#Camping AU

[charlie-jl]

Marauders camping au!!

Closeups:

[laur-the-cat-prince]

camping modern AU. if anyone wants to write the fic you get my whole heart 💜

[liillyliilly]

How To Set Up A Tent 101

ushijima wakatoshi x reader words; 1352 synopsis; When all else fails, Y/n and Ushijima can still try their best to set up a tent.

Y/n really was lost when it came to setting up the tent she and Ushijima had to use. It was an unfortunate situation, really. As often as Shiratorizawa gave their students weeks off school, they also often did week long camping trips according to clubs and team sports.

Y/n wasn’t meant to share a tent with Ushijima, the captain of the boys’ volleyball team. Seeing as all the other girls in the Shiratorizawa journalism club had already been paired up and had their tents Y/n was shoved off to the Shiratorizawa boys’ volleyball club to ask if they had an extra tent she could use.

After clearing her throat several times, she asked Coach Washijō if he had an extra tent. “Excuse me, Coach Washijō but do you have an extra tent? The Journalism club forgot to pack an extra one.” She rubbed the back of her neck as the old Coach gave her a sour look but called Ushijima over.

“Ushijima-san, you were planning on having your own tent correct?” Coach Washijō asked, his back hunched over to make him look like the villain of a kids’ fairytale. Ushijima gave a nod. Coach Washijō raised his eyebrows and clapped his hands together. “Okay then, L/n-san, you can share with Ushijima-san.”

When she went to disagree, the coach just gave her a warning glare. “I do not have time to deal with this situation any longer.” As he walked away, Y/n couldn’t help but mimic him.

“I do not have time to deal with this situation any longer.” She imitated, lowering her voice and puckering her face up so that it was comparable to his tart expression. Then she dropped what she was doing and turned to Ushijima, she slapped a hand over her mouth. “Please don’t say anything.”

To her surprise, Ushijima chuckled, “You do a much better impression than Tendou can.” When Ushijima started walking away to the bus where all the camping materials were stored, he looked behind him and motioned for Y/n to follow him. Although she felt like a small puppy trailing after a giant, she still went along.

When Ushijima was able to pull the tent out of the back of the bus single handedly, Y/n swallowed thickly before carrying two sleeping bags and waddling after Ushijima since the bags were much larger than expected and hid her line of sight. When Ushijima set down the tent on a dry spot underneath a large evergreen tree, Y/n set down the sleeping bags against the trunk of the tree.

“Do you know how to set the tent up?” She questioned.

“No.” Ushijima admitted. If he was being honest, this was not an ample situation to be in for himself. Even though he prided himself on being reliable and giving a stong feeling of security to others, he always wanted to be the one to solely provide that to Y/n. So, he felt his confidence weaken at the fact that he didn’t know how to set up something so simple as a tent.

Even though they acted awkward around each other, the two had known each other longer than most Shiratorizawa students. Growing up on the same street, Ushijima often spent his time outside practicing volleyball against the brick wall of a small candy shop. The same candy shop that Y/n’s grandmother owned. She would sit outside on the bench with a notebook, asking Ushijima random questions and then writing down his answers.

And then the next day, she would share the miniature article that she had written, featuring what she liked to call “The Rising Volleyball Star Ushiwaka” while Ushijima continued to bounce the volleyball against the wall.

That was how they spent their summers, alone, but at the same time, together.

When Ushijima got accepted to Shiratorizawa, he raced to the candy shop, where Y/n was inevitably sitting and writing things down. “What Junior High do you plan on attending?” He asked, intent on her answer.

“Shiratorizawa accepted me based on the Journalism stuff they saw I had written.” She said while swinging her legs back and forth, since she wasn’t tall enough to have her feet reach the ground from the bench. It was at that moment, Ushijima felt true relief.

“I don’t know how to set up a tent either, but I'm sure we can figure it out.” She said, dusting off her hands and then putting them on her hips in a confident stance.

“Together?” Ushijima asked for a small affirmation.

“Of course!”

Soon, the pair was sitting on the grass, Ushijima was trying to put two metal rods together as Y/n flipped through an instruction manual rapidly. She clicked her tongue against the roof of her mouth before setting down the booket and crawling over to Ushijima. Putting her hands over his, she twisted one of the rods and eventually it clicked against the other one.

When she let out a small laugh and pumped her fists excitedly, Ushijima wanted to do whatever he could just to see her act like that again. Eventually, after spending the rest of the day figuring out how to set the tent up, Ushijima and Y/n took a step back to admire their handiwork.

A large purple tent, suitable for perhaps one person to sleep comfortably laid under the tree. To Tendou Satori, a camping pro, it was probably the worst made tent he had ever seen. But seeing his best friend celebrate with the only girl he would actually talk about for longer than a passing comment, Tendou felt satisfied in the accomplishment before him.

“High five!” Y/n eagerly remarked. Ushijima held back a smile as he lifted his hand up above his head. Y/n rolled her eyes but tried her best to give him a high five despite the height difference of their hands. Y/n started jumping up and down to try and reach Ushijima’s hand.

“Aw, c’mon!” She complained. Ushijima lowered his hand and Y/n happily gave him a high five, when she looked up to him with a scrunched-up face due to her blinding smile, the corners of her eyes winkled and her cheeks mushed up, Ushijima ruffled her hair. Leaving Y/n to purse her lips and shake her head at him.

Later that night, the temperature dropped way below what was assumed to be the normal temperature for a summer night. Y/n only had her sleeping bag, and one blanket tucked around her legs. Her breath came out in white mists, and she could hardly even see it through the cover of inky dark nightime.

Her fingers felt bitten by the cold, and her ears were freezing, she wholly believed that her face would not last the entire night in this cold.

It just so happened that the heating pads for this particular tent had been detached by none other than Tendou Satori earlier that day, claiming he needed extra warmth if he was going to be sharing a tent with an emotionally cold Shirabu. Only, Ushijima had neglected to pay attention to Tendou's antic because he was been too busy watching Y/N mess around with her fellow journalism club members by shoving each other into the lake.

Her body felt chill to the bone. Icy and cold she tried to warm her hands up by rubbing them together. Shuffling around in her sleeping bag she cuddled into herself to conserve any form of warmth. Ushijima rubs his eyes, before mumbling an incomprehensible statement and pulling her into him. Ushijima stuck his arm out of his sleeping bag and pulled his blanket over Y/n as well. Y/n just stiffened her whole body at all the sudden touch.

“Um, Ushijima.” She whispered. When he didn’t respond, she realized that he was asleep. Soft snores and the feeling of his chest moving up and down against her back helped to slowly drift Y/n off to her own slumber.

They woke up, their limbs were entangled and their hearts were entwined.

[ivyodessa]

It's the longest day of the year and Eddie & Chrissy are going camping

[littledancer9]

It’s Always Yes with you

Chapter 3: Yeah, I Had Fun

A collab with and mood boards by: @axdragons

It’s finally here!!! Thank you, thank you, thank you to my partner in crime @axdragons for the mood boards and the motivation. Writing these crazy kids to fit the imagery you gave is so fun and I’ll be sad when their journey is over. Cheers to Chapter 3!

Jon smiled wistfully, eyes shining when he looked at Dany. “Yup. We’ll load up all five of them to camp by the river every summer. The only thing to do inside will be reading Us Weekly from August 2005.”

Dany’s smile dropped. “Five? Who the hell wants to be pregnant five times?” She touched her flat stomach, terrified of a future where it would stretch to something different.

Jon sat up straight with a mischievous smile. “Don’t worry. You’ll only be pregnant four times. We’ll have twins.”

“Twins!” She set her sketchpad to her side. “Jon Snow! Don’t put something like that out there. It might actually happen to me.”

“Good. I want twins.”

Dany scrubbed her eyes, envisioning a life with double strollers, double cribs, and double babies with tufts of silver hair while Jon laughed. Kids? Wasn’t she still a kid?

Check it out on AO3!!

[little-annie]

⛺️ for WIP Weekend please?

Come make me write!

His car's packed to the brim with the likes of Robin, Nancy and the majority of the week's camping gear. Jon and Argyle have most of the kids with them, and according to a far too early phone call from Dustin this morning, Eddie has the rest.

Those of whom, they're still waiting for.

Steve drums his hands on the red steering wheel of the Beemer while Queen plays in the background and he watches in the reflection of the rear view mirror for Eddie's arrival.

Already twenty minutes late, which definitely isn't a great start.

But just as Robin has grown fidgety and restless next to him, Steve sees the white and red van come drifting around the corner. And there, driving like a bat out of hell and coming to a screeching halt just mere feet from Steve's own bumper, is Eddie Munson.

And Oh.

Um.

Well, Steve never thought a man could be pretty, but now…

[bigalockwood]

Ooh, camping AU and Simon vs the Queen!

Thanks for asking!!

Ok, first Simon vs. the Queen (also asked by @peakotp):

This is only a rough idea. I know this doesn't really fit canon and Simon, but I think a confrontation between the Queen and Simon would be hilarious. Simon and Wille are visiting the palace, and for some reason they end up in a room alone together (very different outcome than if this was Wille and Simon). She starts to talk about responsibility and Wille's role etc. and Simon stands up for their relationship and somehow makes her see reason. It ends with the Queen giving them more support. (As you can see this one is very unfinished and not even somewhat thought through). (Which is why I don't even have a snippet to share).

Camping AU:

A camping trip that doesn't start or end how any of the people involved expected.

"

It had been an exceptionally hot day, Wille argued with himself. Above average warm, at the very least. Had he had enough to drink? He couldn’t remember. His mind was rather blank just now, except for a damning agglomeration of realizations, like that there was a water drop making its way down the man’s chest, slowly closing in on his swim shorts, which Wille thought sat unfairly low on his hips. His hips looked like they were made to fit Wille’s hands exactly. There were also his curls, wet and a bit messy, dripping even more water, the droplets running in rivulets along the edges of his perfectly sculpted face. He was talking, Wille realized, and he didn’t appear particularly happy. His lips looked very red. He was godlike, the lean shape of his body attractive in a way Wille had never experienced. Wille was feeling rather thirsty."

[hood-ex]

So anyway I need a dickroy camping fic where Roy accidentally spills his water all over his sleeping bag and then has to go pester Dick to share his sleeping bag with him.

[ronni-right]

Camping & summer holidays AU

It's summer holidays. And they always spend a week on the lake in August. It's just them, Targaryens, Velaryons and Strongs families.

Young Daemon and young Rhaenyra are always sneaking out to make out.

[karizard-ao3]

Oh MYYYY I wasn’t expecting a whole camping setup

I was gonna ask about some Asushin shenanigans though !!

Hmmmm Asushin shenanigans. I imagine that Asuka keeps abandoning whatever she's working on with Misato to come over and critique Shinji and throw herself at Kaji. Misato has to keep coming over to drag her away. Shinji looks all depressed to Kaji takes him off to have a man to man talk (perhaps that is how they end up going fishing and berry picking??) and Kaji gives him some very expert advice on women and how to talk to them.

Meanwhile, Misato has a talk with Asuka about the hedgehog's dilemma and maybe not being so prickly.

When they get back, Shinji goes up to Asuka and does something very slutty and Kaji-esque, which knocks her socks off. She attempts to be sweet (maybe she cleans his ears for him ��). In any case, at some point they end up getting in the hammock together (IN A PG WAY because everyone is around) and do something ridiculously coupley until Shinji pisses her off again.

[macolethings]

The Woods Are My Home

Summary: Lexa has spent months planning the perfect weekend camping getaway so she can propose to Clarke at sunset on a cliffside. But, just like her life, the universe seems to have other plans, and Lexa realizes that perfection cannot be planned.

Continue the One Shot below or Read here or on ao3

- - - - - - -

Lexa had always loved the woods. It was the mix of the petrichor and pine smells, the sound of the wind blowing through the trees, the calming colors, and the serenity of it all. Today, she was hoping to add “beautiful memories” to that list, if she could just get this damn tire changed.

“Do you need help, stud?” Clarke asked.

Lexa stood on the crow bar, attempting to loosen the lug nuts that were keeping the blown tire stuck on the truck. “I don’t know what monster tightened this so much, but it isn’t budging.” She huffed as she gave a small hop to add some extra weight to it, eventually knocking it loose. “Finally,” she said before looking up to the blue eyes she loved. “I got it, Clarke. Don’t worry, you’re supposed to be relaxing this weekend.”

“We’re supposed to be relaxing, this weekend, if I recall correctly,” she corrected. “Come on, let me help,” Clarke offered one final time.

Lexa gave in, asking her to roll the spare over, and the two of them were eventually on the road again. It took a few more hours before they finally reached a secluded site off a Forest Road. The roads were not maintained and required a high clearance vehicle. Lexa knew the roads from her job as a volunteer for the Polis Search and Rescue Team. She taught the specialized skills required for the job to those in Arkadia and other departments across the country after being medically discharged from her job as an Air Force Pararescue Jumper (PJ).

The site was perfect. Soft pine needles cushioned the small circular clearing. A few trees gave cover in case the 17% chance of rain decided to surprise them. And the sparsity of the trees allowed front row seating to the night sky. As she stepped out of the car, she could smell the fresh pine as the sun heated it, releasing the glorious scent. She took a deep breath, settling herself from the bad start to her perfectly planned trip and mentally preparing herself for what could be the biggest moment of her life thus far.

“You alright?” She felt her favorite pair of arms wrap around her from behind and place a kiss on her shoulder. Turning her head slightly, she gave a quick peck to Clarke’s forehead and smiled. “Of course, I am. I’m in my favorite place in the world, with my favorite person in the world. There isn’t much that could make this better.”

“What about your favorite beer as we sit by the creek for just a bit before setting up,” Clarke suggested, giving her one more kiss before stepping away to start grab drinks.

“You know me so well,” Lexa said in a mockingly dreamy tone as she placed her hands over her heart. “How’d a woman like me get so lucky?” she joked.

The creek had been rejuvenating. The cool water ran over their feet as they sat on the bank, holding hands, and drinking their beers. Clarke tried to pry details out of Lexa about the hike they were going on the next day, but Lexa was adamant about keeping it a secret. “I told you how I found it. That’s all I’m telling you.”

The remainder of the evening passed quickly. Between having to wait till after work to start the drive and losing time to the blown tire, there wasn’t much time to enjoy their setup. Although they did make sure to stay up by the fire for a while to just stare at the stars while in each other’s presence.

- - - -

A thunderous boom cracked from the west as they finished up breakfast late the next morning. “Of course, you would,” Lexa internally scolded the universe. She knew there was a small chance of rain, minuscule some would say, but in all her planning there had been no mention of thunderstorms. Rain, they could handle, even hike in if necessary to reach the cliffside in time. But Lexa would not risk their lives with lightning.

Not wanting to give away her disappointment in having something else ruin this special weekend, she settled her face before turning towards Clarke and standing. “We should go hang out in the truck until the thunderstorm passes.” She helped Clarke out of her seat and the two of them did a quick grab of the chairs, coffee, and trash before jumping into the truck. The huff she let out as she settled into her seat must have been louder than anticipated. A tender hand came and rested on face, a soft thumb stroking the side of her face.

“Hey baby,” Clarke whispered, calling to her. “I’m sorry our trip out here hasn’t started out so well,” she commented. “I know how much you were looking forward to getting away from life for a few days and just be.” Lexa hummed and nodded, letting Clarke know she heard her.

“Once this goes away,” Clarke continued, “we’ll start our hike.” She pulled her hand from Lexa’s face and reached into the glove box, pulling out the travel Cribbage set Lexa kept in the car.

“Until then, we might as well kill some time.” She waggled the set at Lexa, smiling. “It’s what it’s here for, right?”

The game was a good idea. Not only did it take Lexa’s mind off the storm, it also cheered her up. Playing games was one of the things her and Clarke loved to do together. When she was deployed, they would sometimes play Yahtzee together. Each had their own set and they’d play over Facetime. When together, Cribbage was their go to game.

They started playing the game when Lexa was stuck in the hospital after her helicopter had been attacked during a rescue gone wrong. She had been shot in the shoulder, and broke one of her legs jumping out of the it before it crashed down. The doctors were worried about infections due to the time she was stuck in the field, as well as the humid, sweat drenching terrain they had been stuck in. Lexa, active by nature, was going stir crazy laying in the hospital. Her wonderful girlfriend, her Clarke, had tried so hard to make sure she didn’t feel alone or bored. That’s when the suggestion of games came about, and thus was born their Cribbage addiction.

Three games and a short nap later, the clouds had departed and the sun was shining. It was as if the universe realized it had wronged them and was gifting a peace offering to Lexa. Trying hard to put the past events behind her, she prepped her backpack for the trip. Blanket, check. First aid kit, check. Water, check. Candles, check. Mini champagnes, check. And most importantly, ring, check. She opened the crushed blue velvet box to look at the ring one last time. It was a simple, white gold ring, with small diamonds inlaid into the band, and a small, raised, round diamond in the center. Clarke had mentioned long ago that she had no want for a large ring; she didn’t want it to get in the way of work or life. So, Lexa went with simple, small, but elegant.

Clarke popped her head into the tent, Lexa quickly shutting and palming the box in her fist. “You ready to go, Lex? I’ve got the food, my water, sweatshirts, and my first aid kit. Anything else I need?” she inquired.

Lexa shook her head and placed the ring back into her bag. “I’m all good.”

The hike started out great. The path was surrounded by the giant trees she loved, yet the rays from the sun were still able to sneak their way through the breaks in the canopy. Birds had come out of hiding, chirping away and playing in the water. Lexa’s hand was entwined with Clarke’s, the two of them enjoying the quiet walk and each other’s company. Quick glances and small smiles were exchanged as they climbed their way over the gravely terrain.

The storm had been more about lightning and thunder than rain, and the gravel made for easy walking. They were almost half way to the spot and making good time. Lexa would have to rearrange her plan slightly, but the most important part was still in place. By the time the sunset was over, she would hopefully be sipping champagne with her fiancé. A loud yelp brought her out of her thoughts. She turned around to watch Clarke struggle on a random patch of slippery clay and completely lose her footing.

She rushed towards her. “Shit,” Lexa bellowed, kneeling next to her. “Are you alright, Clarke?” She looked down, noting the woman grabbing at her ankle and the pain radiating over her face.

Lexa slowly lifted Clarke’s hands away, “let me take a look at it, baby.” Clarke nodded and gave Lexa free reign; she knew she was in great hands.

“I don’t think it’s broken,” Lexa said after careful observation. “It’s swollen, but there’s no sign of a break.” Lexa’s face showed only concern. Her proposal plans were definitely off now, but she was more worried about her love being in pain. “I’m going to press a little bit to see if it can take any weight.” She gave it a slight push, intently watching Clarke’s face for any sign of pain. A quick grimace told Lexa that Clarke should not be walking back down.

“I’m sorry, Lexa.” She heard Clarke say through gritted teeth.

“Please, Clarke. I’m sorry this happened to you.” She tried to give her an assuring smile but failed. “Let’s get this splinted and wrapped so we can get you back down to camp.” She left no room for argument.

Between the two of them, Clarke having been a paramedic for a few years, the leg was immobilized and they were ready to make their way back down the path. “I’m going to carry you down on my back,” Lexa told Clarke.

“Lexa, I’m not going to do that. It’s not good for your leg and you could slip with me throwing your balance off” Clarke argued.

“It’ll be fine, Clarke. We just started on the upward slope not long ago.” She rolled her eyes. “Plus, I’m cleared for rescues. Let me rescue you,” she pleaded. Lexa felt safter knowing most of the path down was embedded with gravel sized rock, allowing for great traction.

Lexa knew Clarke was fully aware there weren’t many options. It was either be carried, throw her arm over Lexa’s shoulder and hobble down together, or stay put. Finally, Lexa heard Clarke groan. “Fine.” Lexa smiled, lifted her carefully, and got Clarke settled on her back.

- - - - -

Thanks to her job, Lexa was extremely fit. She had grown up playing sports, one being trail running. Her fitness level exploded when she became a PJ. The career field had been dominated by men for decades. When she started the pipeline to become a PJ, the Air Force had just started giving women the chance to attempt to join the elite force. The first woman through, Indra Groves, had finished fourth in her class and inspired Lexa to become a PJ herself. A fellow teammate from high school, Anya, had graduated second in her class from PJ School. When Anya found out Lexa was going attempting to become a PJ, she offered her any help she could so Lexa could finish at the top of her class. Which she did, with Anya and Clarke’s help.

That life had all came crashing down, along with their helicopter. They lost two of their crew that day. The pilot and co-pilot gave their lives holding onto the controls as long as possible, allowing the others a chance to bail. Anya, Lincoln, Lexa, and Roan had all made it out alive, but very much worse for wear.

Lexa’s leg started to ache shortly before arriving to their campsite. She didn’t lie to Clarke; she had been cleared for rescue missions. But she left out the part where the doc said it could still take a toll on her body and that she needed to weigh every rescue with the potential for days of pain as she recovered. Lexa had listened, but she would always put Clarke first.

Together, the two sat Clarke down into the tent as darkness started to cover the skies. Lexa grunted as she knelt down, causing Clarke to raise her eyebrow as she raked her eyes over Lexa’s body. “How’s your leg doing, Commander?” Crap. That nickname had been given to her by Anya after Lexa had become a bit too commanding on their first mission, especially considering she was the newest to the team. Clarke used the name sparingly, and normally as a tease, which meant Clarke was onto her.

Lexa could try to lie, but she didn’t want to. Not only that, but just like Clarke could read her body, she could also read all her subtle expressions. There was no way out of this. “Hurts,” she stated, nonchalantly.

“Uh-huh.” Clarke rolled her eyes. Lexa knew that look. She was in trouble. Clarke must have been able to see her distress because she let it go. But Lexa could no longer let it go.

“Let’s get your leg propped up on these,” she instructed while grabbing their pillows. “She reached into her bag, grabbed the ice pack, and activated it with a quick crack. “If you’ll be alright for 10 minutes, I need to clear my head.”

“I’m sure I can manage,” Clarke confirmed. “It’s been a while since my paramedic days, but I still remember the basics.” She winked at Lexa. “Go. Take your time. I’ll be here when you’re done.”

Lexa felt bad leaving, but she needed to pull herself together, and to do that she needed to let these feelings settle over her so she could deal with them head on. Lexa knew that no life was perfect, but she thought that her dues had been paid. Yes, her life was good. She loved her job, had great friends, and had found the love of her life. But it had in no way been perfect, personally, career wise, or in her relationship with Clarke. She traipsed through the woods as she thought back on her life with Clarke, and how they got to this point.

She had met Clarke while training in Arkadia to become a PJ. After making it through all the military training and testing, she had to learn how to save lives. They were taught to manage trauma patients prior to evacuation and provide emergency medical treatment. They practiced in simulated life or death situations, and were required to do an extensive number of hours as a paramedic in the city. On one of her first nights, she was dumbstruck by a beautiful, sarcastic, and wickedly smart woman who commanded the paramedic team. She had introduced herself as Clarke, to which Lexa’s dumbass could only respond with, “I was expecting a dude.”

Never had she felt so stupid. She avoided the team as much as possible that night, keeping to herself whenever they weren’t saving a life. At the end of the shift, Clarke pulled her aside to make sure Lexa was alright. “I know the first few shifts can be rough, but you’ll get used to it,” Clarke had told her, clearly misreading the situation. Lexa wasn’t scared, just distracted by the woman. She knew she had to pull herself together. She told her she would do better, and Clarke promised to teach her everything she knew. And she had. Clarke’s knowledge was extensive. She had started out in medical school but lost interest as time went one. However, she retained everything she’d learnt and had more saves than any other paramedic team in the city. Lexa’s military skills and the medical knowledge she learned from Clarke had her graduating number one in her class.

They were able to date for seven months while Lexa waited for her first assignment. Clarke and Lexa’s relationship grew and the two were inseparable, talking about their lifelong future. They met each other’s parents and made plans for the inevitable long-distance relationship. As luck would have it, Lexa was assigned to a base in Polis six hours away from Arkadia. Anya was also assigned to the base. Their unit, being so close to the coast, saved lives those the Coast Guard couldn’t reach, and led forest rescues, especially during fire season. Clarke had moved out there eight months later.

After the crash on her first deployment, Lexa’s life had been changed forever. She was struggling through physical therapy after the crash. The immobility and slow progress made her furious. Going from being a fitness guru to not being able to walk was soul crushing. Her anger was sometimes taken out on Clarke, who took it for a while before finally telling Lexa that she wouldn’t stay around to be her punching bag. Her therapist eventually suggested couples counseling, and just like her body, their relationship eventually became strong again.

Lexa sighed to herself. Her and Clarke had been through so much, but they always managed to heal together. She knew that if she wanted to finally feel better, she would have to lean on Clarke. But it would be a balancing act of being honest without giving away her intentions for this weekend. Looking at her watch, she panicked. It had been 45 minutes, much longer than Lexa had told Clarke to expect. What if something had happened?

As she ran back, she noticed an odd light coming from the tent. It wasn’t as bright at the lantern they normally used, and it had a flicker to it. Opening the tent flap, her breath hitched in her throat. “Clarke,” she awed. All around the tent, Lexa’s battery powered candles she had planned to use at the cliffside flickered. In the middle, on one knee with the other leg propped up behind her was Clarke. She wasn’t sure how she managed to get into that position. Lexa slowly made her way in, keeping her eyes on Clarke’s face. She watched as a watery smile appeared across her face. “Clarke, what is this?”

“Lexa, I can see how upset this weekend has made you, but I couldn’t figure out why some storms and a few accidents would set you off so much. But then, I realized why you were trying so hard for the perfect weekend.” Clarke adjusted a little, and Lexa bent down to help steady her. “Our life has suffered its ups and downs, just like this trip. But with you by my side, everything is perfect. Stranded in an airport, losing our luggage on our first trip, having to share a twin bed at my grandparents’ house; all those memories are precious to me because they’re with you.” She watched as Clarke pulled a small crushed velvet box out of a backpack. It took Lexa a second to realize that the box Clarke held was crimson though, not blue. Her heart started pounding as it settled in what Clarke was doing. “I have waited years for this moment, and months to get you here to the woods again. Because, while the woods are your home, Lexa Woods, you are my home. You will always be my home, and I would love nothing more than to marry you. Will you marry me, Lexa.”

Tears were streaming down Lexa’s face. Never in a million years had she seen this coming. Yet this wonderful woman had taken another shitty situation and turned it upside down. Lexa didn’t even care in this moment that she wasn’t the one to ask. The woman she loved had taken it upon herself to try to fix everything and in the process mended her heart with one simple question.

“Yes.” She couldn’t get the additional words out as she started to cry, but pulled herself together. “I would love to be your wife, Clarke.”

Clarke reached up with her free hand, wiped the tears from one side of her face, and kissed her softly. “I love you, Lexa. We are a team, always.” Clarke gently grabbed her left hand and placed the ring onto her finger.

Lexa nodded, and rested her forehead against Clarke’s. They took a few seconds to just breathe one another in. “We should celebrate,” she said after her heart settled. “But first, you need to sit back down properly or that ankle is going to swell up even more.” Clarke nodded her affirmation before Lexa settled her back down and grabbed a few things from her bag. She held the two small bottles of champagne in one hand, and the ring hidden in the other.

“Before we celebrate, I have one clarification to what you said.” She stroked Clarke’s hand as she spoke. “You mentioned that the woods are my home. And while they have almost always been a place of peace for me, YOU are my home, Clarke. A home I want to have forever.” She opened up her fist to reveal the ring. Clarke gasped upon seeing it. It was gorgeous.

“Always,” Clarke vowed before kissing her again.

The two toasted each other, and to their future. Drunk off their happiness, they started making outlandish plans for the wedding before spending the rest of the night wrapped in each other’s arms as they reminisced about their life together. It may not have been the perfect weekend Lexa had planned, but the weekend had ended perfectly.

[leviackermanscleaningbuddy]

Heyy Jess for the prompt game can you do list #72 numbers 6&7 with established relationship bf!changbin x gf!reader??🫶🏼🍓

SKZ PROMPT GAME

Prompts: "The only thing that never disappoints, is your ability to disappoint."

"You're incredible." "Aw thanks!" "Not a compliment babe."

Member: Seo Changbin

Relationship: Established GF!FemReader x BF!Changbin

Genre: Fluff

"How sure are we that this is actually where we're supposed to be?" You question skeptically, stopping for a breather, adjusting the heavy backpack higher on your shoulders.

Your boyfriend looks up from the map, squinting at your surroundings for a minute, before he glances back at you from further up the trail, a long suffering expression on his face.

"C'mon, baby. Have I ever willingly led you astray before?"

You take a gulp from your water bottle and stare him down blankly.

"Are you sure you want me to answer that question?"

Changbin chuckles, and comes back to you, map still held loosely in one fist. He presses a quick kiss to the tip of your nose, and readjusts your sunhat on your head with a fond look.

"We're almost there. I promise."

You heave a sigh and hoist the backpack higher on your aching shoulders once more, nodding at him to continue.

"Fine. Lead the way."

********************************************************************************

"Oh my god." You groan, several hours of hiking later, dropping the heavy backpack onto the pebbled shore of the lake with a thump and instantly collapsing down on the nearest stump. "You're a slave driver."

Changbin stands, peering over the lake, looking less than winded, and when he turns to you with a smile and cocked brow, you kind of want to punch him in the face.

"We made it before sunset though, yeah? Now all that's left is to set up camp, put up the tent, make a fire, cook some dinner-"

"Oh my god." You repeat again, lying back on the log and throwing a hand over your eyes. "I like camping and hiking as much as the next person, but all of that currently sounds entirely exhausting."

Changbin chuckles, and you hear his hiking boots crunch across the rocks toward you. His warm hand comes up to uncover your eyes, and you shoot him a halfhearted glare.

"Baby." He crouches down beside you, leaning forward to brush some stringy hair back from your forehead, his head cocked adorably. "I promise you, this is gonna be the best, most relaxing weekend ever. Just me and you."

You stare at him for a moment, his words settling over you, seeping into your bones, and finally, you let out a resigned sigh and say weakly, "You think they deliver pizza up here?"

Changbin laughs, patting your thigh, before he pushes himself to his feet again. "Not a chance."

You groan, and force yourself to stand and begin unpacking your backpack.

********************************************************************************

A rumble of distant thunder rolls across the sky, and Changbin looks up from stoking the tiny fire with slight concern in his eyes, brow furrowed.

You follow his gaze, noting the rapidly gathering dark clouds across the lake.

"Yikes." You remark, pulling on your socks and shoes again now that your feet have been sufficiently warmed. "Someone isn't thrilled we're here."

Changbin slides his gaze to you, his expression confused. "What?"

You motion toward the incoming storm, the wind picking up, rustling your hair and threatening to put out Changbin's pathetic flame.

"The gods of the mountains or whatever. They're obviously pissed we decided to encroach on their sacred land." You lean forward and poke at the dwindling fire with a stick, watching the way the sparks jump.

"They're gonna demand a sacrifice now, because you know what they say, babe-" You hold up a finger and quote seriously, like you're repeating ancient lore. "-'Never go camping in the Gods' mountains without a prepared offering, an open heart, and a cleared schedule.'"

"That doesn't even rhyme." Changbin replies helplessly.

"It doesn't have to rhyme. It's Greek." You sniff back.

Changbin stares at you with a blank expression, a flash of lightning sweeping across his features, before he looks away, shaking his head in disbelief.

"You're incredible."

"Aw, thanks!" You hide a grin, tugging your jacket closer around you as the first few raindrops begin to fall.

Changbin sighs. "Not a compliment, babe."

A crash of thunder sounds right over your heads and has you scrambling for cover behind Changbin, your fingers gripping his coat as you duck your head into the safety of his back.

"Okay." You peer up cautiously, the rain starting to pelt your face. "We've done more than pissed them off."

"Fuck." Your boyfriend swears, abandoning the fire, quickly sizzling out in the oncoming rain, and glances out toward your campground, and the tent still wrapped up on the ground. "I knew we should've set up the tent first."

You yelp as a crack of lightning snaps across the lake. "Little late for that, babe. Let's just get it up now and get the hell inside."

Changbin stands, grabbing your hand and tucking it into the pocket of his jacket, before he leads you across the small clearing toward the waiting tent.

The rain is a downpour now, the sky thick with thunderous gray clouds, and taking a step into and against the howling wind feels like a herculean effort.

You all but close your eyes and let Changbin lead you where you need to go.

Reaching the tent, he crouches down and glances up at you, shoving a tent pole into your waiting hands.

"Start putting these together! I'll try and get the stakes in the ground!" He yells over the sound of the wind and thunder, and you nod, squinting your eyes as the rain blinds you, crouching down beside him to start putting tent poles together with numb fingers.

Another flash of lightning and Changbin has successfully unfolded the tent, but it's flapping wildly in the wind , like a captured animal trying to wriggle out of his grasp.

"Fuck." He swears, fighting with the billowing fabric, and you abandon your task to help him pin it to the ground.

"How do we set it up?" You call out over the sound of the storm, and Changbin stares down at the tent pinned beneath your bodies, curls dark and dripping, face wet with rain.

You try again. "Bin? What do we do?"

He glances up at you, eyes slightly wild. "I don't know! I haven't used this since last summer. I don't remember!"

You stare at him, mouth agape, and another boom of thunder has you frantically trying to shove a halfway finished tent pole into whatever slot of the tent you can find.

"It can't be that hard!" You reply back, more to yourself than anyone else, as you wrestle with the fabric and the pole, and succeed in only pinching one of your tingling fingers.

You swear, and drop the tent pole onto the downed tent, shooting a glare at the offending object.

The fabric is quickly growing heavy with pooled rain water.

"Fuck." Changbin swears again, and suddenly tugs the tent fabric out from beneath your bodies. He jerks his head toward the nearby towering pine trees and yells out, "C'mon! Help me get it over there!"

You duck your head against the wind, and both of you head toward the safety of the trees, the tent between you desperately trying to fly away in the wind.

You're panting and absolutely soaked by the time you reach the pines, and Changbin's hair is slicked flat against his head, the unruly curls heavy with water, his jacket dripping.

His chest heaves as you set the tent down and pin it with your feet, and you bemoan silently the puddles of water you can feel already gathering in your sopping sneakers.

"Well?" You ask, in a slightly more normal tone, the wind less noisy beneath the sheltering cover of the trees.

Changbin peers up into the threatening sky, slanting his gaze against the incoming rain.

When he looks back to you, his expression is resigned.

"We left all the rest of the tent shit over there." He motions with his head to the original scene of the struggle, and you instantly shake your head.

"No way. I'm not leaving these trees."

Changbin looks grim, staring down at the tattered tent fabric beneath your shoes.

"Right." He looks determined, glancing up at the dripping branches above your head. "We're gonna make a makeshift shelter with the fabric till the storm clears."

You stare at him.

He picks up his side of the heavy, wet tent, and with a sigh, you slowly do the same.

Following his lead, you string up the cumbersome fabric between three trees until it's sort of secure and makes a triangular, but shoddy, cover from the onslaught of the storm.

Changbin takes off his jacket and lays it on the wet, pine needle covered ground, before sliding back to position his back against a rough stump with a slight grimace.

You stand, staring at him, and he arches a brow, motioning for you to come to him.

"C'mere."

Reluctantly, you slide beneath the dripping, makeshift shelter, and settle in between his legs, leaning back against the warm strength of his chest.

His arms go around you, bare now that he's shed his jacket and is only wearing his damp t-shirt, and his skin is chilled from the rain, but you still feel warmer than before when he rests his chin on the top of your head.

"Well." He chuckles, and you feel the vibration through his chest against your back. "Definitely should've remembered the tent instructions."

You scoff, leaning your head back to glance up at him, smiling down at you.

You reach up and pat his cheek teasingly. "The only thing that never disappoints, is your ability to disappoint, babe."

"Yeah, yeah." He rolls his eyes and captures your hand, tugging it to his mouth as you squeal, lightly biting the tips of your fingers before he presses a kiss to your palm and releases you.

You glance out at the raging storm, and snuggle back against him.

"I dunno. It's kind of cozy."

Changbin snorts. "Yeah, because you have your jacket on still and you're not getting rammed up the ass by some imprudent tree limb."

You bite back a grin. "I always knew you liked it up the ass."

Changbin growls, leaning around to tickle your sides, and you screech, laughing, as you try to wriggle away from him.

Your little playful scuffle only succeeds in making the two of you more muddy and wet than before.

Both of you catching your breath, you glance up as another streak of lightning lights up the limbs of the trees over your head.

You scoot back into the safe embrace of Changbin's arms, and he wraps them around you, pressing a kiss to the wet crown of your head, before he rests his cheek against it.

You close your eyes and listen to the howling of the storm.

"Best, most relaxing weekend ever." You remark quietly, not opening your eyes, fingers tangling with his.

He presses another kiss to your head.

"Just me and you."

[haeggi]

while you are dreaming | myg ✓

➔ pairing: visual arts major student!yoongi × culinary arts major student!reader

➔ genre/warnings: road trip!au, camping!au, traveling!au, soulmates!au, best friends to lovers, fluff, angst, slow burn, mutual pining (confused feelings from reader), emotional constipation, anxiety, heavy self-deprecation :(

➔ word count: 14.8k

➔ glimpse: you and yoongi embark on an escapade from the bleak realities of your lives. at some point while you are both dreaming, you both experience a moment of epiphany; that you constantly sought each other's warmth for refuge.

︶︶︶⠀୨♡୧⠀︶︶︶

What does genuine happiness feel like?

Happiness. One word. Nine letters. It's a simple word with a simple meaning. With one glance, it's facile to grasp the definition of the word. Yet, it's a feeling arduous and complicated to achieve.

Throughout your time on earth, you always find yourself racing after it. And with every step you take, desperately trying to reach for it, it seems like it is getting further away from you. Just when you think you've got it, it slips from your fingers no matter how much effort you exert to clutch it.

Instead, you fall and find yourself amidst the ferocious waves, smothering your breaths. The vehement pressure constricts around you like a sea serpent, solicitous to drag you down within the trenches. You desperately try to summon your remaining potency, if you even had any left to spare. Alas, the serpent would daunt you, and you let it get into your head, and you stop resisting.

And whenever you wake up on the soft sand of a random beach, the peaks of rays coat yourself warm as if the previous night didn't torment you with perennial cataclysmic storms. Then, you're left to ponder.

Where am I?

What do I do now?

From then on, you start your day again with spontaneity, because you're faced with a huge murky forest that you had no choice but to enter if you wanted to continue to survive.

But on that particular night, in the midst of the devil hours while you lie down again within the darkness of your melancholic room and wait for the raging storm again to devour you, a beacon of light appears in your line of sight.

You rise from the waters that were beginning to submerge you, and you reach for the light, reluctantly enclosing it with your palm.

With a heavy exhale, you answer the call and press the device against your ear.

His warmth instantly instills in your erratic nerves. His mere soft breaths vibrating from the phone and traveling towards you, makes you calm your own breathing.

"Let's run away."

︶︶︶⠀୨♡୧⠀︶︶︶

The sun is still resting beneath the clouds, and it is blanketed by the grayness of the sky. Your eyes trail after the buildings that you pass by until they are replaced by trees, stilling your breaths until you slowly let the slumber succumb you.

You don't know for how long you're gone, but you feel your consciousness gradually seeping through your system. You notice that the shuddering of the vehicle is miniscule unlike before you went to sleep. It's steady and motionless, and you realize it's the reason why you woke up. Because it wasn't lulling you to sleep anymore.

Stretching your limbs, you release a soft yawn before you fully open your eyes. You are greeted by the cerulean sky, cotton clouds patching it. You let your gaze wander to your right, and you see the sunlight's glow warming your skin adequately.

Finally, you shift your gaze to your left where you are welcomed by his soothing presence. His amiable hazel feline eyes are locked with your round mouse ones. His soft wavy ginger locks is accentuated by the sun's gleam. His hair color contrasts the paleness of his unblemished skin. And finally, his soft pink lips that is curved upward, his charming smile infectious that you can't help but reciprocate it.

The strum of baritone strings fills your ears. "Good morning," Yoongi greets.

"Morning," you mumble back. His kind smile reaches his eyes and you watch him as he reaches for something at the backseat of the pick up truck.

He hands you the paper bag with takeout, and the aroma of hamburgers fills your nostrils. You give him one of the burgers and you both start to eat in silence.

"Where do you wanna go?" Yoongi asks with a mouthful of burger in his mouth.

You blink at his question, mildly confused before you say, "I thought you had a plan in your mind."

He snickers at you, a coy smile painting his lips. "No, you dummy." He pinches your cheek to which you protest, swatting his teasing hand away. "It's not a road trip if we have an itinerary."

You scowl, caressing your cheek that is still puffed because of the burger in your mouth. "Then, why are you asking me where do I want to go? Just keep driving until we see something that piques our interest."

Yoongi hums thoughtfully, tapping the wheel with one hand. "Alright then. But first, we have to make a stop for a gasoline station. We're about to run out. Perhaps, grab a few stuffs from the convenience store too."

You nod your head in acknowledgement. "That works with me." A sudden realization comes into your mind so you abruptly shift in your seat, turning your body to face Yoongi, placing your hand on his arm.

"Wait, how long will this trip be?"

He blinks at you and ponders before coming up with the notion, "Maybe a week?"

A loud gasp escapes your lips. "I only packed enough that would last me for three days!"

Tsking, Yoongi leans towards you and your brows crease in confusion at his action. Realizing that he was reaching for the compartment, you incline back on your seat. With watchful eyes, you follow his every movement as he grunts softly, having a bit difficult time rummaging inside the small space.

"Aha," he finally exclaims, taking his arm out. In his hold is a leather wallet. He smirks at you, lifting the item in front of you.

He tilts his head and declares, "We're going shopping then."

︶︶︶⠀୨♡୧⠀︶︶︶

Your limbs start to feel too heavy to merely lift as Yoongi continuously pulls you around the clothing store. He keeps taking shirts, pants, and shorts from the clothesline and settling them in front of your body. He would either hum in countenance and shove the apparel in the basket, or shake his head disapprovingly and return the garment to its rightful place.

Nonetheless, you let him drag you around as he pleases because you can't deny that you're starting to get fond of his attention and dedication into picking out the best outfits for you.

But you can't help but wonder loudly, "Does your course teach you fashion too?"

Yoongi doesn't look at you. He holds an over-sized shirt in front of you while answering, "Nope," he pops the p. "But, everyone who takes the course is very meticulous when it comes to their fashion styles."

You hum in understanding, "I see, you were influenced."

He nods, giving you a soft smile. Then, he finally takes the last article, which is a knitted sweater dress, hands you the basket of clothes and pushes you towards the direction of the fitting room.

"Since we're shopping, might as well buy the best ones we can find for you," he states cheekily.

It was impossible to not giggle at Yoongi's merry mood. And who were you to even deny him?

You tried out everything he gave you and you can't help but feel amazed that every piece of apparel you wore suited you. You're awestruck by your best friend's fashion sense. After trying all of them, you step out of the fitting room and you see Yoongi ambling around the store, humming a meaningless tune to himself.

When his eyes land on you, the giddy smile returns to coat his features, and you almost feel yourself melting into a puddle when he skips towards you and asks for your decision.

The gums in his mouth started to appear the moment you told him that you were happy with his choices. The sight of his gummy smile causes you to return one to him.

After a short quarrel about who has to pay, you finally let him to your dismay. But not after making him promise that it will be you who pays the next time you both eat.

As you exit the store, with two paper bags in your hand, you feel Yoongi's fingers interlacing with yours and you shoot a look at him. He seems oblivious of the unfathomable feeling swirling inside you.

Holding hands with him had been awhile, but even in your previous hangouts, this has been a routine with the both of you already. So, you wonder why a certain organ in your chest stopped beating for a second, and resumed to its usual pulsation as if nothing ever occurred.

He pulls you out of your daze through asking, "Where do you want to go next?"

︶︶︶⠀୨♡୧⠀︶︶︶

Minutes later, you both find yourselves hitting the road while you both belt out every lyric of Getaway Car. Mostly, it was Yoongi who handled the high notes, while you guffaw at him every time his voice ebbs gradually.

The succeeding songs that follow coops you to sway along the beats while Yoongi passionately sings every syllable of each song. You aren't surprised because after all, it was his playlist. Albeit you didn't know most of them, you were still able to lilt alongside, because his exuberance is contagious.

Every now and then he would let one of his hands release the wheel, walloping the air rhythmically. You requite the jubilant smiles he gives you every time your gazes collide.

You don't know for how long you've jammed with the radio but once a gasoline station appears in your vicinities, the energy eventually simmers and you both take your time to calm your breaths.

Yoongi skids the car to a halt and instructs the crew, while you unbuckle your seatbelt.

"I'll head for the convenience store now," you say, departing the vehicle.

Once you receive his nod of acknowledgement, you barrel towards the store with giddy steps, the glass doors instantly sliding open. You grab a basket and start snatching and shoving all necessities in it.

You approach the cashier after evaluating that you've gotten everything. As you drop the basket on the cashier, a hand sneaks its way up below your arm then swiftly shoots something into the basket.

"Lollipops? What are we, five, Yoongi?" You pivot around to face the culprit, who already has a sucker in his mouth.

He takes it out and goads you, "Oops, this one's been opened now. You have no choice but to pay for the pack."

To say that you're riled up is a lie because you're incapable of resisting to shake your head fondly and titter at his juvenile actions. You swiftly pay for the delicatessen and essentials before vamoosing the store to resume your way on the road.

This time, it's you who goes behind the wheel. Without a particular destination in mind, you let yourself listen to your instincts; to continue following the path that leads to the unknown.

Unlike the zestful playlist earlier, Yoongi put on a mellow playlist, inundating the ambience between you in snug silence. In your peripheral, you see the cadence taps of his fingers on his thighs while his eyes rove over the passing greenery.

You fracture the silence, experimentally proposing, "Move your hand away."

Yoongi gives you an inquisitive look before he espouses, leaning away from the car door. Then, you press a button and both of your windows roll down. You turn off the cooling system then turn the rotary button above the rear mirror to unbar the sunroof.

"Better?" you query with a soft smile.

"Anything is better," Yoongi admits. "But I can't hear the song now," he adds jokingly.

You giggle, clicking your tongue to which he regards you with a jest expression. "That means you should turn it up, Yoongs."

He finally discerns your message and switches up the mood of the radio. Once again, you're both lost in the ocean of your reveries, with Yoongi congruously leading the small concert session you're having.

You couldn't control the hysterics you're erupting whenever he exaggerates a certain lyric, even attempting to mimic the sounds of instruments. And if those didn't make you reach the peak of your convulsions, the strumming of his fingers on an imaginary guitar and the slapping of his hands on his knees to impersonate a drummer undoubtedly did the trick.

You both don't know for how long you were immersed in your plenary but you finally catch a glimpse of a small hut appearing in your line of sight. You slow down the car and notify, "I caught something on our radar."

Yoongi follows your gaze and accords, "Let's take a stop there."

He initiates to close the windows and sunroof while you focus on parking the truck on a muddy spot, leaving the cement road you were more accustomed to. Then, you both exit the vehicle. Before moving on, he takes both of your backpacks from the cargo bed. The sounds of engine and whirring wind are immediately replaced by the sounds of nature; croaking frogs, clucking chickens, chirping squirrels, tweeting birds, buzzing bees, and more.

Yoongi walks ahead, making a beeline for the hut. You both tramp on soil before finally stepping on the familiar material of wood. The place is almost a ramshackle but you can tell that its built is stalwart and probably withstood a lot of storms already so you didn't doubt that the hut will not collapse on you. Your eyes wander on the ceiling fan, stirring soft winds towards your face, then on the bamboo-made benches on either end of the hut. Yoongi ambles to the center where you finally take notice of the long wooden desk. You realize that the hut is a reception area.

Trailing behind his steps, Yoongi props an arm on the desk and begins to inquire the receptionist.

Your focus on their exchange falters as you survey your surroundings more, even squinting your eyes to try and make out what was beyond the forest. You hear words and sentences along the lines of one night, camping, waterfalls, and other accommodations.

You disconnect from your trance when you feel the softness of a palm land on the small of your back.

"Let's go?" Yoongi asks you with a soft smile when your eyes meet, and you merely nod.

The two of you leave the reception area and approach a trail of cobblestone stairs with moss serving as fleece of the steps. "So, what did the receptionist say?"

"I booked us a cabin for tonight," he informs, lifting a key fob for you to see. "She said there's kayaking on the river. And we have the option to hike to the waterfalls and dive first before doing so."

You hum in response and the conversation quiesces. He lets you walk ahead of him so that when you slip, he would be there to catch you. Occasionally, he would break the silence to alert you of accumulated moss on the steps and tell you to avoid them because they're slippery.

Once you finally reach a flat ground after trekking, you groan in fatigue, bending down to massage your knees while Yoongi situates himself beside you, looking down at you with amusement tinkling his eyes.

"Tired already?" he teases. "We're not even halfway through the day. Come on, slowpoke. We have a waterfall left to hike up."

You whine, punching him lightly on the shoulder. "Can you just do it alone instead? I can just take a video of you from below while you flail in the air like a fish."

He shots you a jokingly offended look. "Rude," he says.

"You started it!" you protest, crossing your arms and stomping your foot.

He chuckles, finding your little tantrum adorable. So, he pulls you to his side, wrapping his arm around your shoulder while you continue to spew strings of curses at him.

Nevertheless, he doesn't let you go. He banters with you, and urges you to keep on walking.

︶︶︶⠀୨♡୧⠀︶︶︶

As soon as you and Yoongi checked into the cabin, and dressed into your swimming garments, you both barge outside the place deliriously and challenge each other on whoever reaches the river first.

You aren't keen on the idea at first because Yoongi has the favorable position of having better stamina than you do. But your smaller physique gave you the advantage of feasibly winning.

In fits of mirths, you relent yourselves into the adrenaline rush, excitement, and zealous passion to obtain triumph at the end of your friendly race.

After Yoongi counts down, you dash towards the cobblestones, and you can hear the vigorous footsteps of your friend trailing behind you. Both of your irregular breaths and unceasing giggles resonate through the forest, urging the both of you to speed up even more.

All throughout the race, you never looked back, casting all of your attention ahead of you to make sure that you also didn't slip because you might end up becoming a loafer if you get injured.

Eventually, your feet lands on a flat ground and the sound of your uneven breaths is drowned with the sudden sound of splashing water nearby. You look ahead of you, seeing the crystalline water reflecting the light of the sun towards you.

It blinds you for a moment then suddenly, a realization dawns on you. You pivot around and your eyebrows crease when you didn't see Yoongi.

He was just right behind me earlier.

As your eyes rove to look for a specific male with ginger hair, you don't detect the footsteps tiptoeing behind you. A yelp escapes your lips when you're lifted off the ground. You catch a glimpse of marmalade, confirming your intuition that it was no other than Yoongi who briefly took your ability to walk by yourself.

His gaiety rings in your ears as he carries you towards the direction of the river. You finally realize what he's about to do so you start wriggling in his hold, eyes enlarging.

"Oh, no, no, no! Yoongi! Don't you dare!"

Your warnings only intensify his scheme and the sight of the raging waters magnifies in your sight. You shut your eyes and brace yourself for the impact, and Yoongi throws you into the waves.

Your whole body submerges underneath, the air promptly unplugged. It reminds you of the sleepless nights in the suffocation of your own room. The nightmares of your failures replaying beyond your subconsciousness like a broken vinyl that's maladaptive.

You flounder beneath the waves before you finally found the momentum to swim above the surface.

When you open your eyes and gasp for air, the horrifying panoramas instantly subside. But that isn't what completely makes your ponderous heart repose. Because what greets you abovewater is the elated smiles of Yoongi, who you found swimming along with you in the spates of waves. His smile is as bright as his locks. And unlike you, he seems to be much more relaxed, as if he was very used to going along the course.

His touch is electrifying when his hands slither around your waist, hoisting you so that you wouldn't drown. Apparently, you were stunned and lost the ability to float yourself. Nonetheless, he still embraces you while you wrap your arms around his neck. You both follow the flow of the river.

It goes like that for a few seconds, and the seconds last ephemeral much to your dismay. As quick as the river flows, his warmth leaves you, causing you to feel a sudden void in your chest at the disconnection.

He swims towards the side, with you following suit, and hoists himself to sit on the grass before helping you to escape the ferocious waters.

You plop beside him, exhaust breaths leaving your lips. And once you've regained the regular pulsing of your heart, you punch Yoongi's shoulder. He yips, caressing his shoulder.

"Why'd you do that?" he bemoans, still stroking his skin that was starting to turn the darker shade of his hair.

"Because you threw me in the water!" You didn't mean to seethe, but your words came out that way so Yoongi actually pays attention to you this time, his pained expression swiftly morphing into genuine concern.

"Hey, are you mad? I'm sorry, I thought you would be up for it—"

"No!" you quickly stop him. "It's not that— fuck, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to sound mean..." you peter off, sighing deeply.

"Are you okay?" Yoongi asks. His hand rests on your bare knee, and the mere action extinguishes your anxiety. His soothing touch lulls you into tranquility.

"Yeah, I am," you let out, and don't say more.

"Do you want to talk about it?" he prods you that manages to emit you the smallest of smiles.

You're touched by his gentleness. You turn your head to face him, your breath hitching momentarily once your round eyes collided with his feline ones. The ebullient expressions he had earlier are now gone. Worry creases his forehead instead and you resist the temptation to kiss it away at that moment, so you opt to look at his nose instead.

"Honestly, Yoongi," you begin. "The reason why I agreed so quickly to you when you told me to get ready because we're going on a trip is because I needed to take a break from life."

He hums, his focus solely on your face that it was making you feel exposed. You feel the shades of carnations coating your cheeks so you continue to speak in hopes of distracting yourself.

"It's nothing that serious, really," you half-lie. "I guess... I just remembered some of my blockmates who kept on freeloading. I caught all of the stress because, well, who would do the work if not me?"

You start to fidget with your fingers underneath the piercing gaze of your friend.

Yoongi sighs and you become aware of his hand on your knee which was drawing small circles. It left you a trail of goosebumps in your skin but you were glad that you had a convenient excuse to say if he notices.

"I'm sorry if I wasn't there for you in the times you were struggling."

Your head cranes up to look at him, eyes widening. His guilty gaze meets your appalled ones and you feel a painful tug in your chest.

"I swear, Yoongi," you reassure him. "It's nothing too deep. And it's not your fault. You didn't know."

"Still, I am sorry," he insists. "Because you remembered them because of me."

You quiver slightly because you interpreted his words differently. He still doesn't know about the real turmoil you're fighting inside. Now, your own guilt is gnawing at you because you just ruined the mood of the vacation. You two are supposed to be having fun and yet here you were, sulking because you couldn't keep your shit together. Because you're a drama queen who hyperbolizes everything.

Even you can't comprehend yourself.

You plant your face in your palms. "I'm sorry, Yoongi. I ruined the mood. We're supposed to be enjoying this getaway."

He pulls your hands off of your face and places his finger under your chin to lift it up. "Hey, don't blame yourself. It's okay. You know, whatever we do in this trip— cry, thrash, or laugh, I'll still cherish every moment of it because it's with you."

You swear you saw something different gleam behind his irises, but in a blink of an eye, it vanishes and you're left to mull on whether you were imagining things or not. However, your own heartstrings strummed as well, giving you no time to dwell anymore.

"Do you still wanna jump off the waterfall?" he asks you, halting your trance. "Maybe you'll feel better after doing so. You can leave all the negative emotions on top of the fall before diving."

"How can you make waterfall-diving sound so enticing?"

Your genuine question breaks the tension between you two and your nose scrunches in confusion when Yoongi chortles, shaking his head. He stands up, dusting the dirt from his soaked clothes before offering you his hand.

You enclose your fingers around his palm, relishing the warmth he instantly transfers from him to you.

Hand in hand, you both trek for the waterfall.

︶︶︶⠀୨♡୧⠀︶︶︶

Having an immense trust for Yoongi, you never doubt his advice that after free diving, your visceral will ameliorate. And it did the trick. Your worries that had been pummeling you hands you mercy, and you clamp your hand around it, even just for a moment.

By the time you both retire for the night in your cabin, the sun had done the same. The sky is smeared with ebony and grape tints. Wraiths in the form of moonlight whisper sweet dreams to the blanketed sun, wistfully wishing that the next morning will be lenient to you.

You volunteer to concoct dinner since it was your specialty and Yoongi is beyond ecstactic that he will finally get to have a taste of your "masterpiece" after awhile (as he claims) to which you only bashfully chuckle at.

As you start to gather the ingredients from earlier's mini grocery shopping, you hear Yoongi meandering around the small living room. Then, he stops and watches you for a few minutes with propped arms on the counter until he finally decides to take a quick shower and attempt to have a power nap.

When his presence leaves you all alone to your thoughts, you suddenly feel apprehensive about doing all this. But it was too late to back out now and it's only fair for your friend that it should be you who prepares your meal because it's where you're supposed to be good at. Shuddering lightly, you hope that it's because of the sudden blow of the night chilly air that nips at your skin and not because of another reason.

The knife in your hold shakes and you struggle to press it down on a bulb of garlic. You latch your wrist with your other free hand, hoping you will stop quivering. You clamp your eyes shut, placing the knife down on the cutting board as you try to regain your senses.

What's happening to you? Why are you so worried? It's only Yoongi.

Your eyes shoot open. Gradually, the ruthless poison ivy choking you relents, allowing you to breathe in through your nose and exhale through your mouth.

That's right. It's just Yoongi. And you have nothing to worry about with him.

You retrieve your strength and you finally proceed to make a meal without any intrusion. After what felt like hours, you're finally placing the two seasoned salmons in the oven. You squat in front of the appliance for awhile, puffing out small breaths because only then did your body registers your exhausted state.

Your hunched form causes your muscle fatigue, so you had to stand up right away to your dismay. You waddle towards the other side of the kitchen as you wait for the salmon to cook, and you start to clean up your station.

The stray strands of your hair keep falling on your face and every now and then, you had to throw your head back to get them out of the way. It becomes frustrating as each second passed by. As you drop the utensils on the sink, a few locks block your sight again. Huffing in annoyance, you were about to swat it away again when two hands appear in front of you out of nowhere.

They gather your strayed locks and nudge them into the back of your head. That's when you unexpectedly feel the presence of another warm body standing behind you. His soft breaths caress your cheek as he tilted his head slightly to check if he hadn't left any strand.

You still as Yoongi smoothly ties your hair, cheeks reddening at his initiative. You wonder how long had he been there witnessing your little distress. And the thought that he had been watching you let out whispers of profanities at the simple problem spurs your cheeks to warm further along with the peculiar feeling in your chest.

He pats your head fondly and you blink, turning your head to face him. Yoongi remains in his stance at your back, a soft smile painting his chapped lips. He tucks baby strands of your hair behind your ear and you suddenly wonder why you're incapable of speech.

Fortunately, he finally speaks, unconsciously intervening with the burgeoning typhoon in your heart that is still inexplicable to you.

"What's for dinner?"

"Salmon," is your implied verbose response yet he stays where he is, tipping his head as a way to prod you to elaborate. "Butter-baked salmon," you finally say.

He furrows his eyebrows in befuddlement. "You don't have a real name for it?"

"Huh?" you dumbly express.

With a cheeky grin, he playfully flicks your forehead. Your hand instinctively flats against it, stroking the skin. "What was that for?!" you squawk.

"You're just so out of it! Had it been awhile since you last cooked?" he pokes.

"It's been a week!" you confirm. "Semestral break, remember? And even so, that doesn't mean my cooking skills did decline!"

Your annoyed state comes across as whines to Yoongi and he couldn't resist pinching your cheeks for the second time that day. With your still stained hands, you couldn't retaliate so you stomp your feet and he finally surrenders. But not without giving you a last poke at your side.

"I swear, I'll give you the smaller piece!" you threaten.

Yoongi exaggeratingly gasps and wheedles you to forgive him. At his attempts, you playfully shake your head but when he offers to do the dishes that night, you finally yield.

And for the rest of the night which felt the longest one to you in awhile, instead of the poison ivy you've become desensitized to, you feel marigold flourishing in your heart instead.

They wrap around you in a manner that doesn't exhilarate you. It doesn't feel monotonous either. It's the perfect amount of ataraxy. You don't know if it's because of the meal you've prepared that tasted more than its usual savory, or if it's because of the serene ambience enveloping you.

Or, if it's because of the presence of the reassuring person sitting across you, the quintessence of solace of his words and stories that come across to you as poems and symphonies.

Your smile feels natural the moment you curve your lips upward when he tells you jokes. You feel at ease in expressing your astonishment or enthusiasm whenever he tells you a few of his anecdotes.

For once in awhile, you don't feel the dread of the night.

Because Min Yoongi is the beacon that lights your path that night in the infinite sea.

︶︶︶⠀୨♡୧⠀︶︶︶

The next day, with the sun at its summit, you're both back on the road. You both relish the congenial silence that envelopes the two of you, mellow tunes complementing the atmosphere.

After a few more kilometers, the air feels different. It's breezy, refreshing. And the roots of tall trees morph into beige grains. Opaque vicinities turning transparent as trunks slim and grow, then you can finally have a glimpse of blue waves crashing against the shore, the horizon becoming more evident to you.

"Wanna take a detour?"

Yoongi's suggestion is what breaks the long silence between you. He acknowledges your nod and minutes later you both find yourselves sitting on sand, sharing two boxes of fruit juice. The seagulls' squawks serves as your background noise for awhile before you suddenly blurt out a question before your brain even internalizes it.

"Are you happy?"

You feel Yoongi's gaze burning on your side profile. "Where's this coming from?"

"Nothing. I'm just curious, is all." You shrug nonchalantly, sipping on your juice.

Candidly, it is not the whole truth, because you're genuinely curious about Yoongi's well-being and current mental state. In the back of your mind, you wonder if he's also going through the same sufferings as you. Deep inside, you wonder if the cheerful attitude he's showing you is a facade, masking his true feelings.

You ponder if he sought you the way you sought him. Trepidation crawls over your skin because you're worried that maybe, you're not the suitable person to be with him at this moment. That maybe, you had been doing something wrong. It's vexatious that you can't help but think this way because you were, unfortunately, a veteran overthinker.

His voice fills your ears. "Well… if you're referring to right now, I can say that I am happy."

You furrow your eyebrows, scrutinizing the meaning behind his words. He might be hinting to you that he's going through something but when you glance over him, you don't see any indication of it. Come to think of it, he never told you why he wanted to "run away" with you in the first place. You were so fervid to escape your own shadows that you forgot to even ask what was Yoongi feeling.

Guilt gnaws you, nibbling your lip that draws rivulets of scarlet. You lick it away, the metallic taste soothing you momentarily.

You tread, gauging for his reaction inconspicuously. "When was the last time you felt sad?"

He takes a sip of his own juice then proceeds to look at the nutrition facts, as if they were the most interesting things at that moment.

"Just recently, when I had this project. We had to draw our own living rooms."

"That doesn't seem so bad. You're good at drawing. What happened?"

Yoongi meets your gaze, chuckling in a tone that you can't decipher whether it had a bitterness in it. "Well, I don't think I've mentioned this to you before but I'm extremely terrible in capturing depths and perspectives, and instilling them on my drawings."

"I didn't know you touched architecture too," is what you simply say. It's a safe response in case Yoongi doesn't feel comfortable to open up to you, but sufficient to also let him know that he can confide to you.

"Me neither." He licks his lips, an unreadable expression etched across his features. "Never expected it. That's why I was so stressed all throughout the process of it. I barely made the passing score, but don't worry. After a few days, I got over it."

Something tells your gut that he's convincing himself more than he's reassuring you. You decide to grant him a brief silence, basking the sea breeze kissing your cheeks softly.

"How do you feel about it now?" you bravely ask, keeping your eyes ahead.

It took him a few seconds before he finally answers, "I'm not dwelling on it that much as before now. And I think I should focus on doing my best at the field I'm good at, impressionism."

You hum, mulling over his response. Somehow, you feel the need and want to assure him.

"You're doing great, Yoongi. You worked hard for every grade you got. It's just that everyone has different standards."

Hypocrite.

You ignore the cruel voice in your head.

"Thank you, Y/N." You don't see his face but you can imagine the way his eyes light up at your words, his signature gummy smile painting his lips.

"Why are you curious all of a sudden though?"

His question catches you off-guard because he had already asked it before. You know that you're being a hypocrite because you can't divulge like he just did. You know it's unfair for him, but with how stubborn you are, you just can't allow yourself to open up your feelings because you can't forgive yourself.

You can't forgive yourself when you fail yourself. When you fail others. When you repeat the same mistakes. When you weren't there for the people who needed you during their shortcomings, because you're busy wallowing yourself in self-pity — even doing that makes you feel shit. When you do nothing to solve about your problems. When you run away instead. When you're happy. When you're sad.

So, of course, you push everything away. Because the one thing you allow yourself to do, is to give yourself a hard time. Because you think it's what you deserve.

So, of course, you dodge the question again.

"It's nothing, really. We weren't able to talk that much whenever we're busy with university, so I just wanted to catch up with you." You hope the smile that you return to him doesn't look forced because you can't afford another screw up.

The gut-wrenching swell on your chest further heightens, and you force yourself to swallow it.

"That's thoughtful of you. But, are you sure? You don't need to tell me anything?" He scoots closer towards you, his arm brushing against yours.

To say you're bewildered is an understatement. Because in that mere, small occurrence — at that featherlight action, Yoongi had once again manage to annihilate your asphyxiation, and you can finally breathe properly again.

"I really am okay, Yoongi. Don't worry about me."

Another half-lie and half-truth. You encage yourself in the prison walls you built yourself. But for some unfathomable reason, you have incognizantly constructed a door — a door so minuscule, and Yoongi had the key to it.

He unlocks the door and opens it, walking into the crevasses of your heart.

"I hope your words match your feelings. Please know that whenever you want to tell me anything, literally anything, I assure you that I'll listen."

This time, your smile reaches your eyes. "Thank you, Yoongi."

Whenever I'm ready. Alright.

You don't know when you'll ever be ready. But looking at Yoongi, you don't want to ever see him crestfallen. Therefore, the odds of not ever being ready was higher.

You don't want to drag him down along with you. Because the last thing that you ever desired is to see him in agony.

You want to protect your safe haven. Protect him from danger. Protect him from yourself.

︶︶︶⠀୨♡୧⠀︶︶︶

What you both planned to be a detour turns out to be the place you'll be spending your whole day at. The calm waves of clear waters on white sands, and the sapphire sky with white streaks made you two like fishes, successfully baited to stay.

Yoongi's busy setting up your tent while you sit quietly on one of your folding chairs, spectating your best friend's struggle. He would emit small irritated grunts every now and then, and mutter incoherent words to himself. Your lips would twitch into a smile whenever he unintentionally puckers his bottom lip or suck the air between his teeth.

You just sit there for awhile, admiring his presence before you finally decide to leave the comfort of your chair, ambling towards the still struggling Yoongi.

"Need help?" you quip, hands pocketed in your loose sports shorts.

From his squat position, Yoongi looks up to you, squinting his eyes because of the sunlight imparing his vision temporarily. His pout becomes more salient, emitting a giggle from you when he grumbles, "So nice of you to finally join me."

"Hey, I'm sorry, alright!" You bite your lip in attempt to halt your giggles. "I just thought you had everything under control like you said earlier."

Yoongi droops his eyes then leaves his position, now towering over your smaller form. The sudden swing of confidence from a few seconds ago instantly dwindles now that he's standing a head taller over you. Nonetheless, you cross your arms, hoping that the sassy action will mask your sudden nervousness.

What a weird feeling. You think to yourself.

"Oh yeah?" he lazily voices, taking a bold step closer to you, diminishing the distance between your warm bodies in an alarming amount.

Your feet stay planted on the ground and you wonder why you don't move an inch away from him.

He whispers balefully, "You wanna see how I have things under my control?"

You stare up at him with curious doe eyes. And then, his ominous gaze shifts into fright. His eyes leave yours and trails down before he unexpectedly shrieks, "There's a crab! It's going to snap your toes!"

You vociferate a shrill ear-splitting scream, resonating throughout the broad beach. Jumping and bounding into Yoongi, you shrink against his chest, both of your feet gliding against the mounds of sands. Deep laughter rumbles from his pectus but quickly disrupts as you both gravitate towards the ground. Yoongi falls on his back with a yelp while you follow, landing on top of him.

He grunts below you, his hands falling on both sides of your waist.

You don't realize the position you're both in for you keep clutching on his knitted cardigan, crawling above him in terror, hoping to escape the crab.

But when you look ahead your feet, you see nothing but sand. That doesn't derail your palpitating heart. Your eyes mimic that of a vagabond, desperately trying to look for the snappy creature because frankly, not seeing the enemy is a ton worse than seeing it.

Alas, you don't see the creature and you halt your panicky state, the realization finally dawning on you.

There wasn't any crab in the first place.

Yoongi only bluffed. And now, you find yourself in a strange, nerve-wracking situation.

When you muster the courage to look up at him, he's already staring, mirth and mischief glimmering from his irises. Your heartrate pounds against your chest, and you desperately wish that the clothes serving as the only barricades between you two are doing their best in concealing your palpitations.

His heavy-lidded eyes are locked with yours, freezing you in your place. The galaxy in his eyes are absorbing you further to get lost in his gaze like a blackhole slowly but surely swirling around you. You can see a lot of stories hidden within the depths of his pupils but they're out of your reach because of their nebulosity.

It doesn't feel real to you when he nudges his face closer toward yours, decreasing the gap between your faces until—

CAW!

You scramble to your feet in surprise, looking up to see a crow flying in circles around the two of you. Meanwhile, Yoongi groans, still flat against the sand. You shoot a glare at him, grabbing a fistful of sand and pummeling it towards him. The grains hit his face and he coughs and sneezes, earning a giggle from you.

"Not the face!" he exclaims, rising to his own feet, stumbling in the process. He glowers at you while you only blow a raspberry at him.

"You seem giddy now." He cackles, dusting the sand off of his outfit. "You should've seen your face— you were so frightened, it's so hilarious!"

You smack the back of his head and he yips, leaping away from your reach.

"Not a word, Yoongi!" you squall. "Why would you lie about a crab that was about to snip my feet?!"

"You started it!" he protests, flailing his arms. You attempt to swing a kick at him but he expertly dodges it, grabbing the opportunity to pull your arm and flush you against his chest.

The familiar and odd feeling of your heart hammering against your ribcage returns. But Yoongi seems oblivious to your (once again) frozen state as he ruffles your hair playfully.

You squirm in his hold and when he finally releases you, you regain the usual pulsation of your heartbeat. You're starting to consider consulting a doctor after the getaway because you've been having these heart palpitations for awhile now.

Yoongi leaves you with your thoughts, hollering ahead of you, "We better set the tent quicker! The sun's about to descend."

︶︶︶⠀୨♡୧⠀︶︶︶

Two hours later, the tent is standing robustly on the sand and the firewood is crackling flames. It's your second night of the trip. Comfortable silence accompanies your sunset-gazing, watching the sun gradually disappear below the horizon until the sky is left with plum and indigo pigment streaks.

Yoongi clears his throat that pulls you out of your reverie, shifting your attention to him. He's toasting your marshmallow on a stick.

The flames complement his hair color, making him resemble an angel. He's glowing underneath the obsidian sky, his ethereal features more prominent.

He's so pretty.

"A penny for your thoughts?" His breathy and husky voice ushers you to look at his face, and you feel your cheeks warm, as if you were a deer caught on headlights.

"Why'd you choose red-orange?"

It's truly a part of what you've been thinking about, but you also didn't want Yoongi to think that you were a creep for staring at him for so long.

"Why? Does it look weirder the more you look at it?" He hands your marshmallow, the top slightly burnt then skims his fingers along his ginger locks.

You munch on the soft mallow while murmuring your response, "Oh, no. I'm just wondering 'cause the last time I saw you, it was a darker shade."

Yoongi hums thoughtfully, leaning back against the folding chair with both of his hands raising to rest behind his head. He presses his lips into a thin line, mirroring a certain keyboard symbol.

"Do you want the short and simple version or the long and in-depth one?" he finally says.

You scoff lightly, bemused at his question. Your reaction causes him to chuckle, ushering you to pick one already.

"Both," you decide.

"Oh, you're really not letting me get away from this, huh." He raises an amused eyebrow at you, smile never leaving his lips as he bites on his own marshmallow.

"Yeah, well, I'm really curious, okay! Now, shoot your story." You beckon, spreading your arms sassily.

"Okay." He chortles at the action before shifting his expression to a serious one.

"Well, I personally don't like how orange looks next to my skin. While red, is too strong. It makes me look like a devil."

You muse, "But red-orange doesn't seem too far from both colors."

"Yeah, I know. But for me, the shade made a big difference."

"That's some deep shit right there."

Your comment makes him scoff, while you give him a brazen smirk. Truthfully, what he said seemed like a quote to you. It reminds you that the smallest things really did have the biggest impacts sometimes.

It makes you wonder if Yoongi saw you that way. If you're one of the small parts of his life that contributes greatly to his overall well-being and continuous personality and attitude development. Or perhaps if you belonged in a bigger scale, a very significant person in his life.

Just like how he is that person to you.

"Okay, but really, why that color?" you finally ask for the deeper explanation.

He doesn't answer you immediately and you think that maybe he's trying to formulate a comprehensible explanation.

Then, he finally replies, "I guess it's because the two colors evoke some sort of emotions from me." He licks his lips and you heed that his gaze started to wander everywhere, a little habit of his that you've noticed that he does whenever he's nervous.

"I don't know if it makes any sense, maybe it's a visual arts student thing, but red reminds me a lot about my passion for art, you know. But I still didn't go for that solid color because like I said earlier, people might perceive me as a delinquent."

He pauses and lets out a laugh that is neither bitter nor sweet, so you can't tell what exactly he felt at telling you the last sentence.

He continues, "Anyways, while orange... it's a product of red and yellow. Aside from passion, red may mean hostility or anger, and such vehement emotions, while yellow is the opposite. It's optimistic, upbeat, hopeful. And they balance each other, don't you think?"

He stops again to gaze at you, eyes finally steady and you're aware that he had become less uptight, his words seemingly flowing seamlessly.

His last words are what makes you truly awestruck. Because they strucked a certain chord in your heartstrings that had it swelling. It's painful, raw, and consoling all at the same time.

"Because they have something in common. Warmth and comfort."

The silence that blankets the both of you is homely. His words process in your mind, the gears turning in your brain while he only stares at you, patiently waiting for your response.

Truth behold, you were rendered speechless. And you couldn't equal his lyrical interpretation so all you say is,

"I never imagined that you had such profound outlook on colors."

He nods in agreement, sending you a soft smile that quilts your heart with warmth.

"Me neither, I mean at first, of course. But the more I studied art, the more I fell in love with it," he explains, his feline eyes sparkling and you could see how feverish he is with his passion.

"It keeps me... level-headed too, if you know what I mean. Sometimes, life throws shit at you and you have to find that one thing that keeps you in the surface. For my case, it's art."

He ends it there, the denouement so clear yet so ambiguous at the same time. Yoongi truly amazed you. His words are so compelling that you can't help but surrender to him.

"What about you?"

You're taken aback by his question so you dumbly say, "Huh. What about me?"

He chuckles at your befuddlement, "Silly, I told you about my major. It's fair you also tell me yours."

"Oh, so you're a strong believer of an eye for an eye." Your remark renders him into a fit of giggles, the notes of his laughters becoming your lullaby.

"Funny, but no. I just want to know as well, since we both kinda have similar majors. Culinary is art too."

You release a deep sigh and accord, "Yeah, it is. But I look at it way differently than you do. I focus more on the precision of food preparation, make sure that there isn't a single blotch present on the plating because one stray dot, or a mere grain of rice falling from its place—" You shake your head, "—ruins the whole dish. You could say that I'm a perfectionist freak."

"Damn," Yoongi peters off before asking, "If you look at it that way though... doesn't it stress you more?"

"If I don't look at it that way, it would upset the customers."

Your answer makes him silent. You don't know if he's aware of your perturbation. But if he is, he doesn't show it through his actions.

"But have you ever thought of the instance that maybe the customers wouldn't be too disappointed because, well, surely they will recognize the effort you've put in to serve them a dish that will appeal them."

He obliviously shows it through his words. It's another bullseye to you and you wonder if you're that so easy to read. Or, if Yoongi just really knew the right words to say.

"I haven't... thought about it that way..." you admit, nibbling on your bottom lip.

You're absolutely aware that your anxiety is becoming more and more evident with the way you were fidgetting with your hands, your body quivering slightly both because of the chilly air and that certain feeling crawling up on your skin once again.

"Mm, not everything has to be perfect, Y/N. But, it's also not wrong to aim being a perfectionist. It's the way how you do it. If you're open to mistakes and failure, it gives you more chances to improve. Failing is also a part of perfecting. They go hand in hand."

His voice keeps you grounded and you don't realize that you've been holding your breath until you feel Yoongi's soft palm resting over yours that had been fisting your sweat pants.

"You're making me cry, Yoongi. Why do you have to be such a deep talker?" You try to make it sound like you're joking, but your voice brittles at the end.

There was no way to hide what you're truly feeling now. Yoongi isn't dense, you know that.

But it makes you feel pathetic. You feel like you didn't deserve to cry there and then, because if you break at that moment, everything you've ever held in will account for nothing.

"I'm sorry," he genuinely says, drawing small circles on the back of your hand. "I don't mean to make you cry."

"Yeah, I know." You laugh bitterly, the next words falling into whispers, "You always know what to say... it's breaking and easing me at the same time..."

Yoongi doesn't catch what you said.

"What's that?"

"Nothing, I just said that I know it wasn't your intention." You blink away the tears that are threatening to fall. Then, with the most unfeigned smile you could muster, you bravely face him. "And don't worry, I'm not actually gonna cry. It's a metaphor."

You're glad that it's dark because Yoongi takes the bait. At least, that's what you think.

"Are you gonna start speaking in figures of speech?"

"Oh, shut up," you say, chortling at his jest.

The heavy tension soon simmers, and you're grateful that you didn't fall apart in front of Yoongi. But of course, you're also incognizant.

You're oblivious of the fact that he knows that deep inside of yourself, you wanted to collapse. That you wanted to break free from your own shadows at that moment. That you yearned to forgive yourself.

But you still couldn't so he gives you your own space. Even though he severely wanted to yell at you right there and then — scold you to stop giving yourself a hard time. To stop putting him in a pedestal. He wanted you to know that he also has his own flaws. He wanted to let you know that you were perfectly imperfect.

But he didn't explode to you that night, because he wants to treat you with the utmost care as much as possible. He wants to be patient with you — wait for you until you can finally let yourself loose.

He will gently guide you — light your path, and lead you slowly but surely to fully embrace both your flaws and strengths. Be your sanctuary. He wants you to feel what you've been making him feel.

︶︶︶⠀୨♡୧⠀︶︶︶

You're in the middle of the dark waters once again. Like the other night, the familiar serpent crawls over your legs, hurling you deeper and deeper into the abyss.

The pressure that rings in your ears feel all too real, the memories of your failures echoing around you while you desperately try to search for the source of the deafening voices.

Underneath the torrential waves, you furrow your eyebrows, because all the voices sounded the same. Too familiar. It's thunderous, the distinct roar making you wince.

And then everything turns bright.

You don't feel yourself floating. Instead, you were lying comfortably on a bed of flowers. The petals tickle your cheeks, causing you to smile at the sensation. It's so warm, so reassuring.

The flowers begin to feel real in your hold and you can't stop yourself from caressing their softness. It's too real, too tangible.

When you open your eyes, you feel something heaving against your face. It's soft and tepid, almost lulling you back to slumber.

Yoongi's hands feel like home around your sides. And your own hands fit perfectly around his waist. You feel like two missing puzzle pieces that had finally found their pair.

His soft breaths kiss the top of your head. Carefully craning your head upwards, the sight of Yoongi's serene state welcomes you. His lips are slightly parted and his face is relieved of all kinds of creases and wrinkles.

In your hazy state in a too early morning, you bury your face into his chest, his heartbeat serving as your lullaby as you slowly fall back into the most peaceful slumber you've ever had in the longest time.

︶︶︶⠀୨♡୧⠀︶︶︶

When the skies are sapphire and the sun is painting everything on its way vibrantly, Yoongi drives until the blue waters disappear from sight, until the white sands turn into green meadows.

He drives along the long path until you leave the outskirts, and the familiarity of small establishments appear in your eyesights.

You both had end up in a small town so Yoongi slows down the car to give you both the time to admire the architecture styles of each building.

"I like how old-fashioned this town is," Yoongi comments and you nod in agreement.

"We should make a stop here," you suggest to which he immediately concurs.

He drives into a pay parking area and when both of your feet had landed on the gravel stones, you stretch your sore limbs that had been in the same idled position for hours.

Yoongi laughs at you and you shoot him a questionable gaze. "What's so funny? Aren't you aching?"

He shakes his head. "It's nothing, and I'm fine."

Yoongi thinks you're cute but he doesn't tell you that.

You shrug and say, "Suit yourself."

"Come on, let's make the most of our time." Yoongi offers you his hand to which you immediately interlace with yours. Your gaze lingers on your intertwined fingers for a beat longer than usual.

You're reminded of the time he pulled you around the clothing store, the fond memory still clear in your mind. Lips curving upward, you don't notice it until Yoongi points it out.

"What's with the smile?"

"I can smell coffee, I'm craving for it!" You smoothly dodge while Yoongi sniffs the air.

"You have a strong sense of smell," he muses.

This time, it's you who pulls him along, leading the way as you follow the aroma of coffee bean and apple cinnamon.

The bell dings upon your entrance to the coffee shop. In broad daylight, only a few tables are occupied because usually, the cafe's rush hours are during the nights.

"A medium Vanilla Cold Brew, no whipped cream, and less ice. And a tall Iced Americano, no water, with one shot of heavy cream and two pumps of vanilla syrup," you tell the cashier.

Beside you, Yoongi looks down on you with pure adoration in his eyes. When you two walk to the other end of the counter, you give him an inquisitive gaze.

"What?"

You watch as he stops fending his signature gummy smile from emerging. "You've memorized my order?"

You don't even realize how much of a surprisal that is to Yoongi. While you're confounded for a moment, he takes the leisure to map out the cute creases on your eyebrows and engrave them in his memory before he gently presses a thumb between your brows.

"It's what you always order whenever we have coffee break after school, how could I not remember it?"

He shakes his head at your nescience, his smile lines still visible to you. "What if I ask you why didn't you order your usual pastry to-go as well? Cheese rolls?"

Your cheeks suddenly feel warm despite of the frosty temperature inside the coffee shop. Now, you're aware of the meaning behind his words.

Chewing on your bottom lip, you mumble, "Well... they didn't have your favorite... Blueberry scones... So, I didn't want to eat without you doing so too."

A few moments ago, Yoongi could still feel his own heart beating against his chest. But now, he's certain that it had jumped away from his ribcage and took shelter in you.

But he doesn't tell you that.

Instead, he compliments you, "That's thoughtful of you, Y/N."

Your name rolls on his lips seamlessly, sounding like a melody to your ears. The thumping of your heart intensifies that you turn around to avoid Yoongi's piercing gaze.

What is going on with me?

At the same time, your name is called, the barista handing your orders. You nimbly take the tray and the both of you slide into a booth by the window to enjoy your caffeine drinks.

︶︶︶⠀୨♡୧⠀︶︶︶

By night time, the streets outside are crowded. Oceans of people bustle inside the cafe. You also both realized that you had been chatting away all your hours inside. However, both of you don't complain. Because you'd never ran out of topics.

With being in each other's presence, you both think that time is too short.

Yoongi leads you outside the coffee shop, the frigid air almost knocking you off your feet. The two of you navigate your way amongst the swarming people until Yoongi halts, and you almost crash against his back.

You peek over your shoulder and now you understand why Yoongi had stopped.

Lots of strings of lanterns hang above you, serving as stars to light up the onyx sky. Rows of food trucks and stalls fill the road with tons of various street foods displayed, luring you to check them all out.

"Hotteok!" you exclaim and pat your friend's arm excitedly, pointing at the nearest food truck.

Yoongi giggles, his gums in display, while you pull him to line up for the hotteok.

After obtaining the desired food, your eyes catch another delicacy, bungeoppang — and another, mandu — then another, tteokbokki— and another and another, the list going on. Before you both knew it, both of yours and Yoongi's hands are filled with paper cups and barbecue sticks.

Your cheeks are full, garbling words as you point another food stall.

As you take the first step to skip, Yoongi wraps an arm around you. Mildly confused, you look up at him to see him bowing apologetically to a stranger.

You swallow the fishcake before asking him, "What was that?"

Yoongi's soft reassuring smile comes into view. "It's nothing. We almost bumped into him."

"Oh, sorry, Yoongi. I didn't see him." You pout, casting your gaze down while he presses the back of his hand against your lower lip.

"It's okay. It wasn't a big deal," he reassures you.

Your smile returns and you both resume your food adventure.

For what seems like hours, you both try out every single street food in the bazaar. When you plop against one of the outdoor picnic benches, that's when you instantly feel the soreness of your legs.

Yoongi groans across you, massaging his knees. You volunteer to dispose all of your garbage since more than half of the cups and sticks that had food earlier are now chilling in the walls of your stomach.

You give Yoongi a smile before skipping away with the litters in your hands, searching for the nearest bin in the dark.

Squinting your eyes, you finally find one and skip towards it, shoving everything inside.

You were about to walk away but then you feel an ominous hunch in your gut when you can faintly hear footsteps crunching leaves behind you. They start to get louder as each second passed by before finally, you find the strength in your limbs to start walking when the footsteps stopped.

The baleful feeling in your chest doesn't spurn when the sound of the same footsteps return, trailing behind you — urging you to fasten your pace.

You're only a few away from reaching the crowded outdoor seating area and if you speed up only a tad bit, you'll be able to reach safety—

"Hey, over here, man!"

A stranger calls out, making you look at him. He runs towards your direction, passing by your back. And you grab the chance to sprint.

You run with the adrenaline rush coursing through your nerves, serving as the fuel to spur you faster.

The back of Yoongi comes into your line of sight that you impulsively yell—

"Yoongi!"

You crash into his chest, arms enveloping around his waist as you bury your head into the crook of his neck, ragged breaths escaping from your lips.

"Woah— hey. What happened?" Yoongi instinctively rubs your back soothingly, reciprocating your actions.

"Nothing," you blatantly lie. "Can we... stay like this for awhile?"

"Of course, but... you're worrying me, Y/N."

Yoongi doesn't object your sudden request. He could've relished the warmth you're giving him but he's more concerned about what happened to you. Taking deep breaths, Yoongi continues to rub your back, ushering you to follow his breathing pattern that will hopefully calm you down.

"I'm sorry," you say after you've regained your normal breathing. "It's just... I thought someone was following me."

"What?" You feel his body tense.

"Please don't look!" You tighten your grip around him. "I'm okay now," you continue in a calmer tone. "I didn't see him but he may have passed by us already."

Yoongi's chest heaves up and down, a deep exhale rumbling from his throat.

"I'm sorry for letting you go out there alone. I should've just gone myself instead."

"Hey, don't blame yourself, Yoongi. I volunteered to do it because you were already tired. And it's my fault, anyway. I shouldn't have recklessly—"

A string snaps in your heart, the maim provoking agony; it suddenly feels like you're having a difficult time breathing again. The only anchor you have is Yoongi at this moment. But, he's also the person you've now hurt.

"Don't be ridiculous, Y/N," he disrupts you, pulling away to look at you properly. His eyes are coated with pain, worry, ire, and sadness all at once. You can't decide which one is the worst. But they all make you cower under his gaze.

"You can't possibly be blaming yourself over something that obviously wasn't your fault," he rebukes, his fiery gaze scorching you. "Stop making it an unhealthy habit of throwing yourself under the bus. Do you understand what could've happened if you had gotten kidnap? Are you still going to beat yourself up if you end up in that kind of situation?! Not the one who wronged you?! Why can't you..." His tone simmers. "Why can't you forgive yourself?"

The bullet penetrates your skin. It feels so real, too real. Moreover, it's because Yoongi was the one behind the gun. And after hesitating for a lot of times, against his conscience, he finally pulls the trigger.

You can't even process his words; they blur along your vision. They dim until you can no longer see his face. Your hot tears had finally spilled and you surrender, clutching Yoongi's shirt and convulsing against him.

And he stays with you, never leaving your side as you submit yourself wholly into a state of vulnerability. The bottle that you've closed and kept for so long falls on the ground and crumbles, shards lacerating your skin.

"Why..." you choke out as you attempt to speak. "Why... is it so hard... to be happy, Yoongi?"

Vehement hot tears incessantly spill from your eyes, your sobs amplifying in the now almost-empty outdoor seating area. Yoongi makes you look at him, your red swollen eyes causing his heart to ache.

"You have to understand that happiness doesn't come instantaneous, Y/N," he tells you sweetly, with the utmost delicate tone laced in his voice. He lulls you to his saccharine smile, his hand tucking the strays of your hair and resting against your soft cheek. A simple action that protects you from peril.

Yoongi flutters his eyes close as he rests his forehead against yours. He whispers, "The wheel has to keep on turning, Y/N. Without sadness, you can never attain happiness. It takes time, and I promise you, everything will be worth it once you reach the top of the wheel."

You choke out a sob, leaning against his warmth, gripping tightly on his shirt as you brokenly say, "But it's too much, Yoongi... It hurts too much because I feel like I'm stuck at the bottom of the wheel. I can't push it to move."

He hushes your cries, wiping the tears away from your tainted cheeks. His touch is intricate, handling you as if you were a glass that must be treated with the utmost care and protection. "Maybe because you've been pushing the brakes for too long. Tell me, Y/N." He leans away to lift your chin up.

Your gazes collide like supernova, and suddenly all you can see and feel is him. You can see yourself in his glossy irises, mirroring your own pains, and you can't help but flush yourself against his chest, afraid that he might slip away from you too.

"When was the last time you allowed yourself to feel?"

His question draws you to dig within the trenches of your subconsciousness, but you can't remember anything. You can't recall the last time you've opened your arms to your own vulnerability. Because the answer is a long time ago.

And you realize how much you've kept everything inside. A small bottle where you locked all of your painful encounters away. The discernment a little too late that the container had overflown, and you spilled everything out convulsively.

The weight of the whole world seems to lift itself away from your shoulders, and now all you feel at this moment, with Yoongi by your side, is relief. Finally, a moment when breathing doesn't feel like you're getting asphyxiated.

When your loud sobs simmers to soft cries, Yoongi takes your hand and leads you both back into the car. He helps you get inside, protecting your head by hovering his hand on top of it.

By the time he's already behind the wheel, you've stopped crying. The bags under your eyes feel heavy, your energy drained from all the sobbing that you can only look ahead of you with a faraway gaze.

You feel Yoongi rest his hand on top of yours, his warmth instantly channeling to your body. It emits you a miniscule smile — barely even there but he catches it even in the dark.

Because for Yoongi, you're his light.

︶︶︶⠀୨♡୧⠀︶︶︶

Your hands are interlaced ever since Yoongi drove away from the town. They're resting on top of your thigh and your eyes linger on them for what felt like minutes before you trail your gaze to Yoongi's side profile.

You take in his beautiful features; his vermilion locks, pale round cheeks, his feline eyes that had the color of honey, irises swirling like sweet nectar — last but never the least, his pouty pink lips glimmering under the ascending sun, looking so soft and shiny, the temptation luring your mind to wander in your fantasies; how will it feel like pressing yours against his. Will it taste saccharine or salty? Will it slot against yours perfectly?

The beating of your heart drowns the sound of the throttling engine. And suddenly, everything to you makes sense. Your currently rising heartrate, the peculiar feeling of something fluttering in your abdomen, the electrifying tingles you constantly feel whenever your skin would connect with his.

His mere presence that is the epitome of your haven, your home, your —

Love.

It feels too overwhelming that you sharply retract your hand away from his and you look away, forcing yourself to watch the passing nature in your eyes.

"What's wrong?"

Yoongi's soothing tone warms you, but the heart-shaped lump that rises on your throat is difficult to swallow.

With shut eyes, you mumble, "Nothing. I just need some sleep."

You convince yourself more than you assure him, pushing away the inundating thoughts of his smile, his laughter, his mere voice sounding like music to your ears. Forcing yourself to sleep, it took you what felt like hours to do so.

When you woke up, you find yourself alone in the passenger's seat. The empty seat beside you slightly makes you feel lonely with a hint of relief. Because truthfully, your heart nerves are still erratically beating.

In attempts to calm yourself, you exit the vehicle and bask under the cold air that instantly nips your skin. It only takes you seconds to realize that you had a stop over in a gasoline station.

You realize that you had been zoning out when Yoongi ambles out of the store, two plastic bags in his hands. His marmalade hair steals your attention straight away. Shaking your head out of your daze, he invites you to sit on the cargo bed to have breakfast.

After hoisting both of yourselves behind, you make sure to leave a sufficient amount of space between you. Then, you both quietly eat your store-bought sandwiches.

Albeit the ambience around you is still, the sun barely rising from the horizon, your heart is undergoing a series of fluctuations. Every beating sound reverberates in your ears. Your mind is going haywire, spinning and whirling like a mayhem—

"How are you feeling?"

Yoongi's sudden question makes you flinch slightly. Looking for any sign that he noticed your distress, you see that he doesn't show it. The battering of your heart against your ribcage relents for now.

You swallow thickly, "I'm... better."

It's partly the truth. Truthfully, you're feeling a lot better after your breakdown last night. But, today, you're facing a different battle. It's different from the usual ones you have, and you have no idea how to deal with it.

It's a new feeling — both frightening and consoling. You're in a fight or flight situation.

"That's good to hear." He looks at you and you're instantly trapped under his gaze.

His smile is back, smile lines accentuating his beauty marks underneathe the honey rays.

"Remember, Y/N," he speaks to you tenderly. "One step at a time. Alright?"

You nod mutely, staring as he lifts one of his hand to tuck a few strands of your hair behind your ear. His knuckles brush againts your cheeks, rendering you to pull away from his touch, break the eye-contact, and look away.

The frown that etches his features comes unnoticed to you. Nevertheless, Yoongi respects your space, and reluctantly retracts his hand that was about to reach and touch you.

︶︶︶⠀୨♡୧⠀︶︶︶

Yoongi drives with you in the backseat of the truck. He keeps checking on you in the rear view mirror, fingers tapping on the stirring wheel. He can't seem to feel at ease. He had been fidgetting in his seat for the past half an hour, pouty lips protruding and cheeks hollowed.

Meanwhile, you have been doing your very best to avoid the questionable and piercing glances being thrown at you by your best friend.

Best friend. That's right, Y/N. You have to protect your friendship. Don't surrender yourself to your feelings again.

You keep replaying your mantra in your head again and again, hoping that your newfound feelings for Yoongi dissipates.

If only it was that easy.

A few more hours fly by, and the sun is finally at its crest. Yoongi parks in front of a diner while you swiftly unbuckle your seatbelt and exit the car with the engine still revving.

You were about to enter the diner when the call of your name halts you.

Your body tenses but you turn around to see Yoongi jogging after you.

"Hey—" He pants as if he had been on a marathon for hours. The truth is, his heart is also racing because you've been acting strange for the past few hours.

"Y/N, can we talk?"

You don't answer immediately, nibbling your lower lip. His eyes fall on your lips for a fleeting moment before forcing himself to look at your eyes instead when you nod your head.

"Have I done something to upset you?"

"No!" You quickly protest. "Why would you think that?"

Yoongi fiddles with his fingers, releasing a soft sigh. He contemplates whether on he should take a step closer to you or not. He wants you to be within his reach but he's uncertain if you'll allow him. Yet, he takes the risk, anyway.

"It's just..." He decreases the distance between you by an inch. "You've been distant since this morning."

You stay frozen in your place, your eyes looking everywhere but him. Yoongi takes your silence as the confirmation.

"So, there is something. What is it, Y/N? Is this about last night? Can you tell me? So that I'll never do it again."

He takes another step closer to you, but you push him away again by taking a step backward.

"That's not what I want, YoongI!" You flail your arms. Then, your tone wanes. "I... That's not the issue at all..." you stammer.

"What then?" Yoongi's heart cracks slightly, bracing for your verdict.

"I want you to keep doing it but..." you trail off. Shutting your eyes, you muster every bit of your courage to tell him. "I just hate myself for interpreting it differently when you've been doing it ever since we've become best friends."

"I'm not following, Y/N."

"Of course, you aren't!" You retort again. Taking a deep breath, you attempt to keep yourself level-headed. "I have to say it myself now, don't I? And this... might mark the ending of our friendship." Your voice fades, brittling slightly at the end.

"Why are you saying that?"

"Because I'm in love with you, Yoongi! I have been in love with you ever since before the moment I even realized it..."

Your heart combusts, and you realize that it was too late to take back your words. So, with every fiber in your body, you bravely meet his eyes.

"You're the warmth that I always seek for. Your gentleness and your tender touch... whenever you lace your fingers with mine, I can't help but stray towards the thought that maybe... you might feel the same way."

You sniffle lightly, your tears already welling up for the second time within twenty-four hours.

"But I know we're only friends, Yoongi. And you've been doing all those things— caring for me, spending time with me, affirming me, treating me— everything! And now, I have just made things complicated and I'm scared that you will just stop doing all of those. Because now, something changed."

You lower your head in shame, fisting your hands and closing your eyes. A few drop of tears falls to the ground, the spots turning the asphalt shades darker.

It's silent. Too silent. And you were about to take it as the indication that that was it — that everything is now over when—

"And what if I told you that you thought right?"

Your eyes snap open, head craning to look at Yoongi.

"What if I told you that my heart yearns for only you and nobody else?" he confesses, taking a bold step closer to you. This time, you don't push him away.

"You said it yourself, it wouldn't make any sense for me to stay close to you when I don't see you more than just... a friend. What if I told you that I had been longing for something more between us?"

Another step closer. "That the thought of making you mine crossed my mind a lot of times?"

Another step closer. "What if I told you that I love you? But not in the way I've said it before. I love you, Y/N. More than it encompasses friendship, more than as a partner— a lover."

He breathes deeply, and he lifts a hand to cup your cheek. "I wished there was a better word than love for me to be able to express what I truly feel for you."

You're truly stupefied. Not being able to utter a single word to his confession. Yoongi looks at you in a way that you've seen a lot of times from him already.

It's the same enamored eyes, the tender touches, the compassionate actions, the solaceful words.

"Just say the word, Y/N," he whispers. "And I'm all yours."

You concede, reaching to cup his cheek. He flutters his eyes close, leaning to your touch before you stand on your tiptoes and press your lips delicately on his.

You've traced everything — every feature of his lips, mapped out his smile lines and etched them into your mind. But until this very moment, your thoughts never did any justice into capturing the details of how warm and feathery it would feel to slot your lips in his.

He kisses you like his whole life depended on it.

He kisses you as if this was going to be the last time he'll feel your unwavering warmth morphing with his.

He kisses you delicately, taking his own time to explore every crevice of your soul — inhaling your vanilla scent, and ingraining them into his memory.

And you kiss him back with as much ardor.

You reciprocate every languid and fiery ember he gives you.

It was a long, long kiss full of passion, and love. It transcends the mind, the heart, and the soul. Every note and rhythm of each pulsating kiss is heartquaking.

Your heart spills unwanted tears, tainting your cheeks that Yoongi had to pull away, his warmth distinctively leaving you.

"I can't..." you brokenly say.

"Y/N..."

The shattered call of your name crushes your heart into pieces.

"Yoongi, I can't do this to you..." Hot tears spill from your eyes, the sensation burning every trail it falls into. "I'm broken and I don't want you fixing me. You can't be with someone who can't even love themselves—"

Yoongi hushes you, cupping your cheeks and making you look at him.

"Y/N, I don't care if... if we both end up getting broken. I'd rather be broken with you than spend my whole life in happiness, knowing that you aren't by my side. I don't care how much more we become destroyed because we can build ourselves again.

It doesn't matter if we fall again, because it's a part of the process. Each time we fall, we'll learn choosing the right bricks to use. We can keep building until we reach the top and nothing can ever maim us again."

Yoongi sighs deeply, burying his hand into the back of your head. He brings you into his embrace and you welcome it with open arms.

However, the turmoil within you doesn't cease. Because this isn't what Yoongi deserved. As much as you were touched by his loving words, you still couldn't grasp around them.

You pull away completely from his touch, forcing yourself to be valorous.

This is your own battle.

And you will continue to fight it even if Yoongi isn't by your side.

Because it's what you feel that is right.

When your gazes collide, he immediately understands the look in your eyes. Although it's breaking his heart, he understands you and he will respect your decision.

But he makes a promise to you that sunrise, below the rays that are about to ascend.

"I will wait for you."

︶︶︶⠀୨♡୧⠀︶︶︶

You remember everything from that day as clear as the moment it ended. His shattered expression, his glossy irises shedding his own tears. His broken smile as he waved you goodbye.

You couldn't stay with him any longer because if you did, even for a mere second, you will crumble and fall apart, and surrender under him.

But you didn't want that. You didn't want Yoongi having to deal with your broken state.

You want to make things right. You want to be deserving of his love. You want to be the right person for him.

Even if it means letting yourself fall again beneath the chasm.

But now, you have a newfound strength. And you will wield it the right way this time. You will brave against every storm that strikes you.

You will brave against yourself — your own voice that you hear in your nightmares every time the moon made its apparition.

Because now, you have someone by your side, even it wasn't physically.

Before you dream, it's his smile that appears in your mind, the very last thing you see before you fall into slumber.

After you dream, it's his laughter that you hear first thing in the morning before you open your eyes.

While you are dreaming, it's him that you see in the depths of your shadows, the light at the end of the tunnel.

︶︶︶⠀୨♡୧⠀︶︶︶

The emerald leaves turn into sepia, dry ones descending and blanketing the asphalt. Vibrant colors morph into bold, homely and strong ones, gold and red that carpet the grass. Mist and fog waft the air, the once warm weather shifting to a frosty one.

It is the season of change. Autumn.

You've never enjoyed the breeze of the certain season until now. Puffing out small ice breaths, you smile as the leaves crunch smoothly and melodically into your ears. Your long coat barely does its job of warming you. Nonetheless, you enjoy the sudden shift of temperature.

It's a very significant day for you. It's the day where your life drastically changed — the same day from three years ago. The day you opened a new chapter in your life.

Upon your arrival, the people around you greet you with warm smiles and small bows. You reciprocate their gestures, then begin to survey your surroundings. Various shades of orange and red embellish the interior of the building, with several origamis of leaves and birds beautifying the ceilings.

Intricate strings of small pumpkin ornaments hang by the windows, along with the apricot fairy lights twinkling and lighting up the place with hues of tangerines.

"Good morning, ma'am."

The voice of your employee pulls you out of your daze. You give her a smile of gratitude. "You guys have done well as usual. The decorations are fitting and amazing."

"Thank you, ma'am!" She gratefully bows to you.

"And happy anniversary," you greet her.

She reciprocates your greeting then leaves you to your own thoughts. It's the opening anniversary of your self-made restaurant, the one thing you've been focusing on for the past three years. It had become your own safe haven because of the smiles of your customers that they give you before they step foot out of the restaurant. It's soothing in your nerves because you feel fulfilled whenever you send them away happily.

The air around you feels refreshing, and you inhale the aroma of pumpkin spices and apple pies.

It's a significant day for you not only for this reason but something else.

An art gallery had recently opened a few months ago, but you weren't able to check it out because of how busy you had been with your business. For some unfathomable reason, every time you passed by the gallery, a peculiar invisible string keeps on pulling you.

And today, you're going to find out what is that enigmatic essence luring you. You bid your staff a farewell before stepping out into the autumn air once again.

Your feet leads you into the familiar but new establishment. Standing before the entrance, you admire the bold calligraphed letters in the gradient of roses and marigolds, green vines wrapping around each letter that spelled the art gallery's name.

Gravitating towards it, you finally step foot inside the building. Your eyes wander every art piece, from portraits to landscapes, even architectural pieces before your eyes catch a glimpse of a certain painting.

Delicate strokes of blue and white smear the sky, mixtures of pigments that are beyond your comprehension creating the illusion of clear waters. And most importantly, the figure in the middle. She looks all too familiar to you. She had a cosmic smile on her face, lips curved upward, the intricate details of her cupid bow prominent. As if the artist had specifically gave much more attention to her facial features more than the landscape itself.

And unlike every other masterpiece with women adorned in extravagant dresses, the girl in the painting, instead, donned a cream-colored sweatshirt, and black shorts ending right above her knees.

Of course, you know this girl all too well.

Because it's you.

"She's beautiful, isn't she?"

The strum of familiar baritone strings fills your ears. You don't need to look to know who it is. Because his voice had been inscribed into your memory. He still sounds the same since the last time you've heard him. But more homely, warmer, deeper, more melodic.

"She is," you affirm.

"But she'll be more stunning today."

Your lips twitches into a smile. "Have you seen the model yet?"

"No," he answers. "She hasn't let me yet."

Your eyes slowly leave the painting before you, shifting to your left in an agonizingly slow manner. You take your time until you finally see his profile.

Yoongi was still the same. The same since the day you left him.

His hair was still the strong shade of red-orange, styled handsomely so that none of the fringes conceal his face. His feline eyes seem more fuller than before, more contented, happier. Amongst the galaxies that your eyes can make out, you see your own reflection. And you've never felt belonged into his eyes until this moment.

His cheeks are more defined, manly, but he still has the same lips — the lips you've once had a taste of. Looking so soft, plump, and pink. A suit dons his body, enhancing his manly and handsome features.

He is the epitome of beauty.

You finally reach out a hand to him. His gaze lingers for a beat longer before he interlaces his hand with yours. You both immediately relish each other's warmth, reveling on the moment that you two had finally found both of your ways back home.

You to him.

And him to you.

With the most genuine smile that traces your lips, you say,

"Let's run away."

[piebingo]

In which Simon and Wille go camping together, except they don’t know a thing about camping and Wille is madly in love with his best friend.

7 years ago

“Like that?” Wille asked, eyebrows scrunched in concentration.

Linda hummed, looking over his shoulder. “Go slowly at first and when you feel comfortable enough with the movement, you can pick up the speed little by little.”

“Okay,” Wille muttered as he carefully lowered the knife down. He had to push a little to cut the carrot and it ended up being a crooked slice, but he managed to cut the carrot like Linda had shown him to do.

“That’s it, just like that,” Linda said from being him as Wille carefully cut slice after slice of the first carrot.

Continue chapter 6

Start from the beginning

[angelxd-3303]

Are you still working on summertime??

Yes, it's still in the works! I've just been busy lately, but I'm hoping to have more time now that I'm moved into my new place. Here's the next chapter, sorry for the wait!

[little-annie]

Another WIP Weekend is ahead of us!

Have I worked on different WIPs every weekend 😝 yes, yes I have. Am I going to start working on the same ones from now on? TBD

🏔 Eddie Bang- I can't reveal anything about this WIP until art claims have been completed, but still, I need to desperately work on it. MAKE ME WORK ON IT.

💼 Businessman Steve- This guy has been sitting in my drafts for too long. It's a 5 & 1 of times concierge Eddie has encountered Steve Harrington, the son of business mogul Richard Harrington. At first Eddie isn't sure of the young businessman who seems to have a sex and drug problem, but as he gets to know Steve through these few encounters, Eddie comes to find Steve is living a life he truly despises. Through these few encounters they become friends and eventually by the end fall in love.

🤘🏻 Role Reversal Steddie AU- @tinytalkingtina and I have been expanding our world of Trackstar!Eddie and Metalhead!Steve and can't wait to share with you all that we've created.

⛺️ Steddie Set Up- Steve and Eddie meet on a camping trip organised by the kids. Clueless to the fact that they've been set up they become fast friends and soon a couple.

You know the drill. In an ask send me the emojis of the fic(s) you'd like me to work on and post updates.

What exists of 💼 as of now, below the cut.

There's a commotion at the double doors of the hotel lobby, multiple men spilling in all at once. Tailored suits, expensive watches, and the numbers of their mistresses hardly hidden in their phones.

Every one of them looks like an asshole.

From where Eddie sits behind the reception desk doodling in his notebook, he inwardly sighs before standing and tugging at his stiff uniform to at least appear professional. Black slacks and a white button down that he's had to treat for Ketchup stains more times then he cares to count. It's the least personalised thing he owns and with the added fact of not being allowed to wear jewellery or have his hair down, he just feels like another cog in the machine.

God he hates his job.

"Good morning, Sir," Eddie says with feigned composure as one of the suit and tied assholes of this month's conference approaches the front desk. The guys sporting a full head of salt and peppered hair, thick and perfectly coiffed on the top of his head. Eyes haunting, smile sinister in a way that's much too menacing for Eddie's taste. Shark like in the way it makes Eddie feel pinned down like a hopeless piece of prey.

"Harrington, Richard Harrington," the man says with a thundering voice instead of a greeting, slapping his credit card and ID onto the marble countertop between them and turning his back to say something snappy to the man at his rear.

Harrington, Eddie thinks with distaste, remembering the name from his first day on shift. Richard, the pompous prick, was yelling at the poor woman training Eddie because she forgot to make sure his room came stocked with higher end liquor than their Luxury Suites usually did. Really, it was something so small it could have been handled with just a phone call down to the front desk. It's a rather vivid memory and Eddie's sure that at the time if that would have been suggested the man would've dropped dead of a heart attack.

Though really, would that have been so awful?

He's seen the man far too many times since. Monthly business conferences and meetings at the hotel keep the entirety of Harrington and Associates forever coming through the lobby doors.

Much to Eddie's dismay.

He sighs at the thought of the many more encounters to come, watching as the vein bulges from the side of Richard's head and he turns a rather grotesque shade of red. Eddie feels bad for the man Richard's snapping at. It's obvious not much has changed other than the jerk sporting a few more wrinkles and grey hairs.

With a hardly contained eye roll, Eddie types 'Harrington' into the system, the keyboard clicking under his fingertips before two separate bookings pop up on the screen. One for Richard and another for a Stephen.

Eddie hums in thought, as familiar as this gaggle of assholes are, he doesn't remember a Stephen from the past bookings.

Must be new. And related. Poor bastard, Eddie thinks absent-mindedly. He can't imagine working for this guy, let alone being his son, though, maybe this Stephen's no different.

He grimaces at the thought and hopes he doesn't have to meet the man if he is.

Quietly, as not to disrupt the hissing match happening in front of him, Eddie finishes checking Mr. Dick Harrington into the hotel. Sliding the room key, credit card and ID in the man's direction, Eddie watches as Richard does nothing but continue to berate the man before him. Something about scheduling or mergers or what the fuck ever that Eddie really doesn't have the time or energy to give even a single shit about.

From the edge of the crowd of assholes a young man steps in to grab the cards and quite frankly Eddie couldn't give two shits if this guy's helping or stealing from the rich bastard. Though by the near matching formal attire and the way no one bats an eye, he supposes he at least works for the guy.

Or…

“Steve Harrington,” the young, startlingly beautiful man says as he picks up his apparent father's ID and replaces it with his own on the marble countertop.

There's a cute twist to his lip when he talks and Eddie already hates himself for staring, but how can he not?

This is Richard's son?

No

No

Mr. Tall Tan and Beautiful cannot have come from that.

But the matching square of their jaws, tilt to their cheeks and hazel of their eyes begs to differ.

Fucking hell.

He's probably just as much of a prick.

The pretty ones always are.

The straight ones too.

Chewing on the inside of his cheek, willing his apparent blush to go down Eddie nods once and selects the only obvious choice of name in the booking system.

Stephen Harrington.

He can feel the man's eyes boring into him as he's typing, searing almost in their stare, so much so Eddie wonders if he has something on his face or if the guy just has zero social skills.

Chancing a glance up his suspicions are proven right and Steve doesn't so much as move, his eyes not meeting Eddie's but staring a little lower.

Eddie swallows, the judgement feeling heavy as he pulls the collar of his shirt higher, making sure there's no evidence of ink or any other bad decisions peeking out from the white buttoned around his neck.

It wouldn't be the first time some business asshole had something to say about his tattoos or the occasional hickey concealer failed to hide.

“605,” Eddie says almost mechanically after placing Steve's room key between them, his voice finally drawing the man's eye away from his throat.

Steve coughs into his fist, nods and grabs his and his fathers remaining cards and room keys but he doesn't leave. Navy blue suit and eyes Eddie thinks will take him weeks to forget, Steve remains standing before him, chewing on his bottom lip until he… he does a quick once over of Eddie. Top to bottom. Head to tail. Hazel eyes scanning, judging, making Eddie's skin feel like it's on fire for completely other reasons.

Then without a second's notice he looks from side to side rather hastily and leans into Eddie's space across the marble countertop, the sound of his elbow meeting the surface between them, a dull thud.

He smells like the pine of a forest floor and the musk of a man who's been nothing but busy and exhausted for weeks.

But God it's doing something to Eddie and he hates it.

Steve works his jaw in an odd way, rubbing at the muscle before he asks in a hushed tone, “There uh, there any clubs around here, for the, you know,” he lifts his hand to drop his wrist limply, fluttering his lashes as he continues, “variety?”

He's asking Eddie if there's any gay clubs around.

He's asking Eddie if there's any gay clubs around?

What the fuck?

Eddie bristles, already feeling his brows pull into a glare. He's making fun of him. These businessmen always do.

It's not like he's wearing a pride flag anywhere or skipping through the fucking halls, but somehow these pricks always seem to pick up on his preferences.

It's been years and only once has anyone been genuine in their inquiry.

So genuine in fact that Eddie found himself with his dick in the guy's mouth not more than thirty minutes later when he went out for his smoke break.

But a Harrington? Richard's son?

He thinks Hell will sooner freeze over.

Really if anything Eddie wants to tell the guy to fuck off, but he can't because professionalism.

So he does the next best thing.

If the guy's gonna be a judgy dick, well…

In a matter of seconds Eddie prints off a map of the city that has each and every gay bar starred and hands it to Steve with a very fake and falsely enthusiastic, “Enjoy you stay in the city Mr. Harrington, I hope you find what you're looking for.”

And then before he even has a chance to catch the guy's reaction, he's waving towards the crowd, calling out “next please” and moving to the other computer to check in the next asshole.