#and like snow in the changing seasons will their loved ones leave to soon

[hivemindclown]

do i KNOW snow sugar likely only refers to cotton cookie as 'grandma' because in some cultures they refer to the elders as 'grandma/grandpa' even if they arent related? yes am i still going to head-canon snow sugar as cotton's grandkid and snowflake cookie as their great ancestor in a way of dooming this family line to always lose their dearest friends to the same fate? yes. yes i am. the winter event cookies are my favorites and i will doom them all with a never ending cycle.

make them suffer.

[spatialwave]

The Most Wonderful Time of the Year

pairing: jayvik x gender neutral!reader word count: 1.9k words tags: mdni! modern au, fluff, poly relationship, reader is spoiled. a/n: happy holidays and merry christmas! so grateful for you all <3

You’d never been one to celebrate holidays, often staying home by yourself and enjoying the day off from the world. Escaping into your mind for a few days until you’d ultimately have to return to your job and regular life—but that changed when you met Jayce and Viktor. Two men who somehow swept you off your feet after swearing that you’d be on your own for a long time, at least enough to forget about the pain that came with love and heartbreak.

They changed the trajectory of your life, bringing meaning and hope back into it. Gone were the days of riding alone on the subway, earbuds blasting music on your transport home—anything to find an escape. Now, you had Jayce rambling away to you on the ride home about his newest creations at work or Viktor holding you against his side as you listened to the hustle and bustle around you, no longer wanting to shy away from it.

It was surprising how little time you adjusted to this new life; within a few months, you’d weaselled your way into their home. Tens of boxes filled their apartment until your belongings blended in, and your body tucked neatly between them in their bed so well that it felt like you’d been there for years.

You hadn’t been one to believe in fate, but they managed to change your opinion.

This was the first time in years that the holiday season felt alive—excited to cuddle on the sofa at night to watch christmas movies as the fireplace roared, your countertop full of too many sweets that you and Jayce baked, and begging your boyfriends to help you build a snowman in the park on your way home. The idea of Christmas day filled your stomach with butterflies; so many years had flown by where the only gifts you purchased were a few treats for yourself and for your closest friends.

Now, you’d filled a good portion of the closet with gifts until you finally found time to wrap them, piling them underneath the tree that they decorated while bickering about colours and placements. 

Your apartment was full of overpriced decorations you purchased, and your wallet was struggling, but it was worth it to know that Christmas morning would roll around and be perfect. You hadn’t wished for perfect in a long time.

You were surprised that you’d fallen asleep so quickly on Christmas Eve, nestled between Jayce and Viktor as they clung to you. You’d expected to toss and turn for hours, unable to rid yourself of your excitement, but soon it was morning, and you were stretched out, the sheets tangled around your limbs.

A quiet groan rumbled from your chest as you stretched your arms above your head, fingers brushing against the wooden headboard, and only realizing then that your boyfriends weren’t there with you. Your eyes fluttered open, slowly sitting up just as the scent of breakfast filled your nose—eggs, turkey bacon and pancakes, Jayce’s specialty. You flickered your gaze toward the frosted window, snow gently falling from the sky and leaving everything a soft blue hue that made you want to curl back up and sleep the day away.

However, your grumbling stomach said otherwise. You slipped out of bed slowly, yawning and digging the heels of your palms against your eyes as your bare feet padded across the floor. Drowsiness had rendered you forgetful, it seemed, because even the growing sound of the TV playing a Christmas movie hadn’t reminded you of what day it was. Too groggy and hungry to worry about anything else.

It wasn’t until you stepped into the living room, eyes landing on the Christmas tree, that you remembered. You instantly brightened, a beaming smile pulling across your lips.

“Merry Christmas!” You exclaimed, hurrying towards the sofa so you could practically throw yourself atop Viktor, who’d been so entranced watching Love Actually that he hadn’t noticed you enter the room.

“Ah,” he gasped as his arms wrapped around you, a small smile playing along his lips as he tilted his head down, looking at you while you peered up at him from your spot on his chest, “Merry Christmas, love,” he hummed, enjoying the chaste kiss you placed on his lips.

“Finally awake?” Jayce stepped out from the kitchen, a toothy smile spreading across his lips as he carried three plates of food that looked like they were going to fall at any moment. “Just at the right time. I thought I was going to have to wake you up.”

“Be careful!” You chuckled, moving to sit on the sofa at Viktor’s legs as your lover made it to the coffee table and carefully set down the food with your help. He excused himself for a quick moment, returning with three mugs of freshly brewed coffee.

Viktor yawned from beside you, now upright, as he took the coffee and indulged in a long drink—having never been much of a morning person. You leaned against his side, reaching out and pulling your plate to your lap so you could dig in.

Jayce settled himself on the floor opposite you and Viktor, looking between you both with a loving smile and bright eyes full of golds and greens. He was so in love. Then, he flickered his gaze to the Christmas tree, humming as he sipped his coffee.

You followed his eyes to the tree, excitement swirling inside as you swallowed down your food and discarded the plate back to the coffee table, “Holy shit,” you spoke, a hand flying to Viktor’s thigh, “Did you put more gifts under the tree?”

Jayce shrugged, trying to act coy with a big smirk, “I don’t know, did I?”

Viktor chuckled behind his coffee, holding the warm mug in his hands as he gestured for you to go over to the tree. “Mhm, he’s spoiling you rotten,” he sighed affectionately.

Jayce moved over to sit next to you as you nestled onto the hardwood, eyes scanning the gifts—some wrapped, some in bags. There were too many to count on both hands. You hadn’t felt this way since you were a child, eyes wide and glowing as you reached in and pushed the gifts aside until the ones you wrapped were visible.

You were excited, but your desire to see them open their gifts far outweighed your own need to see what they both spoiled you with—Viktor was just as guilty.

“I… also went a little overboard,” you said sheepishly, pulling out precisely eight gifts—four for each.

Jayce shifted away from you to make room for the gifts, his tanned cheeks burning red from excitement that mirrored your own. Meanwhile, Viktor watched you both with small smiles as he set your gifts next to him on the sofa and began to open them up with gentle tears at the wrapping. Jayce wasn’t so gentle, easily ripping away the wrapping paper and tossing it behind him to be picked up later.

You had spun around, watching them as they opened the small trinkets and items that reminded you of them—a beautiful music box for Viktor that played a familiar song from his home country and, for Jayce, a new leatherbound journal and fountain pen for everything from blueprints to midnight ideas. 

You had nestled between Viktor’s legs, your back pressed against the sofa, and he leaned forward to kiss your head gently. “You’re too kind, love. These are incredible, " he murmured into your hair.

Jayce was now lying in front of you, on his back with his head in your lap, and diving into a book you’d purchased for him. Not a pleasurable read in your eyes, but he was keen on reading educational books, so you were sure to get him one that was ‘apparently’ a key book for inventors and engineers alike. That’s what the salesperson said, at least.

“You’re welcome,” you smiled, tilting your head back to look up at Viktor.

“Jayce,” he said, frowning slightly and giving him a slight shove with his foot, “you can read later. Grab the other gifts. Please.”

“Right, sorry—,” Jayce apologized, placing his book aside and reaching over to the tree to begin passing you the gifts that were piled much too high for your comfort, “Come on, don’t be shy now. Open them up.” He urged you, noting the apprehensive look in your eyes as you stared at the mountain of presents for you.

You continued to stare, and maybe you were just too emotional of a person, but tears began to well up in your eyes. Jayce noticed this immediately, reaching forward and wiping a stray tear that had fallen down your cheek. “Hey, hey,” he murmured, and Viktor looked around at you from his spot on the couch, eyes widening at your reaction.

“Are you overwhelmed?” Viktor asked in a hushed voice, both hands moving to your shoulders and giving your muscles a relaxed massage, “It’s okay. You don’t need to cry.”

“God,” you sniffled, a laugh bubbling up through the tears, “I’m sorry, I’m okay. I promise, just—” you wiped at your eyes, looking at Jayce, “I’m just happy. The happiest I’ve been in a really long time.”

A smile spread on Jayce’s lips, and he grabbed at one of the presents. It was smaller and rectangular, “Open this one.”

You stared at him for a moment, wiping the last of your tears away with the back of your hand.

“Trust me,” he chuckled, urging it into your hands.

Your eyes settled on it, and you began to tear at the opening of the wrapping paper. You tugged it apart, and when you saw the present, you couldn’t help but scoff and let out a laugh that Viktor joined in, “You jerk!” You whined, but the smile on your lips proved that you were far from annoyed.

A box of unopened tissues was in your hands, with a note taped to it: ‘Figured you’d need this. -J’

Christmas Day was everything you’d dreamed it to be. After years and years of spending the holiday alone with nothing but takeout and movies, you finally experienced the joy that came with the holiday that you last experienced as a child.

You were rightly spoiled with gifts, surprised at the thoughtfulness of each one, including three rings from Viktor—simple gold bands for each that were meant to show your shared commitment to each other, and that box of tissues was almost used up right after. You ate good food, which Jayce only slightly burned, and filled your stomach with enough sweets you swore you wouldn’t be able to eat for an entire week. A marathon of Christmas movies played on the screen as the three of you spent hours chatting and checking out your new gifts.

Later that night, you were lying against Jayce’s chest as he relaxed back on the couch, snoring softly as the glow of the fireplace illuminated you. Your legs tangled with Viktor’s, who had just fallen asleep, his novel open on his chest and glasses barely hanging onto his nose.

Your eyes focused on the window in your view—the moon was high in the sky and clear after snowing all day. Your hand absently played with the metal band that fits perfectly over your ring finger, turning and twisting it as the day replayed in your head and the possibilities of the new year swelled your heart.

This is what it felt like to be loved—unconditionally and irrevocably.

[kettlefire]

The boy under the ice

He simply appear one winter day in Gotham. The water had already frozen over. Citizens alike surround the cold pond for a day of Winter festivities.

The Wayne family making a yearly appearance. Smiles and greets as hot cocoa and coffee was passed around to children and parents alike.

Some people skating across the frozen pond, while others enjoyed the snow. Building snowmen, and having intense rounds of snowball fighting.

Even in the darkness and dangerous that surrounded Gotham, everyone understood what today was. To put aside all problems and differences. To simply enjoy the seasonal change, spending time with your loved ones.

It was perfect. Until a piercing scream broke through the laughter and joy.

Cries of surprise and fear immediately followed. The people on the pond had quickly moved away in fear and disgust.

Bruce Wayne made no hesitation to move forward. Fear thrumming at the idea that someone had fallen through the ice. Maybe it hadn't been solid enough for skating and a poor soul got pulled in.

Except the ice was perfect. The only marks from the slight scratches of the blades against it. Not a single crack or hole could be seen.

It didn't take long before Dick was grabbing Bruce's attention. Waving the man over with a grim expression. The once joyous moment quickly turned dark and grim.

There was a boy, barely older than Damien trapped beneath the ice. Even with closed eyes, the kid looked like he could easily be mistaken as a Wayne. Any urgency to help was quickly faded by the sight.

The boy's skin held a blue tint, noticeable even through the thick layer of ice and the water below. His lips a sickly purple, and not a movement in his body.

It was clear the boy had been long since dead. Floating in the ice cold water beneath the ice. Having just floated up to the ice by pure accident.

With a sombre tone, Bruce ordered someone to call the police. They would need the fire department to even fathom pulling the poor boy out.

Bruce, along with Dick stayed kneeled on the cold ice. Eyes trained on the poor boy. Wondering if this was a blessing or a curse.

A poor family out there somewhere finally knowing what happened to their son this Christmas winter. Only for the horrible news of loss to hit them, even then the mystery was gone.

The sound of sirens broke through the thick tense silence. Help would be there soon, but the day had been tainted already.

It took everything in Bruce not to shout when eyelids sudden snapped open.

Fear and pain-filled bright blue eyes stared up at him through the ice. Pruned and blue hands suddenly pressed against the ice. Purple lips moving in frantic and panic words.

Words that couldn't penetrate the ice.

Bruce moved quickly, standing and yelling for help. Calling the civilians to bring anything they could. A blade from the snow cone cart was brought over.

The thick silence and stillness breaking instantly as everyone joined together in a rushed attempt to help.

Bubbles raised to the surface, popping against the ice as the boy beneath it continued to struggle. Words of comfort spilling from Bruce, even though he knew the boy likely couldn't hear him.

Many people were ushered off the ice, not wanting to risk a massive break from the weight. The ice frantically yet slowly breaking and giving under the attempts. Shavings and cracks signaling progress.

Bruce's eyes trailed away from the ice he had been trying to break for only a split second. He could hear the sounds of the fire department pulling into the area.

Bruce's eyes met the teen's terrified one. A chill ran down his spine as he saw the fight leave the boy, a feeling of despair and loss filling Bruce.

He couldn't let it end like this.

Yet, the choice was ripped from him. The water below the ice seemed to bubble for a split second before he was gone.

The boy under the ice was just gone.

He hadn't sunk down to the bottom of the pond. He hadn't floated to another section. One second he was there, and the next he was gone.

It didn't stop the fire department from breaking into the ice. Into pulling all efforts to try and find the boy. The boy that almost everyone in attendance had seen in clear detail.

There wasn't a body. No sign of the young teen's existence, save for the now shattered and broken ice. It seemed to be nothing, a strange blimp in a Gotham day.

Everyone was meant to move on without a second thought.

Except Bruce couldn't. He couldn't get the sight of terrified eyes meeting his. He knew there was too the story. That boy needed help.

He wasn't simply trapped under the ice. The boy wasn't simply dead. He was suffering. And Bruce would be damned if he just brushed it off like everyone else.

It's a good thing Bruce didn't. A late night in the cave, listening to the police scanners. Trying to push away the lingering sadness and pain he felt from the boy.

That's when he heard it. The call of a young boy being found trapped under the ice. In a different pond.

That was all the confirmation Bruce needed. He sent out an order to every vigilante apart of his family. To keep an eye out for the elusive boy.

Bruce was going to crack this mystery. He was going to help this kid, no matter what it took.

[justalittlelilac]

Two days.

You had two days to tell Qiu Lin you were in love with them.

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3 Word Count: 7,750 CW: explicit language, references to drug and underage alcohol use, dissociation, avoidant attachment behavior, depression, general angst, and mental health issues related to self esteem (seriously guys, if you're looking for a 100% feel good OL story, this prolly ain't it...at least this chapter lollll)

Recommended listening: deep by Devon Again, and this playlist I made. Use this link if you wanna add your own songs. I thought it could be fun.

The drive to Grayson's Family Tree Farm felt longer than it did in past years, the asphalt stretching in front of your car like a long, worn path. Outside the car, the world was a blur of gray and muted browns sprinkled with the spindly skeletal limbs of bare trees. A few tenacious leaves clung stubbornly to branches as if it was autumn's last breath before the land would be blanketed in a thick sheet of snow.

It was as if the world was hesitating, caught briefly between two seasons, just as we cling to fleeting moments already passing, watching them fade like breath in the biting air. Autumn grasping to what remains while winter sweeps in, altering what we know. Quietly, like falling snow, ending all that was.

Tamarack hummed contentedly from the backseat, following along with "White Christmas" playing through the car's speakers. She had commandeered the aux cord as soon as she had buckled her seat belt, her ruby eyes already sparkling. Who were you to deny her that simple pleasure?

Her enthusiasm for the holiday tradition was as infectious as ever - or at least, it should have been. You remembered when her joy used to spark something similar in you, but now it felt like watching a favorite movie with the sound turned down, all the meaning somehow muffled and distant.

Beside you, Qiu sat in the passenger seat, their fingers drumming lightly against their thigh in time with the music. However, there was something off in their rhythm, slight hesitations in the drumming of their fingers that matched the occasional furrow in their brow. Their gaze was fixed on the passing scenery, eyes distant and reflective as if lost in a world only they could navigate.

You observed them from the corner of your eyes, noticing the far-off look about them. It wasn't uncommon for Qiu to seem so scatterbrained, even now, as an adult. Still, it felt out of place for them, and you made a mental note to inquire about the change later on.

The car smelled pleasantly of Tamarack's signature perfume—a blend of vanilla and cinnamon that felt like coming home—and something more subtle and earthy that continued to cling to your coat.

Yesterday evening, the three of you had trekked through the woods behind the Lin's house, your breath misting in the chilly air as you and Qiu passed a shared blunt back and forth. The ritual was an old one, a relic from teenage years when the world felt too big and too small all at once.

Tamarack hadn't participated, but she still tagged along, happy for the company. She'd always said the woods were enough on their own to relax—a sentiment you could appreciate but never quite feel. For you, the haze took the edge off, softening the sharp corners of your thoughts that threatened to cut too deep.

But even that familiar comfort, a ritual years old, felt distant, like the smoke tendrils floating to the dark sky. The buzz had faded too quickly, leaving behind a restless tension coiled beneath your skin and continued to pull taut. You could still picture Qiu's heavy-lidded eyes illuminated by the moonlight, their laughter echoing in the dark, cutting the silence of the sleeping forest around you.

It used to be enough—those stolen moments of teenage rebellion, when it felt like you and Qiu were against the world, to feel that world narrow down to just the two of you. Now, it was a reminder of how temporary everything felt—moments like smoke pluming into the sky.

Even this morning, the familiar ritual hadn't provided its usual escape. Instead of dulling your senses, it had somehow made you more aware of every subtle shift in Qiu's behavior — the way their laughter seemed to catch in their throat, how their eyes would drift away when talking about school, the slight tension in their shoulders when Tamarack mentioned winter break plans.

You felt like an exposed nerve, sensitive to every word from your mouth or theirs. Nervous doubt coated your tongue and brain in a viscous goo until the high began to thankfully ebb.

"You're not gonna get lost again, right, Tamarack?" Qiu's teasing voice cut through your spiraling thoughts, though something in their tone felt forced like they were playing a part they'd rehearsed too many times. From the corner of your eye, you saw the faint smirk tugging at their lips. In the review mirror, you witnessed Tamarack's theatrical eye roll.

"Are you going to bring that up every year?" she groaned. "Plus, I was not lost. I just went off-path to find the best tree. Something you couldn't relate to because the trees you always pick are sad," she harrumphed while crossing her arms.

"They are not sad!" Qiu spun in their seat to glare daggers at Tamarack. Your mutual friend had the best track record of taunting and challenging Qiu, even unintentionally. If it was an Olympic sport, Tamarack Baumann would win gold every time. "They're just… Smaller than yours, that's all!" Qiu protested.

"You mean scrawny, " Tamarack shot back with a self-assured smirk. You huffed a small laugh, keeping your eyes on the road.

Qiu whipped around, and you could practically feel the fire in their faux glare. "I see you snickering!" You couldn't stop the laughter that abrupted from you. One of your hands shot up from the steering wheel in defense.

"Sorry, sorry!" You defended, still laughing. Qiu's eyebrows furrowed.

"You don't think the trees I pick are scrawny, do you?" They asked pleadingly.

"No! They're uh…practical," you tried. The back of the car erupted into a boisterous roar of laughter. With a pout, Qiu crossed their arms and turned their attention back to the window.

"Whatever. I like my trees; they have character," they muttered, but they couldn't hide their smile and pleasantly closed eyes as they rested their head on the glass.

Leave it to Tamarack to turn the tables on Qiu's teasing. The car settled back into silence, save for Tamarack's holiday playlist, and you allowed yourself the smallest of smiles, letting the jolly music fill your ears. Letting the moment of nostalgia somehow ground you in the present.

You knew you were approaching Grayson's tree farm when the black asphalt running beneath your wheels transitioned to dirt and gravel. The familiar sun-bleached sign for the farm came into view, welcoming you into the gravel parking lot.

You pulled in, parking next to the Lin's vehicle and others. The area was full of cars that had carried other families here to complete their own tree-cutting tradition.

Killing the engine, the three of you shuffled out of the car, and you were immediately hit with the strong scents of sap, pine, and wood smoke. Around you was a sea of pine, spruce, and evergreen trees ranging from Charlie Brown specials to towering giants that seemed to scrape the heavy grey sky. They swayed in a slight breeze that carried a sharp bite, the smell of frost, and the promise of possible snow.

You were glad you'd layered up —the morning's weather report had warned of temperatures dropping below freezing, nature's way of announcing winter's impending arrival. Like everything else lately, whether you were ready or not, autumn was slipping away. Rocks crunched under your shoes as you followed Qiu and Tamarack, a route practically worn into the dirt to the small wooden shack that served as the farm's entrance.

It was a quaint old structure with a concession window bordered by twinkle lights and wreaths hanging from the eaves, adding to the rustic charm. Wood smoke plumed from the small cylindrical chimney where a wood-burning stove was likely in use.

There, you would retrieve your tools for the tree, and when you returned with your bounty, you'd share hot chocolate and sit by the campfire nearby. It was, as traditions go, the same every single year.

Your mom, Granny, and the Lins waited bundled in coats and scarves by the entrance. They waved you over with cheery smiles.

It was a rhythm that had been set in stone. A little dull and repetitive, sure, but reliable and comforting in a time when so much had changed. Even when both you and Qiu couldn't have been bothered to do something "so dumb" in your angsty youth, you still partook in it.

Now, when you felt like your world had been turned upside down in a short few weeks, seeing everything in place made you feel…at home.

"Finally, you three showed up. It's about to snow!" Granny's voice carried that familiar mix of chiding and affection as she rubbed her hands together against the cold. From beside you, Tamarack's eyes lit up like the Christmas tree that would be in her living room that night.

"Really? That would be perfect!" She grinned. You found yourself glancing at the heavy clouds above, debating whether that was actually true. It wasn't uncommon for Golden Grove to get snow by now, but the perfect scene it would have created made you doubtful.

"Yes, I suppose, but we should hurry if we want to avoid the brunt of it. I can't stand the cold like I used to," Granny sighed, her joints clearly protesting the chill. The Lins and your mom sighed in agreement, their bones and joints not as impervious to the seasonal change as well You wondered when you would be joining the 'I'm too old for this' club with them.

"We were actually thinking you kids would be okay to go off on your own this year. We trust your judgment," Mom explained with an amused, encouraging smile. The three of you balked at the older adults. In years past, you'd always performed a divide-and-conquer mentality.

"We'll stay here by the fire," Mr. Lin added cheerfully. "That way, we can help with the trees when you get back—and sample the hot chocolate quality, of course." He winked, earning round of laughter. Qiu chuffed slightly with a smirk.

"Sitting with some hot cocoa while we do all the work? Gotcha." Mr. Lin responded with a confirming grin and nod.

"Works for me!" Tamarack exclaimed, ever the optimist. "We'll find the most amazing trees and be back before you know it." Tamarack had already started pulling on your coat, urging you to the shack window to get your things.

"Okay, okay! We're coming," you laughed.

"Just stay within the marked areas," your mom cautioned lightly. "And keep an eye on the weather."

"Yes, ma'am," you replied with a mock salute, earning a smile.

With saws in hand and sleds in tow, you set off into the labyrinth of evergreens. As you stepped into the field of trees, the first snowflakes began to dance down from the sky, almost like falling stars in the daytime. It seemed Granny was right after all.

Although it was quieter in the field, you could hear the sounds of other families searching for their perfect tree. Their distant laughter and excited calls floated through the air like music, and you couldn't help but smile at a small child racing past, their purple boots leaving tiny tracks in the gathering snow. Tamarack excitedly vibrated next to you, shot ahead, and began walking backward to address the two of you.

"Just wait and see. I'm gonna get the best tree, and I'll be the first to do it," she nodded as if she'd already completed the task. Without waiting for a response, she spun around and disappeared down one of the rows, dragging her sled with her.

It was always amusing to see Tamarack like this as an adult. Even though she was careful to not dirty her nice clothes or mess up her hair these days, that spark of a younger Tamarack Bauman refused to be completely snuffed out.

One can never fully get rid of the child inside them.

You and Qiu meandered deeper into the grove, still chuckling over Tamarack. The trees grew together thicker, and the scent of pine was stronger. It brought back memories of all the years before —when things were simpler, when next year felt like a distant concept rather than an approaching reality. A companionable silence fell between you. A quiet that wrapped around you made you feel comfortable if you didn't let your mind wander.

"Hey, if we head to the back, I bet there will be some really good ones," Qiu suggested, their breath visible in the cold air. They were smiling, but something in their voice sounded different—hesitant maybe, or tired. You pushed the observation away, not wanting to crack the pleasant surface of the moment.

"Are we—dare I say—competing with Tamarack?" You asked, raising an eyebrow playfully.

"Maybe not for time, but I think I'll rise to the challenge," Qiu replied with a mischievous glint in their eyes.

"Well then, lead the way," you gestured grandly, a grin tugging at the corners of your mouth. As you walked, the rows became less picked over.

The snow was falling steadier now, dusting Qiu's dark hair with white flecks that caught the weak sunlight. They were quiet, staring at their feet as they walked like they would trip without diligent observation. As if the answer to something important was written on their shoelaces.

"You okay?" You nudged them with your shoulder, spurring them out of their thoughts. Qiu blinked a few times and gave you a sheepish smile.

"Oh, yeah. I'm just thinking about this project due on Monday. I haven't started it yet." Something in the way they said it made you wonder if that was the whole story, but you played along, rolling your eyes.

"You should get on that when we get back," you said, trying to keep your tone lightly teasing despite the subtle reminder of their other life, the one that was pulling them away. Even out here among the trees and memories, their thoughts were there instead of here with you.

Qiu laughed, pulling out their phone. "I will, I will. Look—" their thumbs swiped across the screen. "I'll put it in my calendar and set an alarm right now," they explained.

Over the years, Qiu's loose notes had transitioned to reminders and alarms set in their phone. "See? Happy?" They showed the phone to you. The calendar reminder read, Do your damn schoolwork Qiu!!!

"Ridiculously so," you replied with a genuine smile that made them chuckle.

The moment felt so normal, so them, that it made your chest ache with how much you'd miss these small interactions. But the joy of being here, of participating in this tradition together, was real, too. Both feelings existed simultaneously, like the warm sunlight breaking through the cold winter clouds above.

A traitorous thought that turned your cheeks pink said, It could be like this all the time.

You continued your journey, eventually stopping at the edge of the tree field. Ahead of you was the dark of an actual forest, not suitable for Christmas trees. It was nearly silent there, aside from the breeze rustling the pine branches, causing the now heavier snow to dance around you. It had begun to settle on the trees, a dusting of white against the green.

You approached a promising spruce, testing its branches, but you were disappointed to see that it had shed a good amount of its needles from the jostling.

"Y'know, I forgot how quiet it is here," Qiu said thoughtfully while circling a tree a few feet away. "I kinda miss it," they added. Your heart gave a little jolt at the comment. Qiu missed it here?

"Yeah? That's surprising," you replied, trying to keep your tone neutral as you moved to examine another tree. This one had too many dead branches, nature's small imperfections revealing themselves upon closer inspection.

"How so?" Qiu tilted their head in genuine curiosity. You rolled your eyes, but there was no real bite to it.

"You hate Golden Grove," you stated simply, moving on to the next candidate. "You always said that once you could get out, you're never coming back." The words came out more pointed than you'd intended, hanging in the cold air between you. Qiu frowned, following behind you.

"Well…I mean, yeah, I know, used to say that all the time when we were younger," they objected, absently running their fingers through the needles of a nearby branch.

"It's going to be great, y'know? Finally, get out of this stupid town. You should come to see me for spring break. Get some sun and stuff." They'd said enthusiastically.

The memory of the previous spring hit you suddenly— walking through the park downtown after a movie, the night air warm and full of possibility. It was the first warmer night of the spring season.

The trees had finally burst with their new leaves, and the scent of wet dirt and mulch was constant as you strolled through the empty park. Qiu's acceptance letter to Prism Vista University had come in the mail recently, and it was a common conversation topic.

At the time, you were all smiles, happy to share their excitement, the situation not dawning on you. A distant reality seemed so alternate that it might as well have been science fiction.

"Just this spring, you were talking about how you couldn't wait to leave everything behind," you scoffed the reminder, still examining the tree.

Leave me behind.

"You know…Golden Grove isn't so bad…there's still some good things here," you murmured as you stood, brushing against the lush foliage. You weren't sure what made you say it. The words felt both true and false simultaneously. On one hand, the town was like this tree—imperfect but familiar, rooted in memories.

Qiu laughed, but it wasn't their usual carefree sound. "Okay, you got me there," they admitted.

They were quiet for a moment, seeming to be gathering their thoughts. You knelt to examine the base of a particularly full spruce, brushing snow from its lower branches.

On the other hand, that was the problem. Golden Grove offered nothing except memories and stagnant change that you clung onto like a lifeline. A knot of selfish guilt burrowed in your gut like you were trying to sell them on the too-small pond that they were clearly too big for.

That their hesitation meant something.

The silence that followed felt heavy with unspoken words. You could feel Qiu's eyes on you, knew they could see through any pretense you might try to maintain. They'd always been able to read you like that, even when you couldn't read yourself.

The gentle rustle of the pine needles and the soft crunch of the snow beneath their boots filled the air until you felt the warmth of Qiu standing next to you. You heard the smallest laugh from them, and as you turned from the tree, you were met with an amused smile.

"You uh…got something—"Qiu started, their hand gentle as they reached out and brushed the snow and pine needles from your hair. The casual touch made your skin tingle. Briefly, your eyes met, and something in Qiu's smile looked different from just a few moments before.

"You're right, though," they said, shoving their hand back into their pocket. "There are still some really nice things in Golden Grove."

The way Qiu rocked back on their heels made you pause, something vulnerable in their posture that reminded you of younger days when they'd try to make it seem like they didn't care as much. They crossed the snowy path to investigate another tree, their voice carrying a too-casual tone.

"I mean, duh, you're here," they said, then quickly added, "And Tamarack, mom and dad, friends from school. But that's what makes leaving worthwhile, right? You get to value what you leave behind more." They weren't looking at you as they spoke, their attention seemingly fixed on the tree's branches. "Like, I wouldn't appreciate the quiet here if I wasn't living in the city."

"Right," you replied, turning away to hide whatever expression might be betraying your thoughts, hoping that would end the conversation. Unfortunately, Qiu wasn't finished.

"Just like being here makes me appreciate Prism Vista all over again, makes me excited to go back," they added quickly, then hesitated. "Sure, it can be lonely sometimes, but it's not all bad."

That made you pause, your hand freezing on a branch. It was the first time they'd admitted to any difficulty. You turned to look at them, really look at them, and noticed the slight tension in their shoulders, the way they were still avoiding your gaze. Hyperfocused on their tree.

"Well, you know how it is," they shrugged. "It's easy to be invisible around so many people in a place like that. But, you can reinvent yourself in a way, though." They gave you a small smile, like that would reassure you.

"Lonely?" you echoed. The possibility that Qiu felt lonely turned the knife in your chest deeper because that awful part of you had hope that they felt the same way you did. You hated it. You hated yourself.

Snow continued falling around you, each flake carrying its own silence. The holiday cheer from other families felt distant now, muffled by the weight of the moment.

"Qiu…" you started, your heart hammering against your ribs, "do you ever sometimes wish things were different? Like things had ended up different for us?" The quiet words came out before you could stop them. Now, they hung in the air like precarious icicles. Threatening to fall and cause damage any second.

"What do you mean?" Qiu's question was tentative, their brows furrowing.

You stared at your boots, watching as snowflakes disappeared into the leather. "Just… I don't know, maybe things could've been different." The veiled words felt both too heavy and too light, carrying years of unspoken thoughts.

Qiu was quiet for a long moment, their breath visible in the cold air. "I mean, sure, for some things," they finally said. "But I don't know; it seems like everything happens for a reason. Like, if I'd never gone to PVU, I wouldn't have met Micah or got to see Baxter again. If you had never come to Golden Grove, we wouldn't be friends, and I definitely don't want that to be different," they laughed.

You knew it wasn't exactly rejecting your unsaid proclamation, but it still paused you. Still hurt.

You tried to smile, to match their lightness. "Right, that would have been terrible." But the words tasted sour, bitter like pine needles on your tongue. Qiu's eyes lingered on you a moment longer before their attention was pulled away.

"Hey! What about this one, huh?" Qiu pointed at the tree they had been circling. Thankful for the distraction from the uncomfortable tightness in your chest, you followed their gaze.

"That could work. It's not too scrawny," you teased, managing a genuine smile when Qiu rolled their eyes. The familiar banter felt like stepping onto solid ground after walking on ice. You considered the tree you'd been absent-mindedly investigating.

You patted its branches affectionately. "I think I'm going with this one." The tree was full but manageable, perfect for your mom's collection of mismatched ornaments that you both had picked out from second-hand shops and discount stores over the years.

"Nice!" Qiu's enthusiasm brightened their face, making your heart skip. They unlooped the sled strap and dropped the saw at the base of their tree. "Let's cut 'em down!" Qiu's enthusiasm was contagious, and you found yourself laughing along with them. The two of you got into position, kneeling on the ground and readying the saw.

The first few minutes were easy. The saw glided smoothly through the wood. You worked in comfortable silence, falling into the rhythm you'd developed over years of sharing this tradition. The teeth of your saw bit and caught, making it difficult to go halfway through.

"There you guys are! I thought I was going to have to leave you," Tamarack said brightly. You could hear the crunch of pine needs and snow under her boots as her sled came to a stop not too far behind her.

"You left us in the first place!" Qiu's voice was muffled under their tree branches, but their laughter was clear.

"True. I didn't think you'd go so far, though. Need any help?" Tamarack offered, already moving to assist without waiting for an answer. Her presence filled the space with warmth like she always did.

When both trees finally lay on the ground, you all stood back to admire your work. The success of the hunt filled you with that particular satisfaction that came from completing something together, even as part of you wondered how many more times you'd get to share this kind of moment.

You and Tamarack worked together; the rhythmic push and pull of the saw synced up with your breaths. From behind, you heard Qiu's tree come free, and they released a sigh of relief.

The saw cut through more smoothly now with Tamarack's help, bringing you closer and closer to your prize. The sharp, sweet smell of sap filled your nostrils, and your muscles burned pleasantly, two very welcome distractions from the thoughts swirling in your brain.

"Too bad you were last in the race," Tamarack nudged you playfully, "but we got there eventually." Her smile was teasing, and you scoffed, gathering up the rope of your sled.

You and Qiu secured your trees to the sleds, the ropes familiar in your hands from years of practice. The gathering snow made the paths slicker, but your trio moved back toward the lot with practiced ease. The sound of your trees gliding over the fresh powder mixed with Tamarack and Qiu's chatter about evening plans.

"So, I want to start with the special ornaments first this year," Tamarack was saying, already planning the tree decorating party at her house. "And I found this new cookie recipe I want to try—they're supposed to look like little snow globes!"

Another part of the Tamarack Holiday Special. The three of you would decorate the evergreen with Granny's antique heirloom baubles, eat more sweets than you could handle, watch corny Hallmark holiday movies, and have a sleepover.

Despite everything, you were looking forward to it and allowed yourself a genuine smile, thinking about the event ahead. As you neared the entrance, Qiu pulled out their phone, a small smile tugging at their lips as they read the screen.

"Who's that?" you asked curiously.

"Just Micah," Qiu answered, thumbs moving quickly across the screen. "They're checking in about this project we are doing. It's part of this year-long freshmen seminar class we have to do for our major." They slowed their pace to finish typing, the gap between you and them growing. You nodded the word, "Micah," making your eye twitch slightly.

"Oh, Micah?" Tamarack's voice brightened with recognition. "I remember you telling us about him. Maybe he can visit during Christmas break, and we can all meet then!" Her suggestion was genuine, full of her characteristic openness to new friends.

You blinked a few times and swallowed the sudden dryness in your throat. You were not jealous of Micah. That would be ridiculous and incredibly immature.

They were just classmates, sharing the same major, same classes…same daily life that you couldn't be part of anymore…and responding immediately to each other's texts…

Qiu's hesitation was subtle but unmistakable.

"Well, maybe. Micah actually suggested staying on campus over the winter break with our group to iron out some ideas for the project. There's just a lot to do…and I want to make sure it gets done."

The words hit you like how a cold blast of air can steal your breath.

"You're not coming back for the holidays?" you blurted without thinking, your sled coming to a crunching halt.

Qiu glanced at you, a hint of hesitation in their eyes before they pulled their gaze away from you to look at Tamarack, who had also halted. "I haven't decided yet," they explained with a careful plainness. "They're depending on me, and everyone else said they could stay. So…it made sense. I dunno…" they said, trailing off and offering a shrug.

You watched Tamarack's smile fade slightly, her usual brightness dimming like a candle in the wind. She looked between the two of you, reading the tension with the intuition she'd developed over years of being caught between your occasional storms.

"It'll be here when you come back," she offered diplomatically, though her voice carried a note of disappointment. For a moment, the shy, unsure Tamarack Baumman returned.

A flash of annoyance washed over you as your eyes snapped to Qiu. It was one thing for them to make you feel brushed aside, it was another to make Tamarack feel it. Your friend who'd spent most of her life trying to find a place when it was like she had none.

"It's not like that. We're just…working well together."

"Right. Sounds like Micah's got you pretty wrapped up," you bit, unable to keep the pointed edge from your voice.

Qiu's eyes narrowed before softening into that maddeningly gentle look they sometimes gave you, like they could see right through your defenses. As soft as the snow falling around you…it upset you now. How could they look look at you in such a way when they were leaving you?

"Sure," you muttered, picking your pace back up and quickening it. Bitter bile settled in your throat, but you couldn't swallow it back. You passed the rest of your waiting families without stopping, heading straight for the payment shack. Behind you, you could hear Tamarack calling out.

"Woah, wait up!" She met you halfway between the shack and your car. "What's the rush?"

"Just want to get this tied down," you said, not meeting her eyes.

She searched your face with concern before she nodded softly in understanding, not pushing it further. Behind you, you could hear Qiu's footsteps slow, the distance between you stretching.

The rest of the afternoon blurred at the edges, like looking through a frosted window. You went through the motions—securing the tree to the car, drinking hot chocolate that you barely tasted, and adding half-hearted laughter to your mom's jokes. But inside, a numbness was spreading, dulling the edges of everything until you felt disconnected as if watching someone else's life unfold from afar.

Of course, Qiu wouldn't come back. Of course, they'd choose to stay with their brilliant new friends, working on important projects. You desperately wanted to be understanding, but that darker part of your head was insistent.

You wished you could be surprised. But you felt stupid because the last few weeks had shown that you were just a remnant from their past they'd eventually outgrow. Like the trees in the farm that sprouted too tall and strong for their original plot, Qiu had flourished beyond the confines of Golden Grove while you remained rooted in hard soil, too afraid to reach for something more.

If they weren't coming home for Christmas, maybe they weren't coming home for spring break. Then, if they weren't coming home for spring break, they may decide to stay for the summer, too.

You couldn't choose which would be worse, that Qiu would never come home or that they would, and you would be strangers.

The sad, small tree with the spindly bare branches too weak to hold cheerful baubles.

The drive back to the neighborhood felt endless. Sensing the tension, Tamarack filled the space with nervous chatter, but eventually, she even fell silent. Qiu stared out the window, their reflection a blurred silhouette against the darkening sky.

The cheerful Christmas music that filled the car's silence felt mocking now. It was sound coming from another universe entirely, one where everything made sense, people didn't leave, and you weren't slowly disappearing into the static in your head. Your hands gripped the steering wheel too tightly, but the pressure helped ground you in your increasingly foggy reality.

The tension continued as you parked in the cul-de-sac and even through the unloading of the trees. Your mom paused to look at you as you both propped your tree against the porch. Her gaze drifted to Tamarack and Qiu, who were waiting quietly in front of the Baumann's house. She smiled softly at you but didn't mention the expression you must be holding. Even if she knew something was wrong, she knew even better to let you come to her about it rather than push.

The warm light from the front window of Tamarack's house illuminated the darkening neighborhood as you approached and stood with the other two awkwardly.

"So… I'm gonna go get stuff ready if you're still coming in," Tamarack started, her voice careful, like she was talking to a spooked animal. She'd seen you like this before, during those harder years when everything felt too much, and escape seemed like the only option.

As she disappeared through the front door, the world around you grew impossibly quiet. The kind of silence that only comes with falling snow. Each flake drifted down like a tiny secret, gathering on Qiu's hair and shoulders. The yellow porch light cast long shadows across the snow, and you watched your breath cloud in the air between you, counting the seconds like heartbeats.

"Yeah, you can get started without us for a moment," Qiu answered, their gaze steady on you.

You could feel them trying to read you, just like they used to during those nights when you'd both sneak out before they'd learned to spread their wings and you'd learned to build higher walls. Tamarack's eyes swiveled between the two of you, and with a small smile, she nodded and headed inside.

"Can we talk?" Qiu asked softly, their voice barely carrying through the heavy stillness.

You could hear the muffled sound of Granny talking inside, Christmas music floating faintly through the windows, but it felt like you and Qiu were miles away from it.

Qiu shifted their weight from one foot to the other, their boots making soft impressions in the fresh snow. The nervous gesture was foreign to you. You'd seen Qiu nervous, but different from this.

Your mind was already racing ahead, a familiar static building behind your eyes. You recognized this feeling—the way your thoughts started to scatter like startled birds, how your skin felt too tight, and how the world began to take on that distant, dreamy quality that used to signal the beginning of another bad decision.

"About what?" you replied, though you knew exactly what they wanted to discuss. Your voice sounded strange to your ears as if it was coming from somewhere far away. You fixed your gaze on the snow gathering on Tamarack's mailbox, watching it build up crystal by crystal, anything to avoid meeting Qiu's eyes.

"About what's going on with you. You've been distant, and I feel like," Qiu paused, searching for words in the space between snowflakes. "I don't know."

You clenched your jaw, feeling the heat rise up your neck despite the cold. Anger was familiar territory — an old friend that had gotten you into trouble more times than you could count. It started as a spark in your chest, spreading like wildfire through your limbs until your fingers tingled with it.

This was better than the numbness, better than the fog. Anger made you feel solid and real, even as some distant part of you recognized it as a defense mechanism, a wall to hide behind.

"Funny. I was thinking the same thing." The words came out sharp and hot like sparks from a fire. You shoved your hands in your pockets, curling them into fists. The plastic fin of your dolphin keychain practically pierced your palm.

Without really deciding to, you turned toward your house, muttering something about getting clothes for the sleepover. It was a paper-thin excuse, and you both knew it. Your heart was pounding now, blood rushing in your ears, drowning out the peaceful quiet of the falling snow.

You didn't know why you were choosing now to be an asshole and to Qiu of all people, but the pulling ache of anger and subsequent guilt in you was overstimulating now. A feeling that had your skin itching.

"What's that supposed to mean?" Their voice held a note of frustration now, but underneath it was something else - concern maybe, or hurt. You couldn't let yourself think about that too much. Couldn't let yourself soften around the edges when anger was the only thing keeping you upright.

You took a deep breath, the words tumbling out before you could stop them. "Y'know, honestly, it doesn't matter since you're so concerned with not even being around to find out," you stated in a tight voice.

The silence that followed felt like glass about to break. You could see Qiu's reflection in your car window, their face a mixture of surprise and something else that made your chest tighten further, making the anger burn hotter. Did they pity you?

"Is that what you really think? That I'm trying to get away?" They took a step toward you, snow crunching under their boots. The sound seemed too loud in the quiet, making you flinch internally even as you held your ground. You turned and gestured to them casually as if it should be obvious.

"It seems pretty clear to me," you said, feeling the hurt and frustration vibrate through you and bubble under the surface.

Qiu stared at you for a long moment, their brows furrowing. "Y'know, you can act really stupid sometimes."

The words hit like a slap, and the anger that had been simmering beneath your surface exploded into something white-hot and dangerous. It was the kind of anger that used to lead to sneaking out windows, bad decisions in worse company, and nights you still couldn't quite remember.

"Stupid? You think I'm stupid? Qiu Lin, you're the stupid one! Fuck off," you hissed, the static in your head reaching a crescendo. Your vision seemed to tunnel, the edges of the world going soft and dark while the rage remained crystal clear at the center.

You knew you were being unreasonable, that your anger was misplaced, but you couldn't stop it. It felt better than the numbness, better than the fear, better than admitting how much it hurt to watch them outgrow you. Better than accepting your love for them was doomed from the start.

"I'm sorry," they said, running a hand over their face. We just haven't fought like this in years, and it just reminded me of how dumb we used to be." Their expression softened. "Is that really how you feel? What you said before, I mean."

To your surprise, Qiu laughed.

It wasn't cruel or mocking but soft and genuine, cutting through your anger like sunlight through storm clouds. The unexpected response made you falter, the rage momentarily giving way to confusion. The white-hot iron inside you cooling.

"You're my best friend," Qiu said simply.

The gentleness in their voice made your anger waver, threatening to expose everything you were trying to hide beneath it.

"I—I just miss you, I guess," you managed, your voice smaller than you intended. You stared at the ground, watching snow collect on your boots, unable to meet their eyes.

"Am I? Am I just that?" The words escaped before you could stop them, your voice cracking slightly. "Or is the better question, am I even that anymore?" Shit. This was dangerous territory, the kind of vulnerability that made your skin crawl. The static in your head grew louder, urging you to run, to hide, to do anything but stand here, exposed in the snow.

"What? Of course, you are," Qiu's eyes widened with concern. "Please, can we just talk about this?" Something in their tone made you pause—a note of desperation you weren't used to hearing from them. "Why are you shutting me out?" they asked gently, and the softness in their voice felt like sandpaper against your raw nerves.

You swallowed hard, tasting copper. "Because it hurts too much, I think." The vulnerability in your quiet voice was a razor's edge, and you hated how true the words felt.

"You can talk to me. I'm right here," Qiu insisted, taking another step closer.

You scoffed, the sound bitter in your throat. "For now." The fire of your anger was cooling, leaving behind something worse - that hollow feeling you'd been trying to avoid.

"I…" They hesitated, snow gathering on their shoulders and sticking like second thoughts. "I honestly thought going away would help me figure things out," they admitted.

"Figure what out?" you asked, surprise momentarily overriding your defenses.

Qiu looked away, their gaze drifting over the now-dark neighborhood. "Everything. Who I am. What I want."

"And have you?" The question was barely audible over the sound of your heart pounding.

They shook their head. "No. Honestly, if anything, I'm more confused."

You wanted to reach out, touch their hand, bridge the gap between you. But fear held you back, holding you in place like ice blocks attached to your feet.

"Maybe we both are," you whispered loud enough for them to hear.

Qiu turned back to you, their eyes meeting yours and warming.

"Then maybe we can figure it out together."

The silence that followed felt different, charged with potential and unspoken words. But just as you opened your mouth to respond, Qiu's pocket illuminated. Their phone buzz shattered the moment, pulling both of you back to reality.

They pulled their phone out, the blue light casting shadows across their face. "It's Micah. I should…"

"Of course," you said tightly, feeling the walls slam back into place. "Wouldn't want to keep him waiting." The bitterness in your voice surprised even you, but you clung to it like a lifeline.

Qiu sighed, pressing their lips into a thin line. "That isn't fair."

"Life isn't fair," you retorted, the childish response tasting like gross ash in your mouth. The static was back, louder now, drowning out whatever Qiu started to say.

They finally said, "We can talk more later tonight," but the words felt hollow, like promises made to children to keep them quiet.

Something in you snapped, a rubber band pulled too tight. The numbness was creeping back in, but it felt almost welcome this time.

"Actually, I'm kind of busy tonight. So, I think I'll pass," you stated bluntly, turning away from them and reaching for your car door. The keys felt cold in your hand, grounding you in your decision.

"What? Where are you going?" Their voice carried notes of confusion and concern that you could not bring yourself to acknowledge in the moment.

You waved a hand dismissively, not looking back. "Out to see some friends. You know how it is." The jab fell easily from your lips.

"What about Tamarack?" Qiu protested. You ignored them with determination. "Come on, don't do this," they added, though with a growing resignation.

They'd seen this version of you before and knew better than to chase after you when you got like this. It was also not in Qiu's nature to beg someone to stay, to be the one to blatantly request one's presence.

"Fine."

The single word from them carried more weight than it should have, falling into the snow between you like a stone as you threw open your car door and escaped inside.

In your rearview mirror, you watched Qiu turn toward Tamarack's house, their shoulders slightly hunched against the cold. Or maybe against something else. You started the car, the engine's rumble drowning out whatever thoughts tried to surface.

That old restlessness was crawling under your skin now, electric and demanding. You recognized it like an old friend - the same feeling that used to make you climb out your window at 2 AM, that used to make you take whatever was offered at parties just to feel something different, anything different. Your body hummed with it, every nerve ending alive with the promise of escape.

Your brain was already three steps ahead, mapping out the night like you used to - which backroads to take, which parties would still be going, which faces would welcome you back without asking too many questions.

Once around the corner, you pulled over, your hands shaking slightly - not from fear, but from adrenaline. That old electricity was running through your veins now, making everything sharper, more immediate. You remembered this feeling, how it used to make you feel powerful, untouchable. How it used to make you feel anything at all.

You scrolled through your contacts, muscle memory guiding you to a name you hadn't touched in a year: Jordan. The last message thread was short: "Nah, maybe next time" from you, left on read like so many things in your life. Back then, you'd started trying to be better, to be the kind of person Qiu wouldn't worry about, that Tamarack wanted to be around.

The phone in your pocket felt heavy as if it knew what you were about to do. How easy it would be to text those numbers you never deleted but pretended to forget. After all, some part of you whispered, isn't that what everyone expects anyway?

Funny how easily old habits come back.

Your thumbs hovered over the keyboard, and that delicious recklessness made your skin buzz. You could almost taste it - the sharp bite of whatever cheap liquor would be passed around tonight, the burn of borrowed cigarettes, the beautiful numbness that came with letting go.

"Hey, what's going on tonight?"

The response came faster than expected as if they'd been waiting for you to crash and burn again—maybe they had.

"At the usual spot. You pullin' up? It'd be cool to see you."

You knew it was a bad idea. Probably the worst. You knew sending this reply would only lead to trouble. But honestly? Trouble felt like exactly what you needed right now.

"Sure. See you soon."

With finality, you started your engine and pulled away from the curb, putting as much distance between you and Qiu as you could as quickly as possible.

[stevie-petey]

Had an idea and wanted to pester you about it (I’m kidding, I hope I’m not actually pestering you). What if you were to write a cute snow day blurb for Stug? Set in between S3 and S4? I ask because it’s currently snowing where I’m at and just thought “dang, that’d be so cute.”

you could never pester me i loooove answering blurbs <33 now if i may pester you i changed the timeline to between seasons 2 and 3 because i couldnt resist the idea of pre-dating steve n bug playing in the snow together n being all shy n cutie ugh

enjoy !

"its snowing," steve leans your desk chair back, nearly tipping over completely as he peers out your window. "like. a lot."

theres a mound of assignments on your desk and you only spare a quick glance outside. "oh," your absent minded tone doesnt go unnoticed by steve. "thats nice."

he narrows his eyes. "i thought you loved snow."

"i do," this time more genuineness comes through your voice. you look outside again and ache when you see just how snow has fallen. "but..."

your head tilts down to the work scattered between you and steve. youre insanely behind on calculus assignments and steve has a lab report three weeks overdue and today is the first real day your injuries from demodogs and billy have healed enough to even attempt to understand what a derivative is.

jonathan is stuck at home taking care of will and promised you hed help you with the math as soon as he was able, but now, with all the snow that inevitably will block the roads, you know youre doomed.

steve sees the stress that tenses your spine and an idea pops into his head. he snatches the homework from you and is running out of your room.

"what the-?" but hes already gone, annoyingly fast when he wants to be.

you run after steve, having no other option, really, and find him and dustin rushing to put their coats on.

"shes here!" dustin screeches when he sees you. he shoves at steve, urging him to hurry up, and your mother watches fondly from the kitchen.

you push past your brother. "what is happening?"

steve zips up coat and winks at you, giving no response other than flinging the front door open and chasing dustin through the snow. theyre gone in a heartbeat, giggling like children as they fucking prance through the falling snow.

"id join them if i were you, y/n." your mom says with a slight chuckle. "steve told me to hide your homework until you were 'soaked in snowflakes'."

your jaw drops. "mom-"

"im sorry, sweet girl." she laughs at you now. "blame that handsome boy of yours and go play with your brother outside. itll be good to get some fresh air!"

"but-"

"wear a coat!"

and then your mother shuts her bedroom door, leaving you to watch steve tackle dustin into the snow as they shriek and wrestle in the slippery ground.

"my eye!" steve squeals in pain, rolling around, and dustin giggles menacingly. feeling your eyes on him, steve flings a distressed hand towards you. "y/n, help a guy out here, would ya?"

even though he cant see you, you still roll your eyes at steve. dustin echoes his own sentiments of wanting you to join. the boys plead with you over and over and youre weak to them.

sighing, you grab your heaviest coat. "if either one of you even thinks about tackling me, youre dead."

dustin salutes you. "yes, ma'am."

you help steve up. his hand is cold and his nose red and eyes shining and you cant help but giggle slightly at the sight of him. theres flecks of snow that line his brown hair and hes a delicate kind of pretty that rivals the spiral of snowflakes.

"saved me again, angel." he winks at you again, causing you to blush.

"shut up." you shove at his chest, avoiding his tender eyes. they reveal more to you than you know hes ready to admit.

steve laughs and dustin throws a snowball at your face and everything is warm and soft.

-

﹂blurb masterlist

﹂if youd like to buy me a coffee ☕︎

[pandorasword]

Chaeri as the 8th and youngest member of BTS.

CHAERI'S MASTERLIST

YOU CAME

❒ words: 619

❒ summary: The night before Jungkook's enlistment

❒ pairing: Jungkook x 8thmember!OC

❒ notes: find notes at the bottom

December 11, 2023

A Fool

A fool to think she could be indifferent, a fool to think she could bear the separation, to say goodbye to him only in front of the cameras, to wish him to stay healthy and to take care of himself in front of everyone, Chaeri felt like an idiot. A fool to believe she could have stayed home the night before his departure.

Chaeri's AirPods were out of battery, and the volume on her cell phone was set to maximum, yet she didn't mind. She didn’t care that Jungkook's faint voice was echoing in the dim alley she was hurrying through, just having stepped out of the dark car that had hastily brought her to that point.

The pajama sweatpants she wore, not having had time to change into jeans, were lightweight. However, she remained unaffected by the biting winter wind, the weather gearing up for the first snow of that Christmas season. It would be the first snow she'd experience without her group, or rather, without her family, in 10 years.

The hoodie she had on was oversized, so much so that she had to repeatedly pull up the sleeves that kept sliding down her arms, extending to cover her hands, which made it challenging for her to hold the phone.

She knew the rest of the way by heart, so she allowed herself to stare at Jungkook's tired, sad face through the cell phone screen. 

He was giggling over a comment about the dryer being active just hours before he started his military career, but the laughter didn't genuinely reflect in his eyes

The boy she had grown up with, the one who slept in the bed next to hers when all eight of them shared a single room, her best friend, her first kiss, her first love—the boy who had strained his voice singing to her until her nightmares faded away.

Her family.

He was going to leave in a few hours, and she would see him again, God knew when.

She was stupid to think that she could stay at her place without feeling the need to look him in the eye to bid him farewell, without the pressure of pretending and calculating words, smiles, looks. 

"I'll miss you," Jungkook said, his voice soft, warm, almost hoarse. Chaeri knew him better than anyone else, knew for a fact that he would cry as soon as the live broadcast ended. And she had to be there. She owed it to him.

Despite all.

The janitor of the building where he lived recognized her right away; there was no need to show him documents or go through the necessary checks to ensure safety for the residents. She was grateful, as she was in such a hurry that she probably would not have stopped if he had tried.

She quickly made the decision to run up the stairs, two by two, as the elevator would be too slow, and she needed to reach there immediately. She felt the physical urgency.

The phone display went black; Jungkook had concluded the live, and she was right outside his door.

Gasping, her cheeks red from running.

The UGG TAZZs on her feet had only made it more challenging, threatening to trip her up more than once, but she was there. Finally.

Her long black hair stuck out messily from the ponytail she had tied back at home; she was stripped of her makeup, utterly unkempt, and hardly presentable. Yet, when the door slowly opened, and Jungkook's face appeared, his eyes wet with the tears she had anticipated, she felt perfectly in order. 

Perfectly as she was supposed to be. 

Perfectly where she was supposed to be.

“You came”

taglist: @alixnsuperstxr | @bts-dream | @enchantingbrowneyedgirl | @ycuvi | @cosmicwintr

❒ notes: Hiii. I wrote this out of the blue, it's 4:15 in the morning here, but I couldn't go to sleep without posting it How are you?

I think I'll feel Jungkook's enlistment even more. His live sessions gave me comfort and helped me sleep during difficult times.

As for the story, just to clarify, this is not the end hehe

[anakinellie]

romance by the season... t.n

autumn meant going back to hogwarts. it meant afternoons under the color changing leaves, catching the ones that felt by your feet as you prepared your notes for the next semester. evenings in the astrology tower, when the weather wasn't as cold as it would soon turn. soft nights, whispering between you two, the familiar faint smell of rain and cigarrettes, listening to each other's plans for the future followed by soft kisses and comforting promises.

cold winter dates are split between cuddles in the common room, heavy blankets and soft sweaters in front of the chimney and walks around the white snow covered school grounds. your gloved hands held together as you walk the silent halls that the winter break emptied of students. carefree laughter from you both when you play on the snow. his arms keeping you close and warm as you promise to always remember these treasured moments.

love in spring is warm and fast. taking every chance to talk around the grounds, soaking in the ever rare sunlight. resting against the trees as he lies on your lap, taking the chance to run your fingers through his soft hair. Library dates, holding hands underneath the table as you prepare for exams. one kiss for one good answer. it's him giving you his sweater, scarf or jacket when you forget yours, smiling softly as he adjusts it over your frame and kissing your forehead before reminding you that summer is not here yet.

summer break never tasted sweeter for him than now that he has you by his side. theo refused to bring you to nott manor, nothing but poisoned memories there, nothing he would ever let you close to. you two spent the summer in lorenzo's family cottage, your own special bubble of happiness, freedom and peace. days spent talking by the lakeshore, swimming, cooking together and making plans for the future. theo would admire your face reflecting the sun, so happy and soothing. that was the moment he realized he wanted to spend every summer for the rest of his life like this. in a cottage, with the love of his life sleeping by his side.

[servantserah]

✨ A guide to my Good Omens comics, fics and AUs ✨

Finally a new, reworked version! I've tried to compile this list with all my comics, AUs, fanfictions etc with links and tags to help everyone navigate them better! Please let me know if there are any questions or you'd like me to add/change something!

👇👇 Click "read more" to get to the full list! 👇👇

Please note that this list only includes AUs and works that consist of several parts/are a series; one shot comics are not listed here.

All of these works can also be found on my instagram, some of them on Twitter/X under the same tags.

🌱 Myosotis 🌱

Main comic (completed):

Myosotis is a flower, also known as ‘Forget-me-not’. It symbolizes faithful love and memories. According to a German legend, God forgot naming this flower and said “I forgot you once, I shall never forget you again.” This comic takes place one year after the events of Good Omens season 1. Crowley and Aziraphale have lost all their memories about each other. They meet again, thinking the other is human and feeling drawn towards each other, they soon develop a strong connection.

➡️ Start reading ⬅️ | Tag: #myosotisAU

-

Myosotis: Falter (completed):

This mini comic takes place 3 years after the conclusion of the Myosotis comic. Crowley and Aziraphale spend a rainy night at home when they get an unexpected visitor.

➡️ Start reading ⬅️ | Tag: #myosotis falter

-

So, you stopped Armageddon! ...Now what? (completed)

This fanfiction takes place after the final scene of season 1. Crowley and Aziraphale celebrate their newfound freedom and Crowley wonders if and how things between him and the angel were going to change. And what should they do now that they’ve retired? So many doors have opened before them all at once, it’s a little overwhelming.

➡️ Start reading ⬅️ | Tag: #SYSA! ...NW?

-

Crêpes (onging)

This comic takes place after the events of Good Omens season 2 and shows how Crowley deals with Aziraphale leaving.

➡️ Start reading ⬅️ | Tag: #Good Omens crepes

⚜️ GoodGardenerAU (ggAU for short) ⚜️

In this AU Warlock actually is the Antichrist and his demonic Nanny Lilith 'Ash' Ashtoreth has been tasked to take care of him and ensure he brings upon Armageddon. What happens when the Antichrist's nanny is actually a terrible demon who doesn't want Armageddon to happen, who forms deep friendships with the other humans at the ambassador's estate and, worst of all, falls in love with the human gardener? This AU isn't one consistent long comic, but a collection of several shorter comics, fanfictions and artworks. They are listed chronologically below.

Tag: #GoodGardenerAU

-

Lilium (completed):

This comic tells the story of how Ash became Warlock's nanny.

➡️ Start reading ⬅️ | Tag: #ggAULilium

-

Three Months (ongoing):

This fanfiction takes places immediately after the events of Lilium and is a glimpse into Ash's first three months living at the Dowling estate. It showcases their mental struggles and how they eventually let down their walls to befriend some of their new colleagues (among them the estate's gardener) and start their process of healing from millennia of trauma.

➡️ Start reading ⬅️ | Tag: #ggAU three months

-

Why It Doesn't Snow (completed)

A mini comic where Ash and Francis uncover the mystery of why it has stopped snowing in the area ever since Warlock’s birth.

➡️ Start reading ⬅️ | Tag: #ggAUsnow

-

Ineffable Uncles (completed)

This comic is part of the Good Omens/ggAU Multiverse. Aziraphale and Crowley offer to watch over their AU niece Eden (Francis and Ash's daughter) for a weekened. What could go wrong?

➡️ Start reading ⬅️ | Tag: #ggAUineffableUncles

-

ggAU Skyrim AU

An AU of my AU? Yes, sue me. This is a The Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim AU for my GoodGardenerAU. It takes place in the world and rough timeline of the game. Ash is a Dunmer working at Braidwood Inn in Kynesgrove who seems to live a second, secret life in the shadows. Francis is a Nord working at Hollyfrost farm outside of Windhelm. Warlock is the Nord son of two busy trades people at Windhelm. Ash has been babysitting him since he was young. He is a normal boy who just so happens to have a special soul residing within him.

Tags: #ggAUSkyrim

These are AUs that exist but I sadly don't draw very often.

📚 Untitled Ineffable Wives AU 📚

This AU is still in progress! Aziraphale is a human working at her family's bookstore, while Crowley is a naga stranded in the human world. I won't give more details until I have it all more refined. They're very much lesbians in this.

Tag: #untitled wives au

-

🧙🏼‍♂️ Ineffable Hobbit AU 🧙🏼‍♂️

An AU that takes place in Tolkien's Middle Earth, set primarily during the events of The Hobbit movies. Aziraphale Bilbo Baggins lives a quiet but peaceful life in The Shire until a wizard and thirteen dwarves drag him into an adventure to reclaim the dwarven mountain kingdom of Erebor from the terrible dragon Smaugley…. Only that Smaugley doesn’t seem all that terrible.

Tag: #IneffableHobbitAU

[chaosduckies]

Congratulations on 100 Followers!!! Big achievement!!!!

Gonna take you up on your open commissions so I’d love to see your take on a tiny being forced to ask a giant for help.

Your choice of characters but I’m a sucker for hurt comfort so go wild ❤️

Congrats again!!!

Thank you! :D

I'm sorry that this took so long to get out! I was having a minor writing slump but I'm back at it! I did have a lot of fun writing this and I hope you do to! (classic borrower asking a human for help)

Word Count: 4.2k

CW: Minor blood

Snow Fall

———Forest———

Everything was going great. I set off on my own, leaving my parents behind and starting my new life. Of course I was scared. Who wouldn’t be when you were two inches tall and leaving everyone you know and love? It was terrifying, but I had to. Borrower children, even though some were some-what good at borrowing from humans, were supposed to leave their parents as soon as they turned fourteen since it was a liability for their parents. I was just lucky and extended my stay for 3 more years. What could I say? I loved my parents just as much as they loved me, and no matter how many times my mom pleaded for me to stay, I knew I wasn’t that good at borrowing. I would eventually get us all in trouble. Which was why I decided to find a new home when I turned seventeen. It didn’t sit right with me that I was still leeching off my parents. 

Humans were scary. The horror stories, the pets, the kids. Almost everything about them scared me half to death. Just thinking about getting caught in one of those huge hands has me shuddering. I couldn’t think about myself getting caught, or what would happen to me, and to be honest, leaving my parents was the worst decision of my life. 

I wasn’t a good borrower to say in the least. I could barely hurdle over the counters without somehow hurting myself or becoming so sore the next day that I could barely move, I wasn’t the best at hiding. I had no idea how my parents did this at such a young age, but I wasn’t like them at all. How did they end up with such a failure like me? I laughed at the thought. 

My new home was nice. The human here had a schedule that I could work around. They left for work every morning, giving me plenty of time to get a little bit of food that they leave out sometimes, get some other things, and head back. They weren’t very observant of anything in particular, perfect for grabbing a few extra paperclips since my hook usually breaks from my own misuse. This house was perfect… or so I thought. 

After a while, the person stopped laying out food everywhere, they had started packing up their things in huge boxes, people in strange uniforms came by and dragged out anything heavy. I had no idea what was going on, but it wasn’t good. I stayed hidden in my home in the walls, scared of what was happening. I was too scared to go out at night and get my daily necessities, like food and water. Humans were terrifying. If I was seen by even one of them, who knows what might happen? I didn’t care if I was so hungry that my stomach was digesting itself, there was no way I was going to get caught and placed in some weird science lab. Testing me everyday, killing me slowly. I shuddered at the thought, wrapping myself in the thin cloth I managed to snag before any of this moving was happening. 

Lately the seasons have been changing, and the human that I thought was still living here hasn’t bothered to turn on the heater. This only made things a million times worse for me. I was already hungry, practically starving from not having eaten anything for the past three days, and now it was freezing cold. There was nothing I could do about it though. I was terrified. Scared. Too paranoid about what would happen if I stepped outside the comforts of my dingy home in the walls. No matter how much I wanted to go back with my parents, I couldn’t. More because I barely even remember the way back home, but also because it was already dangerous enough getting to this new home. I had no choice but to stay here in hopes that I could get over this fear of being seen and that the human had left some kind of food out. But there was no such luck. The house was empty. Furniture moved, heater off, no sign of food in the cabinets. Just nothing. My hope diminished as I sluggishly walked back home in defeat. There was no way I was going to survive. 

The human that I found so easy to maneuver around without being seen, that left food out, was now gone. Who knew when another one would just move back in? Most days I would walk around out in the open because there was nothing to do. I mean, without a human there was no chance of me surviving. I was too afraid to go outside because I knew there were animals that wouldn’t hesitate to mistake me for food. So staying inside was really my only option. Plus, it was just the slightest bit warmer here than outside. 

Sometimes I’d go sit on the windowsill, stay there for hours watching these tiny white balls fall from the sky and cover the ground. People passed by wearing thick coats that protected them from the harsh cold, and I couldn’t help but feel jealous. I looked back at the thin piece of cloth wrapped around me, barely giving any warmth while humans were able to be so warm, get food without having to worry about anyone seeing them (or in my case get food at all), heck, they weren’t even scared of anything. 

I sat alone, in a quiet house just waiting for anything to happen. I didn’t care if it was good or bad. I didn’t know how I was surviving for so long, nor how I was still moving despite searching the top shelves and countertops desperately for something. But of course it was always the same way it was. Empty. Nothing was changing, but in a bad way. 

My legs were sore from the amount of climbing I’ve done the past few days, my body was getting even weaker than it already was. I guess I really was going to starve to death, huh? All of that talking with my parents about making sure I would have enough to last me and it’s just wasted. How was I supposed to know that only a week after I found a new livable home that the human I was just barely getting used to was going to move out? Life wasn’t fair. 

Today was yet another sad, depressing day. I dragged myself along the floor, trying to at least be active while I was struggling to survive. Would another human be coming here soon? As much as they scared me and borrowers alike, most relied on them to help us survive. When they’re clumsy and forget easily, it’s easy to “borrow” a few things here and there. They leave food out or there’s an easy way to get into a cabinet, we can take a few things they wouldn’t notice. It was almost impossible to live without relying on a human in some way. Ironic how the thing I fear the most was the thing that was keeping me alive. 

I hoisted myself up onto the windowsill, breathing heavily as soon as I was safely up. I groaned in pain, wrapping up my hook and sitting by the window, once again staring at the white scenery. Other houses just across that had a slight smoke coming from the top of their house. Must be warm… I rubbed my arms, watching as a few people walked by, possibly on their way to work. I shivered, regretting not taking my “blanket.” 

Life wasn’t fair. I knew that much, but I forced myself to stay alive for whatever reason. My figure was getting slimmer from the lack of food, but I somehow kept moving. It was cold, but I gathered up any cloth I could find and wrapped myself up at night. My hook looked like it could break at any point in time, but it was hanging on just like me. If my hook did break, then there was basically no way for me to get anywhere but home and on the floor. I hoped that something would happen one day, but nothing ever did. 

Out of the corner of my eye, I caught something gray scurry along the floor. I stared for a couple long seconds before shrugging it off and continuing to look out the window. It was probably just my imagination. Great, now I’m hallucinating. I sighed, watching as cars carefully passed by. 

I don’t know how long I stayed on top of the windowsill, but eventually there was a change of scenery. At first I thought it was just my mind playing tricks on me, but there it was. A car parked right in front of the house, headlights turning off and revealing a human, zipping up their jacket and looking down at something and back at the front of the house. I was too caught up in my fascination to realize that I was out in the open. The human slowly started making their way up to the front door, holding something that looked silver in their hands. 

I scrambled for my hook, climbing down as fast as I could, which was very painful. At some point I lost my grip and fell, but to my luck it was only a couple feet. I hurried to my feet, pulling my hook from the ledge it was dangling from and ran as fast as I could to reach the extremely tiny hole I squeezed myself through. I took a few seconds to catch my breath before the front door opened. My eyes were wide, my heart pounding fast. Would my luck finally be turning around? 

The human was taller than the last and looked much younger. I couldn’t really get a good look at their face, but I could make out his dirty-blonde hair. I could hear my own heartbeat. Is everything going to go back to normal? Would I be able to survive on my own again? 

The human moved around the place, shivering and pressing some buttons on something. Soon enough, the house was slowly but surely being warmed up. I let out a quiet sigh of relief. It might not be much… but at least it was something. Better than the frigid cold that had been filling the house for who knows how long. 

They moved around the house, checking everything out and smiling, their eyes a nice shade of light-brown. They looked… so nice. For a split second my mind wondered what would happen if he would ever see me. Would he keep me as a pet like I’m pretty sure most humans would? Or… nothing? No, why would I even be thinking about that? He would obviously want to hurt me even more than I already was. 

My stomach rumbled quietly, I winced, but confused to watch as they came from outside and back in, carrying a few boxes, bags and a small case that had wheels on it. Was I finally… saved? If this human was moving back in then I could actually have a chance to survive? I silently cheered to myself. How long has it been? Almost a week maybe? How did I even manage to stay alive? Didn’t matter anymore I guess. 

I continued to watch the human, putting up things in the boxes, setting up a few mini tables and placing picture frames of him and, who I was guessing, his parents. Of course occasionally taking breaks for a snack or two, leaving a plastic container filled with what looked like fresh fruit and vegetables. After most of the boxes were unpacked, a few still in their bedroom, he went back outside, most likely to fetch something else from his car. He usually took a while out there… so maybe it would be enough time to go and quickly grab something to eat? No, that was too risky. What if I was wrong and he came back early? I doubt I’d have enough time to find a hiding spot while out in the open since he didn’t exactly have any furniture or anything. 

I slumped, making my way back to my bland home in the walls. I had always tried to decorate… but since there hadn’t been anyone living here for me to “borrow” a few things from, I haven’t been able to decorate. Only the small bed I made by gathering up a bunch of cloth that the human before had forgotten about. It wasn’t extremely comfy, but better than anything I could’ve asked for. Otherwise, boring room. But it’s not like I need to decorate it anyways. Surviving was my main focus right now, and now that there was someone actually living here now… maybe I’d have a chance to get back into things. 

The wait was long, hearing the human talk to someone on what I think they call a phone, hang up, set up their house again and spend most of their time gathering up all of the blankets and pillows that he had brought with him and gathering them all up in what I think was going to be his room. As comfy as it looked, I knew I couldn’t just take a couple of minutes to get somewhat comfortable. Lately every night has been spent cold, hungry, filled with false hope. If I could just take a couple minutes to have some kind of sense of safety and security, that would be great. But I haven’t been able to, and I doubt that I’d be able to even now. I never realized just how hard it is to survive. Imagine what my parents went through while taking care of me… 

I hugged my blanket close, my eyelids threatening to close at any second. I heard the sound of the door open once again, and the loud sounds of him dragging something across the floor. It was all fine for me though. My eyes shut close, I laid down, and soon enough my mind drifted off. 

——————

When my eyes opened, there was a quiet noise of people talking outside. My heart had skipped a beat, thinking that there were more humans living here. That would make it impossible for someone like me to get past without being noticed, but as I groggily stepped outside, rubbing my eyes to wipe away the sleep, I realized that it was only the tv that wasn’t there a couple hours ago. 

I looked around the dark room, seeing that there was now a singular couch in what was the living room, a tv, a table that held two more frames. How long had I been sleeping? Or better yet, just how exhausted was I? Obviously the sun had already set, so I guess it didn’t really matter. I headed back to my room, grabbed my hook, and took off, every now and then finding a hiding spot just in case the human was somewhere I couldn’t see him. 

My head turned towards a dark shadow scamper right across from me, but I didn’t pay any mind. Probably just my imagination, right? Right now I was just trying to make sure that the human was asleep right now just before I go and see if he had any food out… or at least something edible in the cabinets. 

I checked the living room first, hiding by one of the legs under the couch, peaking my head out just enough to see him having trouble keeping his eyes open. Good enough for me. I ran quietly back to the kitchen, throwing my hook as far up as I could before testing if it was safely secure. I started my trek up, my arms and legs begging in me to go back down. Despite my arms threatening to tear off from the lack of strength. I really wasn’t good at borrowing. 

As soon as I reached the top of the counter, I took a few seconds to catch my breath. Once I get used to the human’s schedule I may finally be able to get back into things. No going hungry for that long, not worrying if I’ll make it to the end of the night. as soon as he turns on the heater things would be even better… I wouldn’t be shivering at night and struggle to find something that would act as a blanket. Yet another reason to be jewels of humans. They had everything borrowers didn’t. It wasn’t at all fair, but we all knew what would happen if a human found or saw us. The thought was pure torture to even think about. Literally. 

On the counter, there really wasn’t anything for me to see except for the half-eaten sandwich just lying on the counter. I silently walked over, not really wanting to eat part of the sandwich that they had already bitten into but I had to unless I wanted him to already be suspicious when it hasn’t even been a full day. 

I started cutting off pieces, making them fit inside my bag and taking a few more unnoticeable pieces for tomorrow, learning from past mistakes. As I was cutting, I realized that there was something off. The tv was still on in the other room, I figured that the human still hadn’t left the couch either, fighting off sleep. So why did it feel so off? I treaded carefully, watching every tiny movement that caught my eye. For a moment it was so quiet that I could hear my own heart pounding in my chest, and then too quiet. 

My eyes searched around, taking my final piece into my hands since no more would fit in my bag. I might as well grab as much as I could. Better than having nothing. I let out a sigh of relief, grateful that I wasn’t dead, that I’d at least have some kind of way to survive. Out of curiosity, I took a small bite out of the sandwich, only really getting the bread part but it tasted so good. To be honest, a sandwich was a definite score for borrowers, now when you’ve been starving for days on end, it tastes amazing. 

Two glasses hit each other behind me, I turned my head seeing them spin before returning to their still pose. My eyes widened, hurrying to my hook that was still hanging off the edge of the counter. I looked back, the light making it easier to see a rat chase me down, easily twice my size. I let out a yelp as I ran through several spice glasses in hopes of losing it, only to hear them all fall onto the counter with a loud thud! That was bad for two reasons, one because not only was it making a mess and trails that I’ve been here, and two, because I knew the human would want to come and investigate what was happening. Of course being the person that I am, I would never be able to run faster than this  surprisingly malicious rat. 

I struggled to keep up my balance, eventually tripping on thin air, dropping the small piece of sandwich a few feet away from me. I quickly rolled over, my chest heaving up and down as I faced the rat not even given a second before they scratched at my shirt. I winced, holding my stomach and seeing my hand covered in some blood. My breathing was getting more heavy as I saw a silhouette by the kitchen entrance. The lights turned on, blinding the rat for just a second as I quickly stood up and kept running towards my hook, holding my stomach. I knew what was happening, and there was no way I would be found the second a new human moves in, right? I blinked back the tears building up in my eyes, tripping once again. My vision was blurry from the tears, and judging by the small squeaks from the rat I thought was a good couple feet away, that meant that the human was here. 

Forcing myself to sit up, I looked at the bowl that kept moving. The rat screeching to be released from their prison. The human placed some heavy books on top, sighing to himself as he muttered something under his breath I couldn’t catch, but I didn’t really care. I scrambled back onto my feet, trying to run yet again and slammed into something soft and squishy. I winced as I fell and soon my entire world was moving again, the soft surface now everywhere. 

It settled in my mind slowly, realizing that I was in human hands. It hurt to breathe from my new wound, but I couldn’t help it. Tears streamed down my face as I struggled to muffle the sounds of my quiet cries. 

“Oh! U-um, I didn’t mean to…” Their voice sounded quiet and worried. I just continued crying, not even caring what would happen to me. Who was I kidding? I could never have survived on my own! I should’ve known when that first human moved out. Sure it was okay at first, but obviously them moving was a sign that I wasn’t meant to be on my own. I should’ve listened to my parents and stayed with them. This would’ve never happened, I would be alive and healthy instead of on the brink of death and in Death’s hands himself. Literally. Who knows what this human would do to me? It was scary to think about. 

“P-Please don’t h-hurt me.” I mumbled most likely too quiet for his ears to hear, leaning against what I think was his thumb. He flinched slightly, but why did it feel so… comfortable? 

“Aw little guy,” He smiled softly, “I’m not going to hurt you, okay?” I leaned into the warmth from his hands, hugging what was his thumb closely, still crying to myself. What else was I supposed to do? Of course I was scared but… I also just wanted someone to hold me. Right now I didn’t care that it was a human and I’d face my consequences later, I just wanted to be promised that I wouldn’t have to try so hard anymore. That I could just live without thinking about what I could manage to get for dinner. 

“You were just… hungry?” He asked as I picked my head up, seeing him looking straight at the piece I had dropped on the counter. I shakily nodded my head, hoping he would see. For now, I would just hide my fear. Right now this human was giving me everything I’ve wanted this past week. Comfort, warmth. Heck, I’m even crying in front of him. How embarrassing was that and he still hasn’t said or asked me anything. 

“Hm, here little guy.” He tried tilting me back onto the counter, but I grabbed onto his sleeve and hung on tighter. I didn’t want to be let go already. I know humans are bad and I’d face the consequences eventually, but right now I’d like to think that not all of them were as horrifying as the stories make them out to be. 

He softly laughed, cupping both hands around me again. I sniffled, “C-could you… h-help me? P-please.” I tried wiping away my tears, but they just kept coming. My eyes felt red and puffy, my legs felt like jello, heart racing. I was a mixture of emotions. Terrified, filled with hope, and most of all grateful that this human hadn’t decided to hurt me yet. 

The human studied me, worried. I stood still for a moment, hoping I would get my answer. It seemed ridiculous to be asking a human this. One that probably had no idea that they had saved me in the first place. My heart thumped in my chest, waiting in the eerie silence, awaiting my answer. My stomach still burnt from the deep gash, but I've had to go through worse. There was still some blood that was getting on the humans’ shirt sleeve, but that was the least of my worries. 

I felt something rub against my back, making me flinch, but lean into the gentle touch. Some part of me knew that this was wrong. Everything about this was wrong. I was sitting in a humans’ hand, talking to one, being seen by one. And for some reason, it all felt right. Everything felt right. That this was meant to happen. That it was alright for me to be vulnerable to this human. 

They started moving their hand as I continued to cry, pressing my face into the fabric of his shirt. When I opened my eyes, I found myself in a makeshift hug. I could hear his heartbeat in the background beating rhythmically, the slight rise and fall of his chest with every slow breath he took. I sniffled, shocked from the gesture but otherwise grateful. I wasn’t going to die. I was alive. I felt safe. There was no more suffering, no more false hope, no more anything. I would be fine. I smiled to myself, trying to wipe away the tears trailing down my face. 

I guess sometimes it’s okay to ask for help. 

——————

I hope you enjoyed! I don't know how to feel about this myself, but I think it's alright! Again, I had a lot of fun writing and thank you for the prompt!

Slowly getting out of my writing slump, hopefully get these prompts done plus something reallyyyy exciting (well at least it is to me)

Thank you for reading! :D

Taglist: @da3dm

[kittsyspaw]

✦ ❝ 𝐋𝐞 𝐥𝐚𝐦𝐨 𝐞𝐥 𝐩𝐢𝐞𝐫𝐜𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐲 𝐥𝐞 𝐣𝐚𝐥𝐨 𝐞𝐥 𝐩𝐞𝐥𝐨 ❞

𝑆YNO ✦ .ᐟ Girlbf!Shelly Scott has a wet dream about you after you show her your hidden piercing, only to wake up at the good part

WARNING !¡ Girl x girl, Smut, scissoring aka clit against clit, Oral(kind of), clit piercing, AFAB!Reader, Shelly being clingy n touchy idk what else

Girlhood, womanhood. Whatever the term was, it represented girls, an element of it was also the friendships, unbreakable bonds between two or more girls. You and Shelly had immediately clicked like a puzzle piece, like this cooperation was destined to be, you once found her in a public bathroom and she asked you for your lipgloss and that's where the journey started between you two.

Shelly loved winter, the cold breeze that tingled every miniscule pore on her face, her freezing hands and skin. The way the snow crunched beneath her uggs or landed on her hair gracefully then withering away like it never was there, leaving a trail of just a barely noticeable sparkle.

All-over.... this winter was special. December 25th. Her Christmas present that was delivered to by fate itself, santa had sent one gift too soon.

It was the season where she had met you. In that public bathroom. She was insufferable from you ever since. Your hand was always caged by her warm one. She loved your personal space, she loved using your stuff, she loved pecking you or playing with your hair. It just made Shelly feel more intimate with you.

Ever since.... everybody doesn't approach you anymore approach you and Shelly.

Eleven months later and you two were still as close as ever, things had changed, you two grew together like twins that were separated as kids and soon... you rented out a high-end apartment together, Shelly was living the dream. Tasting a delicious bite out of her couple love story that was only playing out in her imagination.

Giggles and gossip were always divided between the harmony of you both, an arm hooked around yours, your walks matched pace and you exchanged new stories or talked about your favorite things, maybe even planned a date on the next tuesday after finishing school. Shelly knew all your belongings and you knew hers. She told you about a boy that she had met on her trip to Korea that she fell in love with, in reply, the blonde had discovered the relation you had with this one girl before.

And then, Shelly had been thinking about that, so...you were with a woman before? Like in an actual love relationship? In the present now, she was sitting right beside you on your bed, scrolling on her device when a picture of her popped up, an insanely beautiful one where the sun extended the attention on her blinding golden locks, her light, shiny blue eyes staring at the camera.

It was a picture that she really cherished of herself, she took it when she first stepped out of the airport in Korea. An extremely important memory to her since it was the day her life took her on a rollercoaster ride.

The girl dimples marked her face when she curled up her moisturized lips in a gentle smile, turning her phone to show it to you. Her brain sorted out all her dreams so now she was wondering whether you found her attractive or not. Pride ran in her veins at her gifted face, she knew she had a unique beauty that had all heads twisting in her way, people falling or crashing into walls or poles when they gawked at her, her confident walk, nose high in the air and make-up flawlessly done.

Shelly, when she first got to know you, didn't focus on your looks it was your personality that made her giddy. She loved your aura and the way you socialized with others. You refused to badmouth people badly, always claiming that everyone has their reasons and shouldn't be judged. Those words had been trapped inside her heart, she was shaken by the way you carried yourself it made others pull in to you like you were a magnet, Shelly being one of them.

You were so ready to help others, it reminded her of someone...

Eventually, the blue-eyed woman had taken note of an assumption, she didn't really flip any pages in your diary of experiences, history and secrets. Only a few. Shelly always blurted out everything to you, no matter what, she just couldn't keep anything inside her for long and had to get it off her chest. "Soo....y/n. Do you have a crush on someone Atm?"

"i guess so? Dunno girl, why do you ask?"

Shelly gasped playfully, hitting your arm before applying the oily liquid on her lips, smearing it on them by pursing her lips together. "Why didn't you tell me? Who is it! Is it someone i know?" Her heart pumped in excitement, hoping for an answer that would satisfy the dopamine that rushed through her nerves in the second.

The laugh you let out sounded just like a melody, Shelly felt blessed to be able to attend the wink of time as you did so, supporting her head by placing her chin on the center of her palm. "Yes, it's actually someone you know. But anyway, did you see what you-know-who did in Spanish class?!"

Her jaw dropped to the floor at the memory that partook in the special course you both decided to take to relieve some highschool fragments from the past. It was amazing, the course teacher was funny and so were the other people that learned some new things there, it was more like a friend gathering. "Yes i did, i was literally trying not to run out of class...okay but the girl with the red hair? i can't believe she has nipple piercings! You could literally see them through her shirt, it's honestly so cool?"

You tilted your head to the side a bit, taken aback by the exclamation, jealousy striding forward with your response "Seriously? I also have a hidden piercing." The shock that fell on Shellys face made you grin deviously, laughing a bit before shaking your baby hairs away from your eyes. "You're joking. Show it to me. Now." Her whole posture changed, the blonde sat up, crawling closer to your side of the bed and taking your arm to hug it.

Looking up at you with pleading eyes and pouted lips, Shelly made a puppy face, "please, please, please, pleaseee!! Show it, there's no way that i haven't seen it yet, you're the worst!!" She was only tugging on your arm as you teased her by rolling your eyes.

"it's somewhere... private, Shell."

"okay? I won't be disgusted. I find piercings really hot...unless it's on your anus or something..."

Sharing a laugh with her, you playfully told her that it was near there and the way her face dropped so quickly had your lungs hurting from the way your noises filled the room, lighting it up with your cheerfulness. "You dork, it's just a clit piercing." Her blue eyes bulged out of their place, a hand slapping over he wide open mouth.

"shut up....Show it to me, please?"

Eyeing her in lively disbelief, the woman held another begging expression which made your whole body heat up, your cheeks were warmer than a heater at this point as you closed your eyes, taking a breather. "Shelly, you sure?"

The girl chewed with her pearly whites on her lower red flesh, nodding quickly. The glimpse in her pupils showing you the cravings she held. Shellys blue painted fingernails curled at the waistline of your sweats, pulling them towards her, her mouth watering as she watched the way your body moved, muscles defining your molded body parts.

She caught a glimpse of the lace covering your heat and thanking the dim light that shined on the ceiling, Shelly furthermore twisted out another detail of the wet-patch spot on your underwear

"Can i...?"

Your head nodded on its own, searching for a friction to satisfy your needs. Using your weak knees as support, you snatched down your sweats, revealing your panties, Shelly couldn't help but whimper at the sight of your piercing being shaped by the fabric of your underwear.

A VCH, standing short for vertical clitoral hood piercing.

She curled her finger around the material, sluggishly sliding it from the position down where it hugged your flesh so magnificently. She progressed every second as the second pulse in her body went on, her puckering hole searching for a touch to bring it to its edge.

This was more drugs. It was a dangerous element that made you addicted when you took a sniff. The euphoria makes you claw at your body for more, rip the supple flesh and present it just to get one more taste. That element was you.

Shelly was lucky, she always has been. This was her second early sent gift from Santa, she must've been the number one on the list because there's no way she gets to witness something this mesmerizing. Just as your underwear only stuck at your pussy lips, the metal from the piercing sticking out on the bundle of nerves.

"mhm... you're a mess already."

Pointing that out as she lifted your hoodie above your breasts, hissing at the sight of your perky nipples that bounced in her hazy vision. The girl started masking your tummy with open mouth kisses having you shivering and trying to tremble away when she reached your pearl.

The blonde pushed you back on the mattress, leaning her upper body down with you in a way it made her bubble-butt stick out in the air. Shelly made out with your pussy, her other hand was gliding up your thigh until it could prod at your entrance, smiling as she used her tongue to pleasure you when they slid right inside.

The confident girl sat back on her calves, gaping at the sight she created. You were messy, breaths forced out of your body. Her fingers continued running up and down your slit but they stopped, circling your clit before squeezing it then flicking it.

"A-ahnn!!"

Your tongue lolled out your lips and glossed over eyes rolled back into your brain. "Cryin'? Would you cry even more if i pinched you harder?" With legs squirming and kicking around, your partner pleasuring you, took off her restraints, leaving her half naked in your bedroom. Shelly made infinity figures on your clit with her tongue, nudging the metal. The pulls on her hair sending electricity right down to her own little bead which she wanted to feel on top of yours so badly.

With globs of liquid covering her chin, sparkling beneath the lightbulb, Shelly tried something else out. She pushed your knees to your chest, getting a hold of your thighs before she whipped up your creamy and sticky cum like cream. The luscious tingle on her tongue made her sit up, using the muscle in her oral cavity to clean up the sides of her mouth that formed a smirk as if you were one exquisite meal.

She draped her leg over your thigh, sitting on top of your tummy so your pussys squished against each other, mixing your juices. Shelly started out at a slow pace before her hips rapidly buckled against yours, your clits rubbing together and kissing. She was impatient, crying out for more.

"Oh my love...."

The view was magical, Shelly cried out at the cold of your piercing that had a peripheral lingering effect on her pussy while yours was on fire. "Im so close," sobbing in pleasure, your torso jerked up, followed by your lower body. The blonde was blinded by pure bliss, focused on the sticky liquid that honeyed your swollen and throbbing lips like a glazing as she grinded over you, chasing her high.

She lit on fire. It was all so unreal, her? In bed with her crush? The one who's a disaster beneath her right now? Pawing at the pillows and her ass?

"Shelly! shelly!"

"mhm...! Ack·!"

Abruptly gasping, she woke up with uncomfortably drenched underwear, sweat on her forehead whereas her hairs stuck to it like glue and breath cut short. Wiping away the drool from her chin, she looked around the room perplexed.

Well shit....she ruined a perfect paradise. Did she fall asleep after you showed her your clit? It was a picture...right?

"Are you alright, Babe?"

No, she was just embarrassed that she had such sinful ideas about you.

Her heart skipped too many beats as you walked into the room looking at the dishevelled Shelly, her hair out of place, the eyebags beneath her eyes and finally her flushed face when she saw you. "Oh my, are you running a fever?"

Ngl im going crazy with these one shots.

But who cares, i have a long way to go with practice.

Lyrics taken by FLVCCKA, Song; El maña

[hannamoon143]

Snow & Sun (Chapter I)

Barista, musician han x Writer fem. Reader

Angst, Fluff probably

Warnings: idk uh rude comments?

⋆⁺₊❅。You are like snow, beautiful but cold ⋆⁺₊❅。

Snow is so beautiful looking, that sometimes people can't resist to touch it. But when their hands and the white crystals meet, they get shaken back to reality. Snow gets to be mesmerizing like nothing else, but it's cold. Ice cold.

Snow & Sun Masterlist

a/n: idk how i like this, but it‘s kinda just getting into the story. I‘m looking forward to the real angst😼

*Sigh* Han put on his shirt, getting ready for another day of work. Another day of endless thinking and boredom.

It wasn‘t that his life was so bad. He was a decent music producer and singer- well not quite there yet, but he was working on becoming one. He had the little, cozy cafe with his best friend minho, that grew close to his heart by time. It was just, everything was always the same.

Han had always been the more quiet kid. When he was still at school he was the weird guy sitting somewhere alone, listening to music, when the other kids were having lunch with their friends. He never really intended to change this though . He didn‘t like being surrounded by many people anyways, and he actually pretty much enjoyed his quiet little life. Well that was until minho showed up in seventh grade and kinda just adopted him. He never protested, and since then, they were best friends. But except minho, and some people that minho introduced to him sometime, he never bothered about getting a more active social life. When he finished school that didn‘t change so much. He went to university, studying music, and in his free time he was either playing guitar or writing songs. Then in last year in university minho came up with the idea to open a little coffee shop, to gain some money while studying, and now, two years later he was still working here. It was pretty nice, to just gain a bit money, while he was working to get a producer and singer.

So yes, he did like his life. But lately it seemed a bit boring. His whole life he didn‘t reallly interact with people much, his parents barely home too. Somewhere deep inside he maybe always longed for a bit more, but he just made peace with himself someday, that he just wasn‘t the type of person people would ask to hangout randomly, and making bonds that would break anyways was pointless.

He left his apartment that he shared with minho, walking to the not so far away cofee shop. It was getting cold again, the last pieces of summer faded by now. Leaves were brown, laying around on the streets. Jisung liked the cold seasons, but he also hated them. Every single one of the earlier so wonderful flowers died then. Sometimes it felt like this for him too. When it was getting colder and cloudier outside again, jisung just kinda always started to overthink more, and he started to feel tired, and empty. Why? He actually didn’t have a single idea.

Minho mostly went to work a bit earlier, to get things ready and open the cafe. When jisung came in, minho was just turning on the „open“ sign. „Ah, see who is here too, after i‘m already here for an hour.“ Minho said sarcastically, but jisung just pat his shoulder and went behind the counter. Minho sensed that jisungs mood wasn‘t the best today, and after all these years, he knew it was better to just give him his space.

Soon customers rushed in, some for breakfast, some for a coffee before work, some students to meet up before school. Jisung liked to watch people, in a non creepy way. He liked to see how they laughed at little things their friends said, or the way people blushed when their partner laid their hand above theirs. He just loved watch humans being humans, as weird as it sounded.

It was these little things that inspired him for songs, or gave him a small reason to be happy. That was probably the reason, why he even agreed to have the coffee shop with minho in the first place.

Today was no different, jisungs mood began to lighten up while watching an old couple come in, being happy about the difference of the cold outside, and the warmth of the cafe, and just laughing at things the other one said. He went to their table to take their order, then hurrying back behind the counter quickly to make them green tea. As he turned to the front again, placing the cups on a tablet the doorbell rang. Jisung didn‘t look up just saying „Minho, you taking the order?“ But minho didn’t respond, seemingly somewhere in the back right now. He sensed the person standing in front of the counter now, so he was about to tell them to wait until he brought the old pair their order. But then he looked up.

Minho always laughed at these scenes in romance movies where suddenly everything is slow motion when someone meets and it‘s „Love on the first sight.“ Jisung never really thought about them, but in this moment, he had no doubt that these movies were totally for real. It was as if the whole world stayed silent for a split moment when he looked at you.

You weren‘t just some pretty girl at the coffee shop, jisung had seen those before. You were mesmerizing. Your eyes were deep like the ocean, and your hair shiny as if you just sprung out a shampoo advertisement. There were other people in the cafe, and it must have started to snowrain outside, but nothing of this, or anything at all mattered right now. There was just you.

He must have stared a bit longer than just a little moment, because you raised your brow, looking at him skeptical. „Are you gonna take my order or are you being paid for standing there like a sculpture?“

Jisung immediately got shaken out of his freeze, mumbling apologizes. You just rolled your eyes and without another word you said „black coffee.“ and you went away, to sit down on one of the tables in the back. Your voice was unbelievably pretty too, it sounded like an angels voice, clear and captivating. Jisung must have stared after you again because suddenly minho was looking over his shoulder, whispering: „Who are we stalking today?“ Jisung jumped and turned around blushing deeply. Minho frowned but jisung just went to get your order, the order of the old cute couple entirely forgotten. Minho hadn‘t seen him flustered like this before, but decided not to think too much into it.

With trembling hands jisung was making your order. What was going on with him? He had crushes before, but they never got him this flustered. And how could he even speak of a crush when he knew you for five minutes only?Not only your incredibly beauty, but there was something else that mesmerized him. But what? He had to be stupid, he didn‘t even know you. Finally, as he was done with your order, he braced himself and walked over to your table. It didn‘t seem like you were waiting for anyone. Instead you had your laptop placed on the table, working something on it. As he got nearer and clumsily placed your coffee on the table (god, he was so nervous, he almost spilled it on you. If he would have, he was sure to die out of embarassment though.) he couldn‘t help but take a look at your laptop. There was a document opened, and you were writing on it, not even giving him thes lightest attention, or thank you.

Jisung had no idea what got into him, or since when he was so brave but he blurted out „What are you working on?“ You didn‘t know him, and he wasn‘t even sure if you had seen he was standing there, but you didn‘t even wince. Still writing on your word document you slowly said: „Why would i give out information of my latest work to a stranger? I‘m a professional,, barista boy.“ Your tone was cold, it sounded like you were thinking he was a total weirdo, but for some reason it made his stomach flutter. The poor boy got very flustered again, and he mumbled apologies, and how he wasn‘t a creep or something. But you didn‘t give him any more attention. So he just walked back to the counter with red ear tips, and the thought that he just embarassed himself in the most stupid way, on his first ever interction with you.

He was so deep in thought that he didn‘t even see minho standing there with a smirk and a raised brow. Jisung ran straight into him, stumbling a bit. Minho just laughed leaning in. „Do you know this woman? Do you like her hannie?“ If somehow possible jisung blushed even more, pobably looking like a tomato now. He was praying that you weren’t seeing him right now. He covered minho‘s mouth, looking over to you, to see if you heard him. But you were engrossed in your work, ignoring everything else. Jisung shot minho a glare and then just walked away. Minho would let him go for now, but later at home he would squeeze every information out of him.

For the rest of the time you were sitting there, not a single time looking up from your writing. You were just like himself, when he was working on a song, jisung thought. Embarassed to the ground, he didn‘t want to take a step near to your table anymore, so minho had to take almost all orders. Then, when you were standing up after almost three hours, of writing, and only a black coffee, you just took your laptop, put your coat on and turned around, walking out the door. Jisung had no idea if he would ever see you again. He wouldn‘t come back here himself if a barista was being such a creep. But still he couldn‘t help but hope. He couldn‘t help but hope to see that beautiful, mean girl with the writing again.

Permanent Taglist: @0omillo0 @darqlys @lina-linny @onementally-unstabel-kid

@idek6758 @kozumesphone @emilywjinnie @sadie-tucker @lezleeferguson-120

Series taglist : @catiuskaa @asherthehimbo @estella-novella @thoughtfularbiternightmare

[obislittleone]

The Winner Takes It All

Episode 15

Pairing: Finnick Odair x Tribute(OC)!Reader

Chapter Warnings: This one is a little nerve wracking and angsty but there's a lot of fluff, too. ALSO THE BIG REVEAL.

Chapter Summary: The crowning ceremony has begun, but Snow's words drive Finnick to do something he may regret sometime in the near future.

Word Count: 5.0k

Season two is being written rn I'm about halfway through and It will be 20 chapters (I will not be posting them any time soon bc i swore i would finish some other series)

“I think that they were enraptured purely by you, Mercedes.” But your face still did not change, and he didn’t know why. Why were you so completely happy? He had known for certain from watching the games that you did not win them for glory or for stature. You won them to survive, to exact vengeance. So why were you filled with joy? “I suppose it was t-the work of my mentor,” you breathed out, never looking away from him in the crowd. He couldn’t hear a word being said, but he was smiling back at you all the same. 

Waking up felt achy the next morning. Like your entire body had been dragged through hell and landed in this bed, surrounded by comforts you’d never seen. It felt like you were slightly dehydrated, and most likely experiencing the strain of tight muscles from the night before. The way you’d cried, your entire body jolting like it was the end of the world, it was now affecting you. 

You felt as if you were dying, but then as you came into clearer consciousness, you felt the warmth surrounding you, in the form of two arms that were tightly wound over and under your body, holding you close to his own that practically radiated heat. It was your reminder, that though you felt like dying, there was still something left for you here. 

It wasn’t said that you had to be awake by a certain time, nor did anyone go over your schedule for the day ahead of you in any moments prior. It stands to reason that you don’t make any moves to get up. It’s why you don’t even stir past a few blinks of your still sleepy eyes, staring with great interest at Finnick’s resting features. He’s so beautiful and defined, but without those snarky expressions or that dazzling smile, he looks so peaceful and soft. If not for the light shining in gentle beams over his shoulder, you may not have awoken, but you’re glad you did. You find you rather like looking at him, especially so close and personally, in a way that few others have ever seen him. 

After a few moments you allowed your eyes to close again, snuggling further into his chest, right between his shoulders. He had nice shoulders, you noted. They were broad and tan and strong. 

He stirred not long after, tightening his hold around your body and pressing a light kiss to the top of your head. It was small and he thought that you weren’t even awake to feel it, but every time he did that you were slowly understanding why he did it. It was just a gesture, sweet and endearing, and a reminder. You’re here, you’re alive, and you’re with him.

His fingers found solace in the strands of your hair, the length gliding through and falling over his palms. He came to a conclusion the night before, after the charade with the Flickerman Interview played out. He watched you go through that, alone on a stage, with only gawking capitol members surrounding you. Your trauma didn’t matter to them. To them it was drama, and they loved it… wanted to see more. 

He kissed your hairline once more and started to whisper in your ear. 

“We have to get up soon,” his voice was low and raspy from sleep. 

You groaned in defiance, turning in his arms but not leaving them, instead pulling them closer around your front as you buried your face into his elbow. 

“No we d-don’t…” 

He sighed. He certainly did not want to get up. He thinks back to every moment during the games when his stomach turned with fear, his jaw staying in a state of constant tightness while watching you in that arena. His belief that you could win was never unbothered by the small voice in his head telling him you were going to die. He remembered the feeling of dread that would fill him to the brim every time he saw you close to death, knowing he’d never hold you like this. Never be able to kiss the crown of your head or pull you closer into the curve of his body where you seemed to fit perfectly. 

Eventually, you both got up, because today was the crowning ceremony. The Victor was to accept her title and become the Capitol’s newest darling. You understood what came with it, and despite the horrors you knew you would face, you told yourself you were ready to take it on. This is the cost of escaping the arena with your life, when all others, including your allies, and best friend, did not. 

Dalton had left your new dress and necklace in the apartment that morning, unable to stay for an interview he had himself. The stylist of the newest Victor, the current peak of popular fashion. The one who was capable of extenuating even the most desirable of the tributes.

You opened the garment bag that was hanging on a portable rack in the living room, reading the small note that was peaking through the sides. 

For the mermaid… knock em’ dead.  - D

You smiled and took a look at the dress, your eyes lighting up as you pulled the floor length get up out of the bag. It was a stunning turquoise with an iridescent top layer, pearls and fish beads sewn into the fabric. The edges of the bottom looked like crashing waves, and it flared out in comparison to the tightness of the top. 

You took the dress back to your room, starting to get ready, but you realized you weren’t sure what to do with your hair. It was just down and around your shoulders right now, and you wished you’d had your mother’s expert hand in braiding it or twisting it into some sort of crown. 

You sighed in frustration after your third failed attempt, and though you hadn’t been paying attention to your groans and noises of annoyance, Mags had, because her door had been open, right across from yours, open as well. 

She leaned in the frame, watching you struggle for the last time before you threw the comb in your hand onto the vanity before you, leaning your head into your hands. 

Mags stepped in right away, her silent approach calming when she gently placed her hands on your shoulders, reaching in front of you and picking up the comb you dropped. You lifted your head and met her eyes in the vanity mirror before smiling to her in relief. 

“T-thank you.” 

She made quick and gentle work of pulling the strands in her direction, twisting them together and taking small pins from the vanity to place them down. By the time she was finished, your hair was put into a sweet looking bun, small tendrils framing your face and behind your ears. 

“It l-looks beautiful.”

She lightly patted your shoulder, helping you out of your seat and over to the bathroom to change into your dress. 

-

Finnick had been waiting to leave for a few minutes now. He knew Mags had gone to the rescue when you were struggling with your hair, but he wasn’t sure why everything else had taken so long. Dalton didn’t usually take very long preparing any tribute that sat in front of him. He supposed it was because he had a lot more experience.

Dalton was technically not the stylist for the female tributes from four… but he was Finnick’s stylist, and friend, and when Finnick asked for him by name before the games, the man had no qualms about saying yes. He felt he would have to owe Dalton a favor of some sort, because in his mind, having him as your stylist saved your life. 

He had gotten caught up in his thoughts, but turned on his heel as soon as he heard the sound of pearlized shoes clicking along the floor behind him. The dim lighting from the barely open shades provided a soft haze over the room, a glowing ambience, the reflection off the black tile allowing a certain allusion of floatation when you entered the room. 

You looked beautiful, of course, but he noticed a confidence in your step he hadn’t seen since before the arena. You looked more powerful, more ethereal. 

He wanted to say something when he met your eyes, wanted to open his mouth and feel actual words leave his mouth, but the longer he was locked onto you, the less his mind was able to work coherently. Words failed him completely, and rightfully so. 

“I t-think Dalton outdid h-himself,” You beamed, giving a small and slightly clumsy twirl in the dress. 

The first thing that came to his mind was the conversation Lukas had with Rodey in the arena, how he thought he’d fallen in love with you because of one night when you twirled in a dress, lighting up like a star in a dark sky. He recalled the exact words. Like some crazed wind turbine. You’d only twirled once, but he could only imagine it was the same as all those years ago. You had a spark of happiness in your eyes, even after everything. He caught a glimpse of your whole body before returning to your facial expression again. 

“You’re beautiful,” he smiled, finally able to gather the two simple words he’d been searching for this entire time. You’re beautiful, you’re innocent, despite the games. You’re a force to be reckoned with in the best way possible. He wants to preserve this image of you, keep it untarnished, so he tucks it away in the recesses of his mind to return to in the future. “The color suits you.”

Your smile and slight giggle that erupted told him that maybe you were just as nervous as he was, and perhaps you were just more outwardly expressive. 

“You look g-good, too.”

He didn’t even think about how he looked, if he was being honest. An older white knit sweater shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows, and embellished buttons on the side coming directly from both of your district. 

“I’ve been known to clean up nice, sometimes,” he laid on the charm, trying his best to wear a facade before he even stepped outside. There was no use in keeping on in his stare like a poor love struck boy. He had a show to put on, today. 

He offered his arm, and you took it without hesitation, glancing over at Mags who had only now made her presence known, following you all to the door. Arbin would probably already be at the party, knowing him. He needed to be where the noise was, the drama, and the excitement. A true capitol citizen, except for maybe he had compassion. More than any of the other higher up bloodsuckers did, anyway. 

The ride to the center of the capitol was extremely wild, the shouts of fans outside the windows, they were screaming and shouting. You couldn’t bring yourself to dislike it, though you didn’t exactly throw yourself into the adoration, either. This was life, now. You didn’t have a choice or a way to change it, so you might as well just let the world go on around you. 

The fanfare of triumphant music began the moment you stepped onto the concrete, the grounds and buildings around you decorated with things reminiscent of four. You were somehow always surprised when the capitol showed a new part of itself to you, as if you expected something different. They strangely romanticized the cultures of the districts, but would never even think about setting foot in any of them except for the ones that are well off.

You allowed yourself to feel important while roaming amongst the citizens. Making your way to the glorious stage, where a throne awaited and President Snow stood by. He seemed much more intimidating now that you were going to have to approach him. 

The steps of the platform were steep, so you took your time going up them. You ignored the thought in the back of your brain telling you to stop stalling and to go faster, but by the time you completely shoved it away, you’d reached the top anyways. 

You nodded to the man with a smile, forced. He came before you, offering his hand to be shaken. You took it right away, scared to anger him in any capacity. There was a story you’d heard in passing about the girl from last year who refused to shake his hand. She hadn’t had a happy moment since the end of her games. 

“Congratulations, my dear. You are a worthy adversary.” 

The cold blue of his eyes burned like ice in your veins, and you swallowed back the anxiousness that built up in your throat. You kept a pleasant look on your face but in an instant, you could tell he was reading every single inch of you, and knew what you were thinking. He knew you were afraid of him, and the smirk he wore as you responded was only confirmation.

“Thank you, s-sir.” 

“You may be aware, you’ve had an effect on the people in the capitol,” he commented, turning away to take the crown of silver and pearl off of the stand beside him. If this were under different circumstances, you would have taken notice of the beautifully crafted headpiece that was made specifically to suit you. “They find you quite lovely.”

“They must have ap-pprecitated my stylist,” you tried to deflect, feeling even more the prey under a predator than before. The conversations with Finnick, the things he said you were going to be expected to do. It rushed past you, and yet… something felt stuck in your brain, because the weight didn’t hit you yet. Maybe it had something to do with the fact that as you turned, allowing him to place the crown on your head, your eyes met a pair of sea green ones, at the front of the crowd. He looked at you differently than any of these people did, or even had the capacity to. And it made you feel safe. Even in this situation of uncertainty and a path of future turmoil, he was going to be there, so you were going to be okay.

You smiled, genuinely, and for the first time since you arrived, Snow could not read you. 

“I think that they were enraptured purely by you, Mercedes.” But your face still did not change, and he didn’t know why. Why were you so completely happy? He had known for certain from watching the games that you did not win them for glory or for stature. You won them to survive, to exact vengeance. So why were you filled with joy?

“I suppose it was t-the work of my mentor,” you breathed out, never looking away from him in the crowd. He couldn’t hear a word being said, but he was smiling back at you all the same. 

“Well,” Snow turned to catch where your eyes were locked, and now he held an even bigger smirk across his face. The information gained just from a single glance was ever beneficial to a man like President Snow. He hummed when he saw the strand of eye contact, nodding to himself. He didn’t like the way you were suddenly un-bothered by him. Perhaps there was something he could say to change that. “In any case, I hope we can be friends. Perhaps do favors for one another.”

Hearing the word favors made you still for a moment, and Finnick saw it. That was when your skin crawled, and you returned to your previous state of thinking, and feeling.

Something happened, he knew… but he wouldn’t ask. He’d let you tell him. 

He just didn’t think you’d tell him so quickly. After coming off the stage, you didn’t even look at the people passing by, reaching for you and calling your name. It was all noise until you reached him. There was another venue to get to, anyway. You didn’t want to stay long in the first place. 

“You alright?” He whispered, letting you take his arm once more as you both walked through the noise and back to the vehicle. 

“I d-don’t know,” you breathed, trying to keep a neutral expression before anyone noticed. “I need to l-leave.”

“Mags,” Finnick turned to his side, where she stayed right by the both of you. “Help her to the car, I’ll find Arbin.”

“No,” you stopped in your tracks, grabbing a hold of his arm tighter. You were only now thankful for the loud ambience, covering the transparency of this dire situation. “Please, s-stay.”

Mags patted his arm, nodding her head back to the crowd as she dove back into it to retrieve the infamous Capitol rep of district four.

“I’m here,” he soothed, taking your hand and squeezing it as you kept moving to the car. There was a moment of tension when a few nosey Capitol citizens blocked the door he was trying to open. 

“The mermaid! Oh darling you are even more stunning in person,” they rambled, reaching out to touch you, as indecent as it was. The woman’s hands found your other hand, squeezing it, but not in a comforting way like the man beside you. The woman’s husband seemed to eye you up and down from the moment you stepped before them. “Isn’t she just gorgeous?” 

“Absolutely, she is!” The husband gave you a wink and your stomach turned again, the tightness in your chest was making the world spin. The moment the man placed a hand on your shoulder, you felt it ripped away, as quickly and carefully as possible. 

“She’s unfortunately leaving now,” Finnick said flippantly, stepping between them and pulling the door open, making sure they were not going to touch you again. “Thanks for coming out.”

You climbed into the backseat quickly, hearing some gasps of dramatic proportion and words of contempt for Finnick. 

When the door closed, you felt safer, but not safe. You weren’t quite able to decipher the quick change in your emotions. You thought you were fine, even with everything around you. Even with the thoughts of what you would have to endure… so what changed? Snow’s words were only those of confirmation to what you already knew was true. It didn’t change anything. 

You couldn’t meet Finnick’s eyes anymore, and you had no clue as to what would cause your aversion to him. He’s helping you, he’s protecting you. You have no reason to be afraid of facing him. 

“Mercy,” he took hold of your cheek, trying to gently convince you to look his way. “What happened?”

You shook your head. “I’m n-not sure. Snow said some t-things. But I expected it…”

He looked at you with a sadder expression, one of pity and condolences, but that’s not what bothered you. What bothered you now was the thought that he was going to see you differently from how he did before, even how he does now. 

If you were shoved into the life that he’d been forced into, would he think of you as tainted? Would he see the marks of capitol citizens and treat you as though you’re a ruined object? Surely, he couldn’t. He’s never looked at you with an ounce of contempt, not even after the arena. So then why do you feel so small and unworthy of his affectionate gaze?

“I know things w-will change,” you kept on, since he didn’t have any words to say. “I just d-don’t want others to look at m-me differently, if they find out.” 

“Merc-”

“I don’t w-want you to look at me d-differently.”

Your eyes, lids and under eye coated with a pearly glaze that had been such a struggle for you and Mags earlier… it began to run with the wetness from the bleary corners and over your cheeks. 

He let out a deep breath, his heart nearly shattering over how your bottom lip quivered with your stuttered words. He saw in you a person that would soon know exactly what it was like to be him, and he hated it. He tucked you into himself closely, holding onto the back of your head and caressing the exposed skin of your back. 

“I know this… feeling. I used to feel it. Nothing ever made it better,” he explained, and as you breathed him in, you waited. Waited for him to tell you that there was no shame in being seen differently, waited for him to say that being seen differently didn’t change the way he would talk to you, or treat you... “But I promise you, none of that could ever make me see you differently.”

You pulled back to meet his gaze, soft and unwavering. You didn’t realize how you trembled in his arms until he ran his hands down the side of your shoulders and down to your elbows. He stilled your movement and leaned his forehead against yours, breathing with you like he did all that time ago before the arena. 

“Snow has power over a lot, but he can’t change the way I feel about anyone, most of all you, Mercy.”

You smiled, the way he spoke opened a new trail of thoughts in your mind that were much more pleasant than the ones from before. How he felt about you, how did he feel about you? You assumed fondly, for the way he held you so gently… but there could be something more. Something that you never thought could be there with anyone. Your past experiences were never kind to you, but maybe this time the odds were in your favor. 

“Thank y-you,” you sniffed, the smile you’d been wearing earlier in the day finally making a reappearance. 

“Don’t thank me.” 

“I h-have to. You’re the reason t-that I’m alive at all…”

“S’just my job,” he mumbled, but you both knew it wasn’t true. He’d never saved a tribute before. He never cared this much. And now, you being brought into this world he just escaped from, he knew what he had to do. 

The scene started to return to normal when the car pulled up to the second destination. 

Time for another show, but maybe this one didn’t need to end in tears. 

“Alright,” he wiped under your eyes and readjusted your hair for you, making it look like nothing even happened. “I’ll stay close, make sure they keep their distance. You’re gonna be okay.”

You nodded, looking out the window at the anticipating guests of the large hall. It was like the crowning ceremony, but maybe a bit more rambunctious. The people, however, seemed a bit tipsy and unserious. It was a proper party, a celebration of their yearly tradition. 

“It’s not too late t-to have a good t-time, is it?” 

He let a genuine laugh escape him, and shook his head. He was still locked onto you, and a part of him didn’t even want to leave the car… but as usual, there were expectations. 

“Not at all.”

-

He walked the halls with a chill down his spine. The last time he’d had a private audience with Snow, his life changed for the worst. This time he’d hoped to feel a bit more power at the prospect that he was the one seeking Snow’s presence. Only time would tell if that feeling of power ever made itself known, because standing before the large and ornate wooden doors, knocking rapidly, it wasn’t anywhere to be found. 

The doors were opened by two house staff, and Snow awaited at his desk on the other side. 

“Come in, dear boy,” he ushered with a smile, even backed by genuine joy, it looked menacing. “Have a seat.”

He did as he was told, turning and watching as the staff left them alone together, closing the doors as they left the room. The cold air of the night was seeping in through the open window, and it took everything in him not to visibly shiver. 

“What can I do for you?” Snow offered, leaning back into his seat, that twisted, gleeful look never washing from his face. “It’s been a long time since we’ve sat down together.”

Finnick nodded, trying to keep the air light, but knowing the second he started in that it would change. He tried not to grimace in the president’s direction, lord knows he wanted to. 

“I have a few questions about the new victor,” he began, his shoulders turning slightly inwards and his posture failing him the second he mentioned you. He was terrified to be doing this. Terrified that it might backfire and you would be punished… but he wasn’t going to let what happened to him now befall you. Any means necessary. 

“If you are wondering about any favors I may ask from Miss Blythe, I’m afraid it’s none of your concern…” Snow’s voice was solid, but not harsh. He spoke forwardly, as he always did, but he was intrigued in the slightest to hear out one of his most profitable victors. “You’ve helped her win the games and usually it is customary after that happens to forget about her affairs, so I ask, dear boy… What plagues you?”

He didn’t know if he should proceed. He was in the lesser seat, with the lesser circumstances. He always has been, victor or not. How foolish of him to think he had a chance at the upper hand. No power comes to those who sit beneath the Capitol’s boot. 

He almost gave up, almost changed the subject… but then he remembered the look you’d given him just moments ago. That sweet, beautiful, shining glance you gave him, wearing a crown of silver and pearl upon your head. He will do whatever it takes to not let that gleam in your eyes be tarnished. It may have survived the hunger games, but he isn’t willing to chance putting it through years of abuse and torment. 

“I know what you plan on asking her to do,” he remembers the way he was once asked, the chill again sweeping over his neck and down his back. He remembers the day it happened, at the end of his victory tour. He remembers his dread, but he continues, anyway. “I’ve come to ask if I could take her place.”

Snow tilted his head, a sort of funny expression was worn. He looked, for lack of a better word, puzzled. It was quite hard to surprise the president.

“I see.”

There was a moment where Finnick could see the gears turning inside Snow’s mind. He was curious as to the reasoning behind it, because surely, if he thought about it for this long, he would not deny him his request? Maybe he’d been returned the upper hand after all. 

“I find it admirable, that you would do favors for me in place of another tribute. I do think, however, I may need remind you…” Snow leaned forward towards his desk, his eyes opening wider as to show his sincerity. “You are not quite as popular right now as Miss Blythe.” 

“I’ve already taken that into consideration. I understand that a mentor’s role in a victory tour is limited, but I can change that.”

Snow’s intrigue did not fall, in fact it increased.

“Do tell, Mr. Odair.”

Finnick almost felt relief. Had the cards finally been stacked in his favor? He doubts it, because he’s not asking for just your freedom, he’s only asking to bear the task of your sexual slavery himself. There’s no such thing as ‘in his favor’ when it concerns Snow.

“I’ve been known to make a spectacle of myself, as you know. Last few years I’ve reigned it in, but I think it might be time for a comeback. Finnick Odair, the mentor who promised himself a victor, and won.”

It was an engaging concept, and a true one at that. Snow thinks he must be telling the truth, but of course, he’s not just one to assume. 

“And did you?” His eyebrow raised along with his question, and Finnick got caught up in it… “Did you promise yourself Miss Blythe would win? Or just a district four tribute?” 

Finnick doesn’t have an answer to that. Originally, yes, he’d promised himself any district four tribute would become victor… and after meeting the pair from the reaping, he thought it would be Lukas… but then you spoke, stuttering and stumbling through a single sentence, and his world collapsed.

“I promised myself a victor this year, and I kept that promise. Miss Blythe just happened to be the more, as you put it, popular one.” 

Snow smirked, not smiled, smirked. He sat back into his chair again, his relaxed position led Finnick to believe that he was in agreement, and he was… but there were always going to be catches. 

“If you can somehow outshine Mercedes Blythe on her victory tour, the responsibilities you wish to take on in her stead will resume. If you do not, you must understand it is a task for the most desired of victors to obtain,” he spoke evenly, as if this were some sort of high honor that victors were clawing at one another to have a chance at. 

“I understand.”

“Good, that’s good.” There was one thing sitting at the edge of Snow’s mind, a question he was positive he knew the answer to, but wanted to hear it for himself. Words were so much more valuable to him these days. “I have one more curiosity I was hoping you could resolve.”

Finnick looked on, Snow’s position changing one last time. He leaned over the desk, holding a tight contact with Finnick’s eyeline. He was staring so ruthlessly, it didn’t even matter what Snow’s question was, he was already terrified to answer. 

“Why would you, after just a year being relieved of your obligations, take up the place of the new victor?” 

His stomach turned. There was no right answer here. If he lies, he looks indifferent. If he tells the truth, he’s given Snow information he shouldn’t have.

“I don’t think she can handle what’s expected of her,” he tried to mix the truth and lies. It wasn’t false, but it certainly wasn’t his primary reasoning. Snow knew it immediately.

“Mr. Odair, we’ve been friends a long time, you need not hide the truth from me… so I ask once more, why have you come to make this deal on behalf of Miss Blythe?” 

“I want to protect her,” was his next attempt, but still not the answer Snow was looking for. The old man felt the boy was trying his patience, and he wouldn’t be satisfied until he heard what he’d been after. 

“Why?”

Finnick looked at the man’s eyes, cold and discomforting, despite the soft smoothness of his voice and tone. He knew that Snow already had the information Finnick tried to keep from him. He knew that there was no use in hiding it, and the only thing Snow wanted was to hear it aloud. Finnick wanted to leave this room, to get back to the celebration and see your gleaming smile again. He wanted to be in your presence and remind himself again why he was doing this. Even now, as he answers Snow by saying the words, he’s reminded. 

“Because I love her.” 

And Snow smiles again, the devious look and raise of his brow gives him away when he chuckles under his breath. 

“Yes, I know you do.”

-

tags(open): @thepassionatereader @i-voluntears @secretsicanthideanymore @mystargirl-interlude @c4ttheart @lilibrn @emma-andrea1 @marvelescvpe

[grapejuicestyless]

i have had this idea for so long, but i really think you could do this justice. sort of like the film the holiday!!! but not really set in Christmas and more so through the seasons. harry moves out of the city (doesn’t need to be a singer and could just be a CEO) into a small village in a lovely cottage where all of the furniture is mismatched and there’s sash windows which are always open. He’s there for a few months before he starts to feel lonely so decides to bring in a lodger! He hand makes posters and puts them on the village hall board and … he finally gets a taker! It’s a quirky girl who is totally all over the place and she moves in .. the seasons change and so does their relationship.. friends to lovers OR ACTUALLY maybe it could be so interesting for it to be enemies to lovers! That could be fun to write. But idk I’ve been thinking about it for so long !!! They could organise a dinner party for friends one night or maybe Harry goes away to the city for a meeting and that’s where y/n realises how much she misses him / likes him. Definitely has to be fluffy but also needs to have some drama. I haven’t figured that out yet 😭😭😭 I’m so sorry for this really long rambly post but I wanted to give u as much of my brain as possible lol. I would LOVE LOVE LOVE to see what you would do with this / if it’s something you’re even interested in. Have a gorgeous evening / day / morning xxx love you!!💖💖💖💖💖

Bad People

Harry Styles x fem!reader

Summery: Harry and Y/n met by pure luck. Sharing secrets and laughing like little kids, ribs and cheeks hurting. Y/n is sure Harry is destined to be in her life forever. She’s just not sure when that became a bad thing.

FLANGST/FRIENDS TO ENEMIES TO LOVERS

The pale blue sky looked gray from certain windows. The glass was cracked and the stove stained with boiled over soup broth and old sprinklings of spices.

The birds sang solemnly, humming the tune to what I believed sounded like something you’d hear at a funeral. Here, the pavement was cracked and the stars were consistently covered with clouds. Snow, more often than not, fell heavily. From October to April. The nearby ocean nearly always too cold to swim in. The backyard pool cold and clean, still with nobody to inhabit it.

All the beauty ripped from the earth, and replaced with another kind of it. I wouldn’t mind it half as much, if I had someone to enjoy the snow with. To enjoy the polar plunges, the visible breath and numb fingers.

Like old times sake, snowmen and snowball fights. Sledding or fort making. Rosy cheeks and icy hair a memory of the past. Cheeks hurting from smiles, not the winter chill.

The laughter of my mother was long gone, and my brother outgrew his desire for a sibling as soon as he turned sixteen. Few friends, not any at least, that would enjoy the activities the white powder offered.

So now, I look out the window, nursing a glass of wine propped up on the windowsill. I don’t see the snow day ahead or pray for a white Christmas. I pray that one day, I’ll find someone to enjoy it with me. To soothe the pain little eight year old me suffered with the absence of her father, her distant mother and her selfish brother.

“Looking at it won’t make it fall any faster, Y/n.” The puff of air coming from my nose fogs up to cool glass, and my fingers leave prints along the center.

He’s not looking at me, he rarely does when we aren’t fighting. It’s like I disgust him. I feel like a fool every god damn time.

“Have you always naturally been an asshole or did you grow into it?” I don’t look at him, but I feel his gaze settle on my reflection in the glass. His voice alone urges me to take a large drink from the wine glass. The ruby red staining my top lip. I spread it around and taste the bitterness of it on my tongue.

He begins to leave, almost succeeding without a passing glance, but biting his tongue is something Harry nor I have ever been able to do. So it’s natural how he goes for the last word.

“Theres only so much wine, Y/n.” He teases. I down the rest while he walks away. The sigh that leaves my mouth after I feel the ghost of him leaving me isn’t only for air, but because suddenly the room feels lighter.

It’s funny, how someone so special can leave such a disgusting taste in your mouth. Hatred doesn’t just happen. It creeps, seeps, saturates. It’s a pesky little thing that starts small until finally you can’t ignore how bothered you are. It’s vile and cruel. A poisonous little thing that no one is immune to. It’s a sad yet funny thing. To remember that it wasn’t always like this. I didn’t always hate my old friend, bounded to me through the home we share. I once enjoyed the company of Harry styles.

It was nearly a year since I’d moved in. A year since the snow turned to thick ice and roads became bare with people too afraid to try and navigate through the harsh winter.

Nearly a year since I first saw the house at the end of the road, with a neat front lawn and a tree with hanging branches ready to snap.

A red scarf and red mittens is what I wore. With a faded brown coat and worn blue jeans. A hat on top of my head and a journal tucked underneath my arm. He had the greenest eyes I had ever seen. The stars in the night sky didn’t quite shine as bright as his eyes, I swore it to myself.

He had an english accent, one that I wasn’t familiar with. Peach fuzz and dark chocolate curls a mess on his head. When I told him my job, he laughed, but something about his shocked expression after told me he didn’t mean it cruelly. Rather, that he was shocked, or just piecing the puzzle together.

“I’m my mother’s daughter.” I told him, “She always had a thing for poetry. The sappy ones with the tragic endings. I got it from her and I’m damn good at it.” I smiled at him then, and he smiled back bigger.

“It’s just funny. Moving somewhere so quiet for a job all about fantasy and adventure.” He explained, already guiding the two of us through the wide doorway. I set my boots in the old entryway which it seemed he had turned into a mud room. I admired the shade of green on the wall and nodded along. My cheeks hurt from smiling.

That night, while settling into my new space, I shared with him my life. My goals and dreams. With his toothy smile and boyish eyes, he made it so easy to trust him. I sat on my newly made bed and he sat in my spinning chair by my desk. Moving it back and forth, swaying slowly. A cigarette started dangling from his pocket, I still remember the way he took it between his thumb and his index finger. Rolling it around, debating whether or not to light it. It was like he didn’t know he had it.

“I didn’t take you for a smoker.” I laughed at him, he laughed back. Shy almost, only looking at me for a moment.

“M’not. A few here and there. Helps to wind down.” When he ran his hand through his hair, I remember seeing all his rings. A rose and two with his initials. One looked like a lion. That one was my favorite.

Other than his charming smile and infectious laughter, I knew nothing of him, I had come to realize. Here he was, knowing about my family and friends. My job and my hobbies. All I had asked him was his name.

When I asked him, he was just as talkative as I was. A sparkle in his eyes when he talked about his job. I remember specifically, how they lit up extra bright when he mentioned his mother, Anne, and his older sister, Gemma. I learned about his job too. Harry had everything he could ever truly want. The money, the power, the glory. His office at the top floor overlooking the bustling city that never sleeps. Families dancing around the square and traffic backed up into the city line.

The sad thing was, that even with all this pride he got to carry with his reputation, the city was no home to him. The summer held no comfort. Not the same now that he was long out of school. The heat was simply uncomfortable. His lavish suit sticking to his skin. Even the air conditioner couldn’t soothe the pounding of his head against the strong New York heat.

His nose stung in the summer. The warmer it got, the worse it smelled. Garbage littering the streets no longer covered by thick snow. Tourists and their children filling up all his favorite places of relaxation. Each carrying their own scent from home. The calming pine from the North or the tangy citrus of the west coast.

Harry felt no true love for his home anymore. No real attachment. There was no smell of home, and there certainly wasn’t any old faces with their gravelly voices and thick accents. If it weren’t for the business there, he would’ve fled somewhere else long ago. Somewhere quieter. Somewhere that felt like home. If he could, he would have tucked himself back into the small home his mother raised him and his sister in. He would’ve curled up happily in his twin bed and looked out the same crooked window each night and feel happy with only that.

He tells me that when he got in the car waiting for him at the airport, he was tempted to tell the driver to take him home, to see if it would make him smile. He’d seen the gag used in all the old rom-coms he and his mother used to watch. The short blonde running from the love of her life only to be led back into his arms. But Harry know’s better. He tells me so. So when the driver asks him where to, he tells him the address.

He told me about his work life. How there was a branch out in the UK. The one that started it all. And as his success grew, so did his aspirations and his needs. London no longer provided him with the luxury and opportunity that New York could. So he swapped out his office for a penthouse and acted like the smell of burning garbage and mysterious wet spots on the sidewalks didn’t bother him.

It’s a vicious cycle. To outgrow, to long for, to move, to hate all over again. Thats how he decided that London has just what he needed. His business within reach and smaller towns surrounding its borders.

“And what about now? Are you happy?” Harry crinkled his eyes then, smiling a nodding along. He didn’t even mind it then, when I would interrupt. In fact, he welcomed it. Claimed he loved hearing me talk.

I agreed with him when he said that the grass is greener down here. The stars are just that much brighter and theres not a single car honking their horn past nine. All things that left him feeling a whole lot calmer than the chaos of the city.

Here, Harry told me he didn’t mind not living in a lavish penthouse just a few blocks away from his work. Here, he was hours away from the city. He stays in a medium sized cape cod styled house, pre-decorated from the past owners who didn’t care to take their things when they left for something bigger. It sticks out from the rest of the homes nearby. He wonders how something so different ended up within the same area. And he smiled and sat on the floor when I laughed and told him he’d already lived quite the life for a nearly-thirty year old man.

When silence took over after over an hour long conversation, I bit at my nails and looked at the floor. Suddenly, it came to me.

“Harry?” I had asked. He hummed, looking at me. Even if I hadn’t looked back, I could still feel his eyes on mine. “What made you want a roommate?” When my eyes flickered up to his, I saw no hate, or disgust, or shame. Nothing that I am familiar with now in Harry’s eyes. I saw curiosity, warmth and happiness.

“I like the quiet. I like being able to sleep without someone yelling down the hallway. I like how green it is over here.” I nodded, waiting for him to continue. “But the quiet get’s lonely. And while I like the quiet, I hate being alone.” And it made me smile back then. Maybe it still does thinking about it know. He had been helping me in finding a home, some place warm to stay. Meanwhile, I had been able to give back. Give him what he wanted. At the time, my heart warmed.

For a long time after that, Harry made my heart beat fiercely. He brought me flowers and made us pancakes. Freshly picked blueberries from the local market. He cracked jokes and I repeated them back between our broken laughter, imitating his english accent.

He was a charming man, with an energy that invited and kept you drawn to him. Everyone wanted to be around Harry. The men and the women. Always wanting a piece of the pie. I felt rich in life, that while others had to work for a lifelong friendship with him, naturally, we fit together. We worked.

He entered my life by some kind of coincidence. I needed a place to stay and he was offering a room up.

When he brushed his thumb over my knuckles and kissed the skin, I believed we would be like this forever. Just the two of us.

When he whispered to me that he loved me that same night, I thought it was something he would never take back. Something that would never change. His warm breath and glistening eyes. He was red and shiny. A bottle of the cheap champagne sat on the table and an empty glass beside him. I let his lips trail around my hand and laugh at his antics.

“Harry.” I mumbled into the darkness, he doesn’t move. I silently giggle again after he puffs air out of his own nose onto my hand playfully. His shoulders shake with his own fits of laughter, “Harry.” I call out again, and my eyes are met with his dazzling emerald ones. I almost got lost, forgot how to talk looking at him.

My palms were sweaty with nervousness then. My heart beating out of my chest. I wanted more than anything to tell him everything. As a poet, it should have been easy to put my thoughts out in the open air. But they hadn’t sat within me for long enough to curate a straight forward answer.

How would I even manage to start on how beautiful I thought his brown hair was? Perfectly colored like milk chocolate treats that curled over his forehead. Or his toothy grin which pulled butterflies from the pit of my stomach and made me feel lighter? I couldn’t find just one thing to focus on. And the words that came out of my mouth tumbled out quickly.

“You’re my best friend.” I hoped that he would’ve been able to see how much love I held for him in my face. How even in the dim lighting of only the fireplace and the fading lamp in the corner, he could see how they sparkled just for him.

He pulled his hand away after that, clearing his throat and nodding. But he smiled so softly after that I didn’t see how his eyes welled up with tears. I only saw his perfectly pink lips and his rosy cheeks. For once, I wasn’t focused on his eyes, and I paid the price.

He never made pancakes for us after that night. Nor did he ever pick flowers from the fields or crack jokes until our stomachs hurt. My hand was never slotted between his and my head didn’t rest on top of his shoulders. He was colder, more distant. Quiet.

But the quiet grew old for us both. And the slipping away hurt more than anything I’d ever experienced. I was everyone else in his life. Fighting for a spot in the light so he would see me, smile at me, acknowledge me.

Part of me wondered why he never asked me to leave. To pack my bags and find another innocent man to love because he wouldn’t tolerate it anymore. But he never did. Harry hated being alone and I knew better than anyone else. I knew it because I was his best friend at some point. We shared the same breaths and drank from the same glasses. I wore his shirts and he used my hair clips. He kept me around not because he still wanted me, but because he still needed me. And the realization of it all hurts worse than the silence because it’s then I know that I’ve really lost him. It leaves me with the question, ‘What have I done to deserve this?’

I think back on that night when our world shifted on its axis and I go over every word that was said. I check for any signs of discomfort or anger and I find nothing. It plagues me with a new insecurity.

Maybe it wasn’t something I’d said, maybe it wasn’t something I’d done. Maybe the warmth from the champagne grew cold in his blood and the false euphoria from it all cleared from his peripheral vision and he realized that I was no longer enough. I was not what he wanted. The idea of his roommate becoming his only friend too pathetic for a man with such power.

Soon after, I stop putting up a fight. I stop fighting for a spot in his life and I stop trying to win back a man that was never mine. I figured at least if he could never be mine and I would never be his, at least I still got to see his pretty face everyday. And I could imagine that we never drifted.

I wake in the night, I pace like a ghost. The tears running down my cheeks are hot, burning my skin until my throat dully aches and my chest is red with flakes of nail polish and the dragging of my nails clawing at my chest.

I am sobbing, broken and tired. I dream of a life that is not as miserable. I dream of a life where I no longer doubt the things I love. Where I don’t have to question my friend’s loyalty.

He knocks on my door, leaning against it in only his flannel pants. He has tattoos that compliment his skin so well. He looks like a painting. I’m relieved to see him again. Even if it’s under these circumstances.

I wait for him to speak, even if it’s merely a mumble. Even if I cannot understand.

“Can you stop crying? I can’t sleep.” He requests. My lips part and I swear my lungs collapse within my chest. I can’t breathe and somehow I remain composed.

“Okay.” I say quietly, nodding along and trying to find his eyes. They look at the floor, and his face is contorted like it pained him to say that to me. Like it was against his will. But he doesn’t even look at me.

When he leaves, I collapse, shoulder shaking with rage, sadness, confusion instead of the contagious laughter that once rang out through the halls.

I decide then, July moon shining through the sash windows of my room that I couldn’t continue holding onto Harry. My heart still beats for him and my eyes still sparkled when his own lingered for just a moment longer on me, but I couldn’t like him.

Hatred doesn’t just happen. It creeps, seeps, saturates. It’s a pesky little thing that starts small until finally you can’t ignore how bothered you are. It’s vile and cruel. A poisonous little thing that no one is immune to. It’s a sad yet funny thing.

After that night, his selfish wishes turn to bitter comments which turn to vicious attacks at my confidence. And my resilience and devotion to silence, to ignore the cruelty of it all is worn thin. My bitten tongue is freed and I am betrayed by my own words. My own comments targeted at his deepest hurts. It’s a mutual hate between us, a mutual dislike.

We live within the same four walls, the same windows and creaky roof over our heads. We cook in the same kitchen and we sit on the same couch, but we cannot stand each other anymore. The house is no longer filled with love, and the warm heat turns to bitter cold. And yet, neither of us have the guts to leave.

We sit here, in a life thats so mean to us just because we are afraid of the loneliness that is surely to come with the other’s absence.

We are here, but we aren’t present. It makes me laugh, it makes me wonder.

Who could ever leave me? But who could stay?

The candles burned down to the floor, wax melting over the wood as the lights set a warm, homely mood for the night. The late December rush throughout the town turned to the few and far between searching for last minute supplies to ring in the new year. It’s peacefully still outside, and the dining room looks so nice I forget why the candles burn and our nicest plates are set out.

Harry insisted on having a small gathering with some of our friends to celebrate the new year before he went away for sometime for work. Being roommates, despite our lack of interest in establishing our own friendship, his friends become my friends and mine become his. It’s a fairly large group that was once two. But have now become so closely intertwined that it seems hard to differentiate who was friends with who first.

There was wine, pastas and breads. Hams and potatoes. Drinks and endless desserts. It felt nice, to have all those people we cared so deeply about chip in and help to create such a lovely meal for the few of us.

Hearing that first doorbell ring to see all of our friends stood proudly on our crooked doorstep made my heart flutter. Sarah, Mitch, Pauli, Elin, Charlotte, Nyoh. All holding various foods to add to the never ending supply on the multiple tables set in a row.

“Harry! Y/n!” The enthusiasm from our friends seemed to lighten the mood, letting the heavy feeling of heated arguments and constant anger slip down my back and into the farthest part of my brain.

It was times like these where I’d forget how to hate. How to spread anger and disgust to someone who clearly showed none of it in return in these times. Here, Harry was talkative. Always plastering on a fake smile and wave.

He was good at pretending. And while the walls of the house had seen a different story, those around us were innocent, forever unknowing of how Harry constantly belittled me, bothered me. Of how I was no better. How my tongue was sharp and my words shot to kill.

Nobody minded the difference in height of the dinning room table against the kitchen table. How one was round and the other a rectangle. Both covered by one long table cloth. Nobody minded the soft music in the background or how the light wasn’t the brightest. The soft flickers never mentioned.

We let the candles burn until they had nothing left to give, and we ate until it was bare and our stomachs hurt. Here, I never felt like I was trapped. Here, I remembered why I came to live with Harry in the first place. And I was thankful. It was times like these I couldn’t help smiling like an idiot. Cheeks sore and eyes crinkling. I would laugh at just about anything, trust anyone and agree with everything.

“When are you going to tell him?” An elbow to the ribs pulled my gaze from the end of the table, my smile dropping for only a moment at the sudden shock.

“Sorry?” I mumbled softly into Sarah’s ear. Her eyes glimmered with something mischievous, like she knew something that I didn’t. She licked her pink lips and looked briefly back to the end of the table. All the way over by the dining table, sat a few feet away and a couple inches higher, was Harry. Laughing and talking with Pauli and Elin about anything and everything. I couldn’t quite make it out over the soft chatter of Mitch and Charlotte and the clinking of forks on plates.

“Harry!” She called softly. When my eyebrows furrowed she rolled her eyes, sighing heavily.

“I don’t get it.” Forking another bite of vegetables into my mouth, I watched her fight for the right words to say. Her lips finally settling on the soft smile I knew very well.

“Don’t play dumb, Y/n. I know that look. Better than anyone. Thats how I look at Mitch.” She playfully nudged my shoulder. Did she believe that I held any romantic feelings for Harry? I couldn’t, it was impossible. Right?

His rude remarks and his mean demeanor. Sure, at one point my heart beat for the brunette with an infectious smile and shiny green eyes, but now it was a memory of the past. Another pretty face who had thrown away all of his charm and care and exchanged with unwavering cruelty.

“Oh, no. Sarah, I don’t think about him that way.” I tried to wave her off, trying to sound the least amount disgusted by her assumption. I couldn’t help but wonder why she thought that.

“I don’t believe you.” She sounded smug, crossing her hands on my thigh and giggling. “You don’t have to. I believe myself.” Brushing her off, I take another bite of any remaining scraps on my plate. Trying to avoid conversation.

“Come on, you seriously don’t see it?” She sounded exasperated now, even more so when I nodded carelessly. She was getting tired of my avoidance to the conversation, my disinterest in her false discovery. Still, the longer she pushed, the more I felt the heat rush to my face. The more my cheeks burned and my skin tingled.

“I’m serious, Sarah. I don’t look at him in anyway. He’s just my roommate. Nothing more, nothing less.” I lean back, volume brought down to a mere whisper with the dying laugher at the other end of the table.

“Well, he’s your friend at least, right?” The lump in my throat was unswallowable. With the growing tightness in my throat and the clamminess of my palms. I wanted nothing more than to slip away and pretend this never happened. So, I bite my tongue and nod, eyes flickering to Sarah while I do so. I pray that she doesn’t see the tears welling in the corners and how glossy they’ve gotten in such a short period of time.

“Yeah, he’s my best friend.” The lie stings, burning as it comes out. Partially because I hate lying to my dear Sarah, but mainly because at some point it was the truth.

Harry was my everything at one point in my life. He might as well have hung the damn moon and stars. I thought the world of him, wanted nothing more than to feel his arms wrapped around mine all the damn time. And it killed me that we’d gotten so far away from that idea that I had to lie about even being acquainted with him.

“Word of advice.” She started, eyeing Harry carefully. My eyes remained glued to the table, fork wobbling between my pointer finger and my thumb. “Best friends don’t look at each other that way.” And when she finished what she wanted to say, I swear my heart just about stopped. All color draining from my face and my eyes rapidly blinking away the tears by now.

Setting my fork down, I ignore her playful smile and the nudge of her shoulder into mine. I look for another face to converse with, to make me begin to forget everything I was trying so desperately to escape. When I search the table, it seems like each person has found themselves in deep conversation with the other. All but one.

And his green eyes capture mine in a way I haven’t known in so long. I’d forgotten what it was like to be the center of his gaze. How thrilling it was. With my eyes, glossed over and heart beating through my chest, it seemed impossible for me to ever consider looking away. His chocolate brown curls and sweet pink lips in a gentle smile. It was consuming and alluring. Irresistible even.

A face that once disgusted me, shattered my heart, angered me and knocked me down with no air left to breathe seemed not all that frightening anymore. And the warmth that spread in my chest scared me more than anything.

I begin to realize, maybe Sarah was right. Maybe that was why I hated him so much. I didn’t hate Harry Styles. And thats why it hurt just that much more. I didn’t hate him at all, in fact. No, rather my poor heart couldn’t handle the heartbreak and deflected in the most malicious way possible. I missed my best friend.

“Y/n.” Sarahs voice pulls me from my haze, and my eyes are flickering over to hers quickly. Lips still parted and eyes still wide.

“You’re crying.” I hadn’t felt the salty heat dripping down my cheeks until she announced it. My skin too numb from embarrassment to even understand what was happening.

My tongue is tied, and my throat is killing me. I feel like I might vomit if I stay here any longer. I can’t be here any longer, I can’t do it. Not when I’ve just realized what I did. I feel what I felt all those months ago when Harry told me to stop crying. When he shut me out for good and became bitter. I feel all air leave my lungs and my knees wobbling. I am going to collapse.

“I just need air.” I say all too loudly, pushing out the chair clumsily and stepping back. The loud scratch of the wooden legs of the wooden floors turns heads and my heavy breathing tells me to get the hell out.

I pardon myself after that, waving off any concern from Sarah, and making sure nobody else saw my escape. Everyone’s still deep into conversation when I turn the corner. All but Sarah and Harry. But neither of them make a move to reach me. I let myself collapse on my bed, mascara running down my white sheets and back aching from how stiff I became at that table. I silently pray that I’ll sleep through the rest of winter.

When the dinner got cold and we’d all run out of things to say, we all look around and silently agree to part ways. It was nice to have some company, I enjoyed being around these people so much. My heart should have been full, yet it felt heavy and empty all at the same time. Littered with a guilt I wasn’t even sure was mine.

I’d seen the way she looked at me. Really looked at me. Glossed over eyes and a quivering lip. She was red with the rush of adrenaline in her blood. Anyone could see how quickly she began to breathe. It was like she was stuck, consumed by something so strong that it left her powerless, weak, crumbling quickly under an undetermined pressure. She started to cry, biting back a sob by biting harshly into her bottom lip, eyes shaking while she searched my face. I couldn’t help but wonder what had happened. Who had said what, and how I could help her.

I wanted to yell at whoever hurt her this bad. And the feeling of that in itself was unsettling. How my heart still longed to comfort, protect the heart of the girl who once shattered my own with her own words. More than that, I wanted to scream when nobody followed her when she ran. How nobody cared nearly enough about why she was so upset.

I couldn’t understand why I was so invested in her. Someone I was sworn to hate. Someone I had teased and fought for months and let hurt me constantly in retaliation.

But then again, we were no better than one another. We never were. Always saying too little and not opening up quite enough. Creating issues instead of solving problems. We were explosive, nobody could hurt me quite like she could and yet, I felt horrible that she was so upset.

Like the day I’d found her pacing restlessly across the floor. Skin blotchy and eyes puffy with tears. Throat sore with the violent sobs ripping through them. I’d wanted to hold her then too, but I was too bitter to do anything but tell her to quiet down. I felt the same guilt in my bones. And I make the same mistakes I made the first time. I watch her break down and sit with the uneasiness of it all.

Mitch lays a hand over my shoulder, his other arm wrapped around Sarah as he leads her through the door. His eyes look sad and tired. But his smile is genuine and filled with concern.

“Check on Y/n for us okay? Sarah thought it would be best to leave her be for now.” His hand left my shoulder and the door shut quickly after. Leaving me with the unbearable silence and loneliness I felt so frequently nowadays. It breaks down my walls and scares the shit out of me.

Maybe thats why I make my way to the kitchen, shuffling slowly along the floors and leaning slowly over the makeshift tables. A bottle of rouge in one hand, a pack of cigarettes in the other. I stuff them in my pocket and hold the bottle close to my side.

I’m slow, delaying the inevitable question. When I knock on the door, it’s quiet. Almost like I’m hoping that if it’s soft enough, she won’t hear and I can pretend she was ignoring me. But, she does hear me, and she calls out a raspy, muffled welcome, signaling for whoever was hidden behind the door to come through and take in her puffy eyes and wet cheeks.

My throat tightens when I smell her perfume. Something that I would have drowned in not so long ago. She has clothes thrown on a chair in the corner, the same one I sat in so many months ago. I’m tempted to push them off and just sit in the silence with her like we once enjoyed doing.

Her head is in her pillow and her arms are underneath her. She is unaware of who she has let in, but her silence and unmoving body tells me she’s lost all ability to care. I want to leave. I want to turn around and convince myself it was all a mistake. I’d checked on her and she was still alive and well. I’d done my part and I could go on guilt free and forget about how crushed she’d looked just hours before.

When I begin to turn on my heels and pray for this day to be over, I see something unforgettable. A small Polaroid from last year. Just weeks after she’d moved in and charmed me with her beauty and whit. She’s sat with her legs over my lap and my arms around her body. We couldn’t be any happier, and the memory makes my chest sting.

She still cared enough to keep up the old memories of us, even after all the fights and mean glares. Why did she have to keep the damn photo up?

Guilt consumes me once again, and I am faced with the sad woman in front of me, still in the same place as before and just as sad as before. My feet betray my mind, and soon I am stood beside her bedside table with a bottle of wine dangling between my pointer finger and my middle finger.

The glass knocks against her shoulder in a silent invitation. My eyes wordlessly asking her to follow. Her eyes are red, and her lips still shake. She looks completely torn apart, desperate and distraught. Disheveled even. But for some reason in my blurry head, all I can think about is how absolutely beautiful she is in the pale moonlight.

“Come on.” I ask her softly, offering her my hand. When she takes it, she’s nodding already. Trusting a man who deserves no second chances, no trust whatsoever for his cruelty and his inability to communicate. But she follows regardless.

I can’t help but realize how having her so close feels good.

He lights the cigarette for me and watches as I let it burn. My lips twitch as they wrap around the end, tasting the bitterness of its contents and the dry paper.

“How did we end up here?” I ask him, looking over the horizon. The waves are calming over here. They almost silence the ringing in my ears, despite the distance between where we sit, feet dangling over the empty pool edge and the large grass behind it.

He shrugs, snagging the cigarette from my hand delicately and taking a long drag from its end. We swap, my hands wrap around the neck of the wine bottle. It’s tinted green and nearly full.

“Unlucky people, I guess.” He looks at his feet. They dangle in the pool beside mine. You can see just how close we are in the turquoise tint. How the lights make us look less vibrant.

“I wouldn’t consider us unlucky.” I look at the sky, and I can feel his eyes on my face. It makes me swallow, how intense his gaze is. It almost makes it feel that much more real.

“Why’s that?” He asks, twisting the bud out on the cement. It stains the freshly cleaned grey stone an ashy black, but I bite my tongue.

“We had each other. Maybe we aren’t the best people, maybe we’re cruel, but I’d rather argue than live in solitude, right? Company can’t be bought. Even the most painful of it. That’s something real. Something without a price. And we’ve got it.” And it’s true. We fight and we throw shit. We stain the walls and rip the curtains. We start fires and try to blame the other. We make a mess and make amends. But a house isn’t a home without someone to share it with. And at least if we had to suffer to get there, we got it.

“Thats some of your poet shit.” He laughs sadly into the silence, looking at his feet. I laugh along, though I can tell he was only half joking. Then, I let the silence wash back over us. Forgetting how we almost had a full conversation.

“I’m not a bad person. I don’t know why I’m so mean.” He says sincerely. It’s sudden too. I can tell from the rawness in his voice. How his eyes tear up and his lips quiver. His voice cracks. Our feet hang off the edge of the backyard. It’s a quiet life. Even now. With our fights and all the fraud. But it’s never a lonely life, and we only have each other to thank for it.

I want to tell him I know, and I’m so sure of it. I’ve seen the real him, we might just not mesh together. But we once had, and that fact alone holds me back. He takes the lack of response and an opportunity to excuse himself. Pulling his body up by the arms and grunting through the sliding back door. I sit alone in the backyard for hours, body curling up into itself and layers of clothing becoming less than enough after some more time.

“I know.” I whisper into the silence. I know he’s not a bad person, I know it so well and I am so certain of it. I knew Harry once. He’s loyal and kind and the smartest man I’d ever met. And I miss knowing him like that so much.

I thought for a second tonight, I’d gotten part of him back. And maybe I had, but he left so soon I couldn’t really tell all that well. He’s left me back in the silence, wondering what happened to us, and what will happen to us. Why he came to get me, and why he even bothered to open up to me. But he never gives me the time to properly ask, even if I planned to.

I ring in the New Year alone.

The next morning he’s gone. Back to New York for his business in the big city and I am left to sit and think about what was said. A half empty bottle of wine stained with my red lipstick and glitter on the floor from old party poppers Charlotte and Elin had made sure to use before making their exit. I repeat his words.

He’s not a bad person, so why is he so mean? It’s best left unknown. Because if theres one thing I fear more than anything, it’s the realization of rejection.

Even from a man I hate so entirely, it consumes me. That I could not stand to be faced with the fact that Harry and I do not get along simply because we do not work and not because of some other underlying reason.

After all, we had it all. Gave each other everything the other had wanted. Food, shelter, company. There was really so explanation for the bitterness between us.

After all, all this time, despite his anger and hatred, he never left me to the wolves. And despite my heartbreak and sadness, I never left him with an empty home.

A wise man once said to never bite the hand that feeds it. Yet, here we are. Ripping skin from bone until we are left with nothing. We are the ungrateful, the selfish, the cruel. And we both believe that we are in the right.

I am so scared of rejection from this man who I claim to hate because he is the hand that feeds me and I am the hand to him.

We aren’t bad people, so why are we so mean? We recognize all we have to be grateful for, so why do we bite the hand that feeds us?

I guess the vulnerability of it all must have scared us. And while facing the storm, we did what all people do. We let fear consume us and we bite.

Somehow, through all of this. The realizations and the tears and wine and dusty ashes, I love him. Even with my teeth sinking into his skin and his own in mine, drawing blood, I love him. I love Harry Styles. He is my best friend and I am his. That is why I am scared and that is why it hurts so bad. Not because I simply missed him, but rather because my heart was devoted to a man who did not want it.

My fingers fumble over the pad on the phone. I type up his phone number by heart and let it ring. He answers quickly, still waiting for his plane at the airport.

“Y/n?” I can hear the bustling crowds around him and the loud engines taking off from other terminals. I imagine he is plugging one of his ears and mentally cursing the noise for making it so hard to hear.

“Come home.” My breathing is unstable, and my hands run through my hair so much I create new tangles by my neck.

“What? No, Y/n, I have to go. People are expecting me.” He starts to explain how important this is for his business. How it would be so much simpler to be there rather than over a computer screen.

“Fuck them, who cares! Harry, I need you, and I want you, please just listen to me for once. Don’t scoff, or…or roll your eyes or leave! Listen to me this once and if it’s not worth it to you, I promise you’ll never have to listen to me again. Please, it’s important.” I ramble all in one breath, endless pleas met with silence. I can feel the rejection coming, I can hear the way he chokes on a breath, debating what I said.

“Okay.” The phone goes dead with his promise to come home. With the continuous beeps, I slowly come to terms with what I’d just done. But I do not feel panicked, or scared. I feel lighter with the fact that I am about to tell the moody boy something I wished I told him a long time ago.

The door opens with a creak, keys jingling in his large palms. I’d spent the morning pacing the kitchen. Leaving a trail of confetti behind in my wake. I hadn’t cared enough to clean with my endless thoughts and extreme amounts of adrenaline.

“Y/n?” His voice was unsure when it rang out. As if he didn’t know what to expect. The door shut behind him not long before I came rushing around the corner, fingernails bitten to the skin and hangnails bleeding profusely.

“God, Y/n what the hell…” Taking my hands into his, he examined the redness of my irritated skin stained further with dry blood.

“I know.” I looked at him, and he looked back at me like I was crazy.

“What?” His thumbs bent over the backs of my palms, holding me in front of him.

“I know.” I breathed out again, looking at him with such sincerity, praying for him to understand. “You’re not a bad person, and I know it because I know you. Because we fight and we tease and we scream and cry. But I know you because once we didn’t do all of that. And I needed you to know that because it wasn’t fair of me to make you believe that to be true after everything you’ve done for me.” My voice shook with how vulnerable I felt myself becoming. Harry’s hands only tightened the further I explained.

“But what about all I’ve done to you. Y/n, I’ve been awful to you and I never even told you why.” He tried to argue. I shook my head, biting my lips.

“I haven’t been much better.” I smiled sadly. He shook his head back.

“No.”

“Yes.” I blinked hard, pushing back the tears that formed watching his own gather by his waterline.

“No, Y/n, I’ve been horrible. I’ve been mean.” He tried to push away everything I was trying to ignore.

“And so have I.” I tried harder to make him understand.

“But you only did it because I had. And for what?” He finally spoke, voice raised with so much desperation behind it, I froze under his touch.

“Because I loved you so much it drove me fucking insane? Because I still love you and I’m afraid if I can’t get you to hate me I’ll never be able to stop.” He was crying now, pleading with me to make me see his side of things. All I could do was shake my head.

“Harry I could never hate you.”

“But you could never love me.” He argued.

“Thats not true, Harry tell me you know that it couldn’t be true.” I rip my hands from his grip to rest them on his cheeks. I try to wipe away his tears, but his hands cover my wrists and pull them back down.

“How could I? You said it yourself. All those months ago, I told you. I held you close and I told you I loved you. You told me I was your best friend. You couldn’t even pretend!” Neither of us could tell if he was angry or just sad. Maybe both, but no amount of denial would calm him down.

“I didn’t have to, I still don’t have to pretend! Harry, I only said that because I was so fucking scared. Scared of us, of me, of you. Of losing you if it didn’t work. And I lost you anyways, I would’ve just said it if I knew I’d lose you like this.” Our chests bumped and his fingers slipped between mine.

“Y/n.” He whispered into the silence, over our heavy breathing and salty tears.

“I love you, and I miss you.” He didn’t say anything. I could feel him slipping away as soon as his response never came. Not a single word left to say between us. Not a single amount of energy left to fight.

And then he was kissing me. Hard and sweet. Like I was everything he’d ever wanted and more. Like he was hungry, needing more and more of something he had always wanted but could never have. And at the same time, it was soft and tender. Like he never wanted it to end. My back arched within the grip of his wandering hands and my fingers tangling in his curls. I swore I would never let him go.

But it was a swear I couldn’t keep, because air dwindled quickly and spit strung between our lips. Something I would usually gag at, but didn’t mind at the moment. His forehead against mine and arms gripping the fabric by my hips so tight if I moved he could have ripped it.

“I’m sorry.” He apologized in between his heaving breaths.

“Me too.” Looking at him, I could see the red staining his lips from the makeup I’d slept in. It made me laugh, which in result made him smile.

“What? What!” He laughed along cluelessly, letting me back away for a moment.

“You have something-“ I pointed again his mouth and smiled.

“Oh do I? Do I?” He kissed my cheek, smearing the remnants of our kiss across my cheek. “Still there?” He asked with a sly grin. Like he knew he was winning.

So I kissed him hard again, smearing red around his skin and his pink lips with so much love, there was no denying my feelings anymore. There was no hate left to give.

“Yeah, you do.” It was yet another fight, but not one I minded.

After all, thats what we did for so long, it was what we were good at. The teasing and the fighting. Only now it wasn’t bitter, it was playful. And we didn’t coexist with the sole purpose of it.

Because now I was his and he was mine. And this knowledge answered all my questions, all my doubts I’d had before about our relationship and our shared insecurities that led us down this scaring path.

Harry was my best friend, and I was his. And there was no love greater than that.

[snowblossomreads]

Day 14: A Light in the Night

Pairing: Colonel Brandon x Wife!Reader

Summary: We revisit the Colonel and his wife, along with their little dog Tulip as they ready to welcome a new life into the world.

Tag(s)/Warning(s): pregnancy, brief description of child birth, fluff, and wholesomess!

Word Count: 1.6K

A/N: And we are back with these little lovelies from day 10! I have to admit I didn't think to make this a sequel yet my brain was like yes we can use this prompt! So here we are~ I hope you enjoy this little cute fluff 😍😍

Snow melted, flowers grew and wilted, and leaves of all colours scattered the ground before a blanket of snow returned to cover the lands around Delaford Estate with its beautiful brightness that made everything shine brightly.

Some things had stayed the same, like the staff at the estate, and her sweet Christopher, handsome and gentle as he always was. While other things had changed just like seasons did.

Namely [Y/n]'s belly, which was now large and round, filled with the babe that she, and her husband were expecting sometime soon, if the doctor's words were to be taken.

Honestly, while she did get excited at the sight of her belly, she had to admit she was ready to give birth as she felt a bit cumbersome with how large she felt. Dressing took longer in the morning, walking was a tedious task after a few months and don't even get her started about sleeping or the constant need to well...relive herself.

It wasn't all bad though as she had mentioned.

For one, her Christopher had become even softer and doting towards her which she hadn't thought possible considering his naturally sweet disposition. Yet he had.

'Come darling, here let me help you out of bed, I don't wish for you to strain yourself so much. It drives me mad, the thought of you and our babe being hurt.'

'Is there anything you wish for me, or the servants to bring you while I am in town, my love? You need only tell me and I shall retrieve it with haste."

He was so ridiculously sweet, sweeter than any person alive she bet, especially when they would lay in bed at night and he would gently stroke her stomach. Kissing her swollen belly, he would whisper to the child within about how much he was looking forward to meeting them, and how he hoped they were being kind to their mother while she kept them safe as they grew.

She could tell how excited he was as his eyes always lit up when he got to speak about how they were expecting, and his excitement increased as they got closer and closer to the winter season when the babe would be born.

So when the signs of labour began to show, and she felt a small pop below and a gush of wetness in her undergarments, she knew it would not be long before the babe they had waited so long for would be in the world.

"Martha!" [Y/n] cried out urgently as she struggled to her feet from her chair near the fireplace.

Tulip, her naughty but sweet dog that had grown in height, sprang up and began to bark loudly, only to be hushed by [Y/n] who waddled to the entrance of the parlour. She was met with Martha and Christopher who had come to see what the commotion was about.

Looking at both of them, her hand on her stomach, and a dark stain beginning to grow on her nightgown, which the other two seemed to spot simultaneously, she stuttered out a nervous,

"I-I think it's time."

As if her words set something off in him, Brandon’s posture immediately changed into one of a seasoned leader who was ready to command his household to help his wife during this important moment.

"Martha take [Y/n] to the bed now!” He barked, firm yet kind were his words, and Martha answered with an equally firm ‘yes sir!’ ready to take orders from the lord of the house. “I will send a rider to fetch the doctor! Wake everyone up once [Y/n] is in bed!"

"Darling that is unnecessary!” [Y/n] exclaimed, only to wince at the pain the excitement seemed to cause. “Do not wake the house I beg you we just need the doctor and Martha no one else."

"Absolutely not, everyone has been waiting for this day and I will not deprive them of it, and Martha may need some extra hands is that not right?" 

"Of course sir!" Martha answered with glee as her eyes twinkled with joy. “We’ve all been waiting for our lady to give birth! No one will mind being woken my dear! They would probably be quite angry if we didn’t wake them!”

"Good now please there is no time to waste!"

"Oooh, how delightful dear!" Martha gasped, going to [Y/n]'s side and gently guiding the woman while Tulip trotted behind them, tail wagging from the buzzing energy that was around her humans."Come there is no time to waste! You should have been in bed already, but oh you and your strong will my lady!

Both sets of people rushed off in different directions, and soon [Y/n] was in the birthing bed while a rider was running to mount their horse and fetch the local doctor.

Candle lights in each window of the estate lit up one by one, illuminating the dark home in the night as news spread that the lady of the house was soon to bring a child into the world. And it wasn't long before the sounds of birthing began.

Had she thought she knew what she was in for after talking to other mothers and to Martha, herself who was a trained midwife and a mother, she was sorely mistaken when the first pains of labour began.

Even Christopher, her poor dear sweet Christoper was going mad as she cried in pain each time she tried to push the babe out. He sat by her side, refusing to leave even when the doctor said that the process was far too messy for a gentleman of his status to watch.

"Sir I have been in trenches filled with mud and the bodies of good men who are no longer here. I have seen messy, and this doctor, this bringing of  new life, while messy, is wondrous and I shall not leave my wife's side until I know she and our child are safe." He was so stern when he said it, she had thought someone had taken her sweet and mild manner Christopher away with the aghast way the doctor stared at him.

But when he looked at her with such worry and concern, she knew he was still there only wanting her pain to end.

And in the wee hours of the morning, relief come for [Y/n] and all of those in the home who waited with bated breath. With one last push and a loud shout, a sharp wail filled the halls of Delaford estate.

"A healthy baby boy!"

Both the doctor and Martha announced after the babe had been cleaned, examined, and swaddled cosily to keep him warm.

"And my is his constitution healthy indeed! Larger than any one of the children I've delivered this year. Oh, he'll be just fine this winter Colonel, my lady!" The doctor stated as he handed the crying baby to [Y/n] who was eager to hold the little wiggling thing.

"Oh Christopher," [Y/n] whispered in wonder, as she stared in awe at the baby who had calmed immediately when he was placed on her chest. "He's so beautiful oh god-." Her voice wavered as emotion filled her throat and eyes.

"He is beautiful indeed," her husband murmured as he stared in wonder with her at the child who rested against her. "Just like his mother beautiful and marvelous."

She turned to him and was surprised yet not, as she saw his eyes glassy and filled with tears. Her strong and calm love. Steady and unwavering as the English oak trees that dotted the estate, was filled with emotions at the sight of his little family that had grown.

They stayed this way for a moment, silently marvelling at the child, as Martha and the doctor helped clean [Y/n] up. Once done, they bowed to the couple and left to give them a moment of privacy. The Brandons thanked them before they left, and only moments after the door had shut, did husband and wife hear the cheers of the house.

It brought a large smile to both of their faces knowing how much support and love the staff of Delaford already had for their babe.

"You make me such a happy man darling such a happy man," he stated as he kissed her temple and leaned down to kiss the babe's forehead.

The little thing stirred at his father's touch, yet made no noise of protest. This seemed to amuse them both as they let out a watery chuckle at his actions or lack thereof.

"And you my Christoper, you make me such an unbelievably happy woman. Oh goodness our babe, I pray that he is as strong, yet kind and gentle as his father," she whispered stroking the child's cheek. "You and him, you both are my everything darling."

"Woof!"

Their eyes widened, and they turned to look at Tulip, who had been calm and quiet the entire time during [Y/n]'s labour. Only now did she seem interested in reminding them she was still here.

"I do not believe Tulip agrees with her being left off the list as our son's sister," Brandon mused as the dog stared at them with a look of expectancy.

Letting out a delighted laugh at the dog's antics, [Y/n] smiled and giggled.

"And yes, you to my Tulip I could never forget you! You do have a little brother to take care of and protect now."

This seemed to appease the dog who let out a softer bark before she laid her head down and closed her eyes.

Laughter from both was music to each other's ears as they took in the new life they had been gifted with. A new life, in the wintertime to light up the darkness that the season was known for because of its early nights. It was most importantly a new life in the Brandons’ home, one that completed the little family they had both wanted.

A/N: Yaaaay oh goodness Brandon would be such a good father, he's so gentle and soft spoken. I think he doesn't have a mean bone in his body even if he were in the army. Stay warm friends it's getting chilly out here!

[sannasruins]

letters from my love

aizawa shouta x reader

type: angst with some fluff sprinkled sporadically, part two to my letters to you but can probably be read stand-alone as well

warning: major character death, grief

a/n: regular text is present, italics are your handwriting, flash backs have tildes (~) enclosing them. reader is refered to with she/her pronous and as "wife". this turned out way more self insert-y than anything else i've written but not for lack of trying, i just couldn't have things be less specific lol, sorry to anyone who doesn't like rain, bugs, and baking

word count: 5.3k

Sometimes, in the middle of the night, he would wake to find your side of the bed cold. He would get up in search of you and would find you bathed in yellow light at the kitchen table, scribbling away at paper. He would ask you what you were doing, when you were coming back to bed, and you would answer him, writing letters, and soon honey I’m almost done. Content with your answers and much too groggy to ask who you were writing letters to, he would make his way back upstairs and into the warmth of bed. And just as you told him, you would soon slip under the covers and cuddle into your husband’s warm and loving embrace.

Shouta gingery removed one of the sealed envelopes from the box, a small sticker keeping it closed. He turned it around to see the back of the letter and his heart started pounding faster when he saw the scrawl of your handwriting. He tried hard to focus on the words in front of him, though he found it increasingly difficult. He closed his eyes, and took a few deep breaths, then reopening them and trying again to read what was addressed to him.

It first rains after I’m gone.

That was your handwriting, but what could that mean? Looking up, he noticed something he hadn’t in his rush to see the contents of the box. On the lid, cut out of construction paper, were the words OPEN WHEN. 

Open when it first rains after I’m gone.

What were these? He put down the first letter and reached for another. You turn 30. Another. It’s been a year. Another. It’s my birthday. You turn 26. It snows. You really miss me. You notice a beautiful sunset. You turn 45. You get sick for the first time after I’m gone. You loose a battle. You turn 28. It’s our wedding anniversary. You find this box. He paused, was this the one he was supposed to read first?

He flipped through the rest of the box, it looked like you had written letters for all of his birthdays, up until he turned 80. That was 55 letters alone. But there were other letters mixed in with them, letters for the changing seasons, letters for coffee dates and weather. And a few of the letters, it seemed, were ones for him to deliver to others, their friends, their fellow heroes. His brows furrowed and two schools of thought argued in his brain. He was mad, mad that you thought you had to do this, mad that your thoughts had been proven right, mad that you knew there was a chance you were going to leave him behind on this miserable planet without you. But he was also grateful, grateful that you loved him so much that you didn’t want to leave him behind with nothing, grateful that you had left him bits of you to have for the rest of his life, his only salvation trying to spread herself past her mortal boundaries.

Open when: you find this box.

He carefully peeled back the sticker that sealed the envelope closed, not wanting to tear the fragile paper. Inside was nice looking stationery, the design suited you, he thought, folded neatly into thirds, front and back covered in your words, the ink holding just a slight fraction of all that you were. He pulled the paper out of its bindings, and delicately unfolded it, revealing the beginning. 

Dear Shouta, my love, 

If you are reading this, that probably means that I am gone, that or you found this while cleaning the closet, and we will be having a rather embarrassing conversation soon.

He let out an amused exhale, but the breath he drew back in held somberness.

My love, I’m sorry that I was the one to leave first, I promise you I never wanted these preparations I’ve made to ever have to be used, I would much rather prefer if we got to grow old together, retire from being heroes, maybe move out to the sunny country, and live our lives long and peaceful. But we’re heroes, aren’t we? We’ve dedicated so much of our lives, from such a young age, to be able to protect and put ourselves on the line for the greater good. 

I hope I went out heroically, maybe not a blaze of glory but, not on the losing side of the battle when it was all said and done. Maybe even I won in the end? You wouldn’t wanna be married to a loser, now would you?

“You did,” he murmured to himself, having completely forgotten his friend across the table from him, “I’d rather be married to you as a looser than anyone else though, a wife who is a looser sounds a lot better than a wife who is dead.” He continued to read.

I wish you could know how much I love you, my Shouta, how much I wish for you. I would give you the world if I could, heavens know I tried. Please do not let my efforts be in vain my love, do not let my departure be the thing that crashes and burns the path that you have painstakingly forged for yourself. 

Crash and burn he thought bitterly, oh the irony. 

I will be waiting for you, dearest, wherever the soul goes where it dies, I will be waiting for you at the start, so that neither of us will be alone. But please, do not join me prematurely, I won’t greet you with joy if you did that, Shouta. Live a long, long life, make it worthwhile, if not for yourself, then for me, please. You have so much left to do. Maybe try teaching, you were always so great with children, teach them better, teach them the hard lessons we had to learn ourselves so that they won’t make the same mistakes their predecessors made.

With all my love, my whole heart, my soul, and my entire being,

Y/n.

That’s where the first letter ended. He sat back, not ready to process everything it had contained, so he moved his focus to his previously forgotten friend.

“Hizashi, there’s a letter for you, in here too,” he nodded towards the box, “there’s actually a couple not addressed to me.” He pulled the letters, which were for your mutual friends and fellow heroes, out of the box, and handed them to the blonde. There seemed to be a silent understanding that it was now Hizashi’s duty to deliver the letters to their recipients, Shouta probably wouldn’t be ready to do that for a long while, and they deserved to receive their messages in their times of grief. 

Aizawa Shouta didn’t go back to work for a while, instead staying in the house the two of you had made into a home. He wasn’t a useless mound of grief the entirety of his stay indoors though. He had decided to do what you told him, and looked into getting his teaching license, taking online courses while slowly cleaning the home. He was never going to get rid of your presence in the space, it was as much yours as it was his, even if you were no longer there. But he needed to get your clothes out of the shared closest, and your products off of the bathroom vanity, carefully being tucked away. He placed more pictures of you around the house, pictures of your wedding day, of your after-school dates, of late night patrols together, decorated all of the walls and filled many empty surfaces.

 Monsoon season had arrived, and it had been a month since your passing that the first real rain happened, it was now June, and the air was hot, balmy. The afternoon rain brought some relief from the heat of summer, and he knew it was time to read his second letter.

Open when: It first rains after I’m gone.

He sat down in the living room, into the plush arm chair that faced the windows, he reminisced on all the days just like this one, where you would sit and listen to the rain, your book of the week resting in your hands, the only other sounds breaking the patter of rain being you turning the page, and the noises you made in reaction to what new words you were taking in, a gasp, a giggle, a snort.

Hi Shouta, 

Are you sitting in my chair right now? Are you watching the rain? 

Never again will anyone know him as well as you did.

I know you have mixed feelings about rain, it seems to almost always show up in the moments that feel fitting for it, for you at least. I’m sure you know how much I love the rain though, the rhythmic pounding, the flash and crash of lightning and thunder. Do you remember that day in our third year, both of us had forgotten to bring umbrellas, you wanted to wait until the rain had let up, but there was no telling when that would be, and I wanted us to just walk out into the rain.

~ “Come on Shouta,” you called out joyfully, “it’s just water.” You stood in the courtyard of the school, most of the students gone now but those that were just leaving looking at you strangely as you spun in the rain. You walked back to where he was standing under the awning, and took both of his hands in yours, pulling gently on him, to bring him out of the shelter and into the downpour. ~

You were so worried I was going to catch a cold; I was more worried about you though. I didn’t want you to be so cautious in life, over such little things, even if we both caught colds, it would be better than waiting, watching, for something that may never come. Shouta, my dear, I don’t know if you're waiting for a sign, a sign to move on, a sign to live, a sign to die. That sign may never come. So let the rain be your sign, let the rain tell you to come out, to feel alive, to dance under it, even if your clothes will get wet, even if you get a cold. I don't want you to move on from me as much as you don't, but that doesn't mean you have to forget me, my love. I will be in every drop of rain that kisses your skin. 

He lowered the letter and looked outside to the darkened clouds. He got up, placing the letter on the coffee table, before slipping on his shoes and heading out the front door. He stood there, in the rain, for quite a while. The droplets mixing with his tears as they hit his face, trying to feel you in every single one of them. He stood there, until the rain started to let up, the color of the clouds fading to a lighter gray, and the sting of the rain turned gentler. He shook the water out of his hair, and turned around, back towards the house. It seemed to have a new air about it, something, maybe, slightly less heavy, or maybe it was just his imagination. He headed back inside, something different about him too, though he couldn’t see it, maybe the rain had washed away something heavy, maybe you had kissed away some of the pain. 

The Butsadan* he had gotten to place in your home held 2 pictures of you, one that he had taken on that very first crepe date, chocolate staining one corner of your mouth as you grinned at him, and one he had taken on your wedding day, looking so lovely in your dress, a gentle, loving smile gracing your lips as you looked at him with such adoration. He never let the flowers at your alter wither, changing out the water daily and the flowers every week, trying to pick out ones you would have liked, while keeping it mixed up so you wouldn’t become bored with the same thing every week. He would light incense twice a day, in the morning, before he left the house, and in the evenings, while he ate dinner, so you in a sense would still be there, eating with him. It was always one of your favorite scents, he knew you well enough to know, what scented lotions or shampoos you would choose, which candles and waxes you always gravitated towards. It was nice and reminded him of the times where he would get to smell the sweet scents every time you walked past him, the air carrying it faintly to his nose. He would leave your favorite buns and candies on the alter, never going too long without changing them out for something fresh, he didn’t ever want you to have something stale.

He started back at his hero work, and applied at several hero training high schools, and was surprised when his former school, UA accepted his application and hired him on for the next school year. 

It was September when he opened the next letter, it had been 4 months now since you left, and he was walking along the sidewalk of a riverbank, like the two of you often did in high school. He saw couples that looked like the two of you did back then, youthful and full of spirit and hope, he tried not to feel envious of the teenagers, though it was hard . He trained his weary eyes forward, and paused for a moment, and how beautiful the sunset was that evening. He wondered to himself if there were any sunsets as beautiful as this in the days that he walked home with you, that he never noticed because the most beautiful thing in the whole world walked right next to him, and everything else just paled in comparison. He hoped the teenage couples he saw earlier also noticed how spectacular the sunset in front of them way, and that they were grateful to see such a beautiful thing with one another. He headed home, to read his letter.

Open when:  You see a beautiful sunset

Hi Honey,

I’ve seen a lot of people say, when they pass, look for them in the sunsets, that they will paint an especially beautiful one for all that miss them. Please don’t look for me in the sunsets, Shouta, I don’t think that’s where I’ll be waiting for you. I’m not entirely sure where you may find me hidden, my love, so you better keep your eyes peeled. I wish I was there though, to see another beautiful sunset with you, so admire them twice as much, once for you, once for me. 

Maybe I’ll be one of those cool mantises, 

Your lovely wife.

Bemused, Shouta thought back to your class 1A mountain training camp.

~ You had wandered off while most of the group cleaned the used dishes, having already helped by being one of two to cook their dinner. He had just started to wonder where you had gone off to as your group was wrapping up cleaning the dishes, when you came practically prancing back into the clearing and towards your friends, something gleaming in your hands.

“Look! Look at what I caught!” you brandished off your daring find, an impressively large rhinoceros beetle. Some of the group around you screamed, the loudest of them all being Yamada Hizashi, an ear-splitting shriek escaping his lips as he jumped back from the creature and its captor. You giggled slightly but apologized to the blond, it wasn’t your intention to scare him, this was just a really cool beetle. He had a sour look on his face as he shakily nodded at you before backing away slowly, not turning to face the building he was going towards until he was 50 meters away from you, what he deemed to be safe. You looked after him with a face of mixed emotions, feeling bad for scaring him, and bummed he didn’t think your bug was cool. Shouta stepped next to you, getting your attention and distracting you from the disappearing figure of the angry Hizashi. 

“Do you know what kind of beetle it is?” he had asked you, trying his best to seem genuinely curious, he was, but he knew he wasn’t always the best at showing it. Your expression quickly changed as you smiled at the ebony haired boy, launching into maybe one too many bug facts about your interesting find. He didn’t mind though, that was one of the moments he fell for you a little more. ~

P.S. Some large species of mantis in captivity can live up to two years! It’s crazy to think how short their lives are to ours, but to them it is their entire existence. I think though, I would be okay even being a Karner Blue butterfly, which lives for only five days, if those five days I got to spend with you, flying around in a field warmed by the summer sun. 

Shouta put down the letter, and raised his eyes, just in time to see the last slivers of light disappear from the horizon, the beautiful sunset having lived its course and gone, making way for a warm summer night, the singing of cicadas fading with the light.

Time seemed to continue its endless march on into the future, in spite of anyone who begged it to slow, to pause just a moment, and let someone gather themselves, put themselves together just a bit more, just a bit better. And soon it was Aizawa Shouta’s 26th birthday, and the first birthday in over a decade that he would have to spend without you, and your warm little parties and cute cakes you would bake. 

Hizashi came and picked him up, insisting that you wouldn’t want Shouta to stay home, all alone, on his birthday. The two of them headed into the social district of town, and into a popular bar for heroes and sidekicks. Shouta nursed on two beers through the night as he watched his friend mingle with the crowd, though never straying too far away from the birthday boy sitting at the bar. At the end of the night, the dark eyed man had a slight buzz to him, his chest holding more heat than normal, but he wasn’t near drunk, he couldn’t say the same thing about his green-eyed friend though, whose face was flushed and words slurring together in jumbled nonsense. Shouta put Hizashi’s arm over his shoulders as he led them out of the bar, the arm heavy with intoxication and non-compliance.

“Nooooo,” the blond groaned as they the street the bar resided on, “comonnnnnn Shouta, te nightstill youg,” he broke away, and spun on the heel of his toe, twisting under the city lights in the nearly deserted street.

Shouta sighed, “yes, but we’re getting olddddd,” he drew out the last syllable of his last word, in lighthearted mockery of his inebriated friend, he beckoned towards where he stood safely on the sidewalk “come on I’d like to get home now.”

The blond looked at him, with what must to have been his attempt at puppy eyes, “but I don’t want you to be all alone tonight.”

“I won’t be alone tonight,” he mused, “she’ll be there too, in spirit at least, but,” he paused and looked at his heavily drunk friend, “I’ll let you crash on the couch if you promise to not throw up in or on anything.”

Hizashi grinned at Shouta, “mkayyyy,” and started his way off in the direction he thought was your home, only to have Shouta grasp him by the shoulder and turn him a sharp 90 degrees, “wrong way” he chided, Hizashi nodded and parroted his friend “wrong way.”

The second they passed the threshold into your home, Hizashi passed out, leaving his poor friend to pry off his shoes, and drag him to the couch, where he unceremoniously tossed him. He went into the kitchen to get himself a glass of water and sipped while looking at the snoring man on his couch. Pursing his lips, he begrudgingly filled another glass and set it on the coffee table, along with an aspirin, before leaving the ground floor of his home and heading up to his bedroom. He caught himself in his thinking. Was this the first time he had thought of it not as a shared yours but now only his? A wave of guilt washed over him, he didn’t want that kind of thinking to come, he didn’t ever want to stop thinking about you, about your lingering presence in his life. He swallowed, hard, he was a bit too tipsy to be thinking about those kinds of things, he could think about it later, in the morning. The pounding headache he knew he would have might be a suitable punishment for his straying thoughts he decided. It was time to open the letter.

He had saved it for the end of his day, wanting the last bits of his thoughts to be on you, maybe it was partly saving the best, and most painful, for last. The letter just being another form of him having to accept that you weren't here to wish him well. 

Open when: You turn 26.

This letter felt bulkier than the ones he had read before, and when he carefully with hands of practice, though he wished they weren't, opened the letter, he saw three 1000 yen notes, with a small sticky note attached to them. The sticky note read ‘getcha self sumthin nice ;)’. He moved on to the letter.

Happy birthday my love!

He smiled, his eyes already starting to tear. 

You’re 26 now, do you feel any different? Are your bones starting to hurt? Does the rain make your joints act up yet? You know that’s coming up, it’ll be here before you notice. I hope you’re making the best of the time you have before that, though I also hope you make the best of the time you have during and after that as well. Do you like your present? I would have gotten you something better but there’s not much that you can fit into an envelope, besides paper, though at least it’s paper with monetary value! I know! I’ve truly outdone myself! You’re probably going “ohhhh y/n, you know me so well, this colorful paper with a dude on it is just the thing I wanted!”

I’m sorry I’m not there Sho, to spend it with you, I wish I was. I hope it’s not too painful without me, I hope you have a good time on your birthday, maybe go out, have dinner with out friends. I don’t want you to be alone my love.

Sincerely, truly, one hundred percent without a doubt, 

The world’s best gift giver, aka, your y/n. 

The was a soft drip, the sound of water hitting paper, before he realized he was crying. He folded the letter and returned it to its envelope, not wanting to mess it up further, as he cried to himself. He reached out and found the small stuffed animal he had come to rely on in your absence, and pushed his face into the plush of its body, inhaling, trying to calm down. But the thing had long lost your scent, and now, to him, it smelt of nothing at all. 

He fell asleep that night, clasping onto the stuffed creature as if it were his only lifeline, the image of him sleeping reminiscent of not too far in the past, when he had just lost you. 

Time marched ever onwards.

It was 4 days before Christmas when the first snow of the season came. Everyone was joyous and hoping it would last until the romantic holiday, wishing for a white Christmas. Shouta was out on patrol, in the late evening, when it started, getting to witness it along with those going home, from an extra-long days work, from the packed bars in the city, from cram schools as they study for the upcoming finals. He was alone though, crouching on top of a midrise as his eyes scanned back alleys, searching for darting shadowy figures, considering the white flurries only a hindrance as they obscured more and more of his vision, until it became clear that he would no longer be able to stalk his prey with his vision blocked out in the sheets of icy precipitation. His breath fogged the air as he sighed angrily, not wanting to let them get away but not being able to stop the forces of nature, though how he wished he was bend them to his will just this one time.

He decided to go home, that he was ill prepared for this and could try again tomorrow, in warmer clothes and more suitable gear. 

When he arrived home, after he had unburden himself from his gear, past when he padded into the kitchen and set a kettle on the stove to boil, only when he sat down in your chair, a warm mug of fresh coffee in his callused hands, one sugar, no cream, did he look out the window, and see, really see the snow. 

Open when: It snows.

There was no dear Shouta, my love or honey to open this letter. 

Do you remember, our third year of high school, during winter break, that night we stayed out under the stars and snow? I can see it so vividly even now, I think that hast to have been the night I fell in love with you, though of course I didn’t say it then. His Purple Highness had us out patrolling by ourselves, truly by ourselves, no senior heroes notified that we were out without a supervisor on the same streets or back at headquarters, a taste of freedom that we would soon know every day. We started just as the sun had started to set, heading out, our winter costumes to keep us toasty. It wasn’t really boring, but it was mundane, as we strolled around the streets, keeping a look out for any shady behavior. 4 hours in, just before 9pm, you stopped in front of a cafe that was getting ready to close. I didn’t notice you had stopped until I was 10 meters ahead, and you hadn’t noticed that I continued on, because you were staring inwards. I walked halfway back and called out your name, you turned your head, surprised that I was so far away and not directly next to you. You pointed inside and made a drinking motion with your hand. I protested, Shouta we’re on the job right now, and you smiled at me, nose glowing red in the yellow light let out from the homey shop, its fine, you insisted, they won’t know what we don’t tell them. And you took me by the hand and pushed into the cafe. You already knew my order, which surprised me, I didn’t think you were the type to notice and remember those kinds of things, but it filled my stomach with a swarm of butterflies that threatened to come up my throat. We sat at a little table by the window while we waited for our order to be ready, you wrapping both your hands around mine, rubbing and blowing hot air on my frozen fingers, wordlessly. I thought I was going to barf butterflies. Our orders were ready before I knew it, and I didn’t want them to be, I wish they had taken longer to make those little coffees. We left the warm haven of the shop and went back into the cold night. You told me to hold my drink with both hands, I blushed and asked you, did you want to get coffee just so I had something warm to hold? Your face flushed and you looked out, away from me and towards the street. A car passed by as you answered, I almost didn’t hear, but you told me yes. 

~He remembered the embarrassment of being called out, but also pride, that you had noticed, and were happy about his little gestures. He couldn’t hold your hand while the two of you patrolled, and even your winter costume had forgone gloves, so he had watched as the night grew longer, the color of your fingers redden. He watched you occasionally rubbing them together, blowing into them, or scrunching them absentmindedly, trying to keep them warm while unaware of your actions, but he was aware.~

The rest of the night wasn’t eventful, except when we stopped that guy robbing a corner store, though we took him out pretty quickly. The cashier was so thankful that she gave us those little handwarmers while we waited for the police to come pick up the attempted robber. I was so happy that she gave us those because my fingers were returning to their freezing temperature and all the cafes were long closed. After that day though, I started finding handwarmers like those in the pockets of my school bag, in my shoe locker, in my jacket. I knew it was you, by the way, I never told you that. Thank you for thinking of me always, my love. We got off at 1 am, we had ended our patrol by a park, and even though most of the city was dark, and even though I’m sure you were cold and tired and hungry, when I suggested we play in the snow, you bent down, I thought you were ignoring me and tying your shoe, and I turned around with a sigh, that was until I felt the cold splat of a snowball on the small of my back! I whipped around and you were grinning, bearing all your teeth, the look in your eye, if I wasn’t so determined to get back at you, I would have been swooning, at least I still was internally. 

~You quickly bent down and mashed snow together into a messy ball before you launched it at him, trying to wipe that grin off his face before he noticed your blush. The two of you launched into an all-out snow war. Shouta had the upper hand in the beginning, as he had made several quick balls before he launched his first attack at your unsuspecting back, but you rapidly leveled the playing field. ~

He couldn’t remember now who had won that night. That didn’t really matter though, because he could still remember the wide grin that made his heart, even to this day, do backflips.

We played in the snow like we were little again, until we gave out, and lay on our backs next to one another, and looked to the sky, watching as the flakes slowly drifted down from dark gray clouds. Your cold hand, with fingers stiff from snow, reached out and grasped my cold hand, and squeezed. Both of us were still panting hard from all the fun we had had. As we laid there, hand in hand, I thought to myself, I love him. I think that’s the same moment I decided I was never going to let you go. There’s not really a moral to this story, besides me telling you the night I realized I loved you, I think I just want to remind you of happy things, the snow can feel kind of depressing now that we’re older, if we don’t look at it through the right eyes. So, look at it through the eyes of the Shouta who threw a snowball at my back. 

The definite winner of that snowball fight, 

Your love, Y/n.

*shrines used for the deceased in homes, originally of Buddhist origin but now used non-denominationally as well.

there may be a part 3? i was planning on doing all of the letters (excluding the birthdays) that i listed, but it kept getting longer and longer. let me know if you would like a part 3, i think if even 1 person asked me, i would write it lol

[summitclan-chronicles]

SUMMITCLAN CHRONICLES (SCC) is an 18+ roleplay inspired by xenofiction like Warrior Cats, Watership Down, Ratha's Creature, Zorba and Lucky, and the New York State Adirondacks.

Life is hard in the mountains. Creatures fight for every mouthful - for every birth is a death.

But does it have to be cruel forever, always? The cats of Summitclan came together not for battle but for the color of the leaves, the shine of the moon, the hush of fallen snow; together their ancestors brought forth a world where cats have carved a gentle soul into the slope of the harsh mountains. Where food is hidden away to feed the sick when the cold times come; where there are plants that quicken the healing of splintered bones; where one's newborns are always safe and loved. A kitten of Summitclan is a kitten that was told through act and word how wanted they were - and an elder never passes alone.

Life was hard in the mountains. So they changed how life was lived.

Could Summitclan be the perfect refuge, high on those wooded mountain peaks, in the eye of those ancestors who cared so deeply?

We offer you..

• A calm, loving, adult Warrior Cats community that assumes the best in you & others.

• A unique single-character model where every member has one cat with whom they experience Summitclan - in birth, through life, and in death.

• Exclusive lore and worldbuilding that must be taught to new generations & incomers.

• A system of real-time years and seasons with extended days and nights for extra roleplay time, with weather reflecting the Adirondacks themselves.

• A slow-burn style experience where characters are expanded upon as if they were living beings, evolving as they experience, conflict, learn, reflect and adapt.

• A series of unique festivals year-round to bring the community and clan together as a unit, each themed after a season and its associated needs.

• Resources and prompts members can access to give them ideas for interactions & relationships during slow periods or writer's blockages.

• Staff with high expectations and explicit instructions on how to settle disagreements and keep members lighthearted.

• A support system for less experienced roleplayers to learn from more experienced members.

• A stable design made to last beyond any single member, easily passed down so that it does not abruptly die.

And before you join, I want to inform you ...

This roleplay features feral cats living wild in the Adirondack Mountain Range. Everyday activities including hunting small to medium animals, possibly fending off small to large threats, cats being born + possibly not surviving long after, and cats recieving varying injuries, contracting varying sicknesses, or even losing their lives in tragic ways. All things will be handled with grace, and the roleplay is designed to be balanced rather than leaning toward good or bad events, but you will not be able to avoid these themes upon joining.

Who Are You Looking For?

We are looking for people that are creative, gentle, patient, open-minded, friendly and considerate. If you're someone who indulges in lightheartedness just as often as you do the dark side, and can see the gentle edge in everything, this might be for you...

Our Application:

Grand Opening applications have closed! This area will soon have a link to an app for kittens & loners.