twinkle appeared in his chocolate-brown eyes.

“Ah, yes, I forgot that you don’t know her,” he massaged his temple nervously as he realised that I had never even heard of Boyeon. It wasn’t a surprise since there was a big chapter of grandfather’s life that I was never permitted to read. Yet, now that he shared it with me, maybe he could also answer some of my questions. “Yes, indeed she was. But I guess they were more than lovers, they were almost soulmates. Their bond was so strong and despite Jimin suffering after Taehyung’s death and pushing her away, Boyeon never once thought of leaving him. They met a year before Jimin died and we were so happy they found each other. Boyeon was a truly wonderful young lady; smiley, optimistic, cheerful, childish and a little bit cocky. We ate together several times as she always cooked meals for us and she actually liked spending time with the 7 of us,” he continued and a kind of bittersweet nostalgia seemed to have taken hold of him. He was smiling sheepishly, simply out of the sudden joy that the memories triggered.

“How is she doing now?”

“Well,” he rubbed his chin, probably wondering how he should phrase what he wanted to say. “I had a phone call from her last week and she said that she was doing just fine. But if you want to know, she could never fall in love with another man after Jimin had died. She was beautiful and captivating indeed, lots of boys wanted to approach her but I guess she never felt the way with them than the way she did when she was with Jimin. I believe that’s what they call ever-lasting love,” he said absent-mindedly and turned to face me again. I think it was obvious that was only my second question and not the last.

“How did you know about how your friends died? I mean, in Jungkook’s case, you wasn’t there when those guys attacked him,” I gestured intensely as I tried to let him know what I didn’t get. His narration was so real, like he saw everything with his own eyes but it was impossible.

“Well, in Jungkook’s case, I only know about this particular detail because after they had filed a police report about the accident, those boys also admitted what they had done. They felt shameful because he died after they had beaten him up, so they wanted to report themselves. As for Jimin, her mother was the one who found him in the bathtub and every sign and the doctors’ examinations implied that he had drown himself. It was the same with Yoongi and Hoseok; the investigations showed that their disorders were the cause of their death. And for Namjoon, it was the CCTV that revealed everything,” he looked out of the window while he answered but I couldn’t blame him for it. It must have been so difficult for him, even if it happened decades ago. Even if I was only listening to the boys’ stories and not experiencing it, I was still in the state of shock and I assumed that I would be for a long time.

It was maybe the most sensitive topic which I was about to broach but I couldn’t hold it back anymore. It was time for me to ask about him.

“And what happened to you? That’s why you were at the mental institute, right?” I looked straight into his eyes which suddenly widened.

“How do you know about that?” he wrinkled his nose nervously but his tone wasn’t abusive, just merely curious.

“Grandma told me once,” I admitted with a sheepish smile but he didn’t seem to mind it. I was always a bit nosy and when I once freaked out about grandfather’s mysterious atmosphere, she shared this little detail with me. It was not too long before she died and I guess it’s one of the reasons why I would have never wanted to ask about his youth.

“And your grandmother also told you that she was a nurse at that mental institute and that’s how we met?” he glanced at me but I couldn’t even muster a single word. My jaw dropped and my heart missed a beat. I mean, I knew that grandmother was a doctor but she was working at a hospital as far as I could remember. “Before she became a doctor at the Yangji Hospital, she was working with me and other patients at the institute. I couldn’t make sensible decisions then, so my parents got me out of university and decided that it would be the best if I stayed at a mental institute. I stayed there for 6 years. Your grandmother was my consultant and helped me through all those dark years,” he smiled thankfully and still didn’t let go of my hands. 6 years. 6 friends. It couldn’t be a coincidence.

I didn’t want to ask more about his years at the institute because it must have been a hell for him. I didn’t want to dig too deep and there was still a lot of time for us to talk about it or at least I hoped so. However, this confession explained why grandmother and grandfather’s relationship was so strong and admirable. They were always close and didn’t even raise their voices during any kind of argument. They were patient and considerate towards each other. As far as I could remember, they had a long and happy marriage.

“And why do you always carry lilies with you?” I asked as my last question but it piqued my curiosity from the start. “This has something to do with the fact that my name means lily?” I glanced at him shyly. My name was Nari which meant ‘lily’ in Korean and knowing that everything had a meaning in grandfather’s life, I was suspicious about the flower as well.

“Well, you know people always bring lilies to the loved one’s graves. But do you know why?” I just shook my head. I had no idea. “They say that it symbolizes that the soul of the departed has received restored innocence after death. This is also why your name means innocence and purity. I just wanted to protect you from all those terrible things that my friends received by suggesting this name to your parents and they somehow accepted. I hope you don’t mind,” he coyly scratched the back of his neck and looked at me, his eyes full of fear. Love sprung through my veins and I felt my heart melting after his affectionate words.

“No, I don’t mind. Actually, I love it,” I bobbed my head thankfully and gave him a thankful gaze. He smiled back at me and when we got off the bus, we still didn’t let go of each other’s hands. He needed me just as much as I needed him. He shared my secret with him and so I shared my youth with him.

#bts #hyyh #bts scenarios #bts imagines #bts angst #bts hyyh #bts drama #jin scenarios #jin imagines #jin angst #jin drama #jin hyyh #seokjin scenarios #seokjin imagines #seokjin angst #seokjin drama #seokjin hyyh #my story #restlessmaknae

[jetsetlife138]

Imaginary - Chapter 1

Fandom: Hazbin Hotel Rating: Mature for this chapter, but Explicit in future chapters Pairing: Alastor x Fem!Reader Summary: You come across a device that throws you into the animated world of Hazbin Hotel. Once an average human living in a three-dimensional world, you’re now transformed into a two-dimensional human that has been cast into Hell. The inhabitants of Hell are curious and most harbor ill-will towards you. Charlie and the staff of the Happy Hotel take you in and offer you protection while they try and figure out how to return you to your world. That is… until you come across a certain Radio Demon with different intentions. Chapter Warnings: Alternate Universe, Canon divergence, language, drug references

Note:  This first chapter is kind of a tease for where the story could go. I wasn’t sure how it would go over with an audience, so I’m eager for some feedback. As the story goes on, it will focus around the Reader and Alastor’s relationship. 

Agony. That’s the only word one could use to describe what you had been through. One minute, you were shopping at your local thrift store inspecting an old remote control, and the next minute you were thrown into a black hole. Your body had felt like it had been ripped apart and messily thrown back together over and over again as you continued to float through time and space. It was a sensation unlike anything you had ever experienced and never wanted to again. 

Your head felt so heavy. It was difficult to tell whether or not you were still floating or if you were finally stagnant. Reaching your arms out, the palms of your hands were met with a hard, flat surface, letting you know that you were steady on solid ground.

It was difficult to decipher the noises around you considering there was a loud ringing in your ears, but from what you could tell it sounded like multiple hisses and whispers. Strangely, the thought of that brought you a bit of comfort. At least you weren’t dying alone… if that was really what was happening.

Using all of your remaining energy, you started to focus on the voices around you.

“What is it?”

“Dipshit, what does it look like? It’s a human.”

“It’s a girl!”

“A girl?”

“No, it’s a woman!”

“Is she dead?”

“Doesn’t look like it.”

“How the fuck did a human get here?”

“Can we eat her?”

Whoa, what? It was incredibly overwhelming. Clearly there was a group of people surrounding you, and trying to differentiate each voice was negatively impacting your already fragile state of mind. They couldn’t possibly be saying what you thought they were saying.

Hesitantly, you opened your eyes, blinking a few times due to the brightness. After allowing your vision to focus, your breath caught in your throat at the sight. Everything was… animated? On top of that, you seemed to be surrounded by freaky creatures; things that you would only see in nightmares. Oh shit. What kind of drugs were you on? Did you accidentally drop acid? Did someone sneak an insane amount of magic mushrooms into your lunch? No, no, no, this couldn’t be possible.

Rubbing your eyes and looking around once more, much to your dismay, your surroundings remained the same. One of the creatures took a step closer to you, causing you to instinctually raise your hands defensively. When you saw your own hands, you outwardly yelped. They, too, were animated and now only two-dimensional.

You felt nauseous. Your whole world was crashing down around you. It couldn’t be real. It had to be a freaky nightmare. But then… why weren’t you waking up?

Looking around, your eyes met one of the creepy creatures. She appeared to be a cross between a human and a snake, her eyes glowing yellow as she stared daggers at you.

“Wh-where am I?” you croaked, your voice hoarse and thick with emotion.

The snake creature cackled before hissing back at you, “Isn’t it obvious, girl? You’re in Hell!”

Hell? Is that what happened? You died, plummeted to Hell, and this was your eternal torment?

When you didn’t respond, one of the other creatures grew impatient, addressing you with a thunderous voice, “Why do you still look human? Are you alive or dead?”

“I don’t… I don’t know,” you murmured, shaking your head, still trying to cope with your current predicament.

Suddenly, you felt a firm grip on your arm as one of the creatures grabbed you harshly, raising you to your feet. “I call dibs! Finders keepers!”

“That’s bullshit!” one of the others called out, snarling. “I saw her first!”

The others burst out in arguments, trying to determine which of them would take ownership of you. It terrified you to hear things like, “Can I have her left arm?” or “I’ll take her foot!”

Just as you were about to have a complete mental breakdown, a voice cut through the crowd. “Get your hands off of her!”

The crowd parted to reveal a less terrifying looking creature, who seemed to be more human-like than the rest of the animalistic mob. At first glance, she seemed to be a girl with wide eyes, long blonde hair, and suspenders, giving her a somewhat innocent appearance.

“She’s coming with me,” she declared, though her demeanor was timid, almost as if she was unsure of herself.

“Over my dead body!” one of the other creatures bellowed, followed by multiple jeers of agreement by the rest.

The girl snarled, catching you off-guard when her face temporarily morphed into something else entirely. Horns sprouted from her head while her eyes glared with red hues. Baring her sharp teeth, her menacing expression instantly silenced the others. After a brief moment, she effortlessly returned to her former and much less terrifying self. “As princess of Hell and heir to the throne, I hereby decree that she is under my protection… um… until further notice. Okay?”

Suddenly, you were shoved from behind, causing you to stumble towards the princess who had basically just claimed ownership over you.

She met your eyes with a tender smile, placing a hand on your shoulder and whispering, “You’re safe, I promise. Just stick with me.”

All you could manage was a grateful nod of your head, still not able to properly speak.

As the two of you walked away, you could hear the others behind you hissing and growling in disapproval, apparently disappointed that they weren’t able to have their way with you.

Your mind was in a fog as you followed the princess, feeling woozy as you took in more of your surroundings. There’s no way this could have been a dream. It felt too real. On top of that, there was no way that you were creative enough to come up with an entire world such as the one you were in. This was a version of Hell that you never could have fathomed, but it was all too authentic.

“My name is Charlie, by the way,” the princess greeted, cutting through the awkward silence. “Well, actually, it’s Charlotte, but everyone calls me Charlie.”

Barely managing a smile, you nodded before stuttering out your first name in return. 

“It’s so great to meet you!” she beamed. “So, um… how did you end up here? We’ve never had an actual live human here before! This is so crazy! Where did you come from?”

It was obvious that she was trying to contain her excitement, but her curiosity was getting the better of her. You couldn’t blame her. You were also just as curious about the other inhabitants of Hell as they were of you, but you couldn’t quite form enough words to ask her any of the things that you wanted to. It was difficult enough to try and cope with your current predicament. 

“Honestly… I don’t know how I got here. The last thing I remember was going shopping with my friends. Next thing I know, I’m here, looking like a cartoon.”

“A cartoon?” she questioned. “What’s that?”

You gawked at her for a moment. Did she really not know? “Um… it’s what you are. An animation. A drawing.”

She continued to stare at you, clearly not understanding what you were trying to explain. How were you supposed to clarify? “In my world, we look different. This world is two-dimensional, and we’re three-dimensional where I come from. The way you and your world looks… it’s what we call a cartoon. It’s… difficult to explain.” "I see..." she trailed off, clearly uncertain of how to respond to that kind of information."  "So, um," you began, awkwardly wringing your hands. "What were those things back there? You seem different than them. More... like me, I guess."  She smiled warmly at you, easing the tension a bit. "Those are Sinners, the inhabitants of this Ring of Hell. They were alive once, but now they're here in our Kingdom. Their appearance is less human-like because once they arrive in Hell, they become demons and lose some of their human attributes. They can be a little... aggressive." That was putting it mildly. "I look different because I'm not from the human world. I was born here in Hell."  "That's... bizarre," you commented more to yourself than to her. 

“Well, we can talk more about it later when you’ve had a chance to relax. We’re almost there!” she squealed with excitement.

“Where are we going?” you inquired.

Her eyes grew larger with a certain sparkle as she raved, “The Happy Hotel! Vaggie, the manager and I opened it together! It’s the first facility to have its own demon-rehabilitating program!”

She beamed with pride as she spoke of it, but everything she said was nonsense. “You have your own demon-rehabilitating facility? ...In Hell? Does that really work?”

“Well…” she murmured unsuredly. “It’s still in the beginning stages. It’s a work-in-progress, but we’ve just employed some new staff members that’s really bringing it all together!”

This entire conversation was absurd. In what universe was this an actual topic of discussion? Well… apparently this one. It was extremely difficult to wrap your brain around, and you weren’t sure if you were ever going to come to terms with it.

“We’re here!” she revealed, her demeanor absolutely giddy. It was obvious that she was proud of her work.

Looking up, you took in the large building. It was… insane. It defied all logic. The alleged hotel was a mix of a grandeur building constructed out of things that had no place there, such as a train engine and a large boat. It reminded you of a glitch in the Matrix or something. On top of that, it seemed a bit run-down, and could obviously use some work, but maybe that’s just how things looked in Hell. Oh, yeah. You were definitely going crazy. 

She led you inside where you were met with an incredible and regal entryway. The architecture was… bizarre, for lack of a better word, which matched its outer appearance. Everything was exaggerated, just as it would be in a wacky, fantastical animation.

Stepping further into the hallway, you saw a mirror out of the corner of your eye. Hesitantly approaching it, you were finally able to take in your full appearance. You couldn’t help but laugh when you saw your reflection. It seemed that you were still very much yourself, but your features were altered to fit the universe you were now in. It was surreal to say the least.

Charlie approached you from behind, speaking softly, probably to keep from startling you. “Just sit tight for a minute, okay? I’m gonna go grab Vaggie.”

Nodding, you watched her skip down the hall and disappear, leaving you alone with your thoughts. What were you going to do now? How were you going to get home? Could you even leave this place? How was she going to keep you safe from those other creatures that wanted to kill you?

As you mind flooded with questions, a chill in the air caught your attention. A high-pitched ringing made you flinch as you rubbed your ears, confused as to where it was coming from.

You were caught off-guard when an unnatural static-filled voice spoke from behind you. “Well, hello there, my dear.”

Tags: @beetlewise-and-pennyjuice @edgy-drama-queen

#hazbin hotel #alastor #Multi-Chapter #slow burn #kind of #alastor x reader #alastor x you #hazbin alastor #charlie magne

[stillebesat]

White Lies (4/5)

Sanders Sides: Deceit, Virgil, Logan, Roman, Patton Sequel to Little Lies Blurb: Deceit has been stuck in his ‘role’ as Dilyn for almost a year now. It’s about time he changed that. Fic Type: Hurt/Comfort, Tiny!Sides Inspiration: From @yay-cats9‘s wonderful Fanart she did for Little Lies. <3 Again thank you for the artwork! I love it! Overall Fic Warnings: Deceit, Negative Self Talk, Panic/Anxiety Attacks, Manipulation talk, Kinda Imprisonment?

To Catch Up: Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3

Deceit’s fists trembled as he struggled wrap his mind around--he had to be dreaming. Because---because-h-how could his powers work up here?! They weren’t supposed to while he was a chil--

A tidal wave of darkness burst from Virgil and engulfed Deceit with enough force to knock him off his feet. 

He cried out, instinctively curling into a ball as he flew backwards, wincing as his back slammed into the bars of the railing.

Deceit gasped, struggling for air as he fell to the ground. His hands curled up tighter, nails digging into the palms of his hands as he pressed them against his chest while he struggled to get his lungs working again. A difficult task when it seemed like the thick, heavy blanket of shadows were weighing him with increasing pressure, seemingly trying to flatten him like a pancake against the wood of the deck. 

Trapped. 

GET UP.

Deceit gritted his teeth, squeezing his eyes shut as he tried to push to his knees.

If he’d been his normal size, it would have been so much easier. 

As a child? Fighting against the shadows was like trying to lift a bus.

Impossible.

Some Gatekeeper.

FIGHT BACK!

A soft whimper escaped him as he managed to get to his knees, his knuckles white and palms aching from hard he was squeezing his hands, certain that it was the only thing keeping him from being squeezed into nothingness by Anxiety. 

Fight! 

Dee gritted his teeth, slowly forcing his head up away from the floor, trembling with the effort. 

Make eye contact.

It would be easier to fight if he could see what Vee was doing. If he could take control of more than Anxiety’s hands.

It was the only way.

He had to do this. He had to--to--defeat Virgil and--and-

Dee managed to look up in time to see the swirling shadows split enough for him to catch a brief glimpse of Vee’s pale, terrified face. His hands still pressed against his mouth.

And what?

Go back to being hated by everyone?

He recoiled. NO!

The shadows surged forward again, taking advantage of Deceit’s momentary weakness, and shoved him back down to the ground. 

Useless. 

FIGHT BACK.

You’re NOTHING if you’re not Deceit!

This is what HAS to be done.

To protect Thomas you HAVE to be DECEIT!

You HAVE to CONTROL the OTHERS. 

Did he? 

Deceit’s fingers spasmed against his chest, Vee’s terrified face etched into his mind.

Did he really have to be big, bad, evil Deceit? 

YES!

No.

He shook his head, breath hitching as his thoughts raced and swirled trying to--to make sense--to figure out--i

Because if he--if he went back to being Deceit, then--then--

He could see his path back to being the bad guy it all too clearly. 

Once he defeated Virgil’s shadows, Deceit would prevent Anxiety from warning the others. He would then go down the steps to the party below. He would grab at the air, once more using his powers to force the Big Three to bend to his will. Force them to stay silent to protect Thomas from the things he didn’t want to know about himself. Force them to see the bigger picture of how to keep Thomas safe. 

No longer working with them. 

No longer being welcomed. 

No longer having a battle of wits with Logan.

No longer going on mini adventures with Roman.

No longer experimenting with new recipes in the kitchen with Patton. 

And definitely no longer playing lookout with Virgil when the former Dark Side would let him. 

Deceit would become nothing more than the bad guy again. Hated. Despised.

His heart stuttered in his chest at the thought, feeling like it was tearing in half.

He didn’t want to be hated again.

That’s your JOB!

You are here to do the HARD things.

You are the GATEKEEPER.

You NEED to PROTECT THOMAS!

Dee sniffed, eyes burning.

But if--If Thomas actually needed him...then wouldn’t he have been back to normal by now? He’d been gone a year from his position as the Gatekeeper and Thomas was still alive. Still functioning. The others were minding themselves without his constant interference and guidance. With only the brief token appearances by Roman or Virgil pretending to be him.

He doesn’t need you. 

Dee choked on a sob as he stopped fighting the shadows, letting their black weight hold him down though they could do nothing to get his hands to relax to free Virgil. 

Thomas doesn’t need you. 

He hunched his shoulders, fists shaking, soft whimpers caught in his throat as he tried to control the tears flowing unchecked down his cheeks by pressing his face into the cloak Vee had made for him.

Made for him because he cared.

Like he’ll care anymore.

No one cares for the Bad Guy.

And by trying to be Deceit again, he had proved himself to be just the villain and ruined everything good that had happened in the past yea--

Warmth suddenly enveloped him, lifting him up and away from the weighty darkness, gently rocking him back and forth as a soft humming reached his ears. 

~You may be right, but I’ll prove you wrong.~ The lyrics came to mind as the humming shifted into the familiar song that Virgil had sung for a week straight once to annoy him. ~We’ll both find out in time if they’re lies, lies, lies, lies, lieeeessss.~

Virgil.

Deceit cracked open an eye, glancing up through his lashes to the former Dark Side. 

Virgil had his arms awkwardly around him, despite his hands still firmly being pressed against his mouth, holding Dee protectively in his lap.

Trapped.

Virgil will NEVER like you now. 

EVER. 

Deceit flinched, hands clenching tighter against his chest which caused Virgil’s own hands to press harder against his mouth.

The humming faltered and a tremor shook Virgil’s body as he glanced down, the shadows behind him swirling like a black kaleidoscope. 

Deceit stiffened further, heart rate picking up as their eyes met, his fingernails digging deeper into the skin of his palms.

NO NO NO. But Deceit couldn’t force himself to relax. It was like his hands had frozen in place.

Some Gatekeeper. 

But there wasn’t hatred in Virgil’s gaze. The shadows didn’t attack again.

No. There was only--only…concern? Worry?

Why would Anxiety be worried for him and NOT HATE him?!

Virgil closed his eyes, breaking eye contact first as he bowed his head, keeping a steady pressure on Deceit. Softly, he began humming again, rocking Dee back and forth in a soothing manner.

~I won’t let them be lies, lies, lies, lies, lieeeeessss. I’m doing fine.~ 

Deceit swallowed, heart pounding frantically in his chest as he buried his head against Anxiety’s chest, his mind racing as he listened to the song. 

Virgil would never have done this before. He would have fought back with his Shadows, forced Deceit back into the subconscious. 

Yet--Anxiety was--was comforting him, helping him despite the fact that Deceit couldn’t get his fingers to uncurl.

Some Gatekeeper.

His breath hitched as his fingers spasmed. 

Come on.

Come. On! 

~I won’t let them be lies, lies, lies, lies, lieeeeessss. I’m doing fine.~ 

Virgil was helping him! He--he had to help him back. Free Vee. 

Deceit closed his eyes, forcing himself to draw in deeper breaths.

Thomas didn’t need him.

Didn’t need the Gatekeeper.

He didn’t need to silence Virgil. 

Not when he was trying to help.

Deceit had to free him.

Eyes burning, more betraying tears slipping down his cheeks, Deceit uncurled his fingers in one swift movement, dropping his hands to his sides, finally freeing Anxiety from his hold. 

Thomas doesn’t need me. 

Virgil stilled, abruptly going silent. 

Deceit hunched his shoulders, smushing his face against Vee’s hoodie. 

He should just...leave. Go where he couldn’t--couldn’t si-silence an-anyone a-again--

He sobbed as Vee ran gentle fingers through his hair. 

“Shh. Shh.” Virgil whispered. “It’s okay Dee. I got you. It’s okay. You’re okay.” 

Apologize. He--he needed to do that--to try--try---

“I’m--I’m---s--s-sorry.” He managed to choke out.

Sorry doesn’t FIX it. You SILENCED him. HE--

A quiet sigh cut through Deceit’s spinning thoughts as Anxiety held him tighter. “No, Dee.” Virgil said. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have--that was stupid to give you anxiety to deepen--I just wanted to--” 

Deceit curled up further in Virgil’s lap. “…help?” He asked, his voice sounding so small compared to his normal kid tones. 

Virgil trailed his fingers lightly down his scaled cheek, drawing the faintest traces of smoke--the last of the ill-gotten anxiety from him. “Yah.” 

Some Gatekeeper.

If you hadn’t been so weak. It could have WORKED!

For who? 

It was clear that his year spent with the Big Four had...well changed him more than he thought.

Before it wouldn’t have bothered him to silence anyone. Deceit had purposely kept himself apart to do so in good conscience. He’d kept himself from growing close to anyone so he could be the Gatekeeper. So he could protect Thomas.

Thomas doesn’t need you. 

Deceit wrapped his arms around Vee, hugging him as best he could with his short arms.

Some Gatekeeper. Seeking comfort. 

“You did help. Lots.” He whispered. 

Not in the way he wanted.

But it was clear.

He couldn’t be--act like his old self anymore.

Vee scoffed even as he held him tighter. “But I thought you wanted to be Decei--” 

 “I...I…” Deceit--Dee? swallowed, struggling to get the words out. He should want it. He had wanted it. He was supposed to be Deceit. The Dark Side. The Gatekeeper. But now...now that he had a chance for a taste of being---good---liked---Dee let out a shaky breath, twisting his head to rest his cheek more comfortably against Vee’s chest as he dropped the hug. 

It wasn’t Virgil’s fault that he didn’t know what he wanted anymore. He’d been so certain walking out onto the balcony. But now? Dee looked down at his trembling hands. After silencing Virgil and seeing that flash of terror in his eyes before the shadows had attacked him? 

He shivered. “I--I don’t know…” He mumbled, voice wavering. “I thought I wanted--Vee…but you...scared.” He swallowed, forcing himself to look up at Virgil, his heart twisting at the reddened handprints still fading over his mouth. “I...I know I don’t want that.” He whispered as Virgil raised an eyebrow, his eyes shining with concern. Not with hatred. Or with terror at being silenced. Concern. For Dece--Dee--for him. 

Dee’s vision blurred as he struggled to get the words out over the lump forming in his throat.

Weakling.

Gatekeepers don’t cry like little useless babies. 

But that’s what he was now. A child. Nothing more. “I-I do-don’t want you--o-or-th-the others---to--to...h-hate me again and--and--and if I-I’m De-Deceit.” He reached up, roughly brushing at his scales as more tears ran down them. “You will.”

To Be Continued Chapter 5

Taglist in Reblog

#White Lies #stillebesat #Sanders Sides #Deceit #Virgil #Anxiety #Tiny!Deceit #negative self talk tw #panic attack tw #anxiety attack tw #manipulation talk tw #trapped tw #imprisonment tw

[nyeonisparks]

Once upon a time, I lived in a shit village, with shitty people, and a vexatious admirer, the end. Welcome to the life of Shizuo Heiwajima. I've lived in this village my whole life. At first it was fine, I was a kid being a kid, but once I got a little older, my entire life changed. You see, I have anger issues, once I get mad it's like an explosion went off, I guess my body doesn't hold back, leading me to have monstrous strength. I've learned to control it better now that I'm older, but the village still hasn't forgiven me for all the damage I did. Living here isn't what it used to be, I'm seen as a monster. People are either terrified of me or despise me and want to start a fight they won't win. Not to mention, there is this girl that follows me around, she's nice and all, but she's the jealous type, she can also get aggressive with others very quickly. I'm desperate to leave this place.

"Hey, Beauty," Tom, my senpai, pats my shoulder.

"Huh?" Tom laughed at my utter confusion.

"That's what everyone is calling you these days," He explained.

"Why?"

"Well, from what I hear, you have two sides to your coin. You're a handsome young man, but a beast at heart. " This is why I admire Tom-san, even with my strength, he isn't scared to tell me the truth, even at times when I don't want to hear it. "Look alive, Shizuo; here she comes," I tense up, seeing my devotee stroll up towards me. Her long blonde hair tied back into a neat braid, big violet eyes gleaming in the bright sunlight, all her attention focused on me. Vorona.

"Hi Shizuo," Her voice rung out; she was beautiful, perfect in every way. But I don't deserve her.

"Hey Vorona," I greeted, then stepped past her, It was best to keep my distance, I intend on leaving tonight.

"Don't mind him, he's usually dense in the mornings," Tom trying to comfort her. Vorona was usually hard to read, she came off as emotionless when we first met, but she ended up warming up to me. I'm thankful to have such good friends, but leaving will be the best for all of us.

"Want to hear about an urban legend I read about?" Tom-san working harder on getting Vorona to open up. " There once was a cruel prince who ruled over this land, his name long forgotten, but his evil ways have lived on, his pleasure was using people as playthings, putting them in dire situations to see their reaction. The people pleaded for freedom from the wretched hands of the prince, but their cries fell on deaf ears. Till one day, a Fae named Celty overheard the people's pleadings. Harkening to the peoples' pleas, she decided to pass judgment on the young prince. Disguising herself as on old women, she begged for food from the prince, the prince laughed, throwing the food to the floor, wanting to watch the beggar eat off the ground. Celty was furious at the prince's ill-manners. She showed him her true form, seeing if the prince would be bewitched and alter his actions.

But at last, the prince laughed harder, he doubled down. His deed caused the Fae to lose all hope for the prince, she resolved to cursing him. Having him and his family die an agonizing death, and upon hearing this, the prince panicked for his sisters, asking the Fae not to harm them. By this sudden show of affection, she altered the curse; he would have to live as a hideous beast, all his servants would transform into appliances, and his sisters plunged into a deep sleep until he became aware of his selfishness. She gave him a rosebud, once the bud blooms and withers away, the cure will become permanent." Tom-san finished his story, looking for Vorona's reaction.

"That couldn't possibly be true," She stated. Tom-san shrugged, not saying another word.

A full moon birthed a sky full of stars that blanketed over the village. My heart was racing, I was finally getting out of here. My bag was packed, strapped to my shoulders, my long journey had begun. I trudged out of the town. Looking back at the only home I knew, the two great friends I made, and the bakery that had the best damn bread. The forest wasn't far from home, once entering, I noticed the dark tree branches, stretching up to touch the sky, cracking the night open, letting the rain pour down covering me. The harsh wind bit at my skin, causing shivers to shake my being. My feet ached from treading on the rough terrain, my legs threatening to buckle. My body leaned up against a rusted gate. A melancholy castle towered over me, fissures lined the walls, vines encased every edge, the castle seemed to be eroding away. Thunder boomed, and lighting clashed, I had to escape the rain. I pried open the fence, heading inside the castle for shelter from the storm. The corridor remained concealed in obscurity, it was eerily silent.

As my eyes adjusted, the darkness began to melt away, drawing my eyes to a large staircase, encrypted with mutilations along the railings. At the head of the staircase was a dark silhouette shrouded in a corrupted atmosphere, holding a candelabra that illuminated the room in an ominous glow. My eyes darted around, now noticing the walls, with the plaster slashed off, barely hanging onto the ruined walls—shattered mirrors and portraits scattered through the corridor. Dust layered the flooring like carpet, the lack of footprints gave away the absence of human contact, but if that were the case, who was at the top of the stairs?

"You shouldn't be here" The voice showered down, drowning me in guilt for invading.

I wanted to mention the fact it was raining. Although my body grew rigid, I couldn't get a word out. "You're trespassing, leave at once," his voice roared.

"I-I'm sorry sir bu-" lighting clashed, illuminating the room in a flash of white. The first thing I noticed was the twisted points glistening atop his head, then those crimson orbs burning with resentment, molting feathers lining his neck and jawline. "Monster..." The word slipped out absentmindedly. Watching him descend the staircase, fear crept through me.

"A monster you say" His voice was low, a smirk masked his face. Before I knew it, he stood in front of me. Somber red eyes seared into me. In a swift movement, his hand was locked onto my throat, claws baring into my skin. "Say it again, I dare you."

This wasn’t my original idea, I was inspired by a post @shizaya-incorrectquotes reposted. I’m pretty sure the creator of this writing prompt was @whowhatmeow

#my art #my fic #my writing #writer #writeblr #writers on tumblr #writeaway #anime art #drrr fanart #fanart #fanfic #anime #durarara #durarara shizuo #durarara izaya #drrr shizuo #drrr izaya #shizaya #izaya x shizuo #shizuo x izaya #yaoifanfic

[pastel9girlbunny000die]

(Y/n) POV:

I never had a happy childhood as long as I can remember, not even a decent childhood memory, my mother never once care for me much less said a nice word...

my father his.. Let's just say... His never around, but when he is he used me as a personal punching bag or so.

I don't have any siblings and there's not much to say about my life.

Everyone i get closed to seems to distant themselves... when i turned out not being "worth it" ?

In the end I just got used to it.

Until...

One day the tables turned, I got into U.A the hero course.

It was pretty crazy first the USJ got attack by the Lov, then the festival after that out of the blue Katsuki demanded that I date him, then he got kidnapped by the Lov.

Thats just how crazy my life has gotten.

Present Day still (Y/n) POV:

I have been having a lot of doubt lately about katsuki, my boyfriend.

It wasn't to long ago he demanded me to date him, since than we haven't spend a lot of alone time or for that matter kissed.

"..." I sigh rolling my pen between my fingers staring blankly at my dorm room wall. "I guess it was all for show." I mumbled.

Suddenly knocking was heard on my door more like loud banging

"Oi! Extra, open up!" Katsuki's loud voice rang through my ears. I got up curiously opened the door letting the blond ash king explosion murder walk pass me.

He has an irritating look on his face?

"You know its late? I was about to sleep." I decided to go sit down next to him on the bed.

...

"So exstra, what do two people do when their in a relationship?" Katsuki question letting it sound more like a demand

My eyes widen at the little blush on his face.

A few seconds passed leaving an akwared silence.

"I don't know? I've never been in any kind of relationship at all."

"Right..." ... "What about we go get something to eat tomorrow?"

"Katsuki, why do you like me? I have nothing spacial nor do I have a amazing quirk. So why?"

"Your... Nothing tomorrow at 9 meet me at the dorm gate." Katsuki ordered walking out but stopped "and don't be late!" He growled slamming my door shut.

"What was he going to say?" I question brushing it off, laying down while falling at sleep in the process.

Who knows? I'll ask later.

Time Skip...

Its been quite some time since I started dating katsuki, its been a wild ride since that day in my room,

Its more like 5 months since he invited me out.

It all started with that one dinner and great memories, we got to know more about one and other what we like and dislike.

I learned how easy it was to handle the angry pomeranian, I also learned how good at cooking he can be and all his other talents and good morals.

But he can still be a little overprotective when it comes to me I don't really mind it as long as I can get a kiss or a hug out of it.

When the others found out I became Katsuki's girlfriend\boyfriend they where suportive but kaminari and mineta started whining about how katsuki got a lover before they did, I also had to avoid Izuku cause Katsuki literally tried to kill him the last time I talked to him.

Beside all that I really love being with katsuki he can be loving from time to time.

But its all seems too good to be true, a loving boyfriend and supportive friends. I doubt it from time to time?

Present time:

"Class dismissed." Mr.Aizawa said falling on the ground in his iconic yellow sleeping bag crawling out the door followed by some other students heading out.

"Finally, my butt feels numb." I yawned standing up from my desk

"Oi, babe wanna hang out in my room later?" Katsuki asked walking over to me with his bag hanging on his shoulder and a calm look on his face.

"Sure, katsu I'll just grab my stuff." I said in a smiling manner giving him a small pack on the cheek about to take my bag.

"Oh, hi (Y/n) Your still here, do you mind, like helping a girl out I got a few books I wanna return to the library, can you give me a hand?" Mina question holding a mountain of books.

"What the hack Mina." I fast walked over to her grabbing a few books before they where about to fall.

"Hey exstra do it yourself!" Katsuki barked at Mina who stayed unfuged by the angry yelling it's a daily thing so everyone is basically used to it by now.

"Chill down katsu, I'll be back in a minute." I winked at him walking down the hallway chatting a bit with the alien queen.

Little Time skip:

"That took longer than expected, I wonder if katsu is still there?" I mumbled to myself heading back too class.

I suddenly heard something getting knocked over, I rushed over the class room door.

The sight before me scared me shirtless.

Katski was on the floor with a girl I didn't know, maybe from another course but that wasn't the main issue they where kissing...

In the moment

I've become emotiontless because nothing can be worse than this feeling.

I feel the pain eating me up inside until I become this hollow soul of pain and nothing else, my heart broken into million pieces.

I wish I could turn back time, never agree to be this cheater girlfriend\boyfriend

I should have known, everyone the same

First mom than dad... Now katsuki their all the same, just a bunch of liars.

My tears built from deep inside and flowed down my cheeks, my tears spilled down my face like a waterfall running down from high cliff. My body started trembling compared to how messed up my mind was.

I couldn't stay here any longer, I turned running out the school while my tears spilled out my eyes.

I no longer feel like living. I can't. Its all over.

Nobody's POV:

The ash blond growled shoving the girl off him wiping his mouth off, an angry look spread on his face meaning his not very please at the moment

"You, fucken extra, touch me again and I'll kill." Katsuki barked with little explosion blasting from his palms.

"I-i Sorry!" The girl stuttered running away for her life.

"Damn, where's (Y/n)?" Katsuki mumbled taking his and his lover's bag walking out the class.

Meanwhile (Y/n) was in his\her room baling her\his eyes out wrapped up in tons of blankets.

"Hey, (Y/n) you in there?" Katsuki voice called out from the closed doors, but (Y/n) ignored him trying to block out the blonde pomeranian loud banging on the door.

Katsuki had enough he was worring and angry at his lover for making him concern that he decided to blast down the door, stepping over the broken wood he head over to (Y/n) bed.

Katsuki kneeled down in front of her\his bed thier all crawled up into a ball and pillow stuffed over thier head.

"... whats wrong?" Katsuki sighed questioning his lover who remained silent.

"I won't be able to help if you don't tell me." Katsuki said yanking the pillow off.

"You jerk, give me back my pillow!" (Y/n) said in anger trying to grab it but katsuki just throws it behind him.

"So you can talk." Katsuki smirked grabbing (Y/n) hand pulling her\him off the bed letting her\him fall onto katsuki.

"Ouch." (Y/n) mumbled realizing she\he was on katsuki (Y/n) wanted to get off immediately, but katsuki trapped her\him locking her\his waiste between his legs and holding a iron grip on (Y/n) arm and a hand holding pressing her\him against his chest.

"Now you can't get away from me, and i have your full attention. Whats wrong?" Katsuki smirked at (Y/n) but sounded worried.

"Y-you cheater!" (Y/n) yelled her\his tears dripping down her\his cheeks, the teary eyed vision of katsuki lover made him angry, no one hurts his only love and gets away alive, but it confused him more that he was called a cheater knowing fully well that he is forever committed to only (Y/n) alone.

"(Y/n) what do you mean? Cheater?"

"Don't l-lie to me I-i saw you, k-kissing that girl." (Y/n) voice cracked making it bearly hearable. Except katsuki heard every word that came out off (Y/n) mouth.

... Silence filled the room with little hiccups coming from (Y/n) where she's\he's pressing thier face into his chest trying to save little bit of the last warmth she\he might ever get from katski.

It was nice while it lasted. The words ranged over and over in (Y/n) mind, katsuki will leave her\him after he/she found out that katsuki knows that (Y/n) knows he's been cheating, than he'll go to be with his real love.

"You-" Katsuki paused with a deadly gaze in his eyes it scared the hack out of (Y\n) when she\he looked up into katsuki's eyes.

"You honestly think i'd leave you. Or fucken cheat on you?! Your my one and only bitch! Your the one and only exceptional exstra in my life, the love of my life. (Y/n) I fucken love you." The words katsuki angrly barked out touched (Y/n) deeply, who knew katsuki could actually feel, Much less love, and here (Y/n) was ready to give up on ever loving again as if katsuki would leave her\him for another.

His not like (Y/n) mother or father, katsuki cares and loves deeper than any average person.

"Bu-but you where ki-" katsuki stopped (Y/n) from finishing her\his sentance by forcing his lips onto (Y/n) lips, a innocent kiss quickly turned into a heated make out session. Katsuki and (Y/n) partened catching thier breaths, (Y/n) shyly gazed into katsuki's crisom eyes.

"I dare you to finished that sentance or ill take you right here and now."

"What happened?" (Y/n) asked wanting to know how katsuki ended up on the floor with the girl kissing him.

"That stupid exstra doesn't know how to tie her shoes, the low life tripped knocking me over landing on me and we accidentally touched." Katsuki said looking irritated.

(Y/n) didn't know how to feel, should she\he be mad or happy on one had a girl kissed her\his boyfriend and on the other hand katsuki wasn't cheating.

"Katsu, I'm sorry. I misunderstood. I-" katsuki placed his finger onto (Y/n) lips shushing her\him.

"I love you.. (Y/n) ❤" katsuki says giving (Y/n) a soft passionate loving kiss.

"I wuv you too, katsu~" (Y/n) mouned in the kiss wrapping her\his arms aroud the blonde neck letting katsuki hug her\him tighter.

In the end it was all a misunderstanding.

The end.. Haha xox

P.S sorry i couldn't stay on the only girl version & i had to rewrite the end cause it was supposed to end with (Y/n) running away never being seen by anyone again, but it was too sad, I'm a sucker for a happy ending.

#katsuki bakugo x reader #katsuki bakugo fic #bnha fanfiction #mha bakugou #mha fanfiction #anime

[yourdeepestfathoms]

The Crucible (part ten; finale)

[UK Tour; Carrie AU]

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9

Word count: 8463

TW: Blood and gore, mentions of rape

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

-Don’t Waste The Moon-

  “When did you first realize something was wrong?”

  “When I heard the sirens.”

Katherine remembered all her fears coming true when dozens of police sirens, fire truck sirens, ambulance sirens began to blare so loudly in unison that she could hear them from her neighborhood. She had ripped open her front door, Isabel hovering right behind her, and stared in horror at the golden-orange light illuminating the night sky from miles away.

  “And then the fire.”

  “And when was the last time you saw Joan Seymour alive?” Mulaney asked.

Katherine looked at him skeptically. “At school on Friday. Before the prom.”

  “You told Sheriff Doyle you saw her after the prom. Right before the Shell blew up.”

Katherine bit her tongue, remembering that interaction. She had just sped down in her car to get to the mayhem, but stopped at a gas station that was swarmed with police cars. When she launched herself out of the driver’s seat, she heard one of the officers saying into his radio how a fuel tank had just “went up” and the “gymnasium was gone.” She asked him what happened at the gym, and he told her to go home, that there was nothing she could do. But she didn’t listen, instead swerving around the gas pumps to get a better look at the school, which was completely engulfed in flames on one side.

That was when she heard the explosions. And saw the bursting pillars of fire in the distance. And noticed that the telephone poles lining the road were starting to rattle and rock. 

And Joan Seymour emerged from the smoke and fog rolling down the street.

  “It was dark,” Katherine said. “I saw a girl in a dress.”

  “You said you saw Joan Seymour.”

  “I was wrong.”

But she wasn’t. She knew it was Joan.

Joan, covered in a slick of blood.

Katherine had tried to call out to her, but Joan didn’t answer or even look in her direction. She just kept walking, arms flat at her side, fingers splayed open, eyes wide and shiny and blank.

The Shell gas station blew shortly after. Something had wormed into the gasoline deposit and ignited the entire thing, sending the pumps into a blaze. Katherine’s ears didn’t stop ringing for a few hours.

  “What’s it matter, anyway?” Katherine said. “Joan is dead.”

I would know...

------

The sound of frantic knocking on Anne’s front door and the sound of her cousin shouting interrupted the heated makeout session between Anne and Cathy. She had been trying to ease her girlfriend up, who has looked sick ever since the blood dump, and it was just starting to work when the panicked banging and yelling started. Rolling her eyes and groaning in annoyance, Anne peeled herself from the couch (nobody was home, so they had the house to themselves, making this interruption even more irritating) and walked to the front door.

  “What?” She growled at Thomas. “What’s your problem?”

  “Oxford.” Thomas gasped out, clearly out of breath. His eyes were round holes of horror, like he had witnessed something awful. “It’s burning up, Anne.”

On the couch, Cathy shot up from her reclined position instantly and began to put her shirt back on, much to Anne’s dismay. 

  “Whole damn city,” Thomas went on, breathless. “The school’s gutted.”

  “What?” Cathy stood up and hurried over beside Anne. Regret, guilt, and terror was twisted all over her face.

  “They said people at the prom were trapped.” Thomas continued. He wore the same expression as Cathy, realizing that this alleged destruction was partially because of him. “Only, like, eleven of them got out. The rest were cooked.”

Anne and Cathy exchange looks. Cathy looked ill all over again. She began to pace back and forth with her hands to her head, fingers knotted in her hair.

  “Anne,” Thomas whispered, shuddering. “The ones that got out told the police something about a prank.”

Anne pressed her tongue against the inside of her lip, feeling embers of anger flicker through her. She shook them off for now and stepped closer to Thomas, noting the way he flinched away from her slightly. She placed her hands on his shoulders.

  “Go home.” She said. “Don’t talk to anybody.”

Thomas took a deep, shaky breath and nodded. He hurried down the driveway and back to his car. Anne closed the front door after he drove off into the night.

  “And what are we going to do?” Cathy asked. She sounded like she was close to tears.

Anne turned to her with a thin smile.

  “We’re going to go into town and watch the fires.”

------

The street is thick with mangled cars and billowing smoke. All around, the cries of the dying form brief, unsettling harmonies with the cracks and booms of exploding pavement.

A red double-decker bus tilted over at an alarming angle, tires punctured, emergency exit door hanging open. Its driver laid slumped across the steering wheel, sightless eyes staring ahead to a junction he would never reach. The limbs of luckless late night passengers trail from broken windows.

A water main has ruptured. Its flow was tainted with blood; dark swirls in a new river that headed for the oblivion of black drains. Soon those drains will fill beyond capacity and the street will begin to flood with the remnants of the dead and broken.

It’s the most magical place on earth, and everyone seemed to have it all there—the drugs, the drama, the unabashed violence, and the harm it’s done to Joan and everyone she’s ever loved.

This old, mysterious city lured her in a long time ago and numbed her with a fix for her every desire. Against this landscape, she’s carved out a prosperous career as the resident freak. Through the sheer force of her will, the city had molded and bent before her very eyes, covering everyone’s every potential insecurity with false confidence and gaudy excess.

In return, the city has jaded her, stripped her of her humanity, and warped her into an unrecognizable shell of noir-esque dysphoria, washed up on the filthy banks of the city’s canals. It has brought her to this very moment, shambling down one of the streets like a zombie, coated in coagulate blood and guts, leading a path of utter destruction in her wake.

The air around her was crackling. Every step she took broke the asphalt beneath her feet. Pillars of fire roared out of the ground behind her, spewing chunks of fiery rocks into the sky, which then landed with tremendous explosive force.

She was wrecking this city the way it wrecked her.

And every sinner who ever hurt her or wronged her was going to perish in her act of purification.

Rapture was nigh, and Judgement was upon them all.

Joan slowly continued down the road. The earth began to shake without stopping, a continuous tremor that jarred her teeth in her head and made her feel as though the ground was about to drop out beneath her. Another fountain of fire shot out into open air and the asphalt melted into magma, slithering slowly down the pavement alongside Joan like a benevolent bituminous companion.

A big black truck rattle up a side street, swaying into the other lane and jerking back over and over again. Music was blasting from the open windows and the stench of alcohol and weed could be smelled even from where Joan stopped. She watched the truck screech to a halt and the passengers peer over at her curiously, slurring among themselves. Then, they’re getting out and walking over.

  “Damn girl,” One said, noticing the blood all over her. He stumbled when he walked and kept mixing his words together. A brown bottle was clutched tightly in his right hand. “You look FUCKED!”

His three friends, all red-faced and either drunk or high out of their minds like he was, roar into loud peals of laughter. Joan stared at them blankly.

  “What’s with all the pyrotechnics?” Another asked. “You a performer?”

  “Yeah, yeah,” A third nodded. “What kind of show is this? ‘S not even close to Halloween!”

  “I’d still go down on ‘er, though,” Piped up the fourth with a lusty smile.

(dogs)

Joan continued to stare at them absently as comments about the blood all over her and the fire burning around them were bounced off each of the men. What they don’t realize is that she’s sending her powers through the ground and into their bodies, and by the time they do realize, it’s too late.

A shrieking fit of screaming broke out when the fourth man’s head suddenly popped like a balloon, spewing shards of blood and bone and brains all over the place. One of them got a chunk of stringy tissue caught in their mouth and he immediately doubled over, gagging and vomiting. The other two continued to howl like babies.

  “WHAT THE FUCK?!” The first yelped. 

  “WH-WHAT HAPPENED TO HIM?!” The second added.

  “HE’S FUCKING DEAD, MAN!!” The first cried.

The second whirled around to Joan, pointing and blubbering.

  “You-you fucking did this, didn’t you?” He stammered.

  “How?!” The first said.

  “I-I don’t know! But she killed Danny!”

The second man bent down and grabbed a long, thin shard of glass that had been broken when all the bottles of alcohol had been dropped. He swung it at Joan, and she was much too dazed to properly react.

  “What...what the fuck…” He backed away from Joan, who had the shard now pierced through her cheeks. It entered through the right and came out from the left, wedged in place by her flesh. When she opened her mouth, the brown glass could be seen glistening in the firelight. Blood dripped over her bottom lip.

  “What...what are you…?” The first whispered.

Joan flicked her tongue and felt the piece of glass in her mouth. It was cold and slick, but the blood it drew was hot and sticky. She didn’t like the taste.

She jerked her head and the man who had stabbed her went flying. His spine snapped loudly against a telephone pole, his body folding like a bent card upon impact. He slumped to the ground, lifeless.

  “Oh fuck! Oh god!” The first man panicked. He grabbed his other friend’s arms, who had gone into shock. “Fuck! Jack, let's go!! We need to go!”

They didn’t get very far.

The ground below the men exploded into towering flames, incinerating them. The smell of burned flesh filled the air. Charred body fell to the asphalt, blackened and indescribable.

Joan moved on in silence.

She passed the plaza where she had been harassed by those college kids just a few days ago. She remembered the way nobody had done anything to help her and ignited the pavilion into a golden-orange blaze.

The fish and chips shop went next. She stomped her foot and a crack shot across the earth. A giant chunk of rock ripped through the building, turning it to rubble. She turned to the hair salon next.

No matter what time of day she went there, "Cut and Colour" was full of women who talked too loudly. The exact composition of the group changes from hour to hour but there were always familiar faces, and their tone is consistent: they know better.

At first, by day, she thought the locals were waiting for a haircut. Then, she noticed that it never seemed to be their turn. Finally, she realized that what they liked was a warm room to hang out in, with free magazines and a captive audience. It was a sort of day care center for bigots which also offered haircuts.

Vidal Sassoon supposedly said that with a small pair of scissors, he could make a woman cry for a week. Imagine what Joan could do with telekinetic powers.

She decided to blow the salon right out of the ground. It went flying through the air like a burning asteroid and burst apart when it hit the ground. When it was just mere pieces across the fiery pavilion, Joan was left a lot less satisfied than she thought she would be. She moved on slowly.

As she walked, she began to think. So many years wasted to torment. So many years she could have exacted her revenge and been treated like a normal person. So many years thinking she was just a useless, scarred waste of skin, as her peers in school had spent six years of her life reminding her.

She still heard them all the time, their voices in her head telling her how wretched, hideous, and scary she was. She tried to drown them out by concentrating on school work and prayers, but the smallest thing could bring them crashing back in. Just the thought of the shower incident—how familiar it all felt—brought on a fresh wave of memories of poisoned words and scornful laughter.

It all started when she was ten. Year 6. She had brought a Bible to school and prayed with it in the cafeteria during lunch. Everyone thought it was hilarious and she couldn’t live it down for the rest of Primary School.

And then she was eleven and in Year 7. Secondary School. And up until that school year, she was mainly ignored by her peers or picked on simply because of the whole Bible incident. But then gym class and changing in front of other girls became a thing, and they all saw the way her ribs would weirdly press out against her skin and how her stomach was sunken too far in for her skinny hips. That was the day she learned what the word “emaciated” meant. It also kickstarted hell on earth for the next five years of her life.

The rest of Year 7 was spent with her being bombarded by food and the constant question of if she was hungry. She even started being called anorexic when a few of the kids figured out what that meant and would be asked if she needed someone to jam their fingers down their throat whenever she would go to the bathroom. She also distinctly remembered a boy giving her a tub of rotten meat with maggots in it one day.

Year 8 rolled around. Mama said that the bullying would go away after the break, but when Joan turned up to the school when she was twelve, she was only met with familiar evil faces and fresh bouts of teasing. The anorexic jokes became more extreme, but those were probably the least awful things she was met with because her peers grew enough balls over the break to start getting physical with her. That school year quickly became the year of being tripped, shoved, and slammed against walls. She had even been pushed down one of the staircases when she was going to get a drink of water and broke her arm. She still remembered how horrified and sick the culprits had looked when they heard the awful crunching and cracking sounds of her bones breaking, like they hadn't meant to do that much damage. Instead of helping her, they left her in the stairwell, where she cried on the floor for an hour, immobilized by pain, until class ended and she was found by dozens of students. She finished that year with a cast that got slurs written on it when bullies would pin her down and forcefully write whatever they wanted.

When she turned thirteen, she begged her mother to take her out of school before Year 9 started, but Mama refused and Joan had to live through another year of ridicule and harassment. That was the first time she got her head dunked in a toilet and fingers smashed in a door.

Year 10 was the worst, in her opinion. High school. On the second day, her so-called friends abandoned her and scribbled on her homeroom desk statements such as “Go home”, “Drop dead”, and “Freak”. All her peers seemed to spread the news of her weirdness like wildfire to the higher grades, turning people she didn’t even know against her. Older kids and kids her age alike would beat her and threaten her with knives they would sneak to school just so they could snatch whatever snack she bought from the cafeteria and turn anyone she may have befriended against her. Students in her class would beg the teacher to let them be with someone else if they were partnered with her, always making sure to do so in earshot of her. They would laugh at her during presentations and throw things at her and make fun of her when she messed up. They mimicked her stutter and nervous ticks, held her down and dripped hot glue on her skin, put staples in her ears and fingernails, and poised sharp objects too close to her eyeballs just to hear how loud she would squeal. And the entire time, no adults did anything. They all turned a blind eye to her treatment, even when she had the burns and scars and bruises to prove what had been happening to her.

She soon realized that it wasn’t that they didn’t see what was going on.

They just didn’t care.

Nobody ever cared.

She turned fifteen at a summer camp she hadn’t been allowed to go to, but sneaked off to, anyway. The break had been lonely and dreary- Joan wanted friends so badly that she dared to go against her mother’s wishes and ran off to the camp to try and be with kids that would mock her.

But, like everyone else in her life, they did.

When she cheerily told them that it was her birthday, they called her a witch instead of singing to her. A large group of the cruelest campers, some being seventeen, some being only nine, dragged her out to the nearby river and repeatedly dunked her in the water until she began to drown, all while they chanted “Drown the witch! Drown the witch! Drown the witch!” over and over and over again. It still echoed in her ears to this day.

Her mother punished her severely when she got home and didn’t even care when Joan cried to her about what the kids did to her, saying that she deserved it.

Joan became deathly afraid of water after that.

And then, there was Year 11. The cycle of abuse and torture and torment continued. The shower incident happened. Seemingly all was lost.

But not anymore.

Never again will she cower beneath them. Any of them.

She was an angel of wrath, and she would spread her fury unto them all.

A black G-Wagen stopped at a red light up ahead. Even from the distance between the two, Joan could tell who the driver was.

The car roared forward, not waiting for the overhead light to turn green. Joan lumbered slowly, while the car sped at her full speed. She could see Anne Boleyn, now, her face twisted with rage. Next to her, a dark skinned woman Joan didn’t know was yelling something in a panic. Joan twitched her head to the side and the dark skinned woman’s neck snapped to the side. Anne screamed and lost control of the car in shock. Joan gave it a gentle nudge and sent it tumbling across the street in a cacophony of cracks and crashes and shatters. 

Joan stopped and watched the car roll wildly before finally coming to a halt in front of her. Every side of the vehicle was crumpled and crushed, metal scraped and folded, black paint streaked with silver slashes. One of the doors was dangling open and barely hanging onto its hinges. Anne was sprawled out beside it after she had been thrown from the open door in the crash. She jarred awake from a momentary dip of unconsciousness and gasped sharply, looking around wildly. 

  “Cathy?” She croaked. She looked up and saw the dark-skinned woman slumped in the passenger’s seat. She was very, very dead, if not by her neck wrung backwards, then by the gaping red horror opened up in her chest cavity. “CATHY!!”

Anne tried to get up and run to the woman, Cathy, to try and rouse her despite her injuries, to beg her to wake up, but couldn’t.

Because she was missing the entire lower half of her body.

Anne choked on a scream when she looked back and realized her legs were no longer attached to the rest of her. She may have vomited if her stomach hadn’t been ruptured; Joan could see the contents, mainly alcohol-mixed bile and chunks of a hamburger she had for lunch earlier that day, drooling out from a slice in the lining that was opened up like a ziplock bag.

During the crash, when Anne had been thrown out of the car, the open door rolled over her midsection, cleanly cutting her in half. Dark red intestines are stretched across the pavement like dying snakes. Stringy tendons dangled from the curve of her back, frayed and numb, no longer connected to any bone. Her spine was sticking out into the open air, bright white against all the blood. Organs poured out of the maw of the wound, shimmering in sheens of pink and scarlet. The shirt she’s wearing may have originally been dark green, but it was currently swamped by a flood of glistening gore. Her legs were a few feet away, bleeding heavily.

Joan sidled around the girl slowly and stepped into her field of vision. Anne looked up at her, gasping and spitting up blood. Tears were streaming from her eyes.

  “Y-you--” She choked on her words.

Joan tilted her head like a confused puppy. Anne continued to sputter and wheeze below her.

  “J-Joan--”

Anne barely managed to move her arms and grappled onto Joan’s right ankle. With whatever strength and feeling she had left in her body, she pulled herself forward to Joan. Her intestines slither and slide across the ground, leaving streaks of blood. She coughed up another bout of red.

  “Joan--”

What did she want? Mercy?

Joan reached up and slowly pulled out the glass that was still stuck in her cheeks, then stuck it underneath Anne’s jaw. Anne gasped and spewed blood all over her legs.

  “Y-you bi--” The glass pierced her tongue. She wasn’t going to be able to talk very well. Or do anything anymore, really. “Y-you--f-fucking--mon--monst--er.”

Joan stood up straight, turned around, and continued her walk down the street. Anne tried to follow her, crawl after her, but her head fell heavily and the shard of glass was jammed up further into her head when her chin connected with the ground. She frothed and foamed at the mouth helplessly, struggling to stay conscious.

Joan wondered how long she lived. She wondered if it was quick or if she suffered. 

She hoped she did.

Joan’s jaw began to ache. She could now feel the thin cuts in her cheek and felt like she was gulping down tiny pieces of glass whenever she swallowed. Awareness was slowly returning to her the closer and closer she got to her house.

She wanted her Mama.

Withered brown leaves rustled in the ghostly wind. The night was almost silent, if not for the wailing gust, the crackle of fronds, and the wailing of sirens in the distance. Bloodied shoes trampled over the dead blades of branches, the crunching of their filaments accompanying Joan’s every step. A frigid breeze cut across her face like a frozen knife, drawing red to her sallow cheeks. She shivered. The blood coating her body had gone cold.

She really, really needed her Mama right now.

Joan hobbled into her neighborhood, passing house after house, so much nicer than her own, until she finally came to the Seymour bungalow. Something inside of her fluttered and she staggered towards it as fast as her weak legs could take her, hands doing desperate grabby hands.

  “Mommy, mommy, mommy, mommy--” She sobbed over and over again.

She stumbled through the front door, nearly tripping on the rug, and careened into the den. Everything was as she left it- completely trashed. Crosses were hanging at angles, the couch was tipped over, chairs and tables and lamps were strewn all across the floor. The only thing that was still in its original place was Mama’s velvet throne chair in the living room.

But where was Mama?

  “Mama?” Joan called out. “M-Mama?”

No answer.

Joan stepped forward, and all the furniture and items on the floor pulled away from her, as if they were offended by her dirty presence.

  “Mama? Mommy?”

Nothing.

Where was her Mama?

She remembered that Mama had left the house earlier that evening. What if she never came back?

Tears filled Joan’s eyes. She couldn’t be alone. Not after what happened tonight. She desperately needed her Mama.

She walked up the stairs, falling to her hands and knees halfway up and continuing the climb like a blood soaked animal that barely managed to get away from a hunter. She looked around the upstairs part of the house, crawling to Mama’s bedroom and peeking inside, leaving streaks of red across the hardwood floor. Mama’s bed was made, but she thought the blankets looked a little wrinkled on one side.

  “Mama?” She called out again, a brief expression of hope flitting across her face.

No reply.

Joan’s bottom lip began to quiver. The movement hurt her cheeks even more and she whimpered sharply. The smell of rancid blood wafting around her was starting to make her stomach churn.

  “Mommy?” She tried one more time, and when she got no answer, she retrieved fresh clothes from her bedroom and then locked herself in the bathroom.

An unseen force cranked the hot water nozzle on the faucet, filling the tub up with steaming water. Joan could barely lift her own arms, so she used her telekinesis to worm the dress off of her for her. It was a clumsy process, but she eventually was free from the bloody fabric. When she looked down, she saw that the blood had soaked all the way into her bra and underwear and even her pale skin, streaking down her chest and belly and arms and legs in dark red stripes. She quickly got into the bathtub.

The water was way too hot, but she didn’t bother turning the cold nozzle, even though she easily could with just a simple flex of her mind. She melted into the heat, sucking in a sharp breath and easing her lungs. When she slowly pushed herself up into a sitting position, she saw that the water around her was tainted a light red color. She splashed her face, thinking maybe she was just seeing things, but then she looked down at her hands and saw how stained they were.

She had been hoping it wasn’t real, that it was just all in her imagination, but something about seeing the blood now wet on her hands cemented it all as true.

It was true.

It all really happened.

Joan’s breathing began to pick up to the point where her lungs begged for air. She turned her hands over, staring at the palms and then the backs. Blood trailed lazily over the scars.

  “No--” She gasped. She splashed her face again, wetting the blood and making it run down into her eyes and over her cheeks. “No, no, no--”

She splashed and splashed and splashed, then began to scrub and scrub and scrub when she realized just how stained her shoulders and chest were. Her hands smeared the blood into awful shapes, so she hooked her nails into claws and began scratching viciously until even more blood was drawn out. The entire process was messy and clumsy and had her weeping out loud like a lamb that had lost its mother. 

Where was her mother?

Joan dunked her head under the water and held it there, clawing her nails through her hair. The locks were stiff and dried with blood and released clouds of red through the bathtub when scoured so roughly. The natural platinum blonde color doesn’t come back easily and she nearly drowned herself trying to get all the blood out.

(o Mama Mama where are you i need you o Mama please come back)

Joan hugged her knees and rocked back and forth, sloshing the red water around her. Her skin stung from the heat, but she didn’t care. She found that she wasn’t caring about a lot of things at that moment.

The room was dark, blue shadows leaked out of the cracks between the tiles. Maybe it’s mold, maybe it’s just a fancy design; they’ve been there for as long as Joan can remember. Ghostly whispers flooded her ears. She slid down the smooth, spattered ceramic and held her breath until her eardrums were about to burst; this is a coping mechanism of sorts, she thinks. She might fall asleep underwater one day, peaceful and careless.

(Mama)

A thick, soapy wave splashes out of the tub as Joan sat up, gasping and hyperventilating, slapping her palms against the surface. She’s angry all of a sudden, she barely suppressed her scream as the shelf with all the shampoos and shower gels comes crashing down, bottles scatter across the floor.

At first, Joan thought that the devil was finally coming for her soul. Then, she thinks that it was an earthquake; the water was sloshing around the bathtub like a reddened poison. But, when Joan wiped the foam off her face, she realized that she’s the only one that’s quivering.

There’s a vibration racking through her body, muscles tensed, and wet hair full of electricity as if she’s about to cause a short circuit.

The shelf is lying on the tiles now, broken in two.

Joan whimpered. She leaned her temple against the edge of the bathtub and wept. Glittering silver tears dripped silently into bloody water. The smell of blood began to permeate through the air again. Joan dragged her body out of the water eventually, shivering and sniffling.

The house was eerily silent when Joan hobbled out of the bathroom. She’s dressed in a plain white nightgown and her hair is dripping freely all over her back and chest. It’s still slightly tinted red.

  “Mama?” She whispered.

Like all the other times, there was no reply.

(please please please)

  “Mama?” Louder this time.

(please please please please)

A creak in the floorboards.

Joan whirled around.

And there was her Mama, like an angel in the hallway, illuminated by a flickering red candle. Her hair was neatly combed and she was dressed in a dark blue dress she had sewn herself. Her golden brown eyes were warm and tender, sucking Joan in with their soft gaze, and Joan couldn’t help but burst into a fresh set of tears.

  “Mama?” Joan squeaked weakly.

  “Oh, my girl,” Mama murmured. “My sweet, sweet girl…”

  “Mama, you were right!” Joan sobbed. “They all laughed at me!” The tears were falling faster, now. She could hear the laughter echoing loudly in her ears.

  “Oh my poor angel…”

Joan nearly choked on a sob, feeling her throat constrict. She raised her arms, doing desperate grabby hands at her mother.

  “Mama, please hold me,” She begged.

Mama obliged, sweeping her up into her warm, strong arms that made Joan melt upon contact. Her weak little body crumpled, knees buckling together, and Mama carefully lowered her to the ground, not letting go for even a second.

  “Shh, shh,” Mama murmured, stroking her wet hair. “It’s okay… I’m here. I’m here now, your Mama’s here.”

  “They all laughed at me,” Joan wept. She smothered her face in her mother’s chest, clinging like a drowning woman to the back of her dress. She couldn’t handle being let go right now. She just wanted to curl up in Mama’s arms and stay there forever.

  “I knew they’d hurt my little girl.” Mama growled lowly.

Joan replied with a whimpering sob. She didn’t have enough air to properly answer, so she just continued to cry and cry, shaking like a newborn baby goat in her Mama’s embrace. 

Several minutes of silence, aside from Joan’s crying, passed. Joan realized that she couldn’t hear any sirens anymore. Maybe things had finally calmed down and would be okay again, like they were before the blood.

  “I should have killed myself when he put it in me.”

Joan tensed up like she had just been struck by lightning.

  “We slept in the same bed,” Mama went on, “Lived together sinlessly.” Her strong hand was rubbing firmly against Joan’s upper back, near the nape of her neck. “And then, one night, I saw him look at me in that way and we got down on our knees and prayed for strength. And that’s when he took me.”

  “No, Mama--” Joan whimpered. She didn’t want to hear this. Not right now. Not after everything that has happened. “No, Mama, I don’t want to hear it--”

Mama leaned Joan back and stroked her tear stained face. “And I liked it.”

  “No, Mama, no--” Joan shook her head, fresh tears pouring out of her eyes.

  “I should have given you to God when you were born.” Mama said. “But I was weak. And I loved you so much.”

A smile twitched on Joan’s lip, weak and thin and shaky, but real. Those words sent butterflies fluttering through her stomach.

  “And I said, ‘God, let me keep my little girl. Let me keep her.’” Mama said, and Joan’s smile became a little bit bigger. Maybe things would be okay after all. “Let us pray.”

Joan nodded, almost eagerly. “Yes, Mama,” She said, craving Mama’s soothing touch and silky words. “Yes, we’ll pray.” She nuzzled in closer to Mama’s warmth, breathing out a soft sigh of relief.

  “I’ll be the preacher,” Mama said, “you be my congregation.”

Joan nodded again, smiling giddily. She closed her eyes and murmured along with Mama when she began to recite the prayer.

  “Our Father, who art in heaven,

hallowed be thy Name, 

thy kingdom come, 

thy will be done, 

on earth as it is in heaven.”

Mama’s voice was like honey, slithering warmly from her lips. Joan was drawn to it no matter what happened, no matter what Mama did. Because Mama, despite her actions and flaws, loved her.

  “Give us this day our daily bread. 

And forgive us our trespasses, 

as we forgive those

who trespass against us.”

And wanted her.

  “And lead us not into temptation, 

but deliver us from evil.”

And needed her.

  “For thine is the kingdom, 

and the power, and the glory, 

for ever and ever. Amen.”

And--

And there was a sharp pain.

Joan’s eyes popped open wide and she gasped as all the air rushed out from her lungs. There was a sharp pain in her back, below her left shoulder, and then a rush of warmth across her nightgown. She looked up with a whimper and saw that Mama’s eyes were solemnly cold and crackling, like embers flickering in a winter wind. Her arm was reached around Joan, holding something in place, and Joan realized she had a knife in her back.

  “Mama--” She croaked, blood dripping from her lips.

Something around the two of them crackled, like the air was charged with electricity, and they burst apart from each other like the similar charges of a magnet. Mama went flying down into the hallway, while Joan ricocheted off the staircase railing and then tumbled down the stairs, hitting the back wall with a magnificent splattering of blood before teetering over the remaining few steps. There on the ground, gasping for breath, she lay sprawled like a broken doll. Her jaw ached fiercely with every sharp intake of oxygen she took, while her back felt as though a bruise had just been slashed open and now all her tendons were being pulled out one by one. She whimpered at the pain, barely able to move her arm without it feeling like it was being torn off.

The staircase creaked; Mama was there, holding the stained butcher knife and primed for blood.

Joan scrambled backwards. Her body crumpled almost instantly, crushed by the weight of her wound, so she had to drag herself with one arm across the floor. Mama advanced on her slowly, menacingly, like a lioness stalking its injured prey.

  “N-no, Mama--” Joan begged. “Mama, no, please-- Please no--”

  “This isn’t your fault, Joan,” Mama said. “It’s mine.”  

  “Mommy, this isn’t right--”

  “Don’t you know that the Devil never dies?” Mama went on. Her eyes were shining and she was drooling slightly, lost in her daze. “So you have to keep killing them. Over--”

  “No, no--”

  “--and over again.”

Mama stabbed the knife down.

Joan rolled away just in time. A lock of hair got caught under the blade and tore free with a burning sensation across her scalp, but she could hardly care. She rolled over onto her stomach and tried to get up, and then crawl away when she wasn’t able to stand. Mama pursued her, grabbing her by the leg and slashing the back of her ankle. Joan screamed in pain and jerked onto her back. The stab wound throbbed, but she barely felt it through the rush of adrenaline spurting through her. She barely jerked her head in time before she was stabbed.

Her fingers, so spindly and bony, wrapped around Mama’s on the hilt of the knife and she wrestled with her over the weapon. Mama was bigger and much stronger, easily ripping her hands free from her grasp. She cut Joan across the arm when she shielded her face from another blow.

  “Stop it, Mama!” Joan cried. She wiggled beneath her mother and managed to get one leg free. She kicked Mama in the stomach and took the chance to scamper away when Mama recoiled backwards in pain.

  “YOU DEVIL!!” Mama roared.

Joan heard the uneven shuffling of footsteps behind her, then felt the sharp pain of the tip of the knife pricking her in the leg. She kicked again, only to have the blade streak across her exposed belly and make her howl in agony.

  “No, Mama!” Joan shrieked. Her head was starting to become fuzzy. She felt so tired all of a sudden. “No, no!!”

Mama practically pounced on her, looking hungry. Joan struggled wildly beneath her like a captured animal. Her little body was slippery with blood and Mama had a hard time getting a good grip, so she gave up after a moment and cleaved the knife down on Joan’s head with a bellowing battlecry.

But that was the one blow Joan didn’t feel.

Joan looked up, gasping for air, and saw that the knife was hovering mere inches away from her face. Mama’s hand was frozen, ensnared by a telekinetic force much stronger than she was. Joan flexed her mind and suspended Mama in the air, then called upon every possible sharp object in the house- knives and needles, shattered glass and broken chair legs, box cutters and scissors. They all hovered around Mama, poised and waiting.

  “Joan…” Mama whispered in horror, tears trickling down her cheeks.

  “I’m sorry,” Joan whimpered.

  “JOAN!!!”

Joan wailed and sent the object upon her mother.

The butcher’s knife pierced Mama’s heart and sent her flying backwards against the wall. A pair of wickedly sharp meat shears pinned one hand against the plaster, while a seam ripper wedged itself in the flesh of the other. Dozens of knives stabbed themselves into her stomach. A boxcutter smashed into her shoulder and a screwdriver embedded itself deep into her waist. She took a shard of glass to the thigh and a ruler to the torso and a ice pick to the collarbone, and Joan commanded them all to do so, watching with tears streaming down her cheeks.

Mama, stretched out like Jesus on the wall, stopped moaning and groaning after a moment and her head slumped forward. Joan blinked her glassy eyes and tilted her head like a confused puppy.

  “M-Mama?” She squeaked.

Like when she first got into the house that night, there was no answer.

Joan weakly crawled across the blood-spattered floor and shook one of Mama’s legs.

  “Mommy?”

No answer.

Joan’s bottom lip began to quiver. She shook Mama’s leg harder, then wrapped her arms around it, looking up at Mama with big, shining eyes.

  “Mommy, please answer me,” She begged.

Her Mommy did not.

Joan stood up and nearly blacked out from blood loss. Her head spun and she tottered on her feet, feeling sharp starbursts of pain exploding from the slash on her ankle, then steadied herself. She grasped onto Mama’s body and began to pull out all the sharp objects, whimpering out apologies as she did so.

First the ruler in her torso, then the meat shears, then the seap ripper. Mama’s body, no longer held up by anything, came crashing down and nearly crushed Joan. She clumsily fell to the ground, stumbling with Mama slumped in her arms.

  “Mama?” She nudged Mama, who lay sprawled in her lap, motionless and bleeding. “I’m sorry, Mama… I’m so, so sorry…”

She felt selfish for crying. No closure comes, only more misery. An unfathomable weight on her chest pressed down on her lungs until they nearly burst. The dam that long protected her heart ruptured at the pressure and a whimper bubbled to her lips, morphing into a full-throated outcry of grief.

A cry for the life she’ll never get back. For her Mama in her arms. For all the lives she ruined. For the fates of the people at the prom.

Only the unfeeling moon slipping in through a window attended her outburst. She knew that it wouldn't lament her in her time of sorrow, only spotlighting her lost soul under a cold and tyrannical white light. 

------

Katherine entered a bloody scene that would haunt her forever.

She found her in the ruined living room, under a beam of silver moonlight, like heaven itself was spotlighting her sinfulness. She was holding Jane Seymour’s corpse in her arms, rocking back and forth and sobbing. Katherine could see streaks of blood all over her tattered nightgown. She was hurt.

  “Joan?” She called softly.

Joan’s head snapped up. Her eyes were as pale and wide as the moon outside.

  “Let me help you, Joan,” Katherine approached slowly, as if she were actually trying to corner a scared stray kitten.

Joan bared her teeth for a moment, then looked down at her mother again and burst into a fresh set of tears. Her entire little body shook with the weight of her sobs.

  “Why couldn’t you have just left me alone?” She said, her voice nasally and wavering from crying. “N-none of this would have happened if you hadn’t… M-my Mama…” She uttered a long, keening whine that was reminiscent of a dying puppy.

  “I—” Katherine faltered. “I’m sorry.”

Joan’s body shuddered and she grit her teeth. An unseen force coiled around Katherine’s body and suspended her in the air tightly. Her breath hitched in shock and she couldn’t breathe. It felt as if the atmosphere was crushing her.

  “Look what you turned me into.” Joan whispered.

  “P-please don’t hurt me,” Katherine begged.

  “Why not?” Joan asked, and a pained smile tugged on her bloody lips. Tears start to roll down her cheeks again. “I’ve been hurt my whole life.”

Katherine stared at her in horror, realizing it was true. The girl before her had been hurt more than she ever had been in her entire eighteen years of life.

How has Joan lived with so much pain inflicted on her tiny little body?

Joan released Katherine from whatever had been holding her, then bent over her mother and whimpered against her bloody shirt. She kept nuzzling into her chest, keening softly, and then looking up at her mother’s face, as if she was hoping her affection and presence would wake her up. When it didn’t work, she tried again and again and again, and it was the saddest thing Katherine had ever seen in her entire life.

  “I killed my mama,” Joan whispered. “I want her back!”

It was awful to see a child bound to such a witch of a woman. Katherine knew this lady had hurt Joan severely, and yet Joan still loved her. 

A crack suddenly zigzagged through the wall. Katherine jerked her head around to see several other cobwebs of crevices splinter through the walls around them. The wood holding up the house creaked and then began to shake ominously like an erupting volcano.

  “Joan!” Katherine cried. “We need to leave!”

  “No.” Joan held firmly to her mother’s corpse, curling against it loyally. “I’m not leaving.”

  “Joan, please!” Katherine begged. “I can’t lose you, too!”

That made Joan look up.

For just a moment, Katherine felt a glimmer of hope when Joan sat up slightly, but then she looked back down at the corpse and her body covered in blood and crumpled right back into a fetal position. Katherine then realized that she didn’t just want to stay with her dead mother—she was immobilized by pain and grief and trauma.

Joan wanted to die.

And there was nothing Katherine could do to stop her.

Except--

Katherine took a small step forward. The entire house rumbled. The walls were starting to break themselves into tiny pieces. Chunks of the ceiling were falling loose and Katherine barely managed to duck away before some rubble smashed into her skull.

  “Joan--”

She grabbed Joan and scooped her into her arms. 

Joan jolted and then screeched in a fit of outrage instantly. She kicked and squirmed and clawed at Katherine's face, but she was much too little and much too weak to get free. Katherine ran outside with the screaming girl as the house began to crumble.

The walls folded inwards like a collapsed tower of cards, and then the roof came crashing down. The earth shifted and opened into a wide sinkhole that swallowed the house, devouring the walls and the floors and the furniture and all those awful crucifixes Katherine had seen hanging up until there was nothing left to mourn. Dirt and rubble poured down into the abyss, sending a tidal wave of dust crashing into Katherine and Joan.

  “MAMA!!!!” Joan shrieked. She fought Katherine even harder, sending them both toppling to the grass. She tried to scramble forward and nearly got caught in a piece of sinking debris, but Katherine grappled onto her dress and yanked her back into her arms. “MAMA! MAMA, NO!!”

She squirmed and struggled, reaching one arm out to the destruction. Her movements were starting to slow down, but her screaming and crying did not seize.

  “I’m scared!” Joan wailed. She looked up at Katherine, eye shimmering with tears, and she suddenly looked a lot younger. “I-I hurt! I want my Mama!”

  “Shh, shh,” Katherine pulled her closer and rocked her gently, like you would a fussy baby. “It’s going to be okay, Joan. I’ve got you. I’m here.”

Joan opened her mouth again, and Katherine expected her to scream once more, but all that came out was a moan. It was only then that Katherine realized just how badly she was wounded.

  “Oh god, Joan…”

There was a cut across her right arm and up her stomach, as well as one on her left ankle, a small prick on her back, and slits in her cheeks, but the worst injury was the stab wound in her back, which was still gushing out blood. Katherine ripped off her jacket and pressed it to the injury on her back, which elicited a flinched and a whimper of pain.

  “I’m sorry, sweetheart,” Katherine murmured, holding Joan’s head close to her chest. She gently stroked her unruly hair. “It’s going to be okay.”

  “Hurts…” Joan mumbled. Her eyes were suddenly very cloudy and rapidly losing focus. “Mama…?”

  “No, Joan.” Katherine said. “It’s Katherine. Katherine Howard. I’m going to help you, okay? You’re going to be alright.”

But Joan’s body was slowly depleting itself of strength and becoming limp in Katherine’s arms. She was losing too much blood.

  “Mama.” Joan decided and sluggishly snuggled her head closer to Katherine. Her face was twisted in pain and she was still crying, but Katherine swore she looked just a little happy being held in someone’s arms.

  “I’m so sorry, Joan,” Katherine whispered. “Oh, sweetie… I’m so sorry.”

Joan was much too dazed to answer, although her mouth was half open like she wanted to. Her eyes were glazed over, distant, and looked like glass orbs in their sockets, leaking out jewel drops of silver tears. Katherine got choked up just looking at her.

  “It’s going to be okay, it’s all going to be okay,” She wept, pressing her head against Joan’s and rocking her back and forth again. “I promise, sweetie. It’s going to be okay soon.”

Joan’s head lolled and Katherine kept it firmly in place, even as the rest of her body when limp and cold. Still, she cradled the little girl, crying into the night, lying to Joan and herself over and over again because nothing would ever be okay ever again.

And then, a blindingly bright beam of light hit her and she flinched. The body in her arms was cold and then burning hot and then not there at all. Everything around her melted into nothingness.

  “Name, please.”

  “...”

  “State your full name.”

  “You already know my name, it's Katherine! Katherine Howard. Can you turn down that light? I can't see.”

  “Tell us about the night of May 28th. About the occurrences that led up to the alleged event.”

  “Alleged event? Why are you asking me the same thing over and over again? Are you trying to catch me in a lie? Is that it?”

  “We want the truth.”

  “I've already told you the truth! How many times do we have to go through this?”

  “Until we understand.”

  “What you need to understand is that we were just kids! Kids trying to do our best. We were kids...who made a mistake.”

Nineteen year old Katherine Howard leaned back in her chair, arms crossed firmly over her chest, eyes set on the detective in front of her. She was a sharply dressed woman named Victoria Green, with hawk-like facial features, pinned back strawberry blonde hair, and mossy green eyes. Like all adults nowadays, she looked at Katherine like she wanted to open up her brain and read through all her thoughts and memories.

Katherine finally came full circle into an ever-repeating loop of nightmares.

  “What can you tell me about Joan Seymour?”

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