#have you noticed i cannot write multi-chapter fics. Yeah.

[feenmies]

feenie's dbh fic masterlist!!

i don't write much. as will become obvious in like. 2 seconds But when i DO i'll update this . probably. maybe. links + summaries under the cut

simarkus | oneshot | T | 2.4k | getting together | fluff | first kiss

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fall at your feet

Simon discovers his affection isn't as one-sided as he thought.

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i was born (to love you)

simarkus | oneshot | T | 5.1k | established relationship fluff | post-revolution | jericrew friendship!!!!

Three times work gets in the way of Simon and Markus' relationship, and one time it doesn't.

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faulty cables

simarkus | oneshot | T | 2.7k | pre-relationship | stratford tower fix-it | hurt/comfort

When Simon returns from Stratford Tower, Markus makes sure he's taken care of properly.

[kukuandkookie]

Lmfao help I totally forgot I scheduled my last post where I rambled about Jian Suiying in the tags (I probably scheduled it to seem more normal or something because I didn’t want to flood my feed 😂).

The reason I find it extra funny is because I literally feel like I’m going feral right now and I did just draft another Twitter thread ramble before coming on here and immediately seeing my scheduled post with those tags LADNSKDNS.

My Twitter is still on hiatus until further notice—aka when I am more comfortable interacting and sharing things socially—but over the past few weeks, my drafts have become very full of thoughts on LiJian (Li Yu and Jian Suiying) and YuBai (Yu Fengcheng and Bai Xinyu).

And the main reason I feel so feral right now—as in right this minute—is because of the author of this really good fic (which I found thanks to the fan audio drama adaptation on MaoEr FM) that’s multi-chaptered where the premise is that a younger Li Yu ends up in the present day in Li Yu and Jian Suiying’s house. Li Yu is obviously very upset by this because he hates his younger self for how he treated Jian Suiying, and the story is about helping him heal from that past.

And well anyways this post isn’t about that fic specifically, although it’s a really good fic and I went crazy over it a while ago as well: since it’s told entirely in screenshots on Weibo at least, I actually captured every image of text until I had everything and then I MTL’d them using Google Translate and then I severely edited them on-and-off based on my own Chinese knowledge—so this included grammar and pronouns but also less obvious stuff where I had to check line by line or turn it into audio to listen to. 😂

It’s a really fucking good fic though. So worth it.

And well the author has done other versions; one is where a younger Yu Fengcheng gets transported into current Yu Fengcheng and Bai Xinyu’s life, and I’ve already collected every part of that one (it’s still incomplete).

Except it referenced a case where there were two Jian Suiying’s, a fic the author said they were planning to write back when they released the two Li Yu’s fic, which obviously made me a little feral.

I struggled to find it until I finally did (yay!!) alongside a masterlist of their fics in general (yay!!!), and I really really want to translate and read it right now.

But part of me also wants to save it—because I like saving things I like—to the end, since the author has other fics I can translate first, including one where Li Yu gets amnesia, which will definitely also be quite interesting.

And yet. I cannot get over the concept of there being two Jian Suiying’s and how that might resemble or reflect or differ from the fic where there were two Li Yu’s (especially since the two Li Yu’s one is just very thematically perfect).

I might just translate it first because I can barely resist??? I already translated the second half of the first part just to tease myself, and it has me screaming because like:

(The above screenshots are from this fanfic here by 丧心病狂de凌子 on Weibo!)

The image of Li Yu dragging whom he assumes is his spouse (and he is; just from a different time period) back home only to come face-to-face with his actual spouse (of this time period) being all cute in his soft cozy home clothes with a little mug instead of having gone out drinking (which the Jian Suiying from a different time period in his arms had been doing—as all the fics so far have had the person from the past end up in the present after getting blackout drunk) which was a thing about Jian Suiying that Li Yu used to worry about…

(The above screenshot is canon and from the original novel!)

Yeah do you see what I mean???

I’m just so excited because you’ll get the chaos of two time periods intersecting, but also because Jian Suiying used to go out to such places and it upset Li Yu a lot since he knows Jian Suiying’s past life and their relationship took so long to get to a good place that he’s afraid Jian Suiying will discard him again when out partying—so seeing Jian Suiying here, at home on time, patiently waiting for his husband to come home from his business trip…

*sigh* They’re pretty cute even after all the craziness of their original novel lmao. 🥹

And yeah. Typing all this out…I think I’ll translate this first out of all of the author’s fics. I’m going to go insane otherwise SLFNKSDJSKS.

[whiskeybeforesunset]

Homecoming Part 4 | Steve Harrington

Pairing: Steve Harrington x Male!Reader

Word Count: 3.6k

Synopsis: According to Steve Harrington “only losers don’t go to Homecoming.” This multi-part fic followed the reader through different experiences of the night. After parties are supposed to be fun right?

Warnings: Underage drinking, insecurity, internalized homophobia, reader bonks his head, making out, people in bathing suits?, unrequited love but not with Steve I promise I was nice this time guys, happy ending

Author’s note: Can you tell I didn’t go to a lot of parties in high school? I know this final part took forever to get out. Also I know there’s some inconsistencies in the story, hopefully they aren’t too jaring lol. I don’t know if I like the ending, but I think that’s mostly just due to me not being used to writing happy endings so it feels off.

Previous Chapter

___

You’re once again sitting in the back of Steve’s car. Words cannot describe just how little you want to attend this party. Jesus, why did you agree to do this whole night in the first place? Your eyes flick up to Steve in the driver's seat. His suit is still on, but he certainly has the whole ‘post dance’ look down. His tie is loosened and the top buttons of his dress shirt are undone. His hair is messier than the last time you saw it, and his lips are tinted with Tina’s lipstick. 

You take a deep breath before looking out the window. It’s only a few more hours, you tell yourself. Plus, there’ll be beer, that should help. Yes, alcohol is something you need right now. 

…

“You good?” Steve asked while handing you your swim trunks. You were hesitant about a pool party at first, but the way in which your dress shirt has stiffly dried makes you grateful for the opportunity to change.

“Yeah, why?” Liar. Steve looks at your face, trying to read your expression.

“Uh, you kinda ran out of the gym real quick at the dance. And when you got in the car… I just thought I’d check in on you.” You feel your face flush as he speaks.

“Oh, that?” You say quietly. He responds with a short nod.

“Well,” you pause, struggling to think of an explanation.

“Look, don’t worry about it man,” he cuts you off. “Whatever it was, it’s none of my business. I shouldn’t have said anything in the first place. I’ll just head down so you can change.” He turns to leave the room. 

“Steve, wait I-” you're not even sure what you were going to say, but when he turns around the words fall flat on your tongue. 

“I... was wondering where the bathroom was?” Wow, nice save. Your rate of speech slows throughout your lame excuse like a robot shutting down.

“Down the hall, to the left… where it always is.” He says. You give an awkward laugh.

“Right, ok thanks.” He gives you a confused look before closing the door behind him. 

…

There’s a lot more people than you expected. While you had been changing at least 20 more arrived. You can see groups of teens scattered around Steve’s backyard, mostly in the pool, but there were clusters conversing or trying to get a game of beer pong started up. 

The pavement below felt abrasive. The dampness created by people coming in and out of the pool felt clammy against your dry feet. In that moment you became hyper-aware of your state of dress, the simple shorts leaving you feeling exposed. Are people making side glances at you? Wondering how on Earth you manage to get invited to this party? Or maybe they thought you snuck in like some kind of creepy, why would Steve Harrington want to hang out wi-

“Here, drink.” Tommy pulls you out of your thoughts by handing you a red solo cup filled with what you can only assume is beer. 

“I uh-” you go to reject his offer, but upon examining your surroundings you notice almost everyone has a cup in hand. Plus, it’s not as though you're opposed to numbing yourself for the rest of this night. Instead of finishing your sentence, you take the cup and give a nod of acknowledgement.

“Come on, it’s a party.” Tommy says gesturing to the space around him. “Get in the pool, loosen up a little.” As always, you can’t help but find something off about his… friendly expression. Regardless you make your way over and hope for the best. 

…

It’s just a bunch of drunk teenagers in a swimming pool, what’s the worst that could happen? Well, chicken fighting, apparently. 

You’re not sure what started it, and you're not sure how you were convinced to join in, but regardless there you stood with Nicole on your shoulders. It was actually kind of fun, you were doing pretty well and making your way up the ranks, now facing… Tommy and Carol. 

If you were a little more sober, you may have realized how screwed you were in this battle, but Nicole’s cheers of joy at your triumphant win last round spurred you on. 

Tommy took out your legs pretty quickly, and your drunken state left you in no shape to remain upright. Unfortunately, Nicole pushed down on your shoulder in an attempt to keep herself above water, leading you to bump your head on the bottom of the pool.

You can hear loud cheers through the dimly lit water. The only thing hinting your disoriented figure as to which direction you were facing was the colosseum-like barrier of legs surrounding the chicken fighting ring. It’s peaceful down here. The crowd seems much less intimidating when all you can see is their meandering bottom halves. Maybe you’ll just stay here for a bit, enjoy the peace. 

Or maybe not.

A flurry of bubbles appears around you and you feel two arms wrap around your torso pulling you to the surface. Steve’s arms tighten when you try to push him away, not letting go till he had dragged you to the less populated shallow end of the pool. Thankfully people were distracted and didn’t notice the incredibly embarrassing rescue.

“Let me go ‘m fine.” You say sharply, finally separating from him.

“You were sitting under water and not moving for nearly two minutes.” Steve responds flatly.

“I wasn’t drowning Steve, I was just…” You pause, not really sure how to describe what happened.

“Yeah, you seem totally fine.” Steve said sarcastically. His eyebrows were drawn together.

“Whatever.” You scoff. He goes to reach for you but you have already made your way out of the pool.

“I need another drink.” You tell yourself.

…

This is fun. You're fun.

This is going great. You repeat in your head as you make your way to an unoccupied room in the basement. It was dark, the only light coming in through a small window near the ceiling. Plopping down on a couch you giggle when you bounce a bit.

“Hey.” You look up to see Nicole standing in the doorway. She’s in her swimsuit and her hair is still wet.

“Nicooooleeee.” You extend the latter vowels of her name far longer than necessary. She laughs and makes her way over to you.

“I’m glad to see you’re having some fun. I was kind of worried. Earlier tonight, I mean.” You frown slightly as she says this. 

“Yeah, I guess I just had to loosen up a bit.” You say wiggling shoulders. She laughs and moves closer so that your knees are touching. You tense slightly but she doesn’t seem to notice.

“Y’know I’m really glad you asked me to the dance.” Nicole said, looking at you through her eyelashes. 

“Oh?” You respond nervously.

“Yeah, I know we don’t really talk all that much but I’ve always thought you were really cute.” She blushes looking down.

“Oh, thanks.” You say, she looks up at you expectantly. “Your hair is, um, really pretty.” What? Is that even something guys are supposed to notice? 

“Thanks, that’s really sweet.” Nicole laughs. You two sit there looking at each other for a while before she leans in and kisses you. You don’t move or kiss her back. 

After realizing your lack of reciprocation, she quickly turns her back towards you. The calming dimness of the room suddenly feels all consuming, and the once sought after quiet allows Nicole's cries to be fully heard.. Your stomach is in knots. You can see her pale shoulders shake with her sobs in the moonlight coming through the window.

“Nicole I-” You start to say.

“No.” She says shortly. “I don’t understand I- I spend all night trying my best to be pretty, and act how girls are supposed to. I just wanted tonight to go right. I just wanted you to like me.” Tears continue to flow down her face and she speaks. “Why… why would you ask me to the dance if you knew you…” She takes a deep breath in a failed attempt to calm herself down and level her speech, causing a series of sobs to come out instead.

She knows. Fuck she knows. You should have just kissed her back. Hell, you should have just married her if she wanted. Anything would be better than her knowing, than anyone knowing. 

“Why would you ask me if you knew you liked another girl?” She finishes her sentence, looking up at you with a very similar complexion to the one you had in the bathroom earlier in the night.

“Nicole, I-” You go to deny her claim, but realize that this is probably your best way out of this. 

“You’re right. I’m still not over my ex. It was selfish of me to ask you out tonight, I’m sorry.” She sniffs and turns to face the wall opposite of the couch, nodding while processing the information. She wipes her tears before standing up and leaving the room.

Shit. Once Nicole leaves you lean back and fully lay down. You’ll give her a better apology on Monday, you tell yourself. But who are you kidding? You never talked to Nicole before, and you doubt she will ever want to speak to you again after tonight. You feel goosebumps form on your arms, the warm buzz of the alcohol was wearing off. Maybe getting into dry clothes and heading home is the best move right now. 

You miraculously make your way up two sets of stairs and back into Steve’s bedroom. You silently thank the universe that it’s unoccupied and begin changing back into your clothes. You were able to get your pants on and most of the buttons done up on your shirt before Steve came in.

“Ah there you are, I’ve been looking everywhere for you and- wait are you leaving?” Steve asks, stepping in and closing the door behind him,

“Yeah.” You say quietly, not bothering to look up at him. If you had, you would have seen the concerned look on his face. He felt bad, he shouldn’t have pressured you into doing all this tonight.

“What happened? Tommy said he saw you at the keg earlier and you were having fun?” Steve said. You grimace at the mention of Tommy’s name.

“I-” You pause. Dramatically groaning you lie down sideways on Steve’s bed. 

“Wow. That bad huh?” Steve makes his way over to his bed too, lying down next to you. Albeit a bit less dramatically.

“No, well yes? God, I’m such a dick.” You relay the events that occured while remaining on your back, Steve was on his side turned to you intently listening. 

“Yeah, that is bad.” He said plainly.

“Thanks, I feel so much better.” You respond sarcastically, you finally turn to him. It’s not as though it’s the first time you two had laid in his bed at the same time. There was just usually daylight and text books involved. 

“I’m really sorry. I shouldn’t have made you come tonight.” Steve said quietly. When you look at him from across the bed, you know you can’t go on like this. You wish you could just ignore your feelings and be able to keep Steve in your life as a friend, but after tonight you know that’s not possible.

“It's okay, I know you were just trying to include me. I just-” you pause to make sure the words come across right. “I like tutoring you but-”

“Aha! So you admit it!” Steve interrupts.

“I’m being serious,” you frown. “I think it might be better if we don’t hang out outside of that.” Steve’s face falls at your words. 

“Okay, I guess I can respect that if that’s what you really want.” He looks at you with those damn puppy dog eyes. 

“I don’t know what I want.” You say, although Steve had no idea the deeper meaning behind your words. 

“How about this, right now we get that shirt buttoned up properly. You can go home, sober up, get some rest, and then we can talk about it.” You looked down and noticed you were two buttons off. Damn.

“Yeah, that’s probably a good idea.” You sigh sitting up. 

Steve turns to you and starts unbuttoning your shirt. You try your best to keep your thoughts at bay but can’t help but blush. Once he moves back up to refasten them you laugh.

“What?” he says asmmused.

“In all the fantasies I’ve had about you taking my shirt off, none of them have involved you putting it back on immediately after.” You laugh again before looking up at him. He is not laughing, in fact he has a very serious look on his face. Your face falls as you realize what you just said. Steve’s hands still rest at the collar of your shirt, unmoving. 

“Steve, I-” You go to explain yourself but before you can, his lips find yours. His hands move from your shirt collar and onto your face as he tilts his head for a better angle. 

Unlike with Nicole, you quickly respond to Steve’s actions. Your own hands finding his sides as he turns your bodies so he’s on top of you. You move your hands up his back and onto his shoulders, pressing his body further into yours. His bare chest touches yours, dress shirt now loosely hanging on your body. 

“Stevie, where are you?” Tina’s muffled voice calls from the stairwell. Immediately you separate, looking at each other with panicked eyes.

“I’ll be down in a sec Tina.” Steve calls out unmoving. She seems satisfied at this and makes her way back down the stairs. Fuck, Tina. Steve likes Tina. Steve kissed Tina, but Steve also kissed you. Oh my god you just kissed Steve. No, this wasn’t supposed to happen, you were supposed to keep it a secret. Steve seemed to notice your brains working in overdrive as he said:

“So… we should talk about… that…” He said. He held both his hands out as if to give a peaceful gesture, but you had already begun buttoning your shirt back up.

“No, no. This didn’t happen. This can’t have happened.” You say, slipping your shoes on and grabbing your jacket. You leave his bedroom and Steve quickly follows.

“Hey, come on.” Steve calls as he chases you through the house. You exit through the back door, hoping to lose him in the crowd surrounding the pool. However, he grabs your wrist before you can make it to the gate.

“Stop.” Steve pleads as he says your name. Unlike the last time you two were arguing, you had caught the attention of the party and all eyes were on you.

“No, Steve. I’m going home.” You say, stepping back in an attempt to distance yourself. Your feet however do not find solid ground behind you, but instead step off the ledge leading into the pool.

After plunging to the bottom you make your way to the surface of the pool, wadding in your now waterlogged clothes. You look up to see Steve with a very distressed look on his face. He holds his hand out to you, eyes silently pleading for you to accept it. You may have been drunk, but you weren’t willing to embarrass yourself any further by failing to get out of a pool by yourself in wet clothes.

As soon as you get out you continue your path toward the gate. Steve doesn’t follow this time.

…

Crickets chirp as you make your way back home. It’s pitch black out, around 3 AM if you had to guess. Your soaked shirt clings to your skin like gum on a shoe; it isn’t doing you any favors in the late September weather. Your mind wanders to tonight's events. ‘Photos, dinner, the dance, and then the after party’ was what Steve told you. Oh god Steve. You realize one of your only friendships just got significantly more complicated, if not completely destroyed. God your head hurts.

“How did things turn out like this?” You mumble to yourself, running a hand lazily across your face. 

The drinking, you conclude. Probably the drinking. 

You’re thankful your parents are out of town as your now ruined dress shoes squeak your way through the front door. Abandoning your clothes in the entryway to be dealt with tomorrow, you take a hot shower before collapsing into bed. Sleep comes quickly.

…

You groan and move your hand to block the rays of sunlight entering through your window. As you sit up a pulsing headache brings back memories of the night before. Fuck. Glancing at your alarm clock you can see it’s already past noon. You slowly make your way out of bed and into the kitchen. Digging through a drawer you manage to find some tylenol and down it with a glass of water. You lay your head down on the cold granite countertops, begging for the ground to open and swallow you whole. 

A loud knocking causes you to open your eyes again. It’s probably just Mr. Davis, your neighbor, asking if you can mow his lawn again. You wait for it to go away, but it doesn't stop. You begrudgingly make your way over to the front door, doing your best to straighten the lounge wear you have on so it’s somewhat presentable. To your surprise Steve is standing on the other side of the door when you open it. 

“Can I, uh, come in?” He asks. You stand there for a minute, mouth agape and eyes wide staring at him.

“I’ll take that as a yes…” He says, carefully stepping around you and into your home. Closing the door behind him, you both idle awkwardly in the entryway. 

“So I’m here to talk about… it.” Steve says.

“Which it?” You respond, trying your best to make light out of the situation.

“I guess whichever one you're willing to talk about?” He says apprehensively, hand moving behind his neck. You sigh before making your way into your living room, this felt like a ‘you should sit down for this’ kind of conversation. Steve follows and sits on your couch next to you. 

The two of you sit in silence, staring at an abstract painting that hung on the opposite wall.

““I’m sorry, I know I crossed a line last night and I made you uncomfortable. If you don’t want to hang out with me, or even tutor me I understand. It was stupid and I was drunk and-” Steve finally says.

“Wait, what?” You respond. Turning your head to look at him. “Steve, I want us to keep hanging out, and us… kissing last night isn’t the problem. I mean it is, but it isn’t? Look, this,” you motion between the two of you “whatever it is, can’t be healthy if I have to ignore… things for it to function. If it’s like you said, and it was just a stupid drunk thing for you, then I don’t really see a way that us hanging out makes sense.” 

“Was it… not a stupid drunk thing for you?” Steve asks quietly. Looking up at him, you realize how surreal this conversation feels. After last night, you just assumed you wouldn’t be talking to anyone who attended the party ever again. Yet here you are, on your living room couch with Steve Harrington asking you a very loaded question.

“No, it wasn’t.” You say, studying his face for a reaction.

“I am incredibly confused right now.” Steve states plainly. “But… I know that what I feel for you wasn’t just a last night thing. I’ve actually felt this way for a while now.”

“You have?” You ask shocked.

“Yeah,” Steve responds sheepishly. “I mean it was hard to recognize it at first, you're a guy obviously so that was… new. I tried to just ignore it and focus on the girls I was seeing but there was always this little part of my brain that said there was a chance you liked me too since you never really date anyone. I thought if I got you a girlfriend, then maybe that part of my brain would shut up.”

“Hence the insistence of me going to the dance.” You say.

“Yeah,” he laughs. “I guess it all sounds pretty stupid now.”

“You’re right.” You say taking his hands in your own. “I think we’ve both been pretty stupid.”

The future of your relationship may be unclear, but as you lean in to kiss him, hands intertwined making silent promises to each other, you feel safe knowing that Steve is navigating it with you.

[raspberry-fool]

SORRY THERES A LOT BUT (u obvi dont have to do them all): 7, 20, 22, 23, 24, 56, 60, 74, 77!!!! <333333

YAYYY and yeah no i’m gonna do them all 🤠

7. How do you choose which POV to write from? i’m a multi-pov girl and like. every time a story starts with only one pov i promise myself it’s gonna stay that way and every time within a few days of planning i’ve added like 2 more people. so like. cyrelius went from cyrus pov to cyrus and aurelius pov to cyrus, aurelius and rita pov. idk how i decide tho………generally the story idea just comes like that

20. Have you noticed any patterns in your fics? Words/expressions that appear a lot, themes, common settings, etc? yes. very very many. but especially themes – they’re all (with the exception of anya’s diner and the herodotus one) about revolution. like, always. everything is about revolution. it’s ridiculous (and i love it). also they’re always about love ofc <3

22. Are there certain types of writing you won’t do? (style, pov, genre, tropes, etc) hmmm i’m not sure actually. nothing super dark i think. the darkest i go is cyrelius and even that is still about hope. like even if a story starts really dark and depressing it slowly gets more and more hopeful. also my writing style often has a quite light-hearted tone so

23. Best writing advice for other writers? if you’re struggling with plot, give yourself a visual representation of it. as in write out the main things you need to happen, put them in order, and figure out how to get from one to the other. it’s good if you have separate little boxes for plot points that you can move around. it also helps to be aware of where everything is happening. anyways this method literally saved my life it’s the reason i managed to get the full, detailed plot of sst from scratch. use milanote.com. you’ll thank me later :D

24. Worst writing advice anyone ever gave you? hmm i’m not sure. if someone criticises my writing style, by telling me it’s too pretentious or long-winded or descriptive, i tend to just ignore it because i pride myself on my prose tbh and idgaf if it’s too convoluted. like above all i need my writing to sound nice. i don’t like it to be simple

56. What’s something about your writing that you pride yourself on? i just said this but my prose!! i’m good at descriptions :] also, my themes & motifs, especially in cyrelius, are pretty cool imo

60. Have you had a writer you admire comment on your fic? What was that like? i don’t think so? i’ve only posted a fic on ao3 once and very briefly (and it was unfinished) so

74. You’ve posted a fic anonymously. How would someone be able to guess that you’d written it? lots of vivid, atmospheric description and everyone talks like they go to a british boarding school in the 1920s agdhfjfj. also a good dose of dialogue that doesn’t take the plot anywhere

77. Do you have a favorite scene you’ve written from [Fanfic Name] story/chapter? ‘they cannot kill us, cyrus, no more than a drop of water could kill the sun.’ OUGHHH but also just for you i’ll post andrea’s first appearance in sst (i love this opening sm):

idiot (affectionate) also:

ANDREA WHY ARE YOU LIKE THIS

local rebellious teen acts girlboss but is actually cringefail 7 dead 94 injured

[fourth-dimensional-thinker]

The “Time Is a Flat Circle” Mega-Post

I’d like to start by saying I really don’t know how other people read fan-fiction. I, personally, tend to just be a one-and-done kind of person. Unless I forgot what happened, I don’t constantly go back and re-read chapters of a multi-chapter work whenever it gets updated. I also don’t know how every fic writer works. I know some people plan meticulously and others will just add chapters on a whim.

I am a thorough planner (mostly).

Time Is a Flat Circle took me months to write, but also weeks to plan. It was made with the intent to be re-read. I wanted there to be a different experience for when you re-read it after you learn the information revealed at the end.

So, I made a very, very long guide to all those details to look out for if you ever want to re-read it.

Foreshadowing of the time loop

1) The photograph of Marty with Copernicus

This scene from Chapter 19:

The teenager reaches out and the terrier lets himself be scooped up off the ground. Copernicus licks Marty as thanks for lifting him. Marty grins broadly from the canine’s affection and moves to find a high surface to deposit Doctor Brown's dog. Just as he turns around, the flashbulb blinds him. He blinks once, twice, and then places Copernicus back on the floor so he can rub his eyes.

“That’s going to come out really blurry,” he tells the doctor.

“I’d still like to keep it; something to remember you by.”

was foreshadowed in Chapter 2:

“We’re debating if this guy looks like you.”

Marty squints at the black and white photo that he’s holding. The image shows an older teenage boy holding a dog in his arms. The picture appears to be taken in a moment in time where the boy was fidgeting around with energetic joy instead of being in a ready pose. His face is left blurry, but from what can be made out, his features aren’t too distinct from Marty’s.

“Kinda,” he tries to say nonchalantly. Marty puts it back on the shelf and walks away from it; the photograph unsettles him deeply.

2) The family portrait in Doc’s home

This scene from Chapter 13:

He also notices how, in all the portraits and photographs in the home, Erhardt Brown’s face shows up in none of them. If the judge originally appeared in any pictures, his face was cut out or painted over– and using his first impression of the man, Marty doesn’t hold the vandalism against Doctor Brown.

was foreshadowed in Chapter 2:

Marty stares at a family portrait while the other boys move on to the next room. In this photo, there are three bodies: a father’s, a mother’s, and their child’s. However, only two pairs of eyes look back at him; the father’s face has been completely painted over in the portrait.

3) The initial pain from flux capacitors

This comment from Chapter 2:

“You’re not going to want to be awake for this process, my boy,” Doctor Brown explains as he picks up Marty’s unconscious body, “it’s going to hurt tremendously.”

becomes relevant again in Chapter 17:

Marty almost gasps once the bandages fully come off; there are Y-shaped scars rooted in both of Doctor Brown’s palms.

“You have them too…”

“Yes, and I cannot express how painful they are,” he rasps. “Please tell me–don’t actually– that you weren’t conscious when you were given these.”

4) Doc and Lorraine’s phone conversation

This bit of conversation between them in Chapter 3:

Lorraine seethes. “You're beyond delusional if you think scarring my child was anything but an attack.”

“Those are a gift,” he claims. “It pains me that you think I would hurt your son, Lorraine. Don't you remember all those years ago when–?”

“I didn't know what you were back then.”

...is a reference to Doc’s meeting with Lorraine and baby Marty in all of Chapter 21.

5) The wooden horse that Marty gifts Doc

This scene in Chapter 8:

“And– oh! I also wanted to give you something too.” Marty rustles through his bag.

“Really?”

“Yeah, I saw it in a store.”

Marty offers the horse carving towards his [Emmett’s] free hand.

and this scene from Chapter 10:

Marty spots the horse carving posing proudly on the credenza. The wooden animal has been coated in dark paint with an even darker mane, tail, and hooves. The eyes are detailed with the illusion of having life.

“You painted it,” Marty notes once Emmett has cautiously brought himself next to him. “It's a nice job– really nice.”

were foreshadowed in Chapter 4:

Across town, the mad scientist puts back a small carving of a horse on his bookshelf. The little wooden figure is decades old, but has an incredible sentimental value that makes the Hope Diamond look worthless.

6) The little canary nickname

This scene in Chapter 16 (which also titled “Canary”!):

“I can make jokes, too, little canary.” [Doctor Brown says]

Marty pauses for a moment. The smile fades.

“That’s an, um, interesting thing to call someone.”

was foreshadowed in Chapter 5:

“If you try to come near me again, I’ll hang up and call the cops on you,” Marty threatens.

“This town’s law enforcement community won’t be helping you, little canary,” he says matter-of-factly. “They’re too inept to do anything but distribute parking tickets at this point.”

7) The title

I think it speaks for itself.

Hints that Doc has not turned good

1) The investigation team

When Needles mentions the rumor of the four murders that Doc is supposedly responsible for in Chapter 2:

Needles grabs his arm before Marty can fully make it out the door. “So soon? We’re in the home of a man who killed at least four people. We have an inspection to finish.”

it’s a reference to the investigation team in Chapters 24 & 25:

What was just described to the teen was the investigation team of 1978, a staple of his childhood stories. Albert Wickham was a senior police officer with over twenty years on the job under his belt. Nicole “Nicky” Newton was a budding librarian and the youngest of the bunch. Nathan Baran and Caroline Snider were both staff at the local newspaper. No one from Marty’s time has seen them in years.

2) The glass of water chapter

As we have established in Chapter 25:

“Don’t move,” he [Doc] orders. “This is the danger of quickly changing the temperature of a room.”

Emmett steadies his hands, takes a quick breath, and yanks away the heat of his kitchen.

A harsh wave of cold knocks into both of them. A faint crack is heard before the glass violently shatters asunder. Shards of ice and glass whizz in all directions. The broken pieces rain down on the floor and table top with a twinkling clatter. Underneath the table, they stay safe from the precipitation of ice and glass.

They don’t leave the shelter of the table long after the last shard landed.

“Woah,” Marty gasps. The exclamation leaves his mouth as a puff of vapor.

“When water freezes, it crystallizes, causing it to expand and break its container. What we can do with our power can match the abilities of a freezer more than tenfold,” the doctor says as they emerge from the table. “Do you understand why I don’t want it to leave our hands, Marty?”

But, before that, when Doc is meeting with the investigation team, we see them all close to some sort of glass container that’s filled with water:

Snider is huddled by the windows, next to the small collection of limp yellow plants that sit in overwatered glass vases. Newton and Baran stand on guard at either side of a long side table. The only object on the table is a large glass fish tank that houses no aquatic life.

[...]

Wickham then returns to his original spot with a full glass in his hands.

And then the meeting ends on this sentence:

Emmett smiles coolly. “Now that we’re all here,” he says, fidgeting with the hem of one of his gloves, “I believe your explanation is due…”

3) The guppies

As an extension of the glass of water scene, one of the investigation team member’s guppies ends up in Doc’s house after his meeting:

He turns towards Baran. “You own a fish tank with no fish,” the scientist observes. When the other man silently stares him down, Emmett defends, “I’m only trying to make small talk, Mr. Baran.”

“I’m cleaning the tank later,” Baran gruffly answers. “The fish are in another container in the kitchen.”

“Are they difficult to care for?”

“Guppies? No.”

[...]

“Hey, when did you get fish, Doctor Brown?” “Last night,” he shouts back, “I was inspired by the meeting to take them in.”

4) Adelina, Doc and Sara’s pet cat

Adelina is a symbol of the future Doc in 1940. They share white hair, a deep interest in Marty, and a “love language” that comes off as disturbing to Marty.

As seen in Chapter 10 & 11:

Adelina strolls in. Marty glances down at her and she returns it with a deep, interested stare.

[...]

Across the room, Adelina is resting, coiled up near the fireplace. The glow of the hearth dyes her long white fur to a golden orange. She peers pointedly at him again with her big and inquisitive eyes. Marty turns on his back to look at the pale ceiling instead; their cat’s potent stare bothers him.

[...]

“What the hell?!” he shrieks, recoiling on the sofa.

Emmett comes back over and glances down at the tiny corpse. “Oh, Adelina’s already leaving you gifts.”

Still tightly curled on the couch, Marty asks incredulously: “That's a gift?”

“Yes, I know it can seem cruel, but it’s her way of showing affection.”

[...]

When he steps out of the bathroom, Marty almost steps on Adelina. The white-haired feline is sitting right in front of the doorframe, looking up at him with hopeful eyes. She trots after him when he passes by her and goes to the kitchen.

[...]

Adelina leaps onto his lap in a fluffy blur. Marty lifts his hands up slightly in a half-surrendered gesture to avoid touching her. The teenager has never been a cat person; he’s heard tales of horror from his aunt about what obnoxious menaces they can be and has witnessed the proof of her clawed forearms. Adelina decides to curl up on him, a white ball with hair held up with static electricity.

5) The painting scene in Chapter 22

So, in this chapter, pretty much everything related to painting is representative of either Doc or Marty’s emotions. I’m not going to talk about everything, since it would involve copying and pasting almost half of the chapter in here. But, one of the ways of showing that Doc hasn’t changed is with deserts. They’re used to show his inner personality, with both of them considered to be dangerous and hostile to life. Doc finds beauty and application in deserts while Marty is weary of them:

“So, why deserts?” Marty asks.

“They’re common settings for Westerns– excuse me.”

“Yeah, but some of them don’t have any horses or people in them,” the teen notes, then quickly moves aside to let Doctor Brown have access to a cabinet.

“I’ve also learned to appreciate the hidden beauty of the environment itself. Most of what lives in the desert comes out at night: jackrabbits, tortoises, toads, owls–”

“–coyotes, mountain lions, scorpions.”

“Yes, all native fauna of that habitat. Many people see the deserts as a harsh, barren landscape– would you fill up those two jars with water?–but underneath all of the thorns and storms is its rich life.”

“Most people would still die in them.”

Doctor Brown gives him an amused look. “That’s a likely fate to the inexperienced wanderer. However, I’ve read stories, tales of adventures, where someone determined enough uses his will and wits to make it through the night– especially at the skepticism of others.” He rolls out a long, thin sheet of paper over the table before turning back to Marty. “Could you see yourself surviving in the desert?”

The other one is color symbolism. The most prominent one for Doc is using red for his hidden anger. Him using that color shows up after Marty talks about his not-so-good relationship with his family:

“It’s just– it’s just that we– we fight sometimes and don’t really get along a lot of times. I don’t hate my family, Doctor Brown, but…” he [Marty] confesses, “...it'd be nice to get away from home every now and then…”

Marty glances over the scientist’s canvas. An aggravated, angry, bull-enraging color is dominating the canvas.

“You’re using an awful lot of red,” he comments.

[...]

He checks on Doctor Brown’s progress. The outraged red color had been masked well and blended into the other hues in with his horizon.

And just to hammer things home, Doc ends the chapter with this line:

“[Do] Whatever the hell you want; it’s art. You could make it complete nonsense or plan something so intricately complicated that people can’t see the hidden messages right under their noses.”

Misc things I just wanted to point out

1) In Chapter 21, when Doc tells Lorraine:

“I remember almost every conversation I’ve had. I can recall things back from when I was twenty-nine, twenty, seventeen, you name it.”

those are all the previous ages he was when Marty visited him in 1937, 1940, and 1949. I used 1920 as Doc’s birth year for this fic

2) This line from Chapter 4:

Despite his best efforts at cramming, Marty can’t distinguish a secant from a cosecant or remember which president was blamed for the Great Depression or draw a force diagram or remember the prefixes for scientific units or conjugate irregular verbs in Spanish or remember what polysyndeton is.

is an example of polysyndeton.

3) This minor mentioned character from Chapter 1:

When he [Marty] joins The Pinheads, he hears about Doctor Brown again. He's sitting in the bed of a pickup truck with his bandmates and Donnie, their drummer's older cousin and acting roadie.

is an oc I made for a writing request.

Other fun facts

I rewrote Chapter 5 & 6 each three times

Older versions of this fic had chapters were Marty went to 1941, 1953, 1960, and 1969

Marty breaking into Doc’s house, the flux capacitor scars + taking in outside energy, and the glass of water scene are the only elements that have survived since draft one

That being said, I had started working on the glass of water chapter months before it was published

I have even older concepts of a darker Doc before I came to the version of him in Time Is a Flat Circle

In the older versions, Doc is still affectionate and protective of Marty in his own unhinged way... but was also just straight up murdering people on behalf of his best friend

After that, I added a “no killing rule” to him and ended up liking that twisted version of him better

I also wrote a snippet of a “sequel” fic while I was still writing “Time Is a Flat Circle”. It involves... a grave misuse of spiders...

A full, planned out sequel is still in the imagination phase. I currently have nothing actually written down yet

[victoriousscarf]

There's so many questions on this thing I can't choose lol- (if that's too much stuff at once just pick the ones you feel like answering and ignore the rest 😅)

7. How do you choose which POV to write from?

9. Do you comment on stories you read?

12. how does receiving or not receiving feedback/support impact you?

16. How many fic ideas are you nurturing right now? Share one of them?

17. What do you do when writing becomes difficult? (maybe a lack of inspiration or writers block)

20. Have you noticed any patterns in your fics? Words/expressions that appear a lot, themes, common settings, etc?

22. Are there certain types of writing you won’t do? (style, pov, genre, tropes, etc)

28. On average, how much writing do you get done in a day?

29. What’s your revision or editing process like? (Plus 47. How many times do you usually revise your fic/chapter before posting?)

40. If someone were to make fanart of your work, what fic or scene would you hope to see? (this is probably my favorite question) (I'm most curious about covet verse scenes ofc) (but yeah feel free to talk about whatever fic you feel like)

53. How do you spend your time when it comes to fanfiction? Are you primarily a fic reader, writer, or a perfect 50/50 split of both?

55. Of the characters you write for, which is your favorite? Has that choice been swayed at all by your followers/readers’ reactions to certain ones?

60. Have you had a writer you admire comment on your fic? What was that like?

65. Tell us about what you’re most looking forward to writing – in your current project, or a future project

7. It depends? Like sometimes a story will just be one POV--like Covet is pretty much Fili, and I'll often take Dick's POV over Jason's in a DC fic, but usually it's like whose eyes do I most want to be on in this fic/scene? I have definitely started leaning toward whole fics in one POV but I will still switch if it works for the story (for example, needing to know scenes about which one character cannot know about). I would have previously said I would switch POVs more in long fics but Mahanon sorta shot that right out of the water. I enjoy the challenge of a limited POV fic sometimes, because you really are stuck with this one dude for what's now 500k and thus as limited in knowledge as he is. But it's rarely something I think like, that much about.

9. I am once again trying to get better lol. It's all about seasons of our lives, right? I used to try and go through fics that didn't have a bunch of comments and comment on them in the smaller fandoms/ships I was in, but then I stopped reading fic for a very long time, and now that I'm more regularly reading again, it's like flexing a muscle to comment again.

But it is an effort, one I think more people need to start accepting again. Writing is really hard work, it deserves some acknowledgement.

12. Like. I will write some wild things, and I don't need a LOT of feedback persay, but if something is getting no acknowledgement at all and another fandom is doing their best to feed me... receiving/not receiving feedback WILL impact my desire to work on a fic. It can be one or two dedicated as fuck readers who get me through a whole story, or it might be a whole swarm of them, but if I get dead silence, I have less like ability to push through the bad times (which always come in any multi chapter fic) and keep going. It hurts the motivation to get silence for sure.

16. So many. So many. As always so many.

I've got usually a whole stack of fics waiting for me to care about them/have the time which I never do. In Dragon Age I've got a pirate AU (Just, Cassandra ranting every 30 seconds about the fact they declared her a pirate but when someone offers her a pardon if she turns Mahanon in she tosses them over the side of the ship like well anyway) a whole Regency Era AU with strong vibes of Jonathan Strange and Mr. Norrel, and a very strange fake dating college au that may involve Fae.

Tolkien wise I've got some fics I promised people that I never wrote, an elf time loop one (which apparently is becoming a really popular idea in the Silm fandom on tumblr haha but I've been nursing this damn one for ages), that Anastasia-ish Hobbit story, a Regency Era AU for them too (but specifically Emma) and a story I've turned around for literally years now where Thorin died before the quest so Fili becomes king in exile and pretty much laughs Gandalf out of the room when he tries to convince him to reclaim Erebor (he's got a LOT to deal with emotionally okay, he's not got time for that) so they have to go and like try and kill Smaug in the middle of the War of the Ring instead.

And those are just the ones off the top of my head.

17. I think the most important thing as a writer is give yourself some grace. I try and write every week, but like I went on a trip and then I've been too exhausted since I got back, so it's been 2 weeks now with no writing for me. And frankly, I'm still feeling really wiped out so it's more like, if you're not feeling it, it's okay to take a break. Drink some tea, read a book, let it all peculate in the back of your head for a while. Try to do some things that inspire you, like for me it's reading history, or taking walks outside or going to museums, basically just learning new things. See some friends. Spend time with people. And then come back and see if that all triggered something. We forget writers block is often a systematic issue, like we're too tired or burned out or whatever, and it's about reinvigorating your creativity. And understanding and giving yourself the time. And if you're just exhausted by life well, unfortunately, maybe it's about trying to make those bigger changes, or accepting this will be a period where you plant some clover on the field of your creativity and let it lay fallow for a season or two. It will be there when you're ready again.

20. I mean, over the years I've written some wildly different things but yes, hahaha, very much yes. My favorite conflict is duty vs desire, I'm a sucker for loyalty, I'm a sucker for little shits that just don't stop, I'm a fan of knock-down, drag out street fighters, and if you leave me alone long enough, I will manifest a revolution into basically any setting. I like characters who are competent and don't give up, but who are human and make mistakes and fuck things up and keep going anyway, despite the fuck ups and danger and road blocks in front of them. I like when people feel things very deeply, but maybe aren't very good at talking about it or dealing with it, but always know they loved first and foremost, but sometimes it wasn't enough, and sometimes they did terrible things for it. I like imbuing the every day with intense feelings, be that ships or robots or undead horses or flower crowns. And I will probably try and make you cry at some point.

22. Hm. Yes and no? I have written things that I would never have expected, and I have written a LOT of stuff over the years on what are essentially dares. And there's things I wrote before that I'm like, way less inclined to write now? Like looking back my early 20s were way more willing to play around with student/teacher relationships that now I'm like... why was I even touching that with a ten foot pole? I also really really really hate pregnancy and will probably never write that into any story with any degree of detail. I'm not saying people won't have kids, but I'm not gonna be dealing with it.

So I'll write anything, as long as I can make it work for me. But it might not be in a way that like, other people expect or like.

28. On days I write I aim for 4ish pages, single spaced, 11/12 font. On really good days I can do 8 pages. On really good days I can do 20. I do not usually aim for that though. 4 is quite manageable for me on one go. (And as you'll see in the answer below on my editing, that's usually the length my chapters are. I know some people like to complain about my chapters being ~too short~ but honestly I don't want to hear it. On a good weekend you're getting 8 pages of writing if I write both days, and while some would probably prefer me waiting until my chapters are at 8 pages instead of 4, the reality is if I wait for it to be that long I will start spiraling mentally on myself and if it's good enough, so it's actually much faster for me to post the smaller chunks than deal with that. I'm a post or die person, and isn't that better than not getting anything at all?)

29/47. ... Hm.

Yeah I don't really edit. My editing process is usually to do one read through before posting (Unless I'm feeling like a scene is not working at all, in which case I may go back and rework it while halfway through and change things to make it work. But if I have to do that more than 2 or 3 times I will delete the whole thing and start again). I will try and grab typos and make sure things are working, then I will post. Once posted I try to do another read through on a typo hunt, but sometimes I don't get to that for another day or two, depending on when I post it.

40. I mean, there are always so many images while writing that make me go this would be really fun as an art haha.

I would love the scene in chapter 7 of covet not the feel of gold or taste of blood of Kili just sorta losing it. Or Fili, poor lad, covered in gold.

I'd love Dick in his magic shop from trust not in the darkness, trust in my outstretched hand, or the cabin covered in candles and the snow. I tried to work on my settings a bit more in that one.

I love any time someone draws Dick and Jason and the bike from find the sun in the corners of shadows.

I would love to see Mahanon and Sonja in art together. That would probably make me cry.

But honestly I would not really care. Like any fanart is a gift that makes me so emotional any time it happens. I understand why commissions etc exist, but I feel like the idea of sharing gifts in fandom used to be stronger than it is now. And that does make me a little sad. But it still happens and every time is worth treasuring.

53. I'm more of a writer, but lately I've been reading a lot of fics again. (Stranger Things got to me). But I also read a bunch of non fanfiction things, so I go through seasons of reading fic or not. But I almost always am writing, so I'd say majority writer, but when I read I do lose it.

55. I mean, the classics at this point are Fili and Dick and Mahanon probably. I am a sucker for someone who has every reason to hate the world and chooses instead love, belief, compassion, or in Fili's case, simple fucking survival haha. And no, I don't really care about people's reactions to certain characters. If I did I would have less plans for Gaspard in the forest is dark and deep. (Every time he shows people yell at me about how much they hate him and I'm like oh well, you're going to have to keep dealing with him anyway <3)

Honestly I only seem to chose popular characters by chance, and sometimes don't really care about the fandom reading on them (Fanon Dick Grayson my beloathed). I don't mean this in a "I'm not like other girls" way, I just know I'm contrary at best, and don't really care for the whims of popular fandom. I do what I want, and I have gotten yelled at for it by readers, and not in a good squee-yelling sort of way.

Unless you mean, swayed by readers/follower's opinions in a "I will never write this again as long as I live" way in which case yes, I did actually drop a whole ship because the readers were so mean about it and it killed all joy I ever felt in those characters together. And it was Tony Stark/Loki back in the 2012 era. That was the worst experience in fandom I ever had, you will always be legendary to me for all the wrong reasons.

60. Yes! Actually I commented on their work and they went wait, aren't you the one who wrote xxx? And I was like oh, yes, that is me, and we went from there. And then we became fandom friends lol. It is always a very kind, warm feeling to realize people have read your stuff, especially when you know they've got good tastes in their own work lol.

65. Listen, listen, I'm so excited for where ancient sea is going, the fact my brain is refusing to write it is driving me crazy. I want Hawke to meet Bianca! For the temple of Dirth to be a total shit show!!! the Forbidden Oasis being EVEN WORSE! I want my boi Abelas to show, I want things in Orlais to get batshit insane while Mahanon goes "whoops" I am dying for the assassins from Josie's personal mission to show up while Mahanon is on a hair trigger on that issue (especially! Josie! After! Wycome! holy shit). I want Gaspard to show up and be really annoying for like many different things while Mahanon keeps wishing he killed him while he had the chance (real "I should have left you on that streetcorner where I found you" "But you didn't!" vibes). I want for them to try and start breaking Mahanon and his symbols down and for him and his to rebuilt something new from the ashes.

On the other hand I also want to keep trucking in Covet because I'm really excited about some of the stuff there too, and getting to the point where I can start posting some of the side story stuff I've been writing to keep myself sane in the main story lol. (I've got like a whole 13 pages of Nori POV that came out of a fucking joke to someone that I can't post yet and now I'm mad about it lol).

[rupertgayesarchive]

So I'm just getting started writing Supernatural fic. I've written a lot for other fandoms, but right off the bat, I'm noticing that the reader vibe is VERY different than what I'm used to. I'm just not getting the feedback and interaction that I've received in other fandoms. I write for me, but it's hard to not feel discouraged with such a stark difference. I'm wondering if it's a decline in Supernatural in general, getting lost in AO3 postings, or not being in the right tumblr circles or Discords.

Since I'm a huge fan of your work, and you have a decent following, I'm wondering if you have any thoughts on the Supernatural fanfic ecosystem as a whole. How and where do you promo your work? How do you connect with other fans in the community? Is it possible to make those connections as a relative newcomer to the fandom or are the cliques pretty well closed off?

Hi there! Let me say off the bat that you can feel free to come off anon and be mutuals with me, I have the same username everywhere, and always love to meet new spn fans :)

Onto your actual question - I think while spn isn't as popular now as it was in the early 2010s (when I was first in the fandom, the superwholock thing, you know) and right when it ended in late 2020, it's still a HUGE fandom, and yeah, stuff is going to get lost in the shuffle. I'm not saying my own following is a fluke, but I think I got lucky! I hopped back into spn right during the post-finale peak in fandom activity, and a lot of readers in this fandom tend to appreciate long (sometimes insanely long) fics, and here I was, writing a finale fix-it that was getting updated 2-3 times a week, so you had a lot more people on the destiel AO3 tag, probably wanting something to fix their finale related blues, and they were seeing my story over and over again, and it got really long, and... yeah. When I was writing fic in spn during the early 2010s, I was not getting NEARLY as much attention. At all. I'd like to think I improved as a writer, but I think I also just got into the fandom at the right time.

One thing that actually did help me a lot though was getting active on tiktok. I posted a funny comment someone had posted on hfym, people asked what the fic was, and then I started picking up a lot of momentum on there while talking about the fic. I think there's also something to be said about readers being able to put a name and face to the fics they love. As I started making spn-related videos, I'd follow/comment/like other spn accounts, and as my follower account grew I noticed a lot of those accounts were following me back.

I also started listening to spn podcasts, and following their tiktoks, and found out that they just did open applications to be a guest on their podcasts. I don't know if that cross promotion necessarily helped people find my work, but it really surprised me how much more interactive people were on tiktok versus my previous fandom experiences on tumblr!

And yes, I do promote my fics on here, twitter, tiktok, but again, way more enthusiasm is coming out of tiktok right now, and I personally hopped over onto twitter to have more conversations with the friends I made through tiktok (though with Elon now owning twitter, it's possible we'll see a migration back to tumblr)

That being said... I have a lot of interactions on my fics, but I wouldn't label myself as a big name fan. I've never done well in big discord groups and prefer to have a handful of people I can have one on one conversations with.

As for the fics, I think there's room for everything to do well - aus, canon compliant, whatever. It could be adding in more tags, the summary, I'm sure you know all about that though as this isn't your first rodeo. I do think there's something for having a multi-chapter fic that has updates once a week or more, though. really cannot understate how much spn readers want to just read war and peace length gay nonsense.

This is also me but I never enter into fandom challenge stuff because I find it stressful and I think everyone is releasing their fics at the same time, and stuff does get lost in the shuffle then.

Anyway a list of actual? Advice:

make sure the titles/tags/summary are fun and engaging I'm sure you know that already

try tiktok, like honestly, find some #spn hashtags to use and make some random videos with your hot takes and follow other spn people. make some videos about your fics, too, but mainly just launch into spn fandom full on, have fun with it, repurpose trending audio with lame spn jokes. (again! follower count wise compared to other spn accounts it's nothing to write home about on any platform, but i now have a solid base of people who like my stuff so that's what matters)

try building up your little spn network, comment on their videos, follow them off of tiktok and on twitter/tumblr, leave comments on their fics, over time people start interacting with you in the same way. most people i've met on there are so sweet and if you mutually follow each other literally just message them and say hi we're all nerds and we love it.

try taking a look at what people want to read (if you want to write that way, i got lucky that what i wanted to write was what people wanted to read), or find fun niches that you like to write for. demon!dean, monsterfucking, fluffy bunker nonsense, found family, whatever!!

definitely ask (nicely) for people to comment on your fic in author's notes, i've definitely been swayed by a nice message thanking the reader/asking for comments before

i'm in a few discord groups, so again, if you like you can DM me and i'll send you the links! i'm better at one on one, but some people have great luck with larger groups.

Okay good luck bestie ily <3

[cophene]

epilogue || ✦.⁺ an email from the chancellor.

author's note || table of contents

pairing : vento aureo x gn reader summary : a college student tries getting the attention of some of the most admired and attractive people on campus, only to get caught up with stands and vigilante groups in the process. notes : modern au, multi-chapter fic, sfw, doesn't follow canon plot word count : 3.1k+

═ ☆. IT TOOK THEM A WHILE to find the chancellor's office. (Y/n) had never had occasion to visit this part of the university after the initial tour, so it almost felt like a completely different building. Sapiena was stylishly modern, and the chancellor's office was no exception. Office of the Chancellor was stamped on the glass door in small block text, beyond which (y/n) could make out dark carpeting and sleek wooden furniture. It was brightly lit, inviting, even. Yet (y/n)'s stomach would not stop twisting itself into knots.

They had received an email from the chancellor himself that morning.

Buon giorno,

I am writing to you in light of the recent events that have occurred both on Sapiena's campus and in the nearby area. I believe it would be in your best interest if we could meet to discuss these matters. Given the nature of these events, I trust I will have your discretion about this meeting. I would prefer to not worry the student body unless absolutely necessary. Things must be kept running smoothly, after all. Such a university such as Sapiena cannot afford to take these things lightly.

I hope to see you promptly in my office at 10 o'clock this morning.

Regards,

Chancellor

University of Sapiena

The chancellor hadn't signed with his name, which was odd. (Y/n) couldn't check the email to see if anyone else had received the email. It was part of the reason why they were so nervous. They weren't sure what they would say if this meeting was only between them and the chancellor. Not only did they know nothing about the man, how were they supposed to explain Stands and Signor D and the convoluted plan that they'd participated in?

Could they be expelled for this? It was likely. Sapiena was a prestigious university. (Y/n) wouldn't put it past them if they thought (y/n) was harming their reputation in some way. It certainly wouldn't look good if Sapiena became known for being the university with the "weird spirits".

They should have written a script. Made notes. Something. (Y/n) was going to the chancellor's office with virtually no idea what to say.

Would the truth be good enough?

"Bruno?" (Y/n) noticed him making his way toward the office. They felt relieved, but then realized Bruno might just be passing through.

"Hey." Bruno glanced at the lettering on the glass window, then back at (y/n). His lips thinned. "Did you get an email from the chancellor this morning?"

(Y/n) nodded. "You too?"

"Yeah. I didn't know what he was talking about until I realized."

"It doesn't make sense," (y/n) said. "It's been over a month since everything went down. Why does he want to talk to us now?"

"I don't know. I tried to think of a good way to explain everything on my way up here, but everything sounds ridiculous."

"Oh no, not you guys too." Mista rounded the corner, frowning at them. He shoved his hands in his pocket, letting out a low whistle. "Looks like we got busted."

"We didn't do anything," (y/n) said, looking between Bruno and Mista. "Not really."

"The punishment might be less severe if we all just admit to it," said Mista. His voice was light, but his face was tense with worry.

"We could be expelled," said Bruno in a low voice.

"Nobody is getting expelled."

Everyone turned to the fourth voice. Giorno's back and shoulders were straight. He walked purposefully towards them.

"We did nothing wrong. If anything, we saved the student body and my father from a serious threat. The chancellor has to understand that."

"How will he understand Stands?" (y/n) asked. "It's not like we can whip them out to show him."

"It'll be fine," Giorno said. He sounded enviously calm. "We'll only tell him what he wants to know. Stands don't have to be mentioned at all."

"This is gonna be bad," Mista groaned, squashing his hat down over his eyes. "Why don't you ask your dad to pay the chancellor under the table or something, Giorno?"

Bruno narrowed his eyes. "You know that's illegal, right?"

"Okay, but who's gonna go up against the Chief Prosecutor in court?"

"I'm telling you, everything will be fine," Giorno insisted. He wrinkled his brow. "The frst step to convincing someone you're innocent is believing it yourself."

Bruno sighed. He reached up a hand to enter the office.

"Woah, hang on a second," Mista squawked. "Are we really going in? Right now?"

"Why else are we standing around here?"

"We need to wait," Mista said, as though it were obvious. "Look how many of us there are. We go in now, and we'll definitely be expelled."

"Have a little faith, Mista," Giorno said to the ceiling.

"Mista's right," (y/n) said. "If the chancellor wants to talk to us about the Signor D debacle, shouldn't everyone else be here? Trish? Fugo, Narancia and Risotto?" (Y/n) had nearly forgotten Trish was the chancellor's daughter until just then. Having her at the meeting might have swayed the chancellor in their favour.

Bruno glanced at his wristwatch. "If they got the email, they should've been here by now. It's five minutes to ten."

"If only Trish were here," Mista groaned, "At least she'd be able to talk to her dad or something."

Almost as though she had been summoned, Trish appeared. She looked like she had just rolled out of bed, her hair rumpled and wearing sweats and a t-shirt. She did a double-take at the sight of them.

"Wait, what are you guys doing here?"

"We're saved!" Mista tried to throw his arms around Trish, but missed when she sidestepped.

"What's going on?"

"You didn't get the email?" (y/n) asked.

"No. My dad just called and told me to come right away." Trish frowned. "He never calls."

"Your dad emailed all of us this morning asking to meet him. He wanted to talk about ... well, everything we did, I guess," said Giorno.

"Did you say something to him?" asked Bruno.

Trish shook her head. "I didn't tell him anything. He might have heard about the students being harassed, but I don't know how he would know about everything else."

"You're not gonna let your dad expel us, right?" Mista said.

"Of course not. Don't worry. I'll make sure to clear this up with him."

With that, Trish turned and pushed the office door open, everyone following after her. The secretary seemed to know exactly what they were there for, because she gestured to the first door down the right.

Despite themself, (y/n) was secretly glad they weren't alone on this. They didn't know if the chancellor even cared about the self-proclaimed Sapiena elites, but there had to be a little sway with the four of them. Certainly more than if (y/n) had gone in themself. After all, these were four of the brightest and charismatic students of the university.

Trish didn't even bother knocking. She opened the door forcefully, her mouth already open to begin her argument.

She shut it quickly in confusion.

The chancellor's desk was backlit by the light coming in through large windows, affording the room with a perfect view of the pristine lawns outside. To the side was a set of navy armchairs positioned around a low table. (Y/n)'s eyes went not to the chancellor, but to the golden-haired man perched in one of the armchairs.

"What are you doing here?" Giorno asked sharply.

Dio quirked an eyebrow. "Good morning to you, as well."

"Oh, we're definitely screwed," Mista muttered to (y/n). "The chancellor even got Giorno's dad in here to do the paperwork." Never mind the fact that he'd been asking for Dio to be there just a few minutes ago.

The chancellor cleared his throat from his desk. In unspoken agreement, the (y/n) and the others lined up in front of him.

"Buon giorno, Signor Chancellor."

The chancellor nodded once. (Y/n) had never given thought to what he might have looked like. His hair was a touch darker than Trish's, black patches of colour running through the strands. He wasn't unattractive, but there was a very deliberate way he seemed to set his mouth and eyes.

His eyes. There was something about them.

"How are you all?" he asked. His voice was quiet, pleasant enough.

"I'd be better if I weren't here," Mista grumbled, and Trish glared at him.

"I believe you all know why you are here," the chancellor said. "Given that, I also believe you know we do not take misconduct of any kind lightly here at Sapiena. If there happened to be an instance of—"

"And you accuse me of prattling on, Diavolo," Dio said from his seat. (Y/n) wasn't sure if that happened to actually be the chancellor's name, or if it was just a nickname.

Giorno's father rose and made his way over. He put one hand on Giorno's shoulder and leaned towards all of them conspiratorially.

"Let's get one thing straight before anything else. No one is getting expelled. The tension in this room is suffocating. You have my apologies; the chancellor here has never been good with people. Relax. Have a seat. Does anyone want anything to drink?"

No one relaxed. If anything, (y/n) felt even more nervous, because if they weren't here on grounds of expulsion, then what?

Giorno looked like he wanted to wrench his shoulder out of his father's hand. "What are we here for, then? What are you doing here?"

"Your father and I are aware of what you have been doing these past few weeks," said Diavolo. There was the slightest hint of irritation when he glanced at Dio. "We know about the lighter and how you used it to create a few dozen Stand users. Some more competent than others."

Dio whisked out said lighter from his suit pocket and placed it on the desk. Trish gaped at it, then looked at her father. "How did you get that? And Stands? Does that mean you have one too?"

"The lighter belonged to me, did you forget?" Dio asked. "And of course your father has a Stand. It's one of the reasons he allowed all to go on for as long as you did."

(Y/n) was only faintly surprised at this revelation. Somehow, they had been expecting that.

"Your little vigilante group was impressive," said Dio. He moved away from Giorno and sat on the corner of the chancellor's desk. Strangely enough, he seemed to dominate the office more than Diavolo did. "It was honourable of you to go up against those wayward students—who have been suspended, by the way. And then throwing yourself headfirst into the mystery that was Signor D. Very well done. All without help from authorities. You showed exceptional resourcefulness and determination, not to mention intrepidity."

(Y/n) didn't quite like the tone Dio was using with them. He sounded like he was praising a group of schoolkids for behaving themselves on a field trip.

"Have there been any further problems with him, signore?" Bruno asked politely.

Dio smiled, showing all of his teeth.

"Why don't you ask him yourself?"

It went quiet enough to hear the clock ticking on the wall.

Ask him yourself?

"Wait, are you saying ..." Mista looked around the room. He swallowed, looking like he wanted someone else to say his realization.

"Are you saying the chancellor is Signor D?"

Trish barked out a laugh. "Don't joke about this, Mista."

"That's precisely what Signor Brando is saying," said Diavolo.

(Y/n) snapped their gaze toward him. His eyes were a piercing lime-green, the irises pierced through with an unusual triangle. They had seen those eyes before.

On Moody Blues' playback.

"You were the one Sale and Zucchero met with," Giorno said. "You were the one Abbacchio followed to the restaurant."

The missing students. It had to have been a faculty member.

The room was spinning slightly. (Y/n) closed their eyes briefly.

Mista's hand went to his hidden revolver holster. "Please excuse my language, but what the hell is going on here? The chancellor of Sapiena and Singor D are one and the same? How is that possible? And if it is, why are you just sitting there and smiling, Signor Brando? Didn't he try to kill you?" Mista took a step forward. "Didn't he try to kill all of us?"

Diavolo tilted his head. Dio chuckled.

"See? I told you it would work."

Bruno took a step back, pressing closer to (y/n). Trish was staring at her father, her mouth slightly open. Giorno's face had pulled into a blank slate.

"Please explain," (y/n) whispered.

Dio braced his hands behind him and leaned back. He looked at each of the students in turn.

"Diavolo and I are members of the Speedwagon Foundation. I'm sure you've heard of it. They're responsible for numerous advancements in medicine, science and archeology. Recently, they found it necessary to create a branch dedicated to matters of the supernatural. Things were happening. Inexplicable, bizarre things that couldn't be handled by police and military."

(Y/n) was barely breathing. Their throat felt like sandpaper.

Diavolo continued the thread. "Several reports of individuals with powerful abilities began to surface. Most couldn't see them, but a select few reported seeing "spirits" standing behind those people. Thus, those abilities were named Stands. It didn't take long for the Speedwagon Foundation to find the connection between the appearance of Stands and the supernatural activity.

"The theory put forward was that there was a sudden increase in spiritual and physical energy in the world. It caused an imbalance. Individuals are gaining Stands as their body tries to adapt to the shift and while the world tries to right that shift, things are happening that shouldn't. Dio and I were entrusted with Black Sabbath's lighter and a very important task from the Foundation. We were to use the lighter to create more Stand users and observe their effect on other humans and the environment."

"You were going to experiment on us," said Giorno flatly.

"I assure you all participants would have been volunteers that we screened and tested beforehand," Dio said dismissively. "But then you happened to steal the lighter."

"That you just left lying around."

"I don't recall things in my office being free for your taking."

"You didn't ask for it back."

"Because we realized there was no need to. You were doing our assignment for us. You passed the lighter around, giving us room to study the individuals who gained a Stand and those who didn't. Weekly reports were required of us, which is where students like Zucchero and Sale came in. We would've chosen others, had we known about their unsavoury nature, but for a time, they were effective in telling us what we needed to know. I used your same explanation for my report a few months ago—how Stands are a manifestation of the soul and spiritual energy. Brilliantly perceptive on your part."

"But there were students who disappeared," said Bruno.

Diavolo shrugged. "They didn't disappear. They're fine and accounted for. A few of them happened to be Stand users, but mostly, they were students we thought would be valuable assets and recruited for the Foundation. It had to be kept discreet, since the supernatural branch is a point of contention amongst members. Many consider it a contradiction to everything the Foundation stands for."

"Then what was that whole mess with Signor D?" Mista demanded. "Why did you make up that story about him wanting to kill you? Who was that guy we killed?"

Dio narrowed his eyes. "That was Signor Carne. He was a legitimate threat we had to deal with."

"He was a former associate before he suddenly turned against us," Diavolo added. "It's hard to say why. Perhaps he simply resents our position. At any rate, we had been receiving threats from him for a while. We knew for a fact he would strike at the fundraiser and wanted to minimize harm. Since you were already looking for someone to mastermind this entire thing, it wasn't difficult to convince you it was him."

"You have Stands," said Giorno. "Why didn't you use them to protect yourself?"

Diavolo and Dio exchanged a glance.

"We didn't have luck when we received our Stands," answered Diavolo, and something in his voice was carefully measured. "Our Stands are quite weak. Their abilities were laughable against Notorious B.I.G."

(Y/n)'s mind was reeling. They had managed to do exactly what Signor Diavolo and Signor Dio had wanted, even when it had all been built on misunderstandings and conceptions. Their entire story had been wrong from the get-go. Even though all of this was being dropped on them like a tub of ice water, it made perfect, crystal sense. Only men like these two could have the resources and influence to pull this off for as long as they had without anyone suspecting.

"Why tell us all of this?" Trish asked. "You didn't need to. We already did everything."

"We needed to tell you, first of all, to stop using Black Sabbath." Dio palmed the lighter and slipped it away. "The Foundation wasn't too pleased that I allowed my son temporary possession of it. They approve of our findings, but that is to be done with better procedures and rules from now on."

"Fair enough," (y/n) muttered. They had thought that from the beginning.

"Second, we're tired of working from the shadows. It will be much easier if we collaborate with each other and pool our resources. No more sneaking around. You all would be a great help if you agreed to work with us."

"Work with you," Giorno echoed, his tone slightly mocking.

"Eventually, you might be considered potential recruits for the Foundation. They love ingenious young people such as yourselves. And they pay very well," Dio added.

"There's also a favour we have to ask," said Diavolo quietly.

(Y/n)'s heart flipped. "What is it?"

"The Foundation recently sent us an assignment they want to complete promptly. Apparently, there are rumours of another Stand Arrow in Roma, under possession of an unknown individual."

"There are more of those things?" said Mista.

"It would seem so. The Foundation would like to retrieve it for research. As well, to make sure nothing reckless is done to civilians."

"Diavolo and I wouldn't hesitate to go if we weren't otherwise occupied. But, as it stands, it's not possible. Fortunately, the Foundation has given us permission to send a small group of Stands users in our stead."

Bruno wrinkled his brow. "You want us to go to Roma to retrieve this other Stand arrow?"

"You love things said bluntly, don't you? Yes, that's what we're asking. It's merely a request, but from what we have garnered, you seem to be the most capable. You'll be paid, of course, in case that was a concern, and excused from all your classes. Honestly, it should be a lovely vacation for you."

Somehow, (y/n) doubted that.

The group went quiet as they thought this over. Who knew, really, what this trip to Roma would lead to? If they encountered another Stand like Notorious ...

(Y/n) peered discreetly around at the group, trying to gauge their reactions. Mista's hand was still at his holster, his mind obviously trying to sift through this information behind his furrowed eyebrows. Bruno's eyes were on the carpet, his mouth tightened at the corners. Trish's gaze flitted between her father and Dio, the confusion on her face just shy of fear.

And Giorno's face was as still as a quiet lake. He would be taking this the hardest, knowing all of his efforts to organize a group of Stand users to protect Naples hadn't even been under his control. There was a hard glint in his eye. Likely the chancellor was the only thing preventing him from leaping at Dio.

For the strangest reason, time seemed to jump forward the tiniest bit. They hadn't seen him move, but suddenly Dio was standing by Diavolo's chair, a hand extended. A gleaming badge rested on his palm with the words Speedwagon Foundation etched neatly on the golden wheel.

"Well?" Dio prompted.

"What do you say?"

 pseumino fin.

─────

© cophene 2022

author's note || table of contents

[yeoldontknow]

დ content tag game დ

tagged by the loveliest angel @augustbutwinter to do this fun tag. thank you so much my love! 

1. what fandoms have you written for (but do not currently)?  - harry potter, muse, merlin, supernatural, doctor who, sherlock

2. what fandoms are you currently writing for? - kpop only

3. how long have you been writing? on this blog?  - my first actual fanfic would have been when i was about 8? it was for sailor moon but it was literally only in a journal i had. i presume that counts. so that would put us at 24 years lmao - on this blog specifically, since april 2017

4. on which platforms do you post your stories?  - here and AO3

5. what is your favourite genre to write? - aaaaangst lmao and horror/suspense. i love really dark things, and have always had a fascination in writing things that disturb me? i think its from an analytical or psychological perspective, exploring the limits of humanity and processing for myself why these things make me uncomfortable/where i feel them on my body/what is fear vs disgust idk. also very much enjoy fantasy/supernatural. 

6. are you a pantser or a planner? - almost always i have a plan, however there are some fics that come out of nowhere and i just have to write them. examples of this are enough and love; always

7. one shot or multi-chapter? - i usually try very hard to keep things as a one shot, and reserve series for things that actually have substance enough to extend past 3 chapters. lately, all my ideas have been very plot heavy or come from worlds i am very interested in exploring and/or have aspects of emotion i want to work through. if i cant keep it to a one shot (like...under 30k) i will make it a series and ill be angry at myself lmao

8. what is the perfect chapter length in your opinion?  - anywhere from 5-9k is a solid, average chapter length for me. some chapters, in hero for example, need to be more than this because theyre the heavy plot chapters. i have been trying not to focus on lengths anymore, just want to write until the story is told

9. what is your longest published story? is it complete?  - the longest story ive ever written is 154k in a different fandom and yes its complete. at the moment, hero is breaching 98k and i imagine it will be my longest when its completed

10. which story did you enjoy working on the most?  - when it comes to series, hero and time runner will, and always will be, the most special things ive ever done. i feel at home and myself when im writing them. im in love with writing them. the ideas are so strong, and the characters are so loud and clearly defined it just is the best time making art ive ever had. - for one shots, light sakura was truly catharsis. i needed to write that. its the most personal, vulnerable thing ive ever written and will probably never produce something like that again unless theres another major event in my life. also absolutely adored writing molotov cocktail and empty vessels. those are both the easiest 30k ive ever produced

11. favourite request you’ve have written and why (if any?)  - brooklyn is burning was technically a request and im extremely partial to it

12. are there reoccurring themes in your stories?  - oh yeah. usually my female characters are working through bad relationships or finding their voices, seeking identity and power in worlds that dont necessarily provide that. i write what i feel and what ive lived, the worlds around the characters are just exaggerations of reality and my imagination. theres always a little piece of me in my stories, and usually that piece comes down to them learning to trust which is something i struggle with

13. current number of wips?  - please i cannot share this number, not when im ashamed of the amount lmao

14. three things you have noticed about your own writing? 1. smut is insanely hard for me 2. fluff is almost impossible, and could be considered my weakness. happiness is an external feeling, an outward experience. im a very bodied writer and finding joy or finding small bits of romance is difficult (largely because i live alone) so i will over explain aspects of the idol character or highlight small actions in the effort of holding onto them 3. i am still learning to trust the process

15. a quote you like from a published story.

‘Don’t confuse loyalty with strength,’ you say, as he releases you. You remain still, forehead pressing against the bars to get as close to him as possible. ‘I have no allegiance to you. My silence is not owed to you.’

‘Really?’ he says with disdain. ‘It was given so freely the last two days.’

‘Your ignorance proves you have never truly known a woman,’ you taunt. ‘We are always at war, even if we are silent.’

- from: hero - chapter 3

16. a quote from an unpublished story.

Would it have been easier for you both to survive if you could be a needy, fragile little thing - not ready to die, not ready to leave him on his own?

The night before, Chanyeol held you close, kissed you until your throat felt raw, and made you realize he didn’t want it, didn’t need it. He loved the war in you, handled you like a blade between his fingers, skin unmarred by your sharp edges. He didn’t want it, but you wanted it, at least a little. You wanted him to know there were still traces inside you of the girl you lost.

from: time runner - chapter 7

17. space for you to say something to your readers.

hello beautiful loves. every moment you even click on one of my works an angel gets its wings <3

tagging: @yehet-me-up @kyungseokie @jenmyeons @j-pping @jamaisjoons @yoonia @kithtaehyung @inkedtae @kookdiaries @kookingtae @xiaokoo @sunshinekims @biaswreckingfics @ditzymax @sugaurora @bangtanhome @yeojaa @sahmfanficbts @xjoonchildx @writtenwhalien @jinpanman @cutechim and anyone else who would like to do this <3 as always please only do so if comfy! 

[puppy-phum]

Fic Writer Interview Meme

thank you for tagging me @hils79 ♥ this is a great way to avoid writing my pingxie wing au which i currently struggle with bc am editing it into a completely new shape :D it’s exhausting but am making slow progress~

name: vish or vishie. won’t even advertise my irl name when it comes to fic writing haha

fandoms: so many more than i’ve ever gotten to write for. i am simply very slow at writing and the stuff i get into is way too many so... yeah. the most i’ve written for are BTS, The Untamed and now DMBJ. the list for fandoms i’d love to write for is endless but currently at least Guardian is very high up there. i keep having ideas but writing? not as much. 

two-shot: i wrote this one two-shot back when i was still writing fanfics in finnish for this one youtuber group lol. it was supposed to be a oneshot but it got super sad so i made it happier with a continuation later on. 

most popular multi-chapter fic: uuhh i’d say it’s my BTS abo fic My Lungs for You to Breathe which is currently at 98k words and 18 chapters but which i haven’t updated in almost a year :D idk if it will ever get to the end but i have enjoyed spending time with it. (Statistics:  Subscriptions: 227 Hits: 11718 Kudos: 461 Comment Threads: 89 Bookmarks: 153) 

actual worst part of writing: uuuhhh it’s so hard to name one currently? trying to get things out like i want them to and still sounding coherent? figuring out words that sound good but also make sense? idk. i love writing but these days i’ve been very stuck and insecure about it :/

how you choose your titles: i throw in words. i throw in more words. i stir. ta-da!

do you outline: i have not outlined on paper ever in my life. in my head tho? yes, absolutely. i am just too lazy and awkward to write it down. then i forget. oops. or then i don’t forget and get haunted or possessed, there’s no in between. 

ideas you probably won’t get around to, but wouldn’t it be nice: this one historical au for Guardian which would also include some reincarnation themes. it would require a ton of research so am a bit scared. also, a DMBJ cultivator au just so that i could have pingxie and heihua meet in very different circumstances and have them use cool magic stuff. plus all the other characters having neat stories and skills and outfits. me and @ashenlights are throwing around a ton of ideas probably every day and have a docs file and some pins on pinterest etc :’D i will never probably actually write this bc it would get way too huge but the brainstorming is nice ♥ also i have this one pingxie reincarnation/soulmates au that haunts me currently but idk if i will have the motivation to write that. 

and then my personal favorite: a fic for The Journey Across the Night where i get to explore the main trio’s relationship developing throughout the series (and probably even after that) while each of them slowly figures out how much they love the other two. first part would be shi cheng who first watches chacha and li jia having a crush on each other meanwhile he ignores any of his own feelings towards li jia and what he’s doing to distract himself from that. second part would be chacha who notices shi cheng’s feelings for li jia and tries to figure out how she will take that while maintaining her own developing relationship with li jia plus her family problems. last part would be li jia who follows chacha and shi cheng going from friends to something else. he doesn’t understand. he has a lot of other stuff in his mind. there’s his alter making his first appearance. he might or might not be in love with both of his friends but needs a tiny nudge to get it, especially with shi cheng. i lack the skill and words to accomplish any of this so i just like to daydream. 

callouts @ me: actually the same as for you hils, that’s a good call out :’D i really should try some female characters once in a while. but they have slowly come a part of my stories at least? another one would be: pls for the love of god learn more vocabulary. and ways to form sentences. and like,,, stop editing those sentences so much, they’re fine. 

best writing traits: uuuhhh can i just skip this? these days it’s not easy to find anything positive to say about my own writing or my process with it. i am a mess. some stuff makes sense, a big part does not. maybe emotion but i feel like i cannot manage that either in a way that would satisfy me? persistence works too. i rarely abandon things completely. 

spicy tangential opinion: um. yours was very good hils, that made me so happy ^^ i should really try not to pressure myself to be perfect either just for the acknowledgement etc. this is a hobby yes and should be fun. which it is. but i struggle still sigh. idk what else to add really? write whatever you like. write those themes that you want to see. write the characters you want to see written in the way only you feel about them. write that pairing no one else has written. write for the fandom that doesn’t even show up on ao3. write for yourself, truly. write for your tiny group of friends who yell at you and are lovely and as crazy as you ♥ enjoy the process despite it being awful at times. writing is learning but also, don’t only just pressure yourself to improve with every sentence you write. i tend to do that a lot bc am so desperate to be better but i cannot force that into me. i gain experience slowly and learn at my own pace. i need to allow myself that. and sometimes i just need to allow myself to write whatever and have fun with it and not think about how much sense everything makes or if the characterization is 150% perfect. thanks for coming to my ted talk haha 

this was so nice :’) it’s sometimes nice to think about myself as a writer and then come up with things that i should take note of more often. i hope to write so much. i have so many ideas. my heart is filled with love for some many things. praying for all the time and inspiration for myself and all of my writer friends ♥

tagging only @i-am-just-a-kiddo if they wish to join me on this one :’) also tagging @kholran who was calling for everyone in their own post! that one was so nice to read too ^^  

[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

[loversung]

(◕ᴥ◕) fanfic writers tag game!

tagged by: @dhoya thank u <3 although i don’t write near enough 😭

tagging: umm idk @byeongsung @cobbae @nari-nim and any writer friends/followers who wanna do it <3 no pressure though my beloveds i just don’t have many writer friends lmfao

what fandoms have you written for (but do not currently)?

i’m embarrassed to say i used to write fanfiction for people like justin bieber, shawn mendes, austin mahone, and the other non-shawn magcon boys.

kpop wise i’ve written for bts, stray kids, ateez, a.c.e, victon, txt, got7, seventeen, treasure, the boyz, cravity, and enhypen. yeah, i know. don’t look at me.

what fandoms are you currently writing for?

nct 2020. they have enough members for my pea brain right now.

how long have you been writing?

for most of my life, honestly. but i started writing seriously about 7 or 8 years ago? and since then i’ve written things like plays that have actually gotten performed and shit.

on which platforms do you post your stories?

up until 2 years ago, i was a wattpad user. then i joined tumblr, and so far this is the only place i’ve posted my current pieces (thought i will likely cross post to ao3 and maybe wattpad to try to stop those thieves on those sites)

what is your favourite genre to write?

angst. anything to do with angst. i like to hurt. if i’m not choked up, sobbing while writing it, i’m not doing it right.

are you a pantser or a planner?

i try to plan, but usually i jump the gun and go straight in. once i have a vague idea of what i want to happen in a story, it’s over if i have the motivation to write it.

one shot or multi-chapter?

as of now, one shots. i want to try my hand at multi chaptered fics, though.

what is the perfect chapter length in your opinion?

i like thick stories with lots of existentialism in them. but it depends on the genre. for fluff or romance, anywhere from a couple thousand words. but for angst? break my tumblr when i try to reblog it.

what is your longest published story? is it complete?

ashamed to say that my longest oneshot is only 5.3k words ….

which story(ies) did you enjoy working on the most?

the aforementioned had a pretty spicy plot (angel vs demon) so it was quite fun to write. i might rewrite it and make it … not smut, and focus more on the tension of the enemies to lovers type thing.

i’m also enjoying working on “gimme some sugar” although i’ve run myself straight into a corner.

favourite request you’ve have written and why (if any?)

i don’t typically write requests. it’s a weird thing where if it doesn’t come from my brain i literally cannot write it.

are there reoccurring themes in your stories?

no…? i don’t think so. i don’t really write enough to count.

current number of wips?

5 confirmed, over 40 stored in the brain bank able to be released at any time.

three things you have noticed about your own writing?

i use way too many lengthy sentences.

sometimes they read like a john green novel. no hate to john green (i enjoyed stories like looking for alaska, paper towns, etc.), but it makes me feel like i have nothing special about my own writing.

my style varies depending on the mood i’m in, so there’s always inconsistencies, even if they are minor, in my full pieces that take multiple sessions to finish.

a quote you like from a published story.

i, uh, unpublished everything. whoops.

a quote from an unpublished story.

tw: death and grief mentions

Death strikes when we least expect it. We live our lives, knowing that one day, we will die, yet somehow, when the inevitable has finally approached, nobody is ever prepared. All of our lives, we live a life to leave behind—a legacy, if you will—but it’s never enough. We’re selfish and pray that the deities would grant us the wish that we and our loved ones could live forever. And when they don’t, we cry. We cry, scream, and curse them as we drop to our knees, grasping at the ground beneath us, trying to gain a sense of reality.

— “by skill and valour”

this is a space for you to say something to your readers.

i’m more thankful for you guys than you could ever know. not to get personal, because i like to keep my private details private, but writing is my preferred form of escapism. when things get hard for me, i write to distract myself. and it means a lot that you all have stuck by me and choose to read my mediocre fruits of mental illness effort. i love you all.

also, please feel free to pop up in my asks or tag me in things that make you think of me. i love interacting with you all and making friends. and if you ever need someone to talk to, juno the resident mom friend™️ or older sister™️ is here. for anything. <3

[noctisfishing]

What Do You Treasure?

Day 6 - Treasure

#noct writes taiora week 2020 [ 1 / 2 / 3 / 4 / 5 / 6 / 7 ]

@taioraweek for more Taiora love! @noctisfishing for Taiora/Digimon writings and more. :)

Setting: Digimon Adventure tri.: timeframe / Canon Divergence

Tags: Fluff, Humor

Other Characters: 01 Chosen Children and Digimon Partners

Notes: My challenge for this was to separate this prompt theme from a multi-chapter fic that I’m still working on. ;) Like a few of my other fics, I pictured everyone in high school in this one.

Basically, everyone has their own answers. ;D

~*~*~*~*~*~

“What do you treasure?”

Sora arrived home after school one afternoon with that question lingering on her mind. The teacher had posed the question to the class during a discussion about a novel in which the students were assigned to read.

“Is it an item that has some meaning to you? A place you’ve been? A friend, or a loved one? There is no wrong answer.”

When she met Piyomon in the living room and asked her, she responded right away.

“It’s you, Sora!” Piyomon leapt into Sora’s arms and nuzzled her beak against her. “Meeting you and becoming partners is the greatest treasure I could ever want.”

“Oh, Piyomon…”

Sora smiled and held her partner tightly, knowing that she felt the same way. 

She thought about calling Taichi to ask how he would respond. She already knew what she would tell him. 

But she also couldn’t help but wonder what her friends would say.

~*~*~*~*~

The moment Taichi arrived home and asked Agumon the same question, he responded without any thought.

“Hamburgers!”

“Hamburgers?” Taichi repeated.

“Can we go get some later?”

“We just had some with Sora and Piyomon the other day!”

“They’re so delicious, I could have them every day!”

Taichi laughed, shaking his head. “You sure never get tired of them.”

He went into his room to set down his school back on his desk chair, and he noticed the picture frame on his desk with his friends and their Digimon partners. Sora was standing next to him, and he remembered that the two of them were laughing together at the time the picture was taken.

He wondered if the answer was that easy to tell.

~*~*~*~*~*~

“Who do you treasure, Yamato?”

Sora with Piyomon sat on Yamato’s couch as she asked him the question. Gabumon sat in front of her, lifting his paw toward her and laughing playfully as she gently waved his paw up and down.

“Are you thinking about sensei’s question, too?” Yamato asked quietly while he tuned his bass guitar.

“Yamato might not tell you,” Gabumon added. “But you could probably make some really good guesses.”

“I’d rather you not.”

“He’ll tell us if he wants to,” Sora replied with a smile. She didn’t want to push Yamato into talking about something he was uncomfortable with.

She saw that Gabumon was eager to talk, but he kept quiet as he beamed at Yamato fiddling with warm up chords. She didn’t have to ask to know that Gabumon and music were his treasures.

Yamato paused his playing and looked as though he had just remembered something. “I was supposed to call Takeru today to help him with something.”

Both Sora and Gabumon both knew that Takeru was another one.

~*~*~*~*~*~

“I can’t just choose one pair of shoes!”

Taichi had caught Mimi on her way home as he and Agumon went for a walk.

“So, you treasure your shoes?” Taichi asked.

“My whole closet, actually. I do have a favorite dress and cute boots - oh, and just paired with the right necklace and earrings? Ah! It’s an outfit that I cannot live without!”

“Then, your treasure is something you can wear. Something, not someone.”

Mimi looked at him from the corner of her eyes in suspicion. “Why? Do you treasure someone, Taichi?”

“Well, uh…”

Taichi went red in the face the longer Mimi stared him down. He could tell that she was reading his mind.

“I don’t have to answer that!” he stammered.

“I’m sure you’ll admit it when the moment’s right,” she said with a wink. But then, she let out a giggle that sounded less mischievous. “It’s Palmon for me. And you, and all of my friends. The Digital World, too. It would be hard to deny that for any of us.”

Taichi smiled back. “That’s true.”

~*~*~*~*~*~

“Peace and quiet.”

Sora smiled with hesitation the moment Jou responded harshly to her question at his front door. “I’m sorry, Jou,” she said. “We must be bothering you.”

“Relax, Jou!” Gomamon added, jumping onto his arms. “Sora never comes here to make any trouble.”

Jou sighed, suddenly looking remorseful. “You’re right. I’m sorry, Sora. I’ve just been stressed.”

“It’s okay. Entrance exams are sure to be stressful.”

“Don’t worry,” Gomamon said with a cheerful smile. “I’ve been here to root for him when he needs it!”

“I’m sure you have been!”

“I should make you some tea! I already have the kettle going for Jou!”

Gomamon jumped off from Jou and disappeared from the door, leaving Jou to chuckle timidly. “Don’t feel like you’re intruding,” Jou told her. “Please, stay for tea. Gomamon will whine if you leave now.”

As Sora sat down at the table with Jou and waited for Gomamon, Jou had decided to answer her question.

“I don’t know where I’d be without Gomamon,” he said. “He truly is my best cheerleader.”

“I see,” replied Sora. “But I imagine ‘peace and quiet’ is still a true answer?”

“Yeah… Taichi and Agumon can test me on that. They showed up earlier and asked me the same question.”

“Oh…” Sora held her hand to her mouth to try to stop herself from laughing. “I’ll be sure to talk to him about it later.”

~*~*~*~*~*~

“My treasure?” Koushiro asked Taichi, his eyes transfixed on his computer screen as they both sat in his room.

“You know, something, or someone… that could have a special meaning to you.”

“Well, I think that’s an easy answer for me.” After clicking a few times on his computer mouse, Koushiro pushed himself away from the keyboard on his desk. “Tentomon, for one.”

“Koushiro-han…!” Tentomon replied on the side, and Taichi could swear his face was glowing redder than the shell on his body.

“And… my parents, too.”

Koushiro sat in his chair as though deep in thought.

“That makes sense, Koushiro,” Taichi assured him with a smile.

Koushiro remained quiet, but Taichi heard Tentomon clear his throat loudly and shift himself next to Agumon.

“Just try to stay away from his harddrive,” Tentomon whispered to Agumon. “He almost imploded when I nearly dropped one of it parts as he was building it…”

“Ooh, gotcha!” Agumon whispered back.

~*~*~*~

“Patamon… and Yamato, of course!” Takeru replied with a cheerful smile to Sora.

“I figured you would say that,” Sora said, giggling.

“He probably would tell me he’d never talk to me again if I told him.”

“But he would still talk to you again a minute later!” Patamon said chiming in, sitting on top of Takeru’s head.

“You must be really interested in everyone’s answers,” Takeru added.

“It’s nice to know what can make someone’s eyes light up,” replied Sora.

Patamon made a squeak, and Sora noticed that Takeru had been looking above her for a few moments.

“Has anyone asked what it is that you treasure, Sora?”

“Not yet.”

At that moment, Sora realized where Takeru and Patamon had been staring, and Sora moved her hand up to her hair, lightly running her fingers through her locks.

“Think he’ll figure it out?”

Sora laughed. “I’m sure he will.”

~~~~

“My stupid, adorable Onii-chan, of course.”

“Staaahhp,” Taichi said, pushing Hikari away from trying to pinch his cheeks. He had returned home, where she sat in the living room with Tailmon.

“This one, too.” Once Hikari stopped, she picked up Tailmon and nuzzled the top of her head.

“Is it really that easy?” Taichi asked. “Everyone responded with answers that seemed to roll off of their tongues.”

“It’s not too hard to figure out, Taichi. Even if you are afraid to say it out loud, the answer just comes to you.”

Taichi grimaced. “I didn’t say anything about being afraid.”

The doorbell rang. Hikari looked at Tailmon, and Taichi looked toward Agumon. They weren’t expecting any guests, and their parents weren’t going to arrive home until later.

Sora was at the door when Taichi answered, with Piyomon standing at her side.

“Hey, Sora,” Taichi said, finding himself happy to see her. “What brings you here?”

“Oh, well…” Sora had met eyes with him, but suddenly looked to the side with a shy smile. “I’ve been going around asking everyone a question, and I think it’s your turn.”

Taichi was taken aback. He had returned home after getting hungry, but he had planned to call Sora right after he had dinner.

He wondered if it was the same question he had been asking all afternoon. He watched her bring her hand to her hair, tucking a lock behind her ear, and then, he noticed it; a red shiny gem clipped in her hair on the side.

It was the hair clip he had given her for her birthday one year. He didn’t realize that she would keep it for so long.

He realized that that must have been something she treasured, just like how...

“I treasure you, Sora,” he said aloud. Somehow, his realization at that moment urged him to say it, and it seemed to tumble out of his mouth.

With a nervous laugh, she turned to face him again with a wider smile.

“I treasure you, too, Taichi,” she replied.

Even with the sizzle on his cheeks, he couldn’t have been happier. 

They stood face to face, suddenly laughing at each other. He knew that she had been nervous to say it, too, but he found relief knowing that saying it aloud wasn’t as hard as either of them thought, after all. 

.

.

.

.

~*~*~*~*~*~

Bonus:

Taiora brought their Digimon to a burger place and Taichi ordered the avocado burger that Mimi had told him about earlier. Mimi found out later and got upset that they went without her.

[gingyboo]

Mirror Mirror

A/N: Again many thanks to @booglebug

Description- Soulmates existed. People knew that much. Soulmates were rare, a handful in each generation, an unexplainable phenomenon that formed a bond closer than blood and more sacred than marriage.

Bucky finds his soulmate when he needs her most. Little does he know how much she needs him too.

(Soulmate au that slots pretty much in to the MCU but with soulmates. Set after TFATWS.)

Pairing- Bucky Barnes x OFC

Warnings- Mentions of violence and guns, but its mostly fluff, drama and angst.

This is a multi chaptered fic.

Please like, comment, reblog!

prologue Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7 Chapter 8

Chapter 9 Chapter 10 Chapter 11 Chapter 12 Chapter 13

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

Chapter 14

“Bucky…” she started again, Bucky held up a hand to stop her

“Don’t, please Nancy don’t.” He shook his head.”

“I am sorry though Buck.”

“Don’t be, god Nancy, I flipped in there, seeing you there, with him trying to get into your head, I couldn’t bare it.”

“You’re angry at yourself?” She asked

“You had to threaten yourself to get me to stand down.” He grabbed her, pulling her face to his. “How could I let that happen.” Nancy twisted in his grip, pressing her lips to the pulse point on his wrist. His pained expression softened slightly.

“Bucky, we got what we needed. Okay, you know what he was doing in there, you let this get between us and he wins okay. Look at me, look at us, we’re okay. We know where Kit is, the mission is complete.” Bucky met her eyes then, aquamarine bore into emerald. A shiver ran through them both and they sprung apart.

“You felt that?” He whispered, Nancy nodded. He slid his hand across to hers. The feeling was gone but Nancy felt the familiar joy of his presence.

“A soulmate thing I guess?” She responded.

“I think this thing goes deeper than either of us expected.” Bucky twirled a strand of hair through his fingers. “Shuri’s probably got some theory’s on it.”

“Maybe we should try and find out more.” She agreed.

“Yeah, probably. Do you have any idea how happy I was when I saw you looking back at me all those months ago? I knew I wasn’t alone anymore. Everything I’ve been through, the things I’ve seen, meeting you, made it seem like there was a point to it. Getting to know you, I think it was worth it.” Bucky declared.

“Bucky…” Nancy croaked. She knew what he’d told her about his past but also knew there was much more he hadn’t told her.

“Wait. I can’t give you a normal life, I want to because you deserve to be safe and secure, but trouble seems to follow me. I can only promise that I was always try to protect you from it.” He looked like he might cry navy reached her hand round to sweep across his cheek.

“Please, let me speak.” she started, steadying her voice. “I felt the same, when I found you I felt complete, I loved you from the first moments I spent with you, I can’t have a life without you, when Helmut said I was my brothers biggest weakness, I realised you’re mine, and then I hurt you, don’t say I didn’t because I saw it in your eyes. We stand together, I set us apart it was unforgivable.”

“There’s nothing you could do that I wouldn’t forgive.” He insisted, his vibranium hand against hers on his cheek. Nancy smiled, her whole face lighting up.

“And for the record, trouble seems to find me just fine, and who wants a normal life, any life with you would be extraordinary.”

“Nancy, we might not get the big house in the country, I might not get to give you the kind of life you’re used to. I don’t work nine to five, I haven’t got a credit score or a pension plan, we might not get a puppy or have some kids…”

“Oh no we will have kids,” Nancy cut him off with a laugh, shaking her head.

“How are you so certain.” Bucky smiled back.

“Because I’m as stubborn as I am beautiful, because i think you want kids, and so do I, because our life will be different, but I’ll be damned if it’s not exactly the life we both want.” She let up kissing his forehead and both his cheeks.

“Are you sure?” He pressed his forehead into hers.

“Absolutely, you don’t need a pension, or a credit score and I don’t care where we live, New York, London, Timbuktu for all I care. I have money, I know it can’t buy me those moments in our future.” She exclaimed. She looked briefly round the cabin. “Where’d you suppose Sam got to?”

“I think he’s giving us a moment.” Bucky chuckled, tilt her chin to press his lips against hers, she chuckled into it, running her fingers through his hair.

“You think a lot about our future,” he asked, kissing along her jawline.

“Yes.” She blushed slightly, biting her lip.

“Tell me.” Both hands were in her hair now, moving against her scalp as her head tilted back, giving him access to her neck.

“Okay,” She breathed in heavily, closing her eyes. “so, I think we’ll have a little place somewhere, not too busy, nice and secluded, you can go off on your missions and know there’s a safe place to come home to. We can have kids, they’ll get under our feet when we put up the Christmas decorations, they’ll sneak out of bed to see you when you come home late. A little boy with your big blue eyes, a little girl dusted in my freckles. We can have Sam round for barbecues…” Nancy was cut off by Bucky sitting back up straight.

“Don’t talk about Sam right now.” He laughed.

“So nice little place, couple of kids, what will you be doing? I cannot picture you as the doting housewife.” He tapped her nose playfully.

“Maybe I’ll be heading out next to you,” His face filled with horror, she laughed again and his face relaxed, “or I’ll finally put that degree I got to good use, start writing again.”

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

They arrived in Cornwall under cover of night. The trio trudged sleepily across the field and made their way to a cosy Clift top B&B. The elderly lady on the desk showed them up to two rooms. Bucky and Nancy settled into their nightly routine, he lay with his arms wrapped around her as she traced the gold detailing in his left arm.

“I think Sam’s idea is good, we’ll start at the docks tomorrow, work our way down the coast from there.” Bucky said, Nancy nodded sleepily. “Sorry, were you trying to sleep?”

“No no, it’s okay, keep talking, your voice is soothing.” She smiled, snuggling deeper into his embrace.

“Okay, different topic, tell me about Thomas Gregory.” He whispered in her ear. She laughed loudly, turning round to face him.

“He was Kit’s best friend, so he was a little older, I was 11 and thought he was perfect. He was actually an arsehole. But I fancied he was my soulmate. Kit used to tease me constantly about him, why’d you ask, feeling jealous?” She asked giggling.

“No, I was merely curious.” He insisted.

“Sure sure, I do think you’re right about Sam’s plan. If he is using Thomas’s name then we can look for that. If he’s using a different alias maybe I’ll recognise it. Helmut did think he wanted me to find him. Also, if he has taken the serum maybe some locals have noticed a local fisherman with super strength.”

“You think he’s become a fisherman?” Bucky said, surprised.

“Well, I was thinking, he loves to be at sea, the navy is out of the question and if he is wanting me to find him, he’d have to stay local. Cornwall is known for its’ roaring fishing trade.”

“I wouldn’t know, but it’s a good place to begin,”

“So, we’ll do this undercover, no stars, no stripes and no metal arm.” Her eyes pleaded with him.

“I packed my gloves.” He waved the vibranium at her. She smiled as the soft light from the bedside lamp reflected off it. A yawn came over her and Bucky reached back to switch off the light. Nancy turned again, her back now pressed back against Bucky’s chest. Sleep fell over them both.

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

They headed out to the coast at dawn. The early morning sun beating down on them. Chatted cheerfully on along the way, he seemed to have lost his hostility from the day before. The first village they came across turned out to be a tourist hotspot, Nancy managed to hire them a car. The first harbour they found didn’t recognise the name Thomas Gregory or the picture Nancy brought up of Kit on her phone. The second harbour told the same story but once they reached the third harbour they had some hope.

“I think I might’ve seen him round here before, tall fellow,” The harbour master explained. Nancy nodded eagerly. “I think he usually mores over the ridge, wait here a moment.” The man jogged back to his portacabin and returned with a clipboard. “Here it is, Greg Thomas, stayed here a few months back, just the one night, the boat you’re looking for is the Princess Lynnette.” He smiled cheerfully at them. Nancy froze but the man didn’t notice as Sam thanked him whilst he walked away.

“You okay there?” Sam asked tapping her shoulder, “it’s good news, he might not be far.”

“He named his boat after me.” She whispered. Bucky smiled but Sam looked confused.

“Princess Lynnette?”

“Lynnette is my middle name.” Nancy explained, fondling the car keys before nodding to herself and marching back to the car. She slipped behind the driver’s seat and started the engine. Kit was close, she could almost feel it, as they drove over the ridge a large cove came into view. The harbour was a rush with activity as the boats came in from their morning runs. They pulled into a nearby car park and entered the throng of people. With everyone so busy they had to do without help finding the boat. They flittered in and out of crowds and up and down the jetty. Just when Nancy was losing hope she caught sight a surprisingly still boat at the end of one row. Every other boat had people rushing on and off loading and unloading goods. This one was silent, Nancy approached it slowly, and there were the words, Princess Lynnette, printed in blue along the side of a modestly sized fishing boat. It had curtains drawn across the window. She reached up to knock tentatively on the window. There was no response. Bucky came up and wrapped an arm round her shoulder.

“It’s his, it has to be.” She felt tears pricking at her eyes.

“We’ll give you a minute.” Bucky nodded at Sam who was admiring the docks comings and goings. They walked a little way away as Nancy stared at the boat, waiting for the curtain to twitch or the boat to rock. It just kept bobbing gently. She knocked again, harder this time, the again and again.

“Can I help you?” A voice sounded from behind her. Nancy span on one heel, her hair flying around as she did, getting whipped up in the wind.

“Nancy.” Kit was standing there, the same but different. He seemed bigger, he’d grown out his hair and was sporting a beard, his skin tanned more than it had been before. He looked different, but he was still, unmistakably, her big brother, he really was alive.

“Kit.” She said, breathless as her legs gave out under her.

[queer-as-in-slightly-odd]

Fic Announcement

COMING SOON: Sebastian vs the Homo Sapiens Agenda

Blackmailed and threatened with exposure, sixteen-year-old Seb is forced between being a pawn in a manipulative game, or risking being publicly outed and losing his very distracting, anonymous pen pal...

---

I’m really excited to announce my new multi-chapter project, a ‘Love, Simon’ AU for HSMTMTS, based primarily on the book, but slightly incorporating elements from the movie. I will point out, though, that I’m not simply lifting the text from the book and changing the names! Although there are obvious similarities, I hope it’s fresh, and written in my own style.

Unusually (for me), I’m writing the entire thing before I post any of it. Because of the nature of the story and the nuances of adapting the original narrative, I’m having to go back and make tweaks, so I’d rather be completely happy with it first, then publish it once it’s completely done.

I will be using a taglist for anyone who’s interested in receiving updates, so please let me know if you’d like to be tagged! 

Preview from Chapter One under the cut:

It’s a weirdly subtle conversation; so subtle, in fact, that I barely notice the blackmail. I’m just on my phone, backstage, waiting for Miss Jenn to end our rehearsal break when EJ Caswell sidles over. I glance up, mildly irritated – I’d really rather be left alone, but now EJ’s spinning a folding chair around and sitting on it like a “cool” teacher, his gangly legs straddling the back of the chair. Not that I want to imagine EJ Caswell straddling anything.

“Hey, Seb,” EJ says, and my guard is instantly up. Only my close friends and family get to call me Seb, and although I don’t hate the guy, EJ is by no means my friend. “So, I feel I should tell you that I read your email.”

I look blankly at him. “What?”

“By accident, obviously,” EJ adds, with a nervous-sounding laugh. “I mean, I logged into the library computer right after you, but your email was already on the screen.” It’s at this point that I feel panic twist a knot in my gut.

“You read my emails?”

“It’s okay,” he smiles. Somehow I know that he’s not trying to reassure me, and as if to prove the point, he says, “I thought you might be interested to know that I have a cousin who’s gay, so I’m okay with it.”

“I’m not really interested in what you think, EJ.”

“It’s actually pretty cool,” he goes on, as if I said nothing. “You should live your truth.” I have to laugh at the irony of this guy giving me advice on coming out, or whatever.

“Yeah, okay.” I look back at my phone and wait for him to leave, assuming that this conversation is over, but he doesn’t move. “What?” I sigh, now thoroughly sick of EJ’s presence.

“Chill,” he says, holding his hands up in surrender. “I just wanted to, you know, reassure you that I’m not gonna show anyone.”

“Show any…” It takes a second to sink in. “Hold on, did you take a picture of my emails?”

“Not all of them,” he says, as if this in any way justifies it. “Anyway, you’re friends with Nini Salazar-Roberts, right?” The sudden tangent throws me, and I take a second to recover. “You think you could, you know, introduce us properly?”

“Or maybe we could talk about you taking a fucking picture of my emails?”

“Look, Seb,” he says, and I bristle with annoyance. “I like this girl. I just think we’re in a position to help each other.”

“What, you want me to put in a good word for you?”

“Something like that – invite me to stuff she’s going to, that sort of thing.”

“Why the hell should I do that?” He bites his lip like he’s anxious, and suddenly it clicks. “Oh my god.” He cannot be serious. “Or you’ll leak my emails? Put them on the fucking East High Confessions page?”

“Seb, it’s not that deep,” he says with an uneasy chuckle. “Will you do it or not?”

[izzy-b-hands]

14, 19, 23 for the writer asks!

Thank you!!

14. At what point in writing do you come up with a title?

fadsklfj I should do that first, but usually? At the end of a piece. Right as I’m basking in the ‘ooh yay this is done and I can post it’ glory, I immediately look up, see my blank title space, and go ‘...well fuck.’ The few times I’ve had a title come with the story idea that I could put down right away have been an absolute delight!

19. Is there something you always find yourself repeating in your writing? (favourite verb, something you describe ‘too often’, trope you can’t get enough of?)

Commas, the word ‘just’, ‘scoffed’, ‘tutted’, ‘sighed’ (though I am trying to work on the word repetition issue now that I’ve noticed more, and try to seek out alternates whenever I can so long as they don’t alter the mood and general meaning of the sentence too much). I also think I need to give a break to poor Brian, for tending to be the ‘rational’ one in a lot of what I write. Not that being that is a bad thing at all, but I feel like I don’t let him be silly enough when I write him. He’s overdue for a fic where I write him as letting loose, I think!

23. What’s the story idea you’ve had in your head for the longest?

Oh god...So Many...

But one of the strongest ones that I keep reconfiguring is the one I’ve talked about before, with Queen as part of The Endless from The Sandman series. I’m working towards making that one a reality, but it’s going to be a huge undertaking (especially as I’ve realized I can’t use the canon story lines really. Bits and pieces of them, sure, but really I need to write a whole new story line in order to give the idea its due.) 

I simply cannot get the idea of Freddie as Dream out of my head though. I think folks would default to putting Brian there because Dream is melancholy, and so is Brian at times, but truly? A bigger facet of Dream’s arc to me is how he has to learn to let people/beings back into his life once he’s back in his realm, and I have literally multiple essays I could write re: Freddie and loneliness, Freddie and finding platonic love w/friends as a gay man vs. finding romantic love as a gay man (I also have an essay where I just call out myself on that topic, actually lmao), Freddie and how he interacts within various social circles in his life, etc. I feel like all of that makes him a perfect fit for Dream. 

Also, the times where Dream has to be stern and serious, like during the meeting of Collectors (god spoilers to anyone who hasn’t read them yet but also my apologies as you are likely going ‘hey Lee what in the ENTIRE FUCK are you talking abt’)? All I can see is Freddie there, cool as can be, but utterly terrifying because he isn’t loudly angry. He doesn’t have to be. He isn’t normally angry at all, so seeing him literally coolly seething with rage at these nasty fuckers, making sure they literally have no peace in their lives after the horrible things they’ve done? 

Yeah. If I could send Freddie a script right now via the cosmos and have him read for that scene, I would, because I’m confident he would kill it. 

Since I’ve already talked about the Endless AU once before, I’ll end this with a lighter, other idea I’ve had floating around for a bit: 

Queen and being broken down mid-tour in the middle of American Midwest (is this just an excuse to write them coming to ND....look-) 

When I eventually get to it, I want to give it a slight old-school eighties horror edge (without the shitty homophobic, racist, and sexist tropes that can often be found in older horror.) John dealing with being alone working on the van after Roger “disappears” (stalks off into a field, possibly sunflower or corn for the height,  for a piss, but doesn’t tell John because of course he doesn’t, but realizes that he keeps hearing things in the field, and gosh where did he even enter the field, and how does he get back out?), Freddie and Brian getting bored and deciding to wander and make out and try and find a way to enjoy the situation only to realize they’re being followed, the road crew offering to go in a group (for safety) and walk along the roadway to try and find a service station and/or some other help but then they don’t return (they would be fine, I won’t actually kill anyone off lol...but some folks might end up maimed. It is still horror, after all.) 

I’ve told myself I have to hold off with both of these ideas until I get all my current multi-chapter fics (my Queen ones and the one I have left to finish for Kingsman, though there are a few other Kingsman multi-chapters I need to get back to at some point as well) finished up, or at least updated with another chapter! 

But after that? I wanna put these two ideas in as a rush job on myself because I’m so excited to write them both!