#he's grasping at straws trying to find what to do with himself and spilling everywhere in the process because he didn't think to mend all

[scorchedhearth]

it's just. he's alive now but what for? now that he's back what does he keep himself alive for? one thing, one goal, but you don't see him stop and wonder if he's happy with being back in the first place, if he wants to, if he wants to keep going beyond his revenge and build something for himself. he just wants to confront bruce, to show him what he's done, what he has become and he'll be from now, a better batman, a better man than what he sees in bruce now. he's so caught up in this that he doesn't stop and wonder about life beyond this goal. everything he does in utrh, especially near the end, shows this single-minded focus on his plan, on bruce and their confrontation, and no indication of a goal further than that, of a life beyond it. the bomb in his helmet, the lack or attempt at building a life for himself, connections and a network to fall back on after, the extreme stunts and actions he goes to, play cat and mouse with dangerous individuals with a seeming lack of care, the fail-safe of the final confrontation being either bruce kills him or he kills them all and bring the building down. he never even envisioned that his life would go on beyond this culmination, and i'd kill to see what his struggles looked like right after this, when he found himself alive once more and with nothing else to live for, now that the bridge between him and bruce had been burned and left to ruins with no way back, no reconciliation possible. what did it look like when he had to sit down and wonder if he even wants to be here now, if he wants to live any more than he already did, if it would even be worth it, if he could make something out of it because his utilitarian mindset would never allow him to live just for the sake of living, his existence must be justified, especially now that he's here despite what his fate meant for him and his end

[es-kay-zee]

Goodbyes | Hwang Hyunjin x Reader

genre: nothing but angst

warnings: none, just lots of sadness

requested: nope

word count: 1.7k

taglist: @bxngchxn @jisungsplatforms 

a/n: not proofread, if you see any mistakes, feel free to let me know so that i can fix them :)

 ____________________

It was hard. Harder than you thought it would be. You knew it wasn’t going to be easy, but the past couple months of Hyunjin being on tour were pure hell. He means everything to you; he’s helped you through more bad days than you could count. He’s your rock. But being apart from him for so long was taking a toll. He’d told you before you left that you could call him at any time if you needed or wanted to. And you did just that, calling whenever you wanted to hear his voice, or needed some comforting words. But more often than not, he didn’t pick up. You knew he was just busy, constantly travelling and preparing for various shows. But that didn’t make it any easier for you.

It was somewhere around three weeks before he was scheduled to come home. That was when you left. You’d packed a few bags, locked the door to yours and his shared apartment, and walked away. You went to stay with a different friend, it was getting too hard staying in that apartment. Everywhere you’d looked was constant reminders that he wasn’t there. Staying somewhere else was a last resort, you’d spent days calling him, even catering the timing of your calls to fit into whatever time zone he was in at the time. But he still didn’t answer.

And so, you’d called your friend. Moving in with her wasn’t too bad. She worked most days of the week, which meant you were still alone the majority of the time. But you didn’t mind, as long as you didn’t have reminders of Hyunjin everywhere. You gave up trying to call him completely after going to stay with your friend. You didn’t want to deal with the constant disappointment of reaching his voicemail.

 .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

 Finally getting dropped off outside his apartment building, Hyunjin was excited. He’d gone so long without getting to see you, to hold you. He hadn’t even gotten a chance to talk to you for months. But now he was only minutes away from being able to do just that. Mere moments from being able to wrap his arms around you and engulf you in the biggest hug, from being able to press his lips to yours in a kiss that expresses all the loving words he hasn’t been able to say to you for so long. He’s so close to being able to whisper in your ear about how much he loves you and missed you.

It makes him move quicker. The overwhelming need to see you makes him almost run towards the elevator, pressing the button over and over until the doors open and he rushes inside. The minute or so spent in the elevator felt like hell, the time passing excruciatingly slowly. But it’s finally over and the doors open for him once again. He hurries down the hallway, scrambling to pull out his key. He finally unlocks the door and rushes inside, closing it behind him.

He expected to be attacked immediately, for you to instantaneously cling onto him and pepper his face with kisses just like you usually do when he comes home from being away. Granted, during the span of yours and his relationship, he’d never been away for as long as he just was, but that shouldn’t change how you’d welcome him home. Instead, Hyunjin finds the apartment dark, all the lights off and not a sound coming from anywhere.

“Y/n?” he calls out into the silence. His brow furrows as he abandons his suitcases in favour of searching around. He walks from room to room, calling your name quietly with each one he enters. But you’re nowhere to be found. He tells himself that you’ve just gone out for a while, that you’re just out shopping and that you’ll be back soon. He slowly takes his suitcase to the bedroom and begins to unpack quietly. There’s something about the silence in the apartment, it’s uncomfortable, but he still feels as if he shouldn’t make a sound. He finishes packing, opting to lay down on the bed and scroll through his phone while he continues to wait for you.

 .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

 Hyunjin isn’t sure when he fell asleep, but he does know that it’s late afternoon the next day by the time he wakes up. And that you’re still not home. He does another brief search of the apartment, just to be sure that you’re not there before he starts to worry. He hurries back to the bedroom, grabbing his phone so that he can call you. He picks it up, but the screen is dark. It’s dead. He never plugged it in last night before he fell asleep. He groans, frantically grabbing the charger and plugging his phone in.  The time he spends waiting for his phone to be charged enough to turn on is torture, all he wants is to hear your voice, to know that you’re okay and safe.

After a short while filled with Hyunjin pacing around while he waits, his phone finally has enough battery power. He stares at his phone, hands shaking slightly while his thumb hovers over the call button next to your contact. He takes a deep breath to calm himself, unsure why exactly he’s so nervous, before pressing the button. He moves the phone up against his ear, listening to it ring. It rings for a while, and just when he’s sure you’re not going to answer, you pick up.

“Hi.” Your voice is quiet, unsure, and Hyunjin is immediately worried.

“What’s wrong?” he asks.

“Don’t worry about it, it’s fine.” That’s not an answer he likes to hear.

“Please don’t say that. Something’s bothering you and I want to help.”

“As I just said, don’t worry about it. Why are you calling me anyway?” You’re dismissal of your own feelings isn’t what hold Hyunjin’s attention, it’s your question.

“Y/n, what do you mean? I’m calling because I’m wondering where you are.”

“Why does it matter where I am?”

“Because you’re not home and I waited for you, but you never showed up. I got worried.”

“There’s no need to be worried. I’m staying with a friend.” Something about the way you say those words makes Hyunjin worry even more. But he doesn’t want to think about what you might be implying.

“Were you too lonely here without me here?” he tries to joke, forcing a chuckle as he tries to lighten the mood. “It’s okay, I’m home now so you can come back.”

He’s hopeful, desperately wanting you to smile and say that you’ll be right over to hug him. But that’s not what happens.

“Hyunjin, I don’t think I will come back.” He feels as if his heart has stopped beating. His breathing picks up as he absorbs your words.

“Like, do you mean you won’t be back today?” Again, Hyunjin is grasping at straws, desperately trying not to believe what his mind is telling him you’re implying.

“No, I-” you pause, taking a deep breath. And Hyunjin can hear through his phone speaker that you’re barely stopping yourself from crying. “I’m not coming back at all.”

“A-are you breaking up with me?” His voice cracks, and his tears threaten to spill. And he knows that if you confirm what he’s saying, then he’s going to break down.

“I am.”

“Why?” His voice is barely a whisper, wanting answers for why you’re ending what he thought was a perfect relationship.

“Because I can’t do this again. I know you’re busy on tour, believe me, I understand that. But I tried to call you so many times and not once did you answer. You told me when you left that I could call you at any time, so why didn’t you pick up? I was struggling, I had so many bad days and you weren’t there for me when I needed you to be.” Hyunjin listens silently as you explain, and it hurts him. It hurts him to know that he left you alone to deal with your bad days by yourself. He has no excuses for not picking up or returning your calls. All he can do is feel guilty about it.

“Y/n, I’m so sorry. Please give me a chance to fix this.”

“No. I can’t risk putting myself through this again. I can’t let myself get more attached to someone and then possibly go through this again.” You’d managed to hold yourself together this far, but Hyunjin’s heart shatters even more at the sound of your crying through his phone speaker. All he wants is to be able to hold you right now, to tell you just how sorry he is. He wants to hug you tight and to wipe the tears from your cheeks. Hyunjin just wants to make everything alright again.

“I never meant to hurt you,” he says, but he knows that nothing he says is going to change your mind.

“That’s the thing, Jinnie. You hurt me without even trying. I’ll be around in a few days to pick up the rest of my stuff. I don’t know if you’ll be home when I do that. I do still love you, but I just can’t go through this again. I’m sorry, Goodbye.” you say before hanging up.

“I love you too,” Hyunjin replies, knowing that you can’t hear him. But he still says it because it’s true. He loves you with everything he has.

He flops back against the bed, rolling onto his side and curling into a foetal position. He reaches out and grabs a pillow – your one – and hugs it tightly. Your scent is faint on the pillowcase, a result of you being away for a few weeks. But Hyunjin doesn’t care. He just wishes it were you in place of the pillow. But he knows he can’t have that. He knows that won’t get to hold you close or call you his again. He will no longer be able to kiss you, hold your hand, or call you your favourite pet names. He won’t get to propose to you as he’d planned to do someday. He won’t get to grow old with you by his side.

And all he can do is blame himself.

[justasparkwritings]

Exile: My Town

Previous: Five Whole Minutes

Pairing: Timotheé Chalamet x Reader

Genre: Angst, Slice of Life

Rating: PG15 

Word Count: 1.9K

Warnings: Swearing

Summary: If he was honest with himself, Timothée expected her to cancel. But there she is, on his doorstep.

Exile Master List

     The phone had rung hundreds of times over the last six months. The first month, Timothée called her twice a day, every morning and every night. On weekends he called more frequently, drinking his days away, leaving embarrassingly long messages. He declared his love, shared his vision for their future, talked about what he wanted to name their kids and when he thought they’d get married. He described the property in France that he wanted to buy, did she know he had been looking? He detailed how he wanted to continue to go back to Crema for the summer, maybe buy a villa there too, and split summers between the two locations. He wanted their kids to learn French and Italian, he wanted her to learn too. He wanted to wear a paisley suit, or maybe velvet, for their wedding. Their wedding, he had already planned, and wouldn’t it be romantic if it was over three days in their new château?

    He became more desperate as the days turned into weeks, which turned into months. On one particular evening, his anger overcame him as he yelled into the receiver about her belongings and their house. What the fuck did she want to do? Did she fucking plan on ever coming back for her clothes? Did she expect him to fucking ship them from their house to wherever the hell she was? And, where was she? Where the fuck was she? Why was she doing this to him? To their life? Why the fuck couldn’t she get over it and come home? Didn’t she realize how much he needed her? Why wouldn’t she just talk to him?

    This had been the final straw. He had awoken to find a new folder had been shared with him. He opened it and was confronted with what he had become. She had saved his voicemails, his drunken assaults and languid descriptions of their life. She had kept his sobs, his deepest secrets, his desires. Here they were for him to relive. At the end was a memo he hadn’t recorded, a message from her, telling him the days she would be coming over to pack her belongings and detailing the furniture in the house that she wanted. She didn’t care where he went, but for those three days, he couldn’t be there. She told him to sell the house, she’d take her share of the profits, and if he decided he didn’t want to move, he needed to buy her out.

    The cracks deepened. The sorrow became overwhelming. The darkness was everywhere. Despite her best attempts, her jovial personality and excitement at preparing for the baby, Florence was at a loss. She didn’t know how to make him feel better. She didn’t know how to dissuade the guilt she felt at playing a part in their demise.

    After six months and one week, Florence had gone into labor. They decided to keep it low key, which is why on a Saturday a month after his daughter’s arrival, he had called her to ask if she would come by and meet his new daughter. He had left it open ended, a few friends stopping by to meet her, no big deal, and maybe could they talk? She had said she would stop by. After seven months, she still hadn’t spoken to him about why she left.

    Florence had brought the baby over to get acquainted with Timothée’s home, since she would be spending half her time with him. Tim was excited to have his daughter in his house, instead of staying at Florence’s a few nights a week to take care of her. He recognized that they would need to find a solution until she stopped nursing, and he was more than happy to spend the night, often taking all the night shifts so Florence could sleep. But he wanted his daughter in his house, and he wanted to share his daughter with his love, even if they hadn’t spoken in seven months. She was still his love, his future, wasn’t she?

    If he was honest with himself, Timothée expected her to cancel. But there she is, on his doorstep.

    “Hi,” She says, holding the gift box tightly in her hands.

    “Hi love,” He says, smiling at her. “You look, gorgeous.”

    “Don’t,” She says.

    She had tried to prepare for this, for being in her house when it was no longer hers. Timothée wasn’t making a move until they had spoken. Why would he sell their house, the house that they had built and let their love blossom in? She couldn’t tell if he loved it because it was theirs, and in his mind, he still thought there was a chance they would get back together, or because he really liked the modern home. The fact that he hadn’t bought her out or moved to sell it both infuriated her and reminded her why she would always love him: sentimentality.

    She stands at the threshold, peering in. The memory of picking out the tiles in the entry way and the stain of the hardwood floors cascaded over her. She had insisted on the herringbone pattern, which made the stairs look like a maze of wood grains. Timothée had just looked at her, smiling and saying, “as you wish”. She hadn’t imagined when they’d hung their Christmas photos leading towards the living room, that she’d been on the outside, wondering how long he’d keep them up and when he took them down, would he tell her? What would he do with the framed images when he realized they no longer had a future? Would he keep them up, despite it no longer being a home, but to show his daughter what once lived in this place? Or would he discard it to create something new for his life with his child?

    “We’re in the living room,” Timothée steps aside and lets her walk in. She kicks her shoes off and pads softly towards the voices and baby coos.

    “You came!” Florence calls, standing up to meet her. “I’m so happy to see you.”

    She meets Florence’ enthusiasm and hugs her. Florence had wanted to meet with her at various points in the pregnancy. She wanted to talk with her, try to get her to understand what her having Timothée’s baby meant, but she didn’t budge. She would only see Florence in group settings, and even then, she stayed away. Which is why Florence is so thrilled when she walks into the living room.

    “You look amazing! How are you feeling?” She sits on her couch, the one she spent weeks researching, picking patterns, comparing quality of fabrics, before insisting on this one. She hadn’t expected Timothée to change their home, but it was almost worse sitting in it, everything where she left it. He had bought similar items as placeholders for the ones she had taken, his unwillingness to admit that the items weren’t coming back evident in their lesser replacements.

    “I’m doing well, really well. Did you bring a gift? You didn’t have to!” Florence says, reaching for the present.

    “Oh, it’s nothing, really,” She hands the box to Florence, who proceeds to open it quickly.

    “Oh my god, this is so cute!” Florence calls, taking in the puzzle she’d picked out.

    “You know, for when she’s a little older and is playing. I remember my name puzzle from childhood, I always loved it,” She says smiling.

    Timothée can feel his heart aching. Of course, she picked a thoughtful, caring gift for his daughter. Of course, even in this challenging situation, she chose to take the high road.

    “Well, speaking of, this is Margot,” Florence says, picking up her daughter from the bassinet to the right of the couch. Placing her delicately in her friends’ arms, Florence sits.

    She smiles and cradles Margot in her arms. She can feel the tears as they begin to form and wills herself to not let them fall. She has Timothée’s eyes, and enough curly hair to match her father. Her olive skin and delicate features resemble her mother. She’s beautiful.

    Moments pass before she realizes she’s staring, unmoving, unspeaking.

    “She already loves you,” Timothée says, coming over and sitting next to her on the couch.

    “She’s really beautiful,” She says, handing her back to Florence. Silence falls as Margot coos. “Um, I can’t stay long, just wanted to stop by,” she says standing.

    “Nonsense, stay for a drink!” Florence says, positioning herself to nurse baby Margot.

    “No, I can’t, thank you though, for inviting me,” she quickly hugs Florence and says bye to Margot. She walks swiftly to the foyer and slips her shoes on before he’s grabbing her wrist.

    “Don’t go,” Timothée says, grip tightening on her skin.

    “I have other plans, can’t cancel,” She says, free hand moving to wipe a stray tear.

    “Talk to me, you haven’t spoken to me in seven months, please,” He says.

    “Well you’ve done enough for the both of us,” She opens the front door and starts walking down the driveway.

    “I’m sorry, I don’t know how else to say it, I’m sorry,” He grabs her wrist again in an attempt to turn her around.

    “Stop apologizing.” She says, tugging her arm out of his grasp. “Just, stop.”

    “Why can’t we talk about this? Why can’t we share in this? I need you; I love you. I know you’re mad at me, I know you’re upset but I’ve been racking my brain for seven months trying to figure out why you can’t handle this. You are my rock; you are my fucking harbor. We have a life together! I need you; I need you,” He says, the crack in his voice giving way to the tears spilling down his cheeks.

    “I can’t do this,” She says, voice wavering

    “Why the fuck not?” He calls.

    “Because! Because Timothée,” She yells, venom in her throat. “This is supposed to be me. This is supposed to be my life. This is the life you promised me.” She tries to inhale through her sob. “I know you need me. I know it’s been a difficult seven months. But this was supposed to be us, it was supposed to be our baby in our house. You and me.”

    “I’m sorry, I know, I know we had plans I know, but, she’s my daughter and I can’t change what’s happened with -”

    “You don’t fucking get it, Timothée,” She cuts him off.

    “What don’t I get? What don’t I understand? I have been trying to understand why you left for months! I keep coming up short. Why would you walk out on us? Why would you abandon me and our dreams? What possib-

    “She made you a father,” She gasps as the words tumble out. She pauses, trying to inhale and regain any sense of composure. “Florence gave you a child. She did! No matter what I do, I will always…”

    “I-I,” He stumbles, realization washing over him as his body gives way to another round of sobs.

    “I will never be able to… my entire life, my life with you … our life … is gone, Timothée. Sell the house, buy the villa in Crema, raise your daughter…” She throws her hands up and inhales abruptly, “This was supposed to be ours.”

    She darts into her car and quickly pulls out of the driveway. She doesn’t stop as he falls to his knees. She doesn’t stop as she drives away from the house and the life they shared. He doesn’t stop calling after her, even after his knees hit the concrete, the snot and tears mixing on his tongue as he tries to will her back.

Next: Insult to Injury 

[mizuritamanami]

What Goes Unseen

Linked Universe Time Warriors and Legend angst to sort of fluff?

They all have secrets. That much is a given, and sort of hard to miss, given the way Four clams up when asked about his moods, how often Wild has to just... stop and leave and come back to himself when they pass ruins sometimes, or the way Twilight vanishes without a trace to go off doing Hylia only knew what. 

And that wasn't even touching on the walking enigmas Time and Legend could be, so sure. They all have their secrets. Even bubbly Wind and soft spoken Sky. Secrets, secrets everywhere, in plain view or otherwise. 

But something about Wild’s Hyrule has been eating away at Warriors for weeks. Enough that Legend has even noticed his change in mood, his disinterest in most of the things he normally jumped at. 

Enough that the veteran adventurer surprises him by pulling him aside to talk in the guise of a patrol, enough that he wears Warriors down with enough pointless questions that the knight just explodes to ask him what the hell it is he wants.

"Somethings been on your mind for almost a month. You're starting to scare the old man," Legend says bluntly, "I didn't think you could top that "launch tree into bokoblin camp and rain fire from above" heart attack you gave him, but here we are. What gives?" 

For a moment, Warriors just stares at him, because firstly, how dare he insinuate that that plan hadn't worked perfectly outside of the landing, and secondly, since when did you pay that much attention to me?

He huffs. 

"I'm fine."

"Uh. No." 

Worth a try, anyway, Warriors thinks, turning away from the scrutinizing eyes of the young man across from him. 

Legend notes the way his fingers dig into the blue cloth around his neck, and sighs, gesturing to a fallen log. 

"Sit," he says, "tell me whats bothering you. If its got you like this, it warrants a serious talk, without pretense."

"Didn't know you knew such fancy words."

"Don't make me take it back and kick you in the shins."

Warriors has to laugh at that at least a little, so he sits, as instructed, and watches Legend plop unceremoniously into the mix of leaflitter, pine nettles, and flower petals on the forest floor. 

He's still fidgeting with the scarf, and the words come slowly at first, then frantic and almost angry. 

"My mother used to tell me, you know.... that there are stories, in the absences. In what we don't see. And- the more I look around, the more I see you- all of you- in Wild's Hyrule. Goddess, you're all everywhere.... but-.... out of the nine of us, there are only eight call backs. Even Wild's got his own legends already. So I can't help but wonder--..."

"Where you are."

"Where I went! What happened? Did- did I fail, somehow? Did I do something wrong? There's nothing left that says I ever even existed!"

"You existed to us. To Wild, to me, and Time, and Twi and the others. Between all of us, there's no denying that you were here."

Legend realizes belatedly that he's only just barely fended off a fit of sobs from the knight, and counts himself lucky and also gives himself a brownie point or three for the save, just before he recognizes the familiar thwacking and tramping of bronze armor against offending tree branches and leather boots on forest floor somewhere behind him.

He feels the heat come through his voice before he can stop the words from coming out of his mouth. 

"Besides, you didn't completely fuck a timeline, then leave another to Ganon for seven whole years, now did you? Too busy cleaning up other people's messes."

Time froze as his foot settled on the line of the clearing they were in, and the pregnant silence in the moment it took him to school his voice into something normal made Warrior's skin crawl it was so uncomfortable. 

"..... T-There you boys are.... Twilight was--.... he was getting worried. I'll tell him you just .... stopped for a break."

He turned on his heel in a perfect about face that made Warriors knight-side a little jealous, but the rest of him looked to Legend, who was avoiding the direction Time had gone entirely. Realization dawned a moment after.

"......... that was cruel, Legend..... I didn't want you to make me feel better if you were just going to tear him down. Or tell his secrets."

"...... if I'm honest Wars? That last jab was more for my sake than yours."

"What?"

"Whose timeline do you think his failure ruined?"

The sharp intake of breath on Warriors part told Legend he'd picked up on all the appropriate cues. 

".... that's one of my secrets, for spilling his to you, I guess. I don't know if I'm ever gonna be able to forgive him. But hey, since when has Hylia ever cared what we thought? Probably hasn't since Sky...... the point is, you aren't a failure for having to pick up after everyone else, and then not getting thanked for it. You're like that with all of us, too. Constantly doing things hoping someone will at the least notice. I noticed. All of us have. You're a goddamn hero, same as the rest of us, and the only reason your scarf isn't locked up in a chest out here somewhere is probably because you wouldn't part with that thing if it cost you your freaking soul or something. Duh."

Its quiet for a moment, and Warriors takes the time to look down at the blue around his neck a moment before smiling.  

"..... you should apologize to Old Father Time.... but you're right.  I guess its still all in the things you don't see at first glance- I never would have thought you a confidant. You might find out some interesting things about him if you sat like you did with me."

"Id rather eat one of Wild's disgusting potions made out of butterflies and lizalfos."

"Don't jinx yourself, Vet." 

"Shut up."

~~~~~

Legend was going to murder Warriors.

Don't jinx yourself my ass, you set this up, you sorry-- he cut his own thoughts off to hiss under his breath.

Not only was Legend laid up with Time looking out for him as first watch, but he'd had to drain four of those nasty freaking potions. 

"I hate. Lightning. So much."

Normally, that would have earned him a chuckle, or at least a sympathetic hum.

But Time just turned his head towards a darker section of the underbrush that Legend knew for sure he absolutely could not see anything in. 

Was it the being ignored or the uncertainty and hurt in Time's expression that made his stomach twist? 

"I said--" 

"I heard you, Legend. I'm sorry, I didn't think you wanted to speak to me." 

"...... oh..." 

The simple acceptance of Legend's earlier ire pulled all of the heat right out from under him, and he deflated some into his bedroll. 

"........ I am sorry.... I know it doesn't mean much to you, but... I am. Even the sword didn't think I was good enough, and judging by your reaction, it was probably right."

Legend winced. 

"What kind of bullshit cop-out is that? The sword doesn't make you a damn hero, it just points and grabs like a stupid claw game."

"Success, does, then. And that is a baton I clearly didn't pass to you, that I missed out on passing down peace..... it eats at me, some nights when I can't sleep, that I still managed to grasp at straws and hold so tight to so much good that I got to keep it. And I doomed you. I have everything and you were left wanting." 

Legend stared at his back, the way he bent around the biggoron sword leaning into his right shoulder to be drawn if need be by his left hand. 

"Im afraid I'm going to lose it all one day because I failed you so badly."

"I'm not that pitiful."

"Legend-"

"Look, I'm fine--"

"What was her name, Legend?" 

The air left Legends lungs in a sudden, sharp breath. 

"..... That's what I thought..."

"...... you were ten, if that..... yes, it sucks, and time travel is a pain, but you were fucking ten. Hylia sent a ten year old, let his tree mentor die right in front of him, and then continued to traumatize- REPEATEDLY traumatize- a child. Yes, I'm angry. Bitter and jaded, even. But don't you dare get so self important that you start thinking the blame fits on your shoulders. You're an old fucking man, not a god."

"Interesting choice of words...."

"No. No, because you're just gonna start unloading more trauma. If this is about that creepy mask, then no. That doesn't count either!"

"You're awfully concerned about this particular issue.... alright, I'll let it drop--"

"No, you ten year old little brat in a mentally fifty year olds achy jointed body, you're gonna go the fuck to sleep and stop moping. Its my turn to take watch and I'll be damned if I have to sit up watching you get all weepy into your pillow and trying to snitch Wild's slate to call your wife at two in the goddamn morning. Go to bed!"

Time stared at him in surprise, (the ten year old in him in question seriously debating biting the finger wagging in front of his nose) before Legends phrasing hit him. 

"Oh, I’m going to absolutely kill Warriors for telling you about how I was when we met."

"Brat! Bed! Bounce to it, bunny hat kid!"

"You are the last person--"

"Bed!"

"Alright! Alright! Fine! You're lucky I don't fit those masks anymore," Time muttered, picking himself up off the stump to go peel off his armor and crawl into his bedroll. He was silent as Legend pulled himself into the space he'd emptied, then sighed and smiled. 

"..... thank you, Vet." 

"Yeah yeah yeah. Go to sleep before you wake up Twilight. He has ears like a fucking wolfhou---....... oh my goddess you're kidding me."

"Shhh."

"Goddess I hate you sometimes." 

Warriors, apparently woken by the hissing through Legends teeth, chuckled to himself. 

Its all in the things you don't see, I guess, he thinks.

Secrets secrets, everywhere, but.... together, we're all still here for each other. I can live with that. 

"Good night bratty bunny and feral bunny."

Two furious choruses of "HEY!" were the perfect lullaby for Warriors to drop right back off to sleep. 

Yeah...

He could definitely live with that.

[bangtan-gal]

Kingdom of the Skies

Nakamoto Yuta x Fem!Reader prince!yuta magic!au fairytale!au word count: 2k warnings: swearing, minor angst

Masterlist | Foxtales 

Sunlight poured over the small meadow you sat in. The breeze brushed the long grass back and forth and had your hair fluttering gently around your face. Birds sang from the trees overhead and you hummed along with them as you dug up small piles of dirt.  Your bare toes wriggled against the warm ground and the hem of your dress was browned from the dirt. 

You took your time as you planted the different flower seeds in each dip in the ground. The birds’ songs grew louder as you covered the seeds back up with dirt. Your humming joined the louder decimal level and the ground started to vibrate. Closed petals ripped through the ground, black stems and leaves following after it. An array of blue, purple, white, and yellow flowers unfurled. There was a loud fluttering of wings as the birds took off, their songs turning to shrieks as they twirled through the air and away. 

“Y/N!” 

You tore your gaze away from the quickly disappearing dark mass. Kido waved at you from the creek, a wide smile on his face. His blue hair fell in front of his eyes and he shook it out of his face. You chuckled, waving back.

“How are you?” You called, sitting up on your knees. He shrugged.

“Got visited by the Queen,” he said, the humility on his face was replaced by a proud smirk. Your stomach jolted, but either way you forced a happy smile onto your face.

“Well good for you,” you commented. Kido nodded and didn’t elaborate on what happened. His head whipped around and he shouted a valediction before disappearing into the water. You placed a hand over your heart, lips pursing at the feel of it beating angrily against its constraints. “I’m okay.”

You glanced down at the flowers and sighed.

“We’re okay.”

The day went on and you went back to your gardening. The sun traveled lazily over the blue sky and the breeze started to grow colder. The birds started to collect again, beady eyes watching as you once more pulled the leather pouch from under the layers of your dress. It felt as if the animals were scolding you for your forbidden acts. 

“Aren’t you cold?”

You jumped, nearly spilling the seeds on the ground. A boy stood merely few feet away from you, a piece of straw hanging from between is teeth and an arrogant eyebrow raised as he watched you. His hair was red and long enough to be tied into a tiny ponytail. You hid the pouch of seeds and pursed your lips.

“No.”

He scoffed, walking closer to you until he crouched down beside you. His knees brushed against your arm. There was no interest in you as his eyes wandered along the flowers that you’d planted. The majority of them were just sprouts or basic flowers, but a few were starting to glow in the dusk. He flicked one that was glowing a rose-gold color, dark eyes narrowing on it.

“Fairy lantern?” He asked, gaze finally moving back to you. You raised your eyebrows, staring at the flower that his gloved fingers hovered inches away from. Most people didn’t know what fairy lanterns were and just thought of glowing flowers as an anomaly. 

“Uhm, yes,” you replied, “although I wouldn’t suggest touching it…”

He wiggled his fingers in front of you.

“No skin.”

He fell onto his butt beside you, crossing his legs in front of him. You kept blinking, trying to figure out exactly what was going on. Who was this boy? How did he find you? And why didn’t he seem too concerned about the fact that you were planting forbidden magic flowers? 

“Who are you exactly?” You queried, voice growing soft.

He blew his bangs out of his eyes.

“Yuta. Nakamoto Yuta,” he introduced, holding out the same gloved hand that had touched the flower. You recoiled, clearing your throat and wiping your hands on his dress. He pulled back and struggled to get his glove off and once more held out his hand. “Sorry, forgot about how the petal poison sticks to everything.”

You shook his hand, your hand slowly grasping his. Yuta’s hand was warm and rough and you could feel hundreds of tiny scars beneath your palm. Your hands parted and you cleared your throat once more, averting your gaze.

“Why are you planting these?” This is it: here comes the final blow. “I mean… it’s not even about you getting in trouble, you could die.”

He said the last part in a whisper, like that was the secret.

That was what made you genuinely smile.

“You know there’s an antidote, right?” You murmured, pointing to the hundreds of red roots that roved through the dirt around you. “Blood trees. Can cure anything.”

Yuta stared at you. “Any… thing?”

You nodded.

Something sad and distant invaded his eyes.

“Can I take some?”

“It’s not mine to keep,” you mentioned. He dipped his head in thanks, took some, and was on his way.

⚘⚘⚘⚘⚘

You didn’t expect to see Yuta again. Truthfully, you wanted to see him again. No other person had showed such an interest in flowers and you were certain that everyone was too scared of the Queen to go against her ban on magic. Yuta hadn’t cared about how the flowers were banned, he only cared about your safety. That was what pulled at your heart. 

You were silent as you scooped up a bucket up water from the creek. The water was freezing and your whole body was already starting to shudder from the temperature. You stepped back onto the banks, wringing the water out from the edge of your dress. Then you picked your bucket back up again, making your way towards the flowers. 

“Hi.”

You jumped, spilling water everywhere. The red-head stepped out of the splash zone gracefully, smiling and blissfully unaware of the extra work he just granted you. He looked even prettier in the sunlight. His hair was brighter and his dark eyes sparkled. The sunlight bounced off his skin and you could’ve sworn he was glowing.

“Er, hi,” you mumbled, still clutching tightly to the bucket. “You’re back.”

“Well I figured it would be rude to just barge in here, take stuff, and not come back to properly say thanks,” he huffed. Then he reached into his pocket and pulled out a light purple pouch. “I got you this as a thank you.”

You accepted it wearily. It was light and as you wriggled it testily in your fingers, you could definitely feel seeds in it. The pouch opened with ease and the smell of fresh flowers burst from it. You picked out a seed; it was purple with deep blue lines. 

“Diana’s Crown… but these are so expensive and there’s a least thirty in he—” 

You cut yourself off and your gaze snapped to his. That was where you recognized Nakamoto from. He needed the blood trees to cure something… something incurable.

“You’re the Prince.”

Yuta nodded, his teeth digging into his bottom lip.

“Yes, that’s me,” he murmured. His eyes searched yours. Then he sighed. “I don’t agree with what my mother is doing at all… I mean, she’s not even my mom. I asked for the blood tree in hopes that my father would heal and be able to stop her. Banning magic completely isn’t helping the kingdom at all. Forests and crops are dying because we haven’t seen fairies in years.”

His gaze shifted to the fairy lanterns littering the ground.

“If fairies come back, the kingdom won’t die.”

Yuta’s hand seized yours and he pulled you close.  He scent was amazing and intoxicating. His lips hovered inches from yours. You stared back at him, eyes wide. The intention in his eyes was clear: he didn’t want to kiss you, he wanted your help.

“What if the King sides with the Queen?” You asked.

Yuta dropped his head.

“Then I guess I’ll be forced to take the throne.” He didn’t sound excited or proud of the idea. You could imagine the millions of times he’d ran the scenario through his head. Yuta was just like you: someone born into a birth claim they didn’t want and now they were running. His breath shook as he straightened up and took both your hands.

“But for right now, I need you to leave the clearing. If you get caught growing these… I don’t want to imagine what would happen to you,” he begged softly.

“I can’t just le—”

His expression struck you.  Yuta was genuinely scared and concerned for you. He was fighting for something you’d wished for for so long. You nodded slowly, squeezing his hands to let him know you would take it seriously. His smile was what made it truly worth it.

Yuta moved you into a hut that sat on the outside of the town. A blind, old lady who had a tendency to talk your ears off lived there. The Prince checked in on you every day, always carrying small gifts and tiny smiles with him. Weeks passed and news started to pick up. The King was back on his feet and now the people are waiting to see what his verdict is on the new ruling of the Queen. The old lady, Vietha, was worried, claiming that since it was magic that made him sick, he would keep magic banned. Others said that he had a much too kind heart to be as cold as his wife. You weren’t given an answer until Yuta himself stumbled into the hut one night, eyes dilated, wreaking of alcohol, and an angry grimace on his face.

“He’s not going to fucking do anything about it,” he snapped. The two of you sat on the rickety old fence behind the dusty hut. The wind had you swaying back and forth and the sky was still pink from the sun that had set hours ago. “He knows it’s wrong! He knows that it’s oppressing hundreds of people and he doesn’t care because it ‘nearly killed him!’ Bah! I wish it did so I could have kicked that witch off the throne and taken charge…”

Then he shook his head.

“I don’t want to rule.”

You rubbed his shoulder.

“I’m sure we can figure something out,” you mumbled. He stared at you and the drunken look in his eyes scared you. You dug into the pockets of your dress, pulling out some of the blood tree. “Chew this.”

Yuta didn’t question you as he took the small red vine from your hand and bitterly chewed on it. He swallowed the juice wearily, eyes focused on the horizon. 

“Already feel better,” he sighed, tipping his head back. You smiled, letting your head fall back so you could stare at the same sky. Yuta was subtle as his fingers carefully draped themselves over yours until your hands intertwined. You hopped off the fence, hand still clinging to his. You pulled him along.

“Come on, I want to show you something.”

He didn’t ask any questions as you led him down the trail in the forest. Nature chirped and moved around you as you walked along. Eventually the trees spread apart and you stood in the same clearing that you met. In the dark night, the flowers grew brighter than ever. You pressed a finger to your lips and then pointed. Around the flowers, several tiny specks fluttered in the dark. Green, yellow, and pink wings beat against the air. 

“Fairies,” he whispered in mesmerization. “They’re here.”

You nodded with a smile.

“And the flowers can’t be destroyed,” you hummed, “the seeds of Diana’s Crown has some sort of liquid in it that puts a protective layer on anything it touches. Nothing can kill those flowers, not even magic itself.”

“No way,” he mumbled, glancing back at the flowers.

You rolled your eyes. “You’ve had one of the most powerful substances in reach your whole life and you didn’t even know. Flowers must really only be for people who aren’t total dumbasses.”

Yuta stared at you.

You stared back.

He kissed you quickly and pulled back with a smile.

“This is the world I’ve longed for,” he murmured. You shook your head, pressing your forehead to his.

“It’s what we’ve longed for.”

[yoongihoseok97]

The Night Before

Part 2

Taehyung x reader , Yoongi x reader, fuckboyau! Fratboyau!

Summary: you and your brother had a promise to keep and you weren’t ever going to break it, even if you didn’t entirely know what the boundaries were for that promise.

Warnings:use of alcohol, language, mentions of sex, the beginning of a cheeky few messages with Tae, me trying to be cute with backstories, this chapter is boring af :)

4,464 words

‘Hoseok!’ You screamed and giggled as you ran around the garden. The sun was beaming and flowers were blooming as your big brother chased you around the swings and through his play castle. ‘Stop, stop! Okay, okay you can have it.’ You wheezed as you brought out your inhaler, passing the small chocolate egg that you had tightly held in your hand. hoseok giggled as you gasped in the air of your inhaler, widening your eyes as you always did.

You both sat there together, full of happiness, full of joy. And full of innocence. You stared as Hobi scratched at the eggs coating of tinfoil, grasping his hands around the middle before snapping it in half. ‘One half for me, one half for you,’ Hobi started ‘just like us.’ He smiled at you but you frowned. ‘What do you mean?’ you continued to look confused at Hobi’s gesture but he just continued to smile back at you. ‘We’re half brother and sister right? We come in two parts and look similar, but really we come as one whole, and noting can change that.’ Your frown retraced itself back into a grin and then a smile. you took the chocolate despite it’s melting and sat back against the plastic castles wall, looking out towards your dad and Hoseok’s mom talking. You wandered what they were talking about as they both looked sad, angry and frustrated. but still your innocence took the best of you and you looked back at Hoseok. ‘Nothing can change that?’ he smiled and understood as he glimpsed at his parents. ‘Nothing.’

You woke up startled, eyes adjusting to the sun blaring through the un-drawn curtains. you groaned as you sat up looking around the place- red cups, glasses and beer bottles were everywhere, and the floor was covered in what you had hoped was spilt alcohol. this was definitely the worst part of the party. the aftermath of having to clean up with a pounding head and occasionally, you would even have to wake some people up who didn’t manage to make their way to the front door. except this time there were easily six guys and yourself in the middle of them. you slammed your hand to your forehead slowly bringing it down in regret and laziness as you remembered the night before. your mind raced round and round and you weren’t sure if you were overthinking or you had gone dizzy from standing up too fast. little dots of colours dazed your eyes, making you wobble on your feet, hand still on the side of your face. You squeezed your eyes before opening them again, hoping it would do something to numb the dizziness as you gradually made you way around the mess in the floor and towards the kitchen sink. luckily for you there was only a cup and cocktail straw in there as you reached for the kettle and began to fill it up.

just as you placed the kettle back down onto its place, the noise of the two parts clicking together woke one of the males up that were lying on your sofa. you froze wondering who it was only to slump your shoulders in acknowledgement. ‘Morning,’ Hoseok croaked as his morning voice got the better of him. ‘What the hell are you doing?’ You rolled you eyes and grinned as you saw his hair stuck up everywhere and even had a bit of beer stain in his top. ‘What does it look like I’m doing idiot. I’m making some coffee, do you want some or are you just gonna question each step I have to do in order to make it?’ he snorted and made a face at you as he mimicked your sarcasm. he slumped himself back into the sofa next to Jimin while you turned the kettle on, surprised how no one else had woke up yet. you heard a groan from Hoseok’s direction and turned to see him looking at Jimin in disgust as you noticed the dripping beer bottle in his hands. ‘son of a bitch, im going to kill him, this is one of my favorite tops!’ You giggled but then frowned as you saw the mess he was making on the floor you knew you had to clean up. ‘Stop being such a drama queen, you say every piece of clothing is your favorite. now stop that beer from dripping cause I’m the one who’s gonna have to clean it up.’

Hoseok picked up the bottle and attempted to find room on the coffee table for it to go. He sat up straight and got a little more comfortable before taking the coffee that you had brought towards him before handing him an aspirin. ‘Thanks.’ You attempted to find some room on the sofa and sat yourself in between what looked like Taehyung and Jin. Unfortunately you had done so unsuccessfully as both of them woke up, Jin so startled he knocked you making you spill a little of you coffee on your leg. You hissed at the heat that traveled along your bare leg while Jin mumbles something about turtles and Taehyung dribbled on your arm. ‘Oh great thanks, Jin calm down and Tae, do you mind not drooling on my arm?’ across from you Hoseok wheezed at the three of you in front of him trying not to make a noise with his incredibly loud laugh. but your noise had set off a domino set as each body slumped it’s way back up to life. Jimin gurgled and complained that someone moved his beer bottle, Namjoon jumped up from Jins lap, knocking their heads against one another as he did so. the two yelled in pain and Taehyung slumped his head backwards sighing. from the corner the other male you hadn’t been introduced to mumbled something that suspiciously sounded like ‘shut the door’.

‘Well done y/n you’ve successfully woke the dead.’ Hoseok continued to laugh as he looked around the room. ‘Wait where’s-‘ Hoseok was cut off from one of the doors opening behind you. you had hoped that it would be Margot that would step out of her room but instead a young male with light brown hair and a mocha-caramel skin walked out, shirt merely done up and his eyes half closed. ‘Jungkook! there he is.’ The male groaned in confusion as he opened his eyes to find a sight of all his friends sat up looking half dead and half hungover. or just fully dead. ‘what the... wait are we still at last nights party?’ you rolled your eyes before coming back to the realization that he had just come out of your best friends room half dressed. you wanted to be surprised but you couldn't be- he was exactly her type. sill though, you would’ve questioned him why he was still here until you remembered that he was a friend of Hoseoks, and if he was one of Hoseoks friends then you knew exactly what kind of reputation he had. then again its not like you had any place to say anything after what you had remembered from last night.

‘so...explain.’ you froze, unsure of how to respond, only for you to let out a sigh when you realized you couldn’t. your shoulders slumped and you opened your mouth to talk but Taehyung beat you to it. ‘relax bro, shes just a friend, this is-’ he stopped himself when he saw the face you were pulling at Hoseok. ‘someone you already know, clearly. look Hobi if shes your girl, chill, its not like anythings happening. we’re just getting to know each other.’ ‘that’s exactly my problem. at the bar y/n, now.’ you whispered under your breath ‘shit’ before following your brothers lead to the bar. he stopped only for him to pace a short distance before swinging his arms at you. ‘Y/N you know i don’t like you hanging around my friends, they’re-’ he paused realizing he was starting to sound too overprotective. ‘look, im sorry, i just don’t want you to do something stupid like fall for one of them.’ you burst out laughing making Hoseok feel stupid for saying anything- he knew damn well that you didn’t do relationships. ‘okay, okay whatever, forget i said that then’ you continued to laugh at him, looking slightly psychopathic as you tried to understand why he was ever concerned about you hanging around with his friends. was this seriously the reason? ‘you can’t be serious right now. Hoseok, seriously? please tell me that’s not why you didn’t want me to be around your friends.’ Hoseok let his head hang like he knew something, unable to answer your question. ‘im sorry, it just that they’re... well...’ you grinned knowing exactly what he was thinking. ‘fuckboys?’ he laughed and then threw you a look. ‘hey that’s my friends your talking about.’ he teasingly threatened you as you recalled your little promise thing you had with your brother.

‘hey come on,’ Hoseok nudged your arm as if to comfort you slightly. ‘its not like anything too bad. i promise to you that we will never be torn apart.’ you looked longingly at your dad and the huge house that stood behind him. well, it was pretty big to compare you. ‘promise?’ you asked questioningly. you didn’t have a clue what he was on about. ‘yeah, you know, its like, something you cant break, no matter what. if i make a promise and break it, then im untruthful and horrible and don’t deserve anything from you. so if i promise that we will never be tore apart then nothing will ever happen to break us.’ you smiled and hugged his arms tightly, slightly smearing the melted chocolate on your fingers over his shirt. he looked down at you to see you pulling a grimaced face. ‘what?’ he frowned at you. ‘i don’t want to be torn apart, that would be gross!’ he swung his head back at your comment and leaned his head on top of yours, worn out from laughing. 

‘you know if you really wanted, we could seal our promise.’ you heard Hoseoks voice from above you. ‘how would you do that wizard Hobi?’ he laughed at the nickname you had give him. ‘well... give me your pinky finger.’ you held out your hand and tied your smallest finger around his. ‘i, Wizard Hobi, promise that i will never let anything come between us, no matter what.’ he sat straight as he let his promise seal by squeezing his finger. you looked up and followed. ‘i, apprentice y/n, promise to never let anything to come between us either, even if you annoy me.’ Hoseok hung his moth open at your words and swung himself at you, tickling you. ‘Y/n, Hoseok! time to come in!’ you both stopped laughing as you ran towards the house, not knowing what was to come of you both next.

you looked down at your hand realizing that you had grabbed hold of Hoseoks smallest finger. ‘don’t forget our promise Hoseok.’ you smiled up at him looking at his surprised face. ‘Im surprised you remember that. you were so young.’ you shrugged pulling a face and began to walk off. ‘come on slow-coach, your drinks with us.’ you grinned looking back at him as you walked over to sit back where you were. ‘Took you long enough.’ Tae looked up at you grinning but almost looking concerned. ‘mm-hm, did you miss me?’ you asked teasingly hoping to remove some of the tension you had left behind. he just looked back at you, signalling with his hand for you to sit next to him.

after furiously trying to get the boys to wash and go home, they had finalized on staying. you appreciated them helping you clean up the place at half ten in the morning seeming that your two real roommates hadn’t woke up yet, but it was slightly awkward. you had to put up with Hoseok lecturing you and teasing you at the same time about how the room was a mess to begin with and was never really clean before the party, then you had Namjoon and Jin acting like parents and constantly asking Jimin to behave himself after he knocked over a vase and the tried to scavenge for leftover beer. not to mention Tae still flirting with you right in front of Hoseok. you had got his number while cleaning. really y/n? Jungkook was cleaning and helping, but he seemed to busy looking at Margot’s door, waiting for it to open. The guy that was sitting in the corner all night had woken up and you had learnt that his name was Yoongi. he was really attractive, tall, not as tall as the others, deep black hair that was slightly curled and look so soft you just anted to run your hand through it. you didn’t bother him though, just occasionally said the few ‘sorry’s’ when bumping into each other and ‘thank you’s’ when he handed you something. other than that he stayed quite, subtly glancing in your direction. he seemed tired but he was hungover and probably having a small withdrawal from being high all night. you had decided to get him a drink and aspirin, so instead you just made everyone more coffee.

you went into the kitchen and put the kettle on again as you rubbed your eyes from the lack of sleep you had got. ‘making more coffee?’ the voice startled you and you almost dropped the cups you were carrying over to the grinned beans. Taehyung stood leaning against the counter behind you giving you a look from his tilted head and raised eyebrows. he was really attractive, even if his clothes stunk of the night before and had the occasional beer stain on his thigh. his Blonde hair swept across his face, his fringe slightly parted showing the smallest amount of skin. mullets were never really your thing, but damn it looked good on him. his skin was a stunning light mocha colour, a bit like Jungkook’s but darker, which blended amazingly with his pink long lips. not to mention the fact that he wore tight fake leather trousers that tightened perfectly around his muscles in his thighs. you only realized you were staring when he chuckled lowly, making you spin back around trying hard not to blush. dammit. 

you had never really felt like that around someone before, you didn’t get into relationships, you didn’t catch feelings, you certainly never felt embarrassed just for looking at someone. i mean, yeah, you found people attractive and hot, and occasionally you slept with a few people just for that. you had that sort of effect you guessed, people would approach you and whether you were in the mood or not, you’d go along with them. and that’s about it- it never turned into anything else. but the effect that Tae had on you was different. probably just his looks- you’d never seen anyone like it. of course you thought you shouldn’t do anything about it, he was your brothers best friend. you dreaded to think of what his reaction would be if he ever caught you with one of them. probably not wonderfully to be honest. still though, who could blame you for checking him out, he was a literally piece of walking art.

you spun back around, full confidence back. you saw no reason to why you should be embarrassed anyways, you always did it, he shouldn’t be any different. god why were you overthinking this so much? you reached up to the shelf where the sugar was kept, lifting your top up slightly. not intentionally. or was it? christ, what was going on with you? ‘you want one?’ you slyly glanced back over to the male leaning against the wall. he shrugged as if that was supposed to make you understand his answer, when you saw him looking at you bare waist. you rolled your eyes and made one for everyone anyways. ‘you know i gave you my number right?’ he asked while you got all the cups onto a tray. ‘oh really,’ you said sarcastically ‘i didn’t know that was what it was.’ you smiled at him as you walked past, knowing he had just rolled his eyes. ‘alright smart ass, i meant i don’t usually give people it, so you had better use it.’ ‘oh yeah ‘cause im sure hope would be real happy about that.’ you chuckled at him as you spun back around after placing the coffees down. he frowned at your comment which made you blush, realising that you hadn’t actually told any of them that he was your brother. ‘and why would that matter, you told me you weren’t together?’ his frown continued to stick to his face as you stumbled on your words, unsure of how to break it to him. why was this such a big deal to you? its not like its a bad thing being his sister.

Tae had just began to speak again when the door burst open, filling the room with giggles and the rustling of bags. Margot and Skylar had just entered with some shopping bags and food bags, each holding an iced tea each. they both looked up and was about to come up to you as if they were going to tell a story, but then they must’ve caught a glimpse of the others and gave you a ‘what the fuck...’ face. you hissed at the awkwardness that had suddenly filled the room as you ran and dragged the other two with their bags into the closest empty room. ‘y/n what the hell? i would ask why you have so many good looking guys in the same room as you, but i’d rather as why do you have so many good looking guys with you cleaning the living room?’ Margot looked dumbfounded which kind of made you laugh, which clearly wasn’t a good idea. Skylar looked at you with a look that probably meant something but honestly you didn’t have a clue, she just looked like she was talking to you in her head. ‘they didn’t go home last night because i stayed up with them, and then they chose to help, okay?’ Margot puffed air harshly from her mouth while she threw her hands around the air above her. ‘yeah i can see that, but why haven’t they left yet?’ ‘wait a second, i thought that you two were in your rooms? why did you leave?’ you rose your eyebrows in confusion at Margot, and Skylar who still had the same look on her face. ‘we left so that you could politely ask them to leave when you woke up.’ now it was your turn to waft you hands above your head. ‘you expected me to do it? this party was you idea in the first place!’

you and Margot continued to harshly whisper at each other when Skylar finally butted into the conversation. ‘okay, okay, first of all, at least they’re the ones cleaning up and not us, second of all, whatever as long as you know them that’s fine right? and last, how the hell do you know that many good looking guys?’ ‘ id didn’t even know you knew that many people to be honest.’ Margot added. she chuckled at herself while you smiled and rolled your eyes. ‘its just my brother and his friends, and the guy you supposedly slept with last night by the way.’ you aimed at Margot, ‘ but they don’t know that hope is my brother yet okay?’ you saw a sense of dread in Margot’s face at you comment, clearly focusing on Jungkook while Skylar had a bright red cheeks. ‘christ Skylar, relax, i know you have a thing for my brother okay?’ you winked at her making her stutter something like ‘no, hes just hot’ while you walked back out into the living room, hearing Margot whisper to herself nervously. 

you walked over to the boys giggling to yourself, while they all gave you a face. ‘i take it they didn’t expect for us to be here.’ Tae asked coyly. you shot a look back at him and you couldn’t help but look down at his spread out legs. ‘no not really, but they’re chill for you to stay longer, if you want too.’ you brought your eyes back up to his and then around the room to everyone else. you weren’t sure if anyone had realised you staring at Tae’s legs but you didn’t think too much of it. you went and sat down next to the open space in between Hoseok and Jimin, your brothers arm automatically swinging around to your back, getting another look from Tae, reminding you of your earlier conversation. shit. you didn’t know why you were so uncomfortable with him knowing, but it made you anxious. maybe it was more how it could affect your relationship? god how pathetic.

remembering your earlier conversations with Tae, you reached into your back pocket while the others around you chatted, occasionally laughing. you didn’t really pay attention when you unfolded the little piece of paper you had dug out and began adding a new number to your contacts. looking up you made eye contact with Taehyung, his deep eyes staring right back into yours, slightly tilted with a frown. a grin grew at the corner pf your mouth as you started to type a new message.  

‘stop eyeing me, if you want something, you can just ask sweetie.’-you

you waited patiently for Tae to look back to his phone, praying that he didn’t have his ringer on for the rest of the boys to know it was him you were texting. Tae frowned further as he began to pick out his phone from his back pocket and opening you message, you saw him grinning back at you from the corner of you eye as you brought them down, tying not to pay attention. you diverted your attention back to the room where you had left Margot and Skylar. they still hadn’t come out. you grinned. pussy's.

‘don’t dare me, i just might. just as long as i can get whatever i want’

you rolled your eyes at your new message notification, you knew damn well he could get what he wanted, it just depended on what it was. ‘who are you talking to?’ Hoseok turned his attention towards you, a grin on his face. he must’ve seen you stupidly smiling down at the screen. ‘school, I've got a major biology test Tuesday and i haven’t even looked at any revision. apparently no one else has either, they all came to the party instead.’ you psychologically patted yourself on your back for the quick comeback lie.

‘Im just a school groupchat to you? ouch’-Tae

 he laughed and raised his eyebrows. ‘wow, who knew that you could be so daring. i just thought that you were always a bod.’

‘oh don’t i know how daring you are?’-Tae

 you snorted at his comment, trying not to laugh from Tae’s previous message. ‘for your information, i throw the best parties here- which is a fact- and secondly, hunny im in college, we don’t have ‘bods’. i take my work seriously.’ ‘oh yeah it really sounds like it to me.’ you rolled your eyes at your brothers last comment. as if he knows.

‘so are you gonna keep talking about college or are you gonna actually have some fun with me?’-Tae

‘well it depends what you want sweetie.’-you

you looked back over to Tae before looking around the room, seeing if the others were paying attention.

‘don’t look so anxious,no ones looking. all i want is a simple question.’-Tae

‘okay, sure. just one though. that’s all you’ve earned.’-you

you could see from sweeping the room again that Tae was grinning at you, his eyes switching between his moving thumbs and your expression.

‘Well do you want a question or not? hurry up or you get nothing from me. also, stop frowning, you’ll ruin that pretty face of yours ;)’-you

Tae poked the tip of his tongue out and ran it over his lips, spread widely into a smirk. he chuckled when he saw your eyes tracing the outline of his mouth making you raise your eyebrows as if questioning him to hurry up.

‘sorry for disappointing you with my boring question baby, but i have to know, whats the real relationship status between you and Hoseok?’-Tae

your stomach dropped, and you couldn’t tell if it was disappointment or anxiousness. it wasn’t Hoseok that was was the problem. what if he didn’t want to do anything more if you told him? surely he would mind, its his best friend. what if he felt guilty? what if cared more about one friendship than the other? what if-

fortunately for your racing mind and thumb muscles for hovering them over your keyboard, Margot and Skylar had walked into the living room, clearly wanting to say something to everyone. Skylar winked at you and you smiled back at her, but her face turned bright red again making you the one to frown this time. ‘so, seeming that this is technically my place, i make the rules.’ you rolled your eyes while smirking when you saw Jungkook staring intently at her. Yoongi swooped his head over to Margot as though he had been looking at you while the others listened carefully. ‘i don’t mind any of you staying here,’ her emphasis on you seemed to be directly towards Jungkook which made you smile. ‘as long as you don’t dick around and end up braking something. and that goes for everyone, Hoseok, i don’t care whether you’re y/n’s brother or not-’ she stopped mid sentence, your eyes wide staring right at her. around you, you heard Jin aggressively spit out his drink he had gotten all over the floor and bit over Namjoon, while Jimin stared right at you and Hoseok repeatedly, backwards and forwards. Jungkook was laughing at Margot’s frozen expression, and to your surprise, Yoongi was sitting in the corner laughing, as if he preferred you more. you managed to bring your eyes back up to Tae who was slightly holding his mouth open but smiling at the same time. 

‘thank you, Margot, really i appreciate it.’ Hoseok grinned while he rubbed his nose with his index finger and thumb before pinching the top and sighing loudly. you chuckled while looking down but it was instantly snatched away towards the direction in which Yoongi was sitting. and he just smiled back at you. wonderful.

im sorry it took so long for this shitty chapter, but ill try and escalate it as i do a few more chapters. i don’t know when the next chapter will even be out but i will try my hardest to keep it updated. also i didn’t proof read this so sorry for any spelling mistakes but i honestly cant be arsed, i hate proof reading :))- anon suga xx

all gifs belong to rightful owner 

[elsaclack]

for your favorite song + line request: "I know everybody goes to the same dark places / Sometimes in the dead of night when you think you can't make it / You might find I left a light beside the bed for you / Cause I've been there, too" - same dark places (jr jr)

“sometimes in the dead of night when you think you can’t make it, you might find i left a light beside the bed for you, ‘cause i’ve been there, too”

It’s the loneliness, he thinks, that is the most profound.

That emptiness in his chest, somehow all-encompassing and minuscule at the same time. All-encompassing in the way it seems to surge through his very bones, to pull at the tired bags beneath his dry eyes and the perpetually-tugged-down corners of his mouth; minuscule in its insignificance when considering the grand scheme of the universe as a whole.

It’s exhausting, frankly.

And yet, it persists.

For a long, long time, it festers in isolation. He drags himself to his daily obligations and drags himself back home again, and the world in general should count itself lucky that he somehow manages to produce the effort it takes to make himself decent every day. Because if he had it his way - or, more accurately, if it had it its way - he’d never don anything aside from a pair of boxers and a hole-riddled undershirt from the bottom of his drawer.

(Laundry’s already a challenge on a good day.)

But then she comes around, and she has this way about her. This starshine - this light - that ignites the deepest shadows. The darkness fights against her but it’s undeniable - its grip around him has loosened, and each day, he gets closer and closer to breaking its grip around him for good. Because of her.

He’s not quite there yet. But that’s okay - that’s what she tells him. It’s okay, as long as he remembers that no matter what, she’s here. She’s here, and she’s not going anywhere.

The darkness is cyclical, thankfully (and unfortunately). It comes in waves. Some waves are bigger than others - some are outright tsunamis - but they always, eventually ebb.

Perhaps the knowledge that it’s only a matter of when is what abets the movement of said ebb; either way, it never fails, so his concern for his own well-being never flairs much further than a passing thought.

The same cannot be said of his concern for her well-being.

Her darkness, while similar to his in so many ways (and it’s just like the two of them to be similar in this respect in addition to the laundry list of similarities unfurling further and further every day), is different in its approach. It’s sneakier - it’s meaner - it’s more unpredictable. While his sets on like a hazy summer afternoon, hers is sharp and unforgiving in its accuracy. His is triggered by the most innocuous things; hers explodes spectacularly, usually on the heels of an epic failure - or, at least, on what she deems to be an epic failure.

Because god knows that for all of their similarities, her measurement of her own failure is so much more harsh than his.

She’d probably string him up by his toes if she knew just how downright panicky he’s feeling about the whole thing. She’d admonish him verbally - maybe accentuate it with a gentle-but-firm smack to his upper arm - and then she’d retreat even further into herself, drawing ever farther away from him. Which would only serve to exacerbate his concern - and so on and so forth.

It’s a vicious cycle, and he’s helpless to it, left floundering on the shore to watch her struggle against the riptide.

He does what he can. Jokes like he doesn’t notice her hands shaking from sleeplessness and lost appetite, smiles like he can’t tell the answering quirk of her lips is twitchy and hardly even enough to be considered a grimace. He makes her favorite meals from childhood and orders her favorite takeout and sits beside her on the couch to gladly, excitedly watch the backlog of documentaries eating a hole through their DVR from the last month. Sometimes she holds his hand. Sometimes she tucks her blanket around her legs and crosses her arms over her stomach, ensuring no inch of her is in direct contact with him.

Sometimes she forgoes the couch completely to lay in their bed, her back to the bedroom door, staring out the window.

He pretends like he doesn’t notice the tear stains on her pillow case the next morning.

He’s trying.

And yet, it persists.

It leaves him listless most nights, scrolling through article after article on his phone, searching for the right answer. Because there is a right answer, here, he can feel it in his bones - there’s a way to strike that delicate balance between loving concern and being outright overbearing. There’s a way to coax her back without invalidating what she’s feeling, what she’s drowning in.

There’s an answer - he just hasn’t found it yet.

They’re due back at the precinct tomorrow morning - Captain Holt only gave them a week, and really, seven days just isn’t enough time to fully come to terms with how spectacularly her last case fell apart. He’s toggling back and forth between the fifteenth article of the night and the half-drafted, poorly-worded email to Holt asking for a few more days - when he hears her footsteps creaking down the hall.

He locks the screen and tucks his phone beneath his thigh.

“Hey,” her voice is hoarse, scratchy. She’s still partially hidden around the doorway, but he can see her whole face, illuminated by the lamp still blazing on the side table to his left and the neon lights pouring through the windows from the street below. She looks tired - she looks like hell - she looks one breath away from slipping into the abyss.

(She always says he’s got an over-dramatic streak; he always says that he gets it from Gina.)

“Hi,” he says, doing his best to keep his tone neutral, because he knows exactly how grating it is to hear that nurse’s how are you feeling tone of voice, how infuriating it is to feel like someone is coddling you, babying you, belittling you.

The line of her mouth seems to flatten for a moment, but then she’s glancing down, examining a chip in the wooden doorframe below the heel of her hand. “You comin’ to bed soon?”

He nods.

She purses her lips, glances around the room, and then looks back at him. “Everything okay?”

He hesitates. It’s obvious to anyone with even the faintest grasp on the situation that everything is most certainly not okay, but he knows that she knows that. The space between them feels heavy; the space between them feels insurmountable and impossible.

There’s probably an article out there about it.

He hesitates, and then he smiles. “Yeah,” he nods, hands tucked beneath his thighs. “Just - thinking.”

He sees the muscles of her throat work as she swallows, her eyes moving as she studies his face, and then she’s nodding, too. “Me too.” she confesses, voice small.

His heart is broken into so many fragile little pieces. Broken for the case, for all five victims, for her.

She shifts on her feet, pulling away, stepping back a few inches further into the hall. “I left a light on for you, whenever you come back.”

He clenches his jaw, digs the pads of his fingers into his thighs, and nods. “Thanks, babe.” he says softly.

The softest, faintest smile twitches across her lips. “You’re welcome.”

She’s gearing up to move again, he’s only got a half-second before she’s gone, and he’s grasping at straws, at moonbeams, at the grains of dust swirling through the shafts of light behind him and between them and the bottomless cavern threatening to swallow her whole. “I - I left one on for you, too,” he says, voice taking on that funny choked filter that only emerges with his most raw emotions.

She pauses, hand still clutching the door frame, nail beds going white beneath the force of her suddenly-tightened grip.

“I know you don’t wanna talk about it,” he starts, schooling his voice, forcing himself to stay low and soothing. “I don’t wanna make you talk about it. Not ‘til you’re ready. Not ever, if you don’t wanna talk to me about it. But I just - god. I love you so much, Amy, and it’s - it’s killing me, watching this eat you alive. I’ve been researching the hell out of this, trying to figure out what I can do to make it better, but…I should know better than that. I should know better, because I’ve been there, too. I know - I know.” He can only see half of her face around the door frame, and the way the shadows fall across her features makes it difficult to accurately gauge her reaction, but he’s fairly confident that her lower lip is quivering. “I’m not trying to push you into doing anything that you’re not comfortable with. That’s the last thing I want. And I’ll never bring this up again if you don’t want me to. But Amy - Ames - I love you so much. So much. And I need you to know that I’m always gonna keep a light on for you. Always.”

The quiver is undeniable now - it and the tears brimming in her tired, blood-shot eyes - and the next thing he knows she’s burying herself in him, body tucked haphazardly against his side, face safely hidden in the juncture of his shoulder and neck. And she’s cracked open, and the darkness is a rushing whirlpool all around her, he can feel its slimy tendrils licking at her skin - but his grip around her is tight, firm, persistent. She’s cracked open and spilling everywhere and it’s taking everything in him to not release some kind of primal war cry in a neandertholic attempt at scaring her demons away. It’s taking everything in him to keep the whispered stream of soothing nonsense steady against her hairline, to keep the salty tears spilling from his own eyes from slipping between his lips and her temple.

She clings to him like he’s her lifeline; he clings to her because she’s his.

And later, when they’re in bed and her face is pleasantly expressionless against his chest, he strokes her hair with one hand and finishes the email to Holt with the other. Because she deserves a few days to recuperate from the hell the last few days have been; she deserves a few days to adjust to this newfound peace, to even out the ripples still disrupting her existence, to settle back into herself and to stretch out the joints that are creaking and the muscles that are burning.

There’s a very good chance, his darkness whispers, that this peace won’t last. That sooner or later his darkness will return, that hers won’t be long after, that the two of them will sink into their own separate purgatories, helpless to save each other. There’s a chance he’ll fail again, there’s a chance he’ll fail her, there’s a chance that he’ll lose everything good, that he’ll no longer be worthy of her or the peace she offers him.

But he pushes that whisper away with little more than a tired, half-conscious hum. Because they’re both wrapped up in peace and in each other. Because that’s enough for now.

And it persists.

[twopintsandaprayer]

i’m going to mainline some tylenol and forget that this whole afternoon existed

I see a therapist, like a real live person, at the beginning of may. I’m so utterly petrified that I’m going to say the wrong thing and undermine the help that I need. I wish, like I always do, like I have always, always wished that I knew the right thing to say and the right way to act. I need to be honest, and calm, and somehow condense my 20 plus years of medical history and my fucked-up family life into a succinct, half-hour session. I have to trust this person immediately, be open, be attentive. that’s ...a tall order. like I said, I’m petrified that I won’t say what I’m supposed to in order to make my case and I’ll be dropped from priority. I come across as....well, as not really that ill.  My psychiatrist called me defensive and combative. which I am. it’s not a pleasant trait but my god its firmly in there.  I’ve been living with depression since I was about 10 but it’s not...not very visible. It takes a very long time for that sadness to be apparent to someone else. It comes across as hostility and nihilistic humour, to be honest. I don’t like admitting it to myself, how deeply this combination of futility/self-loathing goes. It comes on like it’s never left. I think I failed my exam today. I’ve been contemplating dropping out of school completely because I don’t really see the point in continuing. the margin for error is so so small and I am unforgiving towards any mistakes when I could have tried so much harder. I don’t really know how to fight, you know? And it’s all so horrible, self-reinforcing. I know, point-blank, I have no reason to be like this. Yeah, emotional abuse from my father and my mother probably is autistic and is entirely too logical and judgmental for a fuck up like me as a daughter. also she was horribly horribly emotionally abused for like, a long ass time. - like I learned no coping skills or emotional regulation and I have like, negative self-worth and I have always been super super intense, childish, and the last to pick up on any emotional cues. that’s all pretty small stuff though, like everyone has a shitty childhood? my life has been pretty privileged, I cannot deny that at all. my psychiatrist keeps looking for trauma, reasons for me being like this. I don’t...really know how to explain to him that there’s no real reason, I’ve just always been this way. too loud, too close, too possessive, too needy, too young, too slow, too judgmental, too constantly seeking validation. Wholly, completely self-centered. Emotionally manipulative. I look into my memories and there is barely anything real, it’s all just a miasma of anxiety and talking over people. like, I don’t remember what things were like when I liked myself? I must have, at some point. I don’t remember when doing stuff didn’t fill me with fear, when the memories of good times weren’t tainted by my fuckups. And the constant, constant need to be liked, to have some kind of purpose, connection, something real. Some reason to keep getting up and putting myself through all this. The amount of friendships I have ruined or that have slipped through my fingers, or I have undervalued, or I have strained, just by being me. I never, ever, know it’s going to happen until it does. There’s an inevitability to it. I mean, my father was a lovely person, until you got to know him. He would give you the shirt off his back but he’d never, ever apologize for anything. We were all happier when he lived on a separate continent. IK mean, we talked all the time and we saw him a couple times a year. But the day to day living? That’s...that’s the kind of distance my presence requires. He knew he made us that unhappy. He was so terribly unhappy himself. He had plenty of reasons. I miss him a lot. We’re basically the same person. Unhappiness just kind of oozes out, infecting everyone around us. It’s hard to see at first. But it’s there. You feel it once you get to know me. 

How do I describe that to someone I don’t know? I can barely describe it to myself. I can barely type it without crying. How inevitable and ingrained this unhappiness is. And there’s no reason for it. It’s just...it’s like I’m missing something. Some piece of humanity that would make me real. That would make what I do sincere and normal. I know I have an issue with boundaries. I know I come across way way way way too much way too quickly.  It’s been a constant refrain since I was about 10: if only I didn’t need people, I would be all right. I don’t know what I’ve done until after the fact, until its too late. Needless, endless apologies should be my tagline. 

it’s just so horribly lonely. I’m so tired of being alone. I’m constantly trapped by and surrounded by my own self-hatred. It’s so cliche it makes me sick of myself. I don’t have any reason to be this hard on myself. I don’t have any reason to be this depressed. I can barely qualify as having depression. I just ...don’t see any point? Of living? Of trying?  I don’t remember what it was like not to feel this way. I don’t think I was ever normal. 

it’s this constant struggle of ‘I have a mental illness’ and ‘no i’m just lazy and entitled and I don’t want to do the work I just want perfect results’ and ‘I don’t have a legitimate reason to be this way’ and ‘I really cannot handle this for another second’. My whole family is the type to say they’re fine when they are literally crying their eyes out/in severe amounts of pain/ready to collapse/at their limits. everything’s fine, fine, fine, always fine. 

i do know that in the end, the only one who can save me is me. i just don’t really see any reason to. Like, I keep grasping at straws? I can’t kill myself though, I can’t do that to my mother or my brother. The thought of living for another 40 years (I mean, my diabetic complications will probably get me sooner than that) just feels me with dread and exhaustion though. The primary reason I don’t want to have kids (other than medical, cause I’m on too much medication that’s rough on a fetus) is because I don’t want to be resentful towards my kid for having to stay alive for them. Who can I say that to? How horrible does that make me sound? What a fucking load of shite, I’m so full of it. For some stupid reason, I thought things would just be better? I thought being on meds, and having a stable life, and being back at school after fucking it up so badly the first time, that I’d be better? 

It’s a wasteland, though. The space between not wanting to live and not being able to die. It takes such constant effort to keep all my shit in check. everythin just spilling out everywhere. 

But I’m just...like this. This is just the way that I am. I’m so sick of myself. I can’t fully put it into words how much I hate myself. All these opportunities and possibilities and a life that’s been free of trauma and responsibilities, and I’m just ...kind of a waste? A big ole burden on my family and friends? It’s...the weight of that makes it hard to breathe. It makes it really hard to try to do anything and it’s so fucking stupid. Just this big old cycle of never ending uselessness. I don’t really believe I can do anything. Everything, friendships, communication, school work, organizing shit, engaging with things, meeting up with friends, keeping my life together. All of it is ...more than I’m really able to handle. Everything’s a bit too much? Like i was supposed to tell my bank that I’m a student by november. I got the letter and everything. 

I just never went with it to the bank. 

Still haven’t. 

Thats such a microcosm for my life. All the materials, all the ability, all the chances, all the ducks lined up in a row and then...nothing. Just a disappointment and a missed chance. 

I can’t believe I’m 32. Nothing but my own self-hatred to keep me company from here on it.  Well. And my cats. I am though, a bad cat owner. keeping these hellbeasts inside is more than I am capable of. Haha, that’s pretty low on the priority list though. 

This is the work that I need to do. I don’t have a clue how to approach it. That’s what I need help with. Finding something to hold on too. It’s getting harder and harder as I get older. It shouldn’t, because my life is actually so much better now that it was. The bad stuff just gets harder and harder to walk back from. I think it’s the loneliness? I wish I wasn’t so horribly horribly lonely. My choices are always, do it alone or don’t do anything at all. Reach out and be rejected. Reach out and panic when someone reaches back. Reach out and alienate the person forever. Reach out and be told it was not my place. Fail, again and again to differentiate. Fail, again and again to learn. 

anyway. Tylenol. sleep. one more week of exams. 

my marks are going to be so horrible this year.