AAAA So You Know That Feeling When You See A Cute Person In Public? Yeah Thats What This Is Inspired

AAAA so you know that feeling when you see a cute person in public? yeah that’s what this is inspired by hehe thank you for 90 followers by the way!! i love you all :(

passerby — hrj.

in which you had to do a double take when you saw him for the first time.

—

“you won’t believe what happened to me earlier!” you’re giggling as you plop down into the cushioned chair in front of your best friend. her eyebrow tilts upwards—she leans forward while blowing at the hot drink in her hands.

some would say she looked uninterested, but you knew her better than that, “i saw the cutest guy on the way here.”

“no way.” yeeun laughs hearing your story before leaning back against her chair.

“yes way! he had on a green beanie and a white—kind of beige—sweater and he looked absolutely dreamy.”

today had been one of your only free days and it just so happened to match up with yeeun’s schedule. so, naturally, you both had decided to put it to good use. the small cozy shop called neo cafe was located near your campus so you had decided to walk the short 15 minutes it took to get there.

he hadn’t really been doing anything boisterous that had caught your attention, he was simply walking alongside a group of boys, his eyes sparkling as he smiled the prettiest smile you’ve ever seen.

“kind of like the one the boy who’s standing in line’s wearing right now?” yeeun’s eyes were trained behind you when you turned around, eyeing the exact boy you saw.

he was smiling just as he had when you saw him, the same group of friends he was walking with were chatting amongst themselves as your mystery boy talked to the cashier.

“…yeah…” your reply sounded breathless as you watched him take his seat a few tables down. he took off his beanie to reveal dark brown hair that looked so soft.

“you’re totally being creepy right now.” you gasp as you turn towards her, chucking a small piece of your bread towards her.

both of your loud laughs seem to have caught the attention of a couple boys sitting across from the two of you, curious eyes watching as you both laugh your hearts out.

“she’s kinda cute, isn’t she..?”

renjun, whose cheeks burn as his friends tease him, smiles a soft smile as he turns away from your table.

—

this is a little weird but its so :(( i love huang renjun with my whole heart

[4:44 pm]

“babe, your phone’s blowing up.” he feels the vibration of your chest as he pushes himself closer to your neck. “i don’t want toooo.”

jaemin’s whiny voice makes you giggle, your fingers pausing ever so slightly from running themselves through his brown hair.

“but—mark will kill me if you’re late.” your hushed whisper pulls a curse from him as he reluctantly leaves your embrace.

from this tumblr prompt post by @smurfet !

warning/s: angst and crying:(

silence — lmh.

in which he can’t seem to let you love him.

you hadn’t really noticed him, he was always quiet and stuck to his small circle of friends. the boy whose hair never seemed to stay one color, the boy who would only laugh when he was among his friends—the boy whose name was mark lee.

“who?” when your friend had pointed out that he was “so checking you out!”, you didn’t really know how to feel.

your eyes meet his for a brief moment—before he’s looking away a slight blush on his cheeks as his friends erupt into a burst of loud laughter. and it was like the world was on his side, because you started to see more of him.

“i’m so sorry!” his smooth voice distracted you from the sound of your books and papers scattering all over the floor. his movements were frantic as he goes to pick up your fallen items. “it’s okay, really.”

he likes to think it was your smile that had his heart racing, the easygoing and friendly one that always seemed to grace your face. that what he was doing—reaching out, trying to get the chance to talk to you even when he had literally no reason to other than the fact that he liked your voice—was totally reasonable. you could be acquaintances, who talked. almost every day.

“so, how’s it going with y/n?” jaemin would casually bring you up, now that you both were talking on a regular basis. mark felt a weird heat rise from his neck to his ears, stumbling to reply to his younger friend.

“it’s alright. she’s a great girl,” the boys around him let out loud whoops, raising their imaginary glasses in a sort of toast. “i’m happy for you.”

renjun’s smile is gentle as he pats mark’s back. he was scared. truly. he didn’t know why he was feeling the way he did and didn’t believe you could return the way his heart was pounding.

but you did. you loved the way he strummed his guitar with a hidden confidence and the way his eyes would disappear as he laughed. the months you both had spent talking were great and he made you feel the most alive.

there were days where you’d catch his eyes on you and the subtle pink tint on his cheeks as he looks away. you’d find him upset when you were wearing someone else’s jacket. you were sure, so sure that he liked you back. that he would catch you because you were falling. falling for the boy who built a cage around his heart so—

“don’t.” you were confused. don’t?

“don’t love me, y/n.” his sad whisper nails you to your spot in front of him. you had your bag over your shoulder and his jacket around your body.

his eyes stared at you, sad and empty as he pleads with you. “i’m not worth it. not worth your love—“

“is that really your decision to make?” your voice comes out softer than you had liked. you didn’t want to cry but you felt your throat closing as the tears stung the back of your eyes. mark watches closely as you gulp down your feelings, face scrunching as you struggle to hold in the emotions wishing to break free.

his heart was breaking, but this was better. wasn’t it?

“i’m—i don’t love you.”

he had forced the words out. he knew he had to. he didn’t want to let himself feel the way he felt around you—because he could see it all leading down the same path.

“oh.”

your dejected face stayed etched in his mind as you walked away. as the tears won over your stubbornness, falling freely down your cheeks even when you were tugging off his jacket. he watched in silence as you disappeared, from him that night—from his life forever.

this was better. he knew it was. but why did it feel like it wasn’t?

—

my mark drabble debut! it’s sad, but i’m trying to get over my writer’s block huhu ;-;

cry me a river | the gentle heart

— summary: keep your heart warm, no matter how cold they have been to you

— pairing: bts x reader

— genre: angst, mafia!au

— word count: 8.4k

— warnings: emotional/mental abuse, violence, character death, allusions to physical abuse

— a/n: shorter as compared to parts 2 and 3 but i thought this would make a good chapter by itself

— part one / part two / part 3 / part 4

— masterpost “How pathetic of you to bully a child twice your age. Do you have no shame in yourselves?”

Three heads turn your way, two of them a few years older than you and one with her knees on the floor, tears ready to stream down her little cheeks. You know those two older ones, you recognize them. They once served under your mother before she passed away, and although they openly glare at you, they do well with holding their tongues back in the presence of the failed daughter who returned home.

Scramming away without a word, not even apologizing or bowing your way, your brows furrow slightly as you hear their feet scurrying away before turning your attention back on the third maiden.

A poor little soul, clothes torn and dirty, different from the clean ones those ladies had on, with her cheeks puffy red and swollen eyes, tears ready to spill at any second yet she holds them back when you stand before her.

A small little girl.

“How old are you?” You ask in a gentle voice.

“T-thirteen,” she stutters, head lowered.

Thirteen.

Just thirteen years old, already working under the Reapers, meaning her parents probably faced the wrath of your father and were eliminated, or she was simply an orphan child to begin with, having stepped into the wrong line of an alleyway and messed with the wrong people.

You can’t help her, you have no power, and for a second watching the lithe little girl cowering before you, it almost reminds you of the face of the little daughter no one had ever cared for.

You see yourself in her and lower yourself to your knees.

“How long have you been here?” You ask and she answers obediently.

“Two years, my lady.”

Two years, so about a year after you left the Reapers household.

A small bitter chuckle leaves your lips. “Do you know who I am?”

“I…” She looks up timidly, tears still held back but despite it all, you see courage and strength in them. “Y-You’re the...the daughter of..of the boss.”

“That’s right,” you nod, “then you should know that I am not a.. ‘my lady’ to anyone here, right?”

“...” She doesn’t say a word to that, brows furrowing slightly and for a second you almost think her tears are for another reason. “But…”

“I am a nobody in this house. I have no power, so even if I want to help you, I cannot do anything for you. The only thing I can do is drive the presence of my lower subordinates away.” You give a rueful smile. “They do well in leaving the room when I am present. They will not help nor listen to me, but they will leave. So if you should ever need anyone to stop bothering you, just come to me and no one will dare to stay when bathed in my presence.”

You thought that she would nod, listen to your kindness, but instead, she hits you with a question.

“But why?” She asks in her small voice. “Why do they do that, my lady?”

My lady.

You almost want to laugh at the way she’s still calling you that title despite the fact that you’ve already told her of you having no respect in this house.

“I am incompetent,” you simply say. “I am nothing but a pawn,” you pause, giving her a small smile, “a useless pawn. That’s why I returned here, because I couldn’t be made useful to my father or my ex-husband. When you can’t do anything right, when you can’t have an answer as to what you’ve done wrong, when they can’t even give you an explanation...that’s how you come to know that you are unloved and uncared for. That’s how you know that you are useless. And that’s why I came back. Silence holds a lot of answers, little one, and sometimes that silence can damage you so much more than any word can ever do.”

You stand back on your feet, ignoring the small dust particles your dress has picked up from the floor, and begin to walk away from the little girl who watches you with pitiful eyes from behind.

.

.

.

You hadn’t expected her to run to your side that quickly but she does, the very next day, knocking on the door to your room with innocent doe eyes looking up at you. You take one glance to the side and see the back of a man walking away to realize someone was bothering her again.

“Good job.” When you pat her lightly on the head, you see the most sweetest smile with the most precious eyes which turns into crescents at your praise.

She doesn’t speak much, but you find out her name a few days later after her daily visits, yet it becomes too frequent and you begin to grow weary.

“You cannot keep relying on me, Yuna.” A tilt to the side and you know a little girl her age doesn’t understand what you’re saying. “I cannot continue to protect you, you will have to eventually learn to defend your own self.”

Her face falls at your words and you hate the way you know you’ve probably shattered her hope in life. But what else can you do? You can’t even protect your own self.

“If you keep coming to me, my father will eventually find out. If not by himself, then his servants will let him know and no one,” you stress, “wants me to be happy.” Her little brows crease and you let out a small sigh, not wanting to explain this to a child but she has to know. This is the world of the mafia, after all, and concealing her innocence will only harm her.

She has to know.

Otherwise one day she may lose her life if the warnings never reach her ears.

“If you keep staying by my side, if you keep coming to me, and if you let anyone know of our kindness to each other...you will die.”

Her small body freezes in place, her eyes kept still, but you see the fear in them as they begin to tremble and her own body begins to follow soon after. She wants to ask you something, you know, but Yuna can barely even open her mouth without her voice cracking before you.

She wants to know what you mean.

And you let her know.

“You will die,” you repeat, voice a little softer, a little weaker, and a little more frail. Your eyes fall to the floor yet you keep your tears behind, knowing that showing weakness is unpleasant even towards a young child. “You will die, just as the first person who had ever shown me kindness.” She looks at you with an arch of surprise and curiosity and a bitter chuckle leaves you. “Perhaps some servants have wanted to show me kindness, perhaps they’ve wanted to reach out and lend me a hand…but they know the consequences to that. Father will kill them if they ever care for me.”

“They’re cowards.”

You’re surprised by the utter venom that leaves the lips of a small child, surprised by the amount of hatred she holds in her eyes as she speaks of those servants, and a part of you yearns for that sort of courage she has to hate others.

You want to hate others but…

Keep your heart warm, no matter how cold they have been to you.

You take a silent breath in and a silent breath out.

“Perhaps, but it changes nothing, as you can see. No one wants to reach out and no one wants to die. That is why...I cannot protect you, Yuna,” you tell her softly. “Even if you weren’t the one to reach out, if I were to ever care for someone...father will kill them as well. That’s why you shouldn’t associate yourself with me. I will only kill you.”

“No, I…” She shakes her head from side to side, tears welling up along her eyes as if the single thought of leaving you will break her. “You’re the first kindness I’ve ever met.”

Just as Mister Butler was to you. But you killed him in return and you know more than anyone to never do that to a child.

You stand from your seat and turn your back on her. “I will not allow myself to kill a child.”

.

.

.

“What did I tell you?”

Yuna lets her tears fall, it’s the first time she’s ever allowed her tears to fall, and your heart breaks knowing you’re the cause to them. But she quickly goes to wipe them away as if she understands, as if she knows just how much her tears are affecting you. How much of a burden they are to you.

A small child but knowing that someone before her is suffering and hiding her pains. She knows she can’t burden you with her tears when you have your own ones to deal with.

“I..” She clears her throat but even then, when she speaks again, her voice still breaks, “I can’t leave you.” A small sniffle and she looks up at you with such a desperate expression. “Please,” she says as she claps her hands together. “Please, my lady, let me stay, I-...L-let me vow my loyalty to you...only you.”

You frown. “No,” you tell her firmly. “What is the use in giving your loyalty to someone who can’t even defend herself? Need I remind you that I have no power?”

“I don’t care,” she cries and cries. “I’ll serve you. Only you.”

“Yuna—”

“My lady.” A strong voice, broken yet strong, her eyes though filled with tears, are also filled with such determination and for a moment you’re speechless at how earnest and stubborn this little girl is. “Let me serve you.” A knee to the floor and a head bowed. “Until the day I die, my life is in your hands.”

A lost child, orphaned, and hurt, looking for guidance and a parental figure and she finds that in you. Just as you had seen Mister Butler, she sees you in that light and the mere fact of you deserting her will only result in a shattered child with a loss of hope.

How can you ever do that to a child?

You can’t.

You can’t.

“You have to promise me something.” Her eyes widen slightly when she looks up at the frailness in your voice, at the sight of your tears forming along your waterline. You lower yourself before her, meeting her at eye level as you take her small, poor little hands into yours and wrap them up as a mother would a child. “You have to promise.”

“I..I-I’ll do anything for you, my lady.”

“You have to promise me that you won’t love me.”

Yuna freezes in place yet you stay firm and shake your head.

“If you love me, I will not allow you to stay by my side,” you warn her softly. “You got that? The second I see that in your eyes, I will discard you.” She doesn’t say a word so you push her further. “Yuna.”

You’re so small, so small and weak compared to your father, yet the way you speak her name is so commanding Yuna almost loses her composure for a second. Tears fill your eyes, desperation, but at the same time there is strong determination and so much strength in them that Yuna knows right at that second, there is no one else she would rather follow than you.

“I promise.”

The first promise made from the first follower of the ruined Reaper’s daughter.

.

.

.

You’re pushed so hard into the very room you hoped to never return to and stumble onto your feet, causing a hard landing onto the floor. The pain on your shoulder hurts but you pay no mind to it as you rush back onto your feet, not daring to glare at the man who handled you unfairly but pleading at your father instead.

“Please,” you say as you fall to your knees, hands tightly clapped against one another as you look up at him. “P-please don’t keep me here. Anywhere but here.”

A disgusted scoff falls from his lips. “So shameful,” he utters without emotions and it stabs at you in ways you’ve never hurt before because hearing this from a father you love and being reminded of the very words your ex-husband once told you hurts more than anything.

Namjoon still haunts your thoughts everyday just as the rest of them and it hurts. Your stomach twists in ways it’s never done before, filled with heartache and fear which threatens to consume all that you are. Every word that he’s ever spoken to you repeats in your head and you try to block them out by covering your ears but that stops nothing.

His words stab countless needles into your heart.

Stop it, please stop.

“You’re a grown woman yet you still dare to shed your pitiful tears before me? If you really wanted respect, you wouldn’t dare show your tears nor bend a knee to anyone.”

“Please, father, I—”

“Useless. Utterly useless.” He turns his back to you without another word and just as he begins to walk away, you see the little girl that has vowed her loyalty unto you, eyes filled with so much hatred as her jaws clenches hard.

Yet you shake your head her way, losing faith, and her eyes which shows so much disgust and protest is the last thing you see before the door is slammed shut before your face.

The wind hits you hard and you’re reminded once more of another scene with Namjoon.

The first and last fight you had with him when he had shut you out and everything began to fall apart.

You can feel your body trembling as you try your best to avoid the condition of the White Room, knowing more than anyone how terrifying it is. Perhaps it may look like an ordinary room to just anyone, a once white room that’s now filled with black and dirty marks like jagged knife scrapes, but to you, it is a nightmare.

A nightmare you can’t seem to ever escape.

You crawl yourself to a corner, facing the wall so you don’t have to see anything, and push your knees so close to your chest. Then with a bit of discomfort from your aching shoulder, you hug yourself as you begin to rock your body back and forth.

It’s comforting in a way.

Comforting.

Comforting.

It’s supposed to be comforting and keep you away from the fears but how can this ever be a form of comfort anymore after you’ve had people who were by your side to hold you?

“But they’re gone,” you whisper to yourself. “Gone…”

A tear falls and another falls and you shake. You tremble hard.

“Hoseok,” you hear yourself call out a name. “Hoseok please…” You don’t know what you’re begging for because he’s gone now, you’ve pushed him away, left him alone to deal with the problems for himself. You left him, you left them all.

Yet…

“Hoseok, I...I’m scared. I’m so scared.”

“You can come to me.” You hear his voice in the back of your mind, so soft, so gentle, as he holds out his arms for you. You want those arms, to collapse into them, to let them hold you and take all the fears away. He loved you still and maybe Hoseok could have been the key to fixing the relationship but you were too afraid to find out. You want to hold onto him and rely on him yet at the same time, you’re afraid of him.

And now they’re gone, the promise is gone, just as you will never be able to go to Hoseok ever again.

“What do I do...what do I do, Hoseok? Who do I rely on now? There’s no one but me yet I...I scare myself the most. What do I do, Hoseok?” You cry pitiful tears and your voice breaks and fails at times but almost as if thinking alone won’t help you, as if you have a chance at him hearing you if you were to speak your thoughts aloud...he’d come.

“Please save me...Please hold me...Hoseok…”

Yet no one comes.

And no one ever would.

Ever again.

.

.

.

“Why?!”

You fall quiet when Yuna expresses her anger for the first time ever.

“Why do you just let him do that to you?! Why didn’t you fight back?!”

Why indeed. Why, why, why? You ask yourself that every day yet the same answer comes back to you every single time.

“To survive,” you tell her. “That is the only way I can survive.”

“But don’t you want to live and not just survive?!”

Of course you do. Of course.

But how? How can you?

You want to scream and shout and blame the world for the life it’s given you, faulting it for every single thing that has happened to you but how can you? How can you blame anyone else for your very own life choices?

Keep your heart warm.

Keep your heart warm.

“It’s my fault for being weak and useless.”

“No, that’s not it.” Yuna cries and cries for you. She gets angry, gets upset, and wants to hurt others for you. Just for you. “You can’t blame everything on yourself because none of this is your fault.”

You shake your head, not wanting to hear any comforting words at the moment because it reminds you of them, of what they once were before the coldness got to them.

Keep your heart warm, no matter how cold they have been to you.

Cold. The room is so cold.

“Please leave,” you ask Yuna without sparing her a glance and you know, you know she wants to protest but you can’t have her in the room no longer. She will only give you false hope and you can’t love anyone anymore.

They’ll all leave in the end.

“Leave.” So you decide to shut them out first. “You’ll die if he ever finds out you’re only loyal to me.” It’s an excuse, an excuse, and although Yuna probably understands that, she knows not to go against your words. “So please leave.”

Keep your heart warm.

You don’t have the heart to look at her because you know she’s probably crying for you, wanting to help, to reach out and lend a hand. But you can’t take it, you can’t even allow her to hold her hand out in the first place.

She’ll leave in the end, just like the rest of them.

.

.

.

“What happened to you?”

It aches a little but you allow Yuna to apply some poultice on the shoulder you injured when that man had pushed you onto the floor a few days ago. You couldn’t get it treated yourself, not since you were locked up in the White Room for around three days, and although you had hoped to keep it a secret from Yuna, she eventually found out and is now tending to you.

“The shoulder?” You ask a question with a question.

“No,” she shakes her head. “I know how you got that and I’ll deal with him late—”

“No.” You quickly say in a firm voice. “You can disobey my orders with anything else but interfering with anything that involves my father or openly standing up for me is an absolute no. I will not kill a child.”

Yuna falls silent for a moment, eyes a little fearful when you stare down at her but eventually she nods solemnly.

“I’m sorry, my lady.”

Keep your heart warm, your voice echoes in your head and you let out a sigh. “You’re a good kid,” you say with a small pat to her head, “I don’t want you dying for my sake. Being like this is already dangerous enough but luckily no one enters my private room. You have to be careful.”

“Yes, my lady.”

You turn around once more to allow her to continue tending to your shoulder. “What were you trying to ask?”

“I…” her hand pauses mid-air, “I wanted to know why...why you returned,” Yuna asks. “Aren’t you afraid of your father? Unless...Mr. Kim was worse?”

“No,” you shake your head lightly. “Mr. Kim treated me much more fairly than father could ever do.”

“Then why?”

You fall silent for a moment and the room echoes in silence, but Yuna doesn’t say a word. She knows how to be patient, she knows when it isn’t the right time to speak, when to listen well, and that is what she does. She listens to your silence, until the moment you can speak again.

Yuna listens.

“I fell in love.”

She remains silent but you know she’s surprised by your answer to her simple question, a question that hurts to hear, a question that hurts to answer, and a question that keeps swarming in your own head every single day.

Even if Namjoon and the others didn’t love you anymore, you could have stayed, safely and securely from the pain of your father, from the trauma he has instilled onto you.

It was one of the toughest decisions to ever make and even now you wonder if you’ve made the right one.

Even if Namjoon and the others no longer loved you, you could have lived hiding away from your father.

“He loved me too...they all did.”

But staying with them has hurt you far more than you could have ever imagined.

“They?”

“Mr. Kim had six lovers before me, before the marriage, and they were the ones to fall in love first. I was scared then, scared of their love, afraid that one day I’d be left abandoned and some misfortune would befall us if I were to accept their love. I was afraid of falling.”

You remember the kindness they held in that moment, the soft hands which caressed you so gently, the kind whispers, the tender smiles and touches. You remember it as if it were yesterday. Yet yesterday is no longer, just as that precious moment.

“They made me a vow, a promise. They promised to catch me when I fell. And fell I did, pretty hard. They caught me though, just as they promised to. But just as they caught me...they were also the very ones who dropped me and shattered me.”

You aren’t even sure if your words make sense to a thirteen years old but it doesn’t matter.

Nothing matters.

“...Oh.” Yet Yuna responds well. “Why?” She asks. “Why did they catch you just to let you fall?”

“...That’s a very good question,” you say with a rueful smile so transient it’s become a habit of Yuna to catch that split moment when you give her a smile. Fake as it is, she catches them all.

When she finally finishes wrapping the bandage on your injury and helps you put your sleeves back on, you turn to the young girl who has yet to understand the concept of love. “This is why you cannot love me.” She listens to your words, her eyes never leaving yours as you speak directly to her. “I lost once, then all seven at the same time. Love...doesn’t work for me. If you love me, I will be the one hurting in the end and I don’t think...I don’t think I can handle a false hope anymore.”

She bites her lower lip for a second, eyes trembling. “Do you believe I will one day leave you too?”

“Everyone does,” you say and allow no words of hers to protest against that. “And I suppose that’s why I returned. Because in here, I can predict the outcome. I’m used to the pains and sufferings here. In here, in the Reaper’s house, no one loves me so I don’t have to be disappointed in the end. I can predict the hurting so I can hurt a little less.”

“That…” Her tears return once more as her brows furrowing with frustration. “That’s not...you shouldn’t...it’s not…”

Yuna doesn’t know how to form her words yet you understand at the sight of her strong fingers clenching onto her skin so tightly.

“It’s stupid, isn’t it?” You say with a bitter chuckle. “But I’m fine. I’ll be fine...one day.”

A child like her shouldn’t have to trouble herself with your nonsense. She has her own troubles to worry about.

.

.

.

“How do you expect to survive in this world if you can’t even hold a gun?” The words your father spits out are harsh as he always has been when he watches you from afar, gaze as sharp as that of a hawks’, with two of his men standing tall on each of his sides. “Pick it up,” he demands and you stand there, staring at the handgun you had failed to hold just seconds prior, now dropped on the floor helplessly.

You close your eyes for a moment, taking a deep breath in, because you know that despite how afraid you are of that thing, your father’s disappointment far exceeds any other fear you hold in your heart.

When you crouch to pick the gun up once more, you aren’t sure if your slow breathing is occurring any longer, the only thing on your mind is to try and keep calm as you feel the metal in your hand.

You feel yourself trembling, the beat of your heart racing a thousand beats per minute, and suddenly you can’t see what’s before your eyes any longer. Images of the two dead bodyguards and Mister Butler flashes in your mind like a recurring nightmare that will never go away.

A shot to the head. A bodyguard falls.

Someone holds you down, shielding you from the bullets. A shot to the head and he too, falls limply onto your body.

The weight is heavy against your chest and you aren’t sure how to breathe.

“Mister Butler!”

You hear a gunshot far in your memories, so distant, so faint, but you remember being so alert the second you heard it. At the time the sound was so loud and clear, ringing and ringing in your ears, and the next thing you knew, you were standing right before a pair of eyes that no longer holds light.

He was your sun.

Hands far too unstable to hold onto something, you feel the gun slip out of your grasp and when it hits the floor with a loud thud, your blurry vision falls clear once more as your mind retraces back to reality.

“F..Father…”

Ah, you’re scared.

You’re scared.

You close your eyes tight, not wanting to look at that disappointing gaze of his, not wanting to face his wrath.

Yet you hear it loud and clear when his heavy footsteps marches towards your smaller frame. Your shoulders tense up, hunching close to your ears as your body shakes uncontrollably, yet the thing he lashes his anger out on isn’t you and when you hear a harsh slam of the gun to the floor right before you, you know he’s picked up the gun meant for you and smashed it to pieces.

“Are you that incompotent?! How weak are you to not even be able to hold a simple gun?!”

You flinch at his booming voice and bite hard onto your lips in order to keep your whimpers from escaping. If you make even the slightest noise, he’ll bring you back to the White Room. He’ll punish you.

“Fine,” you hear his strained voice when he turns for a moment. “If you can’t hold a gun, then hold this.”

Your eyes open to face what he has to offer but you weren’t at all prepared to be thrown a dagger right at you.

“Ah!” The sharp blade cuts your palm and drops to the floor and blood quickly begins to drip heavily. You let out a gasp, holding onto your wrist when the pain stings but fear more of the moment your father takes a harsh inhale.

He holds his temple as if suppressing his anger, and when that doesn’t work, the fire in his eyes is enough to make you tremble as he turns from you. “Take her to the White Room.”

Your eyes widen.

“W-wait..I..–Father please!”

Two strong arms take ahold of you when the door opens wide and father leaves the room without a word. “Fa—” Just as you’re about to call out for him, you catch sight of a familiar little girl and her screams.

Two people are dragging her away forcefully and your heart stops.

“Let her go. Hey!!” You rush to run to them but is forcefully held back by your own people and quickly struggle to leave their grasps. “Stop!! Let me go! I order you to let me go!!”

Yet no one listens to a word you scream out.

“Let me go!!”

You scream and shout, trashing your body as much as you can but they’re far much stronger than you will ever be, and in just a split moment, the sight of the little girl who looks up to you so much falls out of sight.

No one listens to you and you’re thrown back into the White Room once again.

Yet this time you’re more desperate to get out, this time you scream until your lungs give out, until your throat sores and can no longer take it, throwing fists after fists, banging onto the metal door so hard, begging and pleading and not caring for the blood and blisters that forms along your hands. Yet no one listens.

No one hears as they fall deaf to everything that is uttered from your very own lips, from the only daughter of the Reaper.

.

.

.

You aren’t sure how many hours you’ve stayed in that room, you aren’t even sure when you passed out but you did and when you open your eyes again, it’s when the doors to the White Room have opened up once again.

A gasp leaves your lips and before the guard can even tell you you’re free to leave, you stand up so fast and dash straight out of the room in just a split second.

Darkness fills your vision, your head spinning and your feet stumble upon one another but you don’t care to treat your own self just yet. You have a mission and that is to find Yuna, to make sure she’s alright.

You hear voices, asking after people, and though they show open disgust towards you, they tell you where Yuna should be and you run after the place.

You aren’t sure how many minutes have passed but even though you’re out of breath, even though your head spins in endless circles, you don’t care one bit unless you see it with your own pair of eyes that Yuna is alive.

She has to be alive.

That little girl with so much passion, so much life in her eyes.

They can’t kill her.

They can’t.

You hear a few voices from a room and immediately hide behind a wall, waiting and watching until the door opens and two familiar men emerge from the door. The same men who took Yuna away.

Anger rises from your chest but you know better than to confront them. You’ll risk Yuna’s life that way and even though there’s a chance she might not even be alive anymore, a part of you still has hope.

When they walk down the opposite hall from where you came from, it takes a few more seconds to watch their backs disappear before you stand before the door leading into a room.

Room 157, it states.

A long corridor of rooms fills this space up, a building different from the main house but still resides in the same property of the Reapers.

You feel so sick you want to throw up. Who knows how many other prisoners they’re keeping in here.

You shake your head to rid of the useless thoughts as you know that right now, confirming Yuna’s life is far more important.

The door creaks open and the first thing you notice is the cold air immediately taking over your body. You shiver and hold yourself. One single light source falls into the room from an open window, illuminating a small, little body, who holds herself up into a sitting position, her head hung over towards the floor as her arms are wrapped against her stomach.

You let out a gasp and quickly run towards Yuna after making sure the door was locked shut.

“Yuna!”

Upon your voice, her head slowly looks up.

“Yuna!” You feel tears stinging your eyes and in just a split second, you’re right by her side and allowing her to lean onto you for support.

“Ah…my lady…” She calls in a frail voice. “Why are you here?” It’s barely audible but you hear her. You hear every single word.

“You’re so cold.” You leave her for a moment to shut the window closed before returning to her side with your jacket taken off in order to wrap her up well. “What did they…do to you..?”

The sight of her is enough to know just what it is that they did to her.

Her face is bruised, cut lips, red markings on her neck and arms, and she holds onto her stomach so much you know they’ve probably gone there as well.

Tears fall from your eyes as you hold onto her. “I’m sorry,” you cry. “I’m so sorry I couldn’t come any sooner.”

“No,” Yuna shakes her head lightly, “If you did…I would have been in a worse state. I would have died.”

“Still.” You can’t forgive yourself. You can’t. “If I…If I came sooner..—”

“What are you talking about, my lady?” She leans away from your hold, brows furrowing as she examines the state you’re in. “They locked you up, my lady. There was nothing you could have done,” she says as she takes both your hands in her hold, letting you gaze down at how they appear before both your eyes.

One palm smears with blood from the dagger, your knuckles and the side of your hands cut and filled with red blisters from all that banging in hopes of knocking that door down.

You were so desperate to save Yuna you forgot about your own pains.

“We’re in the same boat,” Yuna says as tears fill her eyes and begin to roll down her cheeks before she can even hold them back. “I wanted to save you but I couldn’t and you…you wanted the same.” Her little hands tremble as they hold yours, pain and guilt filling her expression as she looks at them. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

“How can you say that? Why would you apologize to me?”

“I don’t know, I…I don’t know anything.” She falls into your chest, crying and crying. “I just…I just want to make it all better.”

But she can’t and she doesn’t know how.

Just like you.

How do you save someone when you can’t even save your own self?

.

.

.

Yuna bandages your hands up so that you can treat her wounds.

The room is quiet, so so quiet, but the silence is comfortable and the silence is soft. You need no words exchanged in order to understand each other, not when you’re the only ones who can rely on each other.

Yuna is but a child trying to survive in this world after your father took her parents away from her forcibly. She yearns for your affections, for your love, and although you know you cannot accept her love nor can you give it to her, you let the little girl stay.

After all, she’s the only one keeping you sane at this moment.

With Yuna, you can breathe, even if it means a little. Because a little goes a long way and a little is just enough for you to open your eyes the next day.

She lays on your lap when you finish bandaging her petite body up, lying there as a child would seeking for their mother’s warmth. Her body curls up closely, head resting on your thigh as you sit there on the floor of your bedroom, lightly running your fingers through her hair.

Eventually her breathing slows, eyes no longer twitching, body no longer trembling, and the grip on your hand loosens. A blanket falls on her body as she falls asleep right there on your lap.

You hum a light tune, watching over her with a gentle gaze even as your heart aches at the sight of her peaceful expression.

Although Yuna is only ten years younger than you, still you feel a connection with her in ways you’ve never felt before. If you ever had a child, would it be like this?

But then again, that would mean having lovers, wouldn’t it? Having a husband who still loved you?

Your brows furrow and a silent tear falls from your cheek.

In the silence of the room, you’re far too afraid to let out a cry so you sit there, watching Yuna carefully as your own tears descend silently.

Two broken souls holding onto each other so the other doesn’t fall.

You only have Yuna now, and she only has you.

.

.

.

“You want me to...remarry?”

You can hear your heartbeat racing hard, hard, and hard. It drums so loudly, so quickly, as your mouth dries and your throat clogs up with an invisible force after hearing those words uttered from your father when he passes you a folder with the man he wishes you to remarry.

Yet you don’t wish to open any of its content and see the face of a stranger.

Not again.

“Father, who would want to marry someone who had just recently divorced?”

“Why does that matter? It’s not as if I’m asking the both of you to love each other.”

“But I—”

“Do you wish to disobey my orders?” He raises his voice, a glare leveled your way to make sure you know not to go up against him and normally you will cower, normally you will sit back down and lower your head and listen to his every word but this...you can’t do this again.

You’ll only hurt in the end and you know that if you were to ever fall into another mafia’s household, you may break. Who knows what sort of man this person is but either way, whether they will be kind or just as your father is, the outcome will remain the same and you know more than anyone that you do not wish to shatter once more.

“Please father, please reconsider.” You run to his side, kneeling down the floor and lowering your head before him. “I know I’m only a pawn but I’m useless, aren’t I? I can’t do anything right and if you send me to another mafia house, this one might not be as forgiving as Mr. Kim was. Mr. Kim was gracious enough to lend you his power even after the fact that we’ve divorced but—”

“Then why did you let him divorce you?!” You flinch under his raised voice but keep yourself still under his foot, knowing you can’t back down despite how afraid you are of him. Your eyes are squeezed shut and you know, although you know that father isn’t one to hit his own daughter, still you await the hand to come down at any time.

“Why are you such a worthless, incompetent child who can’t even keep her own husband? Just how much of a nuisance were you for him to return you yet be kind enough to still lend me his power? You’ve never done anything right and for once I believed things were going well, I thought that for once you were doing your part yet here you are, back on your very knees and at the foot of her own father. You’re useless.”

He stands from his chair and you hear his footsteps stomping away with a storm right behind him. “I’ll be a damn fool to send you elsewhere. Send her to the White Room.”

Your eyes open wide and your head is quick to turn towards the figure of your father walking away. Two men walk towards you, both of them you hadn’t seen before, both of them tall and bulky and fear overrides you.

“Please…” You beg, yet no one listens.

And once again, you’re handled roughly and without a care, dragged back to the very room you’ve dreaded your whole life.

When the door shuts after they’ve thrown you into the White Room, you remain lying on the floor without moving a muscle.

Tears fall from your eyes as your heart aches and your stomach churns and your nostrils thicken and your body trembles. You hold your hands to your mouth, trying to keep the noise from leaving your lips because you know uttering a single sound will only anger your father.

You don’t want to face any more of his wrath. You don’t want him to throw you away again and into another mafia.

You told him it was because the inevitable would come with you returning as a useless child but the truth is, you just don’t want to marry anyone else other than the very same boys who had broken your heart and left you completely shattered.

You don’t want to marry anyone else but Namjoon.

Kim Namjoon who hates you.

You love him, you love him, with all that you are, no matter how worthless and foolish you are and no matter how much you never deserved to love him. Any of them.

Even still, even as you were the one to break the chains around your wrists, even though you were the one to call off the marriage and asked him to never let you meet them again, you love him still. It hurts more than anything to love someone so hard, to still love when the other party has already forgotten.

You fell into the relationship like a fool, knowing the consequences that you’d face yet risking it all despite it. You are the fool that thought you could ever have love and keep it until the day that you die. You are a fool, a dumb, useless fool.

“Worthless, incompetent child.” Your father’s words echo in your head.

“Stop,” you tell yourself. “Stop it.”

Worthless.

“Stop..shut up.” You hit your head.

Incompetent.

“Stop, please..”

Useless.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry.”

“So shameful.” This time these words belong to Namjoon and you choke out a cry yet it fears you so much because you’ve made a sound.

“Please,” you beg at no one at all as you slam your fist down onto the hard floor. “Please.” What are you begging for, you aren’t sure. Why are you begging, you aren’t sure. But you want it to stop, you want everything to stop.

You don’t want to feel anymore, you just want to be numb.

Numb to the pain.

Yet you can feel it all. You can feel every little ache that stabs needles into your heart countless times. You can feel the stinging of your knuckles as you slam it onto the floor. You can feel your pounding headache, your aching heart, your wet tears, the coldness of the room. Everything. Everything.

Keep your heart warm, no matter how cold they have been to you.

Keep your heart warm.

Warm.

Warm.

.

.

.

Ten Years Later

A shot right through the chest and he falls, like a completely wasted plastic bag. A useless, utter fool.

Thump.

You’ve pierced him straight through the heart, just as he deserves, for all the countless times he’s stomped on it without a second thought. He doesn’t hold a heart in the first place, so what use is it to him at all? If anything, you’ve only done him a favor.

When you walk towards the hopeless man with clicking red heels and stand right above him so that he can see the face of the very person who’s sending him straight to hell, his eyes widen a little.

“Huh,” you speak, completely unfazed, “that was a bit...unsatisfying. I thought it’d be more thrilling killing my own father.”

A string tugs at the corner of his lips. “Who knew…” He coughs a few times, face anguished in pain as blood pools around him. “Who knew the very person..I brought into this world...Would be the one to end me.”

You stare at your father without any sign of emotion masking your face. You feel nothing as you watch him lying there helplessly. “You never saw it coming?” You ask and it takes a few painful seconds for him to shake his head.

“I would be mad but...I’m actually quite proud.”

Proud.

What a foreign word to both you and him.

“Are you?”

“You don’t seem happy.”

“Should I be?” You ask flatly. “Perhaps I would have ten years ago, before I finally realized how shitty you were and that I would never live up to your expectations. But now?” You watch the night sky, noting at the darkness of the clouds and the coldness of the air. Rain is coming. “Now I feel nothing.”

“How foolish.”

“How foolish indeed,” you agree. “Though I didn’t do this for my own satisfaction, although that could have been a bonus,” you say. “You were just an obstacle in my goal so I had to get rid of you.”

“That’s right...Because you..you are daddy’s little girl.”

A small scoff leaves you as you return your dead gaze back on the very father who you once yearned so much for. “You’re wrong about that, father. I’m no one’s little girl. I’m my own girl and I belong only to myself.”

Bang!

A shot straight through his head and his eyes are no longer filled with light. They never were in the first place, never had any sort of light, and now they belong completely to the dark. Just as it should have been from the very beginning.

And right on time, the sky rumbles and the rain falls from the sky.

You close your eyes and tilt your head towards it, allowing the rain to simply fall and fall, and for a moment you think it’s rejoicing, as if to fill in the void of your emotionless self who doesn’t understand the concept of joy. The sky rejoices in your stead, screaming in thunder claps, filled with such a storm, the wind howling and crying, yet you stand there, standing still beside the corpse of the Reaper.

You’ve done it.

You’ve killed your father, the very person who has tormented you your whole life. He’s gone now and never to return ever again.

Yet you feel nothing.

No joy, no sadness, you simply feel...nothing.

He was proud of you, he said, and you scoff because of how dumb that was. It doesn’t make you happy, it only fills you with disgust. That man doesn’t deserve to utter such words to you, as if saying so will make a difference and have you begging him for forgiveness.

But you’re done with that. Done with apologies, done with crying.

Done.

And now that the very man who held the highest position to the Reaper’s chair is dead, it’s your turn to take the throne and wear your crown.

You’re the Reaper now.

You hear a small gasp behind you and with the click on your heel, you turn at an instant with your gun leveled right at the very man who made the sound and—

Right before your finger can pull the trigger, you meet the very eyes of a man you once loved long, long ago.

Kim Namjoon and his lovers right behind him.

They stand tall, crisp black suits, with brows furrowed and mouths slightly agape at who they see before them; an ex-wife, an ex lover. Eyes as dark as the eclipsed shadow, it widens slightly as they burn straight into your soul and for a moment, just one split second, you think you may have felt your heart taking a single leap.

But it ends there and once more, you feel absolutely nothing.

Hm.

You stand there with your gun pointed at Bangtan’s boss for a moment, eyes never leaving Namjoon as he takes up your challenge. Silence fills saved by the pouring rain and the noise of the city street.

Ten years has certainly been long since you no longer feel that yearning, aching, and love you had for them long, long ago. You no longer tremble before them, no longer cower, and no longer watch them with the eyes of the pitiful mafia daughter who could do nothing to defend her own dignity and honor.

No longer that shameful, pitiful wife.

You’re the first one to break eye contact.

You tilt your gun back, spin it along your forefinger before placing it at your side.

Well, you hadn’t expected your ex-lovers to be the ones to catch you in the act of killing your own father but it is what it is. They always believed you to be a spoiled little princess and daddy’s little girl but here you are, an image entirely different from what they have always known.

You take a step back onto the edge of the skyscraper and without blinking an eye, let yourself fall and have the wind catch you.

They never disappoint unlike some certain people.

“Y/N!” Hoseok calls.

Hoseok.

It was Hoseok.

Ah, he sounds as concerned and worrisome as you once remember so well. The memories slowly retrieved for just that moment, the same ones you’ve forced yourself to shove back which had been hidden so well under all the darkness that you have succumbed to.

When you let your eyes open, you see their alarmed faces but in just a few seconds, your body is caught in the arms of a certain second-in-command, who holds you securely without falter until the moment the two of you are back on the ground.

A small smirk curls along your lips as you hop onto your motorcycle and ride off, knowing fully well that their eyes are trailing right behind you, just as you once were ten years ago.

But that weak hearted girl then is no longer here. You’re the owner of this body now and you will no longer tolerate anyone getting in your way.

from this tumblr prompt post by @smurfet !

warning/s: angst and crying:(

silence — lmh.

in which he can’t seem to let you love him.

you hadn’t really noticed him, he was always quiet and stuck to his small circle of friends. the boy whose hair never seemed to stay one color, the boy who would only laugh when he was among his friends—the boy whose name was mark lee.

“who?” when your friend had pointed out that he was “so checking you out!”, you didn’t really know how to feel.

your eyes meet his for a brief moment—before he’s looking away a slight blush on his cheeks as his friends erupt into a burst of loud laughter. and it was like the world was on his side, because you started to see more of him.

“i’m so sorry!” his smooth voice distracted you from the sound of your books and papers scattering all over the floor. his movements were frantic as he goes to pick up your fallen items. “it’s okay, really.”

he likes to think it was your smile that had his heart racing, the easygoing and friendly one that always seemed to grace your face. that what he was doing—reaching out, trying to get the chance to talk to you even when he had literally no reason to other than the fact that he liked your voice—was totally reasonable. you could be acquaintances, who talked. almost every day.

“so, how’s it going with y/n?” jaemin would casually bring you up, now that you both were talking on a regular basis. mark felt a weird heat rise from his neck to his ears, stumbling to reply to his younger friend.

“it’s alright. she’s a great girl,” the boys around him let out loud whoops, raising their imaginary glasses in a sort of toast. “i’m happy for you.”

renjun’s smile is gentle as he pats mark’s back. he was scared. truly. he didn’t know why he was feeling the way he did and didn’t believe you could return the way his heart was pounding.

but you did. you loved the way he strummed his guitar with a hidden confidence and the way his eyes would disappear as he laughed. the months you both had spent talking were great and he made you feel the most alive.

there were days where you’d catch his eyes on you and the subtle pink tint on his cheeks as he looks away. you’d find him upset when you were wearing someone else’s jacket. you were sure, so sure that he liked you back. that he would catch you because you were falling. falling for the boy who built a cage around his heart so—

“don’t.” you were confused. don’t?

“don’t love me, y/n.” his sad whisper nails you to your spot in front of him. you had your bag over your shoulder and his jacket around your body.

his eyes stared at you, sad and empty as he pleads with you. “i’m not worth it. not worth your love—“

“is that really your decision to make?” your voice comes out softer than you had liked. you didn’t want to cry but you felt your throat closing as the tears stung the back of your eyes. mark watches closely as you gulp down your feelings, face scrunching as you struggle to hold in the emotions wishing to break free.

his heart was breaking, but this was better. wasn’t it?

“i’m—i don’t love you.”

he had forced the words out. he knew he had to. he didn’t want to let himself feel the way he felt around you—because he could see it all leading down the same path.

“oh.”

your dejected face stayed etched in his mind as you walked away. as the tears won over your stubbornness, falling freely down your cheeks even when you were tugging off his jacket. he watched in silence as you disappeared, from him that night—from his life forever.

this was better. he knew it was. but why did it feel like it wasn’t?

—

my mark drabble debut! it’s sad, but i’m trying to get over my writer’s block huhu ;-;

warning/s: overworking, mentions of bad habits like skipping meals and losing sleep.

[6:51 pm]

“you’re overworking yourself.” renjun simply huffs as he tugs on the sleeve of your shirt. he wasn’t wrong, but you had so many tasks due and you couldn’t help but glue yourself to your chair.

“just a few more minutes, ren. i promise i’ll come to bed, yeah?” your promises fell on death ears as he raises his eyebrow—clicking his tongue as he starts to tug even harder.

he didn’t like seeing you push yourself so much when he knew that it meant skipping meals, losing sleep and draining yourself of energy.

“woah—babe.” your boyfriend sighs as he catches you in his arms, your exhausted body nearly toppling over when you went to get up.

“it’s okay, i’ve got you.”