#i keep trying to focus on the fact that at least i have the scenery and the peace that i wanted but mannnnn. what the hell

[bobbasmultiverse]

strawberries & cigarettes

6. shocking

warnings: friendly bullying

you sat on the bench, swinging your legs back and forth as your eyes traveled across the landscape before you. you were waiting for minghao at the bottom of the mountain where he'd texted you to wait. your backpack had your camera gear in it as you hugged it closer to your chest, many people passing by you as the seconds passed slowly, paris in the rain playing loudly through your airpods, drowning the world out.

black nail-polished fingers snapping in front of your face had snapped you out of your trance as you stared up at the chinese man. you took your airpods out, placing them in their respectful spots before tucking them in your backpack. "let's go." the man urged you as you put your backpack on, following after him.

"here." he extended a paper cup towards you as you slowly grabbed it, fingers brushing against one another while you sniffed the drink. "that's why i was a bit late." he murmured, loud enough for you to hear as he slowed his pace down a bit to match yours.

you were awestruck by how he’d guessed your favourite drink, looking between the cup in your hands and the man, before your eyes settled on your footing instead, a shy smile making its way to your face. "thank you." you mumbled, seeing him nod in your peripheral.

in fact, minghao hadn't guessed your favourite drink, he simply took notice of the one you were holding at the cafe only a few days ago, and it hadn't slipped his mind since then, as well as your dimples. he also told seokmin to make up some plans so he could hitch this trip with you and try and get to know you.

he couldn't deny that you were pretty, really, really pretty and that he'd be a fool if he didn't at least hint at something. especially after that night.

“uh, also…” you trailed off, pursing your lips shyly before you continued. “thank you for the lighter…and for taking me home.”

minghao couldn't hide his shock. he thought that you were shit-faced drunk that night and you wouldn't remember a thing in the morning, but there you were, thanking him about it.

he nodded in acknowledgement, suddenly getting shy at that as he shoved his hands in his pockets and looked the other direction of you.

“i didn't think you'd remember.” he commented and you chuckled awkwardly.

you cleared your throat, glancing up at him for a brief second before you looked at your steps again. “i actually still don't remember that night. i just saw the lighter the next morning and seungkwan wouldn't stop teasing me about it every time he came over, so…”

he nodded in acknowledgement, doing his best to his disappointment and focus on the flight of stairs ahead instead.

only a few moments later, you called out to the man again, making him halt in his movements this time as he turned to you. "why, uh, did you pick this place?" there was a slight pant between your words as you urged yourself up the mountain, and it had minghao rethinking his choices and debating whether he should look for somewhere else. but it was already too late.

"don't you and mingyu do this?" he questioned. mingyu did certainly tell him you preferred to photograph natural sceneries than people photography, that's why you and mingyu would spend the whole day together for it, moving almost all across the city.

"we've never been hiking before, really. we usually go to a park, have lunch, then move around in his car." you'd explained, keeping your eyes ahead to watch the stairs and not trip on one.

minghao's lips puckered in thought before he turned to you. "we're basically doing the same thing, except this is healthier and would be more enjoyable." his head turned to the front again, missing the way you rolled your eyes. stairs were your worst enemy, so you were certainly unhappy with this, however, you still missed the slight pants between his words. damn mingyu, he was the one who recommended hiking to him.

it was a quiet hike between the two of you, reaching atop once the orange hues came into view and the sunset had just started. you'd found a log, quickly rushing to it and sitting down with an exasperated sigh at the work-out you'd just done. you'd unfortunately have to skip leg day with mingyu and joshua this week, which would obviously be so, so upsetting to you.

you put your backpack next to you, crossing your arms and still managing your breathing while minghao took a seat next to you, getting out a sketch instead of the camera you'd expected. "what's this?"

"a sketch."

"no shit, sherlock. i meant where's your camera? isn't this for the newspaper?" you frowned, staring at the sketch before finally meeting minghao's eyes, and he didn't look happy with you.

he sighed, shaking his head before getting his pencil case out. "it's for a project i have. seokmin and mingyu are the photographers, i'm the artist.”

"oh? i didn't know that." you murmured, nodding as you prepared your things.

“you seem to not know a lot.”

your curious gaze dropped as you felt your stomach drop as well, nodding to yourself with a quiet chuckle before you picked your backpack up with your camera in hand and walked away from the man silently, leaving him to his thoughts and drawings while you started doing your and mingyu's jobs combined, photographing people while capturing the beautiful greenery sights and the sunset as you went.

you'd almost forgotten about minghao by the time you were done, sitting down on the grass, your camera in your lap before you'd gotten a text from joshua, asking when you'd be home. you'd replied that you'd be there soon, and he ended the chat with a take care.

"hey."

looking up, you found minghao looming over you, a cup in a hand, and your things in the other with a paper bag. you only hummed in acknowledgement as you resumed surfing through the pictures you took that day. "i got you apple juice."

that had you giving him his full attention as you placed your camera in your lap while he dropped down next to you with a low grunt. "how'd you know i like apple juice?"

"lucky guess." he hummed, handing you the paper bag while he settled your things between the two of you, resting back on his hand while his legs were folded in front of him. you'd already opened the pack and had almost finished it while he got comfortable. "sorry if i was a bit mean earlier."

you, again, hummed in acknowledgement as minghao pursed his lips, unknowing of how he should react now. "is that a sign of forgiveness or is this you dismissing me?"

and then you shrugged. and minghao almost groaned aloud at that. "well, i'm sorry, again, for being mean and if-hey, where you going?"

you looked down at the man as you hoisted your bag over your shoulder. "my brother wants me home." you'd replied curtly, turning around to start your way down the mountain before you paused, turning to face the man with a tight smile that had your dimples awkwardly popping. "thank you for the juice...and the drink...and the hike. bye."

and you'd left the man like that. and minghao, in all his years he'd spent in this foreign country, had never been left this stunned and speechless, watching your retreating back as you placed your earbuds in your ears and drowned out the world.

previous | masterlist | next

pairing: kwon soonyoung x wonwoo's sister!oc, xu minghao x wonwoo's sister!oc (ft. SVT)

genre: college au, love triangle, brother's bestfriend, fwb, angst, fluff

synopsis: two minor, what you'd call, incidents, lead up to the craziest few months of your life, where you make friendships and break some and you end with having to make the craziest choices of your life; to be young and free forever, or to have the best love of all time.

bobba talks | exams start in 13 days. and the svt concert is not in my country's theatres. super duper uncool.

#kwon soonyoung x reader #hoshi x reader #xu minghao x reader #the8 x reader #seventeen x reader #hoshi imagines #the8 imagines #seventeen imagines #hoshi fluff #the8 fluff #seventeen fluff #hoshi angst #the8 angst #seventeen angst #the8 smau #hoshi smau #seventeen smau #seventeen scenarios #svt smau #svt x reader #svt imagines

[heliads]

hii how about an image about fake dating with harry potter? and he’s really cocky and playful in this so reader doesn’t know when he’s feelings are serious or not so she tries to pull away from him but he catches her one day and makes her talk to him and he explains that everything he’s done ans felt is real. thank you love xx

im going to be honest i have never known harry james potter to be cocky nor playful so in the name of characterization that man is going to be sarcastic instead ALSO I FUCKED UP THAT SAYS FAKE DATING AND THIS ISNT FAKE DATING so this is a completely different fic than you requested, enjoy!

masterlist

It is oddly peaceful in the Gryffindor common room. It isn’t completely silent, of course, that would take several minor miracles and perhaps even a natural disaster, but it’s the closest to quiet you’ve seen in a very long time. You’re huddled around a smooth wooden table with one of your closest friends, Hermione Granger, while the two of you work on your homework.

You glance around you, but see only studious faces and a conspicuous absence of Quidditch players. They must be out at practice, meaning that a bunch of their louder friends have followed them out. That explains the quiet, at least.

“This is nice,” you comment, “very peaceful. I might have to come here more often.”

Hermione snorts. “Yeah, right. This is unusually quiet, and even besides that it’s hard enough to sneak you past the Fat Lady. I think she’s going to catch on to us one of these days.”

You acknowledge Hermione’s concern with a grim smile. The reason you and Hermione have to dress you up in borrowed Gryffindor robes and keep your head down every time you cross through the portrait hole to access the Gryffindor common room is because you’re technically not in Gryffindor.

No, you’re a Slytherin through and through. The fact that you’re such close friends with Hermione, as well as Harry Potter and Ron Weasley by default, stunned a bunch of people in the beginning, but the two of you are more similar than anyone thinks. For one thing, both you and Hermione like being top of your class, which is why you’ve been pooling your collective genius and studying together.

“Still,” you grin, “a change of scenery never hurt anyone.”

Hermione nods, attention still half on the parchment in front of her. Even this brief bit of focus doesn’t last long, however, as loud conversation starts to filter in through the halls outside the common room.

She looks up with a grimace. “Well, it looks like our quiet study time is over now. That must be the Quidditch team, already on their way back. Prepare yourself for a great deal of noise.”

Hermione’s guess is good, as she’s barely finished her sentence before a throng of Gryffindors start to pour through the portrait hole. Most of them head upstairs to their dorms to get changed, but two settle into empty chairs at your table.

For some reason, although you’re quite keen on Hermione, you never got along as well with Harry or Ron. They were just different from you, you suppose, and although you certainly tried to extend olive branch after olive branch, they remain not-quite-friends and nothing more.

In fact, the boys are so excited over what must have been a tremendously successful Quidditch practice that they hardly notice you’re there at all. Ron is going on about how he’s really enjoying his new duties as Keeper, as he makes sure to tell Hermione again and again.

“–and it’s going really well,” he repeats, “our Chasers are really upping their game. We might have a shot at the Quidditch Cup if we keep this up, but– Y/N, what are you doing here?”

Having noticed you at last, Ron frowns, as if he can’t entirely remember if you’re Gryffindor or not. You certainly show up here enough to make anyone question your house status.

You chuckle. “Hermione let me in, thanks for asking. We’re trying to study.”

Ron’s face drops. “Why would you do that?”

“Y/N and I are studying, Ronald, because unlike you we like to not skive off homework time for Quidditch. Have you even done the Potions essay? You know, the one that’s due tomorrow?” Hermione inquires.

Ron and Harry look at each other with twin expressions of dread. Hermione almost smiles. “I’ll take that to be a no,” she continues, “I’d get on that if I were you.”

Harry pulls a face. “Well, I’m glad that we have such a strong and supportive community around to help us. I know you and Y/N would love to lend us a hand on our essays, wouldn’t you?”

You arch a brow. “You want me to help you with your essay? I thought you only ever asked Hermione.”

Harry spreads his hands. “Maybe we’re trying to extend our study network. Also, if Hermione ever gets sick, we’re screwed. Besides, the way I see it, you owe me.”

“What would I possibly owe you?” You ask incredulously.

Harry grins. “We’re supposed to be friends, but you didn’t cheer us on during the last Quidditch game.”

You stare at him disbelievingly. “Yeah, because you were playing Slytherin. What was I supposed to do, boo my own house?”

He nods solemnly. “That sounds like a great option. I’m sure you can do it at the next game.”

You open your mouth to argue this, but Harry stands up and says something about going up to change back into his robes. Ron goes with him, leaving you and Hermione alone once more.

She looks altogether too pleased about the entire encounter. “I think you and Harry are getting along quite well.”

Your jaw drops. “You must be out of your mind. The guy practically hates me.”

Hermione doesn’t seem to believe that in the slightest. “Not a chance. He talks to you every chance he gets.”

You stab your quill rather viciously into your inkpot, and have to quickly steady it lest you stain the table with excess drops of black. “Only to tease me, it’s not the same. Trust me, he doesn’t like me half as much as you think.”

Hermione goes back to her essay with a shrug, but you can tell from the way her eyes continue to dance with hidden mirth that she hasn’t given up on the topic. “Whatever you say, Y/N. I wouldn’t be surprised if you change your mind, though.”

You make a show of harrumphing about how she's totally wrong, but in truth, you find yourself secretly hoping that Hermione is as right as usual. If you were going to be completely honest with yourself, you’d confess that you don’t entirely want to believe what you said. You would like it if Harry genuinely saw you as a friend, and you wouldn’t mind it if he felt something more, too.

Ironically, you, a Slytherin, have a crush on the patron poster student of the Gryffindors, Harry Potter himself. You didn’t intend to fall for him, but there’s nothing you can do about it now. After enough days spent hanging out with Hermione, you started to notice that Harry is way more than the rumors that either Hogwarts house spreads about him.

He’s brave, for one thing, but kind as well, fiercely protective of his friends. He’d take a hex to the face rather than abandon any of them. Harry trusts those he likes, and being anywhere remotely near his inner circle makes you feel special. 

He’s had the chance to befriend anyone he likes thanks to his status as the Boy Who Lived, but instead of being haughty about it, Harry just tries to avoid the fame as much as humanly possible. Anyone else would have never shut up about defeating He Who Must Not Be Named as a baby, but Harry does his best to seem like just another guy.

You love Slytherin, really you do, but there is something to be said for humility. In a house full of kids who are so desperate to follow their dreams that they strut about the castle as if they’ve already earned them, Harry’s matter-of-fact personality is like a breath of fresh air.

The only problem, of course, is what you told Hermione. You’re never entirely sure that Harry likes you in the slightest. Sure, his sense of humor tends to be more deadpan sarcastic comments, but you’re legitimately unsure of how he feels about you. If Harry talks to you every single day, you walk away from five of those seven encounters thinking he might hate you.

The other two, however, are enough to keep you crushing on him for years to come. You like the person you are around Harry, plain and simple. You only wish that he would give you any indication that he felt the same way.

It starts to rub at you after a while. It’s frustrating that day after day, Harry would refuse to give you a single indication of how he felt. You wouldn’t even mind it if he went out and said that he hated you, at least that would be a sign of something. Instead, Harry remains a mystery, and the only thing you have with him are jokes and false pretenses.

It drives you mad. Although you wouldn’t trade your study sessions with Hermione for anything, you start to leave whenever Harry and Ron show up so you don’t have to sit through yet another session of constantly having to decipher Harry’s truth from fiction. If he won’t tell you how he feels, fine. You don’t have to keep giving him chances to say what he won’t.

You didn’t realize that anyone other than maybe Hermione would notice your absences until Harry of all people tracked you down about three weeks after that post-practice meeting in the Gryffindor common room. You were wandering the halls on the way back to the Slytherin quarters after Charms class when Harry came up to you.

You were fully expecting him to wave a brisk hello and keep moving, yet instead he crosses the hall so he’s walking right beside you.

“We need to talk,” he says, and you shoot him a questioning glance.

“About what?”

Harry looks at you as if the answer should be obvious. “About why you’re avoiding me, obviously. You hang out with Hermione all the time, but the second you so much as hear my name, you’re gone. What did I do to bother you so much?”

You laugh bitterly. “I’m surprised you even noticed.”

Harry blinks in surprise. “What does that mean?”

You shake your head, trying to get yourself to focus. “Nothing. It means nothing. If it bothers you, I’ll start hanging around again.”

You start to pick up your pace, hoping to leave him behind, but Harry just catches up with you again. This time, he laces his arm around yours so you can’t leave him again.

“Really,” he says, “What’s going on? Just talk to me, honestly.”

You scoff at that. “Oh, because that’s what we always do, talk honestly. I have no idea why you think I owe you an explanation when you haven’t given me one since the day we met.”

Harry looks bewildered, and you sigh and keep going. “I have no idea if you hate me or not. That’s the truth, Harry. Every time we’re in the same room together, you’re never serious enough for me to tell how you feel. I have no idea if you’re being sincere or just sarcastic, but I’m sick of trying to guess what you’re trying to say. Either tell me directly or don’t, but I’m tired of reading between every single one of your lines.”

Harry stops walking, and seeing as his arm is still around yours, you stop too. He looks stunned, and when he starts speaking again, his voice is deathly quiet.

“I didn’t realize you felt like that,” he says, “but it’s not your fault, trust me. I’m just afraid to talk to you. I guess that’s the problem, I’m afraid to be certain of anything because I don’t want you to despise me. Can’t reject me if I never say a thing, right?”

He laughs weakly, and you stare at him. “So you–”

Harry cuts you off, somewhat impatient. “Like you? Yeah, I do. Ron’s been teasing me about it for ages. I never wanted you to think I hated you, though. I’m sorry about that.”

A slow smile spreads across your face. “I’m not sorry about anything. You don’t have to worry about me hating you, Harry. I never have. Far from it.”

Harry meets your gaze slowly. “You like me?”

You laugh. “Quite a bit, actually.”

At last, Harry smiles too. “I guess Ron was right.”

“Hermione was too,” you reply, “I’m starting to think that everybody knew except us.”

Harry chuckles. “Well, we know now, so that has to count for something.” He’s silent for a moment, then glances back up at you. “I’m glad you feel the same way I do, it makes things way easier.”

He’s not wrong. At last, you don’t have to worry anymore, because Harry feels the exact same way as you do. Nothing could be better.

harry potter tag list: @rogueanschel, @cameronsails, @neewtmas, @lovesanimals0000, @with-inked-solace, @sher-lokid7, @amortensie, @frenchgirlinlondon

#harry potter #harry potter imagines #harry potter x reader #harry potter oneshot #harry james potter #harry james potter imagines #harry james potter x reader #harry james potter oneshot

[heartlandians]

Filling Empty Spaces (Amy/Mitch), part 220

Mitch and Amy find an unexpected connection due to absent lovers. Set around season 11->.

A/N: I didn’t have a beta for this story, so hopefully there won’t be too many grammar errors.

****

After Amy's effusion of frustration, Mitch and her were still sat on the blanket, watching the scenery and letting the summer breeze brush over them as they leaned on each other.

It was understood without saying anything that they both needed this moment of silence to process things.

But their quiet time didn't last long as Amy's phone beeped. She sighed, not wanting to be disturbed, but figured if it was Jade, she would like to know what was going on with Lyndy.

Mitch glanced at her, but then gave her privacy to check on her text without him intruding.

When Amy let out a longer sigh and her figure next to him crumpled a little, he had to ask. "What is it...?"

"I totally forgot the ranch hand I was going to interview was gonna come over today", Amy mumbled, biting her teeth out of frustration. "He's asking directions. -- I- I can't be dealing with this right now..."

She touched the bridge of her nose quickly, trying to focus.

"Why don't you ask someone else to interview him instead?" Mitch suggested. "Someone's home, aren't they? Jack, Lisa?" he reminded, since it was the reason he had not been able to come over.

"Well, yeah, I could", Amy admitted, "but I really wanted to do it myself. He's going to work for me, after all. I want to get a feel of him, so I know if we'll work well together."

Mitch bobbed his head a little, understanding. His arm around Amy soothed her gently. "Makes sense."

"I'll just ask him to come tomorrow", she then decided, already typing her reply.

The kid from Tim's rodeo school was the one wanting the job after all, so she was in the position of power to change the schedule, Amy reminded herself.

Mitch nodded, looking around and spotting flowers on his right. He bended the stem of a one of the Geraniums, then handing it to Amy when she was done with her text message.

Amy glanced at it and let out a half-chuckle as she accepted it. "Thanks..."

The small surprise of Mitch's sweetness helped her release tenseness over the ranch hand interview situation as she leaned back against him.

"Is there anything I could do...?" Mitch asked then, caressing the side of her arm that was facing outward from him.

"I guess not", Amy figured, shaking her head. "This is enough as it is, though. -- I just wish life was always this simple."

Mitch smiled a little. "Well, it can be, at least when we are together. I mean, we aren't in a hurry to do or be anything, right?"

"Well, no", Amy admitted. "Especially now that Lou knows... I mean, I still have to tell everyone else, but I feel like... I almost don't care what others think at this point."

She was surprised by her own reaction, but maybe it was some form of battle fatigue over this string of issues she had had to deal with for so long now.

Amy hummed.

"It's kind of... liberating, not caring so much. To think all this time I could have just felt like this..." she continued, speaking as if feelings were this simple to control - they really weren't, not in her case, anyway.

"You don't think it's... terrifying? Like that sad feeling you talked about earlier", Mitch checked, hoping not to trigger anything.

Amy thought about that, wondering why it did in fact feel different somehow. Why she wasn't as scared to be a little numb but she was scared to feel sad.

"I don't know how to explain it", she finally said after a while. "But there's no pull in numbness, not the same way there is in sadness. It just... is. Sadness feels bottomless, like you never arrive anywhere, you just keep going down and down... -- But numbness, it's like you're waiting for something else to arrive. It's like a pause."

Mitch listened, nodding softly. "Just don't stay paused for too long."

Amy moved her head back, so she could look at Mitch. The man's head turned left too, catching her gaze. "I won't. Not with you around."

When Mitch smiled, Amy smiled back.

"See? I'm already smiling..." she pointed out.

"If I could pause a moment, I think this would be a perfectly good moment to stay in", Mitch said, letting his eyes roam on the features of her face.

It made Amy's heart jolt as she let out a soft sigh.

"Yeah, I would have to agree on that..." she murmured.

****

When the cowboy rode with her toward Heartland a little later, Amy felt like they had been so focused on her that she had not even realized she had not asked what was going on with Mitch, so she decided to do that now before they would have to part ways again.

Amy followed Mitch's expression after her question while their horses kept the synchronized pace underneath them. He seemed like he was weighing his words carefully, thinking how to sum it all up.

"Well, when Lou called, I was actually in the middle of tracing Leah's whereabouts", Mitch shared, feeling a bit nervous.

It wasn't a secret to Amy that he was trying to get a hold of his ex-girlfriend - in fact she had encouraged Mitch - but instead his nervousness seemed to come from the uneasy feeling of not knowing what would follow, how it would affect him and what it would therefore mean for him and Amy.

"Oh yeah?" Amy asked, steering Spartan, even though the horse hardly needed any help as he would have probably been able to find home in his sleep on these familiar trails. "So, did you find her?"

Mitch shook his head.

"Or, well... I did, but... I didn't get far. I was going through the options when my phone rang. That's probably partly why I was caught off guard with the call; my mind was elsewhere."

Amy could understand that. From what she had heard, the phone call itself had been rather dramatic, not to mention Mitch had the added emotional dilemma going on at the same time.

"So, what are the options?" she wanted to hear his thoughts.

Mitch let his eyes wander toward the treeline far away as he came up with the answer. A sigh pushed out of his mouth as he thought about the fragility of this whole thing; he wanted to be delicate with it.

"She could be happy, moved on, fine without anything there to remind her about what happened", Mitch listed. "Me reaching out could then bring it all crashing down."

"It's possible", Amy agreed, thinking back to her own situation, reflecting what she would want. Obviously her situation wasn't the same, but it gave her a perspective she could offer in order to give Mitch another possible approach. "But, what else?"

"Or... she could be dealing with all of that and more, not doing so well", Mitch suggested. "Maybe she's still taking that dive into that darkness you just talked about."

"Maybe", Amy said, nodding. "But the thing is, you won't know until you know. And sure, it could all trigger her - and I don't think you're going to take that lightly - but what's the third option?" she asked.

Mitch turned his head to look at Amy, wondering what was the third option? He wasn't sure what she meant - and he felt a little dumb about it.

Amy could read this from his face, so she figured she'd offer her take.

"Let's say it is still on her mind, affecting her in some ways. You'd hope she'd unravel it at some point, right?" Amy asked. "So she could move on and live her life as freely as she can. Have that... release."

There was no doubt about that in Mitch's mind, so he nodded. "Of course."

"I said that for me sadness feels bottomless", Amy recounted, "and if it's anything like that for her, she might want to actually meet the bottom of that pit. Because when you reach that, you can at least get back on your feet so you can try and climb up. But you can't do that before you get there."

Mitch thought about that, seeing how that made sense in theory.

"And yeah, it's going to hurt", Amy admitted, sighing, "but it's going to hurt no matter what. There's no moving on or moving forward without it hurting to some degree, because change hurts."

"Yeah... Don't we know that..." Mitch said, knowing they both had experience about that.

"No one wants to feel sad or hurt or even numb, but that's just part of life at some point. Hopefully people are lucky enough to have people there to support them during those times", Amy summed up the whole conversation they had been having this last hour.

"Yeah, but that's the thing - I wasn't able to support her then", Mitch reminded.

"I get that. But trauma is... tricky", Amy described. "The healing can't always begin right away, sometimes you need time and space to reach the bottom before you can even think about getting up. Maybe she's closer to the bottom than to the top after all these years."

Amy looked at Mitch, seeing the guilt written all over his face. It looked like it kept bringing up that lump back in his throat he tried so hard to fight.

"Mitch... You're here now", Amy wanted to stress. "If she wants, that is. And... I know from experience that you are a good person for that; you're reliable, you're caring and you listen. That's more than many victims get from the people closest to them", she added, feeling like her own experiences in that field had been mixed.

Some people just weren't equipped with those qualities or didn't even want to learn to become better at them. But Mitch was willing to grow, so Amy could imagine that being a good thing when it came to him contacting Leah.

The woman only had to give him a chance and see how Mitch could help her get some type of closure for some part of that traumatic experience.

If that was what was going on, that is.

"I guess I see a fourth option too", Mitch confessed. "And it worries me."

"What's that?" Amy asked.

"What if I get in, just enough to hurt her again, and then she won't accept my help anymore", Mitch explained. "Am I just going to leave her be?"

"Not necessarily", Amy thought, then thinking about something, as she viewed the scenery in front of her from between Spartan's two perked ears. "I mean, I know it's not the same, but... I also feel like as its purest, it does teach me a lot about trauma. Helping horses, I mean", she began.

Mitch looked at her, listening.

"Take me and Spartan, for example", Amy explained. "When the accident that killed my mom happened, Spartan was part of that experience too. And he healed from the bruises somewhat easily, thankfully - as did I - but the emotional wounds... they were harder to deal with. I know I was just a kid back then, and now that I've grown up, I view some things differently, but..."

She thought back to that moment in the ring with Spartan, where she would run him around, hoping to connect with him and make him ready for their first join-up.

"I had this feeling that he was blaming me for it and it really weighed heavy on me. I was supposed to help him, protect him, but... things didn't go like we planned with mom", Amy spoke.

The scared look in Spartan's eyes, every time she had approached him, flashed inside Amy's mind. She could still recall it easily as she had been familiar with that exact feeling too.

"And so, after the accident, when I tried to help him, he refused my help, but I didn't give up. Helping him was not easy, but the other option was also not an option for me. I didn't want to give up on him", Amy said, feeling so happy about that decision she had made years ago.

Mitch looked at Amy and the horse under her, having hard time imagining them being anything but this unit that they were now.

"Thinking back, I don't know how much of that whole process was for him and how much of that was for me, but... maybe we needed to go through that together in order to heal from that experience", Amy continued. "It still lives in us and it will never go away, but life has been built around that too. -- What's that saying? "Sometimes the only ones that can help you are the ones that let you down hardest". Something like that..."

Mitch nodded, quietly, looking like he maybe agreed.

"That is not to say what happened was your fault, but I know you blame yourself. I know how that's like; nothing I say will take that away if you feel it deeply. What I've realized over the years is that what happened with mom or Spartan wasn't my fault either. Sometimes bad things happen, not everything is under our control or a consequence of something we didn't do correctly", Amy shared her perspective, hoping Mitch would remember that down the line.

It was true that she had asked her mom to go and get Spartan from Mr. Mallen's farm, in a way setting everything into motion, but at the same time part of those decisions leading up to the rescue mission had been made by Marion as well. Her mother had tried to assess the risks and unfortunately failed as she had lost her life that night.

Life was always a gamble. Sometimes it was worth the risk, sometimes it wasn't. You never really knew until you found out.

"But... I wasn't able to have that perspective before I faced the situation head on and lived through it and - more importantly - beyond. And I think maybe the same thing can happen to you too. And, hopefully, for Leah as well", Amy hoped.

Mitch looked at Amy and nodded. He steered Maverick closer and reached out his hand, making her realize Mitch wanted her to hold it.

She accepted his hand and they rode side by side, slowly, cherishing their connection.

"Maybe your situation is not the same", Mitch admitted, "but you've given me a lot to think about. So... thank you for that."

"Of course", Amy said, smiling. "Any time."

#heartland #fanfiction #filling empty spaces

[shieldmonokuma]

Day 1.

I remember the sensation of falling as I slid the nerve gear over my head, as though my restless mind was trying but unable to fully escape. I could feel sparks run down my arms as I waited in anticipation for the black screen to turn to the game menu, and then finally, a new world. 

Finally I can have a piece of the life I’ve always wanted. To think that I might not have bought the prerelease if it wasn’t for her. In fact, I almost stopped myself from joining right there, due to the bitter feeling in the back of my throat, the lightheadedness that I felt as I looked at the package. Still, I took a deep breath and started.

It’s just my nerves. I’ve never had this chance before, and I can’t afford to hesitate now.

I looked at the menu as it booted up. It scanned me and told me to enter my personal information, everything that it couldn’t gather by itself anyway. It displayed my in-game avatar-an image that I couldn’t even distinguish from myself-and allowed me to edit it from there. I tentatively entered the settings, then finally joined the game.

As the screen loaded in, I saw her waiting for me at the spawn point.

“Ah, hi Izuru!” ChiakiX3, as I had known her online at least, called out.

“I’m glad to see you again too,” I laughed a little. Was it due to my amazement, or just the awkwardness of meeting an online mutual in well, almost real life? It really was surreal. She was a girl who looked to be about my age. It wouldn’t have surprised me to see her walking through the halls of my highschool. It was almost eerie, how closely she seemed to match up with her online persona. She had a calm face, framed by taupe bangs and roughly shoulder-length hair. She wore the same uniform that all players were given, but had chosen to make her tunic a shade of dusty pink that matched her eyes.

To be honest, I felt like a poser recalling the effortlessly cool persona that I could keep up online. Like my attitude, I had only slightly altered my avatar in game, giving it a slightly longer hairstyle. My classmates would definitely call me an e-boy if it was like that in reality.

I choked back the sub-par remarks and unnecessary compliments that came to mind. “Would you like to try fighting something?”

She pressed a finger to her chin, and looked towards the horizon “Well, I actually signed in early. I’ve already learned the base fighting mechanics…” She paused and looked back towards me, the prior excitement returning to her voice, “I’d gladly show you the ropes though.”

“If you’d like to, then of course I’d be up for that.”

“Good. We just need to head to the plains then.”

I watched the scenery go by. An old fashioned village you might expect to see in a tourist town, plains with grass just slightly too green to be real. Finally, we found ourselves in a meadow surrounded by giant rats and wild boar. This was clearly meant to function as the tutorial. I unsheathed the dual short-swords I had selected in the startup menu. She already had her long sword in hand and was gazing at our opponents, apparently lost in thought.

“Okay, so you should start out by getting an idea of how fast your opponent moves, and their movement patterns. These ones are slow enough that you should be able to build momentum and focus on offence, but later on, there will be enemies that pose more of a threat. To perform a power attack you need to hit the opponent as hard as you can. I’d recommend running towards them before attacking to accomplish that, like this.”

      She ran to a boar and sliced it across the side, so calmly she made it seem effortless. I tried to focus on copying those movements exactly. I ran forward, readied my swords and…

“Your technique is quite impressive,"

An unfamiliar voice caught me off guard. I missed, and the boar stayed up to charge me. Damn it! I took five damage (a quarter of my hit points) and slashed wildly, hitting the boar near its eye. 

I felt a dull kind of pain in my leg, where the boar had hit me, but I reasoned that it was probably nothing. I looked around myself In attempt to find the source of that interruption. Chiaki was standing next to him. Another teenager? Probably a highschool student, but possibly just starting college. He was tall, with white hair that took on a slightly reddish hue at the tips. His silver eyes were hidden in shadow and he seemed to look past me as he watched my approach.

Looking back at Chiaki, he asked in a tone that emanated reverence, "You're the one with that five minute speed run of Monokuma Pizzeria, right? The one that blew up online?"

"Who are you?" I asked, trying not to sound annoyed with the newcomer.

"I forgot to introduce myself, didn't I? Not that it matters, but my name is Nagito. You just have to linger on my avatar if you happen to forget. As to why I'm here, I simply admire talent."

Nagito_the_ultimate_stepping_stone_for_hope… I think I've seen weirder… probably on Reddit, at least.

"I'm Chiaki Nanami, but it seems you already know that." 

"I'm Izuru."

"Since we've been introduced, would you mind teaching someone as worthless as me?" Said Nagito. Now I honestly couldn't tell if this dead-eyed stranger was messing with us or not.

“I was already training Izuru, so I don't mind."

"Sure," I agreed in the most polite tone I could muster, then sighed and resumed practice, killing several more enemies while Chiaki coached Nagito. By the time we decided to stop training, it was late evening, about an hour after I had first logged in.

“We could try searching the town," Chiaki suggested, "I mean, since we have some items we could sell now."

"I was actually thinking about heating up dinner, but I guess I could stay for a little longer."

"It would be an honour to continue playing together." Nagito insisted as he stared directly into my eyes with that strange, placid smile on his face, “I mean, not that I’d want you to put your evening on hold for us.”

I wasn't sure if I should laugh or not, "Well, when you put it that way!” I moved to a more comfortable distance and continued, “It’s really not like I have anything better to do."

Wordlessly, we walked back through the fields until we reached town. The main street was full of other players; talking, breathing, living. I was still a bit stunned by the sheer number of people here on release. We walked into the store following Chiaki, but unfortunately this excursion would come to an untimely end.

Suddenly, the sky changed to a bright crimson. The announcement blared "ALL PLAYERS MUST MEET AT SPAWN IN 5 MINUTES."

Is this some sort of entrance ceremony?

      "It's probably to thank the people here on launch." Nagito said, casually brushing his hair out of his eyes.

      "...Yeah, that sounds right." I agreed as we started walking towards the entrance. "Still, this seems a little excessive."

      He shrugged, and spread his arms as if to gesture at the world in general, “Couldn’t you say the same for all of this?”

      "4 MINUTES…"

      There were thousands of people gathered around the spawn point. Everyone looked uncertain. The incoherent buzz of their whispers only added to the tense atmosphere. My friends, or at least, my current company, had gone silent. We waited there like students about to hear their exam results, or kids about to open gifts. 3 minutes, 2 minutes, 1, finally it appeared. A towering, cloaked figure whose face was hidden except for a single, glowing red eye.

It spoke in a grating, nasal tone, too much like machinery to assuredly be called a voice, "I hate to be this cliche about it, but this game is designed for a higher purpose than just your entertainment. In fact, it would be completely accurate to say that this game will become your life."

The ghoul paused to let those words sink in, or perhaps, to relish in the audience's disbelief at what was to come next.

"You may have noticed that the exit button is curiously absent. That is not a flaw but a feature of this experience. I want you to live out your action hero dreams, so that was a must. There have to be stakes afterall, so your health and your avatar's health are one and the same. If you want to escape, though, I was generous enough to provide an escape route: just complete all one hundred floors, or… there is always the easier way, …isn't there? To keep it short and sweet, I hope you’re grateful for the wonderful opportunity I’m granting you. Fare-well.”

I froze. Those words were now burned into my memory. They were a dream, a killer’s speech in some movie. Nothing like that could happen to someone like me, a completely average, boring nobody-

"Are you okay?" A familiar voice said to me. I blinked. Something about the world around me had changed. We no longer even appeared to be the perfect avatars of ourselves we had created, but flesh and blood, …and yet he seemed unchanged.

"N-Nagito?"

He smiled with relief, "Ah, you're conscious. That's good. You stood there for a while without moving."

"What I heard back there… did you hear it too?"

“Yes, it appears that we’re stuck here.” His eyes shifted downwards, but his voice remained level, “I already checked, the no exit part is accurate at least.”

It is true then. It wasn't just in my head. Then there's no denying it. Still, I tried my best to fight that deranged conclusion. "This could be a publicity stunt, right?"

My companions looked doubtful.

“Even if that is the case, wouldn't it be better to stay here for the time being, in case the safezone rules hold true?” Chiaki asked.

“...You know there's only one way to test that hypothesis, right?” Chiaki and I looked straight at him, he raised his hands defensively in response, “I mean, you can hit me if that gives you peace of mind.”

I sighed, “No, I don't think that'll be necessary. We’ll figure it out sooner or later anyway.”

“At least we still have each other.” Chiaki pointed out, eyes still fixed on the point where that thing had stood. “That must count for something.”

The silence that followed said everything. I wanted to muster a smile, to tell her that I believed we’d be okay… but this was the beginning of a deadly game, we didn’t even know what we were in for yet. That was just the beginning of our new lives, our new reality.

#happy birthday hajime! oh #and happy new year #i've never posted a fanfiction online but I hope you like it #no content warnings #danganronpa #danganronpa online au #hajime hinata #hinata hajime #chiaki nanami #nanami chiaki #nagito komaeda #komaeda nagito

[steelcladbutterfly]

Yandere Fae: Forest

One more from my halloween works! This doesn’t focus on any one character’s perspective for once.

Prompt: Forest

Fae/fairy has been used to describe anything from magical human like beings to creatures like goblins and gnomes. There are both good and bad tales of them, mostly used as cautionary warnings, with certain items said to keep them away or repel them. It is honestly such a broad term that it is even used as an adjective to describe something as magical or enchanting. 

The sound of rustling leaves and the sight of moving branches appeared on the video being recorded on a high end camera. A voice could be heard muttering as branches were slapped out of the way by a hand coming in and out of view. Finally, something new appeared on screen, a cottage nestled by a river with a picturesque garden close by. At that, the view stopped and turned to reveal the face of the man holding the camera. 

“Well, this is certainly something. Not exactly what I expected to find while looking into the tales of fae in the woods, but at least its not a mushroom circle or anything.” 

The man laughed, before peering off towards the currently unseen cottage. He squinted, trying to get a better look before his eyes widened and he turned the camera back around to reveal a figure emerging from the house in clothing that wouldn’t be unexpected at a renaissance fair. 

“Well, it seems like there’s someone here, so I’m gonna try and talk to them. Gotta admit though, they certainly fit in with the scenery. Just gonna put this somewhere a little less unobtrusive. Don’t wanna scare them off with a camera in their face.” 

As he positioned the camera with care into a duffle bag, with just the lens peeking out to continue filming, the video was the only thing to catch the sudden twisting in the branches of the trees above the cottage, as if something had suddenly placed a massive weight on top of them, and the slight cowering of the figure down below. By the time he had turned and shouted to grab their attention, the branches had already twisted back into place. 

“Hey, hello! Sorry, don’t mean to intrude, I was just out here exploring and happened to stumble across your wonderful little house!” 

The person cocked their head, momentarily confused, before realization lit up in their eyes. They gave one last wary glance up and over their shoulder before stepping slightly closer to the man. 

“Ah, yes, hello. It is nice to have a visitor even in spite of the location.” 

Their cautious tone made no difference to the man as he barreled on, too caught up in the fact he found someone at all in the depths of the forest. 

“Well, I’m glad to be here then! Oh yes, and you can call me Matty. By the way, what made you decide to move out here anyways? Isn’t it a little lonely here by yourself? Or could you not handle the hustle and bustle of the city?” 

The person furrowed their brows, unsure how to start, but choosing to focus on one matter in particular. 

“I hope that is not your real name. It is unwise to give it away so easily.” 

“Oh yeah, don’t worry, I know all about the rules. It’s just a nickname! Something other than my actual name to call me by.” 

The person hummed, considering the idea as a look of brief regret crossed their face. 

“Yes, that would likely be the best idea. A different name then the one that is what you answer to. I am sure that would have been helpful.” 

The last line was muttered under their breath, picked up only by the high end mic on the camera still hidden away. 

“I suppose you may call me Feather then. It is a name that is used by my… lover.” 

They shivered, a sudden looming shadow flashing on the video for a brief second, curling around and over Feather. It was gone too fast to pick up any real details but it appeared to be feminine even in spite of the way its limbs appeared too big for the body it appeared on. Matty was too busy to notice, as the sound of rustling pages filled the air and a notebook appeared in his hand. 

“Sorry did you say lover? Where are they then? I was hoping to ask you a few questions about the forest and the creatures within, but if they are up for it, I would be super pumped to have someone else’s perspective!” 

A look of panic appeared in Feather’s eyes as they shook their head frantically. 

“Oh, no, no she’s shy. I doubt she would be very interested in answering any questions.” 

“Ah. That’s too bad. Well, could I bother you for a bit of your time then Feather? You see I came here to look into the stories about fairies in these woods. If you know anything about them, it would really help me out.” 

Feather had stiffened almost imperceptibly at the mention of fairies, but they shook it off, heading towards the small garden to grab a bucket. As they passed by Matty towards the river, they hesitated, before waving him closer and whispering so low that the audio almost didn’t pick it up. 

“I suppose I can tell you a few things.” 

Their voice now raised as the trees appeared to have a weight placed upon them once more when they had leaned in closer to Matty than they had been willing to before. 

“But you’ll have to help me with some chores before I tell you any stories. There is a lot to do and I’m afraid that you have thrown me off my schedule a bit.” 

The sound of branches being released once more filled the air as Matty readily agreed, asking only for a moment to place his bag somewhere safe as he pushed the notebook back where it had emerged from. Feather looked curiously at the duffle bag, poking at the material and strap. Matty looked over at them, laughing at the curiosity on their face. 

“What’s the matter? Have you never seen a duffle bag before? It’s pretty much just like any other bag with a zipper but it’s much easier to carry over one shoulder. Assuming you don’t fill it up too much.” 

Feather blinked, turning to the man behind them as they pulled away from tracing the neat line made by the teeth holding the two sides together.

“A duffle bag? Do you have to sew it shut? Is that what this odd part on it is for? Is that what a zipper does? Then how do you open it again?” 

Matty laughed at that, but it petered off at the curious look on Feather’s face. 

“Wow, okay. How about this? I help you with the work, and once that is all done, we can do something like 21 questions. I ask you a question and once you’ve answered, you ask a question, and so on and so forth.” 

“Yes, alright, that sounds like fun. I have never heard of this 21 questions, but it certainly seems like a fascinating little past-time.” 

Feather clapped their hands together, interrupting Matty before he could make another remark. They picked up the bucket they had previously set down and continued off towards the river, Matty following behind as they marched off, leaving his bag and camera behind. 

~~~~~

The video had continued nonstop, managing to catch most of the interactions between the two visible beings from its excellent vantage point. Feather appeared diligent, always ready with a new task and never seeming to slow down even as Matty began to lag around midday. 

At that point, they stopped for food, Feather heading inside to bring out already prepared food for themselves. They said their lover had made it, even as they kept it far from Matty’s hands. He laughed at that, stating that he had his own food. 

“After all, there’s no telling what that food may do if it was made by a fairy!” 

He laughed it off as a joke, but Feather flinched, looking down at the food. They seemed resigned, eating at the food slowly as the suddenly alive forest calmed down once more as the first bite passed their lips. 

Soon, it was straight back to work, with Matty being much more lively than Feather was at the start. The video continued to roll, capturing the moments when the trees seemed to break from their spots and reach out as if to wrap around Matty and tear him away whenever he came too close to Feather. But every time, it would retreat as if nothing had happened. 

By the end of the day, Matty was none the wiser to why Feather seemed more cautious than ever. But that all changed when they finally sat down to start their back and forth questioning. 

~~~~~ 

The camera was finally moved as the bag was picked up and moved to be more accessible. Feather came into view for a moment, tilting their head curiously before it was shifted and the lens was now pointed towards the cottage that had been out of view all day. 

It appeared somewhat more ominous in the dusk, despite the lanterns hung above the door and on the sides of the roof that Feather had carefully lit while out of view of the camera. Matty began speaking as a dark shape seemed to warp into view; as large as the trees before shrinking silently down to the shape that had appeared for a brief moment after Feather had commented on their lover. It made no move to shift from its spot as Matty spoke, it just stood there. 

“Anyways, let’s start shall we? I’ll go first, are there fairies in these woods?” 

There was a brief pause before Feather spoke. 

“I know there is at least a fae in these woods. Now, it is my turn, how do you open this bag?” 

There was a slight sound of moving fabric as Feather presumably poked the duffle bag. Matty explained it with ease as he pulled back on the zipper, widening the view the lens had access to before zipping it back and forth a few times. Each time the figure became slowly more warped as Feather exclaimed in awe at the sight. 

“Anyways, my turn! Do you know what this fae does and how long its been here?” 

Feather giggled at that, the sound causing the figure to lean towards the sound as if savoring it. 

“I think that’s two questions. So, I’ll answer one and then the other after my turn.” 

“Darn, I thought it would work! Oh well, I guess the one about what it does then first.” 

“So, I don’t know all of the specifics, but she can at least control plant life to a certain degree and change her size and shape. She can also stay hidden from sight, that I know for certain.” 

Matty exclaimed in awe at that, fascinated by the idea even as the video continued to roll, putting the pieces together in footage unseen as the figure faded from view, seen only reaching towards the side Feather sat on as if to embrace them before vanishing from sight. 

“Wow, that’s impressive! Anyways, I’m ready for your next question!” 

“Oh yes, when you opened the bag there was something in there. I just wanted to know what it is used for.” 

The bag was unzipped once more and uncertain hands pulled out the camera, as the lens got a sudden close up of Feather’s face as they inspected the item before it was flipped over to Matty’s suddenly upside down and worried face. 

“Well, it’s a camera, just be careful it was very expensive. I honestly thought you knew what it was, which was why I hid it from view. It can take pictures, but it also has the ability to record videos with sound, kind of like a movie, I guess.” 

Matty laughed, face still in view as he rubbed the back of his head sheepishly as he revealed he had been recording what was happening. His eyebrows furrowed as Feather’s silence continued. 

“You… do know what a camera is, right?” 

“No, I do. I know what it is vaguely, but this looks nothing like what I know of.” 

Silence fell for a moment, during which Feather set the camera on the table gently as Matty automatically moved it right side up. The trees behind him were twisted once more, sharpened and reaching towards the oblivious man. Feather spoke up, voice wavering as the trees creaked and groaned with the forced movement. 

“Matty, you asked me how long the fae has been here. I am afraid I do not know for I have no idea what year it is or how long I have been here. Please, Matty, tell me what year it is before it is too late.” 

Matty gulped, suddenly seeming to notice the ominous movement of the trees and, judging by how his eyes flicked up way above eye level, the figure that had now come back into view. But his face firmed despite the risk he was suddenly well aware of. 

“It’s 2022.” 

Everything stopped moving. The trees slowed their creep forward, the nightlife suddenly hushed completely, and even the vague flickering from the lanterns seemed to pause. Feather was the first to break it, letting out a sudden sobbing keen, shuffling slightly as if something was holding then back even as Matty halted his sudden attempts to comfort them. They final spoke, trying ro be as clear as possible.

“Matty, you need to leave now. Run and never look back. You cannot do anything for me, so please just get away.” 

“What do you mean? You can’t honestly just expect me to leave-“ 

“I SAID GO!”

Matty leapt into action at the sudden scream, grabbing his camera and bag before turning to run. The view shifted to focus on Feather who was sobbing and held firmly in the creature’s arms as she snarled at Matty, sending a wave of plants to follow him as the world burst back into life. Over the panting of Matty and the shifting and cracking of plant life, Feather’s voice could be heard faintly in the distance. 

“You said I would still be able to visit my family before they died! It has been over two centuries! How could you! I came with you and dealt with your selfish needs for over two centuries and you wouldn’t even let me see them one last time?” 

It was a heartbreaking wail for retribution that Feather would never get, but the video continued steadily farther and farther away from the still trapped Feather as Matty continued to run from the vicious plant life around him. 

The video ended before safety was found. The camera had been jostled out of the hole still left unzipped in the bag and fell hard onto the ground. The last image it captured was Matty continuing to run into the growing darkness of the night before the lens was covered by a vine that crept around and around the piece of machinery until it was cracked open and shattered to pieces. 

~~~~~

A new video started. Matty’s face came into view, a large bandage wrapped around his head. As it slowly panned around, it was clear he had been through something awful. Nearly every surface had a cast on it and what wasn’t covered by clothes or bandages was colored in shades of blue and purple, with the slight yellow green of healing bruises around the edges. 

“Well, I lost the video that would make this one make sense to anyone else, but I’m not going to be able to do anything about that for now. I survived, but Feather is still stuck with whatever that monster was. I have no idea how to save them or if I will even be able to find them again, but I’m not going to give up. No matter what it takes, I’m gonna get them out of there and somewhere safe. That’s a promise.” 

Matty’s determined eyes were proof enough of his conviction as the video ended, for now.

#yandere #yandere fairy #yandere fae #went for more of an eldritch feel to the yandere this time #Yandere x reader #Folk tales #this is not really from any one character’s perspective this time

[fortheloveofwonderland]

What Lies in Our Anatomy | S.R | Part 2/3

Previous Part | Next Part

Summary - staying away from Spencer was a lot harder than you expected. But keeping your relationship from a team of profilers would be almost impossible.

Warnings - drinking, swearing, getting caught, fingering, handjob, bisexual Spencer, arguing, angst, cheating and affairs, brief hint that Spencer’s best friend is Riley Jenkins sister.

Word Count - 7.2k

Part Two - Losing My Religion

September - Nine Months Ago

“I feel like all we do is have sex.” You rolled onto your side, picking up a slice of pizza from the box in the middle of the bed. 

“We’re not having sex right now. Ergo, we do more than have sex.” He chuckled, taking a bite out of his own slice and not so subtly trying to pull the sheet down to expose your naked breasts. 

You held it tightly around your body, rolling your eyes at his attempt to see you naked again already. 

He was laying on his stomach with the sheet thrown off his body, your eyes grazing over his bare ass every so often while you ate. 

“We’ve spent the last seventeen hours in your apartment and at least sixteen and a half of those have been spent in this bed.” You picked at a piece of pepperoni.

“You’re complaining?” He chuckled lightly, finishing his slice and discarding the crust back in the box that laid between the two of you. 

“Not complaining.” You mused. “I just…I feel like I know nothing about you. It’s been a month of amazing sex but I’d like to get to know you.”

“You know me intimately.” He smirked at you and you freed your leg from under the sheet so you could kick him lightly in the side.

“You know what I mean.” 

He shuffled up the bed so his face was next to yours. His messy hair splayed out against the pillow and his eyes were sparkling in the dim light of the room. 

“What would you like to know?” He stroked the side of your face.

You hummed at the feeling, so content at that moment in time. 

Staying away from Doctor Spencer Reid had been the hardest thing in the world and in fact it had only lasted four weeks. 

Those four weeks were the most difficult of your life. 

Every time you laid eyes on him you wanted to jump his bones. Working with him when you weren’t sleeping with him was more difficult than it had been when you were. 

It had been just as hard on him too. 

Eventually he’d given in, called you into his office one night after everyone had gone home. 

He told you he couldn’t stop thinking about you and that he was infatuated by you. 

And you’d ended up having sex on his desk. 

For the past month you spent all your free time with Spencer in bed. You kept your personal and work life separate and never hooked up during cases. 

But once back in DC, the two of you couldn’t keep your hands off of each other. And with the sexual tension diffused, you were able to focus on your work more and not get distracted by him. 

“Anything. Everything.” You tossed your pizza crust in the box. “Are you really as smart as people say you are?” 

He chewed on his bottom lip as though contemplating that for a moment.

“I have an IQ of one hundred and eighty seven.” He shrugged. 

“For real?” 

“For real.” He laughed. 

“Wow.” You suddenly felt a little inadequate. 

“Anything else you’d like to know?” He was smirking at you. 

“Why did you leave New York? There’s a lot of rumours going around.” 

“Oh yeah?” His eyebrows shot up in amusement. “Like what?”

“That you got demoted after you shot an unarmed guy.” 

His lip twitched into a smile and a soft chuckle escaped him. 

“That would get me demoted.” His eyes sparkled. “But it’s completely untrue.” 

“So why did you leave New York?”

“Fancied a change of scenery.” 

“You actively took a step down?” You raised an eyebrow at him. 

“I did.” He knew you’d have more questions so he continued. “I worked for the New York field office for almost twenty years. I worked my way to assistant director and it was…nice. But it was all paperwork and politics, I never got out in the field and I was bored. When I got the call about the job at the BAU…the timing was right. I was ready for a change. That’s all there is to it.” 

“No, there’s more to it than that.” You narrowed your eyes on him skeptically. 

“Are you profiling me?” He laughed, suddenly kicking the pizza box off the bed and rolling himself on top of you. “Because if you want to play that game you’ll lose.” 

You giggled when Spencer started attacking you with sloppy kisses all over your face and his hands began running all over your body. 

You wrapped your arms around him, keeping him close, your laughter started to subside as his hands wandered lower and you felt him growing hard again. 

And soon, all thoughts of your previous conversation were banished. 

***

November - Seven and a Half Months Ago

The car was blanketed in a tangible silence. 

You kept your eyes trained out of the window while he drove, gripping the steering wheel tightly. 

It was the first time you’d been alone since your birthday a few weeks ago, when the incident occurred. 

Neither of you had spoken about it since but now alone in the close confines of the car, it was all you could think about. 

And you knew he was thinking it too. 

Saying something might make the situation worse. But not saying anything would make it more awkward. 

You sighed and glanced across at him. His eyebrows were furrowed heavily as he watched the road in front of him. 

Rolling your bottom lip between your teeth and gripping the sides of the chair, you decided to say something. 

“You uh…you haven’t told anyone, have you?” You held your breath as you saw his grip on the wheel tighten. 

“What, that you’re sleeping with our boss? No, Y/L/N, I haven’t told anyone.” He grumbled. 

You’d never heard him like this before. Granted you didn’t know him that well but he was usually so friendly. 

It was probably inevitable that you’d get caught. You and Spencer hadn’t been careful enough. 

It was your birthday and you’d had a few drinks. And when Spencer suggested hooking up you’d known it was a bad idea. But you just couldn’t help yourself around him. 

You turned your attention back out of the window and gnawed on your bottom lip. 

“Good. Thank you.” You whispered, half hoping he wouldn’t hear you. 

“You’re both good agents. If I tell someone you could lose your jobs and the team doesn’t need that. I didn’t do it for you or Reid. I did it for the team. And I’m sure you’re smart enough to know this will only end in disaster.” 

You knew he was right. You’d known that since the first day Spencer walked onto the jet as your Unit Chief. 

But you couldn’t walk away from him. You were already in over your head. It stopped being about just sex for you. 

You hoped he felt the same. You hoped when you inevitably fell, he’d be there to catch you. 

Otherwise you were in for a hell of a fall.

***

October - Eight Months Ago (Two Weeks Prior)

You sipped your wine, leaning back against the wall as you did so, trying to act coy.

Of course you were being anything but. 

He periodically caught your eye and smiled at you softly around his scotch glass. 

You felt yourself blush each time and tried to hide it with your glass. 

The two of you were far from subtle, staring at each other across a crowded room like a couple of awkward teenagers. But if anyone noticed anything, they didn't mention it. 

“There you are!” Garcia’s voice caused you to tear your eyes away from Spencer and you hoped you weren’t still blushing as you looked at her. 

“Hi.” You squeaked, voice a slightly higher octave than usual. 

“Are you ok?” Garcia frowned a little, clearly noticing the change in your tone. 

“Yes! You just scared me.” You sipped your wine, hoping she’d buy it. 

At least she wasn’t a profiler. 

“Ok.” She clapped her hands together before gripping you by the shoulders. “It’s time to open presents!” 

You hadn’t planned on telling the team it was your birthday, but of course Garcia was privy to all the personnel files. 

They’d thrown you a surprise party at The Simmon’s house, all the kids were off with their grandparents for the night. 

There had been a lot of alcohol flowing and you and Spencer hadn’t stopped making eyes at each other all night. 

You let Garcia lead you through to the living room where the rest of the team had started to gather around a large pile of presents. 

One by one you opened them, thanking everyone for their sweet and thoughtful gifts. You’d only been on the team three months but you already felt so welcome in the family. 

The last gift Garcia handed you was a dark red gift bag tied with a matching ribbon. It had a little gift tag attached to it which simply read “your secret admirer.” 

You felt your chest tighten and you glanced up to see Spencer smiling at you. 

He was playing a dangerous game. It was as though he wanted to get caught. 

“Secret admirer?” Garcia squealed loudly, right next to your ear. 

“Uh yeah…” you swallowed, toying with the bag in your lap.

“It was left on the doorstep just before you all started to arrive.” Matt offered. 

“Is there something you aren’t telling us, Y/N?” Tara giggled. 

“Uh…” you briefly looked at Spencer before looking back at Tara. “I might be seeing someone. But it’s new and…secret.” 

For a few moments the team started speculating amongst themselves giving you a chance to look across at Spencer again. 

He was grinning from ear to ear like the Cheshire Cat. He was enjoying this too much.

“Well then, are you going to open it?” JJ cajoled you, nodding towards the bag. 

You gripped it in your hands tightly. 

“Why do I feel like I’m going to live to regret this?” You mumbled quietly under your breath as you pulled the ribbon off the top. 

You opened the bag and peered inside, seeing a neatly folded pink tissue paper parcel at the bottom of the bag. 

Cautiously you pulled it out and set it in your lap but you were already sure you knew what was inside. 

“I don’t think this is the kind of present I should open here.” You whispered to Garcia at your side.

“Oh don’t be silly!” She chirruped, clearly not sensing your discomfort. “Open it!”

“I really don’t think-“

“Come on Y/N!” Luke goaded you with his signature grin. 

“Guys, I really don’t think that it’s a good idea to-“

You were cut off by JJ reaching over you and snatching the parcel from your hands. 

Your chest tightened again and you looked between JJ and Spencer, who looked incredibly amused. 

“If you aren’t going to, I will.” JJ laughed, ripping open the pink tissue paper with ease. 

You closed your eyes, pinching the bridge of your nose and you knew Spencer was loving every second of this. 

The room fell silent. You kept your eyes squeezed tightly shut and held your breath, waiting for someone, anyone to talk. 

It felt like hours. Thick, palpable hours. The silence was deafening. You thought you might be sick. 

The first person to break the silence, as usual, was Garcia. 

“Oh.” She stared at the item in JJ’s lap. “Oh well…they’re pretty aren’t they?” 

“Guys you all need to step up your games.” Tara laughed. 

“Yeah take note boys, these are extremely expensive. Y/N’s secret admirer went all out.” JJ agreed. 

“I feel like I shouldn’t have seen that.” Rossi groaned. 

You finally opened your eyes just as the older man was leaving the room, shaking his head. 

Luke and Matt looked equally as uncomfortable while the girls all fawned over the present still in JJ’s lap. 

You finally looked at what it was and felt your cheeks burn instantly. 

In JJ’s lap was a fire red lace thong and matching lacy bra. 

You looked back at Spencer who was trying to hide his laugh behind his glass. 

You wanted to strangle him. You wanted to smack the smug look right off of his face. 

“Whoever your secret admirer is did very well.” JJ handed you the lingerie set which you quickly balled up and stuffed back inside the gift bag. 

Your cheeks were probably the same colour as the garment right now. 

Thankfully it died down pretty quickly and everyone went back to enjoying the party. You kept the gift bag on you, slung over your arm in the hopes of avoiding anymore embarrassment. 

A little while later you felt your phone going off inside of your purse. 

When you opened the message, you felt your cheeks burning again and were so glad no one was near you, peering at your phone over your shoulder.

📲 Spencer Reid: put on your gift and meet me out front in ten. 

That man was going to be the death of you. 

How you’d kept your relationship a secret from a group of profilers for two months was beyond you. And tonight he’d almost blown your cover completely. 

But nonetheless, you did as he said. You were such a sucker for that man that you couldn’t deny him anything. 

You excused yourself to use the bathroom, slipped the lingerie on under your dress before trying to sneak out the house without anyone noticing.

Thankfully, everyone was already quite drunk at this point and no one spotted you as you slipped out the Simmon’s front door. 

Spencer was waiting for you at the bottom of the driveway, leaning up against the side of his old car, arms folded over his chest. 

You hurried over to him, but stopped short before you reached him. 

“You’re playing a dangerous game, Doctor.” You raised an eyebrow at him. 

“They’re clueless.” He unfolded his arms and reached out for you, grabbing your waist and pulling you closer. “Did you put them on?” 

“What if I didn’t?” You dared to tease him.

Spencer chuckled dryly, moving his hands up to your shoulders and brushing one strap of your dress down your shoulder. 

He moved it enough to expose the bright red strap of your new bra. 

“You’re such a good girl.” He breathed, placing a kiss of praise to your shoulder. 

“We could get caught.” You whispered but your body was already begging for him. 

“They’re all too drunk to realise we’re gone. And we won’t be long.” He whispered against your skin, reaching behind him with one hand to open his car door. 

He took your hand and pulled you with him as he sat down in the driver's seat, reclining the chair. He tugged you down into his lap and closed the door behind you. 

His lips attached to your neck and started sucking deep bruises into your flesh. You grinded down on him, feeling he was hard already. 

His hands wandered over your thighs until he gripped the hem of your dress and pulled it up your body and over your head. 

He discarded it on the passenger's seat before raking his eyes up and down your body clad in his gift. 

“Fuck, I knew that would look perfect on you.” He growled, bucking his hips up. 

“It’s fucking La Perla. This must have cost hundreds of dollars.” 

“Worth every single cent.” He ran his hands over your back and down your ass. “You look like a fucking goddess.”

He pulled you in for a kiss while his hand worked between your legs, moving the thong aside and gasping at how wet you were already. 

He ran his fingers through your folds before settling his thumb on your clit and rubbing circles on the bud. 

You moaned into his mouth and rocked back and forth in his lap. 

“Happy birthday, angel.” He spoke against your lips. 

You simply moaned in reply, grinding against his fingers. 

Knowing you probably didn’t have much time before someone would be looking for you, you started undoing his belt and pants and moving them down enough to free his erection. 

He kept rubbing your clit while you took his shaft in your hand and started stroking it. 

He bucked up against your hand, moaning softly as he picked up his speed between your legs. His free hand moved to the clasp of your bra and toyed with it for a moment. 

Just as he was about to unhook it, you were both startled out of your pleasure by a knocking on the car window. 

Pulling back from Spencer’s lips but keeping your body close to his to shield you both, you turned your heads towards the window. 

David Rossi looked the picture of unimpressed. 

His thick eyebrows were furrowed heavily and his eyes were dark with frustration. 

“I’m going home. You’re blocking me in.” His voice carried through the closer window and he nodded his head behind him to where his car was on the drive. 

You nuzzled your head into Spencer’s shoulder, trying to hide your utter mortification at the situation. 

“Two minutes.” Spencer croaked in reply. 

You heard Rossi step away and you groaned loudly against Spencer’s neck. 

“I told you we’d get caught.” You mumbled. 

Spencer didn’t speak. He simply helped you back into your dress and tucked himself away before motioning you out of the car. 

***

June - Present Day

Spencer found him waiting in his office, sitting on the couch, drumming his fingers against the leather. 

He looked up as Spencer entered the room, closing the door heavily behind him. Spencer shuffled towards his desk and sat down on the edge of it, looking his husband in the eyes. 

Ethan was not a profiler but he had one of the best poker faces Spencer had ever seen. They’d been together for years but Spencer still struggled to tell what Ethan was thinking from time to time. 

Now was no exception. 

Ethan tore his eyes away from Spencer and glanced down at the wedding ring on his finger. He’d never once taken it off, not even when Spencer left. 

Spencer looked down at his own matching band, the one he’d only worn again for a few months. It felt like a noose slowly strangling him. 

Ethan looked back at him and this time Spencer saw the sadness in his eyes. 

“You’re still sleeping with her, aren’t you?” He croaked out. 

“No.” Spencer told him honestly. “I haven’t slept with her since you came to town.” 

“Bullshit.” Ethan scoffed. “Do you think I’m an idiot?” 

“No, I don’t think you’re an idiot.” Spencer shook his head. “I think you’re a hypocrite. I think you’re an asshole. But I don’t think you’re an idiot.” 

“We got married too young.” Ethan ran his fingers over his beared jaw. 

“Probably, yes.” Spencer agreed. 

“That’s on me, I was too quick to propose. I always knew you were straight.” He shook his head sadly. 

“Oh for the love of god. I married you didn’t I? In fact I married you twice!” Spencer rolled his eyes. 

When he and Ethan had decided to get married, same sex marriage had not yet being legalised and they’d formed a civil partnership. Once it was made legal six years later, they’d gotten married all over again. 

“And,” Spencer continued. ”I’m not the only one in this relationship who has slept with a woman! Like I said, hypocrite.” Spencer scoffed. 

“You weren’t into guys before you met me. I should have known.” 

“Oh fuck you Ethan, don’t throw that in my face.” Spencer pushed himself to his feet. “If you get to be bisexual, so do I! You slept with a woman behind my back when we were still together. I slept with a woman after I left you.” 

“I thought we got past this, Spencer. You gave me another chance. You can’t keep throwing my affair back in my face.”

“Like hell I can’t!” Spencer raised his voice. 

Ethan pushed himself up from the couch and came closer to Spencer, anger spilling from his eyes. 

“I might have slept with someone else-“

“My best friend.” Spencer cut him off. “You slept with my best friend.”

“I might have slept with someone else,” Ethan repeated, clearly ignoring his husband. “But you fell in love with someone else. That’s worse, Spencer. That’s fucking worse!” 

“I wouldn’t have been in the position to fall in love with someone else if you hadn’t cheated on me! I was fucking miserable Ethan! I was hurt and I was broken and I met Y/N and she…she…”

“She what?” Ethan snarled. 

Spencer ran his fingers through his tousled curls with a heavy sigh. 

“She made me feel things I never felt for you.” He confessed. There was no point lying now. “I was a kid when we got married, I didn’t know what love was. I thought you were the love of my life, I really did. But I was just a kid. We were both just kids, Ethan. 

Our marriage wouldn’t have survived even if you hadn’t slept with Amelia. We were kids who thought we knew what we were doing but we were just playing adults.”

“So what are you saying?” Ethan folded his arms across his chest. 

“I’m saying,” Spencer sighed again, glancing at his wedding ring once more. “I choose her. I choose Y/N.” 

Ethan felt his chest constrict as he watched Spencer slide his wedding ring off his finger and hold it in his palm. 

“Spencer, don’t do this. We can work through this.” Ethan went to reach for the ring but Spencer snapped his palm closed. 

“No we can’t.” Spencer shook his head. “We tried to work through this but I can’t do it anymore. The truth is I don’t love you anymore and I haven’t for a long time.”

Ethan didn’t look surprised by his words. He was under no illusion, he’d known Spencer didn’t love him anymore, if he ever had. If truth be told he probably didn’t love Spencer the way he used to. 

But they had history. They’d been together nearly half of their lives. He wasn’t prepared to lose Spencer, not like this. 

“Don’t say that. We’ll be ok, Spencer. We’re always ok.” He grabbed Spencer by the shoulders frantically. 

“Ethan, stop.” Spencer tried to push him away. 

“I can’t lose you. Not to her.” 

“You lost me the moment you decided to sleep with Amelia.” He got free of Ethan’s hold and pushed past him towards his office door. 

He stuffed his wedding ring in his pocket as he threw the door open. 

In the bullpen his team tried and failed to pretend they hadn’t been watching the two men through the window and quickly turn their attention back to their desks. 

He noticed immediately that your desk was empty. He needed to find you. 

Ignoring the fact Ethan was hot on his heels and the concerned looks from his team, he marched across the bullpen towards the glass double doors. 

You had to be with Penelope. He had to find you. 

He shoved open the doors but before he could start down the corridor towards Penelope’s office, he stopped in his tracks when he saw the brunette stepping out of the elevators. 

“Amelia?” Spencer’s face fell the moment his eyes landed on her. “What are you doing here?” 

“Amy?” Ethan’s voice came from behind him. 

“I assumed I’d find you here.” She addressed Ethan instead of Spencer. 

Spencer didn’t hear her though. He didn’t hear anything apart from the sound of his heart beating in his ears. 

His blood froze in his veins as he honed in on what was in Amelia’s arms. 

Ethan and Amelia continued to talk but no words made it to his ears. 

All Spencer could focus on was the tiny, swaddled baby in her arms. 

***

July - Eleven Months, One Week Ago

Letting himself in his brownstone, Spencer huffed out a sigh he’d been holding in all day. 

He hung his satchel on the coat rack by the door and kicked off his shoes before running his fingers through his bird nest of hair. 

He’d gotten the call again today. It was the third time in two weeks. 

Years ago he’d put his name forward for the Unit Chief job at the Behavioural Analysis Unit at Quantico. Although he loved New York, the BAU were the best of the best. 

He’d never heard anything from it and not long after he’d been promoted to assistant director of the New York field office and forgotten all about it. 

But now the BAU Unit Chief was stepping down and they wanted him as her replacement. 

He hadn’t even mentioned it to Ethan. Ethan hated DC and would never agree to live there. He’d probably hate the idea of Spencer taking a step back down the ladder he’d worked so hard to climb too. 

Being AD was exhausting. He wanted a change of pace. But he knew his husband would never go for it, so he didn’t even bother to tell him. 

He loosened his tie and let it hang limply from his neck. He headed down the hall towards the kitchen for a much needed glass of scotch. 

As he reached the doorway, a sound coming from upstairs caught his attention. 

He frowned to himself. Ethan told him he had a gig tonight and he wouldn’t be home until late. 

He held his breath and listened closely. It was a faint, soft thudding sound followed by…was that a moan? 

He scratched the back of his neck as he padded towards the staircase. 

He quietly crept up the first two stairs, hand instinctively finding his weapon in the holster on his hip. 

He didn’t draw it just yet, only curled his fingers around the grip. He climbed a few more steps, the thudding getting louder. 

When he was just over half way up the staircase, fingers tightening around the grip of his weapon, another sound caused him to freeze in his tracks. 

“Oh fuck, Ethan!” 

Spencer’s hold on the gun loosened and his hand fell to his side. His heart started hammering against his ribcage. 

Moans, he could hear moans. Female moans. 

He suddenly bolted back into action and ran up the rest of the staircase towards his bedroom. He flung open the door and his worst fear manifested itself in front of his eyes. 

“What. The. Fuck.” His jaw fell open and his eyes widened. 

The two people in his bed stilled their movements and looked towards him in the doorway. 

Ethan was on his back on the mattress, his hair frantically sticking up at every which angle. The brunette straddling him chewed on her lip guiltily, pulling the sheet up to cover her naked body. 

“Spencer,” Amelia slid off of his husband. “Fuck.” 

Spencer looked between them and the discarded clothes littering his bedroom floor. 

He clenched his jaw so hard his teeth grinded together. His heart was furiously pounding and all he could see was red. 

“Spence…” Ethan sat up, a guilty look on his face too. 

“I’m sorry Spencer.” Amelia was still chewing her lip. 

Spencer glared at them, anger flooding every nerve in his body. 

“Sorry?” He spoke the word like it was alien to him. “You’re sorry?” 

Ethan shuffled out of the bed and grabbed his boxers which he slipped on.

“We can explain.” He held his hands up as he approached his husband. 

“You can explain?” Spencer glared at him. “Oh please do, I would love to hear an explanation for why the two of you were naked together in my bed.” 

“Spencer, I’m so sorry. It was a mistake.” Amelia reached for him from where she knelt on the bed, sheet wrapped around her body. 

He batted her away. 

“You slept with my husband.” He snarled at her. “You’re supposed to be my best friend!” 

“I’m sorry.” A few tears trailed down her cheeks and Spencer wanted to slap them off her face. 

Instead he grabbed her roughly by the arm, dragging her to her feet. 

He grabbed up her clothes in his other hand and threw her out of the bedroom, clothes flying behind. 

“Get out of my house, you bitch!” He spat at her. 

“Spencer, please let me-“ 

“Shut up.” He cut her off. “You don’t get to talk. Get out of my house you fucking homewreaker!”

Amelia was sobbing by now but it didn’t do anything to subside his anger. If anything it made the rage bubble even more. 

“We’ve known each other since we were six years old! Six fucking years old! I was there for you when Riley died, I’ve always been there for you! And this is how you repay me? Fuck you, Amelia! Get out of my house and don’t even think about coming back!” He slammed the door in her face before she could reply, too enraged to even look at her. 

He spun back around to face Ethan who still stood by the bed in his boxers. 

“I’m sorry, Spence.” He sniffed, chewing on his bottom lip. 

“Sorry you did it, or sorry you got caught?” Spencer scoffed, pushing past his husband towards the closet.

“It was a stupid mistake! A one time thing! I'm so sorry!” Ethan started to cry as Spencer threw open the closet and started rifling through it. 

“I don’t care if it was a mistake. I don’t care if it happened once or twenty times! You fucked my best friend!” Spencer yelled, tossing items of Ethan’s clothing over his shoulders.

“What are you doing?” Ethan choked on a sob.

“What do you think I’m doing? I’m kicking your ass out.” He kept pulling items off hangers and throwing them behind him. 

Soon shoes started flying towards Ethan and he narrowly avoided being hit by them. 

“Spencer, talk to me.” Ethan moved through the debris Spencer was creating towards him. 

“There’s nothing to talk about.” He turned away from the closet and pushed past Ethan on his way to the dresser. “You cheated on me. In our bed. In our HOME! There is nothing to talk about.” 

Ethan flung himself at Spencer, wrapping his arms around him from behind and sobbing.

“Please, Spencer! Please don’t throw away all our years together for a stupid mistake!” 

“Don’t touch me.” Spencer practically wrestled Ethan away from him. 

He looked at him, tears streaming down his cheeks and Spencer hated his husband at that moment. 

“Spencer…” Ethan pouted.

“I am not the one throwing our life away. You did that when you chose to sleep with my best friend. This is not on me.” He turned away again and started rifling through the drawers of the dresser and throwing Ethan’s underwear and socks over his shoulder. 

“I was lonely! You’re never here! And even when you are here physically, mentally you’re always so far away!” Ethan whined a little as he spoke. 

Spencer clenched and unclenched his fists at his side and took a few breaths before turning back to face Ethan.

“I’m never here because I have a real fucking job Ethan! Something you would know all about if you hadn't dropped out of the academy your first week! I’m never here because someone has to make money to afford this house! Someone has to make money because god forbid you ever got a real job! 

I work fucking hard, I pull long hours because how else would we afford to live? We can’t exactly live off the money from your sporadic gigs, can we? So don’t blame me for the fact you cheated. There’s no excuse. You made that decision. You did that. Not me.” He started collecting up clothes in his arms and Ethan followed him around like a lost puppy. 

“I never asked for this lifestyle, Spencer. I never even wanted to live in New York! I would have been happy in New Orleans in a…a shack if you were by my side! I didn’t need the big house or the Central Park views. You wanted that, I never asked for any of it. You work those hours to afford a lifestyle you wanted, not me.” Ethan followed him to the door which he threw open, thankfully Amelia had better sense than to stay, and headed to the stairs. 

“You wanted to join the FBI! One week into the academy and it got too tough for you. You’re telling me you’d rather be a jazz musician in New Orleans than live here, in our beautiful, expensive home?” Spencer glared at him. 

“I always wanted to do that, don’t pretend this is the first time you’re hearing it. You wanted to work for the FBI. You wanted to live in New York. And I agreed because I love you! But I have never had a say in this relationship. We’ve always done what you want to do because Spencer Reid always gets his own way. I haven’t made a single decision for myself in nearly twenty years!” Ethan was still crying but his voice was raised now. 

Spencer dropped the clothes in his arms, landing at the top of the stairs, before he suddenly advanced on Ethan. 

Ethan backed up against the wall as Spencer got closer, he was practically foaming at the mouth. 

He gripped Ethan a little roughly by the shoulders, his fingernails digging in his bare skin. 

When he spoke, the venom laced in his words scared Ethan slightly. 

“You decided to sleep with my best friend. That was a decision you made. And if I was such an overbearing and controlling husband then you should be happy to hear that I never want to see you again.” He let go of Ethan and marched back to the top of the stairs and kicked the pile of clothes. 

Spencer watched them flutter down the staircase before looking back at his husband. 

“Get out of my house.” He spat. 

“Spencer, please. We can-“

“Get out now. I will pack the rest of your shit up but you will never step foot in this house again. Get out!” Similarly to Amelia, Spencer grabbed Ethan by the arm and dragged him down the stairs. 

“Spencer!” Ethan tried to break from his hold as he was tugged towards the front door. 

Spencer ignored him, throwing up the front door with his free hand before pushing Ethan over the threshold and kicking his clothes out behind him. 

Still in just his boxers, tears streaming down his face, he looked at his husband forlornly from the front step. 

“Please, Spencer. Please don’t do this.” Ethan sobbed. 

“Go to hell.” Spencer spat. 

His final move before slamming the door in Ethan’s face was to rip his wedding ring from his finger and throw it at Ethan. 

Ethan fumbled to catch it and opened his mouth to speak but the door was suddenly crashing closed in his face. 

Only once the door was closed did Spencer let his tears overflow. 

He collapsed to the floor in front of the door and pulled his knees to his chin while he sobbed into the fabric of his pants. 

Ethan continued banging heavily on the door, screaming through the wood but Spencer neglected his pleas. 

His body trembled as he cried over the end of his relationship that had been the better part of half of his life. 

In one fleeting moment, he’d lost everything. Ethan made one stupid decision and Spencer’s whole life was turned upside down. 

He felt like his heart was splitting in two in his chest. He struggled to catch his breath between his sobs. 

As he cried into his knees with Ethan screeching through the door, Spencer made a decision. 

Tomorrow he was going to call the director of the Behavioural Analysis Unit back and accept the job at Quantico. 

***

January - Five Months Ago

“I’m not going to lie to you,” Spencer glanced over at you as you walked hand in hand through the park. “As much as I love having sex all the time, it’s really nice to be out in public with you.” 

You giggled, giving his hand a firm squeeze. 

“It’s amazing what you can discover when you leave the bedroom.” You smiled up at him as a light breeze hit your face. “Tonight has been wonderful.” 

Spencer had surprised you turning up at your apartment that night and at first you’d thought he just wanted to have sex, which you wouldn’t have been opposed to. 

But that hadn’t been his idea for a change. 

You’d been shocked when he handed you a huge bouquet of red roses and a garment bag. He’d smiled at your confusion and kissed you softly on the cheek. 

“Go put that on, we’re going out.” 

With very little protest you’d hurried to your room to inspect what was in the garment bag. 

Sheathed inside was the most gorgeous royal blue, satin dress you’d ever seen. It fit you perfectly, hugging your curves and dipping low enough to show a classy amount of cleavage. 

It stopped halfway down your thighs and felt like heaven against your skin. And there was something so sexy about wearing something he’d picked out for you. 

He took you to an extremely fancy restaurant and ordered the most expensive bottle of wine. He paid for everything despite your insistence to split the check. 

You’d told him he didn’t need to work this hard to impress you, you were already interested in him. But he informed you he enjoyed spoiling you. 

So who were you to argue? 

“The night is still young.” His eyes twinkled in the moonlight. “And my apartment is just a few blocks from here.”

“How convenient.” You smirked at him. “You might get to see the gift I got for you then.” 

He stopped in his tracks and looked down at you, eyes wide. 

“You got me a gift?” 

“Uh huh.” You laughed, snaking your arms around his neck. “It’s purple and lacy and leaves very little to the imagination.” 

“Fuck.” He hissed, pressing his body against yours so you could feel just what your words had done to him. 

He cupped your face and drew your lips to his for a kiss much too heated for the public setting. 

“Someone’s eager.” You whispered against his lips. 

“Always. You drive me wild woman.” 

You giggled again as he deepened the kiss, holding your face in his large hands. 

A soft moan left your mouth and he captured it with his own. 

You would have let him take you there and then, not caring about public indecency or anything of the sort. Spencer had that effect on you. 

As his hands started to trail down from your face, down your arms to grip your hips, a voice startled you away from one another. 

“Reid? Y/L/N?” 

You sprung apart instantly, hearts racing as you glanced in the direction of the voice. 

Alex Blake stood a little down the path, hand in hand with whom you assumed to be her husband James. 

You looked at the floor guiltily and thought it was better for Spencer to deal with this one. 

“Uh…hi Alex.” He scratched the back of his neck. “You must be James.” 

James offered him a small wave, looking a little confused as his eyes flitted between his wife and Spencer. 

“James, this is my Unit Chief Spencer Reid. And Y/N Y/L/N.” Alex let go of James’ hand and stepped a little closer to the two of you. 

“Please don’t tell anyone.” You blurted out as she came closer. 

She had a stern look on her face like a mother about to scold her children. 

“How long has this been going on?” 

“We met before we knew we’d be working together. I didn’t know she would be on my team when we met.” Spencer sighed a little. 

“We tried to end it.” You spoke up. “When we realised he was my boss. But we just kept ending up together.” 

Alex looked between the two of you a few times while you wished the ground would open up and swallow you whole.

At the very least, she hadn’t caught you in such a compromising position as Rossi had. That was something you supposed. 

“I’m almost impressed you managed to hide it so well. I had no idea.” She shook her head with a small smile. 

“That was kind of the idea. Hiding this from profilers hasn’t been easy.” Spencer shrugged. 

“As long as this doesn’t affect the team, I have no reason to tell them. But if it does start to affect us…” Alex trailed off. 

“We understand.” You nodded. “Thank you Alex.” 

She looked between the two of you one last time before you waved her and James goodbye. You and Spencer continued in one direction while they continued in the other. 

Once you were out of the park, Spencer threaded his fingers through yours once more and brought your hand up to his lips to kiss it. 

“So that’s two people who know.” He sighed a little. 

“Are there rules against this? I know it’s frowned upon but could we get into trouble?” You looked at him out of the corner of your eye. 

“Yes.” He sighed again. “Superiors aren’t allowed to fraternise with members of their team. The FBI is very strict on it. If we were both SSA’s it wouldn’t be a problem.” 

“Maybe we should end this before more people find out. I can’t lose my job, Spencer. And I don’t want you to either.” You chewed on your lip and once again Spencer pulled you to a stop.

His expression was very serious as he looked down at you. 

“Is that what you want? Do you want to end things?” He kept hold of your hand but it felt a little like it was shaking. 

“No, not at all. But I just think that-“

He silenced you with a kiss and like always you melted into him. 

He let go of your hand so he could wrap you in his arms while he kissed you. It wasn’t as heated as earlier, but it was certainly passionate. 

When it ended, he stroked the side of your face and looked down at you with large, slightly sad eyes. 

“I can’t lose you.” He confessed. “I’m in too deep Y/N. I know it’s dangerous and risky but to me it’s worth it. You’re worth it to me.” 

Your heart soared at his words and the way his feelings for you seemed to pour from his eyes. 

You’d never felt like this about someone before. And you were sure no one had ever felt for you the things Spencer clearly did. 

“You’re worth it to me.” You repeated his words with a smile. “You’re more than worth it, Spence.” 

His face broke out in the largest smile and he kissed you again, harder than before. 

If you got caught it would be worth it. The BAU had been your dream for so many years but now you had a new dream. 

And his name was Spencer Reid. 

Taglist

All ships & genres

@muffin-cup @andiebeaword @measure-in-pain @takeyourleap-of-faith @dirtytissuebox @smurphyse @ssa-uglywhore27 @reidselle @reidsbookclub

SR x reader

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#spencer reid #spencer reid smut #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid self insert #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x y/n #criminal minds smut #criminal minds self insert #criminal minds

[crplpunkklavier]

10 WAYS TO INCREASE YOUR OUTPUT

(also on vocal)

I write a lot. I try to write every day, which doesn’t always work out, but it does most days! As such, people often ask me how I do it. People often stop me in the street and ask, “Hysteria, how do you do it? We know you work part-time while studying in a field that is widely considered one of the most demanding in your country, and yet we see you banging out pieces several times a month! And they’re all so good!” they cry. “All of your words fuck severely! How do you make them come out?”

And to those people I always say, “I don’t make the words do anything! They want to come out all on their own. These words, they are inside me, and I am merely the vessel, and I turn on the faucet, and there they go. Why, keeping them in would be more difficult than letting them out!”

This, of course, is incorrect. It is a lie I tell them so they will leave me alone. The more time I waste explaining my process to these people, the less time I have for writing. Instead, I follow a short, comprehensive set of rules that I have decided, in my mercy, to share with you all today.

ONE. ACCEPT THAT YOU WILL FAIL YOUR CLASSES

It’s okay. It’s okay. You’ve got time. You want to write now, and if the words want out, you should let them out. Fail your classes. Who cares? You can take them again next semester. Right? If you can’t, god help you. You probably can, though. It’s all going to be fine. If the mood strikes, you need to write, that’s the rule with art. It’s always good when art has rules. Your muse just kissed you, dude, you can’t be studying. You’re going to fail your classes, but it’s going to be worth it. When you’re old and dying, what do you think you’ll regret more? Not getting your degree, or not writing that thing? Got you there, didn’t I?

2) ACCEPT THAT YOU WILL LOSE YOUR JOB

I know that’s hard. I know you think I’m joking. But seriously, it’s okay. If your job can’t deal with you spending every waking minute writing, it’s not the right job for you. And if you just keep writing enough, if you just keep publishing and uploading and promoting your work, you won’t even need a job! So whatever, if they fire you now, they’ll see your name in the papers soon. As one of the authors, I mean. Not because you did anything ill-advised. You don’t need that job! You don’t need them! You don’t need anybody. You just need a piece of paper and a pen. What are you, a capitalist? No job can be more important than your art! It’s your art, man! Why are you caring about anything else? Traitor.

FOCUS ON YOUR JOB

Hey. Don’t get fired. Come on, man. It’s gonna be okay, you can figure out a personal schedule or something. Set aside a time in your day for writing, and get your writing done then, so you can have the rest of your day to focus on your job. If you’re too stressed out about making rent, you’re not going to be writing, or at least you won’t be writing well. In fact, maybe just… wait. Maybe just wait a bit. Until you’re financially stable, you know? Maybe just don’t do anything until you feel financially stable. Just focus. You need to just focus on that job. Keep focusing. You’ll remember what art is later. Later, you know? When you have money. You can write when you have money.

FOCUS ON YOUR CLASSES

Just… Just stay in school. Just stay. Just stay in school. We’ll figure the rest out.

STOP TALKING TO YOUR FRIENDS

IF THEY LOVED YOU, THEY’D UNDERSTAND.

STOP TALKING TO YOUR FAMILY

IT’S FOR ART!!!

STOP GOING OUTSIDE

What are you doing outside? Walking? Are you taking walks? Are you enjoying your little walks? Go back inside. You could be writing right now. You should be ashamed of yourself.

GO OUTSIDE EVERY DAY

Make it twenty minutes. Hell, make it ten. You have time for ten minutes, right? Go outside every day for ten minutes. Look around you, breathe in, breathe out. Maybe take a few pictures! When you’re back inside, try to describe the scenery you saw. Try to write about the people you saw, try to make up little lives and character traits for them. It is so important to interact with your outside world. Inspiration doesn’t come from within you, it comes from outside. Keep wandering around until you’re inspired. Any second now. You’re going to be so inspired. Don’t go back inside until you’re inspired. I hope you’re dressed warmly enough. If not, you can write about hypothermia! That’s inspiration right there.

Or just stand on your balcony for one minute each day. That’s outside. That’s gotta help in some way.

WRITE EVERYTHING DOWN

QUICK!! Don’t let anything go to waste. Nothing!! Not a single word. Write down every stupid idea you have. Yes, I mean that! Write down the stupid ones! Write down the good ones too, obviously. But it is so important that you write down everything. So you can use it later when you need an idea. You need to write as much as you can, every day, so it makes sense that sooner or later you’ll run out of ideas. Well, not with this neat trick! If you just keep writing down every idiotic thought that comes to you, whenever you get stuck, you can simply grab one of those dumb ideas you had and write about that. Remember that! The point of writing down every idea you have is so you can use every idea you have when the time comes. Foolproof.

WRITE NOTHING DOWN

What for? What for? What are you writing anything down for? If it’s good, you’ll remember. If it’s good, it’ll come back to you. All those people making haha funny posts about how You Know You’re A Writer when you have several different journals for different moods or whatever? Posers. Losers. Pathetic. If it’s a good idea, you don’t need to write it down. If you forget it and it never comes back to you, then it wasn’t good. If you forget all of your ideas, that means they were all bad. Writing them down wouldn’t have made them any better. You just have bad ideas.

KEEP YOUR SPACE CLEAN

This is an easy one. I know nobody wants to hear it, but we all know it. You can’t focus if you live in a dumpster. Clean up your space, then you can write. Clean it up first. Clean it up before you ever sit down to write. You won’t write a single word unless your space is clean. Make a list of all the things you need to clean before you can write. The desk at the very least, you should probably sweep the floors too. Do they need to be mopped? Mop the floors. Get the kitchen clean, so you know you can get a healthy snack once you’re done writing. You should clean the bathroom, too. Check the internet to see if there’s any cheap furniture available to help you organize your shoes. What were we doing?

CHAOS

Whatever actually nobody needs order and all those super organized “artists” are lying to themselves and to you art is fundamentally chaotic art shouldn’t have any rules and if you hold onto any rules for your art you are a poser look at this lol it doesnt even have any punctuation anymore and i just left out the apostrophe in doesnt AND i didnt capitalize my i WOOOO CHECK THIS OUT you should live in chaos. You should live in chaos. Are you an artist or a CEO? You need chaos. depression even. your apartment needs to look bad, or else everything you write is shallow and unrelatable

MONETIZE NOTHING

Nothing will suck the soul out of an artist as quickly as monetization. You don’t want to write for money. Believe me. Writing for money is never the answer. You write for yourself. Sometimes, maybe, you’ll write for your readers, but mostly you write for yourself. You should write for yourself. And writing for yourself means never getting anything in return. And it means never asking for anything in return. Art should be free, and that means artists shouldn’t be paid. Wait. What? No, that’s… I guess that makes sense. You should never ask for money for your art, because that would mean you are making people pay for your art, and that’s not right. I think. Well, but if you start writing for money, then you’ll have to start writing what the paying audience wants to read, and that’s going to be bad. So just don’t do it. Don’t ever do it. We cannot become sellouts. We need to be depressed and poor or our art will suck. It’s unfortunate, but it’s the truth!

MONETIZE EVERYTHING

Sorry, that was bullshit. I’ve changed my mind. You should be paid for your art. I should be paid for my art. It’s so important to feed artists while they’re alive. Monetize your writing! Monetize everything you ever write. Set up a Patreon. Only upload new chapters of your gay fanfiction to AO3 if you’ve reached a certain number of subscribers on Patreon. That’s gonna get people paying for sure. Never do anything without monetary incentive anymore. If your writing was good enough, people would be throwing money at you left and right! And your writing is good. Your writing is fucking fantastic, and people should be throwing money at you. Art is well and good, but you’ve gotta make a living here. If you can’t, then it’s not worth it. The point of art is to make money. Never do anything for free.

WRITE ABOUT WHAT YOU LOVE

I mean, it’s the least you can do. Especially if you’re going to write for money. It’s the only way not to hate yourself, or your art. Write about what you love. Pick topics you like, make characters you like. Write about things that are important to you. Don’t ever write about something you don’t care deeply for. If you don’t personally like a character, throw them out of the narrative. Don’t even kill them. Just retcon them out. I’m talking about passion here, you need passion. If you aren’t one hundred percent on board with every little detail in your writing, don’t even bother. You’re gonna hate it, everyone’s gonna hate it, and you won’t be true to yourself. Write about the same thing every time. You still love it, right? Then keep writing about it. That way, writing will be easy, and the words will flow out, just like they do for me. If you ever have to think about your stance on something you might write about, it’s not even worth the effort.

STOP CARING SO MUCH ABOUT YOUR WRITING

you could just stop

#the fact that vocal let me publish this under 'lifehack' is beyond hysterical to me #if you decide to click the readmore heads up that this is 1.8k words #mine

[cockatrice-writers-guild]

R(I)P

intro to the ride or die universe of jax and mia. technically the ogverse but yee hope you like it!

warnings: panic, swearing

It was a normal day.

It was.

But now I’m running.

Running as fast as my legs can carry me even though I know it’s futile.

Watching as scenery passes in a blur as my legs hit the ground, as I dodge passed abandoned cars and hope to God I don’t trip, my eyes scanning my environment for any sort of escape, hiding place, just…anything that could hide from me from that-

“Ooooooooohhhhh Emeeeeeeeeliaaaaaaaa.”

The call that travels over the city is almost playful, vibrating the ground under me and making me want to cover my ears from the sheer volume.

But I can’t right now.

Another tremor shakes the earth with enough force to temporarily send me sprawling to the ground but I quickly get up and keep moving. No time to check for injuries right now, my eyes instead scanning the nearby buildings lining the weirdly wide abandoned street I’m running down but...

It’s futile.

I know it’s futile.

Because he’s already here.

A man.

A man who towers high over the whole city.

Who blocks out the sun and whose shadow stretches on for what seems like miles.

And, as I turn back to look even though I know I shouldn’t, a man who’s icy grey eyes are already locked on my sprinting form far far below him.

He’s miles away but one single step is all it takes on his part to reunite us again and I bite back a yelp as a polished shoe longer than a city block slams into the asphalt just a few meters away, knocking me over once more and leaving a deep crater in the earth.

Dust rains from the sky as the man and I lock gazes once more.

And then he smiles.

“There you are, bug.”

And the word makes me shudder.

The man’s voice is loud. Loud enough to echo across the eerily quiet city. His expression sends a chill down my spine and before I know it, I’m scrambling away on all fours like a fucking crab as the man just watches in amusement. Doesn’t even try to reach for me as I move.

He’s clearly toying with me but still I eventually get my feet under me and pick myself up again, up and into an alleyway nearby, dodging overflowing dumpsters and doing my best to navigate the tight maze between the buildings until I find a place closed in on all sides, tall buildings shielding me from the man’s gaze.

There’s no way he can follow me here, right? It’s too small. Too confusing. There’s just no way.

…and I know I’m stalling but I need this. To defy my fate in the face of inevitability for at least a second longer before what little control I have of the situation is ripped from me too. It’s stupid but…still I press my back to the nearest wall, silently soaking in the fact that at least I couldn’t see him anymore.

It’s inevitable but…

I stare at the wall in front of me, smell the mostly overflowing dumpster close by as I take a deep breath, hold it and then slowly let it out, trying again and again to calm myself down.

The silence in the air is fucking suffocating and my coiled up nerves are stiff with the prolonged tension and it’s too much and it’s too much and

I try to focus on what’s here.

The crinkle of paper under my shoe

the slight breeze that squeezes through the opening I came through, washing over me steadily

the tension in my legs from sprinting and the bruises from the fall and the wall against my back as I press myself further into it, just breathing and waiting and breathing and waiting and…

the moment slowly brings with it an almost…calm.

It’s been too long for this to just be a ruse, right?

After a few uneventful minutes, my shoulders finally start to relax in the quiet. …maybe I…actually managed to shake that monster. Maybe somehow the giant got bored and actually left. …maybe I…I start looking for a way out of this mess, my heartrate slowly starting to lose momentum as I take stock of my surroundings and I’m maybe starting to think that I can climb into a nearby window and see if I can sneak out that way or just stay hidden and that maybe I’ll live another day and maybe I would be okay somehow and I’d just have to wait a little longer before going out to check and

And it turns out I was right.

The giant did get bored.

Because finally, he gets tired of waiting.

And I feel my blood freeze when inconceivably large digits finally snake down from the fucking heavens

and

with a noise that shakes the fucking world, my bones, everything,

the building in front of me is ripped clean from its foundations.

And I’m left staring as the massive man handles it like it’s nothing more than a highly detailed, ridiculously small model replica, pinching it between two of his fingers as he watches me quietly for a moment.

Debris rains down on me as I stare, fucking powerlessly up at the man and…

(…and I’m suddenly glad that…everyone evacuated the city for…some reason before all this? …how’s that sound?)

He spins the entire goddamn skyscraper between two of his fingers for a moment like it’s a fucking toy before setting it off to the side with a disproportional amount of care and leaning forward slightly to loom over me

and…

my back is still pressed to a wall

…I…I’m trapped.

The buildings that were supposed to protect me are now caging me in and the man now standing before me is blocking the newly made exit, my brief spit on the face of inevitability already coming back to bite me in the ass.

And it’s futile.

This is just it.

I’ve gone and run myself into a dead end.

And now I’m fucked.

I am so so fucked.

“Like fish in a goddamn barrel,” the giant practically purrs.

He crouches then and the very air seems to flee to get out of his way and my breath catches in my throat as the movement alone whips my jacket back and that already huge face gets fucking closer and I start to tremble like nothing else.

Because this man, this impossibly huge man, is one Jaxon Baxtor.

You see, I may or may not owe some…very important people a…certain sum of money.

And Jaxon here is…let’s just say a collector.

He grins as he watches me shrink under his heavy gaze and I

am I going to die?

“Now you’ve gone and gotten yourself cornered, ant. Sooooo, what now?”

He tilts his head with false concern but once it’s clear I’m not going to say anything, the man just laughs with a small shake of his head.

“You know why I’m here, right? You owe money, dear,” the giant says plainly. “And my client is getting a little…impatient so…here we both are. So now I have to ask…where would you say that money is?” The tone is sweet but it strangles the air, seeming to lower the temperature by the sheer ice in his words.

“…I…,” my heart is hammering in my chest, “I don’t have it.”

“You don’t?” The soft whisper passes through the atmosphere as the man cocks his head, once again feigning confusion.

I grit my teeth and slowly shake my head.

“…ah.”

And there it is.

I can’t do anything but stare up in fear as the giant’s features morph into something much more sinister.

“Well, we have a problem then, don’t we dear?”

And then it happens too fast.

The giant makes a move.

Fast. Far too fast.

(…I…I wasn’t ready)

His hand slams into the ground near me, around me, narrowly missing me with his building sized fingers and the sheer force of it launches me for a moment and

I’m trapped

(I’m trapped?)

between the massive man’s fingers. Walled in, flesh that rises high on both sides surrounds me and…and there’s…

No way out.

(…no way out. …I…my breathing’s too fast. …this…this isn’t…)

“I’m afraid that’s not the answer I was looking for.” The giant’s voice booms far

(so so far)

overhead and my eyes are starting to glaze over as the man

snarls down at me.

And the words shake me to my fucking core and

And now I’m scared.

(he almost…he almost…he…please…don’t…don’t hurt me. Please don’t hurt me)

And with another impossibly fast move on his end, the walls all around me close in and I’m trapped and I’m in the air and the warmth emitting from the digits is nothing short of suffocating and the world soars past me in a blur that stings my eyes and now I’m looking into one his massive eyes and he’s

(he’s…saying something. And it’s…it’s too loud. It’s everywhere at once and traveling through the air and through his fingers and through me and it’s getting hard to breathe and my heart hammers and hammers and hammers as the man speaks and I…I didn’t think it would be this bad but…)

The air and the walls and the whole world starts moving and now

Now there’s nothing holding me in place.

I’m hanging freely in the air, dangling helplessly between massive claws and the sight of the pavement

(the tiled floor)

far, so so far below is…

I…I…

(Please, I…I don’t want to die. …please don’t…)

It’s blurry. The view of the floor is blurry and now a heave wreaks through my body once, twice, three times and the movement causes me to swing slightly and my head hurts and and and

(no no no! It’s not real. It’s not. Calm down! Calm down! Calm-)

A tear

Finally breaks through the surface tension and slowly slides down my cheek and falls to the floor thousands of feet below and

And just like that everything stops.

The city is a Lego model carefully put together.

The floor is clean tiles.

And the giant collector dangling me over certain death is

…my friend.

And now I watch as he pulls away

As his carefully crafted mask falls and shatters into a million pieces, leaving behind only despair and realization as he stares at me. I’m lowered. My feet find purchase on the wooden surface of Jax’s coffee table and the man slowly lowers himself to sit in front of it, towering high over me even then.

Grey eyes watch me in concern as I collapse on the table, heaves shaking my body one after another and it’s hard to stop crying now that I’ve started and

Jax won’t hurt me. He won’t. Ever. He was just acting. Just pretending. So…why? Why am I reacting like this?

There’s tears in Jax’s eyes now too and though I struggle to meet his gaze, it still pains me to see.

“I’m sorry, Mia.” His voice is too quiet now. And horribly genuine. A far cry from the voice that shook the sky just moments before. It’s now laced with tears as he speaks. “I…I wasn’t thinking and I just…,” he’s hugging himself now. Avoiding my gaze. “…are you alright?”

It takes a moment to get my breathing back under control. To get my bearings. The man dangling me high over an abyss now sitting before me with his legs pulled up to his chest, tears large enough to drown in already trailing down his face as he finally turns to look at me again.

Jax.

It’s him.

I choke back another sob and try to nod but

the slam

the view of his hand descending towards me…blotting out everything else…the wind…the force…I

I look away.

“I’m sorry.” He’s whispering now. “I should have realized sooner. I…I shouldn’t have said those things, Mia. I…you’re not a bug to me. You…you know that, right? You’re a person and…I…I don’t want to do this anymore and I'm sorry, Mia. I am so so sorry and I just-”

He’s rambling now, panicking by the looks of it and the sight of his distraught expression as his words wash over me stings. I want to tell him it’s okay. That it’s not his fault but…for just a second my voice won’t work.

Because Jax is fucking huge.

…and I guess I already knew that. Giant with a birth defect that makes him way too big and blah blah blah but…seeing it in this context? Feeling it? …it was so close…

too close

and now I’m scared of my friend.

Scared for my life.

My brain is clouded with fear and I want to comfort him but my body has different ideas.

I take a deep breath, moving to hug my trembling arms to myself before closing my eyes.

I…don’t think I can look at him right now.

…I don’t think I should be here right now either.

“…Jax?”

The man stops talking in an instant, silence hanging in the air for a moment before he responds.

“…Mia?”

I squeeze my hands as the voice booms over me.

“I…I want to go home. Please.”

Another pause.

I wait.

And then

“…okay.”

-

It’s been days.

Jax hasn’t shown up to the set in fucking days.

He hasn’t been answering my messages, or anyone’s messages for that matter.

And now I’m at his ridiculously huge front door once more.

And I’m mad.

Furious, actually.

I ring the doorbell at human height and take a step back when I can feel his footsteps approach, the final one launching me for a moment before the door slowly pulls over and reveals the form of the man so big it looks like he stretches into the sky.

And he looks like a fucking mess.

He tilts his head down and when his massive irises land on me once more, I can’t help but flinch.

But then in almost the blink of an eye, the man shrinks down and down and down until he’s only a head taller than me.

His discomfort from shrinking shows up on his face for a moment but he swaps it with a more neutral expression quickly.

And now I take the time to look him over.

He’s in a fucking bathrobe. He hasn’t shaved his face since the last time I saw him by the looks of it. He’s tired. Struggles to hold my gaze. There’s fucking tear tracks down the side of his face and

The concern in me mixes horribly with the anger bubbling up again and with a huff of annoyance I push past him and let myself into his house.

“You…shouldn’t be here,” the man tries behind me, his voice hoarse. Probably from disuse or fucking crying for goddamn days on end and I want to pull him into a hug in the same moment I want to punch the stupid frown off his face.

I spin to look at him. “Jax, shut the hell up. And get. In. Here.”

His eyes widen for a moment but he complies all the same, following behind me quietly and pissing me the hell off.

I stop once I’m inside and turn to him.

“Jax.”

“…Mia?”

“Grow. Now.”

His eyes widen as he takes a step back. “…what?”

“You said shrinking fucking hurts you right? Then grow.”

“…well, it’s more of a discomfort but-”

“Grow.”

“…I don’t-”

“SOMEONE HAS TO CLOSE THE GODDAMN DOOR AND IT SURE AS HELL ISN’T GOING TO BE ME!”

Jax’s frown grows deeper for a second. “I…okay. …but…could you look away? I…I don’t want you to see me like-”

“Like what, Jax? Your normal fucking size? Are you fucking kidding me?”

Jax just looks down, wringing his hands but saying nothing.

“Close the door,” I say, my anger quelling just slightly as I take him. “Please.”

“I-,” his voice is heavy with tears again as speaks. “…I don’t want to hurt you.”

My heart pangs when I hear that. This really was all my fucking fault and the guilt of it only infuriates me further.

“I’m not made of fucking glass, man.” I try to make the words bite but they fall through. I frown before moving towards him, placing a hand on his cheek and wiping away at the tears that are already starting to form. “I was just…you scared me pretty bad then, you know?”

Jax leans into the touch for a moment, nodding slightly but saying nothing.

“Now grow. Please? I…I don’t want to see you like this.”

“…what do you mean?”

“I…I want to see you.”

I don’t entirely know what I mean by that but still, after a few seconds Jax finally looks up, tear filled eyes moving to meet my gaze.

“…me?” The word is practically whispered.

And I nod.

There’s a small pause as Jax takes in my words, a complex range of emotions crossing his features before he reaches out, arms slowly wrapping around me and pulling me closer, burying his face into my neck for just a moment.

And then he grows.

My feet quickly leave the ground as I’m pinned to the chest in front of me, the arms wrapped around my back expanding and soon I can more feel Jax than see him, the warmth coming from him radiating all around me as the view of his stupid bathrobe eclipses my vision.

Soon the wall of his arm behind me moves, carefully nudging me into a still growing hand so I won’t fall and I look up to see his gaze locked on me, his expression full of concern. I offer him a small smile even as my heartrate spikes and he hesitantly smiles back.

And once he finally stops we take a moment to just…take each other in.

Jax shifts his hand and his smile widens slightly when the small twitch completely bowls me over.

“…sorry,” he whispers, the sound of it carrying effortlessly through the air. He waits for me to right myself before going to close the door with a soft click and looking down at me expectedly.

“…couch?”

He nods before making his way forward and it takes a moment to get used to the constant tremors that travel through him every time he moves but the warmth radiating from him is familiar and I try hard to not let it get to me.

Though my heart still jolts with every step.

Once he gets to the couch, he crouches slowly, lowering his hand until it lies flat on the couch and I stand up and make my way over to the edge of his palm, the give and lines etched on the flesh under me making me trip several time but if Jax finds this funny, he doesn’t say anything, which I both appreciate and find worrying.

The drop from the edge of his palm to the couch is akin to jumping off a building but the couch cushions my fall and once I brush myself off and take a seat, Jax slowly moves his hand away and takes a seat on the floor in front of me, the action alone nearly deafening and I curl my hands into fists to stop myself from shaking. Even sitting on the floor, he still has to tilt his head down to meet my eyes.

Jax leans back a bit, his face still taking up all of my vision but making it slightly easier to comprehend.

“…better?”

“Again, not made of glass.”

“I know,” Jax whispers back. “But…,” he looks away for a second, “…I don’t want to make my friend cry again.”

I feel another pang of guilt at that.

And with it, another pang of anger.

These RPs were supposed to help him gain more confidence in acting like a villain for his part in the movie.

But instead I’d accidentally destroyed it completely.

I suck in a slow breath to calm myself down. “…look, I’m…I’m sorry about all this, okay? This wasn’t supposed to happen and it’s my fault. I should have known I wouldn’t have been able to handle your acting yet since I was still getting used to your size and well…when you slammed your hand down like that I just…I don’t know, man. I…I thought I was going to die. I thought I was going to become a tiny red stain on a goddamn Lego playset and I just-”

“No.”

It sounds off with him whispering but still I look up to meet his gaze.

“It’s my fault, Mia. I…got carried away and I wanted to show you this thing I learned from a video and I just…I didn’t even consider that you might take it that way. I should have taken that into account or even just asked you about it first and I just…seeing you look at me like that made me feel…I don’t know…dangerous? Like I was something that shouldn’t be interacting with normal people, you know? I…I feel like a monster.”

“A monster in a bathrobe.”

This gets a snort out of him and the sheer volume of it makes me flitch for a moment but…that’s him. His eyes widen in the silence that follows and he clamps a hand over his mouth.

“…sorry,” he whispers again and I sigh.

“Not glass.”

“I know.”

“I won’t shatter if you talk to me at a normal fucking volume.”

There’s a pause as he looks me over for a moment.

“…is this better?”

He’s muttering now. It’s barely an improvement.

“No.”

He frowns but doesn’t say anything more.

“And you’re not dangerous.”

“I am.”

“And you’re not a monster.”

“I am.”

“Okay, edgelord.”

The corner of his lip twitches but he says nothing.

“And once you found out how oh so dangerous you were, you couldn’t possibly resist the horrible temptation of using your newly discovered strength to…what was it again? …oh yeah, literally become a sad hermit forever. Fucking terrifying, man. I’m shaking in my goddamn boots.”

A small chuckle vibrates through my bones and I smile.

There’s a small pause before he speaks again, his voice lowering to a whisper once more as his expression turns solemn.

“…you are shaking though.”

Shit.

“…that’s just nerves, man. It’s…don’t worry about-”

“Do you want to go home?”

“No.”

The man stares for a moment longer before he just nods slightly.

…

…

“…Jax?”

“…Mia?”

“Look…I just…I don’t think it was really either of our faults here. We should have talked about it more beforehand, you know? I could have told you I was still a bit,” I move to point at him when I see his expression start to fall, “a BIT, apprehensive of your size and you could have told me about the…actually how was that move supposed to work?”

“Hmm?”

“The uh…slam.”

“…oh. …well, it went perfectly actually.”

“Really?”

He nods. “It’s a classic fake out, you see. Like well…you’re supposed to spread your fingers really wide…like this-”, he spreads out the fingers of one of his hands, holding it back so I can see what he’s doing. “And then you move it over the other actor like so-,” he slowly moves his hand over me before he stops, staring at me for a moment before moving it so it’s some distance away instead. “Then…well, you slam it.”

Instead of doing this however, he instead gently places his hand down on the couch next to me, rotating it so I could see the tips of his fingers. “The other actor will end up between your fingers by this point. Palm placement is important but once you have that down, it’s basically guaranteed safety.”

He cringes a bit at that before he continues.

“And the moment your hand connects with the surface, you need to close your fingers quickly, leaving as little room as possible so it looks like you just missed them. The camera angle is really important here too so the audience won’t see the trick and…,” he stops suddenly before his eyes glance over me again. “…and I am so so sorry.”

I try to smile up at him. “Nono it’s okay, big guy. …though maybe tell me before you pull a stunt like that next time?”

He pulls away suddenly. “Next time? But…Mia, I-”

I wave him off. “It’s okay, man. Just let me know. …that is if you still even want to train for that role.”

Jax nods until the last statement, his eyes widening in surprise. “I…thought I was already fired.”

I shake my head. “If you still want it then it’s still yours. The director is…very adamant about the villain being you and only you.”

He cringes at this. “…ah. Yeah well…”

“You don’t have to put up with it, you know.”

He just lets out a long sigh, looking at the floor for a moment before he meets my gaze once more.

“…it’s a pretty big deal though. If I just get through this then…it could jumpstart my whole career.”

I nod at this and he frowns again, mulling it over.

“…but my reputation might suffer for it.”

“Well, no one on set thinks you’re a monster, if that helps.”

He smiles at that. “…that jackass who harassed you probably does.”

“Well, I mean yeah but fuck him.”

Jax’s smile grows wider as he leans in closer and I can tell he wants to hug me so I hold my arms open in invitation.

“You sure?”

I nod and about half a second later, he crashes into me with enough force to absolutely send me flying.

“SORRY!” His surprised exclamation shatters the world as I soar, travelling through the air for a short moment before I finally skid to a stop a short distance away and land face first in the soft material below me. I finally pick myself up and brush myself off, turning to the man to see the smile on his face once he sees that I’m okay, his whole body starting to shake with silent laughter and his grey eyes bright as he watches me and…it’s just nice to see him like this again.

I gesture for him and, once he calms himself down, he approaches again slowly, stopping the moment the tip of his nose just brushes against me and he leans in with a small sigh when I wrap my arms around as much of his nose as I can. Something presses into me from behind and I lean into him too.

“…thank you,” he whispers.

“…not glass,” I whisper back and he chuckles again.

“Thank you,” he says at a normal volume, the syllables punching into me as he does, though the smile in his voice is obvious. “Are you happy now, M?”

I rub my face against him and he tries his best to return the sentiment. “I am.”

-

Once Jax got out of the bathroom, showered and changed and in his pajamas which was…literally just pants, he said he was probably going to bed soon even though it was still early afternoon. And then purposely changed the subject when I asked him when the last time he even slept was, instead asking if I wanted to join him so we could keep talking or if I just wanted to go home.

So now I find myself sitting on one of Jax’s massive pillows, the man himself lying on the pillow next to me and he smiles when my eyes meet his again.

“Thanks for staying, Mia. I appreciate it. …though, now that I think about it, if I fall asleep you’re probably gonna be stuck here until I wake up.”

“That’s fine.”

“I can…give you a lift to work tomorrow to make up for it?”

“…aren’t you not allowed to walk around at this size?”

“Well, yeah but…I have a car, M.”

Oh yeah.

“Oh…right. …wait, I have a car too though. Like how do you think I got here?”

“…oh yeah.”

…

“Wait, shit I forgot to bring your car inside.”

“I mean…it’s not like there’s going to be anyone all the way out here to steal it.”

“…true.”

…

Jax shuffles a bit, bringing his face closer to me.

“Still…I’m glad you came, M. I…well…I missed you a lot.”

“It’s been, what, like a week? Desperate.”

“Hey!”

He sits up abruptly, shuffling closer before carefully laying down again, pushing me into the pillow with his nose and effectively trapping me. I wrap my arms around what I can of him and he lets out a small sigh, pushing against me slightly as a laugh rumbles through him.

I press my cheek to him. “You’re a dick, you know that? …but I missed you too, big guy. I…honestly I was so worried about you like…you weren’t answering my calls or messages and I thought…well…I thought you were…gone.”

There’s a pause on his end.

“…I’m sorry.”

“Don’t apologize.”

“Okay.”

…

…

“…I was just looking into online jobs and well…distancing myself I guess. I just…didn’t want to be around anyone after…that. I…didn’t think it would be safe anymore.”

“…I’m sorry.”

“Don’t apologize.”

We both laugh at that.

…

…

…

“But yeah, I…I feel…I feel okay. Not bad…not…not particularly good but…yeah. I’ll…I’ll be…okay.”

I lean into him and he leans back. “That’s good to hear then.”

“…and…Mia?”

“Yeah?”

“…I…I’m glad that…I’m glad you came to…to check on…”

His words trail off and his nose moves slightly as if he’s trying to nuzzle me again. I can’t help but smile.

“Jax?”

“…hmm?”

“Are you falling asleep?”

“…mmm.”

“Good night then, big guy.”

“…night, M.”

#writeblr #original writing #original story #hurt/comfort #Jax and Mia #ride or die verse #ocs #the rooster crows #wrote this a few weeks ago when i was feeling eh about posting but i think i'm comfortable again so yes #thanks for reading!

[unusualbill]

Nothing For Us - Chapter 3

Warnings: Blood, self harm, skin picking

Roman stretched out in the backseat absentmindedly picking at his cuticles, and praying his splitting headache would go away. Forcing himself to focus on the passing scenery, he hadn’t even noticed he was shredding his skin raw.

"I think there's crackers in the glovebox," Peter said, eyeing Roman from the rearview mirror and pretending he didn’t see him wipe blood on the velour seats.

"Huh?"

"If you're carsick, you should try to eat a little something, it'll help settle your stomach." Peter turned his attention back to the road, attempting to see past the fog that had settled in "God, I sound like my mom."

Roman turned on his side, propping his shoulder against the door and using his coat as a pillow. He let out a breath that could almost be interpreted as some sort of pitiful laugh. He was not in the mood to think about family, and certainly not in the mood to be reminded that some parents actually love their children.

Peter turned on the radio to fill the silence. The garbled sound of some generic pop song from years ago drifted from the speakers, occasionally punctuated by pure static. He fiddled with the knob, trying to find a station that came in clear. Having no such luck, he switched to the car’s cassette player.

Roman made a sour face as a cheesy love song from the 1980s began to play. He could practically smell the hairspray emanating from the band’s lead singer.

"What the fuck are we listening to?" He asked unsuccessfully attempting to ignore the song’s flagrant use of the word ‘lovers’.

"Some mixtape Lynda had once, it's been stuck in the player for as long as I can remember.”

"Are all the songs like this? All lovey-dovey and shit?" 

"Pretty much, it was from an ex-boyfriend of hers I think. Real corny shit."

"Gross."

Roman shifted positions, now laying on his back and resting his hands on his stomach. Though he had just fed, the gnawing pain in his gut has returned. The pain was dull for now, but he knew it wouldn’t last for long. The hunger was inevitable. He closed his eyes, listening as one song faded into another, trying his hardest not to think. The warm air from the heater and the feeling of cracked asphalt under the tires was almost enough to put him to sleep.

"What's our next stop?" He asked

Peter stayed silent, staring at the hills in the distance. He hadn’t planned much in terms of destination, he had barely planned on taking Roman with him. He left his fate up to the wind a long time ago.

"Whatever's at the end of this road, I guess. The destination doesn't matter." 

Roman opened his eyes only to roll them. "Yeah yeah yeah, it's about the journey and all that shit. When are we stopping the fucking car? I gotta piss."

"Oh," Peter said, ashamed about how profound he had gotten "There's a gas station in a couple of miles, the tank is getting low anyway."

Roman exited the small gas station restroom to find his companion standing in front of the drink display.

“Welcome back,” Peter said, eyeing a can of cheap beer. “Your fly is down.”

“Shit,” Roman glanced down, zipping his jeans “Why the hell were you looking anyway?”

Peter ignored him, shoving two cans of beer in his jacket.

"The fuck are you doing, man?"

Peter glared at him and nodded his head towards the cashier, who didn't seem to be paying much attention. “Keep your voice down.”

Roman rolled his eyes.

"Man, at least get the good shit." He reached past Peter, grabbing a full case of slightly more expensive beer.

"You have a good fake?" Peter asked, his tone hushed.

Roman smirked, looking at the old man behind the counter, who seemed much more interested in the crossword puzzle from last week's paper. In fact, Roman wasn't sure if he had noticed the boys come in at all. 

“Don’t need one.”

Roman sauntered up to the counter, setting the case of beer down along with a twenty-dollar bill. He gestured towards the cigarette display.

"And a pack of Marlboro Reds and some matches," He paused, chewing his lip "Lots of matches."

The cashier peered over his paper, looking the young Godfrey boy up and down.

"You got some ID for me, son?" he asked the obvious 17-year-old.

Roman glanced toward Peter a moment before going completely stone-faced.

"I don't need an ID, I look old enough."

The cashier furrowed his brow before lowering his paper and speaking slowly

"You don't need an ID, you look old enough." 

Peter turned his head away from the cashier, not wishing to be involved. Instead, he focused on the wall, reading the advertisements and trying not to make eye contact with the taxidermied bear head that marked where the restrooms were.

"You'd be happy to sell me the cigarettes."

The cashier nodded, his eyes completely vacant. He retrieved the pack of cigarettes and placed them on the counter, along with several boxes of matches. His movements were slow and stilted, like a human marionette.

"Your total is-"

Roman interrupted him, tapping the twenty on the counter.

"Twenty will be enough."

The cashier took it, placing it in the cash register.

"Twenty will be enough." He repeated.

Roman pocketed the matches and pack of cigarettes and gestured for Peter to grab the case of beer. Peter hesitantly complied, tucking the case under his arm and heading towards the door.

Roman made eye contact with the cashier once more.

"We were never here." 

Handing the case of beer to Roman to set on the floorboard, Peter climbed into the driver’s seat. "You have got to quit doing that."

"Doing what?" Roman wiped away his nosebleed as he got in the passenger’s seat. He stared at the blood smeared on the back of his hand, admiring the color. "We were never there, remember?"

Peter sighed, starting the car

"Fine, whatever. Just please stop doing the freaky roofie eyes shit. I swear your brain is gonna leak out of your fucking nose." 

Roman turned to look out at the window, his thumb brushing absentmindedly under his nose.

The feeling of loose gravel under the car's tires soothed Peter, it felt like home. The low hum of the heater reminded Peter of being a child and laying in the backseat, eyes closed as his grandfather drove over twisted dirt roads, cutting through thick forests. He could almost feel the warmth of the sun as it dappled through the trees.

Sitting at a stoplight, Peter viewed his surroundings. The sky was a muddled gray dashed with clouds that almost seemed fake. A light fog hung in the air like steam clinging to glass, it was unmistakably Autumn.

Peter thought about his answer to Roman's earlier question. He knew deep in his heart that any good road trip's destination was a feeling, a moment, not a physical place. But what moment was he hoping for? He daydreamed about coming clean and telling Roman the truth, but even in his own fantasy, he didn't know what that truth was. All he knew is that people's dreams aren't connected without good reason.

Roman broke the silence with a sudden yell and a fist to Peter's shoulder.

"Punch buggy green! No punch backs!"

Peter rubbed his shoulder, watching as a green Volkswagen beetle turned down the road beside them.

"Hey, no distracting the driver, car rules." 

Roman flashed his famous shit-eating Godfrey grin.

"You're just mad 'cause I said no punch backs."

Turning his attention back to the road, Peter paused a moment before he spoke.

"What the fuck did you call it just then?"

"Punch buggy?" Roman said, wondering if Peter was a little bit stupid "How the fuck have you been everywhere and not played punch buggy?" 

"Oh, I've played it," Peter rubbed his shoulder again, feeling a bruise starting to form "But it's called fucking slug bug, man."

"Whatever man, who cares?" Roman crossed his arms in the same manner as a pouting toddler. "Slug bug sounds stupid anyway, at least punch buggy makes sense. You see a buggy, you punch."

"Right." Peter shifted in his seat, pulling down the car's sun visor and reaching for the radio knob to fill the silence.

Roman wasn't sure what he had done to cause such a reaction, but Peter's silence made him uneasy. He looked down at his lap, picking at the blisters on his fingers. Between the dried blood on his cuticles and the fresh blood pooling on his fingertips, the smell was intoxicating. It made him feel lightheaded and nauseous and blissful all at once, it was almost arousing.

He let out a shaky breath before stopping himself from picking anymore. He stared at his bloody hands, unsure of what to do with them.

He searched the floorboard for a discarded napkin, wiping the blood away.

"Ah, shit!" His wounds burned as he looked down at the napkin, which had previously been used to wipe away french fry grease, and of course, salt.

Peter looked over at Roman, who was now attempting to shake the salt out of his wounds. “Are you okay? What did you do?”

"I, uh, fuck that burns." Roman nearly put his wounds to his mouth but stopped himself short.

Peter pulled off to the shoulder, getting out of the car. Something about stopping abruptly on the highway made Roman’s stomach flip.

Peter shook his head as he popped the trunk "There's a first aid kit in the back, just stay there and don't touch anything." 

Roman nodded, glancing back down at his hands in shame. He usually didn't let himself get that far. He watched as the blood ran down his hands and onto his wrists, paying close attention to every tear in his flesh and every drop of blood. He deserved it, didn’t he? He was a monster, a monster that fed on helplessness and innocence. He deserved to be in pain.

Roman’s thoughts were interrupted when Peter returned with a small metal box and a plastic water bottle. He opened the passenger's side door and instructed Roman to hold out his hands.

Roman complied, holding out bloody open palms. He avoided eye contact as Peter took them into his own, his touch calloused but gentle.

"I can't take you anywhere," He said, shaking his head "Is that salt?"

Roman winced as Peter poured water onto his wounds.

"Grabbed the wrong napkin, I guess."

Once the blood had been washed away, Peter took a closer look at Roman's hands. Once manicured nails now had shredded cuticles, and the damaged first layer of skin was peeling from Roman's fingertips.

Peter frowned, knowing the wounds were self-inflicted.

"Roman-" He started

Roman pulled his hands away, shaking them dry.

"Quit looking at me like that man, that's gay."

Peter elected to ignore that comment, instead reaching for the small box he had placed on the dashboard.

"Gimme your hands again."

"No," Roman said, holding his hands in his lap "Not if you're going to look at me like that." 

A voice in the back of his head told him that maybe that wouldn't be such a bad thing.

Peter raised an eyebrow.

"I just need to bandage them, I'll be quick."

Roman complied with a sigh, holding his hands limp in front of him.

Peter held a clean paper napkin to his companion's first two fingers, squeezing tight. He felt Roman's eyes staring him down as he avoided eye contact.

He raised his head to speak, accidentally meeting Roman's gaze. He couldn't help but notice the look in the upir's Godfrey green eyes. Behind the contempt and annoyance, there was a little softness, a look that could almost turn to a smile.

"You're doing it again."

Peter let go of Roman's hand, letting the bloody napkin drop to the ground below and clearing his throat.

"What bandaid do you want?" He asked, rifling through his makeshift first-aid kit. "Looks like we've got rocket ships or Sesame Street."

Roman cocked a brow

"You're joking, right?"

Peter held out the box so that Roman could view it for himself. Inside the box was a pile of loose bandaids, a handful of cotton balls, and single-use syringes tucked away next to vials of something Roman couldn’t quite make out. 

"Space, or whatever you said, just hurry up."

Once bandaged and back on the road, Roman sat with his arms crossed and his head against the window. The cool glass and bumpy roads soothed Roman as he tried to forget the events of that morning.

He could still see the look on that little girl's face, that smile with far too many teeth.

He could still taste her blood in the back of his throat.

Roman stole a glance at Peter, wondering how much his companion knew, whether or not he saw what a monster Roman truly was.

Peter brushed a lock of hair from his face, focused on the road.

Roman couldn't help but stare, his eyes tracing the silhouette of Peter's face. He brushed his thumb across the bandage on his finger, wondering why anyone would ever willingly care for him.

"Remind me to pick up a pack of hair dealies," Peter said, tucking an unruly lock of hair behind his ear. 

"Hair dealies?" Roman asked with a snort. "You're gonna call me out for saying punch buggy and then turn around and call them hair dealies?"

Peter huffed, searching for a rubber band in the center console, but finding nothing. He reached across Roman’s lap to open the glovebox, but was only met with a pile of napkins and a stack of maps.

Roman dug in his pocket, producing the hair tie he had found in the cafe bathroom.

"Here," He said, practically shoving it at Peter. "Hair tie."

Peter looked at it a moment before taking both hands off the wheel to tie up his hair. The car swerved for a moment, but Peter steadied the wheel with his knees.

"Better?" Roman asked, smiling at the sight of Peter in such a glittery accessory.

"It's a little tight, where did you say you got it again?"

"Don't worry about it."

#bri babbles #nothing for us #hemlock grove #hemlock grove fanfiction #romancek #roman godfrey #peter rumancek #I missed these boys so much

[bldcatlog]

oh god is this cafe always packed or what! I forgot Eid last more than just one day, It's so busy oh lord. It's hard to focus I thiink I'll be going home soon.

Work was also very busy aswell, although it was actually really enjoyable! I think I am just having a really good day. The weather is nice and the music is wonderful. Working with this specific crew at work is actually so fucking fun like god we are so fucking stupid! Although one of the new guys, he kind sucks balls at his job. It takes him way too long to balance a tire but that's okay he's new. But I literally had to step in because what the fuck I want to go on my lunch for at least 30 minutes. Like how are you spending 10-15 minutes per tire balance? Keep in mind it usually takes me and most people around a min/tire for balancing. So I was like dude what the fuck bro let me come in here and get this done so we can enjoy our lunch man. I had the aux at work and gosh we were all listening to white girl pop HAHAA but let me tell you for some reason men just love their white girl music (I am men). Its like 9am and we are dancing to California girls by Katy Perry and grooving even though we got absolutely shitfucked by the scheduling--- 3 cars every 30/mins, only 1 machine the other is broken. LOLOLOL fucking Makoto had to do a 12 tire changeover and it was so funny. The face he had when I told him I wasn't joking fucking killed me. Whenever I'd walk up to him I still fuck with him ab out the "Boy did I catch you slacking off? GET YOUR ASS UP AND WORK BOY!!!" but really I've had such a lovely day and I feel more and more better. One of my coworkers left early because of one of his Eid functions he need to be at -- that where I found out Eid last around 4 days or so? no wonder this cafe is busy! Talking to him actually kills me too LOL, we were joking about me asking him to marry my daughter and joked about how he's the perfect muslim. "I am a hafiz, I did umrah 3 times I donate, I lead prayer and matter fact I actually know the prophet himself." LOLOLOL I think saying you met the prophet sounds like major sin, I'm the one who said that. These dudes at work the amount of sexual gay jokes being said to eachogher makes me feel that they actually want me bad! LOL I am afraid they'll catch me lacking in the change room. Why did one of them ask if I'd fuck a minion. Imagine stroking that thang and it says "baboy?" HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA

This cafe I noticed is very muslim populated and I think that's absolutely lovely. I occasionally eaves drop in their gossip and it's so funny it's really lively in here! everyone looks like they're having fun and I'm happy for them. I'm sipping this iced mocha at the moment after finishing a Ferrero rocker cake slice and I just feel hopeful and alive. I missed this feeling a lot.

I'll probably head home now and finish my work at my desk but I think I'll linger a bit in this environment as it makes me feel good.

I think I'm trying to plan a Banff trip with all the boys I know -- Aaron, Kishan, Josh, Andril, Kyle, Michael I hope I can bring Cole along aswell -- I think he'll need it. I feel like they'll be absolutely durnk one night while I'll have to manage everyone so they don't lose a kidney (oh my lord) but rafting, hiking, food, the scenery -- if they don't go I'll go by myself.

I wonder how I'll feel looking back at all of these entries ? would I feel nostalgic, sad? happy or fond? Who knows really but I'll never find out.

I really like my outfit I have on at the moment. I'm currently wearing a white knitted sweater, cursory pants, Uggs and a bandana and I feel super indie. I think I need to become an indie slut (I AM LYING! NEVER!) I need some summer clothing so maybe I'll go thrifting and pullout my sewing machine soon. speaking of that I need to get some materials so I can make my clothing pieces -- I want to show them in a visual for bold catalogue.

I asked Liam if he's down to make a soundtrack for bold with me and he's down!

Lachlan asked if I've been learning arabic because I said Wallahi im finished and LOL I definitely will learn a little bit in the future. Such beautiful calligraphy. And I'd like to flex that I am asian who knows arabic.

Tomorrow I think I'll go to school early and stay late and get a lot of studying done. I NEED TO STUDY! I CANNOT AFFORD TO FAIL PLEASE!!!

I've come to realize the amount of compliments I get on my tooth gem! It's funny how the moment I talk to someone and smile they immediately compliment and notice it! I feel like it adds a sparkle razzle dazzle to my wide grin. I don't mind compliments that are kindhearted like this. Like today, my coworker called me a cutie pie abg with a cute tooth gem LOL you have a girlfriend! does she know you're saying this to MEN! And at the cafe I got complimented on it when I smiled. I think I've always been a smiling grinny dude. I probably get it again once it falls off/more of them. maybe a crescent moon and a star? a heart would be kind of cunt as fuck.

[aitseleci]

deceived pt. 2

details: angst, albedo x gn!reader | cw: death / injuries / blood 

word count: 1840 | part one !

note: do i like this? idk mixed feelings tbh  — didn’t bother to add a picture for this one. but like here is part 2 as many requested 

It’s been months since the day Albedo broke up with you. A relationship that Albedo didn’t cherish, as he states. As time continues to pass, your heart aches as you recall those joyful moments with each other. Your affectionate feelings still lingered on edge; holding closely to the past. The nostalgia had you at ease in times of distress. You’d still loved him. No words can express your desire to stop loving him. But what else can be done? You were nothing but a victim to his research. He used you and admitted it, after all. 

Melancholy thoughts seem to be on your mind lately. You wonder how Albedo was doing, how he’s been, what he’d accomplished. You’d still cared, in fact getting over him wasn’t a no brainer. Everywhere you looked reminded you of him. His own essence loiter among commodities. The residents of Mondstadt and Dragonspine didn’t assist in your healing; the reminisce of the things you two did together: exploring, sketching, finding materials, indulging the savory dish of Sunshine Sprat. He taught you how to recreate this dish, lecturing you how to properly cook the salmon. 

“You make sure that the salmon becomes a dark orange and stiff,” the blonde whispers as he observes you flipping the meat over the stove. You nodded, eyeing the salmon carefully, letting out giggles in response. 

“I can’t believe we’re so focused on salmon ‘Bedo.” 

“Hm, you think so?” he answers in an amused tone. 

Whenever he shows you his special dish Woodland Dream, the prince himself had a smiled painted in his eyes. Indeed proud of himself with his culinary masterpiece. He describes the dish to be sweet and tender  — a blooming flower with each bite. You can still remember the tangy flavor that danced on your tongue. Despite this savory dish, this prince seemly has a sweet tooth. To him, he finds the sugar rush that washes throughout his body quite pleasant. A childish nature that you didn’t expect yourself.  

“You find it pleasant... a sugar rush?”

He was hesitant averting his eyes from your stare, “Well the ‘hyperactivity’ feeling, gives me a boost in energy... It's refreshing.”

“Hm, okay..” you smiled. How cute. 

Those wistful moments will remain to be daydreams of your little mind. It was a facetious act he pulled to test you. With the little hope you were attached to, you hope maybe Albedo didn’t mean what he said. At least a little. 

You didn’t bother going to Sucrose or Timaeus for your answer to your questions. Your relationship wasn’t public and doubted anyone would understand. Moving on shouldn’t be onerous, it’s not compared to your daily tasks. Ugh, you sighed in frustration. 

You were exploring the land of Dragonspine, wondering to find new discoveries. Despite Albedo’s influence to pique your curiosity of Dragonspine, your shrewdness needed to go beyond your understanding. It’s been a while since you stepped foot in the land of snow. Not after how much of his essence remained for your little heart. 

You trudge up along the path of Dragonspine, slowly recalling the time you had with Albedo. The crunching of the white snow underneath your feet, digging deep in the ground. The noises you can hear over the screeching winds. A path of fresh footprints laid behind you, displaying where you came from — not where you’re heading. In honesty, you don't know where you’re heading. All that was known was that you are going somewhere. Discover something. Get your mind off of him. 

The Adventurers’ Guild was still trying to post expeditions and catch the eyes of others. Though many adventurers have turned down these pleas. The cold condition was much too dangerous for them to handle, proper preparation was needed but expensive. Dragonspine was menacing for their safety and that was understood among the citizens. 

You briskly rubbed your hands for warmth. The icy winds swirled and sighed around you, sweeping against your skin. Sending chills throughout your body, the fabric of your clothing keeps you warm. Warm enough to make you at ease with the temperature, but not your cold thoughts of gloominess. 

“[y/n], you need my coat? It’s quite cold today, I wouldn’t want you to freeze,” Albedo sighs with the hinges of concern, already starting to slip off his coat.

“Huh, you sure, what about you?” 

A slight curve plastered on his face. An expression you don’t usually see besides his familiar blank expression. “Yes, I don’t exactly get cold and of course I insist.” 

He placed his coat on top of your shoulder, instantly feeling the warmth. The soft fabric rubbing against your cold skin. Your nose was occupied with his scent, filling you with wonder and interest. At times, his scent would be simple than complex. That day it was simple, calming and reassuring you with solace. 

You looked up to the sky, it was filled with ominous mackerel clouds. The dark sky was kissed by the high mountains and bare trees. The sudden wintry breeze whooshed passed you, overwhelming your body. You were missing the sunlight spilling its rays among the land of Mondstadt. How much time has passed? Who knew you would be homesick after wandering in the land of Dragonspine. And Albedo’s company, you couldn’t grasp the fact that he’s no longer in your life. The warmth and bliss of both the recollection of fond memories. Face lit up, feeling your own embarrassment in your cheeks. 

It’s been months, why can’t you get over him? 

“Ya!” the strange noise alerting you. You looked frantically trying to find the source of those gurgling sounds. It was deserted, the possibility of small rodents roaming around the area is surely high  — no wait; trying to think rationally. Then finally you see a monster camp right in front of you. 

You were ready to whip out elemental reactions and attack — oh no. Your vision illuminated its bright color. Still, nothing was released and hilichurl fighters were running at you. No way you were going to stand with this commotion, resorting to run for your life. As you huffed and puffed, accelerating your speed. The cold oxygen filling up your lungs, fingers were numb. Vision started to get foggy, decreasing your pace. You gaze down to notice red blood drizzled on the white blankets of snow. 

Blood? 

You felt the arrows that shot your head and leg. It must have been the hilichurl shooters. There were gashes on the back of your head and leg that began to rip you with pain. You touched the back of your head and felt the wet blood. With the energy in your had left, you continued — you looked back to see blurs of mitachurls with huge axes. Axes that can slice you in half. Your head and thoughts were swirling, unable to focus. Numbness seeped through your legs — stability was lacking. You were trembling, feeling your own body was out of your control. The snowy scenery swayed underneath you as your vision bathed in black spots. You collapsed in the snow, unable to pick yourself up. Legs and head were throbbing with agony and anguish. Pain that you never thought could exist, groaning in pain. The urge to scream came to you but no noise came out of your tired lips. You pushed yourself to crawl, eyeing a tree. Glancing back to see the monsters were leaving you alone. In the vast distances, struggling to hang on to dear life. Faint soft footsteps were heard, the soft slushing of the snow. Must have been an echo or from your imagination. Left alone suffering in the sub zero condition. Your mind was so foggy, eyes half-lit before seeing a glimpse of a familiar figure along the path. It was a blur of colors, you squinted in attempts for a clearer image. Just before you could make out what or who it was, darkness swallowed you whole; lying face down. 

“[y/n]!” 

You blacked out, unconscious in the cold. 

Albedo came running towards you, surely was shocked to see your body stiffly laying there. But noticing your wounds and the wet blood on your clothes — he had to take action. Still seeing that your vision was glowing, he didn’t worry as he checked your pulse. You were bleeding profusely, as Albedo swiftly wrapped you up with cloth he had on him. No words can explain how Albedo felt, as he threw your arms on his shoulders and back. Lifting your body up and holding on to your thighs; securing you. 

Albedo felt your pulse, beating with each running step. His pace started getting quicker, the desire to keep you alive. Not sure what to think of it besides the want to face you. His thought process was incoherent and he wanted it to be resolved.  

Little time. 

After sending you off, Albedo handed back to his camp, straight back to work. Focusing was an issue though. He had mixed feelings of frustration, unsure what these feelings could mean? He hoped you would be alright, but again, why would he care? Ever since the end of your relationship, Albedo noticed that he’s more sensitive than usual. Reactions seemingly to be more livid, stronger. New unfamiliar emotions that he can’t wrap his head around. This all left him at a dead end. 

He felt himself drowning in his own unwanted guilt. The princely blank face wasn’t there, instead contrasting it was the void of such strong rage. Teeth clenched, eyebrows arched. Face painted with pain and remorse. The look on your pale unconscious face... What was the source? His body heats up from this confusion, slamming his gloved hands on his desk. Palms sweating, soaking the leather, as he tossed them off. Papers and documents were flying everywhere, his arms swinging with tension. 

Is this what you're doing? It must be. 

Maybe as a vision bearer, you found a way to manipulate others. Nonetheless, Albedo needed answers. But with your crucial state, are you going to be alright? 

Albedo never felt this rage towards anyone: his master, Alice, Klee, Sucrose, Timaeus, The Knights of Favonius...

If only times were different. 

Weeks, months had passed, you were pronounced dead from your fatal wounds. On your deathbed, the glow of your vision had dimmed to a gray color. You were truly gone. Word got out and Albedo couldn’t pull himself together. Your death has left a void in many lives and memories. 

If only he cared. 

The blonde was choking with despair, gasping for a change... hope. As he flipped through the sketches of you, he stared blankly at your face. The little details that made you, you. He repeatedly muttered incoherent words: If only, if only.

There it was a sketch of you and your smile, if only he could see it one last time. He sighed, letting his head drop. His blonde hair was unkempt as he exhaled heavily. 

Once that first tear fell on the paper, more followed. 

If only he loved you. 

© aitseleci 2021 ✰ do not modify or repost

#🌧; angst-cele #albedo x reader #genshin angst #angst genshin #albedo genshin impact #albedo angst

[yesimwriting]

The Needs of Pain (part 2)

A/n since y’all liked part one!!

... i think i could make a part 3?? we’ll see lol 

This is the LONGEST thing i’ve written on here wow,, and the smuttiest 

Warnings: teasing, oral, unprotected sex (pls this is my first time writing full smut be gentle lol)

-- 

Exhaustion is an odd result of pain. I didn’t think I was that tired after the burn. I certainly didn’t feel sleepy while Kirigan cleaned my shoulder and brushed his soft lips and sharp teeth along my neck to distract me from the pain. Why am I even thinking of that? Of the way his breath felt against my skin, the way his tongue soothed any bites he left against my skin. I breathe out flatly. 

Stop thinking of him. Stop thinking of him in that context--that’s why he did it. He enjoys getting under people’s skin, that’s why he’s always insulting the way I see the world. My hand reaches to my neck, touching my skin where I can still feel his lips on my skin, tracing the faint marks I had seen in the bathroom mirror.

I should have asked the healer to get rid of them before they fully formed, but the thought of showing them to anyone was too embarrassing to bear. I force my hand away, dropping it onto my pillow. 

He had acted so strange today, he had been so blunt. It was a tactic. He wants to be in my head and I’m giving him what he wants. I sigh, rolling over and pulling my duvet further up my body. It’s too hot for this. Ugh. I kick the duvet off of my legs, letting my nightgown wrinkle up my body. Strong hands could pull the fabric up in a similar, yet much more euphoric way. 

No. Who’s thoughts are these? The fact that I picture the same hands that dabbed at my burn earlier today has me questioning my sanity. I can’t sleep like this. Kirigan wanted to be in my head and now he is. Damn him. I can’t stand him which means I can never have him.

Desire has nothing to do with tolerance. The thought leaves my face warm and stomach twisted. 

I sit up sharply, sliding out of bed tiredly. I’ll get some air and everything will be fine. The moon will clear my mind.

The Little Palace is strangely twisting at night, all long shadows and yellow lantern light. I slip out of my room quickly, but my thoughts are not immediately banished with the change of scenery. I must be ill. Infection must have set in regardless of my efforts and the healer sealed it beneath my skin and now it’s impacting me. Fever. I’m delusional with fever. 

“I didn’t take you the kind for a late night trist.” 

His voice leaves the hairs on the back of my neck standing like soldiers at attention. I manifested him the same way people manifest the devil. “Air.” My defense is childish. “I couldn’t sleep, so I thought I’d get some air.” 

The sound of even footsteps leaves me frozen in place. “What keeps someone like you awake?” It’s like he can read through me. “Thoughts of me?” 

He can never know. “Obviously.” 

My sarcasm doesn’t go unnoticed, he lets out an almost humored breath. “Or perhaps it’s pain.” 

The comment is so confusing I almost don’t realize he’s bringing up my shoulder injury. How had I let him see me so vulnerable? Why did he seem somewhat concerned in his own way? 

“My shoulder’s perfectly fine.” Good. A normal direction for this conversation to head. “It took the Healer all of two minutes.” 

The touch on my shoulder is so sudden I almost jump. Kirigan doesn’t shy away at that, fingers firmly brushing down the skin. “It feels the same.” 

I could scream. His strange observation means nothing to me, but the implication is enough to drive me mad. The implication that he knows my skin well enough to be able to judge whether the healed skin feels different is sickening. I’m tired of this. 

I turn on my heels, all of my tiredness and irritation twisting in me. “Even if it didn’t, it’s none of your concern.” 

“I didn’t realize you were extra irritable when you’re tired.”

Every conversation with him leaves me feeling petulant. “I’m not tired.” I cross my arms, keep my expression set. “I just--I wanted to get some air.” 

“Hm.” He takes a step forward, preparing to close the small distance I’d managed to create between us. “And why is that?” 

The question leaves me irritated in an odd way. A flat way. There’s a narcissistic entitlement in that question. An entitlement to my thoughts. I shrug. “I hoped it’d make me tired.” 

Kirigan draws his eyebrows together, curiosity and something resembling amusement playing at his expression. “If you’d like to be tired, I think I know a few ways to be of assistance.”

A faint, aggravating warmth comes to my face. Not only did my lie earn me a ridiculous innuendo, it’s also trapped me in a corner I cannot escape. Healing from the burn had left me pathetically drowsy. There’s no way he can’t see through me, a tired haze has to be visible on my face. My eyelids feel weighted and I’m too distracted by my deep longing for sleep to hold onto irritation. 

“I’m sure I’ll manage on my own.” The words are not meant to be a challenge, just a way to dismiss him. I don’t think he takes them that way. 

He draws his eyebrows together, eyes threatening to lose that curious quality. Kirigan steps forward, I step back blankly, desperate to keep enough distance to keep what’s left of my wits about me. He ignores my reaction, taking another step forward. I take another step back. My back touches the wall. I am a mouse and he’s an excited cat. 

“You don’t have to,” his voice is too low, too intimate, “I’m not sure that’s something you want to understand.” 

My chin raises just slightly, a silent protest. “Dependency is a fatal flaw.” 

“So is desire,” his reply is much too quick. “Desire is worse, because one can resist dependency based on pride...but desire, that is something that one sacrifices for.” 

Maybe if I was less tired I’d bother to interpret his words a little more. But all I can focus on is his tone--the quality of it. “You sound heavy.” My voice is as light as the night breeze I was craving moments ago. “But you always sound heavy.” It’s the wistful observation of someone slowly disappearing. “At least you’re pretty,” I muse, falling more and more distant by the second.

Something soft breaks across his features, his lips quirking. “Pretty?” 

I rest my back against the wall comfortably, eyes shutting without permission. “I’m sure I’ll regret that comment in a moment.” 

He stays silent, but his presence does not disappear. I can’t tell if I’m glad for it. The warm touch on my shoulder startles me out of my drowsy trance. Panic has me ready to jump off the wall, but Kirigan brushes his thumb up and down my shoulder. His touch sets any skin that comes in contact with him aflame. I shouldn’t find the gesture so comforting. My eyes flutter shut again, my body relaxing against the wall. When my protest dies out before it begins, Kirigan shifts closer. I’m confused, but too at peace to answer. Something velvety and warm brushes against my collar. Soft and warm and electric. He’s kissing my skin again. 

My lips part in hopes of arguing, but when his teeth graze the skin he already marked earlier I’m gone. My eyes shut again, but this time it’s different. Pleasure and drowsiness clear me of all inhibitions as his touch becomes more and more assured. I let him test me, his mouth moving against any and all exposed skin. I don’t even stop him when I feel his hands graze the hem of my nightgown, wrinkling it the way I imagined earlier. 

“Kirigan.” I need to find my strength, but what’s the point of strength when his touch leaves me so warm? The only acknowledgement of my protest he offers me is the lingering squeeze of my thigh before his long fingers begin to graze towards the inside of my thighs. I have no choice but to let his lips brush up my neck, his teeth grazing my skin the way they did earlier today. “Kirigan.” I try to sound firmer, but he destroys the rest of my sentence before I have the chance to get it out. His teeth nip the base of my neck, ruining my protest for a second time.

 Maybe if I was less tired I’d be able to fight him off a little better, but I’m so drowsy I had trouble thinking before he started touching me. My eyes shut in both bliss and exhaustion. His thumb presses into my hip. Something in me stalls as his fingers brush the hem of my underwear--testing me, challenging me. I open my eyes on instinct, but he remains unbothered, slipping his thumb beneath the only fabric that divides us in order to better grip my hip.

I stiffen because of how badly I want to melt. This is bad. This is insane. We’re in a hallway in the middle of the night and he’s General Kirigan. Whatever attraction I feel is another tactic to manipulate me. 

“We need to stop.” The command is weak, my voice as dry as my resolve. 

He angles his head in order to regard me a little better. His expression is one of mock confusion as he smirks. Actually smirks. “Stop what?” False innocence drips from his voice as he leans towards me, expression amused as his lips near my own. “I haven’t even started yet.” My eyes widen, something that amuses him. “Y/n?”

I’m left on edge. I’m left wanting. My lips part flatly, but words feel so distant. “Yes?” 

“What happened earlier?” His voice is the kind of sinful that’s meant to coax. Kirigan brushes his thumb across my shoulder, eyes watching mine cautiously. “How did you get burned?” 

I push against the sultry quality of his voice. “I told you--an accident.” 

“Hm.” His eyebrows draw together in a surprisingly soft way. I stare at him freely, but he ignores my gaze, eyes locked on my newly healed skin. Is he truly that concerned? “Whose accident?” 

I swallow once. “My own.” He still isn’t looking at me. “I’m not exactly the most coordinated person, you’ve witnessed my clumsiness yourself.” 

Kirigan is not convinced. Perhaps he will never fully buy my partial lie. His grip on me hardens. Restraint. I may not be able to win against his paranoia, but I might be able to distract him. Cautiously, I move one hand forward, touching the hand that’s on my shoulder. I hesitate. Touching him without prompting almost feels too intimate. I’m being ridiculous. I brush my fingers against the back of his palm, letting my touch trail up his forearm. 

“Y/n.” My name borders on a warning. 

I suppress a smile, playing into my sleepiness as I tilt my head to the side. “Yes?” 

He doesn’t reply, expression tightening as my hand snares around his wrist, pulling it off my shoulder with more care than I thought myself capable of. The intensity of his gaze is enough to burn me. I turn my full attention to his hand. I’d never admit this out loud, but this isn’t the first time I’ve thought about how objectively attractive his hands are. I kiss each of his knuckles slowly, brushing my lips against his skin tentatively. 

To my surprise, he allows my indulgence. I glance at him through my lashes. Kirigan’s eyes are shut, expression bordering on pained. “Kirigan?” 

He opens his eyes but his expression does not ease. His other hand leaves my thigh, grabbing the low collar of my nightgown with such a fierce speed it takes me a second to realize what’s happening. He pulls me away from the wall in a way that borders on violent. 

“I don’t know who you’re protecting, but I guarantee you they’re not worth it.” The words are acidic. He’s seething. “I grow tired of your resistance.” 

If he hadn’t transformed into something so untamed, I might have had enough gall to tell him I grow tired of being toyed with. I say nothing, instead I take in the abrasiveness of his anger, the tension of his grip on the thin fabric that clothes me. I am unflinching in my assessment in the most tired way possible, eyes struggling not to shut and body desperate to rest, but even more desperate for him. His eyes stare into mine, searching for something I am too far gone to offer. He must realize my sleepiness is genuine because he soon drops his gaze, taking his time in analyzing the even rise and fall of my chest as well as the hint of cleavage his grip on my nightgown is exposing. Pure heat finds itself in my face, chest, and worst of all---core. His staring lacks any shame. 

Kirigan parts his lips as if to speak but then instead takes a moment to lick them. The thought of his tongue in relation to lips only makes the burning in me worse. It’s practically an ache. A needy one. 

“I grow weary of your lack of understanding.” 

Understanding? “What is there to understand?” 

His head angles itself to one side but he doesn’t meet my gaze. The hold he has on me loosens just enough so that his hold on me is no longer taut. That should not disappoint me the way it does. I wait patiently, ignoring the bundle of unexplained nerves in my stomach as best as I can. Something strange colors his features when he finally looks at me again, something almost vulnerable. 

“I brought you here.” He sounds farther from me than ever. “I…” His exhale is gentle, but his expression is quick to harden. “Who are you so willing to protect?”

I must be really tired because his voice sounds like it borders on heart ache. If I didn’t fear Arthur’s safety I’d tell Kirigan everything if it meant his pain would dissipate. I never thought Kirigan’s potential pain would bother me, but now that I’ve seen him look stricken by something so weighted--now that I’ve seen the way he wears pain--I don’t want to be the one to give him that. I want to be the one to give him some kind of sanctuary. The thought leaves me with a desire to flea. 

“Will you just believe me when I say it’s no one?” In a way that’s the truth. Arthur is not particularly significant unless you’re a young Grisha female with a desire for heart ache. “No one worth mentioning at least.” 

He’s quick to retighten his hold on my nightgown, leaving the fabric taut and more of me exposed. “You being desperate to protect them makes them worth interest.” A different response than I expected. 

My lips thin. “Only because it was a small accident. They don’t deserve to be punished over the briefest loss of focus.” 

I take his silence as an indicator that he is considering my words. His free hand finds my shoulder as he pulls me even closer to him by the fabric he’s gripping. “And if I were to revoke the threat of punishment?” His voice is the definition of temptation, low and promising and coddling me with its sinfulness. I still as Kirigan leans forward so that his lips are practically on my ear. “Then would you tell me? If I released you from the binds of your nobility?” My lips part but I have no words prepared. Before I can think of what to say, his lips graze the side of my jaw before his teeth nip at the end of my ear. “Tell me just to humor me.” 

The command doesn’t make sense to me, but from his lips it feels important. “You won’t hurt them for what happened?” 

His voice seems rougher than before, “Would that make a difference?” 

“It would make all the difference.” I don’t like the honesty of my words. 

Kirigan allows one hand to trail down my waist--a gesture I consider obscenely intimate when paired with the soft brush of his lips on my collar. “I already know who.” His voice is a dark hum. “I was always going to know one way or another--but it’s good to know you would have told me.”

My stomach lurches, dread pouring into me like tar. Before fear can force me to take action, Kirigan begins to leave open mouth kisses from the top of my jaw to the bottom of my neck, taking his time to assault any spot of skin with his tongue that he wants. This reminds me too much of earlier--touches meant to distract from pain with the use of pleasure. 

“Are you--” His mouth is now on my collar, threatening to destroy my question. “Are you going to hurt him?”

At that Kirigan straightens. The sudden lack of contact leaves me cold. I shouldn't be thinking of him. Of his touch. “I’m curious,” he draws out each syllable, delighting in my nerves, “Would you bear his punishment?” 

I’m not sure. I hate that. I haven’t known Arthur for that long, and while he’s kind, he also seems to see all women as replaceable. That isn’t reason for him to endure Kirigan’s punishment but I don’t know him well enough to just blindly agree to that. I loathe myself for not being noble enough to take Arthur’s punishment instantly. 

“What kind of punishment?” 

Kirigan’s expression twists into a greedy smile. He pushes me back easily, pressing me into the wall with more confidence than ever. I’m silent in my confusion until he presses himself against me and I feel something hard and bulging press into where I’m neediest. I stifle a gasp of surprise and something similar to pleasure. “I’m sure I could think of something for you.” I’d care more about my confusion if hot need wasn’t flooding my thoughts and my body with undeniable desperation. “I haven’t even spoken to him.” I exhale, untrusting relief desperate to escape me. Kirigan is quick to lean forward, lips brushing my ear as he prepares to whisper. “I’m more likely to harm him because he has your favor than anything else.”

Warmth burns my face. “He doesn’t--he’s not exactly the one that holds my favor.”

The heat of his breath adds to my burning as he presses his bulge into my core again. “And who does?” 

I’m not sure what he considers favor, but if it has anything to do with wanting he wins. But he can never know that. “There are some contenders, but no one yet.” 

His hand moves off my hip and nears my throat. “Would it be too bold to assume I’m on the short list?”

He’s two steps away from taking me in an open hallway, I doubt he finds much bold. “Do you want to be?” 

Kirigan’s hand tightens on my throat. “I’ve made it clear from the beginning what I want.” His words are lethal and each syllable has him restricting my airflow a little more. Something in me must be broken because my neediness only worsens. “I brought you here because I see all that you could be. Forget being a Saint, we could be gods.” The sentiment is so raw it’s almost harder to bear than his tight grip on my neck. He leans close again, his scent only adding to my budding lightheadedness. “Say the word, and I could have you praising me like I’m already a god.” My stomach knots in both nerves and insatiable hunger. “Though I’m the one that would be doing the worshipping.” 

My resolve is shattered, leaving me broken and twisting. He releases his hold on my neck in order to move his hand beneath my chin. There is nothing gentle about the way he jerks my head forward, forcing me to look into his eyes. Something about the look he gives me has me melting. His eyes are searching for something in me.

He must find whatever he’s looking for because I feel his touch against my heat, fingers pressing against fabric. I bite my lip on instinct, suppressing the sound of my undoing. Kirigan’s eyes never leave mine as the hand on my chin moves to brush against my bottom lip. 

“I can only give you what you want if you tell me what that is.” 

He exhales slowly, pressing his thumb against my lip downwards. My mouth parts on instinct, something that he takes well. His thumb enters my mouth slowly, taking in my reaction as I taste his skin on my tongue. Kirigan pulls his thumb away from my tongue slowly, a thin string of saliva connecting him to my mouth. With one swift tug, his free hand pulls the only fabric separating him from where I want him most down my thighs. His expression reveals nothing as his thumb, still wet with my saliva, is pressed against my core. His touch teases my clit, just barely brushing where I need him most. The whine that escapes me is so desperate I’m ashamed I can’t help it. 

“So wet already,” his appraisal is gentle, the praise whispered against my throat as his lips brush against my neck. “So wet, so needy that you’d let me take you in this hallway and I’ve hardly touched you.” His finger presses further into me. I let out another pathetic breath. “A pity, someone like you--so painfully under cared for.” I’m reduced to nothing by his words and touch. “What I’d give to undue you here, against the wall--I’d have you crying so loudly everyone would know that I’ve claimed you, that I’ve made you mine.” Before I can reflect on his words, he steps back, pulling my underwear back up as quickly as he yanked it down. 

I let out an instinctual whine. My hand moves to his arm, grabbing him like he’s the only thing keeping me tethered to the earth. “What--” 

Kirigan squeezes my hand, a predator’s smile on his lips. “I want to feel all of you,” his hand squeezes my hip, “I can’t exactly do that against a wall, dove of mine,” he leans forward, lips brushing against my jaw in a way that leaves me chilled and melting at the same time, “At least not the first time.” 

His whisper forces my breathing to hitch, a fact that he notices with an amused look as his thumb brushes against my collar. Kirigan pulls me away from the wall easily. Even the causal touch feels electric against my skin. 

The walk towards my room is tense, his hands never leaving me as if he’s aware of how necessary it is to keep me distracted to ward off my better sense. When we reach my door, Kirigan opens it like it’s his. Entitled. Typical. 

I step into the room, his touch lingering on my arm. A brief shyness pushes itself into my chest. I had let Kirigan touch me in a public space and lead me back to my room. The door closes. I don’t turn. 

Kirigan’s hand squeezes my shoulder. “Shy, now?” His question is teasing, rekindling the fire beneath my skin as he places an open mouth kiss on my neck. He plays with the thin strap of my nightgown, pushing it off my shoulder. He kisses down my neck, collarbone, and shoulder. My inhibitions are melted away again. “When your breathing stalls like that,” his whisper is enough to elicit a desperate shudder, “I am left desperate.” 

He leans forward, mouth trailing down my chest, coming dangerously close to my breasts. The electric current of his touch is all consuming and addicting. I press my back into his chest. His hands are the opposite of shy, touching me everywhere except where I’m most desperate. Kirigan’s hand places itself between my thighs, using his thumb to tease my entrance. I let out a needy sound. And then he retracts his hand, grabbing my shoulders and turning me in one swift motion. 

“Kirigan.” 

His eyes are dark, clouded by something I don’t understand but am too aware that I reciprocate. “Tell me that I have your favor.” His words are taut, bordering on snapping. Kirigan’s grip on me tightens hard enough to bruise, an assertive need taking over him. “That you want me.”

Desire, pride, and rationality twist in my stomach, leaving me too distracted to form words. My gaze drops to the ground on instinct, something Kirigan clearly finds unacceptable because he’s quick to grab my chin and force my eyes to meet his. 

I swallow once, courage withering beneath the look in his eyes. It’s as twisted as a spindling shadow, but the look is fierce admirational, appreciation so deep I could drown in it. It scares and consols me all at once. “I want you.” There’s something pained about such powerful emotion. I loathe and am empowered by it all at once. “I want you more than I’ve ever wanted anything.” The words leave my throat scorching with their sincerity. 

As soon as the words leave me, he’s closing the distance between us, the slightest exhale of tension leaving his lips before they meet mine, prepared to devour me. I reciprocate his actions on instinct alone. There is no hesitation, no space, and yet it is not enough. Not enough and yet I don’t know how to be closer. But Kirigan does. One of his hands cup my cheek, coaxing me towards him as if I could possibly have the will to leave him. He steps forward, guiding me to step back. I obey fluidly until I feel something hit the back of my legs. It’d startle me if I wasn’t so consumed by his touch.

His mouth begins to move away from my skin. I chase after him, desperate to keep him touching me. He stops me by placing a hand on my shoulder, a warning about my neediness. I pout, but as he studies me I pant. Maybe the excuse for air was a good idea. I don’t fight the uneasiness of my breathing as I hold Kirigan’s gaze. He regards me with a patience I consider unbearable, taking in the determined look in his eyes, my swollen lips, disheveled hair, and the top of my night gown that’s half falling off. 

It’s in this moment I realize how much more vulnerable than him I am. 

If Kirigan notices any shift in me, he doesn’t mention it. Instead, he adjusts his hand on my cheek, his thumb brushing the hot skin gently. “You are everything.” His voice is cracking glass. “Everything that’s good, at least.” 

Maybe he did notice my initial reaction because I am no longer certain that I am the one that’s most vulnerable. “You’re better than you think.” I only say this because it would only weigh on me more to stay silent. “I see it and you don’t want me to.” 

His hand continues to stroke my cheek. “I want you to see all of me.” The heavy beating of my heart seems to stall in my chest. Kirigan drops his hand before grasping the hem of my nightgown. He pulls the fabric upwards easily, bundling the fabric above my hip. “I want you to…” He exhales flatly, pulling the fabric upwards even more. Nerves flood my stomach as he leans towards me, kissing down my jaw. “To know me,” he whispers against my throat.

I am nothing but uneven breaths as he mouth moves down my chest, stalling only once he’s reached my breasts. He pushes me forward easily, guiding me so that I’m laying on my bed. He’s quick to move over me, kissing up my neck as he adjusts so that I’m against the headboard.

When he pulls away again, I’m left pouting. He grins, fueled by my disappointment. “Don’t worry,” he breathes, fingers hooking around the waistband of my underwear before tugging it down my legs easily, “I’m nowhere near done with you yet.” 

Being so exposed has my doubts flooding back, but Kirigan is quick to fight against my instincts in a way only he seems capable of. He squeezes the inside of my upper thigh before leaning down, pressing his mouth onto the skin his fingers just touched. His kisses here are meant to leave me even more desperate, each nip and fleeting pass of his tongue is lazy yet intentional. I am incapable of doing else besides letting out pathetic whines. 

He ignores where I need him most, kissing up my thigh, across my lower stomach, and then down my other thigh. Kirigan continues the pattern across my skin, ignoring any pleas I swallow my pride to give. He is not rushed by my words or cries or the occasional desperate adjustment of my hips. 

Kirigan lifts his head slightly, releasing my inner thigh with an obscene ‘pop’. “Patience.” His fingers trail up my thigh and over my core, teasing my entrance with his lithe fingers. “Unless you’re ready to beg?” 

It’s a challenge, like everything else. The urge to give him my pride to satisfy the electric desire I’m not sure I’m capable of bearing. But then I note his tense hold on my thigh. A sign of restraint, of want. 

“And if I want you to beg for me?” I don’t know where the words come from, but they charge the room with potential. 

Something strange crosses his fingers before his lips tilt upwards in a dark way. “Would you like the strength of that? To have someone like me powerless before you?” My face warms. Kirigan leaves a lingering kiss on my thigh before he moves off the bed. I sigh at the loss of contact, but my tired neediness stalls at the sound of his belt coming undone. “I want to see you on your knees.” I sit up carelessly, desperate to obey him. I’m kneeling in front of him in an instant, taking in his length. The size of it has me gaping. “Open your mouth.” 

I take the order more eagerly than I should, but I make no move to take him. This is just another challenge. I keep my eyes on his as I stick my tongue out before licking the bottom of his member all the way up to his tip. The sound he lets out is pure sin. I lick his tip slowly, each motion of my tongue is strategic as I finally place him in my mouth. I hollow my cheeks, moving up and down slowly. 

The pace is not enough for him, he grips my hair from my scalp as he thrusts into my mouth. The motion is more powerful than I expected and I am left unable to breathe. My slight gag does the opposite of discourage him, he repeats the motion again and again, pushing himself into me until I can feel him in my throat. 

The sounds he lets out are a chorus to me, but it’s not enough. I need more control, I need a way to make him beg. I raise a hand, wrapping it around the base that I cannot fit into my mouth. I stroke him once slowly, making a point as I try to push myself back in order to make him want me more. 

He groans again. I make a point of pushing myself off of him. Precum protrudes his tip. I lick it off of him slowly. I lick up and down his member in the smallest way possible. 

“Y/n,” the restraint in his voice fuels my teasing, “Tease me and you’ll still be overwhelmed by want when the sun rises.” 

A pout tugs at my lips before I open my mouth again, taking Kirigan to my limit. He lets me set the pace of my bobs at first, but then he becomes desperate, holding me in place by the roots of my hair as he moans and thrusts into me without restraint. He ignores my choking as he continues until he throws his head back, letting out a quick praise of my name.

He finishes in my mouth and I swallow all he offers me greedly. I back off my knees slowly, throat burning as his member leaves my mouth. “On the bed.” He’s turned into something insatiable. “Now.” 

I move back to my bed, laying in the same position as before. He takes his time approaching me. When he finally gets to me, he kisses my thighs easily. I let out a small breath before something that’s pure pleasure meets my core. His tongue laps upwards lazily, grazing my clit but not quite touching it.  My hips thrust towards his face, but with hand he holds me down. A coil in my stomach continues to build as he angles himself more purposefully, tongue finally taking care of my clit. My gasps become less and less reasonable as he continues to lap at all that my body has to offer. The coil tightens, I see stars--and then, like cruelty personified, he pulls away. His absence leaves me ready to cry out. 

My desperation only fuels Kirigan as he lines himself with my entrance. Concern twists my stomach as I consider how full my mouth felt when he was in me. I expect some level of warning, but he thrusts into me with no warning. I let out a pathetic cry, but that means nothing to him as he pulls out just to thrust into me with full force again.

“Only I can hurt you,” he demands, thrusting into me as I call out his name. My eyes water at the sensation of such fullness, pleasure and pain combining themselves in a way that leaves me incapable of thought. “Your tears,” he muses, one hand moving to wipe at a tear rolling down my cheek, “Are mine.” 

His thrusts become more and more brutal, less and less even. Each movement of his body in mine leaves me begging for more and less at the same time. He continues until the coil in my stomach tenses to the point of breaking. 

“Kirigan,” I manage, voice far away, “I’m going t--”

“I know,” he offers, “finish with me, dove.” His hand finds my throat, adding the slightest bit of restrained pressure. “And do not hold in your cries.” 

Two more sharp thrusts have us both finishing, calling out for each other as we try to draw out the high of our orgasms together. 

We stay intertwined like that for longer than we should, but then Kirigan stands. I envy his ability to do so. I don’t call for him even though I still don’t want to be alone here. A moment later, I hear him approach. I’m too drowsy to ask what he’s doing as a damp towel is wiped against my forehead and inner thighs. 

When he’s finished cleaning me, some raw emotion settles in my chest. “Are you leaving?” 

Kirigan hesitates. “Not if you don’t want me to.” 

I roll over, the motion leaves my body aching. Kirigan accepts my invitation, crawling beneath my sheets and adjusting our bodies so that he can rest his hand on my back. 

--

Tags: @luminous-99 @voyevoda-thejoy @voidmalfoy 

@i-padfootblack-things

 @all-art-is-quite-useless @buckverse @mandowh0re @benbarnes-supremacy

@we-love-our-bandz @fire-in-her-veinz @weirdowithnobeardo @bvudzsoo @kaque @ponyboys-sunsets @coldlilheart @granillx @dreamohlittledreamofme @sanna2020 @zaynzierulez 

@ive-died-everday-waiting-for-you @xxaerynxx @ralesera @tea-effect 

@tranquillitymoon

#shadow and bone #shadow and bone x reader #shadow and bone show #shadow and bone imagine #general kirigan #general kirigan x reader #general kirigan imagine #general kirigan x you #general kirigan x reader smut #grishaverse #grisha #grishaverse x reader #grishaverse imagine #grishaverse x you #the darkling #the darkling x reader #the darkling smut #the darkling x you #the darkling imagine

[kithtaehyung]

Last November (M)

title: last november (m) post date: december 14th, 2020, 8pm est  ⤷ revamped/extended: march 27th, 2021, 10pm est pairing: seokjin x reader(f) genre: angst, smut, exes to lovers au summary: you two broke up on good terms. even seeing each other on your friends’ yearly end-of-november trip was never awkward. so why did this trip feel so different? and why does it feel like the end of something that wasn’t even there in the first place? warnings: angst, bad puns and jokes, mutual pining, light dom/sub undertones, oral sex (m/f receiving), nipple play, hair-pulling, choking, rough sex, unprotected sex (pls be responsible!), dirty talk, spanking, creampie, seokjin is a consent king, did i say angst?, did i also say bad puns and jokes? mobile users: alt link if this doesn’t open in tumblr ➛ AO3 word count: 23.7k 24.7k !!

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On the last Friday of every November, your group of friends piled into two cars and set off into the mountains. 

Ever since you all graduated from high school years ago, everyone branched off into their individual, intricate walks of life. Different towns, different jobs, different social circles. 

But before those grand adventures started, each of you promised one thing: a yearly trip to keep the friendship alive.

This time around, you happened to be in the “decidedly more fun” car as Jimin, Taehyung, and your longtime friend Rin jammed the backseat with singing and road trip games. Since Seokjin took driver, you claimed navigator, leaving the front of the vehicle a bit muted compared to the other half. Which was fine - you always loved relaxing on the sidelines while your friends played with chaos and hilarity. 

Namjoon kept you company from time to time, too, so you weren’t completely alone in your preferred space.  

The only thing that could’ve made the ride awkward was if you and Seokjin were on bad terms. 

It wasn’t every day you found yourself sitting beside your ex, after all. 

But that simple fact didn’t phase you. The truth was that your breakup was clean and painless - a massive relief to your friends. Back then, it would have torn everyone to pieces picking sides. 

The split was so organic that you couldn’t recall an awful reason why it happened. Separation proved as natural as the changing of seasons: you had moved away for university and he powered through his own medical pursuits. Over time, the relationship simmered to a text every few days, resulting in the night in which you decided that it was better to remain friends.

What sucked was the fact that, over the course of time after the breakup, you fell for Seokjin. Annoying, charming, incredible Seokjin. 

You didn’t come to terms with it until last November, when you watched his eyes sparkle under an indigo ocean of stars and it just clicked. Agony carved into your heart some nights when you thought about nothing else, but you couldn’t admit your feelings. Not when you two decided that your river had run its course. You couldn’t risk smothering the last embers of your relationship, so radio silence remained your lonely swan song. 

Of course you wanted to admit it. You wanted to tell him. Because no matter who came after, they all fell short. Every smile flashed your way, every pair of arms wrapped around your torso, every night spent between the sheets. Nothing compared to what you got from Jin. That man created a hole in your heart that lingered in his wake, a hole through which all of your subsequent relationships plummeted. 

The truth was simple: you didn’t want to ruin what you had. Even if what you two would always be was just friends, that endgame was enough for you.

At least, that’s what you told yourself. Every night when you couldn’t sleep, and every morning when you woke up to an empty bed.

Your vision snapped into focus as your phone screen bloomed. The maps app signaled for a turn, so you relayed the direction to Seokjin, who repeated the direction out loud before following through.

Just like always.

The road in front of you melted into a different scene entirely as you recalled why he started that habit. It sprouted from one of your car rides to a diner situated on the other side of your hometown. 

During the drive, you did your best as navigator, but your boyfriend was so into the music playing that he missed some turns. One errant right later had you both terribly lost, the surrounding area swallowing the car in darkness. On instinct, you dove into defense mode, trying and failing not to outright panic.

“My maps won’t load,” you stuttered, hitting the screen with your finger, “Shit, shit, shit.”

“Don’t worry, I can just—”

“Don’t tell me not to worry,” you bit out. “Let’s just get out of here.” You hated how pure paranoia pricked at the corners of your eyes. Getting lost was completely irksome and going back home was more appealing to you than moving forward with the date. 

“Okay. I won’t,” Seokjin assured you, turning the wheel and rolling the car out from the shadowy street. “How can I help instead?”

“Oh, umm.” With grateful eyes, you stared at your boyfriend and admired his consideration. You’ve never been asked that while upset before. “You could, uh, repeat the directions before following them? That might help.” 

His lips curved into a smile, and streetlights flooded the car to bathe his sincerity in a warm glow. “Repeat directions, you got it.”

The memory faded as you blinked and observed the endless mountain range enveloping the road. Snow topped the summits in white caps; coniferous trees swallowed the steep slopes. As if reminiscence clogged your ears, the music in the car seemed louder outside your broken reverie. 

Taehyung, as always, took charge of the aux. He usually had an eclectic mix of tunes on rotation but, that time, nothing but upbeat Christmas music was queued. You had to admit: merry music coating the car windows and mountainous scenery claiming your entire vision put you in the best mood. 

It was even better when Seokjin sang along. You really did like his singing voice. 

“I like my singing voice, too.” 

Your eyes snapped toward the driver, expression freezing over as you drank in his delight. Did you really say that out loud? You knew Seokjin enough to know that he was never going to let that go. 

“Yeah, well…” You lazily swatted his grin away. “Don’t flatter yourself.” 

Seokjin chuckled, his hands comfortably resting on the wheel. “Are you offering to do that for me? It’s minimum wage, but I’d hire you.”

Rolling your eyes felt like the only appropriate response, so you did exactly that, your exasperated gaze looping around to land on your phone. “Relish this moment, Seokjin,” you advised, zooming out in the maps app to make sure you were still heading in the right direction, “Because it won’t happen again. And take the next exit. We’re almost there.” 

“Yes, yes, next exit.” You missed the smirk on his face as he scanned the roadside for the telltale sign. “Moment relished,” he quipped, “But I prefer my moments with ketchup and mustard.” 

Your groan drowned in his boisterous laughter, but the hand on your face betrayed you since it couldn’t quite cover up the glee that formed right after. 

An hour later, everyone had unloaded the vehicles at the campgrounds and pitched the tents. While Hoseok and Jungkook worked on starting the fire pit, Namjoon and Jimin took their time organizing the food and snacks. Rin had disappeared with Taehyung somewhere, but Yoongi said he spotted them taking pictures a ways off. 

“They should be helping,” he muttered. “There’s a lot to do before it gets dark out.” 

Squatting down to rotate sizzling meat on your portable grill, you waved him off. “They’re shot-swapping since it’s golden hour.” 

The silence that followed gave you pause. When you looked up in curiosity, Seokjin and Yoongi regarded you like a foreign language coated your tongue, their struggle to decipher it earning a chuckle of pity. 

“They’re both huge influencers, so they know how to take pictures. They always do this when we get together,” you explained, spinning the kebab onto another side, “And golden hour is around sunrise and sunset. It looks like everything is soaked in gold, and it makes your pictures look pretty. But that’s an old term already! You geezers should keep up.” 

Yoongi simply raised an eyebrow and kneeled to turn his designated stick. Smoke from the charred meat wafted into your noses as he declined, “I’ll pass. That sounds stressful.” 

A rapid clapping of tongs next to your ear preceded Seokjin’s offer, “What are we waiting for? Let’s golden hour swap!” 

Why did he have to be so endearing? A cough escaped your throat, disjointed laughs following right after in their awkward escape. Beside you, Yoongi flung condescension Jin’s way, his voice stocked with disappointment as he warned, “Don’t speak. You age yourself.” 

You transferred your kebabs to a foiled plate before standing, blood rushing to your lower legs. Seokjin was unleashing a hearty tirade at the other man grilling when you intervened, “That sounds nice, actually. I’m in a photography class so I was planning on taking some photos anyways. Lemme just get my camera.” 

As you walked away, you couldn’t escape the abrupt change in atmosphere hovering over the grills, its looming tension caressing the back of your coat in a slight push. The words exchanged were soft in volume, but their possible meanings stayed clanging in your ears. 

“Did you tell her yet?” 

“No.” 

“Do it. She deserves to know.” 

You slipped out of your tent with a heavy jacket and lightheadedness. Medicine would’ve helped with the latter, but the med kit Seokjin packed remained strictly for emergencies. Besides, you couldn’t quite slap a bandage on what was truly bothering you anyways. 

As you inspected your class-registered Polaroid, you continued to wonder what Yoongi meant earlier. 

What was he implying? You deserved to know what? You couldn’t say the feeling swirling around your gut was a positive one. After all, there was a distinct difference in what a person should know, and what a person deserved to know. What was so important that Yoongi practically ordered Seokjin to spill? 

Was there another person in his life now? That was one thing that crossed your mind, but you filed that under the “should know” category, even though it twisted your stomach to think about.

The news had to be something urgent. 

Was Seokjin getting married? 

Without your permission, vessels in your heart shriveled, squeezing life from your already battered soul. A betrothal was entirely possible with his pursuit of a medical degree and coming from a well-to-do family. Maybe he was in an arrangement? 

That possibility dropped an anvil on your chest. You couldn’t say that you were completely fine were that the truth. How could you be fine with something like that if you loved him? Of course, you would be happy if he was, but your heart would require recuperation for an extended amount of time. Give or take a few years. 

You wandered so far into the depths of your mind that Seokjin’s sudden appearance kicked you back to shore, a yelp leaving your mouth at the same time your Polaroid left your hands. If the camera wasn’t hanging from your neck, you would’ve been in deep shit with your professor as soon as it hit the cold soil. 

Its bulky frame definitely bruised your lower chest on the downswing, though. “Ow. Geez, Jinnie, you can’t just sneak up on people like that.” 

Your eyes widened in realization. Jinnie? Shit, you hadn’t called him that since you guys were dating. Quite obviously, the stockpile of thoughts and worries involving his secret were blocking your brain from better judgment. 

And apparently you weren’t the only one affected by that nickname because Seokjin’s eyebrows shot into his dark locks, his peculiar glance shifting away. Odd. 

After an awkward second, he cleared his throat. “Does it hurt?” 

Is it supposed to? You knew he was inquiring about your injury but your thoughts drifted to what hadn’t been divulged yet. “No, it’s fine,” you lied. “Let’s pick a spot before we lose the light.” 

You don’t remember how long you walked, but the pair of you ended up far from the original campsite. 

In your defense, it wasn’t like you planned that outcome. The trees matched at every turn, so you kept wandering until you found a good clearing - or at least some rocks to break the forested monotony. 

A foil to your pickiness, Seokjin voiced his thoughts every ten paces, his votes of confidence constantly crushed by your boots. If you had a cent for every time he declared a spot “the one,” you could actually afford the Polaroid dangling from your neck. 

It was at a calm clearing with some patches from last snowfall where you decided to settle. 

Unhooking the strap from your neck, you ushered, “Let’s do this quick. It’s almost over.” 

“I wanna do it first!” You thought Seokjin meant to take the camera from you, but instead he scuttled into the clearing, striking a pose once he reached its center. Of course the fool meant that he wanted his pictures taken and not the other way around. How was any other idea plausible? “Hurry up, you said!” 

“The ‘S’ in Seokjin stands for ‘Selfish,’” you yelled, positioning the Polaroid against your eye regardless. His face enlarged in the lens and, to his credit, you couldn’t argue that he was the clear model between you two. The man could pursue a career in fashion instead of medicine and you wouldn’t bat an eye. 

He looked handsome merely standing there, cheeks dimpling at nothing in particular and his charm ever effortless. Even the slight bags under his eyes didn’t take away from his natural beauty. 

Par for the course with Seokjin. That unbothered self-assurance was one of the traits you liked and hated about him. 

At least, initially. The more you got to know him, your outlook on that defining characteristic was one of admiration, not hatred. You simply needed to start shoving some of that confidence down your own throat like a different type of vitamin C.

After a telltale camera snap, the man threw out his coated arms in another pose. “And the ‘Seok’ stands for ‘Seok in my presence!’” 

“I think I’ve been in it long enough. My fingers are pruny,” you droned while lowering your Polaroid, ignoring his wiggling in the background. It seemed you were still accustomed to his ridiculousness. 

Yet another thing you gave him credit for: he was never afraid to be a dork. When you first met him, you admittedly thought he was faking it. Over time, you recognized his authenticity, and you grew fond of everything wrapped in the gift that was Kim Seokjin.

You waited for the picture to materialize in your hand. When your impatient model approached you and asked why you weren’t shaking the polaroid, you informed him that you should, in fact, not do that. “It’ll damage the final product!” 

“So that song is…” 

“Wrong. Yes.” 

Pure shock flashed across his face. “What other lies have I been told?”  

The captured memory started blossoming, and you watched as the color bled into life. “That you aren’t the funniest person on the planet,” you answered, earning a scoff. 

“In that case, you’ve just been misinformed.” Seokjin huffed before offering an outstretched palm. “Now hand over the camera, it’s your turn.”

“Me?” You didn’t think he was serious when he said swap. In reality, you just assumed he whipped up an excuse for you to take pictures of him. 

And you didn’t mind. It was nice to have that charming smile directed at you, even if only through the lens of a camera. The Polaroid would be your shield, blocking Seokjin from the pain swimming in your eyes, barely afloat in pools of regret and guilt and loneliness.

“Yes, woman! When was the last time you had your picture taken?” 

Slowly, embarrassment swelled across your cheeks when you realized it had been a very long time. Legitimately long. You never asked others to take your picture; rather, you were always the one behind the lens. The last time someone actually offered was… 

“When you took one,” you stuttered out breathily, “At that park.” 

It was during one of the last dates you two went on before you left for university. There was a carnival you were dying to visit, and Seokjin surprised you with tickets and a kiss. 

You remember being so elated while traversing through the whimsical booths, failing fantastically at the rigged games, scarfing down sticky, billowy cotton candy. Squeaky horns and childish laughter filled your ears, and you could still feel Jin’s gentle fingers on your hand as he shyly tugged you under glowing stringed lights. 

The main attraction was a carousel keeping everything else in orbit, its charisma shining like a golden, spinning sun. When night fell, you too gravitated toward its charm, standing behind its barricade to watch horses and teacups endlessly turn. 

It was so captivating that you forgot yourself and where you were - who you were supposed to be spending time with. Swiveling in fear, you scanned the bustling crowd for your boyfriend, realizing that you needn’t worry at all. 

Seokjin simply waited behind you, holding up his phone and telling you to pose. You were so caught off-guard in that moment that your face contorted hilariously right as he snapped the photo. In his eyes, it was the greatest picture of all time. 

However, it wasn’t that well received by its subject. You begged Seokjin to delete it, and he finally caved on the grounds that you took a replacement. Conceding, you stomped back to the gate guarding the twirling attraction and pranked your boyfriend with a blank expression. 

But as soon as Seokjin drawled “You look like you don’t care-ousel,” you burst into laughter - your unabashed mirth becoming his background on every device he owned. 

The scene faded from your eyes as the current Seokjin stood in front of you, gripping the Polaroid instead of his phone. Gone were the lights and sounds of the theme park and, with them, your fleeting moment of solace. 

“Oh,” was all he stated in return, and you swore the temperature chose to drop in that moment just to mock you.

“You know I don’t prefer it anyways.” Your heart was losing its grip, sorrow evident in your shaky tone. You folded your arms to shield your body from the weather and unwanted emotions. “I’m definitely not as photogenic as you.” 

“Nonsense,” Seokjin shot back. “Now hurry up, it’s only golden minute now!” 

And just like that, his warmth melted any awkwardness like spring chasing away winter. 

In retrospect, he probably regarded that moment at the carnival differently, or he just wanted to keep those memories in the past where they belonged. It hurt to be the only one so strongly affected by them, but Jin had the right idea. If there existed a standard list of activities to do with an ex, talking about the past wasn’t one of the options. Especially if you had feelings for said ex. 

Plus, you didn’t forget that there was something he had to tell you. It seemed like you were going to have to wait a little longer for that, and your anxiousness wasn’t pleased.  

As you ambled to the center of the clearing, you focused more on the crunching sounds your boots made rather than your feelings. With a quick survey of the area, you surmised that it really was a pretty spot, the mountain range peeking behind the trees adding depth to the setting. Adjusting your outfit, you took a breath of courage before staring at the eye of the Polaroid.

Seokjin moved the camera from his face and called your name, roping your gaze to his concern. “Smile, okay?” 

On instinct, your throat constricted. You couldn’t hide behind the lens that time. But smile you did, and you hoped Seokjin thought it genuine, silently pleading him to not notice the anguish lingering behind your crescent eyes. 

The fire pit your friends constructed blazed bright as you both made it back to the campgrounds. Everyone occupied the surrounding logs and, judging from the soft pop pumping from a portable speaker, Jungkook must have commandeered music control.

Jimin turned when he heard your footsteps, his expression indiscernible as he shifted his gaze between you and Jin. Thankfully, he didn’t say anything, only turning back to Yoongi to continue their conversation. 

Seokjin and you parted ways effortlessly: he slotted into the empty space next to Namjoon and you headed to your tent to stow your camera. 

And for some reason, that easy departure was hard to swallow. 

Your pitched space offered warmth upon entry, and you dumped yourself onto your sleeping bag without a word. A few quiet moments passed before you unzipped your backpack, the tiny action feeling so tedious, so difficult to achieve. 

After you finally stored your equipment and closed your bag shut, you just… sat there. Contemplative. 

Mentally, you were in a bad place. Your thoughts and emotions banged into each other, their war rendering you powerless - captive. Fidgeting with the plasticky fabric of your sleeping bag, you thought back to what happened after you two left the photo spot.

It was an uneventful walk back for the most part. The polaroids turned out nice, all thanks to the very rare and very expensive camera you borrowed. Seokjin claimed yours and handed you his, and faced with your sudden curiosity, he sheepishly offered, “You don’t have to keep it.” 

You were more questioning of the fact that he stored yours in his jacket, but you didn’t want to broach that subject. It was beginning to scare you. Maybe it was the fact that he was acting strange, coupled with the other fact that he was hiding something from you. 

Why were you suddenly afraid to confront him? You two were open with each other during your relationship. Were you also wanting to put this dreaded conversation off as long as possible, too? 

If he was with someone else, though, would he still be keeping your picture? 

It was too much to think about, so you tried to lock everything in a box and sit on it. 

You saw the light of the campfire after a few minutes of walking through the woods - a handful of silent, crawling minutes. It was bugging you that Seokjin didn’t say anything on the way back. A quiet Jin was a Jin knee deep in thought, and not in good circumstance. In a moment of weakness, you almost offered out your hand to grab his, but you instead crammed it inside your coat pocket. 

When you both rejoined your friends, it seemed so easy for you guys to separate, like you didn’t just go off and do something so intimate. Even though that wasn’t the word you wanted to use. 

You resigned yourself to the big picture nonetheless: it wasn’t like what Taehyung and Rin did. Your best friend was insanely popular on social media with her carefully curated feed and relatable-yet-unachievable style. Taehyung had his own massive following for different reasons, and you couldn’t deny that he knew exactly what he was doing to gain the hearts of many. They were snapping photos for each other to show millions of anonymous beings across the world. 

You and Seokjin just took photos for each other to have. No one else was going to see those. 

Why did you feel like that was significant? 

The edge of your sleeping bag began to fray under duress, so you plucked your body off the ground and slipped back outside. What you expected was the temperature dipping a couple degrees in nightfall. What you didn’t expect was Jimin waiting for you, puffy jacket and all, leaning against a tree. 

When he saw you emerge from your tent, he straightened and regarded you with caution. “Everything okay?”

You adjusted the front of your coat before fishing a beanie out to cover your ears. “Yeah, why?”

“You were just in there for awhile,” Jimin explained, his eyes searching yours, “And you were with him for a long time.”

“I don’t like being interrogated, Park,” you sighed.

“I know, I just…” He mirrored you and huffed his own breath toward the ground. A quick glance had you noticing that his own beanie was knit as thick as the fog in your mind. “I just want to make sure.” 

Jimin was whom you considered closest next to your best friend and formerly Seokjin. After your break up, Jimin regularly sent you texts to check on you, despite your constant assurance that you were okay. It got to a point where you phoned him and pleaded reprieve - to reach out only if he had something critical to say. 

His broken reply? He only texted you because Seokjin wouldn’t. 

You ended up crying after that call, and the tears annoyingly persisted a couple nights following. 

He was also one of the only two people in the world that knew you loved Jin. Rin was the other, and that’s only because you let it slip during a girls’ night over cheap wine and period piece movies. Something about an early morning confession in a dewy meadow was enough to loosen your alcohol-mottled tongue.

After you ran your fingers over your head, you responded, “Can I ask you something?” 

Your friend’s eyes roamed over your face. “Of course.”

“What’s he hiding from me?”

Jimin instantly clammed up at the question. His dancer frame assumed a rigid position, each limb locking, including his jaw. “It’s not my place to say,” he answered gravely, pulling anger from your center.

“Does everyone else know this secret except me?” You really couldn’t take it anymore, especially knowing that something you supposedly deserved to know was possibly public knowledge. 

“Just the guys,” Jimin divulged, and you scoffed. 

“I can’t believe this.” You made to walk away, in the opposite direction of the campfire. Into the woods again.

Jimin said your name like he just wanted you to understand already, halting you mid-stride. “I’ve been trying to get him to talk to you. Trust me, I have.”

“He’s a grown man, Park. His decisions aren’t your problem,” you whispered. 

“But aren’t they yours?” 

“Not anymore. We aren’t together right now, if you don’t recall.” You knew you were spitting bullshit, and Jimin did, too. If Seokjin wasn’t giving you problems, you wouldn’t have been hiding in your tent or literally and figuratively walking away from him. Guiltily, you turned back to face Jimin and give him his credit. 

He was this way for everyone in your group: the glue that hung on and fought to keep people from breaking apart. Whenever a fight broke out between warring parties, Jimin was the middle man. Always. 

Sighing, you relented, “I’m sorry I’m taking this out on you. I’m just so confused, and the longer he hides whatever he’s hiding from me, the more restless I’ll be.”

“Everyone is on your side in this,” Jimin replied. “He just needs to, I don’t know, woman up.”

A breath of laughter escaped you at the tweaked phrase, the tension coating your shoulders slowly sliding off in clumps. “Did you say ‘woman up?’”

“Men aren’t shit,” your friend explained, pointing a gloved finger to punctuate every syllable. “At least women get things done.”

“I would totally drink to that if I had a bottle in my hand, Jimin.”

“Ah, well that can be arranged!” The boy’s eyes crinkled as he spun on a heel. “Let’s go. Jungkook and Taehyung brought out the drinks awhile ago. I missed out on a few bottles already talking to you.”

“Oh, I feel so remorseful,” you cooed, your voice worthy of giving kids cavities. “Almost as if I cared.” 

“Ass,” Jimin snapped, but he could only laugh. When you joined his side, he turned and whispered, “But seriously. If he doesn’t talk about it by the end of this trip, I’m giving him hell.” 

The temperature dropped again at that moment, and the wind blowing through the pines cut straight into your bones. Your shoulders hunched on instinct and you blinked to get needed moisture. Was it going to snow? The skies above did look intimidating. Was it going to storm? 

A sudden trepidation settled into your gut. “Did we check the weather,” you queried, shuffling through your brain to see if you monitored it yourself before the trip. 

“Uh-umm, I did,” Jimin answered through chattering teeth, “But I didn’t see anything other than it being cold.” 

You pulled out your phone and regretted doing so, your fingers freezing over instantly. You were lucky you all chose a location that was still in signal range - really, thanks went to Rin and Taehyung for incessantly demanding it every year.

Pulling up the weather app after a few tries, you cursed at the oncoming forecast. “Well, there’s more to it. Snow’s coming in,” you relayed to Jimin. “Let’s pack up and find a place to stay.” 

The car ride to the nearest lodging felt immensely different than the ride to the campgrounds. Some people focused on defrosting, one person worried about the people in the front, and the two said people in the front weren’t talking at all. 

It was you that broke the silence when you steadily gave directions, and Seokjin would repeat them like always. Selfishly, you wanted the car ride to keep going just so you could hear his voice. He wasn’t saying anything otherwise, and there wasn’t music playing for him to absentmindedly sing along to. 

The first snowfall was light as your caravan entered the small town nearby, which relieved you. Tiny snowflakes clung onto the windows and you lost yourself in their geometric patterns. Lights from the shops and other stray cars reflected in the slick roads to create a symphony of color, and white patches already settled on trees that lined the main way. 

Seokjin spotted the lodge first, and he rolled into a spot towards the entrance, Jungkook’s car slotting into the next space. Your driver rolled down his window and repeatedly pointed his finger down to signal for Yoongi to follow suit. “Let’s go in and make sure they have our rooms first,” he called out, and Jungkook leaned over his console to shout a hearty okay.

You hoisted yourself out of the car and waited for the boys to follow. Seokjin went to stand next to you, but instead of Jungkook popping out of the other car, it was Namjoon that emerged. You could only guess that the youngest slyly started a game to have the loser get out. 

Your stomach turned when you realized it was most likely because no one wanted to be left alone with you and Seokjin. 

Remorse burned your throat. This trip was supposed to be fun, but it just felt strained. Were you overthinking? Or was your churning gut correct in its assumption? 

At the very least, you hoped everyone else was having a better time than you were. 

It seemed that the man beside you had the same feeling that a challenge was pitched. “Rock-paper-scissors? Or nose goes?”

Namjoon just laughed at the ground as his face flushed. “Nose goes, and I put my finger on my mouth so, umm, that’s that.” 

You chuckled while you three made your way to the door, both of them towering over you on either side. Seokjin opened the entrance for everyone and, when you stepped foot inside, you were hit with a wave of warmth mixed with an undercurrent of gingerbread. The entirety of the main entrance bathed in plaid or embroidered throws, and there was an obvious affinity for Christmas on display with the plethora of garlands, lights, and a towering Christmas tree in the front bay window. 

Namjoon and Seokjin quickly got distracted by the toy train running through a snowy village setup. Adorable, but not helpful. 

Alone at the front desk, you received confirmation that your group had four bookings, and you thanked the concierge while you gathered the keys. 

The rooms weren’t next to each other. One of them sat on another floor, and the rest were separated but shared the same level. 

A container of pamphlets caught your attention, so you grabbed one before strolling away. “Guys, let’s claim our rooms. After that, you can watch the train all you want,” you called out, tapping them both on the back with the thin brochure. 

They swiveled their heads to your retreating form before following you out the door. 

“No. We are not doing that again.” 

“Come on, hyung, it’ll be fun!” 

“I’m with Yoongi on this one. We could all end up in the same room.” 

“But what if you get a room to yourself?” 

“Why can’t we ever just pick like normal people? And Hoseok-hyung, you laugh but you have the worst luck out of all of us.” 

“Excuse me! That’s only because you all psyche me out!” 

“Let’s just pick something. My phone’s almost dead.” 

You stood next to Rin while you two watched the boys decide how room assignments were determined. It was a sight to see: them crowding the small hallway, bags littered around their bulky shoes. You both were thankful they were courteous enough to let you two keep a room to yourselves. They even made sure yours wasn’t on the other floor, just so that you girls wouldn’t be alone. 

They were going to pick random rooms one-by-one, not knowing which options the others picked until they opened a door. If you and your friend also had to choose, you were risking the possibility of being stuck with Seokjin, which was the last thing you wanted. 

On a day where your friendship was actually normal, that wouldn’t have mattered one bit. But right then? The tension surrounding him would have been detrimental. 

He had something to say; he wasn’t saying it. You were a sitting, fidgeting duck. 

Jungkook whipped his phone out to search the internet for a random coin flip generator. “Here. Heads, we do it. Tails, we don’t.” 

Yoongi just snickered in defeat and already started picking up his bag. “I call picking first.” 

His intuition proved sharp as the generator pulled up Heads: they were going with the random room assignments. Taehyung kicked his head back with a sigh, and Jimin and Jungkook burst into laughter while the elders collectively groaned.  

As Rin giggled at their misfortune, you sent a rueful smile Seokjin’s way out of habit. You were still friends, after all, and he seemed so distraught over the prospect of horrid results. His eyes locked onto yours and, for a brief moment, he offered a shy grin in return.

The fluttering in your chest was quickly shooed away. 

It was while everyone relaxed around a public lounge area that Jungkook hurled an accusation, his eyes alight with the flames licking the nearby fireplace. “Hyung cheated.” 

Seokjin immediately sat up in his plush chair and retorted, “Take that back! I did nothing of the sort. You all were just too lazy to take the stairs to the next floor.”

Taehyung shot him a side eye and shared his own eloquent opinion. “Seems sus.” 

A whole new wave of bickering erupted, and you redirected your attention to the snow storm blustering outside tall windows. 

You were thanking every deity above that you guys decided to leave in time. It would’ve been hell in the campsite during this weather, or even while squeezed into the cars. 

Though the original plans were derailed, you were pretty happy with the current lodging situation. Who knew a small town would have a humongous lodge? It had to be assumed that this was the main business keeping the town running. Rin was absolutely drinking it in and stated she even wanted to bring her family there, her thoughtfulness curving your mouth upwards.

Another good thing that came out of this trip proved to be the room assignments that Jungkook ended up loathing. They had you clutching your sides when all was said and done.

Four of the boys managed to pick the same room, and Hoseok and Yoongi snagged a room to themselves. These results resulted in one Kim Seokjin speeding up and down the hallway, wholeheartedly shouting with glee. Yoongi almost crumpled to the ground in relief at the end, and Hoseok fell over in laughter when he entered the full room. You could feel the desperation in Namjoon’s muffled voice as he begged Seokjin to let him change rooms. The only reply he received was an ominous “If you behave.” 

“Don’t blame us,” Yoongi laughed out, both hands lightly gripping the arms of the rocking chair he chose. “This is what you young people get for trying to be cute.” His relief from only having to bunk with one other person left him chipper, you noticed. To his credit, it was amusing that the youngest four ended up in the same room. 

“Okay, gramps,” Jungkook snapped, earning a laugh from Jimin on the seat next to him. “But she definitely gave hyung clues!” 

You whipped your head around to shoot a confused look toward your accuser. “Me?” 

Multiple eyes darted between you two like pinballs, and you didn’t have time to brace for his next words,

“You know you won’t see him again after this trip, so you—” 

“—Kook!” 

All oxygen abandoned you as Jimin rushed to shut the younger man’s mouth, practically slapping his face. Eyes popped out of his head as Jungkook paled in realization. 

The rest of the boys bore glares into the youngest one’s countenance, but Seokjin turned directly towards you with concern. 

What just happened? Your fingers gripped the varnished wood of your chair as you slowly locked eyes with your ex, and your heart dropped like a stone when he shifted his gaze to the floor. 

What the fuck was happening? Your brain was going haywire. What did Jungkook mean? You wouldn’t see Seokjin after this trip? The man that you couldn’t wait to see on the last Friday of every November? That was bogus. He was joking. It was a joke, right? One more weekend before Seokjin was gone from your life forever? Impossible. Ludicrous.

Why wasn’t anyone saying anything? 

Beside you, Rin clutched one of your tense fists in her soft palms. Addressing the group, her sharp tone demanded an answer when she asked, “What the hell is going on?” 

The silence that followed was palpable. Not even the pleasant music drifting through the lodge was enough to damper the tension. 

“I think,” Yoongi finally murmured, his words ice, “This is our cue to leave.”  

“No need,” your friend snipped, “We’ll go.” She whispered your name before softly tugging you to vacate your seat. 

When you pried yourself from the cushion, it took a moment for you to control your legs to actually move. You knew all the guys were watching you, but you were too embarrassed to acknowledge them, too upset to look any of them in the eye. 

Rin led you away from the lounge, making sure you were heading toward the nearest staircase before spinning on her heel. “To the unfortunate soul that gets to explain this to me,” she bit, clutching everyone’s attention in her underlying threat, “Text me where to meet you in ten minutes.” 

Both you and Rin occupied the carpet, backs against the cookie cutter sofa that existed in each room. 

You two pushed the furniture around so that the couch faced the windows instead of the plain TV, and you surprised your friend by dumping yourself onto the ground instead of the cushions. Rin didn’t question you, though. She only followed suit. 

The curtains were shoved to the side to reveal the relentless storm, and you watched the swirls and streaks of white until your head fell onto Rin’s shoulder. 

“I should’ve been paying attention to you,” she murmured, “I’m sorry.”

You shook your head, the motion feeling awkward in its tilt. “No, no. You’ve been having a fun time, so I’m happy I didn’t ruin that.” Your laugh was dry. “Until now, at least.”

Rin lowered her shoulder so that you rested more comfortably. “How are you feeling?” 

“Like I’m going through a breakup again.”

Fuck. You didn’t realize until the words left your lips that it’s how you really felt. 

It had been a few years since you guys ended things. Throughout that whole time, you didn’t feel awkward one bit.  

Well, that wasn’t entirely true. The “date” that Seokjin brought to the Christmas party last year made you want to tear your hair out. But, that was because she was obviously after his finances and that was the year you realized you loved him. 

The conversation you had with Seokjin turned sour, but you really wanted him to see the big picture. You could still recall that night with clarity, the snow falling much lighter than what you currently witnessed outside. 

“Seokjin, do you honestly think she likes you?” The red dress you wore was so vibrant that it glinted off the dinnerware spread across the decadent table nearby. 

When you pulled your ex aside that night, the only quiet place you could find was the dining room, long abandoned once everyone got their seconds. Up until this point, it was obvious Seokjin wasn’t understanding you. You tried to tell him how you saw it, and he would just brush things aside. 

“You sound like you care more than I do,” he accused, his eyes looking everywhere but your face.

Before you responded, you scoffed. “I’m your friend. Of course I’m going to care.” 

You remember the strong emotions you suppressed that night. You couldn’t let more things slip than necessary. Yes, you could show him you cared. Yes, you could show him he needed someone else. Just as long as you didn’t give too much of your own feelings for him away. “You deserve someone that at least likes you, for you.” 

Seokjin finally stared back at your stormy features, his eyes filled with something unsaid. You sucked in a breath. What else would he say? You liked him for everything he was, but that relationship didn’t pan out. Obviously. You would’ve been going to this Christmas party together if you still dated. 

Maybe you shouldn’t have been having that conversation - it was already hard enough for you to say you were his friend. You wanted to be more than that. Again. 

“I know she doesn’t like me,” he finally admitted, running a hand through his bangs. The urge to caress his ever soft strands filled you with grief. 

You really did like his hair, and it looked even better when coupled with his Nutcracker-esque attire. 

“Then why…” You struggled to find a reason why they were even there together. It was a Christmas party with your friends. Why would he bring someone that he didn’t like? 

“She’s interested in Namjoon.” Seokjin’s eyes quickly turned into crescents when he witnessed your expression, and his full lips pursed to contain his laughter. “I was trying to get her off me the whole night, but she was trying harder than she needed to to make him jealous. I’m irresistible, you know.” 

“Irritable is more like it,” you growled, playfully shoving him aside. “Ass! I was just trying to protect you and you knew this whole time!” 

“It’s nice to know you’re looking out for me!” The man beamed as he made his way out of the dining room. 

“Yeah, well,” you whispered, tensing slightly when he stopped. “They have to be perfect. It’s what you deserve.” And you really did mean that.  

Seokjin’s smile faltered, and you shot him a half-smile before exiting the room yourself. 

That was the last time you guys had an argument, if you could even call it that. The rest of the moments you had with him were completely fine. You wondered if Seokjin could see through you during that conversation. He was perceptive, sure, but you may have gotten away with looking like just a good friend. 

It was just worrisome since you couldn’t control your emotions that night. You only got to see him in person during these November trips and Christmas parties when you went home, after all. Seeing him again after realizing you loved him ignited something within you, and it took the whole night to put that fire out.

This looming news just felt way too heavy to handle. Was it because you reached where the sidewalk ended? You weren’t going to see his face in person or hear his laugh out loud. There wasn’t going to be off-the-cuff, awful dad jokes thrown your way every end of November. 

A nagging idea, far in the depths of your mind, kept tapping your shoulder. But you brushed it off with a scowl. 

Even if you acknowledged the concept, there was no way Seokjin felt the same about you. Neither one of you said you loved each other throughout the time you were dating. Were there times you thought you did? Admittedly, yes. Did you ever think about telling him? Another yes. But he never hinted that he felt the same, so it would’ve been awkward for you if it turned out he didn’t. The absence of a confession kept you from revealing yours. So of course even now, you couldn’t tell him. Especially since he was apparently leaving.

Rin didn’t speak for awhile, but you knew she wasn’t the best at comforting people. She was number one at standing up for you and protecting you, but when it came to the softer parts of consoling, she did flounder. Which was endearing and calming in itself.

“How can I help,” she simply offered, and you nuzzled further into her neck. She always smelled so nice, your guardian Rin.

The adrenaline from Jungkook’s bombshell, your swift exit, and the constant stream of thoughts started to wane. Exhaustion slowly took its place like honey sliding into a jar. Softly, your eyelids drooped and you whispered, “This room is a castle, so be my big bad dragon and don’t let anyone in.” 

The last sound you heard before falling asleep was a tinkling laugh followed by a small “As you wish, princess.” 

When you regained consciousness, you discovered that you were strewn across one of the beds instead of the ground. You couldn’t even estimate how much time passed while you were out, but the storm outside was still thrashing and the only light in the room was the emergency one by the door. 

You groggily propped up weary limbs in search of your phone, eventually swiping it from the nightstand. Still half-asleep, you barely registered the pain meds and glass of water sitting on that same table, their dark silhouettes waiting patiently. 

Bright pixels mocked your drool-covered chin. Scrunching your face instinctively, you scrolled through your notifications while blinking sleep from your lashes. You received multiple texts, but you didn’t want to open the threads completely, so you opted to check them from the Home screen. 

Jiminie [7:20pm]: Fuck, I’m sorry that happened. Please be okay. Love you.

Tae [7:21pm]: free hugs whenever you need. you know the drill. 

Rin-Rin [7:36pm]: I know you said not to let anyone in but I literally couldn’t carry you to the bed. Forgive me!

Yoongi [7:37pm]: He’s in his room. I kept telling him to tell you. I know it’s shit to find out this way so if he doesn’t explain things to you, I will. 

Hobi [7:39pm]: we’re here for u love!! let me know if u need anything. there’s a small concession stand downstairs so if u need smth i can run it up!!

Jiminie [7:40pm]: Kook is in bad shape. He swore he thought hyung told you already. Don’t worry tho. I’m not letting him off easy.

Rin-Rin [7:43pm]: Hey, love. Just spoke to Seokjin. I think you need to talk to him yourself, but only if you feel up for it. 

Joonie [7:45pm]: I gave Rin a bottle of pain meds we had in our room 

Joonie [7:45pm]: Go ahead and take some when you wake up

Joonie [7:45pm]: We can count this as an emergency

Jiminie [8:21pm]: Let me know if you’re okay, okay?

Kook [8:33pm]: I’m so sorry 

Rin-Rin [8:48pm]: Grabbing us some snacks from downstairs, I’ll brb. 

Your battered heart sank even more when you noticed a distinct absence amongst the names. Seokjin didn’t send you a single message. 

What had gotten into him? Did he still not want to talk to you despite you knowing his secret? You clicked your phone shut without opening any of the messages and sunk into the pillows. It was 8:49pm, so you had barely missed Rin’s departure. Her exit was probably what woke you. 

Unwittingly, you found your device in front of your baggy eyes again, berating yourself for hovering over Seokjin’s thread. The last text he sent stared back at you in a mocking set of pixels. 

Kim JokeJin [Thursday, 9:23pm]: Let’s make this one the best one! 

With the previous context, this was just a regular message about the yearly trip. With the right context, these words tied your throat in a knot.  

You were sure you loved him, but what you were feeling now was even stronger. If you were honest with yourself, you would say that this is what yearning truly felt like, what something deeper than love felt like. 

But you were a fool and a liar, so you convinced yourself it was only because you wouldn’t see him again. 

As soon as you were about to give up and lock your phone, the thread updated with a new text from Seokjin, and you stilled. 

Kim JokeJin [8:51pm]: You’re probably still asleep, so I don’t want to wake you. 

You immediately clicked on his message, your anxiousness protected by the absence of Read receipts. The typing bubble kept popping in and out of the screen and, with bated breath, you waited to see if a second text slid into the thread. A hard exhale whooshed from your throat when the second message came through. 

Kim JokeJin [8:53pm]: But I owe you an explanation so come up when you can. 

Fingers locked your phone in an instant when the door creaked on its hinges. Rin entered with an armful of chips and various candy bars, and as you started to get up, she tutted.  

“Sit down, lady.” Packages crinkled as she dumped them onto your covered legs in a processed, sweet and salty heap. “Did you take the medicine?” 

You shook your head, very sure that you looked like a cranky Troll doll. 

“Go ahead and eat something really quick so the medicine will work. When you’re awake enough…” Rin’s voice trailed off, but you filled in the blanks yourself. Go talk to him was what she wanted to say. 

“Can’t you just tell me what he said?” You were hopeful that Rin would save you the pain of confronting Seokjin yourself. In reality, she denied your request. 

“Not this time,” she murmured, “This is something that needs to come from him.” 

You figured as much, but it didn’t hurt to try getting out of it. It was a conversation that you both wanted and dreaded to have. Under your goosebumps, your bones trembled.

If you were frightened by the mere gist of it, how were you going to react to the real thing?

The reality was that you needed the closure Seokjin was offering. You didn’t think this vacation - or your friendship, for that matter - could regain normalcy until you had this talk. “Sorry I ruined this trip,” you whispered, playing with a corner of the closest bag of chips. 

“I’m sorry, is your name ‘Jungkook?’” Rin laughed. “I’m kidding. It’s not ruined. At the very least, it’s salvageable. Maybe.”

“You should be a weather girl with these confident forecasts,” you joked, coaxing a laugh from your friend. You offered a small smile in return, but your heart wasn’t in it. She kinda forgot that this is the last trip you guys would have with Seokjin. If anything, it was doomed from the start. 

Little striations ran across the door greeting you, shallow cuts skirting up and down the frame. You roved your eyes over the rough texture; contemplative, lost in the mahogany brown expanse. 

If only you were a sturdy tree. You wouldn’t have to worry about any hard conversations in life. All you would’ve had to worry about was possibly becoming a rickety chair for a spoiled brat, or one of Namjoon’s tables that he would eventually damage and lament over. 

With a breath, you finally knocked. 

It didn’t take long for Seokjin’s freshly showered form to answer, and when you saw him dressed down to a plain white shirt and black pants, you quickly shifted your eyes to the floor. Didn’t he know that outfit was your favorite? Your weakness? 

“Hey,” you simply said. “I’m awake now.” 

He nodded and let you in, the door closing with a soft click. When you crossed the room, you stopped in front of the couch, anticipation already caking onto your clothes. There wasn’t much to say on your end, you figured, so Seokjin had to take the lead. 

Instead of launching into topic, he walked towards you and grabbed a bottle from his nightstand. “Do you want some water?” 

You could only stare at the plastic in question. “Did I come here for water, Seokjin?” 

There was a heavy pause before the man planted his offering on the nightstand. “No.” Sitting on the longer side of his bed, he clasped his hands together, blank eyes glued to the floor. “Jungkook is right. I won’t be able to go on these trips anymore.” 

“Why?” 

“I, umm,” Seokjin answered, his words fumbling, “I kinda got into Harvard Medical School.” 

“What?” Your anxiousness was forgotten as you gawked at him. That was what he was holding back from you? All this time? That amazing, fantastic, crazy news? Without thinking, you bounded toward him and crushed him in a hug, careful to not push him back onto the bed. “Seokjin! This is what you couldn’t tell me?” 

His arms remained at his sides. When he responded, his explanation bounced onto your shoulder, “I literally won’t have a life once I start. None of you will be able to see this face, isn’t that enough to be sad about?” 

Another moment of weakness came over you, and instead of overcoming it, you gave in. Your arms tightened around him and you whispered, “No, I’m so happy for you. You’ve worked so hard…” 

There were bags under his eyes for a reason. You knew the nights he got three hours of sleep far outweighed the nights he got more than that. The reason you two didn’t get to see each other was his relentless studying and discipline, and you didn’t want him to have to choose between you and a future career. You both were way too young for those rash decisions. 

It was with this memory that you were reminded of why you broke up: you wanted him to focus on his goals and you would do the same. “Really, I’m so proud of you.” 

Why you hadn’t let go of him at that point was a mystery to you, but you couldn’t seem to stop. The feel of his body against yours consumed you, held you captive even if his arms didn’t. 

But after a moment, you felt strong limbs wrap around your sides and emotion wrap around your throat. 

You don’t remember the last time you two truly embraced. It was a given that the last time you did, you were both completely different people. Both so young. Both so naive.

“Thank you,” Seokjin breathed, his head finally a beautiful burden on your shoulder, “But there’s more.” 

Tension froze your veins, taking the color from your complexion. Of course there was more. There was no way that was the big reveal, even though it was a monster in itself. “Oh,” was all you managed to squeak out. 

Seokjin’s arms gently pushed your body away so that he could look you in the eyes. You already missed his stronghold, but you listened as he spoke. “My parents want me to go back home. To Korea.” 

You blinked. “Even though you got into Harvard?” 

“No, no, after that,” Seokjin expressed with a level of confidence only he could achieve. Like it was inconceivable that he wouldn’t get his doctorate. He then searched your face, the pause holding weight. “So, I don’t know if I’ll see you guys again.” 

The wind howled outside and you shivered as if you were standing out there in the cold. There was so much that you wanted to say, but all the thoughts you had in your head melded together into sludge. Words struggled to leave your mouth. Nothing processed correctly in your brain. 

Seokjin wasn’t joking - not this time. He really was going to be swamped in work and work and more work. Even the holidays were going to be crammed, and you were sure he wanted to use those rare rest periods solely to recharge. 

Yes, he would still be able to text and call everyone, but that would be the extent of communication. He wasn’t big on social media. Even if he was, there would certainly be a dip in his activity now. 

Just like you felt earlier, you really did feel like you were going through a breakup again. Only this time, the last remains of your relationship were at stake. 

You didn’t want that. 

“We’d still be friends,” you weakly offered, wondering if you were just saying that to convince yourself. 

An empty chuckle startled you, and when you looked at Jin, he directed an empty gaze toward his nightstand’s lamp. “Yeah… We’d still be friends,” he repeated, and the way he said that made your shoulders sag. It was almost as if he didn’t believe you. 

“But Seokjin… You should be so happy. I mean, you’re incredible,” you whispered, a heavy feeling weighing down your chest.

“What if I’m not?” 

You sucked in a breath, suddenly not knowing what to do. Was he saying that hypothetically? No. There wouldn’t be a reason for him to ask if he truly was. 

How were you supposed to respond to that? Being a doctor was his goal - you were sure of it. If he got accepted into Harvard of all places, then his future glimmered as bright as his charm. “What do you mean,” was what you decided to say. Because you needed more from him than that. 

“You said I should be happy. What if I’m not?” 

“This is what you’ve been working towards your whole life!” It didn’t make any sense. None of this was making any sense. Who wasn’t happy that they got accepted to one of the most prestigious medical programs in the world? “You did everything you could, and now you have something to show for it! We even broke up over this. And that’s fine,” you quickly added at the end. You didn’t want Seokjin to feel bad for that at all. 

“What I’m trying to say is,” you continued, wanting to get every logical word out before more irrational ones escaped. “You’ve gotten everything you wanted. You deserve to be happy.” 

You could feel the doors of your heart scraping shut. Even if you wanted to try to be with him again, you would have to give up on that dream. There was no way it was going to work if it didn’t pan out last time. 

Fists clenched, you hated how your heart gravitated towards Seokjin on this damn trip, loathed how your brain produced its own highlight reel. Somehow, they both knew this was the end before you did. 

“I don’t have everything I want, but you’re right. I’ll be happy.” He sounded bitter. Why did he sound so bitter?

“What more could you want,” you blurted, the question materializing between the two of you in bold letters. You were just getting frustrated at this point. 

This was his dream. The ultimate goal. The one thing he wanted out of life.

“It doesn’t matter.” 

“It does to me.”

“Well, it’s none of your concern.”

“I don’t care if it is or not.”

“You really want to know?” Seokjin shot off the bed, immediately towering over your small stature. As your eyes reached his face, you watched as his lips twisted, your shocked features taking in his frustration. “It’s… It’s love, okay? That might sound weird to you, but I’ve realized that all of this is pointless without it. That’s what I’m missing. I want to love again.” He shoved a hand through his hair, his forehead slightly wrinkling under duress. 

The first thing that threw you off was the mere mention of the word. That was so brave of him to even bring it up. With you, of all people: someone he’s dated before. It must have taken so much courage for him to admit that. 

But there was another word in there that stood out amongst all the others.

Again. He said again. Did he love someone before? He couldn’t have been referring to what you guys had. You never once said those words to each other while you dated. So who was he thinking of? And why did it hurt to know that he had loved before and it wasn’t you? 

“I didn’t know you wanted that,” you replied, your voice painfully small. “But I don’t think it’s weird.”

You wanted nothing more than to just confess to him already, but you had no clue what he would say if he didn’t want something with you. The moment escaped like a thief in the night.

“Ah, well, if you knew the whole story,” Seokjin sighed, his breath shaky, “You would definitely think it’s stupid.”

“Why did it end the first time?” You wanted to get to the bottom of it. Maybe through his explanation, you could find something salvageable. You cared about him - so damn much. Seeing him in a state of utter helplessness seized your heart and gripped it tight. “With the one you… you loved. What happened?”

Seokjin’s indiscernible stare pierced through your soul, his silence screaming that he didn’t want to talk about it. 

And you understood his reluctance. The list of activities to do with an ex didn’t include this as an option, either. 

You felt the steely aftertaste of guilt on your tongue. Maybe he wanted you to just leave him alone already. Besides, you already pushed him to tell a multitude of truths that night. Asking him about a past love life was most likely crossing the line. “I’m sorry,” you apologized, uprooting yourself from your spot to leave. “You don’t have to tell me. I’ll leave you alone.” 

You made it three steps before Seokjin responded, “She decided to end it.” 

A vice clamped your chest. You stood in your new spot closer to the door, eyes boring into the floor. “Even though you were in love?” 

That must have been awful. If you loved him when you two broke it off, it would have absolutely hurt. Very much like what was happening to you now, in fact. Because fuck, were you absolutely disintegrating like a paper on fire. 

“I don’t think she loved me,” Seokjin disclosed, his words tightening the clasp around your lungs. “But I loved her.” 

“I’m so sorry, Seokjin.” Tears brimmed across your eyes, but you didn’t want him to see you break. You thrummed with so many emotions in that moment, swept by the current of his words, his heavy tribulations.

He loved someone in the past. You loved him in the present. If only you both harbored a love for each other in at least one point in your lives. 

“That must have been hard.”

“It wasn’t, for the most part.” His brittle words crumbled as they appeared. “I saw it coming.”

You chewed on your lip. Seokjin’s confessions were so full of pain - the amount of love he had for this person was obvious. Looking back on your relationship, you remember your split being mutual. It was mutual, right? There weren't any feelings involved. Whichever other situation Seokjin was referring to had to be sometime after you. 

Maybe it was someone during his college days. But wouldn’t you have at least heard about them through the friend circle? Their name must have just left your mind. You knew Seokjin flirted a lot but he needed to be serious to really start a relationship. This one just sounded tragic. 

“I don’t know what to say,” you admitted sincerely, your chest about ready to collapse, “Other than don’t give up. You can do it. Love again.” The joints in your knees threatened to give out. Telling the one you loved that he could find someone again was too much. Too, too much.

“Ah, yeah. Well.” Seokjin turned away from you in a shrug. Even the back of his profile was perfect. “Thanks for being a good, uh, friend.” 

Friend. Could you teleport to your room and stay there? You couldn’t be the one to give him what he wanted, especially since he was about to be gone for a very long time. No matter how much you wanted to. Oh, how you wanted to. 

You swung around to face the door once again. Critical words almost freed themselves from your lips, but you held them back, swallowed them down. “I’ll always be your friend.” 

Head storming, you commended yourself for keeping your voice level. The tears were able to recede - which relieved you, since you wanted to make it through the rest of the conversation with dry eyes. With one tiny head shake, you whispered, “Let’s get some sleep, okay? I don’t want us to ruin the rest of this trip. Like you said before, we have to make it the best one.” 

Seokjin got up and made his way over to you, and you turned around with a fresh face once you knew he was close enough. The smile he wore was manufactured, but you didn’t want to pry. Instead, you repeated your advice as you both approached his door. Because you wanted him to understand. “Seriously. Don’t give up, you hear me?” 

“Don’t give up,” he echoed as he pulled on the handle, like you were just giving him directions. He stilled for a moment in deep concentration before looking your way. Dark eyes bore into yours and you could almost hear them speak, but he gave one final nod and vowed, “Okay.” 

Little striations met you again when you gave Seokjin’s closed room one last look, and you swore they regarded you with pity. Finally breaking, you let your tears fall the whole way back to your floor, wishing to be made into a sturdy tree in your next life so you never had to feel that way again. 

The next morning found all nine friends situated in various places around Seokjin’s room. You thought it amusing that the boys never really settled for normal seats, always choosing a table or windowsill perch instead. As an avid fan of the floor yourself, apparently, you were once again plopped on the ground in front of the sofa. Only this time, you weren’t drowning in the depths of your past.  

“Looks like the snow piled up high last night, so we might not be able to use the cars,” Namjoon observed after his long fingers created a tiny crack in the curtains. His argyle sweater blended in with the burgundy fabric and the sight put a small smile on your face. 

The action surprised you since you spent the whole night swathed in a blanket of regret, your arms caging your ribs in an attempt to stopper your bleeding heart. If only you were so bold as to allow a confession to fall from your lips. Three words to solve two peoples’ problems.  

But the risk involved was too high. The hurt following an unrequited love confession would haunt you through every sunrise and sunset. 

Jungkook’s exasperated voice sliced through your thoughts. “What are we gonna do then?” You glanced at him right as he threw himself onto Seokjin’s bed, bouncing the other two occupants  like buoys amongst waves. 

“What we can do: stay in,” Yoongi responded while repositioning himself against the headboard. 

Taehyung’s sigh mingled with Rin’s tsking noise, Jungkook’s deeper groan almost in harmony with the both of them. Their melancholic concerto almost pulled a laugh out of you, but the next suggestion came from Hoseok, “I brought some board games we could play. Cards, too.” 

Seokjin quickly shot him a look. “You don’t play board games. Or games. Or cards. Actually, what do you do?” 

“I look after all of you.” Hoseok’s head always bobbed when he spoke to accentuate his points. “Hence why I brought board games and cards just in case!” 

You couldn’t refute the man’s claims, either. Hoseok always made sure everyone packed what they needed before trips but brought extra stuff in the event that the group needed something else. Helping was just part of his nature. Yesterday was one example. Rin got the snacks last night, but you were sure he would have woken up at any point in time to be your comfort food delivery man. If being a leader were a sport, Hoseok would be the dark horse that you never saw coming until they finished first. Then you couldn’t deny their talent and skill. 

Taehyung didn’t let the dark horse live, though. “Thanks, hyung. Did you pack a snowblower, too?” 

Rin’s laugh could always be heard amongst your friends, but not because she was a girl. Hers was just so distinct and heartwarming, like a cozy throw or the thought of cookies in the oven. It was only slightly better than Jimin’s. 

Speaking of which: Jimin was eerily quiet throughout the whole meeting, his gaze lingering on you more than once. You noticed it ever since you burst into Seokjin’s room and lauded the man’s scholastic advancement. Which couldn’t be helped. No matter how painful last night’s conversation was, you still wanted him to know how proud you were. After all, a person could be sporting a dagger through their heart but still have love to give.  

You didn’t know why Jimin was acting strange. The big secret was unveiled but you would come to terms with it. Was he afraid of how you would be feeling? Or was he just sympathizing with you because he assumed you weren’t exactly fine? Talking to him later to iron things out was going to be essential. The multiple glances he threw your way proved too much.  

“I have a pamphlet we can look through,” you responded, waving it in the air like a white flag. The decision to bring it just in case proved to be the right one, even if Rin threw a small fit from having to fumble through her bag for the room key again. Warmth from the thick hoodie swallowing both your body and your bent legs validated the first time you went back into your room. 

Rin stuck her tongue out at you but smiled right after in her best Sour Patch Kid impression. Cute. You breathily laughed before unfolding the flimsy paper. Shifting your eyes along the colorful pages, you started listing out the lodge activities. “Okay, so we have… Kayaking: no. Lake yoga: no. Mountain biking: no…” 

Even though the lodge boasted a huge amount of things to do, the majority of them required there to not be four billion inches of snow outside. Only a few remained, and majority rules determined ski slopes the winner. 

The only issue with the slopes was that they only allowed groups of three at a time. To remedy this, groups were formed and a rotation was set based on a heated tournament of rock-paper-scissors. And while Hoseok didn’t play board games, cards, or even video games, he seemed to be a pro at that. 

He picked Seokjin and Yoongi for his group, and they were going out first, to the eldest’s horror. You saw his anxiousness coming from miles out - tackling snow with one board was much more up his alley than tackling it with two. 

Next, Jungkook chose Namjoon and Jimin since he wanted to somehow “win” on the slopes. They gave him much grief for that. 

And that left you with Rin and Taehyung, but they wanted to check out the spa area first, so your group was going to catch up later. 

Which wasn’t ideal for you. You wanted to watch Seokjin ski. Or really, you just wanted to see him as much as possible before the trip ended. Seok in his presence, like he said. Maybe being pruny in this case was a beautiful thing. 

Room Service knocking on the door interrupted your thoughts, and Jimin let them in to serve the breakfast Seokjin ordered for everyone prior. While the dishes were distributed, the group was already firing bets and insults and digs at each other as if a clear winner would emerge outside. And you welcomed every bit of their energy. Chewing on food while basking in everyone’s competitive nature was enough of a distraction from your woes. At least, until you caught Jimin deep in thought again.

The spa was decent, so you three ended up staying for almost an hour. Both the sauna and facial massage served to ease the thick layer of tenseness under your skin. If only you could transport yourself into a cloud of steam every time you thought about Seokjin. Maybe that would’ve helped with the anxiousness and guilt you felt every time you thought about confessing. 

And you were grateful for Taehyung tagging along because he really did offer free hugs often. Even while Rin scanned over the receipt for everything you guys did, the man slung a lean arm around your shoulders. 

His voice glided over your hair when he leaned in to ask, “How did it go last night?” 

You sighed before responding, debating on how to answer him. You decided to take the easy route. “Good. Better than I expected. I just can’t believe it took him that long to tell me! I was so worried this whole time.” 

Taehyung squeezed you gently. “Finally. We kept telling him to just admit it already.” 

Rin was in the middle of paying when you smiled. Her hair gleamed in the incandescents, and you reached out to touch it as you admitted, “It’s just weird that he wanted to hide that from me.” 

“Well, you’re his ex, so he thought it would’ve been awkward.” 

A laugh shot out of you, and Taehyung gave you a look. “Seokjin’s so strange. He knows I’ve been rooting for him this whole time. I mean, Harvard? That’s incredible.” 

Normally, friends would converse about achievements and be sincerely happy about them. But something else happened in that moment that set alarm bells off in your head. Whether it was Rin becoming a block of ice in front of you, or Taehyung slowly peeling his arm off of your shoulders, you suddenly got a feeling that something wasn’t right.  

When Rin spun around to face you, the expression painted on her face reminded you of those Renaissance pieces you saw during one museum date with your ex. Her eyebrows artfully scrunched; her full lips twisted. Was she on the side of the angels, battling demons? Going to war? 

No, she was just trying to clarify something. “He didn’t say anything else?” 

You gulped. “I mean, yeah?”

“What did he say?” Taehyung furrowed his dark brows, his own face a work of art in itself. 

“That his parents are making him move back to Korea when he’s done with his doctorate,” you revealed, suspicious of the both of them and Seokjin now. You kept your tone level to hide any emotions under the surface. “Why, is there more?” 

Once again, you were swept under the wave of confusion. The waters there were dark and cold, and you felt like you couldn’t swim to safety this time. It was as if cotton clogged your ears and a thin film coated your vision. You didn’t even register Taehyung furiously typing on his phone while Rin led you all out of the spa’s reception area. 

“Do you want there to be more,” was all she offered before sitting you down on an earthly toned loveseat. The fluffy rug under your shoes snagged most of your attention. 

“I don’t know how to answer that, but I guess not,” you finally grunted, feeling angrier and angrier from being left in the dark again. Comparable to a disease, this dangerous feeling was taking over you, trickling into your veins drop by black drop. “Honestly, I kinda just want to go back to the room until we meet for dinner. Whatever you guys are hiding is starting to piss me off.” 

“Let’s go,” Rin agreed, urging you to get up and follow her to the room. But you shook her off. 

“I’ll go by myself.” Buzzing with anger, you shuffled through your bag to grip your key. “Just let me be alone for a bit.”

Taehyung looked absolutely livid, but he nodded along with Rin. You didn’t watch the two of them share a knowing glance as you drug your crumpling form to the stairs, hoping pieces of you didn’t crumble off before you reached your temporary bed.  

From the moment your tired bones hit your comforter, time traveled at a strange pace. You didn’t know how long you spent lying prone on the sheets, your head lolled towards the window. Watching the light snowfall outside did nothing to bring you out of your dark space. 

Being left out, confused, and feeling betrayed left you mentally drained. How long were you going to feel like this? Like you were just going to keep being lied to? Maybe you weren’t outwardly lied to, but omitting something was still considered a lie. The truth was still held captive and you couldn’t even pay it a visit. 

Rin and Taehyung reacted strongly to what you said. That had to mean whatever else Seokjin was supposed to say to you was big. You weren’t stupid. At least, that’s what you concluded. 

But what if you were this time? 

You loathed this feeling. You hated being looked at with pity. Even Rin knew what was left unsaid this time, so you were truly alone in the dark. 

A dark monster within you rose to life, and you ripped yourself from the sheets. Snatching your coat from the couch, you jerked your arms inside, striding toward your door with purpose. A ball of fury, you were determined to march up the slopes and confront Seokjin. Everything was getting ridiculous. 

Tugging the door open, you flinched at the figure waiting on the other side. A brief moment of silence and bewilderment and worry washed over you, quelling a small part of your harbored anger. “What happened to you?” 

Seokjin stood in front of you wrapped in his puffy coat, hair in disarray and a small gash on his cheek. His nose was red with the cold and a small cut, and his eyes looked as if he had been holding back tears. Tears? Was he crying? Even now, it seemed like a few were threatening to fall as his gaze lowered. A ghost of a voice wafted from his mouth as he replied, “Jimin.” 

You winced. Remembering the glances the younger man gave you this morning, you should have seen a conflict brewing. Your friend wasn’t lying when he said he’d give Seokjin hell. Something must have broken out when they were on the slopes, or anytime you weren’t there with them. “Shit. I’m sorry.” 

If you didn’t have that revelation with Rin and Taehyung, you would have been absolutely thrown by Seokjin’s appearance and the cause of it. But it seemed that both groups found out what he told you last night and neither were pleased with the result. What that result was, you couldn’t determine yet. But based on your own categories, “I got into Harvard” and ���I’m moving back to Korea” fit in the Should Know box. The Deserved to Know box was still accepting applications. 

“Come in.” Your fury had to simmer on a proverbial stove for the time being. “I have a first aid kit in my bag.” 

You hurried him into the room before making a beeline for your duffle. The adrenaline built while you were fired up was still thrumming your bones like guitar strings. Nothing more was said as your bag crinkled with your rummaging, even though you wanted to just wring answers from his neck already. 

But you couldn’t. You needed a moment to collect your thoughts, both the past woes you were fighting and your current worries. 

As Jin awkwardly stood in front of your bed, you kept pondering. What the hell happened out there? How did it end up in a physical altercation? Did Jin fight back? It was already obvious Jimin initiated it, but you wondered if he sported any bruises, too. Not from Seokjin, though. Because you couldn’t ever see him throwing a punch. You were more curious about someone like Yoongi. The elder one was incredibly protective of Jin.

When you found the kit, you spun around to start tending to your ex’s face. “Bed,” you ordered, pointing towards yours with the first aid box. Your tone was harsh, but you weren’t holding it back.

The man was silent as he delicately sat on the comforter, and you instantly noticed how he refused to look at you still. 

No matter. Treating his cuts was a priority, but that didn’t mean you weren’t going to force him into confrontation right after. Seokjin wasn’t going to have a choice. 

Perching yourself next to him, you propped one leg up to steady yourself, clicking open the small kit next to you. It wasn’t as fancy as the one he carried along, but it housed the basics. Fetching some antiseptic and cotton first, you told him to turn towards you so that you could start. 

And despite your anger, your exasperation, your frustration, the hands you lifted to Seokjin’s face were nothing but calm. 

Throughout the time you dusted his cuts, you kept your gaze on his cheek, his mouth, his nose. A wall erected around you that you refused to take down. After all of the hurt Seokjin had caused, the turmoil he had put you through, it was pertinent you wouldn’t let him in. You had your soldiers’ arrows at the ready, directed right at his wounded face. 

But if you so much as flitted your gaze toward his eyes, your walls would crumble to dust. Your gates would slam open in surrender. 

Because having him this close to you after all this time was like coming home. And you harbored that feeling ever since the scent of his cologne consumed you. Your face hovered inches from his, your fingers gently pressing his features. All of the nights you yearned to be this close were so lonely and cold, and his warmth was tugging your heart by multiple strings. 

His looming absence was hitting you deeply then. If you gave in only to lose him again, the pain would surely hollow out your soul until you were a mere shell of yourself. You wanted nothing more than to sink into the mattress and slip down into the soil underneath the lodge. 

Suddenly, a hand cradled your cheek, and you shook on impact. Without thinking, you locked eyes with Jin, and it was then that you realized he was wiping hot tears from your face. 

“If I’m the reason for these,” he whispered, “I’m sorry.” 

Something strangled escaped you, and you finally caved. “You are,” you exhaled, unable to stop the tears from falling. “You really are.”

You tore yourself from the bed, instantly feeling the lingering warmth of his fingers fade. A chasm was created between you two: your chest heaving on one side and his face crumbling on the other. The mountain of thoughts and feelings you created broke down under pressure, emotions roaring down its slopes in a cathartic avalanche. “I’ve been looking like a fool this whole trip, and apparently everyone is feeling so fucking sorry for me. Why can’t you just tell me everything? What did Yoongi mean? What do I deserve to know? You told me you got into Harvard and have the audacity to say you aren’t happy? What the hell is that about? We’re supposed to be friends, so why am I feeling like you’re letting that all go?” You choked on your tears and clasped a hand over your mouth, a burn blossoming in your chest from the dry sobs. 

Seokjin’s eyes ringed with a burgeoning shade of pink, both of his pupils glossed in guilt. “I’m not… I’m not letting that go, but--”

“But what, Seokjin,” you gritted out, “Please stop and just tell me already.” 

“But I was too scared,” he admitted, “I’m still scared.” 

“Why are you scared?” The question drifted to his face, and you could tell he was struggling to answer even that one. It pained you to be this close yet so far from the answer.

“Why are you scared, Seokjin,” you whispered again, realizing that his hands were shaking. 

“Because…” You watched as he clenched them on his thighs, and he struggled to get the words out. “Because it’s going to happen again.” 

Enough with the obscurity. Frustration reached a boiling point. “What’s going to happen again?” 

“Exactly what happened last time!” Seokjin declared as his eyes pleaded with you, eyebrows furrowed and kneeling in anguish. The skin encasing his watery eyes remained that same dusty shade of affliction. 

You couldn’t for the life of you understand what he was saying, until you remembered last night. When you asked him about the time he loved before. 

Wait.

Your hand made a slow descent from your face as you matched Seokjin’s stare. A million words skittered across your eyes, transforming into liquid and sliding down your skin. You were sure you looked an absolute wreck with your tear-stained cheeks and reddened nose, but that didn’t concern you at all. The only thing you could hang onto was Jin’s words, just short of a confession. 

But you had to be sure. You weren’t settling for five words that could mean a thousand other things while arranged the same way. “The one from before,” you more stated than questioned, “Where is she now.” 

Seokjin never broke his gaze, doing an incredible job of keeping tears at the edges of his eyes. Heavy breaths caused his chest to swell with each pass. Voice low, he finally, finally caved, “She’s the one on the polaroid I have in my room.” 

The entire conversation from last night struck you like a freight train. So many realizations hit you at once and you didn’t know how your trembling legs were keeping you upright. 

It was you. He was talking about you. 

Your coat smothered your limbs like a cage, your whole being rattling inside like an animal starved. 

That was what he was truly hiding from you. That was what he had buried deep down into his chest. And you couldn’t blame him one bit after you realized it was exactly what you were holding from him, too. 

No matter the reason, you still kept your own truth hidden. It occurred to you then that you couldn’t be angry - that would just be hypocrisy. There was bravery in confession, and even more so to someone you no longer were allowed to feel that way about. 

You were the one that forced the truth out of Seokjin, and now you only felt like a coward. 

Movement in front of you snapped your vision back into focus. He was getting up to leave. Why was he leaving? 

“I knew this would happen,” he said, his voice strained. “I’ll go. I’m sorry I made you uncomfortable.” 

Oh. He assumed your silence was from guilt. Guilt that you didn’t feel the same. And he was about to walk out with that egregious misconception. What an absolute fool.

But no matter how hard you tried, the words wouldn’t budge from the back of your teeth. 

You had two choices here. One, you told him. You laid everything out and you admitted that you felt the same. Then tomorrow, he would leave your life and you may not see him again for years. And you tried this before - being in two separate schools and living different lives while holding onto your relationship. It obviously didn’t work last time, and you still saw him from time to time. This situation would be a thousand times harder. 

Which brought you to the second option: you let him go. You let him leave without telling him how you felt. Rip the bandage off right there and then. Leave him to pursue his dream, and with that the freedom to go and find someone else to love. Was that what you wanted? Was this your own sick version of loving him? All the villains in the universe would applaud you as you lied to his face while telling him not to give up. How fucking cruel would that be?

“Seokjin,” you called out, and your chest subtly heaved when he turned to stone by the door. His broad back remained still as you took a step towards him, and only after you roamed your eyes over his shoulders did you notice small movements. But he didn’t face you. It was almost as if he didn’t want to.

Agony consumed your entire being as you made your decision. 

You shut your eyes, clenched your jittering fingers into hard fists. 

“See you at the campfire,” you whispered, your voice unfamiliar even to yourself. 

The only response you got was the soft opening and closing of your door.

Compared to last night’s lion of a snow storm, tonight was but a mere cub. There were small flakes here and there taking their time to descend, and the fixtures from inside the lodge were the only light source beside the fire pit you were approaching downstairs. 

Situated in the center of your friends, the flames danced across their jovial smiles as they passed bottles around. The drinks weren’t the lodge’s, but the ones you all brought and snuck out of the rooms - the telltale green glass was enough of a hint. 

After Seokjin left, it took you a couple minutes to let everything out, and about thirty minutes crying into Rin’s shoulder once she witnessed your crumpled form on the floor. She listened to your recap of the conversation and Jin’s final secret, and through broken sobs you told her you couldn’t tell him yours. When she asked why, you told her your reasoning. When she called you an idiot, you wholeheartedly agreed and cried even harder. 

But you still stuck with your decision. It was for the best. You loved him so much that you wanted what was best for him, and that was to let you go. 

“Promise me one thing,” Rin murmured, earning a nod from you. “Only go through with it if you know you won’t regret it.” 

A sharp pain sliced through you then, but you acquiesced. “I won’t.” 

She then grabbed your Polaroid from the bed. It was Namjoon’s idea to bring it to the campfire once he heard you brought it on the trip. “Are you okay with this?” 

“Yeah,” you gulped, regarding the old piece of the past with heavy eyes. Seokjin confessed to you with the help of that camera. You weren’t okay with the mere idea of touching it. “Yeah, it’s fine. I want everyone to enjoy themselves tonight, so. Yes.” 

Even if that meant you suffered. This was Seokjin’s last trip with everyone, not just you. Why keep them from making good memories just because you were a walking dark cloud?

You reached the bottom of the rickety stairs, the squeaky noises catching the attention of the boys. Most of them raised their bottles to you, but you caught Jin staring at the fire instead. 

If you got through this night in one piece, it would be a miracle.

Namjoon stood as you and Rin settled into your seats. “Okay. Since we’re all here now, I say we start.” 

As everyone gave their cheers, the eldest just looked confused. “Start what?”

“Something for you,” Yoongi explained, his body already comfortable in his Adirondack. “Since you aren’t joining us for these anymore.”

“Ah, yah,” Seokjin protested, “You don’t need to do anything—”

“Don’t lie, you already love this,” Jimin cut in, all smiles despite the companion bruises and cuts on his face to Jin’s. “Although, your opinion may change in a second.”

Jungkook paused his leg bouncing to shout, “Let hyung explain!” 

You smiled as the group settled, but noticed that Jimin was looking at you strangely. You didn’t have time to process it, though, since Namjoon headed things off while a bottle rested against his chest, “Jin-hyung. We just want you to know that we’re proud of you. Even though we may not see you for awhile, you’ll be in our hearts and on our minds. Starting tomorrow, you’re already Dr. Kim to us, so I say we all call you by name tonight.”

Laughter and claps filled the air, drowning out Seokjin’s weak protests. 

Namjoon cleared his throat to calm the air, and you watched small flakes catch in his hair as he continued, “We’ll each do two things: give you advice, and ask for advice. Since you’re clearly educated, we figured you’d have a lot to say.”

“Oh, I’m just lucky.” 

“And keep sharp, everyone. Miss Photographer over there will be taking pictures.” Namjoon nodded at you, and you gave a short smile while holding up the Polaroid. You were fine doing this; behind the lens was your safe space. 

The boys and Rin slowly got through their questions and advice, and you were shocked by how insightful Seokjin was being. You never truly realized the magnitude of his intelligence. Every person around the campfire hung on his every word, and it didn’t help that you all took a swig after every good point he made - many, many times. You diligently fired away on your camera, making sure to get Seokjin with everyone so they could all have a moment captured with him. 

When Jimin’s turn came, he shot you a glance before looking at your ex. “Jin. That sounds weird to say. Jin-hyung.” He looked at the ground before continuing, and you knew it was to compose himself. “My advice to you… Sorry,” he buried his head in his elbow for a brief moment. Yoongi looked away. 

“I kinda gave you advice already,” Jimin trudged on, “And you took it. So, my next piece of advice would be to, uh, keep going.” 

You were rooted to your chair. Seokjin didn’t spare you a single glance during that exchange, but you knew it was about you. It had to be how he ended up at your door earlier. He even said Jimin was the one responsible for his wounds. 

“Thank you, Jimin,” Jin replied. “As for my advice to you, it’s okay to let people figure things out on their own. You don’t have to put it on yourself to be the one that keeps people together. If something ends up breaking, you’re going to think it’s your fault.” 

Jimin regarded him with watery eyes before nodding and wiping his freezing tears. And when he looked your way, he saw you only looking at Seokjin. Your face was slowly cracking, and the shadows in your facade were exacerbated by the flames. 

It was your turn; everyone else went. The Polaroid felt like a boulder on your thighs.

You blinked before setting the camera down and clutching your bottle. Since Seokjin was on the other side of the fire, you had to stand to see him, your tenseness on full display. 

What could you possibly say in that moment that he wanted to hear? That he was willing to listen to? You were certain you took his heart and slammed it into the ground earlier. It would be better if you just didn’t say anything. 

“Seokjin,” you started, pausing to collect yourself. “My advice to you is to forget the advice I gave you before.” 

Several pairs of eyes looked at you then. Even Jin finally regarded you, the most aware of what you were referring to.

“What I’m trying to say is: it’s okay to give up sometimes, because not everything that you want to happen is going to happen. There will be times you will just have to let things go. And that’s okay. Because maybe letting things go would end up for the best.” 

Jimin’s eyes bore into your soul. He sat so still that it put all the statues throughout history to shame. 

Seokjin grabbed his bottle with both hands, elbows resting on his knees. “Interesting advice.” His eyes danced as they took in the warm flames. “I might even follow it.” 

Both of your lungs threatened to give out at his words. Your hands almost dropped the glass you were barely clinging to, but you never looked away from Jin. It was as if your attention was chained to his body, your soul weighed down by his earlier confession and now his possible break. 

If he followed your advice, shouldn’t you be happy? It’s what you wanted in the end, right? You would let him go, and he wouldn’t look back. 

Snow drifted onto everyone’s chairs and the fire crackled in front of you. A small breath left you in a wisp of white. Warmth did its best to help you, but the cold was too strong. No amount of fire in the world could melt your icy conscience - you truly left Seokjin in the dark. He practically admitted that he loved you, and in return you gave him nothing. Of course he would consider your advice.  

“But I like the sound of not giving up. It has a ring to it that exists beyond the sound it makes when someone says it,” he cut himself off, the silence deafening. Inside, bells rang in your head. What was he implying? Seokjin’s voice was as clear as blue skies when he continued, “So, I guess I’m stealing your advice and giving it to everyone here.” 

Your gaze shifted to the side as everyone turned towards Seokjin. This was something you weren’t prepared to digest. Settling back down into your chair, you tried to even out your breathing and neutralize your shaking fingers. 

Your feelings were warring with each other in a confusing battle. If you wanted him to follow your advice, why were you relieved when he said he liked not giving up? Did that mean you hoped he still waited for you? Years and years and years from now? 

“Take it from me: don’t give up,” he advised. “But what I mean by that is to not give up until you’re happy.” 

Guilt squeezed your eyes shut, clamping your lids down. He was going to wait. Love was the one thing he wanted to be happy. And you held your love for him tightly in your hands, behind your back and hidden from sight. 

But even still, in the midst of your silent rejection, this man wasn’t letting go. Without saying the words, Seokjin was going to wait for you. Because he still loved you. 

This was too hard. 

“To being happy,” Jimin boisterously cheered, startling everyone and causing your bones to rattle. His glass remained high in the air, and everyone joined in with their own proclamations. 

“To being happy,” you whispered alongside the others, quickly taking a swig.

Yoongi was the next one to pipe up as he declared, “Okay, now that all that’s done, let’s just drink for fuck’s sake.” 

Amongst the laughter and “thank god”s thrown about, you quickly downed the rest of your drink like it was your lifeline. You needed more than liquid courage to get through the rest of the night. The camera by your feet was snatched up by Jungkook before Taehyung could get to it, and you prayed to every higher power that they kept it in one piece. 

As everyone made their way back to their rooms, you noticed Seokjin joking and laughing with the others like normal. It was a continuation of the rest of the night, since after the advice conversation it was nothing but fun. Your Polaroid almost ran out of film, for one, but watching everyone fight over the photos was entertainment in itself. There were digs toward Jin until he turned red, jabs thrown at Jimin’s fragile emotional state, and Rin’s warm laughter coating everything in a soft glow. 

And it was a bittersweet event. There was nothing more you wanted than to capture that moment and place it in a snowglobe. The world wouldn’t interfere with your friends, and none of you would ever leave. 

Seokjin was about to head up the stairs to tuck in for the night. Full of soju and stupidity, you blurted, “Leaving already?” 

He stilled before turning toward you. “Oh. Yeah.” He regarded you with a look you couldn’t completely decipher. “Long day tomorrow.” 

“Right,” you replied, hating the sudden hollowness you felt. Or didn’t feel. 

“Well… Good night.” Seokjin tapped the banister twice before heading up, and you softly wished him good night before speedwalking to your room. You were only tipsy, so the fast trip didn’t bother you. The camera in your hands kept your center balanced the whole way back.

By some strange miracle, you kept it together the whole time after everyone’s campfire speeches. You imagined yourself as an ice sculpture, surrounded by the guests of honor. Everyone gave you a glance and thought nothing else of you. They could only see composure and poise. Only when they got closer could they see you slowly melting, rivulets of remorse cascading down your entire frame.

Rin was in the middle of her skincare routine when you entered your room. As soon as she heard your footsteps, she made a noise indicating she had something to say. The product around her mouth didn’t let her yet, though. Which meant you had to wait. 

You stood in the doorframe of the bathroom, vision spinning just a smidge. This was probably a talk you didn’t want to have, but you gave your friend her podium. It was only fair. Her serious talks were few and far between. 

But she didn’t have much to say when she finished getting ready for bed. In fact, she only said three sentences. 

“It’s 11 o’clock,” she stated plainly, her tone indicating she was done with the calmer approach. Bluntness was more her style. 

“Okay?” 

“We leave at 7 in the morning.” 

“And?” 

“It means you have eight hours to decide how you’re going to feel for the next ten years.” 

Silence. 

All you could respond with was silence. 

Dead air. Sober. You were sober now. In that moment, you may have held your breath for a century. Too many thoughts flooded your brain, from past memories at a carnival to future images of an empty apartment with a bed fit for one. 

It was stark. Blank. There wasn’t going to be a future with Seokjin, no matter what you said. 

But when Rin put it that way, would you feel better if he knew the truth? Or would you keep this idiotic stance and lock your feelings away forever? 

For the third time that night, your fingers rattled. Rin took them into her comforting palms. 

“Go,” she murmured, and she smiled as she witnessed you burst into the hall. 

Your strides were incredibly long as you hurried down the corridor. The doors blurred on either side of your vision, the pattern of the floor elongated with your fast pace. Your camera thudded into your chest over and over. Step after step after step got faster and faster as your anxiousness bubbled into your brain. The last turn before the stairs made you skid, and you rushed up the rickety steps. Your heart was thrumming, scratching at your chest to set it free. 

When you got to his door, you were certain you woke sleeping neighbors with your rapid knocking. But you couldn’t stop yourself. Nothing could possibly stop you now.

You had no plan. There wasn’t time to think. All you wanted was to see him. All you could think about was letting everything out. Eight hours. You had eight hours.

Seokjin tugged the door open, pausing mid-swing when he saw your face. He looked so beautiful. Full of warmth. Like home.

“Jinnie.” 

You didn’t mean to call him that, but you didn’t take it back. You weren’t taking anything back anymore. His eyes roamed over your features multiple times, searching for any indication that this was a dream. But it wasn’t. The words finally slipped from your lips. 

“I’m not following your advice. Or my own.” 

His eyebrows furrowed, but you pushed on. 

“I’m giving up. But I’m giving up because I can’t let you go.” When Seokjin stared at you, it was impossible to look away. 

His response came out in a rush, “What are you… what are you saying?”

“I’m saying I love you.” You huffed out a breath you didn’t know you were holding. “Damn it, I— I just love you. I love you so much it hurts.” 

A shaky exhale left you at the look on his face. The quick descent into realization formed in the corners of his eyes, tears pooled at the edges before quickly streaming down his cheeks, collecting at the crux of his chin. Glassy orbs bore straight into your soul in search of answers, of truth. And if he wanted those answers, you already admitted the biggest one, so words were easier to come by.

“I’ve felt this way ever since our trip last year,” you started, slowly inching toward the wreck of a man. Not like you fared any better with the streaks forming on your own cheeks. “And I know it’s the stupidest thing to tell you now since you’re leaving, and we failed at long distance before, but--” 

Seokjin breathed out your name, and his next words would stay imprinted in your mind forever. “I still want to try. And I’ll try as many times as you’ll let me.” 

“I know. I know that now,” you whispered. 

Passion and warmth bloomed in your chest, spiraling out into the far reaches of your limbs. Hundreds of nights imagining him accepting you again didn’t prepare you for this feeling. Nothing was holding you back; your walls came crashing down. 

You finally broke and shielded your face in your hands, and you felt sturdy arms shield you from the world. The cruel, beautiful world that brought you two together right before he disappeared from your life again. You cried, and sobbed, and wheezed. The elation from his confession only magnified the pain of his departure. 

You felt the weight of the Polaroid leave your chest as Seokjin lifted it from your neck. “Come inside,” Seokjin whispered into your hair, earning a hiccup from your chest. “Please.” 

It was only then that you noticed you were still out in the hall. A small nod from you was all he needed to guide you into his room, and your throat constricted at the bags lying open on the bed. 

Seokjin was already packing. Packing while thinking he was going to go through the same thing he went through last time. You felt absolutely sick. How could you even think of doing this to him? If there was a way to make it all up to him, you would do it. “I didn’t want to tell you before,” you confessed, burying your nose into his chest. “But that was wrong of me. You almost left without knowing. I’m so sorry.” 

Strong, lean fingers traveled through your hair as your camera was placed on a table. The heavy clunk it made reached your ears, and a whisper followed. “I didn’t want to tell you, either. You don’t need to apologize.” 

“If I told you earlier, we would’ve had more time. Now I’m just sad.”  

“Look at me.” Jin caressed the back of your head, naturally lifting your gaze. His watery eyes took yours in, and he leaned forward to kiss the top of your hair. “We still have tonight, so if we’re going to be sad, let’s wait until after.” 

“But you’re crying, too,” you observed, feeling slightly better from his words. How Seokjin was able to have that effect on you, you would never understand. 

A light huff from him made you melt. “That’s because I’m so happy,” he confessed, softly laughing again and wiping his eyes with both hands. 

He was happy. Seokjin was happy. You looked at the growing smile under his fingers, and you had no choice but to grin and join in his laughter. 

Not because it was funny. But because it was unbelievable. You were able to gift him the last piece he was missing - he was finally able to find that happiness. How were you about to deny that from him? Now it seemed unfathomable.

When you looked at his hands again, you noticed there were lingering cuts. Worry washing over you, you cradled one in your palms and asked as Seokjin looked at you, “Should I take care of this, too?” Though the man had more than enough knowledge on playground injury care, you still offered because you wanted to be there for him in any possible way.

He replied instantly, “I took care of everything. Jimin, too. You saw him being his usual self earlier.” 

“He said he’d give you hell if you didn’t talk to me on this trip. I didn’t think he would go this far, though.” You reached up to run a thumb along the small gash on Seokjin’s cheek, the blood drying into a deep red. “I’ll make him regret it later.” 

Jin leaned into your touch, causing sparks in your skin. “Don’t,” he whispered, “He’s the reason I ended up at your door.” 

You just nodded and lost yourself in the feel of his soft face. It was incredibly smooth under your fingers, even better than when you held his cheeks all those years ago. To think that this man loved you ever since then, and continued to do so until now, was unbelievable. But it was true, and no amount of words could account for how you felt about that. 

Those eyes overflowing with adoration and affection were solely for you, and diving into them felt like being immersed in sunlit waters. 

“Can I kiss you?” 

The simple question took you by surprise, but you gazed at his lips. They only looked inviting, so who were you to deny him? “Please,” you sighed, and your eyelids closed shut at his pillowy touch. 

Color sprang from your heart at his confession, but heat burst from your chest at his kiss. The moment his lips met yours, every worry wrapped around your conscience snapped in two. Vines of doubt, regret, and anxiety withered under the warmth of Seokjin’s touch. It was cleansing. Powerful. Searing. 

A hand captured the back of your neck, and Jin took advantage of your gasp by dragging his tongue around the edge of your lips, a wordless plea to let him in. You gave in immediately, leaning forward and deepening the kiss, roping his tongue and eliciting a groan. 

Heat rushed between your legs and you echoed his sound with a soft moan of your own. Unwittingly, your hands found their way to Seokjin’s chest and you reveled in the feel of him under the thin material of his shirt. Without breaking your lips from his, you skirted the cotton hem with your fingers.  

Jin knew what you wanted, and his grin against your mouth only made you flush with desire. He broke from your lips to fully remove his shirt, and seeing his bare chest wiped the air from your lungs. You could only stare as you took in the lines of his solid build, wondering how the hell he had the time to achieve that look. 

Seokjin smirked at your reaction, tossing his top and hauling the bags off his bed while you were taking time to process everything. “Do I need to charge you?” 

You shook your empty head like a zombie. Your brain was currently mush, purely focused on the way his muscles rippled and slid against the confines of his skin. “No, don’t. I didn’t bring any money with me.” 

Laughter erupted from the other side of the bed. After Seokjin placed the last bag on the floor, he straightened and clarified, “I meant plug you in. You seem to be buffering over there. Low battery?”

“Shut up and get on the bed,” you teased, shrugging off the coat you still had on. You didn’t even get to change since coming in from the campfire. 

“Shut up and get on the bed, yes,” Seokjin fired back mercilessly as he sat on the comforter. He knew exactly how to push you. Even though you laughed, you made you way over to him and stood between his legs. 

You were silent then. No matter how happy you were, his departure tomorrow was weighing on you. The time you had with him was short. 

You wanted to make the most of it. Bringing your hand up to his face, you made sure to lightly skim over his gashes before mapping the rest. You wanted to ingrain every curve, every dip, every feature into memory. Every second was precious. The polaroid you had of him would still be no match for the real thing. If only you could capture the warmth of someone and keep it frozen in time.

Sure fingers clasped your hand, and Seokjin softly pulled you closer. Your first instinct was to rush in and hug him for dear life, and he immediately did the same to you, snatching the breath from your lungs and tugging tears from your ducts. You buried your face into his neck, inhaling his familiar scent and lamenting all the time you spent worrying over the smallest things. 

“We don’t have a lot of time,” Seokjin whispered, squeezing your heart. 

“I know,” you choked. You didn’t have much else to say.

“I just want to make sure we use it to do what you want.” 

You loosened your hold on him, astonished by his consideration. The growing bulge under his pants was more than screaming his wants. You felt it ever since the first kiss. But even still, he wanted to accommodate you. Your needs before his. 

It just made you fall for him even more. 

Reaching down to skim your fingers along his cock straining against his pants, you hovered your lips over his neck. “I want you,” you whispered before descending upon the smooth expanse of skin and earning a groan. 

Without warning, Seokjin tightened his arms around you. In one smooth motion, he effortlessly lifted you to straddle his thighs. You didn’t have time to think as he followed up with grabbing your head, pulling you down for another heated kiss. Your fingers latched onto his shoulders, scraping them when he thrust his tongue into your mouth. 

“Don’t do that yet,” he grunted, and you didn’t need to ask why after feeling a twitch in his jeans. 

You obeyed for the time being, cupping his neck with both hands. When you rolled your body against his, the hard feel of his stomach made you whimper. It was when you settled back on his hardness that your eyes widened. You were sure he was aching despite his silence. Maybe you could help him out a bit. “Jinnie,” you whispered, a firm hand on his chest, “Lie back for me.” 

“I love hearing that again,” Seokjin admitted through a content smile, starting a fire across your cheeks. He leaned back after giving you another peck, and you plucked yourself from his thighs to take your shoes off. 

But time was your biggest motivator to strip most of your clothes at that moment - not just your boots. Your pants were first, followed by your sweater, and finally your shirt. The whole time, Seokjin stayed propped on his elbows, watching you intently. He couldn’t hide the adoration in his eyes even if he tried. As he watched you stand there in nothing but your set, he smiled. “You’re beautiful.” 

“Thank you,” you whispered in return. “Still not as great as you, though.” You started unbuttoning his jeans before he could defend his stance, and he lifted his lower body to help you shrug them off with his underwear. When Seokjin’s thick cock sprung free, your heart jumped at the sight. It had been so long since you felt it, tasted it, rode it. Was he thinking the same? Taking his velvety length in your hand for the first time in a long time, you felt a burst of confidence at its familiarity and his response.

“Baby,” he groaned, running a hand through his hair. “Please.” 

You didn’t need another word. At the sound of the familiar pet name, you already started hovering over his cock, admiring how pretty it was before diving in. Licking around the head, you used the slick to glide your mouth far down his shaft, rolling your hand along the bottom to coat the rest. 

Seokjin jolted at the sudden pleasure, and you felt a pang in your heart. You wanted him to remember this night. And you were much more experienced than you were before, though you would only get so much time to prove your growth. 

Coming up for air, you used your hand to gather the rest of your spit and slide it down his cock, rubbing it a few times before diving down again. The stilted, garbled noises coming from your filled mouth were even getting your own underwear soaked, but they weren’t a match for Seokjin’s. His delicious grunts and moans sent you close to the edge. They were deeper than you remembered, and he wasn’t one to shy away from showing you how turned on and pleasured he was feeling.

The prominent veins of his cock were the roads along which your tongue traveled, and you made sure to love them all in between stuffing him fully in your warm mouth. He was so big, but you wanted to take every inch, tears welling in your eyes with your efforts. 

You fought through even when you felt him rock the back of your throat. Seokjin took that moment to sit up, causing tears to leak fully down your cheeks at the deeper thrust. His hands dove into your hair, but he didn’t force your head down. Instead, they tugged you off his cock, and he gazed down lovingly at your wrecked expression. Jin’s voice dipped an octave and came out coated in sin as he asked, “Can you go a little more for me, beautiful?” 

Your body tingled on instinct. You nodded and, when he smiled, you gripped his drenched dick in your fingers before descending your mouth onto his balls. Seokjin bucked his hips forward in a jolt as you grinned, lapping at his salty skin and delighting in the tremulous groans rolling down your back. Your hand squeezed the tip of his shaft before you straightened again, taking his cock captive without pause.

“Shit,” he grunted, his long fingers diving into your hair. His hands still didn’t push you down further, oddly, so you took the initiative and plunged down yourself. 

The feel of his cock in your mouth was so familiar. It was almost second nature how easily you sucked him off, knowing when to hollow your cheeks and pull him further down the abyss of ecstasy. When to sink further and hum, ripping a delicious sound from his throat. Even when to bob and swirl your head around, effectively shutting down his ability to function. 

It was then that you chose to really bring it home. You breathed through your nose as you took more and more of him in, even after you couldn’t breathe anymore. You felt your nose hit this pubic bone, and the long moan you got from Seokjin was worth the burn in your throat. His fingers tightened around your head, but when you came up gasping for air he didn’t stop you. 

“Come here,” is all he said, tugging you up to straddle him again. A trail of saliva swung from your lips as you came up, but you paid it no mind. If anything, it added to the building lust inside your bones. Your panties were absolutely drenched by now, so dragging your core along Seokjin’s cock caused both of you to twinge. “Fuck,” he gasped, fueling your heat. 

“Jinnie, please,” you whimpered, your voice hoarse. You wanted everything from him at once. You were getting impatient, and the overwhelming time pressure was stressing you the hell out. “I need you, please.” 

Suddenly, everything stopped as Seokjin cradled your chin and swiped the spit from your lips. “You have me,” he assured you. “You have all of me.” He kissed your nose. “And you’ll have me for a very long time.” 

Relenting, you leaned into his touch. “Now is what I’m concerned about.” 

“I know,” he agreed before kissing you again. “I just wanted you to know the rest.” 

“Okay,” you whispered before capturing his full lips with your own. When you felt him wrapping his arms around you, your heart leaped into your throat. When you felt him shift the both of you to lower you onto the bed, you already knew fresh tears were waiting behind your eyes. 

With great care, Jin slipped your underwear off your smooth legs. Your bra was deftly unhooked next - not without an eyebrow raise from you and a wink from him - and tossed from the bed. 

Staring at your naked form, Seokjin appeared completely lost in thought. It got to the point where you felt like covering yourself, but when you attempted to he swiftly denied any insecurity. “Don’t keep this from me,” he whispered. “I want to remember everything.” 

You kept it together until then. Something in you broke and you softly choked on a cry. So he was thinking the same as you. This was the last night for a long time. 

Starting from your shoulder, he kissed his way down along your neck, your collarbone, your chest. Taking one breast in one hand, he swirled his tongue around the nipple of the other. You gasped from the sudden burst of pleasure, which made Seokjin repeat the motion on the other side. He then lightly sucked on the nipple, releasing it with a small pop. 

You wanted to close your eyes and lose yourself in the waves of pleasure he was giving you, making his way down your body. But you wanted to relive this night again and again. So you had to keep your eyes on him. Only him. His mouth’s searing heat as it kissed along your stomach, and the stark cold left behind when he moved on. His soft touch as he gently pried your legs open, and dark, lust-filled eyes as he stared at your dripping entrance. You wanted to remember the way he kissed along your legs, nipping in some places to make you gasp. The way his beautiful lips connected with your heat in a reverent kiss before his tongue explored inside. Each flick of his tongue, squeeze of his fingers on your legs, noise from his lips. How you loved him through every second of him worshipping you. 

As soon as he brought his fingers up to caress your folds while sucking on your clit, you had to stop him. It was too much. You wanted to feel him when you broke. 

Seokjin wordlessly obeyed as he crawled above you. You pulled him down for a kiss, not caring how he tasted. Your hands then went to his shoulders as he positioned himself at your entrance. 

“Are you still…” 

“Yes,” you nodded, touched that he remembered. “I’m still on it.” 

“Okay.” He swooped down to capture your lips, and when you clenched your fingers around his shoulders, he grunted. “Are you okay to take it all?” 

“Go slow. For now,” you said, earning a nod. “It’s been awhile.”

Seokjin’s gaze was heavy as he prepared himself. “Same.” 

At the initial push, you whooshed out a gasp. It had been way too long since you’d been with someone. The intrusion indeed hurt. Maybe you should have let him prep you more, in hindsight. But Seokjin was nothing but tender as he waited for you to adjust. Once you were okay, he steadily pushed out and in again, going deeper. Slowly but surely, you were able to fully take him in. 

And the feel of him completely inside you was nothing like you’ve felt before. It was comfort. It was home. It was a perfect fit, and you wanted to stay like that forever. 

“God,” Seokjin groaned, “I don’t want to leave this room.” 

You chuckled, rolling your hips. “Hmm, pussy or Harvard. That’s a pretty tough one.” 

“If it’s yours, Harvard can wait,” Seokjin grunted before sending your thoughts spiraling with a huge thrust. You outright whined at him, but he pulled out only to spear you again with one long motion. “You still like it rough, baby?” 

Chills cascaded down your spine and pooled at the apex of your toes. This was the Seokjin you were waiting for. You wondered if he was still into that after witnessing everything he was doing for you beforehand. But oh, were you ready for the pivot. “Fuck, yes,” you moaned. “You know I do.” 

“You still have your word?” 

“Carousel, yes.” 

“Good girl.” That was all Seokjin needed. Grabbing the top of the headboard behind you, he launched into a rough and relentless pace that had you seeing stars. You felt so full, yet so weightless as you let your body go limp. The feel of Seokjin’s cock slamming into you repeatedly would continue to exist for months after tonight, the ridges of it sliding along your walls never forgotten entirely. You needed as much as he could give, and he knew that. 

Gripping one of your legs, he hauled it over his sweat-slicked shoulder and tilted himself to reach a deeper position, twisting his reddened face to plant kisses on your ankle. Mewl after mewl tumbled from your lips at the deep thrusts. 

“Touch yourself for me, baby,” Jin commanded while still pounding into you, and you wouldn’t dream of disobeying. Your fingers went straight for your jiggling breasts, teasing your nipples and tugging them for his blown out eyes. You moaned, and smirked when you saw Seokjin beginning to lose himself. 

His tell was his scrunched eyebrows, and his eyes shifting down to watch his cock ram into your tight cunt. You still knew, after years. 

You fell into complete ecstasy when he reached down with his free hand to rub your clit between your bodies, loving the way the veins in his arms protruded. Imagining licking along them all made you moan. And you didn’t care if the people around you heard. All of your mewls, moans, whines - they were all for Jin. He could have all of you again and again.  

After one particularly deep thrust, he tugged his cock out, leaving your walls fluttering around an agonizing emptiness. “Turn around. On your knees.” 

“Holy fuck, yes,” you rasped. He wasn’t letting the night go to waste at all. 

Before you even assumed the next position, you felt a hand come down on your ass. The smack jolted you forward in pain, with pleasure settling in its wake. 

“So pretty,” Seokjin whispered, ghosting his hand over the spot he spanked. He gave it another smack before gripping your ass cheeks apart. You assumed he was roving his eyes over your drenched core. “And still so wet.” 

“Just for you,” you affirmed. 

“Just for me,” he repeated before adjusting his knees on the bed to get closer. “But you might be too loud tonight, baby. I’m going to need silence from you this time.” 

Shit. You were never, ever good at this part. But you nodded. What you weren’t expecting right away was the initial stroke to be rough, right down to the hilt. You cried out immediately, earning you a harsh spank. 

Seokjin’s sudden laugh made you chuckle in embarrassment. He breathily joked, “Out of practice?” 

“Something like that,” you admitted, your elbows and grin lost in the sheets. “I’m rusty.” 

“Okay, let’s just do this then.” Jin leaned forward, stretching over you. You groaned at the feel of his solid chest on your soft back, your eyes rolling into your head feeling him completely mold into you for a moment. He got a fluffy pillow from the other side of the bed and let your head rest on it. “Can you bite this for me, my love?” 

The new name spread wildfire across your face. “Yes. That I can do,” you assured him. When you had the material securely in your mouth, you nodded to signal he could continue. 

“Good girl.” And continue Seokjin did. He went right back into the dominant Jin he loved being, and the one you loved being with. There was no mercy in his thrusts, stroke after stroke after stroke. If you lifted your back a little or lowered your butt, he smacked your supple flesh and corrected you instantly. “Ass up, baby.” 

With Jin’s relentless pace, your body went limp and hung on by a thread. Loosening up allowed for even more of his cock, and your muffled moans started getting louder the closer and closer you got to the edge. You could feel your core tightening, threatening to unleash the pent up tension. 

“That’s it, beautiful,” Seokjin praised, feeling your walls squeeze around him. “Do you want to come like this?”

You hastily shook your head. You wanted to see him when you came. And if you remembered correctly, he loved seeing your face when it happened, as well.

“Too bad,” he chuckled darkly, and you almost came undone right then. “Guess you’ll have to come again the way you want to later.” Reaching under you, he toyed with your clit as he kept the pace from behind. 

You let go of the pillowcase as you kicked your head back in a moan, your saliva trail slowly gravitating toward the sheets. Seokjin only let you breathe for a second before pushing your head back down into the thin material. “Make noise again and you won’t come at all.”

Fuck. You bit hard into the pillow, tears forming at the corners of your eyes as you felt yourself losing control. His fingers felt divine on your bundle of nerves, his dick sliding through your folds over and over and over. The hand he placed on your head smoothed over your hair before bunching it and tugging. You reared back, dots swimming in your vision. “God, I want to choke you. Can I do that, my love?” 

You released the pillow from your mouth again. His consideration was top notch tonight. Too much? You couldn’t decide or really care. “Yes, just do it. Do anything. Please. I’m so close.” 

“Mm. Then cover your mouth.” Before you could follow his command, Seokjin pulled you up by a shoulder to be flush against his front. Sweat coated your back and your ass, causing you to slide down his chiseled stomach while speared on his cock. A strong hand wrapped around your throat, and the fingers that were teasing your clit mercilessly now ventured into the front of your folds. 

One of your hands shot up to clamp over your mouth right before you let out a long groan. You loved when he took control, and when he lost control. If both happened at the same time, it was heaven. 

You could barely last on your knees as his dick slammed up into you repeatedly. The hand around your airway was tight but only just, his praises in your ear being the real culprit of your stolen breath. Your pussy clenched harshly around his length, and you knew from the tight coil in your body that you were seconds from euphoria. 

Seokjin felt it instantly. “Come, baby.” And as soon as he relinquished your throat did you give in, waves of pleasure coursing through you and a white burn shimmering in your lungs. It seemed endless. Ripple after ripple thrummed through your body, your joints slowly unlocking from their initial freeze. Behind you, Seokjin groaned and sang sweet nothings in your ear, his arms wrapping around your chest in a scorching embrace. 

The high ebbed, but did not completely recede. You knew Jin still needed release, so you kissed his wrist next to your shoulder and whispered, “I want to see you now.”

“Whatever you need.” Seokjin slowly unsheathed himself, and you felt a slight pain. You watched as he positioned his back on the headboard. He knew what you wanted to do. 

You made your way over to him and hovered over his length. Locking your hazy eyes with his dark set, you kissed him lazily as you languidly sank back onto him. Seokjin groaned when you didn’t use your hand as a guide beforehand. And frankly, that turned you on, too.

“You’re so tight still,” he grunted, his hands coming up and grabbing your ass before settling on your hips. 

You rolled your hips before finding a rhythm. “You’re just big,” you mock complained, earning a deep chuckle. 

“Aww. You sound. So. Sad,” he teased, thrusting up into you to punctuate each word. Your mewls were welcome now since he was done with his role. Now he could just sit back and enjoy your show for him. And occasionally torture you. 

You found your rhythm again, rougher with him now with your hands in his dark, sweaty locks. One of your hands dropped onto his chest and raked down his breast, eliciting a higher moan than normal. 

The sound caused heat to pool between your legs again, and you upped the pace. Your thighs burned from the exertion, but you kept yourself distracted by diving into Jin’s neck and nipping in multiple places. His arms left your hips to wrap around your back, and your breath faltered as he took over again. 

Seokjin was close. He was always close when his limbs locked hard into place. His upward thrusts were fast and hard, and you could only moan in his ear and take him in. The coil that released once tonight was tightening again, and you murmured in his ear that you were close. 

Seokjin only needed to kiss you like his life depended on it for you to unravel again. The wave was weaker than last time, but it could still cover mountains. Your head felt light, dancing above the clouds with no intention of coming down. You pushed yourself from his lips, allowing him to see your flushed chest and reddened cheeks. The second orgasm faded and loosened your limbs, but your heart felt completely connected to his, your soul nestled into the comfort of his tender embrace. “I love you,” you sighed, and you immediately felt a huge twitch between your folds.

“Lie down, baby. I’m close.” 

“It’s okay,” you whispered, cradling his cheek. “Come inside me, Jinnie. I wanna feel you.” 

“Shit,” he grunted. His thrusts descended into madness. Your heart rattled at the sight of his dusted red cheeks, sweaty neck, heaving chest. He was the most beautiful man you’d ever seen, and the one you would overturn stars to find should you ever lose him again. 

When he gazed down at your joined sex, you took in the wet strands of hair on his forehead. When he kicked his head back against the headboard to look at you with lidded eyes, you bit your swollen lips. This wonderful man was your lover, your ex, your friend, and now your lover again. Only this time, you truly loved him back. And you wanted to think back to this moment forever. 

Tears sprung into your eyes as he pulled you in for a searing kiss, and his orgasm released into you in spurts. The thrusts he made then were slow and powerful, and your body bobbed with the swells. You kissed him harder than necessary, almost willing to bruise your own lips on his. The longer you held his lips captive, the longer he couldn’t see your sorrow. 

But Seokjin already felt the drops ping his chest. He just let you cry because that’s what you needed. Even when he broke from the kiss, he never said a word. He trailed kisses along your wet cheeks, your sweaty nose, and your glistening forehead. His poignant visage held nothing but stars, and it reminded you of the night you fell in love, crushing your spirit ever more. 

Touch after touch after touch only coaxed more tears from your eyes. It felt never ending as you sat spent in his lap, still on his softening length. Sheer willpower was what caused you to finally speak, your voice hoarse, “We should clean up. You still need to pack and sleep.”

“We should, and I do,” he whispered. He patted your bum. “Can you get up by yourself?” 

You nodded before extracting yourself from his firm thighs, lamenting the fact that human bodies had limits. As you waddled to the bathroom, you stumbled along the way, Seokjin softly chuckled while following you and steadying you when needed. Even when you shot empty glares at him, the smile in his eyes never left. 

The rest of your time spent in his room consisted of silence and kisses. Ever the gentleman, he let you lie down on his bed while he used the other half for the bags to pack. It didn’t take him too long since he was organized from the jump, so when he was done he cleared the bed and joined you under the covers. When you felt a weight on your stomach, you looked down to see your camera dumped on the comforter. 

Seokjin wrapped a strong arm behind your neck. “What do you call naked pictures taken with a Polaroid?” 

“Oh, no.” You turned your head to face him. “What?” 

“Just pictures. But that’s old nudes.” 

You punished him by attacking his sides instantly, yanking a batch of honky laughs from him. Knowing your own weaknesses still, he unleashed his own parry, and it took a minute for the both of you to settle in a draw. 

“Don’t tell me the only reason you brought this into the bed was to tell that horrid joke,” you chuckled, your head back to resting in your pillow. 

“Nope. I wanna take one of us.” 

After getting past all seven of your objections and excuses, Seokjin whittled your walls down and got you to agree. The end product existed on the last film in your Polaroid: a crooked snapshot of him kissing your cheek as you smiled with creased eyes, sheets held against your chest. And he conceded in letting you keep it after watching you clutch it lovingly in your fingers. 

You immediately sought comfort in his embrace after setting the photo next to your phone on the nightstand, and he stole multiple kisses from you way after your eyes couldn’t stay open any longer. 

“Get some sleep, my love,” Seokjin whispered. 

And despite your sound of protest, you were pulled into the abyss of sleep right as you felt pillowy lips caress your forehead.

Rin-Rin [6:40am]: You’re lucky I love you. I packed your stuff and left out an outfit for you when you come down. Just don’t be late or I’ll drag you back down myself :)))

Jiminie [6:45am]: RISE N SHINE LOVEBIRDS

Rin-Rin [6:46am]: Oh, yeah, I may or may not have texted Jimin. 

Jiminie [6:46am]: ABOUT TIME

Jiminie [6:46am]: !!!

Tae [6:47am]: jimins scream woke me up. i can only assume that means ill get to be an uncle soon. dont let me down i want this(: 

Joonie [6:48am]: Aaaaaaaaaa !!!

Jiminie [6:48am]: And I know you want to yell at me for yesterday so I am ready for that whenever you are

Kook [6:50am]: <3 

You smiled at your texts before locking your phone. Seokjin was already up and about, making sure everything was packed and accounted for. When he saw you stirring, he came over and surprised you with a kiss so deep that it revitalized your sagging emotional state. “Morning,” you chuckled, swinging your sore legs out of the sheets and wincing at the cold. “I need to head back down.”

“Yeah, Rin already sent the first round of threats. I’ll see you at the car, okay?” 

You pecked him on the cheek after you slipped on your boots and grabbed your Polaroid.  Stepping into the hallway, you kept reminding yourself to not completely lose it yet. There was still a whole car ride you got to have with him, and you were determined to slow down time however you could. 

Your phone buzzed again, and you assumed Yoongi and Hoseok were just now waking up and getting the gossip. Checking your notifications only validated your guess.

Hobi [6:52am]: AHHHHH HAPPY FOR U~!!!

Hobi [6:52am]: ASLSKDJSKDHSKDJ

Yoongi [6:53am]: I’ll make sure to drag him back sometimes. It’s ludicrous to say that we’d never see him again. Drama queen. Anyways, happy for you. If you need anything, let me know. 

Hobi [6:53am]: we’ll see seokjinnie again love. and if u miss him a lot then we can make sure you see him. im sure he’ll be missing u too

How you were able to win the friend lottery and meet these people, you had no clue. But you weren’t going to ever question the fact. All you would do was embrace your blessings and love them. 

The car ride to the airport was long, but still much too short for your liking. Between the loving gazes you directed at Seokjin as he sang along to Taehyung’s music, the looks full of mirth Jimin gave the both of you from the backseat, and the laughter of both Rin and Taehyung, you were the happiest you’ve felt in a very long time. 

Throughout the ride, you got the feeling that you were going to be okay. Seokjin was starting an insane adventure, but you were also going to be there every step of the way. Not just on the polaroid he decided to stash in his bag, but in his heart and on his mind like Namjoon said around the fire. 

There were still plenty of ways to see each other and communicate. And since he technically didn’t start until next summer, that gave you plenty of time to see him before then. The many possibilities made you question your hesitation in the first place. 

But none of that diminished how much of a struggle it was still going to be. 

When the car rolled to a stop in the airport parking lot, your chest constricted. When everyone got their bags out of the cars and started the trek to the shuttles, your hands shook on your straps. As soon as everyone started saying their byes and separating to check into their airlines, you found it hard to breathe. 

But a tender hand brushed through your hair, and plush lips connected with your forehead. In an instant, you felt okay again. 

Seokjin’s calm voice slipped over your features. “Your flight leaves in two hours, right?” When you nodded, he continued, “Okay. Come shop with me before I have to go to my gate!” 

You tried your best to keep a positive attitude while you watched Jin peruse different airport stores. When he would hold stuff up for you to approve, you would smile or dramatically turn things down. Even the cute neck pillow he really wanted got the dreaded rejection. 

But that was only so you could pay for it when he wasn’t looking and surprise him. The huge laugh and grin you got in return was worth the trouble. 

When it was time for Seokjin to head to his gate, you brought him in for a crushing hug. “Let me know when you land,” you demanded. 

“Of course, honey,” he said through a smile. 

“‘Honey,’ now?” You regarded him with a raised eyebrow. “You have so many nicknames for me. I can’t keep up. Do you have a favorite you could stick with?” 

Seokjin rested his chin on your head. “Ah, I have a favorite. But it’s not true yet, so I shouldn’t use it.” 

A fire ignited in your heart, the flames warming you from the inside. “And which one is that?” 

“Would you look at the time!” Jin’s body heat left you in a rush as he stepped away, and your instinctual pout made him laugh outright. He cupped your chin for a kiss that rocked your whole being before pulling away. His eyes held galaxies in them when he stared into yours. “Guess you’ll have to wait for the answer to that one.” 

“You’re a jerk, Jinnie,” you huffed, but you kissed him again. “You’re lucky I love you.” 

“I really am. And I love you,” he responded. His hand came down to squeeze yours before he had to part. “I’ll let you know when I make it. Call me when you get home, okay?” 

“Okay,” you replied, and you watched his long strides with a heavy heart and a hopeful mind. 

As you told yourself again and again, you were going to be okay. It was going to be tough, it was going to be absolutely painful. But as long as you decided to keep loving each other, everything would work out. 

You knew better than anyone that love was a choice. And for Seokjin, you would choose it a thousand times over. 

And besides, the current state of technology was on your side. The possibilities of communication were too endless for you to dwell on the distance. Were there going to be days in which you only received one text? Most likely. Were there going to be weeks where you weren’t going to hear much from Seokjin at all? Definitely. But this time, unlike last time, you welcomed every bit of it. Your heart built a bridge to his that defied any sense of physical distance. On opposite sides, both of you were achieving success in your own ways. In the end, you would always come back to each other to celebrate together. Even though this was the last November trip you had with Seokjin, it was the beginning of many, many wonderful years to come.

It was later, while you were waiting for your own flight to finish boarding, that a message was sent to your phone. 

Jinnie [12:04pm]: Attachment: 1 Image

You couldn’t help but grin. As you gazed lovingly at the picture of Seokjin smiling next to your polaroid, another one came in before you could respond.

Jinnie [12:05pm]: Until you’re really next to me, this will have to do. Don’t get too jealous! 

You laughed to yourself, rolling your eyes while setting the image as your wallpaper. Locking your phone, you tapped the glass to see your screen light up, observing the picture again.

On a plane heading to another city entirely, Seokjin was doing the exact same thing. Except in his case, he was smiling down at a girl caught in mid-laughter, body aglow from the bright yellow lights of a spinning carousel behind her. 

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a/n: whewww so if you made it to the end, hi! i seriously enjoyed writing this and i learned so much. it’s my first fic and first huge one-shot, so if you have any comments/concerns/constructive feedback, please let me know! my ask box is always open, too. lastly, here is my m.list if you want to browse! 🌨🌨🌨 ++ feedback box (added nov. 25th, 2021): ⇥ of course, any reblogs/comments/messages are appreciated! ⇥ for the ones that aren’t okay with reblogging with a review, commenting on this, or sending a message, i went ahead and made another anonymous form where you can send in what you think! ⇥ no emails collected, no need to put in a username. it’s literally just a feedback dropbox :D ⇥ here!   ++ ⇥ masterlist 

#seokjin x reader #seokjin smut #seokjin x you #bts imagines #bts fanfic #seokjin angst #bts smut #bts angst #ryenwrites #member:seokjin #lastnovember #last november #ryen writes #seokjinsmut #hope you guys enjoy this one! #i know i said the 15th #but i was pretty excited #and finished the editing today! #ficswithluv #UPDATED MARCH 27TH 2021!!!

[yandere-daydreams]

Title: Palliate.

Pairing: Yandere!Witch/Reader.

Word Count: 3.7k.

TW: Emotional Manipulation, Amnesia, Obsessive Mindsets, Mentions of Violence, Blood and Bruising, Mentions of Death.

Mint, to settle your nerves.

That was the first thing he’d taught you, before you were strong enough to do anything more than sit on the edge of your bed and listen. Three leaves if you were desperate, two if you weren’t, and one if you just needed something to focus on, to take your mind off your own hazy thoughts and the places they tended to lead, when you let them wander freely. He said that was normal, that it should be expected. You’d spent so long incapacitated, it was only natural you’d be a little unsteady, once you finally got back on your feet. He said that it’d get better, over time, but you’d have to fight through it. You’d have to give yourself time to let it get better, even if there were little things you both could do to help.

The mint helped. Most of the time, at least. More than most little things did.

You tried to concentrate on the flavor, now, letting it distract you from the sun beating down on the back of your neck, from small bruises forming on your knees as you kneeled between rows of rue and sage and rosemary just far enough apart to let you tug at the weeds invading his otherwise pristine garden. It was a little odd to be outside the small cottage you’d become so closely acquainted with, even if you were only a few paces away, still hesitant to venture beyond the clearing you’d spent so much time observing while you were bedridden. You were still injured, technically, and you’d been told time and time again not to test your own limits. He said you should… You were sure you should be doing something, but—

“Didn't I ask you to rest?”

Right. That made sense.

You weren't supposed to get out of bed, just yet.

A hand came to settle on your shoulder, and reflexively, you glanced towards the man now lingering behind you. You really didn’t need to, though. His voice would’ve been enough, a calm drawl strung out into something playful, fondness coming easily and anger still a long ways off. He’d never gotten mad at you before, but the threat persisted. You didn’t want to be more of a nuisance than absolutely necessary, especially after he’d been so kind to you.

“There’s only so much sleep I can take,” You replied. You didn’t want to be a nuisance, but you didn’t want to spend the rest of your life in bed, either. “I’m starting to think that’s your only trick, uh...”

“Eden, love. Just Eden.” There was a pause, his sly smile turning sympathetic. “Is your memory acting up again?”

“It’s not as bad as it used to be.” You were telling the truth. For weeks, you’d barely been able to hold onto your own name, let alone anything about your eternally patient host. But, Eden (you tried to remind yourself of that, to make a note of it, Eden) was kind enough to give you time. You needed time. You needed patience. “I found the door, didn’t I?”

“And it’s nearly been a week since the last time you wandered into the forest,” He noted as he crouched at your side, earning a small, offended noise and an elbow to his bicep, just forceful enough to warrant a hum, a slight pout, something between a whine and a chuckle. You didn’t want to stare, but you let yourself watch as his expression softened, as his gazed flickered towards the sprout of basil at your feet and a shock of white hair fell over his eyes. He looked like he was going to reach towards you, like he was going to touch you, but he stopped himself, letting his hand slip down to the satchel at his waist, instead, calloused fingers running over the well-worn leather.

You wondered what he kept in it, sometimes. You’d never seen him without it, not willingly, and he spent so long in the forest every day, he kept himself so busy with so many traps and snares and spots of ink littered across hand-drawn maps, it would’ve been impossibly to guess what he thought was worth keeping by his side. He brought enough of it back, bundles of assorted feathers and glass jars full of golden pollen and other things, stranger things, things you could barely catch a glimpse of before they were shoved to the backs of cabinets and forgotten about, on your end, at least. Eden didn’t forget about such important things as quickly as you did.

“It’ll get better,” He went on, finally, just when you thought he’d stopped talking altogether. “And, if it doesn’t, we’ll find a way to make it better.”

He sounded so sure of himself. You wanted to believe him, when he sounded like that. You did believe him.

You couldn’t remember a time when you hadn’t.

~

Ginger, to alleviate migraines.

It wasn’t for you, luckily. Of all the ailments you suffered from, you’d been left mercifully exempt from headaches and vertigo and all those minor, awful things that would make your life just a little harder than it had to be. If anything, your head was always a little too light, a little too empty, especially after so many hours of following the same unpaved road with nothing to think about but the passing scenery and Eden’s vague instructions, little more than a list of names and goods. Little to go off of, despite his insistence that you be the one to go.

You’d asked why he didn’t just go himself the first time he sent you on your way with a basket of herbs and roots, but Eden had only frowned, shaking his head. He said he wasn’t welcome, not in the marketplace, not in a village that’d already come to know him by name. He said that, if you cared for him at all, you wouldn’t subject him to a full day of haggling in hushed tones with women who refuse to sell mediocre incense for anything less than a small fortune.

And since you did (foolishly) care for him, you went. Not that you were anymore wanted in the marketplace than he was.

You hated it, compared to the cozy isolation of Eden’s home. You hated how crowded it was, how alien it felt to have to navigate the cramped stalls, how the merchant in front of you scowled as he weighed small bags of the exotic, colorful spices Eden was so fond of, the ones that you could never seem to taste the way you were supposed to, judgingly by how liberally Eden used them. He didn’t try to hide the disdain in his voice as he spoke, aged weariness mixed with a self-righteous reluctant. You’d be lying if you said you weren’t used to it, that constant trepidation from people who didn't understand you, from people who didn't care for Eden. At least he was kind enough not to hide it. “Running errands for the witch hermit, again?”

“Eden’s not a hermit.” You tried to smile, to brush it off as if was just another misconception. He wasn’t. You weren’t sure what he was, but he liked people, he liked having someone else around. Or, he liked having you around, at least. He didn’t seem to care much about company, beyond that. “He just enjoys his privacy. We both do.”

“Only a witch, then.” There was a pause, a gruff laugh that didn’t match his grim disposition. Something in the back of your throat tightened, and silently, you wished he’d be a bit more wary of you. Just enough to keep him from speaking so openly. “I’d take what you can and go, if I were you. He takes after his father, and that man spent his whole life makin’ a monster of himself, playing with things no one should. His son ain’t much different.”

It was your turn to laugh, now. “He cries whenever he finds fawns separated from their mothers. He takes in tadpoles he finds puddles. I don’t think Eden is capable of cruelty.” He was a kind man. You’d never seen him be anything but kind. If he had an ulterior motive, if he had a single sadistic bone in his body, you had yet to find it. “He took me in, too, when I was injured. He might be the only reason I have a roof over my head, now. That’s not a kindness I can say very many people have showed me.”

His lips pursed, the barest hints of confusion crossing his expression. It was gone in an instant, and you tried not to linger on it. He thought poorly of Eden, but the mere fact that you were alive – walking and breathing and alive – was enough to earn him your gratitude. Regardless of what a merchant and a marketplace worth of gossip thought. You knew what you believed, you knew what was true, and you wouldn’t let a few rumors convince you otherwise.

Although, you’d be lying if you said that belief didn’t waver, as he went on. “Cruelty isn’t all you have to worry about.”

You opened your mouth. Then, you closed it again, keeping your eyes on the basket still hanging limply on your arm. He wasn’t done yet, not with the spices, not with his poorly veiled warnings, but you didn’t want to listen. You could listen, you would listen, but you didn’t want to. You didn’t want to believe anything you heard in such a crowded place, in such an awful place.

You just wanted to get back to Eden.

~

Willow bark, to take the pain away.

It’s more of a comfort than a necessity, by now. You used to need it, rely on it, and you still liked to keep a bundle nearby, just in case, for days where the soreness was worse than it should be and you needed something to take the edge off, to suppress that overwhelming ache back into a steady throb. But, you never needed it, not like you used to. Not like you had when your injury was a defining feature rather than an afterthought and Eden’s medical expertise was more of a experimental artform than a practiced skill.

His hands didn’t shake, anymore, as his fingers skirted over your bare skin, following along the outline of your wound, the trail of stitches that stretched from the bottom of your shoulder bone to the center of your rib cage and repeated itself, carrying over again and again and again, forming neat rows of tender flesh and scar tissue that refused to stop any higher than your hip bone. He wasn’t hesitant, not with the needle, not as he pushed it through the long-suffering spots where he’d first messily laid your stitches months ago, and he didn’t have to look at you to recognize the way you shifted, the soft string of expletives you let out, to notice your little attempts to turn your head at just the right angle, flinch at just the right time to—

“Eyes on the ceiling,” He demanded. With a small huff, you obeyed, turning back towards the furthest wall. “It’ll only get worse, if you look.”

You knew that. He’d said as much as thousand times before, once for every day he'd tended to your lasting wounds. You were tempted to try, to insist it was only fair that you got to know what was going on with your own body, but you trusted Eden, and it was easier to tilt your head back than to argue, to search the cluttered room for something more interesting than the boy sitting at your side and your own, nagging discomfort.

You were in his workshop, now, an area separated from the rest of the cottage and filled to the brim with the tools of Eden’s trade – blooming flowers permanently encased in blocks of amber, the shells of insects hollowed out and ground into a fine powder, pots, everywhere, some empty and some not, the largest placed over a smoldering hearth that never seemed to grow dimmer, despite how often Eden forgot to tend to it. There was something inside, a substance you didn’t recognize, bubbling and black as a starless sky. It was already solidifying around the edges of its cauldron, crystallizing into rows of jagged, silvery edges slowly creeping along the coaction's surface like an infection. Like a parasite. Like something that shouldn’t have existed but continued to, regardless.

Eden must’ve caught you staring. The needle stilled, and instead, he took to dabbing something cool and smooth around the edges of your scars. A rag, or a balm, or a dozen other possible remedies. You didn't try to look. “It’s for you,” He explained, as if that made it any better. “One of my father’s incomplete recipes. He never figured out how to stop it from hardening once it’s exposed to open air.” Eden clicked his tongue, pulling the thread he was working with taut, and you cringed, tying to ignore the slight pinch. It didn’t hurt, not really, not like it used to. It didn’t hurt at all, if you were being honest, but it felt like it should’ve. “The color isn’t right, either. And I’ve already fed enough dye into the damn thing to poison a small village.”

You should’ve laughed. You wanted to, you knew it was the reaction he was looking for, but it was all you could do to avert your stare, to let your fingers curl around the edge of the table he’d perched you on. "They really don’t like you.”

“I’ve noticed.” A blunt response, not abrasive, but not encouraging, either. Not as dismissive as you would’ve preferred. “And yet, they manage to stomach my cures regardless. It’s funny how quickly pain softens the heart, isn’t it?”

“They say it’s unnatural.” You were pushing, now. You should know better than to push. You never found out anything good, when you tried to push. “They say your father used to dabble in things that shouldn’t be.”

Eden sighed, pushing himself to his feet. There was a short silence, interrupted only by the sound of glass knocking against glass before he dropped what he was holding, stepping in front of you and cupping your face with both hands, instead, forcing you to face him, to meet his dark eyes. Black eyes. Lightless eyes. A contradiction when compared his tanned skin and warm smile. A contradiction you tried to overlook as he bent down, kissing the top of your head so gently, you could almost bring yourself to ignore it altogether.

“My father was a toymaker and a healer. My mother died in childbirth. He did what he could to take care of me, and there is nothing unnatural about that.” He took a moment to laugh, to hold you, and you couldn’t be help but be thankful for it. Only weeks ago, he’d been afraid to touch you, afraid to watch you break all over again. Now, it was all he could do to let you go long enough for his arms to fall to your waist, for your face to find his chest, his tunic, a place to hide yourself away from the rest of the world. You didn’t want to go back, not to the village, not to the marketplace, not to the lonely, hurtful, desolate world outside his cottage. You didn’t want to go back to a place filled with so many people so determined to separate you from Eden. You didn’t want to return to a life you couldn’t remember, one where you wouldn’t have the man who’d saved you by your side. “He loved his family, just as I love you.”

For once, you didn’t have to convince yourself to believe him.

~

Witch hazel, to stop the bleeding.

You’d need it. You’d need a lot of it, more than you should for such a small cut, a jagged line drawn from the corner of your eye to your opposite check, thin but deep and bleeding, pouring out, washing over your hands as you tried to clutch at your face and rub away the damage, like a child trying to blink away a bad dream. Your legs might’ve been bleeding, too, the sides of your ankles, the backs of your thighs, your skin scraped raw in all the places you’d hit the ground as you tripped, falling over your own feet at your stumbled backward, but you didn’t check, you didn’t want to check, you didn’t want to see how bad it was. You didn’t want to take your eyes off the man in front of you, his towering stature, his grim expression.

His sword, silver and unsheathed and pointed at your heart, as it had been from the moment he first caught sight of you.

He wasn’t supposed to be here. No one was supposed to be here, in Eden’s forest, only minutes away from the cottage you’d come to think of as your safe haven. He hadn’t asked for your name, he hadn’t mentioned Eden, he hadn’t said a word to you, not before there was a dagger flashing across your line of sight, a weapon quickly discarded for something more intimidating, something that’d let him stay at arm’s length while he approached you, his stare holding yours, his lips pulled into a thin frown. “I—” You tried, but your voice gave out quickly. You couldn’t remember the last time someone had threatened your life. You couldn’t remember the last time you’d been so scared. “Please, I didn’t mean to get in your—”

“Stop talking.” His tone was flat, apathetic, the barest hints of rage seeping through a weathered veil of neutrality. Immediately, you fell silent. “Who said you had the right to use that voice?”

You opened your mouth, but you thought better of it, biting down on the inside of your cheek as you bowed your head. You wanted to get back to Eden, back to his cottage. You wanted to be anywhere but here. You wanted to run, but you wanted to get out of this with your head on your shoulders, too. “Are you going to kill me?”

“It will not be a true death.” There was a pause, a reluctant hesitation. You pulled your knees into your chest, your hand still pressed to your wound, but the gesture didn’t seem to earn you any pity. “But, I am going to make this—”

He stopped, abruptly, his head attention towards something behind you. You heard it a moment later – measured footsteps, barely making a sound against the dead leaves and branches that littered the forest floor. You didn’t turn around. You didn’t have to.

Not when there was only one person who’d ever bother to save you.

“Adam,” Eden called, already positioning himself at your side. His hand was already on his satchel, toying with the buckle. Like he’d done this, before. Like he already knew it wouldn’t resolve itself peacefully. “There are easier ways to introduce yourself. If you put that sword away, I’m sure (Y/n) could still find a way to forgive—”

“Do not call it by that name.” He was focused on Eden, now, leaving you to fade into the background, to observe as his hands began to shake and he glared, baring his teeth, as Eden had done more than try to play peacekeeper. “That is not (Y/n). It doesn’t deserve to pretend it is, none of your abominations do. It won't bring— It can't—” He trailed off, his sword falling back to his side, his eyes clenching shut. You almost felt bad for him, your would-be murderer, but Eden’s expression remained cold, unbothered. Slowly, almost idly, he reached down, taking you by the arm and helping you to your feet, letting you tuck yourself against him as Adam finally found his voice.

“(Y/n) is dead. Nothing you do can change that.”

A moment passed in silence, still, deathly, frigid silence.

Then, Eden spoke.

“I can handle this on my own.” He didn’t deny it. He wasn’t denying it. Why wasn’t he denying it? “I need you to brew tea, Chamomile. Gather as much lavender as you can on your way home, until your pockets are full and you can’t carry anymore. Can you do that for me, love?”

You nodded, but you were still shaking, still unsure, still so, so confused. You weren’t dead. You could breathe, and you could think, and you ate and you slept and you weren’t dead. “I’m not.” You didn’t know who you were talking to – Adam, still clutching his sword, still ready to behead whoever his blade could reach or Eden, your Eden, the gentle protector who hadn’t looked at you once since his arrival. You just wanted someone to say it wasn’t true. You just needed someone to say it wasn’t true. “I’m not. I’m alive. I’m not de—”

“I’m in love,” Eden said, his voice soft. As if he hadn’t heard you at all. “Why does everyone act as if that’s so monstrous?”

You didn’t want to hear Adam’s response. You didn’t want to hear anything, not from him, not from Eden, and certainly not from your own frenzied thoughts, racing and only growing louder as you ran, sprinting, stumbling through the forest in any direction your legs would carry you. A crooked sob racked over your chest, and reflexively, you moved to brush away the tears blurring your vision, but you couldn’t feel yourself when you should’ve, it wasn’t flesh that met your cheek. Your eyes darted to your hand, a sneer already playing at your lips for whatever mud or decaying foliage had plastered itself against your skin, but…

But, you found a small trail of crystals, instead, silvery-glass that coated your palm, rows of jagged edges that hadn’t been there before, that shouldn’t have been there, where your blood had stained your skin only minutes ago. Or, where you thought your blood should’ve stained your skin. You hadn’t looked.

You hadn’t looked.

You froze dead in your tracks.

Slowly, our raised a hand to your face, to the cut carved into it, to what should’ve been a bloody, bloody wound. Something jagged met your fingertips, but you ignored the slight sting. It didn’t hurt. Not as much as it should’ve. Not as much as you wanted it to.

By the time you pulled away, your hand was covered with it. Thick, cool, forming webs between your fingers as you spread them apart. Dark. A kind of dark you’d only seen once.

As black as a starless sky.

#yandere #yandere x reader #yandere x you #yandere prompts #yandere imagines #yandere oneshots #yandere scenarios #yandere oc #male yandere #yandere oc x reader #yandere x y/n #yandere ocs #yandere witch #yandere fantasy #yanderecore #yancore

[tippedbykreider]

it’s all coming back to me | c. kreider (i)

Word Count: 8.2k Warnings: Slow burn, exes to friends to lovers, relationship breakdown, swearing, alcohol mention. Author’s Note: So many of you have been requesting for this to be brought back! The consensus was that you’d rather have it in smaller chunks so I’ll be posting each new part weekly and they’ll come in between 6 & 9k per chapter. Not only is it more manageable for you guys but it also gives me chance to keep writing new content for it 💖 There is a playlist for this fic which I posted separately, it gives a chronological feel for their relationship and their story. This has been a tonne of fun to write so far and I can’t wait to tell the rest of their story. Summary: Chris Kreider x Reader Insert. They say that all good things come to an end, that you can never have too much of a good thing, but when Chris decided to end your relationship you wondered how anything could ever be good again. A chance meeting 9 years later drags up all those feelings you both thought you were done with. Can you work through your hurt and pain to see what it is that Chris is trying to show you? Or are some things better left forgotten? Tagging: @danglesnipecelly - this girl deserves a writing credit on this thing because she’s pushed me to keep going with this and her input and advice has been invaluable. Thank you for all the support on this one, K 💖

*Italics indicates a flashback*

The notion of fresh starts is often something that is associated with the arrival of the New Year. People use the turning of the calendar to turn over a new leaf, to learn a new skill, to challenge themselves to be better than the year before and to let go of all that was and focus on all that will be. There’s something inherently magical about a new beginning, a fresh start; sometimes it’s the excitement of what might lie ahead and other times it’s the comfort in knowing that you can seize the opportunity be whoever you want to be and to reinvent yourself. It’s the line in the sand and the final full stop at the end of the chapter and it’s the anticipation of picking up the pen and writing those first few words on the new page.

For Chris Kreider this feeling wasn’t one that was brought about by the strike of the clock at midnight on New Year’s Eve because while the date on the calendar changed and while he still spent the next couple of weeks dating things with the wrong year just like everybody else, it still often felt like nothing really changed for him. Chris could only feel like the year was truly coming to an end when the first petals of spring exploded like fireworks in a symphony of technicolour blooms and he found himself giving the locker-room clearout interview. That was the end of the year, the full stop, the line and the warmer days and the balmy nights would give him the opportunity to decompress ready for the turning of the page come September when his focus would once again turn back to hockey.

Chris loved New York; that much was undeniably true. He loved the vibrancy of the city but he also loved the way that he could melt into the background or enjoy the feeling of quiet solace his apartment gave him. It was oftentimes a bolthole, an oasis of peace during an otherwise hectic few months between September and May but the end of the hockey season and the arrival of summer had him seeking the cry of gulls on the breath of a gentle breeze and that crisp, purifying sea air that always managed to fill his lungs differently. Rowayton wasn’t far, a little over an hour on a good day but with its coastal Connecticut charm, slower pace and pretty houses, especially the ones that overlooked the water, it was a world away from NYC and exactly what Chris needed to reset and recharge.

It was a Saturday morning in mid-July and for the first time in a long time, longer than Chris could recall, he allowed himself to sleep in. His bedroom window had been open all night and the welcome breeze snaked through the slats in the blinds and carried on it the faintest smell of salt and sunshine. Chris stretched his muscles in big pulls around the bed before he settled on his back and inhaled deeply, the fresh air clearing his mind and filling his body as the last remnants of sleep slipped away on the exhale of breath. Imbued with energy, he climbed out of bed and pulled the blinds all the way up, flooding the bedroom with beautiful incandescence born out of a cloudless sky. He didn’t make his bed though, not yet, because while he had left his room and was padding down the stairs, he had every intention of returning to the still warm sheets to read a chapter or two of the book on his nightstand with a fresh cup of coffee, a cinnamon and raisin bagel, that invigorating coastal air and the oceanscape outside as the soundtrack.

One chapter turned into two and two became three and before Chris knew it, the sun was high in the sky and lunchtime beckoned. It was shaping up to be a beautiful summer day in Rowayton and Chris thought it would be a crying shame to spend his time at home, even if the page-turner he’d held in his hands moments ago seemed incredibly appealing out on the back deck overlooking the water. It was then he decided to take advantage of that gorgeous sunshine, take in the scenery and stretch his legs by going for a walk into town to pick up a few essentials at Rowayton Market. For all it was a small, it contained everything he would need to keep him going for a few more days until he’d finally need to drive into Norwalk to do a more substantial grocery shop, something that he’d admittedly been putting off. The Market also had some of the best baked goods and fresh coffee in the village and if you asked Chris it would be pretty rude to not take advantage – it was right there, after all, and Chris never could say no to a still-warm Danish and Americano.

He walked slower than he usually would, a conscious effort on his part due to the fact that his legs seemed to want to go into an auto-pilot primed for life in New York City. He was in no rush though, he never was whenever he came here and even though it was a route he’d walked hundreds of times before, and one he would walk hundreds more, Chris still wanted to soak in all the pretty trees and shrubs that were nestled in amongst those classical New England style homes, all shingled exteriors and white, gridded windows in soft muted colours that mirrored the coastal landscape of the village. It was a world away from the brick and the concrete and the bright lights of the city and while Chris loved all of those things about New York and loved wandering through the streets of Tribeca and Soho, getting lost in bookstores and hole-in-the-wall cafes, he also loved the sand, shale and stars and those were things that he just couldn’t find in the city that never slept.

There were quite a few people out and about, Chris noted, most of them he recognised as being residents with their friendly smiles and waved greetings, but there were a handful of tourists too; there always was on weekends during the summer. Not that Chris minded, of course, because for all the village was a popular escape for those seeking a break from the metropolitan life of the nearby hub of cities, it never succumbed to the all-too-often inevitability of commercialisation and still managed to hold on to its peaceful charm, despite it not quite being the quaint fishing village it once was back in the days before the Civil War.

It was one of the reasons why Chris found himself retreating here in the summer and not making the trip back home to spend the off-season in Massachusetts. He would go back to Boxford for a couple of weeks, naturally, because family was something that had always been important to Chris and he would never miss an opportunity to spend time with his parents and sister, but if he had the choice between spending his entire summer being bitten to death by mosquitoes back home (his father always did say that they were the town bird, after all) or feeling the gentle kiss of the ocean breeze against his skin, there was no real contest. Rowayton would always win.

The main street through town was busier, which wasn’t exactly unexpected and if anything it only seemed to add to the charm of the village. Chris decided to head straight to the market to pick up his groceries, if only to facilitate the Danish eating in a more timely-fashion. He picked up a basket as he entered and proceeded to add only the essentials he’d need to get him through the next couple of days. He’d pay for his shopping before going to the coffee bar, because trying to pack his reusable grocery bag with a full takeout cup was a mistake he’d made once before and was sure to never repeat again.

With his groceries purchased and bags packed in such a way that the couple of bottles of wine he’d picked up wouldn’t clink together when he walked (it was three to be exact but after seeing the selection of cured meats, cheeses and olives available he thought it’d be a crime if they didn’t find their way into his basket to come home with him, and if there was cheese there had to be wine), Chris made his way to the coffee counter situated near the Market entrance.

*

You couldn’t remember the last time you’d taken a trip away without the company of anyone else but the last couple of months at work had been incredibly stressful, with projects seemingly coming out of your ears and while you knew your mother had been worried by your suggestion of taking off somewhere alone for the weekend, she also knew better than to fight you on something you’d quite clearly already set your mind to. If you were being completely honest, your plans for the first full weekend you’d had off in months would have consisted of not setting foot outside of your apartment or engaging in any kind of unnecessary conversation had you decided to stay home in Hartford, at least this way you’d be getting some fresh air and the sun on your face.

It was just shy of a two hour drive down to Rowayton, which had the dual benefit of being close enough to home that it didn’t feel like a huge trek just to get there, but also being far enough away that you would be a complete stranger in this town and could take the time to decompress and recharge while blending into the background, and the place was pretty to boot. You’d found a little studio Airbnb not too far away in South Norwalk, figuring that you’d only be using it as somewhere to sleep as you’d planned on spending as much of your time as possible being right by that ocean with the wind in your hair and the warm sun on your skin.

That’s how you’d planned on spending your Saturday afternoon, sat on the sand of Bayley Beach with a good book and a cup of coffee. It was set to be a balmy day, with temperatures sitting in the mid-eighties and the last thing you wanted to be doing in the heat was any amount of excessive walking. So with that in mind, you’d spent your morning exploring the village and taking in the sights and sounds. The gentle protest of your stomach told you it was lunchtime before you’d even taken the opportunity to glance down at your watch and a quick Google search pointed you in the direction of somewhere to get that all important cup of coffee and a small bite to eat.

Rowayton Market didn’t look like much from the outside in the sense that it was a little on the petite side, but the reviews were great and the coffee was allegedly some of the best in the village and that was good enough for you. You were greeted with the smell of freshly baked goods and ground coffee, which was welcoming enough before you even saw the bright smile of the girl behind the counter. Your eyes drifted over the selection of pastries, each one more delicious looking than the last and you knew that you were going to have a hard time choosing just one. You knew you’d have to make a decision, though, suddenly aware of the small line that had seemingly materialised right out of thin air behind you and while you were sure that these people were more accustomed to a slower pace of life, the city girl in you, who was so used to living life in the fast lane, didn’t want to keep these good people waiting while you deliberated. You’d go with your usual and that would be that.

Chris’s attention was fixed out of the large glass windows at the front of the shop, watching as people milled in the street and went about their daily business. It was something he quite often did, whether he was here or back home in New York. There was something oddly soothing about watching the world go by, he thought, and occasionally he’d catch something that would quirk his lips up into a smile, like the sight before him now of a rather large gull in the process of committing larceny against what he could only assume was an unsuspecting tourist. Their sandwich was held high above their head while their free hand attempted to shoo the bird away with little success. He chuckled quietly to himself then, not least because the gulls seemed to get more brazen with each year that passed and he was sure that one of these days he’d see someone’s lunch get snatched right out of their hand by the feathered menaces.

Chris had no reason at all to believe as he stood in that line that everything was about to change. Why would he? The day had started like any other. He’d picked up his groceries in this store more times than he could count, he’d waited in a line just like this one for his coffee and Danish and yet, in that moment, something as innocuous as a woman’s voice would bring feelings that he thought he was done with, and memories he thought had strayed out of his mind for good, flooding back to the surface. But it wasn’t just any woman’s voice, no, it wasn’t as detached and neutral as that. It was your voice; a voice he hadn’t heard in nine years and it was something as simple as a coffee order, an order that he now knew to have remained the same since the day you’d first met at Boston College all those years ago, that blew the dam wide open and every word the two of you had ever spoken, from day one to the last thing you ever said to him, came rushing back.

The sound of Chris’s voice calling your name was something you never thought you’d hear out loud again. It was a voice you’d only heard in your dreams for many years after he walked out of your life, but even that had faded beyond memory to where you weren’t a hundred percent certain that you’d be able to remember what it sounded like anymore. And yet, in the middle of a tiny supermarket in Rowayton, you heard him clear as day with his tongue rolling around the syllables of your name with the same fondness, even after all this time and it was like you’d never forgotten the sound at all.

*

Autumn was beginning to make her presence felt in Boston. The palette on campus had shifted from a spectrum of vivid greens to shades of deep russet, amber, ochre and vermillion; but even above the changing leaves, the turning of the calendar brought a slight chill to the air that had you reaching for your jacket on a morning as you left your dorm.

Today was no different. The temperature had dropped again overnight as November creeped ever closer and it was chilly enough that you had to draw your coat tighter around you as you walked across campus towards class. Your brisk pace had bought you enough time to make a stop at the coffee stand just outside of Campion where your first class of the day was being held. There was a decent selection on offer, but it wasn’t enough to sway you from ordering your usual.

You rooted around your backpack for your wallet while the barista prepared your coffee and grabbed you your cinnamon roll, unaware of the new presence to your right, before handing over the money and taking the coffee and pastry bag from the young man’s hands.

“Coffee and cinnamon roll, eh? Now that’s the breakfast of champions.”

You turned your head towards the source of the voice, lips quirking into a small smile at the sight of the stranger beside you who looked to be not much older than you were, incredibly tall and broad for his apparent age but not for his height. He was grinning at you with a fullness that made his eyes crinkle at the corners and gave him a unique kind of softness.

“My mom would disagree,” you replied with a smirk. “If she found out I was having this for breakfast she’d be in her car so fast and dragging my ass back to Hartford.”

He laughed at that, loud and bright with his head tipped back slightly before running a hand through his dark brown hair that was shorter on the sides but had the faintest hint of a curl at the longer strands on top.

“I won’t tell her if you don’t.”

“Oh, I’m definitely not telling her,” you grinned as you swung your backpack over one shoulder. “So looks like you’re sworn to secrecy.”

You studied him for a brief moment, with the way he was still grinning at you and his eyes that seemed to sparkle behind his dark lashes before your brain gently reminded you that you, in fact, had somewhere you needed to be. “Well, I hate to impose a vow of silence on you like some sort of mafia boss and then immediately split but I uh I gotta head to class.”

“No problem at all and hey, your secret is safe with me. In fact, I’ve forgotten already. What were we talking about?”

There it was again, that smile of his that made you want to stay rooted right where you were standing and look at it all day, but class beckoned and so you gave an awkward wave of your hand and a soft laugh before you turned and headed into the building behind you without another glance back. If you had you’d have seen the stranger from the coffee stand watch until you’d disappeared from view, with that smile still on his face.

This little routine of yours would continue over the course of the next few weeks. Every Tuesday morning, at around 8:45am, you’d find yourself stood at that coffee stand outside of Campion to get your coffee and cinnamon roll, and every Tuesday morning, at around 8:46am, the tall stranger would appear beside you with his kind eyes and his bright smile. You’d exchange a ‘hello’ and a friendly grin and you’d laugh more often than not too while you made pleasant small talk before you both said your goodbyes and went to your respective classes, though you would always leave first and he would watch you go until you’d disappeared into the building.

It was mid-November, now, and the campus of Boston College was firmly in autumn’s frigid grasp. The temperatures continued to drop, seemingly overnight, which had you bundled up in your hat and scarf and the trees had shed their branches of leaves, crunching underfoot with the slight frost as you made your way towards Campion. Your hands were shoved deep into your coat pockets to ward off the gnawing chill and you were looking forward to being able to warm them around your coffee cup.

You approached the stand as normal, rooting through your backpack for your wallet ready to order.

“Hey!”

You looked up, your features fixed in a state of mild confusion while you looked for the source of the voice you recognised but couldn’t quite place. It was then you saw him though, all bright eyed and bushy tailed with a medium coffee and pastry bag held up in one of his large hands as if on display. He was grinning at you and cocked his head, beckoning you over with the wordless gesture.

“Hey, yourself,” you smiled as you approached. “What’s this then?” You tilted your head slightly at the items in his hand as he offered them to you.

“Breakfast of champions.”

Your eyebrow quirked as you took the coffee from him before taking a tentative sip, smiling while the warm liquid slid down your throat.

“You got my coffee order right.”

“It wasn’t hard,” he smirked. “You order the same thing every week and if you open that little paper bag I think you’ll find a cinnamon roll in there.”

Sure enough, as you opened the bag you were greeted with the sight of a perfectly formed cinnamon roll and you couldn’t help the grin that sparked at your lips and spread the full width of your face.

“I don’t order the same thing every week.”

“You do,” he replied with a laugh. “Every Tuesday for the last 5 weeks you’ve come to this coffee stand and ordered a medium Americano with half and half and a cinnamon roll and every Tuesday for the last 5 weeks I’ve been meaning to ask you your name.”

Your face flushed warm at that, not only at his words but at the sure little smile he was giving you and the way his eyes were sparkling. In fact, now that you were really looking at him properly, you were knocked back a bit by the perpetual kindness that seemed to rest in them and you couldn’t help but notice how they really were the perfect shade of hazel, like a forest with a deep bark heart surrounded by leaves that were every shade of green. You’d been quiet a little too long though and so you took a settling sip of coffee to give you enough time to find your voice again and tell him your name.

“Nice to meet you,” he smiled as he offered you his hand, which was large and warm as you shook it.

“And who should I thank for the coffee?” you asked.

His smile grew into a grin then, the kind that you’d noticed over the course of the last few weeks that made his eyes crinkle and happiness radiate from him, before simply replying:

“Chris.”

*

“Chris?”

It was as if time had stood still in that little Market in Rowayton, where your surroundings become a still-frame and there’s nothing but static in your ears. You’d often thought about what it would have been like to see him again. Those first couple of years after he’d left Boston College had you imagining all kinds of scenarios, much like the one you were in right now where you’d bump into each other in a supermarket or a pharmacy, anywhere really, but now that you were living it, seeing it, breathing it, there was nothing you could have conjured up in your imagination that would have prepared you for what it would really feel like to see him again. If you were to be completely honest, you were glad that your coffee and cinnamon roll were still on the top of the counter because you were certain that they would have fallen right out of your hands and onto the Market floor.

He abandoned his position in the line then, as if you speaking his name was a call to him, and maybe it was, on some level, but the truth and simplicity of it was that you were suspended in a state of pure disbelief and even in the short time it took for him to close the distance between you both, you were still yet to move and fix your features to something more neutral.

“Hey.”

It was a simple greeting that he gave you and logically you knew that there wasn’t really any tangible meaning behind that single word he spoke and yet there was something about the look in his eyes and the warmth in the smile he gave you.

“It’s been a while.”

“It has,” you replied, finally finding your voice. “You look, you look good.”

It wasn’t a lie either, he did look good. The tall college boy you remembered, who was just a little too slight for his height, had filled out; you could tell that just from the way the fabric of his t-shirt stretched across the broad plains of his chest and strained around his biceps, and he was no longer clean shaven, which was something that had always made him look quite baby-faced. Instead he was sporting a neatly trimmed goatee and while he had kept his hair short on the sides, just like you’d remembered it, it was longer on the top than it had been in college and the curls were sweeping in a way that reminded you of the waves just beyond the Market door. He looked older, yes, which is exactly what you would have expected in the nine years since you’d last seen him but his eyes were still exactly the same, sparkling and full of mischief , yet still soft, perhaps even softer than before on account of the faint lines around them drawn by time’s fair hand.

“So do you,” he grinned. “You cut your hair.”

“I did,” you looked down as your face flushed with warmth, unsure exactly what you were supposed to say to him.

It was something you’d thought about during those imagined scenarios where you’d magically bump into each other again and you’d thought about all of the things that you would say to him. You would tell him about how much you’d cried when he left you behind to live out his boyhood dream and how angry you were that he didn’t want you to be a part of that, how it felt like all the plans you’d ever talked about were nothing more than empty words and how hurt that had made you feel. You felt like you at least deserved that, especially given that it was never just a casual fling between you both. After all, you’d been practically inseparable for two years. You’d been inseparable ever since he’d said those three words that mean so much. But now that he was here in front of you, all those words that had swirled around in your head and in your chest like a hurricane for so long, dissipated into nothing and you found yourself clutching at straws to find something, anything, to say.

Chris could sense this though. Of course he could because he was Chris and he had always been so in tune with you and your emotions and the fact that he was still able to read you so well was both a comfort and a knife in your chest, and while he internally grimaced at the fact he was having to fall back on using small talk between you both, he felt like it was what you needed in the moment. He wouldn’t expect things to go back to how they were after all this time, he couldn’t, and so he started with something simple, something he knew you would be able give him an answer to.

“So, what brings you to sunny Rowayton?”

“I could ask you the same question,” you replied.

“Ah,” Chris grinned, trying to keep the mood light. “See I asked you first and also, I live here so therefore the ‘question answering’ responsibility falls back to you.”

You couldn’t help but laugh at that, at both his words and the silly little expression he was wearing and despite all the years that sat between you both like a void and all of your hurt that was held within it, it all seemed to briefly melt away and in that moment it was like you were back at that little coffee stand outside of Campion.

“I didn’t realise this was an interrogation. Wait is this one of those little weird cult towns? Should I be worried?”

Chris knew by the little smirk you were wearing that you meant no malice behind your words and so he responded by sucking in air through his teeth before speaking again with one of those smiles that went all the way up to his eyes.

“Watch it, Pickle.”

Your stomach fell right into your shoes in that moment, that name he used only for you slipped from his lips like it was the easiest thing in the world for him to do, like he’d never stopped calling you it and like it hadn’t been nine years since you’d last spoke a word to one another. Chris knew all this of course and he didn’t need to rely on intuition either because he could see every emotion written all over your face.

“I’m sorry,” he said quietly on the exhale of a breath. “I um.. Force of habit, I guess.”

“It’s okay,” you muttered, not quite meeting his eyes. “Although not exactly ‘habit’, it’s been how long?”

Chris winced at that, the reality of how he left things between you both slapping him in the face and he was filled with the guilt that he’d spent almost a decade pushing out of his chest and shoving into the darkest corner of his memory where he would hope it would rest undisturbed. He knew that you were angry at him for leaving things the way he did, how could you not be? After all, he was the one who had broken your heart and left you in Boston, but it was never as simple as that, even back then there was so much he should have said but that was something he wouldn’t realise until much later when it was too late to repair the damage. The thinly veiled hurt in your eyes and the way your mouth was downturned was demonstrative of that fact.

“I know,” he all but whispered. “It just-“

“It’s fine, Chris. Can we just forget about it? Please?”

He nodded, watching with a quiet kind of sadness on his features as you turned to finally pick your coffee and cinnamon roll up off the counter before he cleared his throat softly to continue speaking.

“You never did say what brought you into town.”

You took a sip of coffee to give yourself long enough to settle the thundering in your chest before answering him, because for all your heart felt like it was about to burst from all the hurt you’d managed to hide away up until now, there was also a weird sense of nostalgia that came with seeing him and hearing his voice again, and even though he’d shattered your heart completely when he decided he no longer wanted you in his life, your mother had raised you right and you knew the proper thing to do was to indulge him in a little small talk, even if for nothing more than old time’s sake.

“Just here for the weekend,” you replied. “Work has been nuts lately and I needed some time away from home.”

Chris shuffled on his feet for a moment as you spoke while his eyes darted between you and the door that would lead to the outside world and the possibility of the two of you parting once more. It was an unexpected pull that he felt in his chest at that thought, you reappearing in his life out of the blue only to slip out of it just as suddenly by doing something as simple as walking out of that supermarket back out into the wide world. For nine years he’d thought about where you were, what you were doing, if you were okay, if you were happy and with each year that passed without seeing your face or hearing your voice, he’d resigned himself to the fact that you were lost to him, drifting out there in the seas of life never to see you again. He didn’t know why you’d suddenly come back to him now, whether by some stroke of luck or twist of fate, although Chris couldn’t have cared less which one it was. All he cared about was the fact that you were here at all and it was an opportunity that he was sure he wasn’t going to waste. He didn’t even know for certain that you would want to give him any of your time after what had happened when he left Boston, but he wanted to at least give you what he should have all those years ago and that was an explanation and an opportunity for you to tell him how his actions had made you feel.

“Hey, what are you up to this afternoon?”

“Not much,” you shrugged. “I was just going to sit on Bayley Beach and enjoy the nice weather.”

“Would you mind some company? No pressure, of course, I understand if you… I understand if you’d rather not want to spend any time with me.”

You exhaled then and Chris’s shoulders visibly sagged, bracing himself for your polite refusal, but your response was not one that he was expecting and truthfully, it wasn’t one that you had expected either.

“Honestly?” you started, getting swept up in the nostalgia of seeing him again before the rational part of your brain could catch up. “That would be nice.”

“Great,” he smiled in what you could see was pure relief. “Do you mind if I grab a coffee before we head out?”

“Sure,” you replied. “I’ll wait outside for you.”

You headed out the door and were sure to stand where Chris could see you, knowing him well enough to realise that he’d be worrying, at least on some level, that you’d slip off into the crowd. You’d never do that to him, of course, even after everything, because while he had broken your heart, he was also the first person you’d ever truly loved and when you’d put the pieces back together, you couldn’t help but keep a part of him wrapped up amongst the tape and string holding those pieces together while you healed. It was in doing that that you understood that he would always have a special place in your heart and honestly? You were kind of okay with that because while the ending hadn’t exactly been perfect, the two years you’d spent together were and you wouldn’t have changed that time for anything.

*

You weren’t sure what exactly had possessed you to let Chris talk you into venturing off campus and out in the early-February snow to get burgers at Eagle’s Deli but you were cursing those sparkling eyes and that roguish grin of his for wearing down your sensibilities as you righted yourself after what felt like the hundredth near-fall. It was slushy underfoot, the kind that’s a twisted ankle or sprained knee waiting to happen and while you’d dressed weather appropriately in your winter boots and heavy parka, you were still very newborn lamb-like in your movements which was amusing Chris to no end.

“Come on, slowpoke,” he called from up ahead as he grinned at you over his shoulder.

“Not all of us can be hockey prodigies and thrive in this kind of inclement weather,” you grumbled, shuffling slowly so as not to slip.

Chris laughed as he came back towards you with confident and purposeful steps, surprising you when he offered his arm for you to loop yours through.

“Now, I’m no expert in geography or meteorology but it snows in Hartford, no?”

He was grinning at you, the kind of grin that you had to fight with every fibre of your being not to reciprocate because you’d already committed to your grumpy act and you couldn’t have him thinking he’d cracked you already, even if he, in fact, had.

“Yes,” you stressed. “But I don’t make a habit of going out in it to get burgers like a crazy person.”

The cackle you received from him in reply was loud and a little wild and you couldn’t help but be completely captivated by the way his cheeks were ruddy from the cold and the snowflakes clinging to the curls on top of his head and long eyelashes. Tuesday morning coffees with him outside of Campion before class had turned into coffees in actual cafes during free periods and getting lunch together. It was even dragging your body out into the cold to the Alumni Stadium with your blanket and your thermos to watch Chris play with the BC Eagles because you couldn’t say no to that damn smile and those damn eyes and even now, as you looked at him taking in the scenery along the Chestnut Hill Reservoir pathway, you knew that they were going to be the death of you.

“It’s really pretty along here,” he spoke, more quietly than before; softer too. “You wouldn’t think we were in the middle of Boston.”

“Yeah, it’s a nice walk,” you agreed before shooting him a smirk and a look. “Would be nice in the spring sunshine too.”

“Yeah, yeah. I get it, Little Miss Chilly.”

“I don’t know what you have against being warm, Kreider. Warm is good, warm is nice-“

You shrieked as your feet went out from under you, courtesy of a patch of black ice hidden under slushy snow and you squeezed your eyes shut in preparation for the impact of your ass hitting the cold, hard ground. But it never came.

“It’s okay,” Chris spoke reassuringly, one hand tight around your bicep while his other arm was curled around your waist, holding you upright. “I’ve got you.”

You opened your eyes then to be met with Chris’s looking right at you, all moss and bark and warm. He was smiling at you but it was different to the easy grin he usually wore around you, this was softer somehow and all rational thought was replaced by one of those monkeys playing the cymbals. For the briefest of seconds, and for reasons completely unknown to you, the monkey tried to take the wheel and the idea of kissing him right there, in the middle of the pathway that had made an attempt on your life, flashed into your head.

Maybe it was the snow and how perfect and picturesque the scene around you felt? Maybe it was the fact he’d just saved you from slipping? But the reality of it was that those eyes and that smile held some sort of power over you that you couldn’t yet fully understand. You shook your head quickly, if only to take back control of the situation before you did something more embarrassing than almost falling on your ass.

“Thanks,” you muttered as you regained your composure. “This damn pathway.”

“I’ve got an idea,” Chris grinned as he turned so his back was to you and stooped slightly. “Hop on.”

“You can’t be serious?”

“I never joke about piggy-backs,” he replied in a faux solemn tone with the face to match. “Come on, we’ll get you to the Deli in one piece one way or another.”

And that was how you ended up with your arms looped around Chris’s shoulders and his strong hands holding the backs of your legs as he carried you on his back to Eagle’s Deli.

Not twenty minutes later, the pair of you were shuffling into a booth as you shed your coats, gloves and scarves, Chris grinning at you while you blew on your fingers in an attempt to restore warmth into them.

“See, told you I’d get you here in one piece.”

You scoffed at him and shot a playful glance across the table separating you both.

“You’re not human, that is the only explanation for how you’re able to walk in that,” you nodded towards the window where the snow was still falling to illustrate your point before continuing, “and not fall flat on your face.”

“Or my ass,” he added with a grin.

“Hey, that never actually happened!”

Chris’s face split into an even bigger smile at your little protest and the pout that had formed on your lips and while the gentle teasing between you was simply a part of the dynamic of your friendship, Chris would have been lying if he didn’t admit that the reason he did it so often was because you always looked so adorable trying to rebut him.

“No, you’re right. It didn’t,” he mused with a smirk, not needing to remind you that it was him who had come to your rescue judging from the unimpressed look you were throwing his way.

“All I’m saying is that we could’ve just gone to Hillside for lunch.”

“But the burgers here are superior,” he countered, smiling at you. “And you got to enjoy a beautiful walk in the snow with me so who’s the real winner he- mmpf!”

Chris was cut off by your damp mitten hitting his face, brows knitting into a slight frown before laughing at the proud grin you wore at the accuracy of your throw.

“That wasn’t very nice,” he said with mock hurt.

“Maybe I’m not a very nice person.”

“I don’t believe that for one second,” he replied, but there was no teasing in his tone this time, only the kind of sincerity that had your face flushing warm and had you reaching for the menu to hide behind under the pretence of looking at the choices available.

He couldn’t help but smile at the awkwardness with which you were trying and failing to hide from him but soon joined you in picking up a menu and perusing it, despite already knowing what he was going to order.

It was a few moments before the waitress came over and while neither of you spoke the silence between you both wasn’t exactly awkward even though Chris knew there was something about his last words that had had some kind of effect on you. He was right, of course, because despite the fact that you’d had hold of this menu for a good couple of minutes already, you hadn’t actually looked at a single thing on it even though you’d made such a show of doing just that and now that Chris had ordered, a cheeseburger with fries and a chocolate milkshake, the waitress was looking at you expectantly. Unable to form any kind of rational thought under that kind of pressure, you found yourself simply saying “same” and soon enough it was just you and Chris at the table once more.

Chris was looking at you like he had something he wanted to say and the unreadable expression on his face had you feeling somewhat uneasy for reasons you hadn’t quite ascertained but probably understood on some level if you let yourself think about it for more than a second. He could feel the nervous energy radiating from you though and so rather than pursue his current train of thought, he picked a topic of conversation that was much safer and knew you’d be comfortable with: school.

You talked about your classes and upcoming assignments while he listened intently and you returned the favour while he spoke earnestly about hockey and his own academic workload. It was so easy to settle into a natural rhythm with Chris whenever you talked, as if you’d been having conversations like these for years when in fact it had only been a few months of knowing him and a few weeks of meeting up like this. None of that seemed to really matter though, not when the conversation was good and the chemistry felt right and especially not when it was clear that you were both on the same page when it came to your friendship. There was something else there though, something that was beyond being purely platonic, that much was becoming crystal clear and yet despite the ease in which it was to talk to him about literally anything else, there was something that had you stumbling over the thought of bringing it up.

You were saved from falling down that particular rabbit hole by the reappearance of the waitress, two burgers that were big enough to have your eyes popping out of your head in her hands. Chris chuckled from behind his milkshake at the look of disbelief on your face as your burger was set down in front of you before he reached for the bottle of ketchup between you both. You took the top of your burger bun off, nose immediately wrinkling at the sight of four pickle slices resting on top of the lettuce and tomato.

“Ugh, I forgot to ask for no pickles.”

Chris looked up from where he was squirting ketchup onto his bun, his eyes meeting yours briefly as his face split into a grin.

“You’re not one of those people, are you?”

“Shut up,” you grumbled as you began to pick the offensive green menaces off your food and set them at the edge of your plate. “I like what I like.”

Chris reached across and began to transfer the pickles from your plate to his burger, smiling widely at you as he did so.

“Well, I might have found a solution to this particular pickle you find yourself in,” he chuckled at the exaggerated groan and roll of your eyes at the expense of his joke. “You see, I love pickles.”

“You love anything,” you countered. “You’re like a human dumpster.”

“Hurtful,” he replied as he clutched at his chest. “But also true so I’ll allow it.”

You picked up a fry from your plate and threw it at him, immediately filled with equal parts surprise and a strange sense of awe as he reflexively moved and caught it in his mouth.

“You really are a dumpster,” you grinned as you shook your head at the proud little smile he was giving you.

“I am, so how about you don’t ask for no pickles on your burgers and you just give ‘em to me instead?”

It was easy to agree to his proposal, not least because his logic actually made a lot of sense when you thought about it, but mostly because of the way his eyes were sparkling and the way his smile made you feel warm all over, like the falling snow and freezing air outside didn’t exist, like your fingers and toes hadn’t been numbed by the biting cold during your walk here, like there had only ever been sunshine. It was also why you’d agreed to let him carry you back through the snow to your dorm, his large hands hooked around the backs of your thighs and your arms draped over his shoulders much like during the walk to the diner. You’d protested initially, of course, not wanting to burden Chris or put you both at risk of an injury due to the slippery conditions, but he wasn’t about to be convinced otherwise and remained unperturbed by the weather, gently reminding you that he had in fact got you to the diner in one piece in the first instance at your objections.

Truthfully, despite the mild embarrassment you felt at your complete ineptitude when it came to walking on ice, you couldn’t help but be more than a little impressed at Chris’s sheer strength. You wondered then, about how hard he must work in the gym to develop such a strong core because while you knew from first-hand experience how slippery it was underfoot, he didn’t falter once throughout the entire walk home and with the way he was talking amiably about his favourite places in the city he called home, and how his hands were holding your legs so surely and securely, you felt safe as houses with your chest pressed into his back – even with your thick coats and layers of winter clothing between you.

He walked with you on his back right up to the entrance of your dorm, setting you down carefully on the pathway that looked to have been newly shovelled before he turned to face you, his cheeks once again ruddy from the cold and your walk home.

“I don’t want to say ‘I told you so’ twice in one day,” he grinned, sucking air in through his teeth and shaking his head slightly. “But didn’t I say that I’d get you home safely?”

“So what if you were right twice?” you rebutted with a playful nudge. “It’s not like it’s ever gonna happen again.”

“Watch it, Pickle. I’ll have you know that I’m right about a lot of things.”

“Pickle?” you barked out a laugh, watching as Chris walked slowly backwards down the path away from you with that smile still on his face. “What kind of a name is that? I don’t even like pickles.”

“I know,” he called out into the growing distance between you both. “But I do, remember?”

You shook your head at him, chuckling to yourself with a smile on your lips that mirrored his as you watched him.

“See ya Tuesday then, Trash Can!” you hollered.

His raucous cackle cut through the silent flurry as he continued to walk slowly backwards, his grin clear as day even through the falling snowflakes.

“Trash Can! Fucking, Trash Can! Man, you got some serious chirps, Pickle. Can you throw hands too? I mean, I know you suck at keeping your balance on the ice but we could use an enforcer! I could push you around?”

“Anytime, anywhere!” you laughed, watching him with a grin until he had waved his goodbye and turned away before he retreated into the heavy snow.

Part ii

#it's all coming back to me fic #my writing #chris kreider #chris kreider fic #chris kreider x reader #nhl fic #nhl writing #nhl fanfic #nhl fanfiction #hockey fic #hockey fanfic #hockey fanfiction #hockey writing

[dharc16]

DIVINATION FOR BEGINNERS ~ THE BASIC 3 PILLARS

By definition, divination is the practice of seeing the future and answering questions by supernatural means. This definition is correct, but it leaves out the fact the word divination has the word divine as its main syllable. Divination also means to receive messages or to communicate with the divine (God, the Universe, Source). Divination is practice at receiving the Divine’s messages and learning lessons along the way. Divine messages are answers to questions about life, love, the past, the future, and more. Because really the Divine knows all, there is no limit to the questions that can be asked through DIVINation. Learn the basics of divination for beginners here.

Divination for Beginners: The Three Pillars

Because of the lack of simple instructions for divination for beginners, I came up with the concept of Three Pillars of Divination. This is a concept that will help the beginner learn how to divine, step by step. Focus on one pillar at a time and take your time learning each. This is an ongoing process. The more you learn about divination, the more you will apply these learned concepts to your practice. And if things get confusing, you can always return to the basics. The Three Pillars of Divination are: Observation, Symbolism, and Intuition. If you are studying divination for beginners seriously, I suggest writing these down in a journal or notebook.

1st Pillar: Observation

The first pillar, and probably the most important, is Observation. You can’t receive a message if you’re not listening, right? You can’t interpret a sign if you’re not paying attention. Observation is about being open-minded and mindful at the same time. You are open-minded to any and all messages or images you receive from the Divine through divination, which means you are willing to receive messages in whatever form they come to you. This also means you don’t allow the “logical” side of your brain to completely block out the intuitive (we will get more into this later). It is my belief and experience the majority of people walk around on a daily basis, totally oblivious to their surroundings, totally oblivious to the fact that God is trying to speak to them in different ways. By being mindful of your surroundings and by being in the present moment, you are allowing God to speak to you in whatever form that might be (through nature, symbolism on TV, random conversations, etc). People wonder why they can’t hear God or speak to God, and yet they truly aren’t listening. Observation, mindful observation, is key to hearing the Divine speak to you.

How to be Observant

When learning divination for beginners, be observant. If outside and awaiting a sign from the Divine through nature, be open to whatever appears. Take in the world around you—the environment, the sounds, sights, smells, and sensations. Be observant of yourself—your emotions, your physical sensations, etc. By being present in the moment, you are being mindful of what messages the Divine sends you. This is the same if you are using tarot cards, crystal balls, runes, scrying mirrors, etc. First observe before moving on to symbolism and interpretation.

2nd Pillar: Symbolism

The 2nd Pillar of Divination is Symbolism. Symbolism is the use of symbols to represent concepts or ideas. Symbolism is used in many ways: in mainstream media, literature, religion, politics, etc. The human brain uses symbolism without even realizing. Symbolism is so ingrained in our way of thinking and living. For this reason, symbolism is a big part of divination. The Divine uses symbolism to speak to us. It is an inherent part of divination and should be in the forefront of your mind when you are Divining.

Symbolism in Divination

Symbolism is seen in all forms of divination: tarot, oracle, the Elder runes, the Ogham, numerology, astrology, and more. For example, if we take a look at the runes, the rune Algiz is a symbol (or letter) that represents the concept of protection. This is symbolism in its simplest terms. In oracle, we are presented with various images that each represent a moral or concept of some kind. For example, in the Goddess oracle, the card with the goddess Baba Yaga represents wild freedom. And on and on these symbols go. The point is, whatever form of divination you choose, dedicate time to studying and learning the symbolism therein. As you become more experienced in divination, you will realize many of these symbols carry over to other forms of divination. At this point, divination will become easier for you to perform.

3rd Pillar: Intuition

The Third Pillar of Divination is Intuition. Often when we are beginning to learn divination we’re told to use our intuition. But what does this mean, exactly? Intuition is defined as something one knows immediately without conscious reasoning. You know that feeling you get before walking into a place that tells you not to go in? Or that feeling when you meet someone and your gut tells you not to trust them? Your logical mind will say this is illogical. But this initial feeling is your intuition, your god-given instinct, that will keep you safe in many situations.

How to Use Your Intuition in Divination

Use this instinct, your intuition, when practicing divination. It’s as easy as drawing an oracle card, and letting your first initial thought or feeling serve as the divine message. Practice this so that it becomes natural, as your conscious brain will try to shrug off your intuition at first. Be aware intuition comes to us in different ways. For example, when I divine and use my oracle cards, I will draw a card and look at the image. Typically I get a “flash” of an image or scenery in my mind, this is how I use my intuition. But you might draw an oracle card and hear a word in your mind. Or you might get a particular emotion. These are all forms of intuition, and depending on the person will be different. With practice, you’ll learn how your intuition speaks to you. Each time you practice using your intuition, write down your experience. Did you let your intuition speak to you and show you the answer? Did your conscious mind try to block? Were there symbols or images in your mind? What words did you hear? Did you feel any emotions?

Putting it All Together

Applying intuition to the other Two Pillars of Divination: you will observe, apply the learned symbolism, and use your intuition. Intuition and symbolism will eventually mix together cohesively, and sometimes you might not know where your intuition and symbolism separate. That is the beauty of divination and receiving messages from the Divine. Keep in mind it will take time to get in tune with your intuition…sometimes it can take years to fully connect. Be patient and keep practicing.

Choosing a Form of Divination for Beginners

With the Three Pillars of Divination in mind, choose a form of divination to study. By focusing on one form, you can apply the three pillars and hone in on your divination skills before moving on to another form of divination. For beginners, I recommend using nature to learn divination. This could mean interpreting the cloud patterns in the sky, going for a walk and allowing certain birds or insects to come to you then interpreting those signs, or scrying with fire or water. These may seem very basic, but you will find it isn’t always easy. However, learning how to read patterns and symbols in nature will teach you mindfulness (observation), as well as symbolism and how to use your intuition flawlessly. Then you can move on to other forms of divination that take even more study and time such as tarot or the runes.

Study One Form for One Year

I recommend studying one form of divination for at least a year. You can’t fully connect with that form of divination unless you’ve given it considerable time and study. Spending a month on the runes or tarot will not do. The same goes for other all divination. These forms of divination have been used by our ancestors for hundreds (sometimes thousands) of years and thus have developed their own personalities. You will give honor to your ancestors and to those forms of divination by putting in the time and effort to really connect. Divination for beginners isn’t as difficult as it may seem – it just takes time and practice.

Thoughts by ~ Otherworldly Oracle

Psalms 119: 30~38 THE Remedy Bible

I have chosen the way of truth;

I am committed to your design for life.

I hold fast to your methods, O Lord,

and I am not ashamed.

I eagerly live in harmony with your design,

for you have healed my heart, enabling me to do so.

Teach me, O Lord, the way you have designed life to operate,

so that I might conform and be transformed.

Enable me to understand, and I will practice your principles

and live out your methods with all my heart.

Lead me to live according to your ways,

because it brings me health and happiness.

Transform my heart to desire your methods of love

and hate selfish gain.

Turn my interest away from all worthless things;

recreate me to live according to your way.

Establish your promise within your servant,

so that you may be worshipped and admired.

I’ve said this quite sometime! If you are pagan or wiccan, take what resonates with this teaching! I post as a Christian Witch, but feel free to take this lesson! Learning is for everyone, and knowledge is power!

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