Maybe Shes Born With It

Maybe she’s born with it…

inspired by reading a bts fic that got lost in the refresh r.i.p.😞 . the way my mind wouldn’t let this go tells me I need to start taking my meds again. its cringe as hell, but we move regardless

undercap intended | not proofread

“you’re good.” confused brown eyes widened more than you thought they could as she waited for you to continue. stiffly, you rose to your feet, stepping out the radius of the chair given to negate further stress and injury on your bruised body. behind you a hand shot up to hover around your aura, waiting for your to grasp it for the stability your weakened knees lacked.

“what are you talking about? just come home! please. i need my big sister.”

“no, he’s good,” you corrected your earlier statement. the foyer enhanced the heavy silence as you walked, cast thudding against the clean marble with every step. “you’re too stupid to think of something like this. it's smart.”

“he knows how much i love you. knows that if he sent you over here, crying and shaking, mascara running down your cheeks,” your hand rose to caress the smooth skin of her cheek, flicking the blackened tears on the floor before smashing your sister’s top lip up to expose more mess. “and lipstick all over your teeth, begging me to come home, i would. i love you too much. i’d do anything for you.”

for a moment all is well in her world. you love her, you’ll come home. simple. “then you’ll come with me-“

“i can’t. i can’t go back to that house. he’ll kill me. but you know that. you don't care. you don’t love me like how i love you. willing to risk my life to please him. i can't go home with you, look at yourself. filthy.”

turning back around to the crowd of tense individuals surrounding the chair you abandoned, waiting for you to return. oddly the positioning reminds you of a sunflower. your favorite flower.

a hand clasped on your already injured wrist, chaining you to your old life. the person holding you back was someone you would do anything for, but that damn mascara came back to mind. so your feet charged on, cast thudding with every step.

“please, i do love you. i love you so much. you raised me. you were there for me. i can't live without you, kitkat.”

“don’t call me that. you don't get to call me that. you stupid girl. you evil girl. i almost caved. but you must think i’m the biggest idiot this side of mars if you thought daddy buying you cheap ass maybelline mascara would get me to come home. you don't own cheap mascara, i know. you do a makeup haul in my room every time you go shopping. you don't own mascara that isn’t waterproof. you don't own lipstick that smudges. and you don't have the basic human decency to look and acknowledge what he did to me! i barely made it out alive and you want to drag me back. what did he promise you? a telfar? a birkin? tickets to the next coachella for you and all your friends?”

the room watches as your fragile limbs flailed about, defending your already sore body from anyone else touching you without permission. by your chair, you can briefly take in the weak smiles aimed at you. they’re happy for you, finally letting emotion override the default numbness you’d set yourself into since being recovered from the house.

regardless of your unpredictable motions, she still tries to hold on, to anchor your storm to her port. everything will be fine when she gets you home, she just has to bear this tantrum, bear your tears until you’re back in your bed in their home. everything will be-

shock. that's the only thing on her face as she watched you breakdown while she stayed kneeling on the floor in the position you put her in. the impact of the hit hasn’t registered to her yet, her mind still reeling with the fact that you told her no.

you told her no. you refused to come home.

and the fear filling her body is all she can feel.

finally, you calm down. muscles ache and joints creak as the adrenaline saps out your body. you don't spare a glance at your sister, nervous that a single look at the hurt undoubtedly painted across her face would be all it would take to tether your soul to her happiness again. instead, you sigh and limp back to the group.

as much as you want to collapse into their strength, you merely grasp a shoulder and will the energy thrumming under black clothing and tensed muscles to transfer to you.

“i’m going to take a nap. please wake me for dinner.”

“of course. sleep well.”

i stay lying unprovoked but this time i mean it, i finishing my wips this weekend

Mini-twists: teaser

teaser for the ukai piece i’ve been chipping away at.

FULL PIECE NOW OUT

“Makes sense if they’re this good. All of ‘em have been playing for years, allegedly.” Star commented, drawing attention to herself. “What?”

Keishin glanced down to his hand, the limb unconsciously wrapped around and stroking along her ankle, playing with the small charm that dangled from her anklet. Red spread across the bridge of his nose.

“I, uh, kinda forgot you were here.” Star stared at her boyfriend until nerves bubbles out of him like fizz does soda. The stick in his mouth hung precariously, one wrong move and it fall from his petite lips onto his trusty track pants.

“Wow, Kei. Way to make a girl feel special.”

i lied its writer block. instead get ready for awkward short drabble fics

deep in my angst bag rn, who want these self projection fics

yoongi and his long hair in the live with the title that jimin made “my hair grown a lot longer” ♡ (trans. cr. tteokminnie & BTStranslation_)

now why my brain get hit with new inspo for the niggas i just wrote about. its cute tho so i guess.