#holy shit how did i spend 3 hours writing this what even is my blog

[godstrain]

Rex’s Gardening Service here.

Loamy Soil:

Your passions outside of role play seep through in your writing; you bring an intellectual edge to your words, and it’s very satisfying to see. You’re also a very sweet person, and I hope you get to know you better.

Sunlight:

I’m just so impressed with your portrayal of Albert Wesker. This is a character I’ve loved for well over a decade, and yet I find myself loving him more and more through your muse. You don’t pull any punches, but you also don’t— hesitate to get down and dirty with his trauma and his struggles. Don’t ever change.

Drizzle from the watering can:

Tell us a self-indulgent headcanon that you have about your muse.

th,,, h

holy shit rex im going to fuckn cry???? what the fuck this is so sweet of you!!!!

but im going to get super real here.

honestly, when i first jumped into the RE rabbit hole, i was worried that i wouldn't be able to do wesker justice- and you know my track record of muses well enough from seeing me in the pokemon fandom lmao- and it's not like i haven't written characters that are sorta wesker-adjacent before, because i have, and still there was this lingering doubt which i will guess is due to the fact i had also never really been in a horror franchise because i had so much that i was afraid of. fear, i have found, really does hold people back, and i basically had to supreme exposure therapy myself and even then i was having a time.

that was ... may 5th, 2023. the day i decided to bite the bullet and make wesker a blog and write a character from a franchise i literally knew NOTHING about. and that's not often my style. i am a perfectionist at heart- proud and rather critical of my work, wanting to always put out my best and show that i know exactly what the hell i'm talking about. i'm a researcher and scholar just as much as i am an artist and writer- i accept nothing but 100%, and in the past, i would spend countless hours doing research before writing a goddamn thing, i'd comb through my rp partner's blogs for metas so i could make something unique for their portrayal (and that is something i still do and will always do), and then when everything was in place, i'd post a goddamn reply. i usually read at least 5 scholarly articles about a topic that i want to tie into a muse before writing a meta. i put my professional resources to use to bring life to my fiction.

but with wesker, i just went headfirst in. i didn't master the lore. i skimmed a wiki page and watched a few clips from various iterations of his character. i took a look at his tag on tumblr and twitter (and promptly was like mkay can't handle this right now). i read the wiki page a little more closely, and then i took the leap of faith, hoping that all the things i had learned from past characters and all the knowledge i had accumulated and all the experiences i've had working in the inpatient psych unit would be enough. i am not the type to leave anything unattended. this was wildly unlike me.

and i am so glad i did this, and more than that i am so, so honored that you have found more things to love about wesker through my portrayal. the portrayal that didn't get the same perfectionist treatment before it even saw the light of day. wesker, whose lore i have explored rather extensively in the ... what uh. 3 months i have been writing him- there's so much i still have to learn, and so much i want to explore. i see art as it should be: a mirror of life and society. the truth is, albert wesker could be anyone. that pain and suffering and horrible upbringing is a thing that happens. he's so painfully alive in that way. it's hard to look at the truth like that, but i also sure hate ignorance, in myself and in others. we cannot learn if we do not see. so i don't hold my punches, and i don't hide the aspects of him that i know sometimes would be cut out. there's so much i have learned from writing wesker- about how i write, what i expect of myself, and how i can better myself in so many ways, and i never expected to learn through this.

so thank you. thank you so much for this, it means more than i could possibly put into words.

on the note of self-indulgent meta analysis, i want you to know that i picked "wilde" for wesker's original surname because of my love for oscar wilde. it's a common theme in my metas where i will throw in something as a treat for myself like that. i picked cambridge, ma, for his birthplace because i live nearby, and there's something about having a character you love "nearby" that is??? sorta serotonin inducing. you know, in the style of tolkien's desire of dragons- "I desired dragons with a profound desire. Of course, I in my timid body did not wish to have them in the neighborhood. But the world that contained even the imagination of Fáfnir was richer and more beautiful, at whatever the cost of peril." and for me, i guess it's something like that. i keep the things i find the most interesting close in some form, yeah?

#chounaifu #writing is hard ╱ out #ONE DAY THERE WILL BE ASSOCIATED WITH MY NAME THE RECOLLECTION OF SOMETHING FRIGHTFUL‚ OF A CRISIS LIKE NO OTHER BEFORE ╱ META

[biggest-gaudiest-patronuses]

So I (finally!) bought a pair of really good noise cancelling headphones, and it has changed my life! It's the fanciest thing I've bought in years, so to recoup some of the cost, I’ve researched & written a little essay based on my experiences with extreme noise sensitivity.

Hypersensitivity to sound is something I’ve dealt with all of my life, but I only recently found out it's medically known a Hyperacusis. (Please note this is a separate condition from Misophonia.) If you consistently struggle to cope with noise, the info below could be helpful! I’m including a link to my ko-fi, and I will be answering questions in the notes.

(skip to the bottom to read fun facts about my tax return and/or street organs vendettas!)

DISCLAIMER: I am not a professional, this is based solely on my experiences as a patient, and on what I have read and been told by professionals. Please notify me if you have corrections or concerns about accuracy!

BACKGROUND: Sensitivity to sound is a common type of sensory issue. While anyone can experience such issues (most people, for example, might be bothered by loud music in a crowded restaurant), some people are more sensitive than others, to the point it becomes a quality-of-life aka a medical issue.

If you consistently struggle with environmental stimuli that other people aren’t bothered by (background noises, bright lights, certain textures and tastes, etc), to the point it causes daily discomfort or limits the environments you can be in, I recommend reading about Sensory Processing Disorder.

SPD and sound sensitivity are both super common in autistic folks (like me!), but allistic (non-autistic) people can experience them too. Weep, ye prisoners of mortal coil, for none are safe, nothing sacred, not in this thy most accursed tomb of human flesh!

Anyway.

SOUND SENSITIVITY or HYPERACUSIS: Noise issues are particularly difficult to navigate in a world that is increasingly...noisy. The relatively new phenomenon of constant overhead music in restaurants, grocery stores, shopping malls etc—all of this means that public spaces are increasingly inaccessible to people with auditory issues.*

As a kid, nothing quite triggered sensory overload/meltdowns for me like the constant exposure to noise I couldn’t control—the background chatter of other kids in the lunchroom, the constant noise in public spaces, being trapped in the car with the radio on.... I had so many fights with my siblings about the car radio, and who got to choose the music.**

But it’s not just loud sounds that are the problem. As an adult who lives alone and works from home***, I’m lucky enough to be able to avoid loud environments most of the time. This does wonders for my general levels of anxiety and discomfort. But even in a mostly controlled environment, I still experience problems. Because part of sound sensitivity is that even normal or quiet sounds can feel loud and intrusive. Here are some “normal” sounds that can cause me discomfort (ranging from annoyance to outright pain, depending on the day):

refrigerator/AC/ceiling lights humming

dishwasher/washing machine noises

ceiling fan making that damn ceiling fan noise

faint sounds of traffic

riding in a car

other people having a normal conversation in the background

someone talking to me in a perfectly normal inside voice

Unfortunately, even in a “controlled” environment, many triggering noises can’t be controlled. And many parts of life can’t be lived in a controlled environment. This presents...some incredibly freaking annoying problems. Luckily there are solutions!

Sorta.

There are sorta some solutions.

They are imperfect, but they help.

TREATMENT: And now I have something rather shame-faced to admit. In all the years of managing my symptoms, it never once occurred to me to see a hearing specialist for my issues with sound. I wasn’t even aware that treatment options exist, because none of my other doctors mentioned it. Instead, I’ve spent years finding my own coping mechanisms and tools, with help from therapists and psychiatrists, but without ever consulting an audiologist/ENT. It was only while researching this post that I found out that was even an option, holy shit.

So it turns out I am going to be making an appointment with my local ENT practice. shit.

Apparently treatment options include sound/acoustic therapy, systematic desensitization/exposure therapy, cognitive behavior therapy, sound machines, and other options that I had no idea even existed, goddammit.

MANAGEMENT: In the meantime, here are my current coping mechanisms. I’ve relied rather heavily on hearing protection, which is very useful when used in moderation. Unfortunately, it can cause its own problems: it’s important not to overuse hearing protection, because in the long-term this can increase your sensitivity. So again: a useful tool, but be careful not to overdo it.

With that in mind, here are some of the coping strategies I’ve used over the last decade to manage my symptoms. This is not a perfect system and you should contact your local ENT clinic for better, long-term solutions, but in the meantime here are some tips I use to just get myself through the damn day:

Regularly spending time in a quiet controlled environment, to allow my nervous system to decompress.

Wearing earplugs, (I use two different grade, depending on the level of noise prevention I need), and always carrying an extra pair in case I need them unexpectedly. I bought a 50 pack for $7 and put spares in all my bags and jacket pockets.

(I mostly use Mack’s Ultra Soft, but there are so many types and materials and brands, including foam, silicone, wax, custom moldable etc. Even if you have trouble wearing things in your ears, you might be able to find something comfortable.)

Similarly: hearing protection earmuffs, the kind used in gun ranges and on construction sites. I bought mine online for $10. they look like normal wireless headphones, so I've never gotten comments when wearing mine in public (other than “cool heaphones” bc i added skull glitter stickers).

Sometimes I wear the earmuffs on top of earplugs, when life is just too damn LOUD.

Listening to music w/ earbuds or headphones is a great way to balance out background noises, especially if you can find soothing playlists that help you concentrate. Also useful to put in just one earbud when you need to pay attention in class/at work.

Pro tip: if your hair is long enough you can wear wireless earbuds without anyone knowing.

White noise, rain noises, ocean noises etc can be helpful! Some people like whale songs although personally this activates my primal fear response

Active noise cancelling headphones: the reason I wrote this post to begin with—I finally bought a pair! As in, a really good pair! As in, a depressingly expensive pair with noise cancelling technology that actually WORKS, holy shit. I probably need to wear them a little less at home (bc overprotection causes problems in the longterm) but they have absolutely transformed my ability to go out in public and i never ever want to take these suckers off again please take a power screwdriver and nail these to my head, bury me in the sweet sweet shroud of silence. holy canoli and cream puffs I want to marry form a civil partnership with these headphones. Plus they have a bunch of features, like being able to control the level of noise cancellation, so I can hold a conversation or be aware of some ambient noise for safety reasons.

Oh, and also they play music I guess?

Sorry sorry I promise this post wasn’t supposed to be me shilling for Big Electronics. I’m just excited, I’m an excited flabby little ball of expired flubber. ANC headphones aren’t a perfect solution, and I still sometimes wear earplugs underneath, and I will always be uncomfortable some of the time, but for me it’s been a big step.

Unfortunately the cost of good quality ANC technology means this isn’t an option for everyone, and the (much cheaper) gunshot protection earmuffs I mentioned earlier still provide an impressive amount of protection and bang-for-your buck (maybe even an equal amount of protection, if you can find ones that fit well). But if noise consistently prevents you from enjoying public space and life in general, and you’ve already tried earmuffs & earplugs and find they don’t offer enough comfort/convenience/protection, and if you’re in a position to save up for a one time non-necessity purchase of $150+, noise cancelling headphones are an option to be aware of. (Please always check the return policy so you can try before you buy. I ended up buying and returning 2 pairs before finding what worked best for me. And please look for a retailer that offers an extended warranty. You want those motherforkers to last).

There are cheaper options available, including some under $50. The ones I tried didn't work as well as my hearing protection earmuffs, but some people report good experiences, so that is something to consider. it's always good to know your options! Passive noise canceling is another affordable alternative.

Medication: A final tool in my toolbox, which for me personally has helped as much as every other method combined. Like, a lot, it’s helped a lot. It turns out some anti-anxiety medications can also help sensory issues. There’s not much research on this, and I only discovered it firsthand when a medication my doctor prescribed for anxiety ended up significantly helping my sensory issues. I no longer need medication for anxiety, but my psychiatrist still prescribes that same medication off-label for my sensory stuff. Ask your psychiatrist to research your options (they will probably have to do some digging to find relevant research, but you deserve to know all your options, even the obscure ones). Fyi, the medication I use is in the benzodiazepines class, but there are other options for those concerned about dependency or side effects.

(I'm also told anti-anxiety supplements may be helpful, though I haven't tried this yet. If you're on prescription meds, always talk to your doctor about contraindications before taking anything over-the-counter.)

So there you have it, my main coping strategies for sound sensitivity! They are not a replacement for medical treatment (except that last one which is in fact...medical treatment), but I find them helpful and I hope some of you will too! I’ve struggled for a long time, and I’m very pleased to have reached the point where I can just do things in public. Eating out in loud restaurants? I can do that now, and even enjoy it, holy shit! I can comfortably travel in cars for hours at a time, and walk around shopping malls and grocery stores with overhead music, and, and —and just exist. It is so so freeing, to feel like maybe, after everything, you are actually allowed to just exist in a world that wasn’t really designed for you.

Again, be careful not to overuse hearing protection—the goal is to allow you to be less uncomfortable and to function better, but if you find you are becoming more sensitive to noise, it is time to dial it back a notch. Or maybe consider listening to music (at a reasonable volume) to block out background noise instead.

*(This also includes people with hearing loss and related issues, btw. While that’s not my area of knowledge, I would welcome it if any of my HoH followers want to share their experiences.)

**A sign of sensory issues that parents often miss is when a child complains about music being too loud—but has no problem listening to their own music at high volume. This is because music that is already familiar to the listener (and that the listener enjoys) is much easier for the brain to process, since it knows what pattern of sounds to expect. Loud music that they get to control can be soothing for people with sound issues, especially when it blocks out background noise and sensations. This is why repetitively playing the same songs can be a helpful form of stimming.

***(working on this blog, actually. since it��s my only source of income, my 2020 income tax return literally lists my occupation as ‘Tumblr Blogger.’ Oddly, my parent didn’t feel this achievement was worth including in the holiday family newsletter.)

bonus fun fact: Charles Babbage aka “father of the computer” may have been autistic and hypersensitive to sound. He definitely had a huge problem with public noise pollution, and spent his later year waging a war on street musicians (and organ grinders in particular).

(bc like, yeah. screw organ grinders.)

Sometimes when I’m out in public and the overhead music is particularly unbearable, I’ll take a moment to look up to the sky and scream out: “HE TRIED TO WARN US! THE FATHER OF COMPUTERS TRIED TO WARN US!!! we should have listened, sweet heaven we should have listened!”

except i don’t scream it, i say it very quietly under my breath

(i have issues with noise)

so yeah that is my short essay. and here is the ko-fi goal

k ciao i gotta go pick out glitter stickers for my headphones

#actuallyautistic #not a shitpost #holy shit how did i spend 3 hours writing this what even is my blog #this blog is supposed to be blue whale anxiety and uncomfortably sexy clown jokes #what am i doing #sensory processing disorder #sensory issues #mental health #actually autistic #NOTIFY ME OF ANY TYPOS #i proofread this 5 times my eyes weep an unceasing flood of blood and regret #adhd #actuallyadhd #autism #sensory problems

[yuthoe]

Time (MONSTA X: Chae Hyungwon)

a few things:

1. yes i'm a monbebe now too and i fully blame fatal love era hyungwon for it. he has my multistan ass whipped

2. THIS IS THE LONGEST FIC I'VE EVER WRITTEN FOR THIS BLOG HOLY GAWD

3. i'm back to going to the office everyday for work, so we're back to infrequent posting lmao

ok so. i've wanted to write a vampire fic for so long now (the previous/first one i wrote was back in 1st year high school and despite my massive vampire kink i didn't attempt to make any other vamp related stories haha), and when i saw hyungwon in that red suit with the long hair and the eyebags and the turtleneck i just kinda went feral. this thing took me like, almost a month to write; it's been hard to cook up writing brain juice between work and trying to be healthy and keeping up with the pan de manila.

i fully intended for this to be like, sexy suggestive and leading to something more for the ending, but like. it turned out soft. somehow. the premise was perfect, but somehow my brain was like, "no make it soft" and we have whatever this is.

this is unedited bc i wrote it half-asleep and wanted to get it out there

PAIRING: Chae Hyungwon x reader. GENRE: vampire!AU, some fluff, modern fantasy. WARNINGS: vampire-typical injuries—biting, blood—some very mild sexual themes. WORD COUNT: 3,589 (holy shit).

---

The entryway is lit by the two dim overhead lights, casting an orange tint to the concrete floor. You take care to slip your shoes on quietly, not wanting to accidentally wake the slumbering man in the other room; he just got home a few hours ago and you didn’t want to cut his sleep short, remembering how he slowly slipped under the covers with you, winding an arm around your midsection and releasing a heavy breath before passing out.

So with a glance at your watch—the one he got you for your birthday a few years back, the one you’ve worn almost everywhere since—you grab your work bag and try to slip off the chain lock with as little sound as possible.

“Are you leaving for work?”

You flinch at his voice, huskier now with remnants of sleep. Hyungwon has a thing about soundlessly walking into places and surprising you by suddenly speaking. Your face scrunches at your failed attempt to slip out unnoticed, and a loud sigh escapes your lips as you turn to face him.

“How long have you been awake?” you ask, stepping right to the elevated wooden floor that separates the entryway to the living area. Hyungwon is wearing a white shirt that completely swallows his slender frame and loose pajama pants. You cup his soft cheek, drag your hand to his neck, his shoulder, down his arm, until you’re intertwining your fingers.

“Pretty much since you left the bed,” he mumbles, taking his other hand and wrapping it around you, pulling you to his chest. You feel him rest his face on the top of your head and breathe in your scent.

“Aw,” you reply quietly, smoothing a hand down his back. “And I thought I was being super quiet this time.”

There’s comfortable silence as Hyungwon basks in your warmth and you can swear he’s close to falling asleep where he stands. You think there’s no other place you’d want to be right now, but unfortunately, you need to work and he needs to sleep.

You let go of the strap on your bag and tap his side gently. “I have to go,” you murmur.

Hyungwon groans, lowers his head and tilts it to the side to whisper directly into your ear. “Do you really have to? Because there’s something more important you need to do here.” He noses at your temple, his cold breath fanning against your ear.

“Oh? And what is that?” It’s too early in the day for goosebumps, and the faster you force him back to bed, the better your chances of resisting the sweet pull of his voice.

“Mmm…,” he groans again, and you feel his smile as he kisses your ear. “Sleep.”

You snort, pulling away with a soft smile, free hand coming to cup his face. You pass your thumb over his cheekbone and watch as he melts at your touch, dark bangs falling over his closed eyes. “I’ll be home early today, love,” you say, pressing a soft kiss to his plump lips.

Hyungwon’s eyes open unhurried, and he leans down to return the peck, lips moving slow against yours like honey. “Hurry back,” he mumbles against your lips.

***

A quiet sigh leaves his lips as Hyungwon toes off his shoes, leaving them at their designated space at the entrance. He hangs his bag and coat on the hooks before silently walking through the apartment to the bathroom, eager to scrub himself clean of the aggravating scents and grime of the club.

Hyungwon loves his job, he does. The people he interacts with there, though? Still up for debate.

The hot, almost scalding water seeps into his skin, warming him up from the outside. He’s used to the cold, he himself being below the normal human temperature for nearly a century now. The droplets sting a little, but it’s the pain that grounds Hyungwon to reality, a sort of proof of life in his years of floating along the endless river of time, never knowing when and where his journey would end.

There’s another pain, a burning in his throat, that reminds him well of his immortality. It assaults him every few days, and over the years has dulled from hurting so bad he nearly claws out his neck, to just being a pain in the ass that makes him cough if he doesn’t slake the thirst.

Hyungwon’s body cools rapidly when he shuts off the water, the soft April chill helping it along so that he’s mostly dry when he grabs his towel.

The bedroom is silent when he slips in, quickly dressing in the huge shirt and loose pants from yesterday, before he ducks out again to make a beeline to the kitchen, folding his tall frame into a crouch as he opens the refrigerator. There’s a space just for his blood bags in the far corner of the fridge, that he immediately scans and finds empty. Hyungwon groans and slaps a hand over his face.

Of course he forgets to stop by the blood bank tonight. He vaguely remembers taking the last bag four days ago and making a mental note to call Kihyun for his refills, but there must have been something that distracted him at the time because at present, he can’t recall contacting Kihyun about it at all, despite exchanging messages regularly.

He stands to his full height as he closes the door, leans his head against it as he mulls over his forgetfulness that never went away in all his years of living. And before he slips back into your bedroom and into the sweet realm of sleep, he rummages in his bag for his phone, texts his friend, gets a short scolding about his poor memory, and then sets a date to pick up his food.

Hyungwon quietly pads back to the bedroom and closes the door soundlessly, careful not to wake you. He slides in next to you, pulling the comforter snug against him as he rests on his elbows. He takes a few seconds to gaze at your sleeping figure, something he does every night. The random thought of coming off as creepy on the off chance you wake up runs through his head, but at the same time he thinks he wouldn’t mind if you catch him watching you sleep.

You know Hyungwon loves you, and he’s told you before that you’re one of his anchors to his hold on humanity. Never once in your two-year relationship did you take his vulnerability for granted, and he’s (quite literally) eternally grateful for your kindness and love.

He settles in on his side, and his shuffling has got you adjusting to his shape under the covers. Hyungwon feels you turn to face him and reach for his arm. You groan small, pull at his slender limb to wrap it around you, and he just lets you move him the way you want, an amused smile on his face. His other arm slides beneath your neck, and you nuzzle closer to him, breathing deep when you’re finally satisfied. He counts five seconds before your breaths even out in slumber.

Hyungwon presses a kiss to the crown of your head and inhales your scent, relaxed now and ready to follow you into sleep.

***

His alarm wakes him at noon, the shrill tone making him jerk and tighten his arm around the warm body in front of him, brows scrunching as he groans softly. Hyungwon stretches an arm towards the nightstand and turns off the alarm with an expert swipe of a finger. He buries his nose into your hair, not wanting to enter the land of the living yet. You respond with a hum, shifting and turning so your back is pressed against his chest.

You both try to doze off again before Hyungwon realizes two things:

One—It’s a Friday.

Two—You’re still in his arms.

“Love,” he mumbles against your hair.

You reply around five seconds later, with a simple grunt.

Hyungwon snorts a laugh, eyes still closed, but mind slowly waking with every passing second. “Aren’t you supposed to be at work?”

Another grunt from you, this time louder and longer. You shuffle under the sheets to turn to him again, eyes persistently closed and brows knit slightly. “Took the day off,” you mumble and slither your arm under his, scooting closer to bury your face in his neck. “Wanted to spend some time with you.”

At this Hyungwon smiles, rests his cheek on your head. “So we have until tomorrow night to do whatever then.”

It’s quiet for a few moments before your head shoots up. The movement startles Hyungwon and makes his eyes pop open. Bleary eyes meet, yours equal parts confused and suspicious. “What do you mean? You took the night off, too? But it’s Friday—the club’s gonna be packed.”

He levels you with a casual shrug. “Yeah,” he says, sliding his hand up your arm that’s around him, and stopping at your neck. His large hand completely covers your neck, long fingers splaying onto your cheek and winding into your hair. “I wanted to spend time with you, too.” He clears his throat. “I’ve missed you.” Hyungwon can feel the steady pulse under your skin and he clears his throat again.

You smile, lean down to press a sweet kiss to his lips.

And another one.

And another.

And you would have rained more kisses on him had he not started coughing and turned his head away. The ache in Hyungwon’s throat wasn’t that bad when he was asleep, but now that he’s awake, it’s irritating to the point of annoyance. He knows the thirst is his fault, but damn, would it kill him if he could have a peaceful morning (noon) with you before his body complains about being hungry?

He feels a hand smoothing down his back as the coughing goes down. He takes shaky breaths as he sits up and leans on the headboard. After a big exhale from him, you say, “Are you okay?”

Hyungwon looks at you and smiles tightly. “I’m fine. Just a bit hungry.” He sits up, only to scoot closer to you and wind an arm around your back. He rests his forehead on your shoulder as he talks, voice low and scratchy. “Ran out of my supply and I forgot to call Kihyun about it, and it’s been a few days since I had a drink. And it’ll be a couple more days before I can stop by the blood bank for my refills.” A cough.

Your arms are around his wiry frame, fingers running up and down his spine and making him drowsy. He’s still tired and sleepy, but the thirst is keeping him awake.

“Do you want a drink?” you ask quietly. “From me?”

Hyungwon stills, a shiver running down his spine. It’s not all the time he gets to drink from you; in fact, he makes it a point to not do it because he doesn’t want to scare you off. You’ve been living together for six months, known each other for years before that, but he still worries, silently waiting for the day you decide that being with a vampire isn’t worth it after all.

“No, it’s fine,” he says. “I’m fine.” He pushes down the cough building in his throat.

You card your fingers through his long hair. “I know you try not to, but I’m okay with it. You sound like you’re really hurting.” You rest your head against his. “We’ve done it before, and it didn’t really hurt. And I trust you, Hyungwon.”

Hyungwon is tired. Is sleepy. The thirst isn’t all that bad, but the coughing is aggravating his already dry throat. He hasn’t gotten a sip of blood in five days and nothing else could quench this particular thirst quite as well.

A small cough. “Are you sure?”

Your head is still resting on his and he feels you nod. “Yeah. Besides, I…” You clear your throat before speaking. “I like it when you drink from me.”

The vampire freezes, not quite knowing what to do with this newly revealed information. He’s not sure if what he feels right now is mild lust or genuine surprise. In the (very) rare times he drinks from you he thought he saw a twinkle of anticipation in your eyes, like you’ve been craving it, too. He thinks maybe his view of himself is clouding whatever opinion you have of him, bad and good alike.

Hyungwon’s lips purse, trying to keep himself from laughing because he can tell you’re serious about this, just as worried about him as you are excited about the prospect of being bitten; it’s still a bit unbelievable. He finally raises his head and looks square at you.

“You’re really okay with this?” he asks again. “You really want me to drink from you?” He crosses his legs under the blankets and pulls you with the arm still around your back.

Sometimes you forget Hyungwon is so strong—he doesn’t make his strength known to you, unless you both need it a little rough in bed. Now, he practically lifts you onto his lap, emboldened by your declaration. You straddle him, sitting snugly with both his arms around you; your hands naturally find themselves on his broad shoulders.

“Mhm,” you simply say, nodding your head. Adrenaline is running through your veins, and you’re sure Hyungwon can clearly hear how loud and fast your heart is beating right now.

It also seems like he can read your mind because he takes one of his hands and rests it softly against your chest, right over your heart.

You see him swallow. “Your heart is beating so fast,” he says, dragging his hand up to your neck, fingers soft on your skin, and you shiver. “Your pulse is racing.” Hyungwon is looking at you like you’re a meal he can’t wait to devour. “You’re really excited about this, aren’t you?”

“Yeah,” you say, even though you don’t really know if what you’re feeling is excitement or embarrassment or lust of fear. You can’t recall any of the previous times he fed from you being this tense—it was always out of desperation and pain that he reached out to you for this, and despite this moment being along the same lines, it’s… very different.

The loose collar of your sweater—one of his you pilfered long ago—is pulled to the side, and you shiver again as his fingertip brushes against your skin. Goosebumps raise on your arms as Hyungwon trails that single finger over your collarbone, up your neck again, to cup your chin and pull you in for a kiss.

His lips are gentle, but you can feel he’s holding back, trying to take it slow in case you change your mind. When you respond and bite his lip, he growls and pulls you by the back of the head to kiss you deeper. The arm around your back tightens, and you feel his fingers tangle in your hair as he angles your head the way he wants.

Tiny moans spill from your lips as Hyungwon’s tongue explores your mouth. When he pulls away, your sight is flooded with his red irises, gold specks swimming in the pool of his eyes that almost glow in the dark room. So chillingly beautiful.

You’re breathing hard, unable to look away from Hyungwon’s captivating gaze. A thought passes through: No wonder humans just fall at their feet—who could look away from such a mesmerizing sight?

“Last chance,” he mutters, wetting his plump bottom lip, his scarlet eyes fixed on your neck. “You really want this?”

You card your fingers through his head and tilt his face up, dropping a kiss to his closed eyes, his nose, his pretty lips. You cup his cheek and give him a small smile. “Do it.”

Hyungwon takes a deep breath and kisses your cheek, trails his lips to nip your earlobe, and then lower… He goes slow, building up your anticipation, getting your heart rate up with every kiss and nip and suck.

He laves his tongue over a spot on your neck, and you let out a sigh, relaxing in Hyungwon’s firm hold. The hand still tangled in your hair guides you, tilting your head to the side. He noses at your neck and gives you a final soft kiss, before he draws his fangs and punctures your jugular.

You squeak in pain; the bite stings, but it goes away as fast as it came. You feel Hyungwon draw back his fangs and begin to suck, dragging his tongue over the wounds, and groaning low in his throat at the sweet taste of you.

It occurs to him how much he misses feeding from you. Because of the rarity of these occasions, your blood becomes a treat to him, a sort of delicacy that he deliberately denies himself of. It didn’t take him too long after that first taste of you long ago, to realize that your blood is dangerously addicting.

Hyungwon focuses on drinking your blood, drinking in the small moans you make as he marks your soft skin. He feels your restless hands clawing at his back, the other winding through his long hair—pulling him close or pushing him away, you don’t know.

Your senses are heightened and dulled; you’re acutely aware of every miniscule movement of Hyungwon’s lips on your neck, but the rest of your body feels like it’s floating. He groans against your skin and the vibrations send a jolt of lightning up your spine and you whimper.

Hyungwon immediately pulls back, worried he hurt you. His mouth is stained red. “Are you okay?”

You’re nodding before he finishes, cupping his cheek with a hand. “I’m fine, Hyungwon.” You give him a small smile as he melts into your hand, one of his coming up to keep it there. “Did you want more?”

He shakes his head. “I’m feeling better now. Thank you, love.” He exhales, and you think he does look better than earlier—his skin is brighter, the bags under his eyes are gone, and he’s even breathing more easily. “Let me go clean you up,” he says, and lifts you gently off him, setting you down on the soft comforter just in front of him. He pats your knee before getting up and padding to the bathroom.

You gaze at him as he leaves, the sight of his model-like figure waddling like a penguin amusing. Hyungwon stops at the door and turns to you, smiling at you softly.

He returns a minute later, warm damp washcloth in hand, mouth clean and eyes a lovely brown. He sits at the edge of the bed and cleans your neck with gentle swipes. The bleeding has stopped and the wound is closed, but the surrounding skin is blooming with black and purple bruises. Hyungwon clicks his tongue. “I’m sorry, love. The bite’s gonna leave a mark.”

You carefully tap the wounds, smoothing fingertips over the raised marks. They sting a bit, but it feels more like the soreness after getting a vaccine shot than anything. “It’s okay, love. They’ll heal over the weekend.” You catch his lips in a soft kiss. “I’m glad you’re feeling better.”

He sets the bloody rag on the nightstand and moves closer to you, kissing you back, cradling your neck for support as he coaxes you to lie on the bed. You smile through the kiss, giggle as you wind your arms around his neck.

“Thank you,” he mumbles against your lips. “You looked so beautiful earlier… Thank you for letting me do that.”

You hum. “Anytime, you need, babe. I enjoyed it.”

Hyungwon is propped above you, a thigh slotted between yours. Lazy, slow kisses against the soft sheets seems like the perfect activity for the rest of the day. But you have other plans.

“I gotta admit, though,” you said, brushing his long bangs from his eyes. “That was… kinda hot.” You try to fight a smile, embarrassed at the admission, despite the compromising position you were in just minutes before.

Hyungwon chuckles, ducks his head to press a soft kiss to the puncture marks, the underside of your jaw, your earlobe. “I didn’t expect you to be so into it,” he whispers, his baritone voice seeping into your bones and making you shudder.

You laugh loud at that. “Well, my boyfriend is a hot vampire, what did you think was gonna happen?”

Hyungwon laughs with you, rests his forehead on yours and kisses you again. He buries his face into your neck, the unmarked side, and snakes his arms around your back and rolls you to your sides.

Fingers trace mindless shapes on his back, play with his long hair that’s tangled from your restless hands earlier, relax in the quiet of the afternoon. Your heads are at the foot of the bed, legs tangled together. From the top of Hyungwon’s head, you can just barely see the sun peeking through a slit between the dark curtains, but all you want to do is sleep.

You’re close to dozing off when Hyungwon suddenly speaks. Three words. Your favorite.

“I love you.” He squeezes you slightly and breathes in your scent.

You smile and reply, “I love you, too.”

The world outside your window keeps turning; the weather looks nice today. But you’re not stepping out, not when your whole world is right here, snuggled in your arms.

#kdiarynet #monsta x #monsta x hyungwon #chae hyungwon #monsta x hyungwon scenario #hyungwon scenario #hyungwon scenarios #hyugnwon imagine #fic: mine #fic: hyungwon #fic: not spicy #but it's mildly #monsta x smut #just putting that tag there just in caseee #BABY IS FINALLY DONE #i hope yall like it

[aliendes]

One More Day

shy!yoongi, brother!namjoon, depressed!reader

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Cute.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Do you smoke?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“YN. Sorry - my name is YN.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“YN.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I would love that.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Hi,” he said shyly, still smiling.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“YN.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“She’s waking up!” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Yoongi nodded, just glad you were alive and breathing. 

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

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

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

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

“Follow me.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yoongi?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Merry Christmas, my love.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“My brother.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I’ve missed you too baby sister.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yes…” you trailed off hesitantly. 

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

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

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

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

“Okay.” You state simply.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“For giving me one more day.”

© aliendes | copyright 2020

#bts fanfic #bts #bts yoongi #min yoongi #yoongi fanfic #yoongi #soft yoongi #depressed reader #depression #bangtan #bangtan fanfic #yoongi ff #suga #suga fanfic #aliendes #one more day #bts x reader #yoongi x reader #bts fic #bts oneshot #yoongi oneshot #yoongi angst #bts angst

[warriorsredux]

RE: Feedback for the Redux.

(I wanted to give you really in-depth feedback. Unfortunately, it ended up being way longer than I anticipated. I figured it would be easier to send this as a submission rather than breaking it up into a million smaller asks. I hope that’s all right!)

Note: I put this under a readmore to save space, but I have read it all and thoroughly agree with it. Thank you so much for the feedback, man!

Before I get into the nitty-gritty, I want to briefly talk about my personal relationship with Warriors - not because I want to talk about myself necessarily, but because I want to provide some relevant context. You see, I was first introduced to these books in 2004, about when I was nine years old. You could argue, in some ways, that these books defined a large part of my childhood, and were extremely influential into my teenage years and early adulthood. When I wasn’t fantasizing about colonies of talking feral cats, I was gleefully writing fanfics and roleplaying online. Those were my first tentative forays into writing, and would ultimately set me on the path to refine and hone those skills in the years to come. I was obsessed with the mythology and lore of this world, with the sprawling cast of characters, with the steady publication of new entries into the series.

Now, kids tend to not have the best critical thinking skills. Which is why it took until my late teenage years to realize that my cherished books were really, really not that great. The mythology and lore that I’d praised were starved of any creativity, steeped in the cliches of the fantasy genre, and prone to collapsing under their own weight when subjected to even the smallest amount of scrutiny. The characters that I adored? They were blighted with similar cliches, lacking in any sort of growth or development or depth; sustained only by archetypes and whatever retcons the authors thought would sell the most books, either through hype, drama, or fanservice. Exacerbating all of this was the publisher’s insistence on milking the franchise for whatever profit nostalgia could still yield. They weren’t writing more books because they had new, interesting ideas they wanted to explore - they did it because this series was (and still is) fucking lucrative. As I thought about these things more critically, and became more informed on social issues, it became impossible to unsee the uglier aspects of the franchise - the ableism, the queerbaiting and lack of representation, the depiction of minors and adults (Dustpelt and Ferncloud, Thistleclaw and Spottedleaf) having romantic or sexual relationships, the blind nationalism and eugenics/persecution of minorities (non-Clanborn cats) and characters of mixed descent (half-Clan cats). People far more informed and far more eloquent than myself have discussed those issues in-depth elsewhere, but suffice to say, I was understandably upset by these things. No amount of nostalgia could blind me to those flaws.

And yet, for some reason, I never really stopped loving Warriors. Or put more accurately - I never stopped loving the potential of Warriors. That was the thing that I kept coming back to. The wasted potential of a series depicting the lives of feral cats, and their brutal struggle to survive in the wilderness, all the while deeply immersed in their own complex societies and cultures. It became painfully clear to me that the thing I loved about Warriors was the sandbox nature of the franchise, and all the ways fans were able to explore that untapped potential. With that realization now achieved, Warriors slipped into the back of my mind, accruing cobwebs as the years passed. Occasionally those dormant thoughts stirred whenever I saw a piece of fanart on my dashboard, or I passed a new release while browsing the local Barnes & Noble. Sometimes I even entertained the fleeting thought of writing AU fics again. But by and large, Warriors had been retired from my thoughts.

And then, in 2017, I found the Redux.

While writing this segment I had several false starts, in no small part because I didn’t know what to talk about first. It was like someone had gone through my thoughts with a steel-toothed comb, and took every disappointment, every what if, and turned it into a reality. Holy shit, look at this blog! Look at the meta commentary! Look at all of the worldbuilding! I could clearly see just how much passion and attention to detail was put into developing the plot and the characters. How many hundreds of hours went into correcting the broken genetics of the canon characters. Suddenly, the Clans had culture - real, living, breathing culture! There was a pantheon of deities and demigods. A deliberate intention behind the naming tradition beyond slapping two words together because they sounded pretty or made for a trite pun. This. This was the story Warriors should have been. This lone blog managed to conceive an original lore for the Clans, while further developing the canon plots beyond their base elements. What three authors failed to do, one person achieved on their own.

You made forgettable characters interesting. And you made interesting characters unforgettable.

I lived for every scrap of content you created - the asks, the deconstructions, the amendment posts, the art, even the fucking shitposts (because they were just genuinely wholesome and funny). The Redux wasn’t just a source of entertainment, either - it introduced me to the idea of writing an AU that was sustained by meta-analysis, and grounded in critical reception of the series’ flaws (both technical and social). Your work eventually inspired me to create my own Redux-style worldbuilding/AU blog for a series that has similar issues to canon Warriors.

The Redux deserves all the praise it gets, and you should be extremely proud of what you’ve accomplished. Even if the Third Arc wasn’t finished or the Fourth started, it was still a helluva ride, one that I’m so glad I got to participate in.

But, of course, you asked for feedback, so I can’t spend the entirety of this post throwing roses at your feet. So, onto the constructive feedback.

I think a lot of my thoughts are going to echo what other people have previously said, but for me, the biggest setbacks in the Redux were the following:

[1] Pacing. This is going to sound weird, but this isn’t a criticism of the Redux’s length. Rather, it’s more about how that time was spent. While I really like how you adjusted aspects of the Redux’s plot in order to still tangentially align with the books’, it sometimes felt like the chapters were there just to connect points A and B. I knew this was a retelling of the original series, so I already had a vague idea of what the general storybeats would be. What appealed to me was how the story would get to those points. Let me give you an example: in Arc 1, we’re told in chapter 10 that Murkpelt is roaming the territories, and poses a threat to the Clans. Immediately in chapter 11 we’re taken to the scene where Firepaw finds her while escorting Spottedleaf. We’re told about ThunderClan’s efforts to track her prior, and about the looming tension in the wake of this invisible threat. But that’s the thing - we’re told that by the narration in just a paragraph or two. We’re not shown what that looks like. The setup is supposed to be everyone being on edge, but Bluestar’s lounging by the stump when the scene begins. It’s a little dissonant, and it has the unfortunate problem of contradicting the narration. It would’ve been so cool to see a chapter or two where Firepaw’s still trying to immerse himself into Clan life, and his questions are met with terse answers or impatience. Undercut his (and the reader’s) learning with other characters being brusque with him, or short-tempered, or something. And then that could lead into Greypaw or Ravenpaw consoling him and explaining why the situation is so serious. Then Firepaw could ask something like, “Have there ever been instances like this before with rogues?” Which could organically lead to a conversation where Greypaw or Ravenpaw bring up relevant lore/worldbuilding. It’s little stuff like that which would’ve helped with immersion and pacing. I think it would have balanced the two out, by providing pseudo-downtime where the audience experiences the world as the characters do. (If that makes sense.) Or, to provide another example: we never get to see Tres Idiots mentoring Snowpaw. In chapters 5 and 6 of Arc 3, we see Raventhroat struggling to develop a signing system he can use with his apprentice; and then, after a few chapters he’s perfectly narrating the Bright-Eyed Crow to Snowpaw. I think that showing us scenes where the two were actually working out the kinks would have done more to develop Raventhroat’s character arc. He went from being a meek, timid apprentice to an eloquent warrior, and him becoming a mentor is supposed to be a definite part of that journey. It would’ve have been so cool to have plot-relevant scenes broken up by smaller ones where we watch Raventhroat gain confidence through each small success he makes with his apprentice. I’m not sure if I’m conveying exactly what I want to say, but I guess the TL;DR would be something like - I would’ve gladly welcomed either more chapters, or longer ones, if it meant we got more scenes like this.

[2] Utilization of the worldbuilding. You mentioned this already in response to another ask, but if you could go back and change anything, it would be incorporating more lore/adhering the Redux to its lore more strongly. Your worldbuilding is perhaps the strongest part of the Redux by far. You gave us a conlang, traditions, folk stories, Clan stereotypes - so much fascinating material - but it feels like its integration was based solely on whether or not it was relevant to the plot at hand. Unless there was a reason why it was brought up, then we’d never get to see a ThunderClan cat freaking out near a ShadowClan seer and refusing to approach them at a Gathering. Or listen to Mistfoot share a poem with Greystripe and Fireheart (after being goaded into it by Silverstream). Or watch as Redtail politely interrupts the elders and asks for their opinion on an important matter. Or listen to the Clan getting together after a loved one dies and share stories about their life. Or watch as Sandpaw/Dustpaw use their age and seniority over Firepaw to terrorize him with stories of Yrrun and Terror. On one hand, I absolutely understand why a lot of lore was relegated exclusively to the Amendment section - it’s important to strike a balance between what’s interesting versus what’s relevant. You don’t wanna just throw worldbuilding trivia at the audience apropos of nothing. On the other hand, I really wish I’d seen a much larger integration of your worldbuilding into the story, because it’s so fascinating and so god damn good.

[3] Utilization of the characters. One of the things you tweaked, that I absolutely loved, was choosing to introduce Silverpaw in Arc 1 at a Gathering. Not only does it create a realistic basis for her friendship with Tres Idiots, but it fixes the canon’s issue of her saving Greystripe out of nowhere and then developing a relationship on that alone. That was fucking great! Same thing with Rainpath - it was so awesome for Fireheart to get a friend in another Clan (ShadowClan, of all Clans). It broke the mold, and their interactions were just delightful. But outside of those examples, sometimes it kinda felt like the side characters didn’t really exist? I remember an old piece of writing advice, but I can’t recall who it’s attributed to: “Treat your side characters like they think they’re the main characters.” Because they absolutely are. I might be some passing stranger in another person’s life, barely a blip on their radar, but I have my own vibrant story. Everyone does. In the Redux, it sometimes felt like minor or side characters weren’t living their own lives outside of their interactions with Fireheart and his friends. Mousefur’s the most fluent speaker of Fang in ThunderClan? Cool. How did she learn that skill? Who taught her? Does she have a friend in WindClan who’s been teaching her new words at Gatherings, or whenever they happen to cross paths while on border patrols near Four Trees? Not only is that character trivia interesting, but it could provide foreshadowing/become relevant later on. When the Clans meet to discuss how to deal with the dogs in Arc 3, perhaps someone suggests having their most fluent Fang speakers act as interpreters/diplomats, and try to broker some sort of peace/understanding with the dogs. Things like that. Basically, it would’ve been nice if Fireheart’s life intersected more with the goings-on of his Clanmates, or if his own goals/agenda were sometimes inconvenienced by the goals/agenda of others.

I think those are my major criticisms. More integration of lore, a slower/steadier pace that accommodates showing over telling, and finding ways to have the personal lives of minor characters interact with the story. Maybe adding in some additional subplots that are congruent with the main plots, and occur simultaneously, in order to keep chapters busy. That sort of thing. I hope what I provided wasn’t overwhelming in any way, and ends up being useful for either the Redux or any of your other writing projects.

As an aside, thank you. For creating this humble niche community within an even larger fandom. For asking for feedback from your readers. For being someone who makes mistakes, but eventually endeavors to learn from them, and ultimately, become a better person. I know this sounds kinda sappy, but I really do mean it. <3

(For the record I wrote this at like five in the morning, so if there are any grammatical errors I’ll be kicking myself in the ass for those.)

#silvokrent #submission #i speak #kind of #textwall #readmore

[xxfanfiction-emo-trinityxx]

Ripped Jeans and Greasy Hair (Part Three) - Gerard Way x Reader

Request: Hi, your blog is awensome. Can you do part 3 of Ripped Jeans and Greasy Hair? It's one of my favourite. And maybe this time with more Patrick and Joe and other MCR members? Word count: 2 371 A/N: I want to apply to a semester at another university (if I get into my first choice, I’ll be so fucking happy), and I just wrote the application, and my mum suggested I also tell them I write fanfiction. So now there’s deadass “Writing shortstories for readers online” in that fucking document. Holy shit. Dear person who decides on this matter, don’t ask me irl about this unless you’re the prof who used fanfiction to talk about genres (I’m willing to bet five bucks he’s written fanfic (probably for Buffy) himself). Also: the beginning of this story is weird, but I had it in my head and it made me laugh so… yeah.

“When I told you-“

“When you told me-“

“No, when I told you…”

“Yes?”

“What did I tell you?”

“Exactly! You didn’t tell me shit!”

“Oh fuck!”

You laughed hard at Joe’s reaction, when he realised he had forgotten to check in with you for the birthday party he had started planning for Patrick. He had started organising stuff, but doing it for such a huge party alone was a lot of work, so he had walked up to you at your locker to complain about you not helping. Only that he had not told you anything, and you had assumed the birthday party for Patrick would be a small one, like the last years; just his closest friends, some cake and star Wars.

“Okay, calm down, so what do you have so far,” you offered, while searching through your locker for your math book.

“Um, my neighbour works at this sorta venue thing, and somehow he can give the whole room to us for the entire evening, and he said if he can come to we don’t even have to pay anything, so there’s that-“

“Which venue?” Your eyes widened when Joe told you. That hall was certainly big enough for a party with a hundred people. “Dude, what do you have planned?”

“Trouble in paradise,” a familiar voice mocked, and a moment later an arm, dressed in smooth leather, got wrapped around your shoulder.

“Joe organised The Night Hall for Patrick’s birthday,” you explained, turning your head to give Gerard a quick kiss on the cheek, which made him blush.

You had no idea why, but even after several months of dating and kissing, he still blushed when you surprised him with an affectionate gesture. But then again it was no different the other way around.

“Oh, big party then,” Gerard nodded, a grin spreading over his face, “I’m in!”

“Sure you are,” you laughed, and slammed the locker shut, “the other question is whether Patrick is in.”

“Sure I’m in,” Patrick’s cheerful voice surprised you from behind, “in on what?”

“Lunch, dude,” Joe quickly made up, “I saw there’s potatoes on the menu today, and we thought we don’t want to poison ourselves, so the plan is to go for pizza.”

Patrick nodded enthusiastically, and adjusted his trucker hat.

“If it’s pizza I’m double in,” he announced, making everyone laugh, and together you walked to class.

You had to admit, since you had gotten together with Gerard, a lot of things had changed. Your former group of three had extended, and now that you and your friends also hung out with Gerard, you had gotten to know his brother, and his best friend Ray. The six of you often spent hours talking about movies or playing your favourite records, sometimes you went out to a concert or spent an entire evening cooking a meal with several courses.

Before Gerard had saved you from your bullies that one Friday, you had often spent time with Patrick and Joe, and you had always felt like you were friends. But now, you spent even more time together, which was weird because you had assumed, you would have to split up the time between your friends and your boyfriend. Luckily it turned out that Gerard got along with the two perfectly, and after hanging out with them, Ray, and Mikey, he often came over to your place, or you to his, and you spent the late hours of the evening hanging out. All in all it did not only feel like you had made more friends, but as if you had grown closer to ones you had already had.

It turned out that it was a lot more difficult to help Joe organise Patrick’s party than you had imagined. Because you were spending almost all the time together, you had to find little moments in between, when Patrick was out of the room, to talk about what you still had to discuss. And just in time for his birthday you had finally arranged everything. Joe had invited a few people from outside of school, mostly musicians he and Patrick knew from the local scene, there were some classmates, a couple of friends from Patrick’s old school, and all the people these guests would bring along. Luckily the hall would not be full with all of these people, otherwise catering, which had been your task, would have been hell to organise. This way you had found a bakery that had offered a good price for small backed goods and sandwiches, and Joe had told people to bring drinks themselves.

The most complicated thing was to keep Patrick unsuspecting, until you had him standing in front of the entrance of the hall. The entire day you had pretended to have nothing planned, and you had even started to panic mildly, when Patrick had told you that his parents were planning on going out for dinner with him, but Joe had luckily managed to have them go out before the party started.

It was needless to say that Patrick was slightly overwhelmed by the effort Joe and you had put into the party, but luckily he agreed to go in none the less, something you had been worried about the entire time. You knew Patrick easily got anxious about big events, and especially when he was the centre of attention. But now he seemed happy and faltered as all the guests cheered when he entered the hall. Soon you left the birthday boy’s side, and found Gerard, who was haning out at the buffet (where else?), together with Mikey and Ray.

“So, he actually came,” Gerard joked, wrapping his arm around your waist, as if it was the most natural thing on earth,

“He did,” you laughed, and linked your thumb into his back pocket, “he was actually happy.”

“Told you he would be,” Ray grinned.

“Yeah, yeah,” you giggled, “you were right, we know.”

Ray rolled his eyes playfully at your mocking, and grabbed another sandwich.

“So-,” Mikey looked between you, his brother and Ray, “what’s the plan for the rest of the evening?”

“I dunno,” you shrugged, “what do people do at parties, other than eating all the snacks?”

Underlining your comment you grabbed a breadstick, and started munching on it.

“Dancing, I suppose,” Gerard suggested, and nodded to the group of people who had already started moving to the music in the middle of the big room.

“Let’s be honest here, we all suck at dancing,” the comment came from Joe, who had snuck up from behind, surprising you. He was followed by Patrick and a guy with deep brown eyes, and dark hair.  You recognised him from one of the concerts you had been at with the guys. What was his name again, Pete?

“Then let’s dance all together, so we don’t look so stupid on our own,” Gerard shrugged, stealing the half eaten breadstick from your hand, causing you to gasped in fake shock.

“That’s a sight nobody wants to see,” Patrick laughed, but just like the others he seemed not quite as reluctant as you about the suggestion.

“You just gotta pretend you know what you’re doing,” the guy behind Joe explained, “then nobody will care.”

The group slowly moved into the direction of the improvised dance floor, in the middle of the room. If you were being honest, you had never been good at or a fan of dancing, and it surprised you the others were so keen on it; that was until you saw what they understood under dancing. It was as if all of them had silently agreed that their attempts at trying to be sexy (or whatever people were doing on the dance floor) would end in absolute embarrassment. They all were jumping around to the upbeat music, reminding you of the concerts you went to sometimes.

Gerard grabbed your hand and spun you around a couple of times, until he caught you in his arms. You giggled, feeling a suspicious burning in your cheeks as a blush worked itself onto your face. Even with the upbeat music around you, Gerard swayed slowly to the music, holding you close, not caring about the chaos of your friends jumping around you.

Smiling softly you reached up to his face, and brushed a strand of his black hair out of his eyes, making him smile as well. As if the playlist Joe had created for tonight had known how much you wanted to dance slowly with your boyfriend, the next song that came on was a slower one. You felt how Gerard let go of your waist where he had placed his hand, and instead wrapped it around your back, pulling you into him, his other hand gently holding yours. It never ceased to amaze you how different his hands were to yours; his hands elegant, but calloused, so carefully taking hold of yours, while you felt rather clumsy using your own. If he had ever noticed, he had never mentioned it. Now his warm, dry fingers closed around yours; sometimes moving slightly, brushing over the back of your hand. Your other hand, like a reflex, found its place on the back of his neck. Slowly, playfully, you wrapped strands of his dark hair around your fingers, and you grinned when you remembered how intimidated you had been by him in the beginning, you had been outright scared.

“What?”

You could hear the insecure smile in Gerard’s voice, and looked up from the button with the band logo he was wearing on his shirt.

“Nothing, just…” you took a long look at him.

It was weird. He had come across as so confident and careless the first times you had met him, and even when you had gotten together, you had sometimes wondered where he took all that confidence from. But the better you had gotten to know him, the more you had realised that, just like Pete had said, he was faking it and nobody doubted he was in it for real. It had been a slow realisation that had started just a couple of days after your trip to the beach. It felt like a wall had started to break down, a wall he had already kept thin around you, but the more he started to trust you, the more he fell for you (and you could feel him falling for you more and more each day, just like you fell for him), the more he broke down that wall, revealing the same doubts and insecurities that you did not know how to hide.

You knew he was scared you did not love him. You knew he was worried you would realise one day that you deserved more than the school punk. He did not want you to feel that way, but he was scared of it anyway. You knew because he had told you, just the other week. In the beginning you had been hurt, thinking you were not good enough at expressing your emotions for him, which were as strong as they had never been for anyone, and since it had been a late Saturday night, and you were already talking, you had immediately shared that thought with him. Which in turn had made him worry again. But in the end you had come to the conclusion to just try to stop doubting your own self-worth, and to be honest with each other, and now that you remembered how insecure you had been about him, and he had asked, you decided to share it with him.

“I just remembered how scared I was by you in the beginning,” you confessed, gently brushing over his neck, and weaving your fingers into his hair.

“Scared,” Gerard echoed, a surprised look on his face.

“Yeah, you were pretty intimidating, with your leather jacket, and the ripped jeans, and your black hair,” you giggled, gently tucking on said hair.

“You think ripped jeans are intimidating,” the insecure smile on Gerard’s lips turned into an adoring, yet amused one.

“Nah, just you in general, always getting in trouble, never smiling…”

“I do smile,” Gerard protested.

“You didn’t smile at school,” you corrected, “I’d like to think that changed.”

Gerard furrowed his brows.

“Oh my god, I was like Mikey,” he realised, making you laugh.

Indeed the younger Way seemed less expressive, but when you turned your head, you found him goofing around with Patrick and Pete by the side of the buffet, accompanied by a young boy you knew was from New Jersey, and had just moved here recently.

“Ah, look at him now, he can smile too,” you joked, and nodded to the four boys.

“Seems like it,” Gerard agreed, “I think smiling suits him.”

“Happiness suits everybody,” you reminded him, “oh, and I was really uncomfortable when I found out you knew where I lived.”

“When I brought your book over,” Gerard remembered, “yeah, you looked uncomfortable. And I was so embarrassed when you didn’t know we were neighbours!”

“Trust me, I was probably more embarrassed,” you grinned.

“Oh were you now,” he giggled, and brushed his nose against yours.

You just hummed in response and kissed him, relishing the familiar smell and taste of his soft lips.

“Get a room you too,” Joe shouted. The people around you laughed, but Gerard just let go of your hand, and flipped him off without breaking the kiss, making you smile.

You spent the rest of the evening joking around, and dancing with your friends. Pete introduced the boy from New Jersey as Frank, and all eight of you, Pete, Patrick, Joe, Mikey, Ray, Frank, Gerard and you, made absolute fools of yourselves jumping around to the music, but it was fun and you did not want it any other way. Sometimes all of you were dancing together as a group, Patrick tried to dance a waltz with you to a rock song, which worked surprisingly well, Joe spun you around until you were so dizzy you had to sit down for a couple of minutes, and all the time you knew Gerard was watching you with the same love-struck glimmer in his eyes as you were watching him.

Taglist (if you want to be added or taken off, please let me know):

General: @justawriterinprogress @robinruns @jayloverthe3rd @lookalivefrosty @butterfly-writes @angelevansfalls @rene-royale @500240

MCR: @deadlovers

#gerard way x reader #gerard way fluff #gerard way x reader fluff #gerard way imagine #punk!gerard #high school #high school au #fanfiction #gerard way fanfiction #fanfic #my chemical romance #my chemical romance imagines #my chemical romance imagine #my chemical romance fanfiction #fall out boy imagine #fall out boy fanfiction

[random-mha-thoughts]

900 of yall...

I’ve been wanting to post this this yesterday but your girl had schoolwork and stuff.  THANK YOU GUYS SO MUCH I’M SO HONORED 💜💖

I still don’t get why you’re here, but I appreciate all the follows even though I’m not as active on this blog as I want to be, I’m so overwhelmed with the amount of work I have for online classes now, I really wish I can spend more time writing.  Ahhhh if I can hug all of you I would so please accept my virtual hugs and love!

This milestone, I’m shouting out @pink-imagines​!  She’s one of the first BNHA writers I started following but I haven’t given enough love to lately, but I recently read Spice it up and I really enjoyed it and I realized that Nana needs a little more love and attention because she deserves it for all her great work :3

In the meantime!  I have 2 requests lined up for today and tomorrow, you’re getting Bakugou fluff in a few hours and tomorrow you’re getting a Bakugou headcanon that’s a continuation of a headcanon I did recently, so look forward to it!

Thank you guys so much again, I really feel so grateful for you taking time out to read even one of my posts, it means a lot to me.  I love you all 💖  I hope you’re all doing well in these difficult times.  Please take care of yourselves, eat well, sleep well, take breaks, talk to people every once in a while, watch some good anime, treat yourself, BREATHE, practice self care, do anything and everything you want to make yourself feel better, you wanna know why?  Because you deserve it, you’re wonderful, and you’re doing great 😊

Holy shit I need to start prepping a 1k follower special event don’t I? What do I dooooo, how does one Tumblr T_T

I’ll see you guys with a new post soon~

~Chibi

#follower milestone #900 followers #author recs

[adzandiel-blog]

Hello, Tumblr.

I’m going to start this off with some radical honesty.

I don't know what we’re doing here, 'here' being some hastily whipped up site on the Internet. Aden suggested that we start to keep a 'blog', which I do know the meaning of, but I don't get the PURPOSE of. Anyway, who's he to tell us what to do with modern technology? He's the guy who couldn't figure out how cellphones work. How does he know about blogs anyway? Angels and their cryptic-ness. But alright. I guess a blog might be fun in some way, especially for us.1

But how the Holy Hell do we start one of these, anyway? It's ridiculous. What, do I introduce myself? Tell everyone a few fun facts about my personality? I'd rather get flung face-first into a pit of boiling sulfur. Again.2

Oh, fine. Aden wants me to at least say something about myself, or else why would anyone stick around?‌ What do I say—hi, nice to meet you, I’m not human, but I’ve lived here for five millennium alongside my righteous seraphic best friend? I think that covers all my basics, yeah.

I need a name here, huh?‌‌ Let me think. Zan.

Zan works. It’s short for something in the way that ‘May’ is short for ‘mayonnaise’.

No, Aden, I‌ don’t suppose they need to know how old‌ I am. I‌ did kind of tell them, though, but it’s only a rough estimate.3

Oh. Gender?‌ Seriously?‌ Is that really necessary?

Shit, fine. The answer to that question is, very simply, no.‌ Not really.4

Oh, yeah, but I‌ referred to Aden as ‘he’? It’s just the shape and form of his body that looks that way, and he doesn’t exactly mind—any more than he’d mind if I‌ started using different pronouns for him, her, them—so no harm’s done there.

Anyway, the way I‌ see it is that we’re currently here, writing a blog post (or, well, I’m writing the blog post while Aden hovers over my shoulder and points out inaccuracies), because we’ve got nothing to do. I run a coffee shop, sure, and Aden spends the typical working hours in his studio, but overall, it’s getting dull.

At least I don’t have Abaddon5 crawling up my ass 24/7 nowadays. And Aden hasn’t got Remiel6 down his throat now. It’s a pleasant break, if you count living in constant wariness of both Heaven and Hell as a break. Which we do.7

Consider this our debut for the modern age.

(Aden, I’m telling you, this is even stupider than the time you thought ‘Um, modern?’ was the answer to ‘Which way do you dress?’!)

Not because we’re somehow miraculously capable of becoming Internet famous, or at least, not that I’m aware of. We’ve just been told we’re high in entertainment value. After all, we do have a few millennium’s worth of stories to share. ↩︎

It wasn’t enjoyable the first time, but in my personal opinion, it’s somewhat preferable to opening up. Aden can’t make that connection nor the metaphor, since he hasn’t that first-hand experience. ↩︎

Our precise ages are, respectively, 5304 and 5310 years old.‌ We’re not telling you who’s which. ↩︎

‌ This is because of the fact that we aren’t beings who need things like genders. What’s between our legs, you ask?‌ Infernal wickedness and celestial righteousness. ↩︎

One of the demon princes of Hell, commander of locusts, general pain in the ass. ↩︎

An Archangel of Hope, guides souls into Heaven, Aden’s manager in Above’s Head Office, also a pain in the ass but at least he’s quite holy about it. ↩︎

Because this, compared to the 14th century?‌ A total breeze. It might just be me, but I’d take an extra look tossed over my shoulder any day over mountains of plague-ridden corpses piling up in the morgues. And hospitals. And streets. And schools. And homes. And front doors. I might be a demon, but I have living standards that include not tripping over three corpses before lunch. ↩︎

#tags. tags? right. tags. #humor #storytelling #right? #would it be bad if we tagged this as religion #historical humor

[corpus-chorus]

A dev’s insight to tumblr’s updates

Alright guys. I’m sorry to make this long-ass discourse post when I’d really much rather just be doing my art reblogs and basking in my warm community, but I feel this needs to happen, because a lot of you may not be aware of what goes into updates like this.

To be clear - I’m not making any comment about the color change itself. It doesn’t actually bother me, seems kind of silly to flip a lid about when there’s plenty of extensions to fix it if you don’t like it, but I get the annoyance of having something familiar change into something that makes you uncomfortable, especially with no warning.

But then I started to see a bunch of rants on how shitty this update is when there were so many bugs that needed to be fixed instead, and I just need to take a moment to address app development in general, because y’all seem fairly misinformed about the whole thing.

So let’s get one thing straight - bug fixing is not easy.

Yeah, that sounds like a copout, doesn’t it?

But let’s talk about how bug fixing works, alright? Because there’s a couple of things we gotta look at when considering changes like this.

How much code is needed to fix the bug? Yeah, this one’s pretty straight forward, right? How many lines of code do the devs have to write to fix whatever’s broken? Except you’re forgetting the time it takes to find the bug in the first place. And this isn’t about popping into one file and looking through the lines until you see what’s broken. Bugs aren’t just typos. Bugs are NOT easy to find. Generally, if I’m working on a bug, and it takes me 4 days to fix, 3 of those days were probably spent just defining exactly where the bug came from and the places it exists. And that’s with me being super familiar with the codebase. If I didn’t already know that the core value displayed on the groupings page was coming from the hciReplacements inspector (out of 30-some inspectors), which is pulling data from the hagi, which is pulling and calculating data from the clip model, of which I know the exact layout, it probably would have taken me double or triple that time. And now, on top of that, what if the bug is an extreme edge case no one thought about when they built the core code? I might have to rewrite the entire functionality of the thing that pulls all that data, and holy hot hell is that gonna take some time.

How much QA effort is required? Contrary to popular belief, no, developers don’t just make bug fixes and immediately push them out to the app. It’s gotta be tested, usually by some sort of QA/QC team. And, fun fact, QA can take longer than the development did. Because the QA team is looking for EVERY POSSIBLE USE CASE of the exact thing you’re working on. Every single possible way a user might interact with that. That takes a skilled worker to think of all of those possible use cases (and spoiler alert, they’re human, so they still fuck up sometimes), and it takes them time to find them all.

But ON TOP of that, you also have a LOT of unexpected consequences to code changes. Maybe you just needed to update to cores count so that it’s the total cores on a node instead of total cores per processor, but you didn’t realize that another part of the code was assuming that value was cores per processor, and congrats, you’ve screwed the values all through the rest of the app.

And that’s just a data example. You can make critical errors if, say, you rename a value, and miss one of the places that value’s used, so now that value doesn’t exist in that specific scenario, and congratulations, you’ve actually caused your app to crash if the user follows a specific series of actions, and oops, looks like that set of actions wasn’t one QA thought of, so now users get to find it instead. You were just trying to fix a little data bug, and you’ve now broken the entire app. Good job.

How old is the codebase? Why is this important, you ask? Well, if you’re not in the industry, you may have never been introduced to the idea of “legacy code”. Legacy code is, to over-simplify, old code. It’s code that’s been around for a while. It’s code that dozens of people have had their hands in and is therefor a bit of a mess, no matter how hard you try to keep it clean, or how well organized your team is. Because maybe Eric built that one file really well to start with, and Suzy made some great additions to it, and Tom just made a few bug fixes, but he names variables a little differently, so Jason didn’t realize that the function he needed already existed when he went to build it a few months down the line, so now there’s two versions of the same thing, one used in one place, one used in another, and when Meredith goes to fix a bug related to it, she doesn’t realize she has to fix it both places, and wow, that is a bit of a mess, isn’t it?

The codebase I’m working in currently is about a year and a half old now, maybe a little more. When our first version was released, our codebase was 51,714 lines of code long. As of today, it is 357,932 lines long. With new features on the horizon, it will continue to grow, and the web of dependencies tangled through the codebase will get bigger and more complex. This is just a fact.

So keep in mind that that’s an app that’s about 1.5 years old. Tumblr was launched in, what, 2007 or something? That’s 11 years. 11 fucking years of coding, of dozens, if not hundreds, of people contributing to the codebase, in their own coding style, with their own knowledge levels. This is like if a team of 100 writers was working on a fic series for 11 years, and they didn’t all get to work together, and not everyone took notes. You’re gonna have plot holes. You’re gonna have inconsistencies. Shit’s gonna be messy.

And then there’s the pinnacle question. 

How much do the devs care? How much you wanna bet a lot of the devs on this site started out with a genuine passion for it? How many do you think worked long past the hours they were getting paid for just to make sure they were making something they could be proud of? How excited do you think it used to make them to release new features, and get to see it make people’s lives better?

When you care about a project, you think beyond the exact task you were given. You think about the impact every line of code you write is going to have. on the users. Because you want the users to enjoy the app. You want them to be happy with it. You want all the work you put into it to mean something.

When you care, you make less bugs. When you care, you don’t get lazy and just make temporary fixes. When you care, you put your heart and soul into your work.

How much heart and soul do you think the Tumblr devs want to put into this site at this point? When every single update, every single effort they put in, is met with criticism and hatred? When they’re told that nothing they do is ever good enough? How much do you think the devs care about getting everything perfect and on time and working themselves to tears on this site when they know damn well that the second they release an update, it’s going to be met with nothing but hatred and ignorant people treating them as if their hundred of hours of effort were stupid?

If I was a dev for this site, I’d hate my fucking job.

So let’s review. When you ask for bug fixes, I promise, there is someone on that team very concerned about addressing that bug fix. When you complain that tags are borked, or searching is shit, or whatever you get frustrated with that day, I promise, some dev is already working their tits off trying to find exactly what it’s going to take to fix that for you.

But understand that, that ask? That ask that might seem super simple and straight-forward to you from your comfortable couch? But it might take a team of devs working ungodly hours for months to be able to do. It might carry risks as high as accidentally deleting posts or banning blogs or breaking the entire bloody site. So they wanna spend some time and get that shit right so that you’re not stuck with something even worse than the bug they were fixing.

The people working on these bug fixes are human beings. We seem to remember that about everyone else in the goddamn world, but not the people who work tirelessly to give us the very site that we’re having these conversations on right now.

This update? Yeah, it might seem trivial to you. It might seem like they’re “wasting their time” with “stupid bullshit” when they could be fixing bugs.

But let me make it very clear. They’re trying to fix the bugs. They’re trying to stop the porn bots (and oh, fucking boy, I could make an entire post just about how insanely difficult that is, because some of you people seem to think the devs are fucking GODS or something). And maybe this update is stupid to you, but I can tell you right now, having this update right here is not the reason these things are not going to be fixed tomorrow. This is the frontend team making an aesthetic change - I promise it didn’t stop the backend team from their tireless work to fix the tags.

so tl;dr Fixing Tumblr’s bugs is not some simple, do-it-in-a-month, just-get-more-devs fix. And tearing into this release is doing nothing but reminding the probably very tired dev team that their work means absolutely dick to a large portion of ungrateful fucks on this site.

Complain about bugs. Tell Tumblr about their bugs. Make sure they know. And then sit the fuck down and wait - they’re fucking trying.

#i'm sorry #i know this is so long and obnoxious #please ignore it if you don't care #i just needed to get this shit off my chest #hopefully it's informative to some people #tumblr #tumblr update #tumblr discourse #tumblr blue #tumblr staff #long post #discourse

[murdocsagaypirate]

The Fall of 2D

A Character Essay

So.. this ended up being a nice long read.. but.. I think some of y’all might enjoy it. I just kind of got carried away. But I’m done~ Back to fanfiction~  I’ve done more thorough analyses of most of these songs that I touch on here in the past. If you go to my blog and type in the songs name in search you’ll find it ... unless I haven’t done it yet... and in that case go ahead and request it if you like.

Remember when you were a little kid and you would look at the clouds in the sky as the sunlight bounced off them? And something that simple would make you feel a part of everything, and all alone at the same time. And the feeling’s not something you can ever put into words, so you spend your whole life chasing it. Making music, taking pictures, painting, whatever. In the hope that other people will understand that sense or… feeling. As creative entities, we look for signs of life outside ourselves for a connection to alleviate the sense of solitude. That’s why we all do what we do. Whether we know it ourselves or not.

Phase 1: Someone Else’s Dream

2D never dreamed he’d be famous, or even successful, in any capacity. No one ever treated him like he possibly could be because he was disabled. He had chronic pain and hindered cognitive ability from childhood that shaped how others perceived him. His bright blue hair growing out of his damaged head made it so that everyone knew he was different- he was stupid. And that perception shaped him. It shaped him into someone with no big dreams, someone that tolerated being bullied, someone with poor self-efficacy and no sense of independence or developed sense of identity. He liked films and he liked music and it didn’t go much deeper than that. Not because he was stupid and shallow, as he’s clearly always been a very deep and creative thinker, but because no one ever gave him the options and opportunity to pursue something bigger. He says in the phase 5 football interview, “My mum and dad taught me not to aim too high.” No one ever believed in him.... 

Until Murdoc came along. 2D’s blue hair is directly associated to the event that handicapped him but to Murdoc it represented anything but a handicap- it gave 2D the unique looks that would make him a priceless asset in Murdoc’s pursuit of his personal dreams. For the first time in his life, Murdoc made 2D believe he was capable and valuable because he was talented and attractive. 2D didn’t need to be worshiped like Murdoc, he just needed to be worth something, and Murdoc gave him a way to do that. That’s what 2D means when he says that Murdoc “saved his life”, that’s a big reason WHY he idolized him in addition to the fact that 2D appreciates that Murdoc is genuinely talented and driven. 

I can’t impress this enough: 2D was only 19 years old. Old enough to know you’re expected to be an adult, to make something of yourself, but for many still not old enough to be one - especially for someone that grew up disabled, whose independence wasn’t fostered ... Make no mistake: 2D was vulnerable and Murdoc, who was 31, took advantage of him. This is a 2D analysis so I’m not going to go into why Murdoc did this, but at the end of the day, Murdoc was a fucking shitty shitty person and there no good excuse. 

Already by the time the first album came out, 2D had already figured out he’d been taken advantage of. That’s what New Genius (Brother) is about. It’s about Murdoc and the promises he made him about the path to success he was going to take him on, about the river they were going to ford together and how 2D felt betrayed. 

Besides what we learn in RoTO, there are some songs that you can’t totally parse out what lyrics on Gorillaz debut album belong to 2D and which belong to Murdoc besides simply what makes sense. It’s interesting though you can easily argue that there are shared sentiments in songs like Slow Country about working hard to succeed and being lonely. In RoTO a lyric for this song is included, “City life, leave my soul in deep water.” which mirror’s “The river ain’t deep.” in New Genius (Brother). Sound Check (Gravity) is a song he sang straight from his heart on a rooftop in Jamaica with Noodle, that repeats themes of feeling pressured and betrayed and the theme of a confusing and broken love which will reoccur, over and over. At that time (in Jamaica, no less) that love is actively breaking, not broken yet, but he doesn't know what to do. Latin Simone characterizes his depression and the realization that he’s just not happy on this path he’s started on, but there’s no escaping it now. Then you have a song like 12D3, that very directly characterizes him as a simple person that takes simple pleasure in music. There are various songs and lines on Self-titled that characterize drug dependency both for 2D and for Murdoc. Phase One, overall, sets us up with a picture of a 2D who is still enthusiastic about his future as a musician for no other reason than his passion for music, yet disillusionment is quickly setting in, both toward the lifestyle of fame and his idol and best friend. 

Phase 2: Feel Good?

This is where 2D starts talking about his never-ending quest to “find himself”. 2D never got to gain independence. He went straight from dependency on his parents to dependency on Murdoc, living at his mansion studio and literally letting him tie his shoes. His parents never fostered an ability to self-care or a sense of ambition, so Murdoc gifted him his ambition and without Murdoc, 2D doesn’t have his own sense of identity. 

So, of course, leaving Murdoc after phase 1, he went back to his parents, to work for his dad. He returned to his hometown, to a bunch of people that treated him like a worthless idiot. But now he’s famous. So now he’s surrounded by people that want to validate him... Which he fucking eats up, because it fills the hole left by his upbringing... Not to mention all the very fucking irresponsible sex. There is much that goes unstated about this phase of 2D’s life, it seems he chooses to paint it as wholly positive, yet we know the lasting consequences of it (child support for for several kids for the next 18 years) as well as the fact that he ultimately chose to leave it behind and return to Gorillaz and back into the same lifestyle that he hated and is only getting worse as Gorilaz’s popularity hits it major peak in 2005:

The Feel Good Inc music video give shit tons of insight into the characters and the lyrics. Notably, the way that 2D is placed at the center, on a throne, and how utterly miserable he is on that throne. It’s not JUST the debauchery he struggles with, but the position of stardom and idol worship he’s been thrust into. 

“Take it all in on your stride” run’s parallel to Latin Simone’s “Give up, if you want to survive.” He’s resigned to this path, never exhibited any desire to fight it really, because he’s never known another path. Without Gorillaz, he’s aimless. “Turn forever, hand in hand... It is ticking, falling down. Love forever, love has freely turned forever you and me. Windmill, windmill for the land. Is everybody in?” The windmill represents freedom, Noodle’s freedom contrasted with 2D’s imprisonment specifically, yet here he sings about it “falling”, foreshadowing El Manana. He talks about the utter destruction of hope happening to all of them. “Is everybody in?” 

Remember the theme of a “breaking love” I’d say would be returning over and over? 2D is trapped in the tower with Murdoc who watches him like some kind of predator throughout the video. Russel is there too, which characterizes him as lacking the freedom that Noodle has but coping through staying focused on drumming, making music. This person that 2D is turning with forever, falling, hand in hand is mainly Murdoc. 

While much of this album was written by Noodle, 2D has specifically talked about writing chorus of Feel Good Inc. And there are other songs on the album I’ll touch on that, although lore never specifically states, I can only assume are written by 2D by how well they fit into his character arc at this point in his life and make no sense in characterizing Noodle.  

O Green World continues with the themes of Feel Good Inc with the line “Hope, sex and drugs will rust into myself holy. It feels holy,” further characterizing the disturbing dichotomy of pleasurable addiction as a destructive force. Placing “hope” on the list of things that 2D clings to for comfort that destroy him is heartbreaking and we’ll watch how this “hope” becomes more and more painful to hold onto throughout the years. The larger focus of O Green World is the narrative about a failing relationship: the current state of his relationship with Murdoc. A desperation and confusion over a crumbling relationship is also explored in Every Planet We Reach is Dead. Lines like “For all the sacred selfless days, only left with heartache. I want to see you again. I love you... But what are we going to do?” paints the same picture 2D will eventually paint for us again in The Now Now. He will look back on this era of their relationship where he clung to hope that they’d be close, happy and healthy again. And yet... we know how that turned out...

Phase 3: Alone Together

I only really joined the band to make music, and now, I'm being held captive by a bastard bass player in an underwater submarine, being attacked by sodding pirates who are trying to take over this rotten piece of broken plastic in the ocean that Gorillaz call 'home'. All this, just to make a video. It's making me want to die!

So... this is a major phase for 2D, but of course, that fact is often overshadowed but what a big deal it was Murdoc. We have hours of podcast and a whole album to witness Murdoc’s deterioration and precious little to witness 2D’s, though there is certainly enough to analyze especially later in the phase. 

2D doesn’t seek attention like Murdoc does. He’s motivated by validation, sure, but not in the practically narcissistic way Murdoc is. 2D isn’t the one that is constantly engaging with fans, soaking up our attention and admiration. He wants to connect to people through music, not as a celebrity, just as a musician. He’s private, and that loss of privacy that comes with fame is probably yet another factor that caused him to hate it.

2D struggles with emotional isolation like Murdoc but in a completely different way. It’s not that he fears and avoids connection and vulnerability like Murdoc, in that quote I started this with he shows that he finds it to be something important and profound. It something he simply finds difficult for many reasons. One, his disability that clearly effects his communication skills. Then the inherent isolation that comes with stardom. And finally, an inability to connect with himself first and foremost, his undeveloped sense of personal identity comes back into play, that theme of struggling to “find himself”.

Little Pink Plastic Bag characterizes the isolating feeling of drifting through life without purpose. 2D has lost control of his life, knowing he was going to school before this phase might indicate he was beginning to find purpose but once again (and in a much more literal sense) he’s forced away from his own dreams to serve Murdoc’s. “What you want in life? Someone here'll gonna get past by” hearkens back to so many themes present in the first album. In New Genius (Brother) he sings, “People passing through me.” 2D still feels overlooked, underappreciated, so many years later. 

2D talks about Revolving Doors: “As I was walking through the doors of the hotel - the revolving doors - and the dislocation of being away, you know, out of sorts, away from home. and the image of this door permanently revolving, the endless repetition and the pointless rhythm of it all I guess struck like, a melancholic image within me. It paints a similar aimless image to pointlessness of plastic bag floating on the highway. Revolving Doors also pretty explicitly references drug use, specifically about buying drugs and getting shorted by the dealer. It’s not news, just notable that substance abuse is still very much present. Another major theme is 2D lamenting how much fame has changed him and his fear of what more is to come which come up again in Amarillo.

Amarillo is such a fucking beautiful song. “I got lost on the highway. But don't ask me where I've been. Or what I've done.” The trials of the last few years have changed 2D, he recognizes this and fills him with regret. And again, he expresses that utter lonely we’re familiar with by now. 

Finally, we have DoYaThing giving us incite at the very tail end of this phase of the state of 2D’s relationship with Murdoc, which has quite obviously suffered but enough time is past that they are ready to start healing again. The line “If you're thinking that I don't know what you're thinking, baby. You do more thinking and I'll go out and make it alright“ expresses a concept 2D explored a few times on Demon Days, “I know you now, I know you know me too.” in O Green World characterizes there relationship as legitimately intimate, they understand each other. This sort of relationship is suggested in interviews too, mostly Murdoc relying on 2D to help handle a crisis, while it doesn’t seem that Murdoc is emotionally equipped to return the favor, yet another way Murdoc contributes to 2D’s chronic loneliness. Despite how much 2D is struggling with at the end of phase 3 he still expends energy worrying about Murdoc. After their live recording of Detroit, 2D responds to Murdoc thanking him, presumably just for the fun of the moment, “I was just glad to help, really.”

DoYaThing expresses this dynamic of expending energy and getting little in return with frustration. Before, 2D was confused and hurt, now he’s angry and impatient. “Every time we try, we get nowhere“... “I've got no patience. Oh, it's all a part of the process. Nothing's new, it's true, cool, I admit. Shit, I guess you're right“ 2D is holding on but growing bitter... 

Phase 4: Gone Gone Gone

It’s obvious in this phase that his drug abuse is at an all-time high. The entire phase, songs, pictures, interviews, portrayed the band as going all out partying, which, of course, involved drugs. Recreational is one thing, but we know it’s more than recreational for 2D. Sleeping Power was the big 2D song of this phase. All the way back to Tomorrow Comes Today’s music video we see 2D’s drug abuse almost being portrayed as a fun aesthetic as brightly colored pain pills fly at the screen and now with Sleeping Power 2D is having a hell of a good time singing about a day he spent “gone”, completely strung out. He starts the video with the old “This is your brain on drugs” ad, which is practically become a joke in modern culture. and it’s an interesting contrast with the extremely emotional way Murdoc writes about his alcoholism in Plastic Beach, or the dark and completely unflattering way it’s portrayed in White Light.

There’s no denying 2D is depressed, but when it comes to his coping methods it seems he copes even further by making it a part of his identity. It’s not difficult to understand why he’d be so inclined to see his addiction as a positive thing, not only does it help his mood but it manages crippling chronic pain. No matter what though, addiction and substance abuse are never sustainable for mental health and 2D has struggled with this issue or a long.. long.. time. 

As for his relationship with Murdoc at this point, it remains in pieces. We see the bitterness 2D feels toward him throughout phase 4. We lose 2D’s voice on Humanz but find so much incite exploring his phase 4 room. Murdoc’s face is plastered on his wall vindictively covered in darts. And yet we find his poems promising, “Yes I am still with you.” and “I will stay. The storm abates. The levy holds.” He’s angry but still refuses to give up. Whether you want to interpret it romantically or not, he clearly still loves Murdoc and we see this even more in The Now Now... 

Phase 5: Reflection

On Plastic Beach, if 2D is trapped on an island of isolation then it’s only because Murdoc is the ship that stranded him there. In Magic City, if 2D is on the moon - shining brightly for everyone to see - it’s because Murdoc was the rocket ship that crash landed him on it. The Now Now is chalk full of callbacks and beautifully shows where 2D has come from and where he is now, especially in his relationship to Murdoc. “You put me up here in the penthouse.” Murdoc is the force that made him successful, the reason he’s famous. "I filled the canyons with my ego” The canyon, the hole in himself. We get a call back all the way to New Genius (Brother) as he changes the effect on the vocal’s to sound like some distance voice from the past of someone promising 2D ease of passage only to betray him by leading him to danger, “Let me take you this far. This crossing isn't much to me. There's lightning in the storm clouds. And I'll send you there to stay” and of course, that voice is Murdoc’s. 

Like he’s been for years, he’s trapped in this lifestyle. Looking all the way back to 5/4. He talks about the same debauchery and spoils of fame he feels trapped back in Feel Good Inc and calls them “magic”. It’s ironic but at the same time addresses the fact that he was promised they would be magic, promised they would feel good, only to feel betrayed when they weren’t. “Magic on me. Really got me down... Magic’s funny. Magic get me through.” The same magic that depressing him, he relies on to get through: drugs, sex, the validation of fame, you name it. It’s a common tale we see for celebrities time and time again. Trapped in this “Magic City”, he wants to make it “home”. He talks about making his journey home in Kansas as well... where exactly does 2D consider “home”? I wonder if even he knows. Our sense of home is so tied to our sense of security and identity, something 2D has always struggled with. On his quest “home”, by the end of the album the thing that he truly returns to.. is Murdoc. In Souk Eye he decides to come back for him... after all this... he’s still willing to give him yet another chance. Throughout the years he’s had one anchor and one anchor alone: Murdoc. So in the absence of this anchor, his sense-of-self changes dramatically as he tries to emulate the man that was once his idol. Of course, we see this play out in the lore... But... at this point (9/28/18) anything I say about 2D actions in this phase beyond the early characterization through the album is just speculation... So, back to the album...

There are few places where 2D talks about how much he’s sacrificed for Murdoc’s sake, how he’s stood by and suffered for him, even made music for him when he really just didn’t want to anymore. Idaho references this and the level of idolization he once felt for Murdoc so long ago, “Playing it all for gods Yesterday/Faraway” and the role of Murdoc in pressuring him, ““Ride on," said the king of cool. you've got nothing to lose“ and how his hope faded through the years, “Silver linings getting lost”. Fireflies again frames Murdoc’s role in driving him, “You were in the kind of game that put the force in me“ and overall speaks to his desperation to hold onto hope throughout the last 20 years. 

The lore supports these songs are about Murdoc in far more obvious ways then has ever been done. Between the Souk Eye visualizer and 2D’s journal, the depths for which he feels for him becomes undeniable. The deterioration we’ve witnessed has caused him so much pain and yet his love remains. “If loving you’s a felony now, then I’m a renegade.” 

2D’s story serves as a tragic retelling of the path that so many real-life famous musicians have taken. Being in the limelight is rarely something normal people are able to cope with, and clearly, 2D is no exception. It changed him, caused him to make decisions he hated. He never would have chosen this lifestyle without Murdoc pressuring him, and returns over and over even when he has the choice to stay away because it’s one of the few solid things he can grasp as part of his identity. Meanwhile, he’s bound to an individual that’s even more unhealthy then he is, enabling his isolation, denying him support, taking advantage of him from day one, manipulating his poor sense of self-worth. All of it crushed his once child-like spirit... only time will tell where he goes from here. Maybe one day he’ll finally see the end of his abuse, heal with the man he’s forgiven too many times, and find security in his own self-worth... 

Now if all that made you too sad here’s a video of 2D being absolutely adorably happy because he has the opportunity to connect with fans through sharing his passion for music. 

#character analysis #2d #i hope you cry

[starkerforlife6969]

This post is me replying to the lovely anons I got! But I didn't wanna spam anyone’s feed so it’s all down below in one mega post! Mwah x PS none of these are prompts, those would always be posted separately ;) so if you’re a prompter, just wait on me honeys i promise ill come through for you soon. 

1) @janetpie1951: “i would kill everyone for sugar baby Peter. With No remorse.” and “Secretary Peter? Absolutely fucking perfect.”

We are the same, my love. Me too. I love that softboi so much i would pull a tony and just break everyone’s leg if they so much as looked at him the wrong way. 

And thank you SO much, I was so scared no one would like the secretary Peter one because I found his character really hard to write as it was so OC, you know? So this put a huge smile on my face :)) x

2) I’m having mild social anxiety just typing this. I wanted to tell you how much I’ve been enjoying your writing. Especially the Mafia boss/sugar baby/bodyguard story line you’ve been posting. I can’t wait for the next part.

I cannot wait for Part 3, at the moment it’s just a few snippets because i need a few more ideas to tie it together, but i promise it’ll be up soon! And my precious thing, well done for typing it anyway!!! I know how you feel, but this made my day so thank you so much sugar xx

3) I wish I was brave enough to share my writing like you do. I'm really scared people will think I'm stupid or that I suck. I'm too shy to share much 🙈 How can someone get over that kind of fear?

Dude, if I could take you back to the first fic I ever wrote- I think it was Dramione? Or H2O, it was seriously just awful like wow oh my god. But the thing was- people were so nice. And dude, it was shit. I promise you, it really was. What i’m saying is- you are your own harshest critic, and that’s super cliche but it’s true. No one will judge your work the way you do. And the feeling when people are nice- oh god, it just- it’s worth the risk. No one is going to think youre stupid or you suck because you had the fucking moxie to create something in the first place. I know it’s hard to take that first leap- I was too young to truly comprehend how scary it was when I did it, but I know you can get there. Sometimes it’s nicest starting in a tiny little fandom because everyone is so supportive and you all know each other and you can build confidence that way- saying that, the starker fandom is by far the most supportive one i’ve ever been in (teen wolf a close second, but there can be some mean anons there who for some reason are obsessed with scott??? like i like him, but let’s chill out, sorry off topic) and there will be haters, but fuck them. I, personally, would read anything you wrote and i would never have anything negative to say. I might be like “dude could you put stuff into paragraphs cuz it’s hard to read a block of text on my phone” but that’s it- that’s the worst thing i would ever say. i’d be too busy being grateful that you’d written some glorious content.

It’s scary, my gorgeous darling, but you can get there. The more fic you read, the more confident you get, and soon you’ll get more confident in YOU. As long as YOU like your writing (which is one of the hardest things ever) it doesn’t matter what anyone else thinks. 

that being said, nothing wrong with shyness. It’s okay to keep it to yourself, sometimes it’s a private thing. Maybe tease us with a few snippets and when we all go insane and beg you for more, maybe then you’ll be encouraged ;) 

4) OML I looooove that you link the other chapters in your series. It's awesome. Keep up the great work! I love your stories ❤️

Dude, thank you!!!! It’s super annoying to do but i always do it because i wish other users did it because it’s so hard scrolling through their whole blog to find a part 2 so thank you so much for appreciating it hahaha it honestly made my day. 

5) Holy FUCK that mafia boss with sugar baby peter is my absolute favorite thing I have ever read in my existence. Thank you so much for writing it and blessing everyone who reads it 💕💕

Yeah you’re just the best and sweetest thing ever. You just are. End of. 

6) I just spent the last several hours going through the starker tag on your blog and hot diggity damn are you good at writing these two.

that is one of the best ways to spend the day and I'm am so honoured you picked mine like ahhhhh i could dance and blush forever, thank you so much. 

7) your mafia tonypetersteve was so good i just!!! I DONT HAVE WORDS it made me so emotional and it was perfect and just uGHhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh thank you for writing it so muchhhhh - { holographic-starker }

dude- dude- dude, you are so lovely. THANK YOU FOR READING IT 

8) Oh wow, your Mafia Boss Tony x Sugar Baby Peter x Bodyguard Steve fic is sooo amazing! 😱❤ The atmosphere, the tension, I can't even say what's my favourite part, everything is just so damn perfect and sexy! ❤❤

oh my god this is a tirade of compliments and I'm honest to god sobbing, seriously dude the fact that you read it and liked it is- it’s the best feeling ever i can’t even describe it to you.  

9) Ummmmmmm excuse me while I die in a corner because of your mafia au 🤤

have i mentioned that i don’t deserve you guys? I honestly don’t. 

10) [this is on the secretary au] THAT TOOK A TURN REAL FAST ((it was so good))

thank you so fucking much honestly i am awed, this was so worth putting off essays to do 

11) @biscuitsonofa  NEED MORE SECRETARY PETER BOSS TONY PLEASE IM D Y I N G OVER HERE I LOVE YOU

oh my god you are so amazing i can’t even just wow. If i ever came up with an idea i’d love to continue it for you, gorgeous. 

12) your a/b/o au with tony/harley/peter was so great!! i would love a part 2❣️

same as above honey in 11, if i ever develop a decent imagination, i definitely will. thank you so much for taking the time to make my whole day. 

13) @pretty-well-funded I binged through Super Size Me at 2am and I am fucking in love with it

Well I’m in love with you, so there. And please don’t hate me over how slack i’ve been with that fic, i started it before i made this side blog and now this sideblog has taken over my whole life but i promise i will get back to it because you guys are so supportive and brilliant and wow 

14) @hoe4parker You're literally one of my favorite writers and I'm currently writing a trans!Peter fic and if you're cool with writing one, you could write one too? I love trans!Peter and new content is always fabulous and I really really love your writing

You are beyond the sweetest thing in the whole world. Just wow. Just thank you. Actually because of this ask i did a bunch of research into how to write trans characters and asked a lot of other users for advice, but i just don’t think i can do it justice at this stage :(( i’ve never done it before and i don’t feel i know quite enough about it. I love reading trans peter fics and i can’t wait for yours, but as for me, i think i need to build up my talent in that area. Who knows, maybe one day? ;) 

15) @starkersbitch Heyyy there! Uh I somehow wanted to tell you that on here rather than on ao3, but I am OBSESSED with your fic "Super Size Me". The characterisation? AMAZING. The smut? I'm living. Your general writing style? Love it. Keep up your good work, love!

yeah i remember getting this, it put the biggest smile on my face ever like just wow thank you so goddamn much. like i said in 13, don’t hate me. I will get back to it gorgeous, i promise!!!! be patient with me, like timberlake says in bad teacher “i think I'm worth the wait” snort goddamn, I'm totally not but you’re a darling and i love you seriously, this encouragement is what makes this fandom the best one ever. 

[lilyy-james]

In honour of today marking 5 years of me being on rp (holy shit where did the time go), I’ve decided to fill in a mun survey! bc I’m fabulous and do what i want.

Describe the worst roleplay you've had. Oh lord, where do I even start. I’ve pretty much seen it all since I started roleplaying in 2014. I can’t think of a worst roleplay overall, but certainly one of the worst experiences had to do with me being rejected to play Sirius in a Marauders rp, just so an admin could have a ship with someone else and they ship Wolfstar (if you know me, you know I find no ship more abhorrent and nauseating than that one. Just gross). Safe to say I was sufficiently irate and probs still am. Oh, and Beth and I have witnessed with our very own two eyes in the tags a master/slave all-male mpreg medieval roleplay. Just, holy guacamole.

Describe the best roleplay you've had. My favourite group experiences are all still the ones I left behind in 2014 and 2015. Cirque Lost, Initiates, Hope Grove, St. James, just to name a few of the groups that I cherished and loved dearly and developed my characters in the best, most intense, and fun ways. Those groups are still the ones that I remember forging the best OOC friendships with as well. You’ll forever find me attempting to recreate that shit 😂

What was the best fandom you roleplayed in? I have never really written in fandoms, per se, but there was a brief time after the end of In the Flesh where I had a big Kieren Walker shaped hole in my heart, and indied in that fandom as Jem Walker. It was neat.

Who is/are your favourite roleplay partner(s)? They know who they are, and I think listing them here will take far too long and too much of an effort. But just know I love y’all dearly and you’re the best <3

Who is your favourite character to roleplay with (regardless of the mun behind the muse)? I have stated this many times on countless occasions, but Malcolm Remington is and forever will be my favourite character I’ve ever encountered outside the pages of a book (and perhaps inside them, too). cc: @holywitchkid​. Close second is Anne because I love that crazy bitch too much. @eepwrites​

Who do you dream to roleplay with and what would you roleplay with them? I’m gonna take this as an IC question, because I can’t picture anyone I’d like to roleplay with from irl (although writers like Neil Gaiman or Warren Ellis because holy shit...lol who am I kidding I would freeze and die from the intimidation). I’d love to roleplay in some more fantasy/dystopian/sci-fi/adventure worlds, because I never write enough of those things. More supernatural and fantasy groups in 2019/20, pls.

What is one of your roleplay pet peeves? Fuck, where do I start. I’ll just list my roleplayer pet peeves, cause if I list my admin pet peeves we’ll be here all year. Lack of enthusiasm when answering plotting messages. NOT RESPONDING TO WHAT I WROTE U IN THE TAGS OF THE REPLY (LIKE BINCH. IS IT THAT HARD). Being basically a 1x1 blog in a group DON’T BE THAT PERSON, GO 1x1 SOMEWHERE ELSE WE DON’T GAF ABOUT YOUR SHIP. Those ridiculous wankery tags and over-formatted writing with no regards to the actual content of the writing itself. Inconsiderate people. Overly shippy, non-inclusive people. Characters that are infallible, unstoppable, or somehow just perfect and lacking any human traits whatsoever but the mun fails to see that because they’re doing a self-insert mary stu/gary stu wish fulfilment fantasy. Whew.

Do you prefer roleplaying with the same or with the opposite sex? Why? I honestly don’t have a preference. (although dynamics when writing with strangers on indie are mad whack, and I do have certain preferences there because people be mad weird when you wanna write with their male characters. Like...don’t offer them if you’re gonna hoard and guard them like Smaug, yo. That shit is weird).

How many hours a day do you spend roleplaying? Definitely not as much as I used to. Back in the good old days (aka 14/15), I could spend an all-nighter roleplaying or in a Chatzy event having the time of my life. These days it’s probably more like 2-3 nights in a week, an hour or two per night. I just don’t feel as involved as I used to sadly, but I can’t tell if that’s just personal burnout for me or if collectively no one’s feeling it as much anymore and it’s just the whole, general vibe nowadays (aka maybe time to get a new hobby).

Would you be able to get along with your muse? Depends on which muse. My main muses, Jude and Holly, I’d definitely get along with since they’re fairly chill. Now the other muses...that’s a swift curving scale from ‘sure’ to ‘hell no’.

#about the mun #survey #questionnaire

[firstgeners]

trying to keep these resolutions

hi friends, it’s me your favorite wolf, coming out during a full moon *Shakira voice* a-OOOO. is it even a full moon? is mercury in reggaetton again? whatever, ya’ll know what I mean. a lot has been going on since my last post, so this is gonna be a long one. get ready ladies and gents. so, new job, new brother in law, another amazing Conscious Queens and I’m already starting my planning for 2019. let’s talk about this title real quick, real quick. resolutions in July instead of January? for why? 

 so fun fact, I consider my birthday as a new year, Samiah New Year was in May. and this is the year of the glo up. Or at least that’s what I’ve intended. And I don’t know what it is about this year, but my life clock struck 27 years and all ze fax went out the window.

 I’ve been working to become closer to my faith, and the concept of setting intentions has become more ingrained in me. In Islam, intention is almost everything. If you intend to do something good, there is a reward in that; if you actually fulfill that intention there’s another reward for that. If you intend to do something good, but the execution is basura, your intention will always save you. I’ve typed the word “intention” so many times in these last few sentences that it doesn’t even look like a word to me anymore. 

so let’s go back and talk about these resolutions. I wanna share what I’m actively working on in year 27 of this series of ridiculous events that make up Samiah. 

1.  Being brave enough to be unapologetically myself, and to stop trying to be perfect all the time.

Guys. this has been my favorite one. I have been my normal vocal, silly, annoying, stupid mistake making, randomly inquisitive, overbearingly loving self.  I live from my heart completely, this means that I occasionally make a damn fool out of myself but that's okay because I am free in my foolishness and fierce in my love. It’s been so freeing. like ripping off your bra after a long day. why the fuck did I wait so long? 

2. To give the most sincere love I can. 

to myself. my mother. the rest of my family. my friends. people I interact with everyday. if I find my person, then to him too. and I wanna talk about what sincere love means to me. it means to make sure Im communicating, being patient and kind, seeing and accepting the ugly, nurturing where I can, not trying to change anyone to what I think they should be. Being my best self.  and most importantly, accepting when someone reciprocates this sincerity, while letting go of those who take this precious love for granted. 

3.  Consistently learning more about my faith,  and practicing what I learn. 

This has been an ongoing one. But I set the intention to get my obligatory and optional prayers as part of my routine. I’m making efforts to read the Quran in English so I am understanding the stories and timelines better; honestly I feel an emotional bond to my holy book because of this. It truly is a book of transformation. I’m learning to listen, to accept, hasbunallah wanikmal wakil. I will say though, I feel myself being tested more, but am becoming more proud of my reactions. inshaAllah, to more growth, knowledge, and unconditional love. May Allah open our doors. 

4. To take care of my body and mind. 

My body is a temple, but I am the architect. this last Ramadan was so transformative. after so many years, I finally feel like myself. I don’t know how to explain it. I’m learning how to balance being giving, while also keeping my cup full. I’ve changed my diet so I’m consuming more of what my body needs and loves, not just sugar and grease and other things that are delicious, but dont need to be part of my everyday. I’m back in the gym regularly again, slowly getting stronger and it’s the bees knees I’ll tell ya. I cut down on the Netflix, and went back to my old habit of snuggling en la guarida de la loba with a good book and getting lost for hours. My current favorite is A Temporary Gift, but warning you will spend the first half of the book sobbing. Currently reading Big Magic, waiting on  The Unfinished Memoirs’ of Sheikh Mujibur Rahman to come back in stock cuz I needs to get my hands on it. 

5. Coming back to writing. 

This blog has been one of my favorite projects. I love connecting with you guys. I love hearing how you’re helping children in ICE detention centers reunite with their parents. I wanna help those working to rehabilitate human trafficking victims back to a normal everyday life. I want to spread awareness and support those raising money to help a friend afford their medical procedures. I wanna tell you about how I struggle to stand up for myself because I always fear I’ll be too rough and hurt someone else’s heart. Or how I struggle to let shit go, and to forgive. Or how I am proud of myself for working my ass off and getting myself so far in my career in a short amount of time. you guys are my tribe, ubuntu. 

6.  Stick to my traditions

I am a strong believer in weekly tea dates, pinky promises, and saying good morning/good night. I think the last one means the most to me. I know when I wake up in the morning, I am not guaranteed to be on this earth until the night. And when I go to sleep at night, I know it’s not guaranteed that I will wake up in the morning. Good mornings and good nights are my only guarantee that I’d at least leave the people I care for with 2 sweet words, and the memory of a sweet tradition. 

like I said a lot’s been happening. life is too fucking short to be anything less than happy. to settle for a career that doesnt set your passion ablaze. to hold onto a grudge when ya’ll could just forgive each other and move on. to stay stuck on someone that isn’t matching your vibration. to give up on something that you believe in to you core. take the negative shit with a grain of salt and focus on what makes you smile. and I know, this shit is easier said than done. but be strong and perseverant. focus. stay close to your pack. howl into the night when you need to.

let’s call these resolutions my intentions instead. hopefully I make it to year 28 with better intentions, and even better actions. May Allah open our doors. 

with love and respect always, 

samiah

[coxinyoface]

i usually don’t do this but it’s 4am, i’m cramping/anemic/generally in pain and out of it, i’m procrastinating, and it’s been like. probably 2 years since the last time i did one of these? so why not since i have new followers after my acpc obsession! (the reason why not is... i write too much, sorry. a couple others have tagged me recently with similar questions and i stopped myself but hey i’ll let it go this time and try to be social)

i’m not sure who else to tag. i see the top three ppl i recognize often in my notifications lately are @lonelylittlewarlock @betumbledpolaritis @lavender-aquarius so how ‘bout you guys? feel free to ignore if you’re not up for it tho

anyway:

Get to know me tag! got tagged by @sundaycrossing and @lilcasshole

Nickname: on this account most people just call me CIYF and that’s fine. i haven’t had a proper nickname in a long time and i try to keep this acc separate because. coxinyoface is not the best name to reference offline or with work/art stuff lmao. 

Gender: nonbinary. they/them preferred.

Starsign: taurus.

Height: 5′3″/1.6m-ish? i’m short and fat and friendshaped i like to think.

Hogwarts house: ravenclaw or hufflepuff. when i was little i’d insist ravenclaw bc i’m a nerd who tried to persuade themselves they like school, but i’m likely hufflepuff bc i try too hard n am painfully stupidly loyal. idk. hp house discourse frustrates me.

Favorite animal: this changes frequently bc birds but today... potoo. potoos are often my favorite bc they could be my fuckin fursona and i relate deeply.

Favorite color: grey. stormy grey i think.

Current favorite song: зын зын by jokeasses. i found this through a random video of someone dancing in nosferatu drag to it months ago (thanks internet) and it’s still stuck. i keep switching between looping this, boogie by brockhampton, or yellow ferrari by mystery skulls. i can loop the same song for 10+ hours at a time. i do this bc i can have up to 5 songs stuck in my head at the same time and this somewhat cures that. it’s bad.

Ways to get creative: well. listening to music until my brain melts is one way. it’s easy to get creative but difficult to be productive, so i’d say just. trying to really really enjoy an activity, whether it’s reading, watching, or playing something, and trying to hold onto that feeling when i work on something. and then 4am binges of researching random shit that i can use to inspire myself later.

What do you do when you’re home alone: i’m either on tumblr, watching youtube, reading fanfic, or working on work art or art prints. acpc became a thing bc of lack of sleep and bird cult aesthetic n distraction. i’m currently stuck in a fic cycle of interest, it switches a lot. current fandom is HP (again) but i’ve gone into fic hell for naruto, opm, mcu, fucking anything that makes me hate myself. but then, i’ve also been reading a lot of bnha and some of that shit is actually so healthy and wholesome i cried. i want to get back into anime.

Average hours of sleep: hooo boy. it used to be 2 hours, consecutively, with maybe 4 total a day, while in college. i’m trying to fix that and i think i’m getting 3 hours consecutively and 5-6 total? i was doing great at some point last year and was somehow getting 5 consecutive hours up to 8 but. well. sleep’s a bitch and i have sleep paralysis and insomnia. today i managed to sleep maybe 5 consecutive and 15 total holy shit because i dreamed i had a heart attack and was dying and believed it (bc sleep paralysis)! in reality it was anemia fuckin me up today thanks google  

Cats or dogs?: cats. sorry dogs, i love you but you have too much energy. besides i feel like cat people are dogs and dog people are cats, and i’ve worked very hard to earn my cats love so i’m loyal now lmao

Numbers of blankets you sleep with: i’m going to say pillows instead, because i live in a warm area and blankets are the mortal enemy. so--four. one to make sure i don’t smash into the wall, one for my head that i will never use as i slowly rotate like a flailing turtle on its back, one for my legs to make sure i don’t kick, and one to hug so i don’t punch.

Dream job: honestly my standards are so damn low i’d probably do any digital illustration/graphic design art job that (1)pays decently for my area where (2)the clients weren’t from hell and (3)i could work from home. like. i used to have specifics like ~concept art~ and shit but i had a good couple of work months (before some very bad ones) where one really good nonprofit client made me realize i genuinely don’t give a fuck what i do so long as it genuinely helps someone/somepeople and also helps me exist.

Dream trip: i. don’t actually want to travel much. tbh, i did japan, korea, and the philippines in one week somehow, and it killed my interest in traveling due to over-planning. if i could go back in time and do it again, maybe i’d spend more time chilling in japan? i just want lipton milk tea in those lil cartons. why can’t they make those here. and omurice. and katsu. and... ok i’d travel to japan again just for food fuck it.

Sexuality: It’s Complicated but for simplification, grey ace. i say aro-ace but go back and forth using that label because it’s useful but i can’t tell if i’m aro or just too anxious to function bc i feel like i’m somehow tricking people if they like me, and have no idea what i find attractive in the weird range of people i’ve been attracted to or to what degree i am attracted. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ tbh, QPRs seem way more appealing to me because i’m just that kinda grey gay. none of this matters unless i maintain a healthier lifestyle that isn’t a hot mess or somehow get the fuck over myself tho. idk one day i’ll be more socially active again.

When did you make this account?: shit, like... 6 years ago i think? oof. a lot changes over six years. if i wasn’t lazy i’d make a new shitpost account so i could pretend to forget what an ass i was but i can’t even separate most of my interests by blog.

Number of followers: 3,050, around. it hovers back and forth due to i assume bots and ppl getting very confused. those of u here for youtubes, thanks for sticking around all these years and i’m sorry; those of u here for acpc, i’m sorry and hope you enjoy me being really mad abt acpc. i have no idea how accurate follower count really is, though; apparently my highest activity was back in 2015 and i had less than 2k then i think? fuck if i understand tumblr

anyway if you’ve somehow read through all of that thanks for listening to the ramblings of a madman hopped up on pain at 6am you’re a champ and this random online stranger loves you and wishes you a good day

#coxtalk #god this is genuinely so long looking at it i'm sorry i should never talk abt myself lmao