#and then river came along who sticks his nose into everything

[disappearinginq]

May we have another slow horses snippet? 👉👈🥰

Of course you can! Though I did have to reread what I'd previously posted to make sure it wasn't a duplicate - this is an excerpt from "River disappeared for over a week because of Lamb's enemies"

“You’re too nice,” Louisa said abruptly.

River blinked owlishly at her, and she could see the gears working slowly at the shift in conversation. “Thanks?”

“It’s not a compliment.”

River made to shrug, but winced instead.

“I mean it, River. You’re too nice. You’re never going to be good at this job because you’re too fucking nice. And that’s not how you play the game.”

River didn’t say anything, and Louisa took it as permission to continue. Which perhaps wasn’t fair, given his current state of being, but who knew what he would remember next time he woke up.

“You can’t go into things expecting the best of people. You can’t be the hero all the time. I mean - Christ, look at you.” She gestured angrily with one hand, waving at the splints on his fingers, the broken ribs, the black eye and split lip. “You look like you went ten rounds with Rhonda Rousey. What the hell did you get involved with this time?”

“Not my fault,” River protested, though it came out more like a whine, which Louisa knew was the drugs talking.

“I find that hard to believe.” Louisa sat back in her chair hard enough the feet slid abrasively against the linoleum floor. She gestured towards Lamb. “Aren’t you going to say anything?”

“Why bother?” Lamb asked, raising an eyebrow as he looked over the rims of his glasses. “You seem to have it handled.”

[ollypopwrites]

Ch. 5 The Devil You Know

Pairing: Gale x Druid!Tav (named)

Rating: T

Warnings for this chapter: canon-typical blood & violence, fantasy racism, and discussions of death.

Summary:

The Drow turned around, he was tall and lean with a deeply discerning light blue eye. Only one was opened, the other eye permanently shut by a scar that puckered his indigo skin diagonally from chin to forehead. When he saw her his white eyebrows shifted upwards, and his brand of the Absolute revealed itself to her tadpole immediately.  “A tiefling who speaks Deep Drow,” the stranger said wonderingly. “And a true soul none-the-less.”  “My father taught me,” she said plainly. “Are you also searching for the escaped deep gnome?”  “I am,” he nodded. “The trail ends here.”  “Then our search continues,” Isra said, ready to turn and walk away.   “Shall I join you? We are hunting the same prey, after all.”

Notes: Translations at the bottom (please forgive any errors in lore, or language, I'm doing my best lol and I am always open to correction/feedback)

Read on Ao3 or below the cut.

Her father would have scolded her for this, venturing into the Underdark with a party so unfamiliar with its dangers and resources.  If Isra was honest, this had been a more enjoyable time beneath the surface than her childhood was. The myconid colony had been beautiful; Isra found the way they fostered life from the rotting carcasses of duergar that had threatened them somehow comforting. The sussur tree (although it came with the strange absence of magic) had been a beautiful natural wonder to behold, unlike any other flora she had seen before. 

The search for a path to Moonrise Towers led them to an outpost of duergar and Absolutists, which was a bit convenient since she agreed to save some deep gnomes and collect the head of a True Soul called Nere for the Myconids. The best plan they had was to infiltrate from the inside, which made Isra’s stomach turn. She brought Shadowheart, Wyll and Lae’zel to sail towards the outpost, planning to send Wyll back with the boat to bring the rest of the camp along after they secured their safe passage and a place to bunk down. When a boat full of duergar pulled up next to them, Isra had to resort to using the tadpole to assert dominance when her lies did not seem to stick. She hated to do it, hated feeling it tempt her with the promise of power — but they were in a tough position and it was her job to keep them all safe and on path.   

The inhabitants of the Grymforge abided by everything she hated about her past in the Underdark: cut-throat yet arbitrary hierarchies, and self-interest to the point of cruelty. It was all so familiar, and she wanted out as soon as possible. The dead drow littered about made her feel on edge, and she felt her gaze linger on a dead man that looked similar to her father. The slope of his nose was different and the lifeless open eyes were a pale lilac in comparison to her father’s red ones, but they looked similar enough that it made her pause. This man was left out to rot; displayed like a trophy from a prize hunt.

 She had to allow Shadowheart to speak to Duergar shoving deep gnome bodies into the river, her blood boiling hotter each minute she spent there. The whole place was already warm, due to the nearness of lava flow, and it felt like she was being stifled by the heat the further in they went. 

They played the part of Absolutists while getting information, but only Isra was able to get the deep gnomes to talk by mentioning Thulla, one of their own that had been saved  by the myconids. One of the enslaved gnomes had escaped, and with her was the solution to breakout Nere and the others. They had little time, only enough to camp out for the night and head out once everyone was fully rested. 

Taking breakfast with them, Astarion, Gale, Shadowheart and Isra set out. 

The Grymforge was formerly a Sharran temple, much to the excitement of Shadowheart. It was a warm and tiring search, having to utilize a moving platform and Misty step to venture across the impossibly tall structures. It was a marvel of architecture, regardless of what it housed, Isra had to admit.

After hours of searching amongst rusted swords, long decayed skeletons still in decayed armor, they saw freshly dried blood stains too new to have belonged to any of the countless dead they had passed. The trail led to a pair of discarded shackles, broken arrows and… a drow man inspecting the scene. 

In Deep Drow she warned him not to venture further into the forge if he was not a follower of the Absolute. Isra’s tongue was not practiced in her birth language, the sounds strange leaving her mouth. A warning was all she could offer him, without giving too much away but it felt wrong not to offer something judging by the bodies of her kin below. 

“Falduna l'Zif,” was his response. 

“Praise the Absolute,” Isra said aloud, in order to keep her companions on the same page. 

The Drow turned around, he was tall and lean with a deeply discerning light blue eye. Only one was opened, the other eye permanently shut by a scar that puckered his indigo skin diagonally from chin to forehead. When he saw her his white eyebrows shifted upwards, and his brand of the Absolute revealed itself to her tadpole immediately. 

“A tiefling who speaks Deep Drow,” the stranger said wonderingly. “And a true soul none-the-less.” 

“My father taught me,” she said plainly. “Are you also searching for the escaped deep gnome?” 

“I am,” he nodded. “The trail ends here.” 

“Then our search continues,” Isra said, ready to turn and walk away.  

“Shall I join you? We are hunting the same prey, after all.”

Isra did not need the tadpole to know this made her companions uneasy. Gale and Shadowheart were usually decent at not fidgeting in discomfort, but it was as if she could feel them staring at the back of her head. Astarion could not help himself but to shift his weight, hip cocked and arms crossed — he played it off easily with his haughty demeanor but she knew he was positioning himself to spring forward on his preferred foot and attack. 

The point of this expedition was to find the deep gnome so they could free the others, and taking an Absolutist with them may have complicated things. Still, she had no good excuse at the top of her mind to refuse him. Sending him back to the forge risked him telling the others that they were suspicious. Better to keep him close enough to dispatch if they needed to. 

“You may come as far as you are useful,” she replied evenly. 

As far as she knew he was not yet a True Soul, perhaps she could pull rank and dismiss him once they found another lead. But until then, she had to play along.

“As you command, True Soul,” he bowed slightly and then looked up, “— I’m sorry you haven’t shared your name,” 

“Phaere.” She had no clue what possessed her to use her mother’s name instead of her own, but she felt uneasy offering her real name to him.  

His eyes narrowed slightly. “True Soul Phaere.” 

“And you are?”

“You may call me Jevran.” 

She nodded once in acknowledgement before introducing the others. As they began their search again, she felt the tension amongst them all. Gale was glued to her side, Astarion refused to turn his back to the newcomer and Shadowheart was stoic as ever.

‘Any particular reason you are using a fake name?’ She heard Shadowheart in her mind through the tadpole.

‘I don’t know, I just said it,’ Isra sent back. 

The others were quiet, except Astarion who had started flirting for information. Jevran was on his way to Moonrise Towers to become a True Soul, he was under the command of Nere and was sent looking for the escaped deep gnome after the others had heard the enslaved ones talk about her stealing the only solution they had for the cave in. 

“It’s unusual for top siders to know our languages,” Jevran mused. 

“My father is no top sider,” Isra corrected. 

“A Drow?” He asked.

She nodded her head. Not wanting to provide any more details about herself than necessary, but having no false backstory to give. 

“And your mother?” 

“Quite the interest you have in our dear Phaere,” Shadowheart commented dryly. “Is this an interrogation?”

“Forgive me,” Jevran said. “The Absolute has put many interesting people on my path, but I have never met anyone quite like you.” 

Isra said nothing in return, uncertain in her ability to weave a story of deceptions like Astarion or Shadowheart did. Her method of dishonesty was usually one of omission. The best she could do was provide silence and hope it came off as some kind of pompous authority. 

They searched high and low, and once Isra found traces of the deep gnome Philomeen, she bid Shadowheart, Astarion and Jevran to go search a separate part of the crumbling temple for the sake of expediency. 

“I’ve found Philomeena’s trail, keep him occupied while Gale and I find her — enjoy the temple, Shadowheart.” Isra communicated through the tadpole. 

“Ugh, but he’s boring and a weirdo,” Astarion  offered back. “Can’t we just kill him?”

“Not yet, he may have information about Moonrise,” Isra said. 

They parted ways then. Her and Gale walked along in a comfortable silence, as they traversed through broken walls and around ledges that dropped into oblivion. If they did speak they kept their voices down, so as not to spook the fleeing deep gnome. To be so clever and escape she must have been cautious and flighty, they did not want to lose their chance. 

“That drow had quite the interest in you,” Gale commented quietly.

“I’m used to it,” she replied casually. “Everyone wants to know just what I am. Probably to figure out which insults to use.” When she looked over, Gale’s brow was furrowed, usually a sign he was trying to figure out a puzzle or conundrum. “In a good portion of drow circles I’m a tainted half-breed,” she explained, “it’s part of the reason my family left the Underdark to begin with.” 

“People can be inconceivably cruel,” he seemed to mutter to himself. 

Isra just shrugged. He was right. “I mostly get mistaken for a pureblood tiefling anyway,” she said, “and… well, being called hellspawn isn’t exactly nice but I’ve had less trouble topside than my father. The first time I saw someone cower and run from him I almost laughed. My soft spoken, prissy father who's never held a sword in his life, and some old bat was convinced he was there to pillage her village.” 

“What pish posh,” Gale said. “Ignorance is still alive and well, despite the wealth of knowledge both anecdotal and empirical, proving that no race of the material plane is more violent than another.”

“Not everyone can be as clever as you, Gale,” she said pleasantly. “You are top of the class, after all.” 

“While I am, admittedly, very clever, this boils down to something beyond stupidity,” he replied. 

“As usual, Gale, you are right.”

“The name you gave Jevran,” Gale said after a moment, “is it a alias you use often?”

“No,” she frowned. “It’s my mother’s name.” She took a deep breath, “there’s something about this place, it makes my skin crawl. I just wanted distance from it.”

Gale was silent for a moment, “well, while it is a lovely name, I much prefer Isra over True Soul Phaere.”

They found Philomeena after more climbing and searching deeper into the deteriorating temple. She nearly blew them and herself to pieces with some smoke powder in order to keep her freedom or die trying. Luckily, she was able to be talked down and convinced they were there to help her and the others. 

Isra did not blame her for running off after  providing them with some of the very potent smoke powder.  She had seen how the Duergar treated the deep gnomes, both living and dead. Self-preservation was a skill often necessary for surviving the Underdark, even if it meant burning bridges and breaking hearts.

 They met up with Astarion and Shadowheart again, Jevran in tow. Through the tadpole, they agreed not to tell him they had found Philomeena, since the other scouting group had found a couple satchels of the smokepowder as well. It wouldn’t hurt to keep some for themselves and Philomeena was one less gnome they had to ensure the safety of if she was long gone. 

“Well done,” Isra said pleasantly. “Go alert your superiors, Jevran. My  group and I will head back to the forge after we rest up.” 

“Do not linger too long,” Jevran warned, “Nere’s chance of surviving diminishes by the moment.”  

Isra’s eyebrow raised. “I’m well aware.” 

“Apologies,” he bowed. “I shall take my leave. May I ask one more question? Curiosity has plagued me since we met.”

She folded her arms. “Ask.”

“What house do you hail from?”

“My family is of mercantile class. We claim no house, only the name of Galaer, ” Isra stated plainly.

“Usstan kreth'el dosst sashin,” Jevran said, bowing his head.

“Dosst kreth'el  zhah izilted,” Isra nodded. “Farewell, Jevran. In Her Name.” 

“In Her Name.” 

They parted then and the group went back towards camp. Shadowheart was exhilarated by the find of the temple, despite her shock at how brutally all the inhabitants had been wiped out. Astarion had several things to say about Jevran, most of them unkind and informed them he tried to needle information out of them about Isra.

“I think he’s got a crush,” Astarion teased, “if you’re interested.”

“He does not,” Isra snorted. “I’m a half-breed who somehow outranks him — he wants to make sense of me.”

“So, was your mother a tiefling then?” Shadowheart asked.

“No, she was a drow,” Isra told her, “I get my tiefling heritage from my papa.” 

“So it was a lie? That your father was a drow?”

“No,” Isra shook her head. “My mother and father were married by arrangement.” 

“She stepped out, did she?”

“My father explains it as a mutual agreement, they were very close but they never loved each other – not like that, anyway,” Isra said. “My father met someone, my mother liked him and she wanted to give them a child. So her and my papa… well…” she let the insinuation trail off. “My mother did get sick, and after she died, my papa and father raised me.”

“Unusual family dynamic,” Shadowheart commented.

“Maybe to some,” Isra shrugged. “But we were happy, nonetheless.” 

Back at camp, there was a debrief of the day, a reminder that they had a few things to finish up in the forge and that a tough battle would likely be brewing the next day. They ate up a hearty meal prepared by Gale, and tried to settle in as early as they could for the day ahead of them. Lae’zel was on first watch, with the others getting things ready for the day ahead tomorrow just before they planned to sleep. 

“Halt!” Lae’zel commanded loudly. “Come no closer, or I will run you through.” 

The camp became so quiet the crackling fire was the only sound. Camp had been intruded on before by the likes of Mizora, but other than that it had been a relatively safe space free of any altercations. Hands reached quietly for weapons, eyes peering out into the darkness in the direction of Lae’zel’s interest. A voice came through, slightly familiar to some of them. 

“My name is Jevran of house Shobalar,” Jevran came out of the darkness into the light of the campfire, making Lae’zel lunge forward with a warning  growl. 

Even Scratch and Chickpea were on high alert, the owlbear cub’s feathers puffing up to make him appear larger. 

“Your name means nothing, istick, state your business ,” Lae’zel hissed. 

“Stand down, Lae’zel,” Shadowheart came forward. “This is our ally, the one we told you of.”

Laezel lowered her sword, but did not sheath it and waited expectantly. Isra was frozen in place, staring down the intruder like he was some kind of apparition. Jevran was a common name for drows, she’d met at least two on the surface and knew of more in her youth. House Shobalar, however, shook her. It was a surname she knew very well. 

The scar on his face called back sudden memories, buried deep and avoided at all costs. Blood under her fingernails, the tear of skin and a child screams of agonizing pain. 

“What’s the news, Jevran? Make it quick, I’m tired.” Astarion said boredly.

“Isra Galaer,” Jevran said. “I’m hurt you did not recognize me.” 

Confused silence fell over the camp and Isra felt like she was stuck. A rabbit in the jaws of a predator. Unable to speak, unable to move — just stare in horror. 

“Do you two know each other?” Karlach asked, “you didn’t mention it.”

“We are very old friends.” Jevran replied for her. “Come with me now, and I will not expose your entire group for the frauds you are: Blessed with the Absolute’s gift and turning against her.”

“You’re making a mistake,” Wyll spoke up, his rapier in hand, “you’re vastly outnumbered. No one is going anywhere with you.”

“Perhaps this then will convince you,” he produced a pouch, brown in color but dirtied with soot. The sparkle of the powder inside of it glinted; the deep gnomes smokepowder. 

“Shit,” Karlach ground out. 

“He won’t do it,” Shadowheart said casually. “An explosion of that size will kill you as well; you don’t have the stomach for it.”

“Fine,” he said plainly. He threw the pouch onto the ground, not close enough to the fire to ignite but the sparks coming off of it at risk of blowing them to bits.

A mage hand quickly snapped it up, flying towards Gale followed by a prestidigitation spell that swept the dust away with quick precision. Jevran’s hands were up in surrender, but his smile remained.

“I offer you then, a word of advice,” he spoke casually now having their rapt attention, “you travel with a devil spawn. Rooting it out serves us all: your safety and my honor.” 

“Our safety? How generous of you,” Astarion’s smile was all fangs. 

“I am no devil,” Wyll said. “You are mistaken.” 

“I don’t speak of you.” Jevran dared a step further. “I speak of her.”

He pointed at Isra.

Falduna l'Zif - Praise the Absolute Usstan kreth'el dosst sashin - I regret your loss. Dosst kreth'el zhah izilted - Your regret is appreciated.

Thank you for reading!

[aemonds-sapphire]

Make a Wish - Hawks x Reader

Summary: You finally asked Hawks to show how flying felt like; he ended up showing you a lot more.

Warnings: Fluff. Cavity-inducing fluff. Friends to lovers.

Word count: 2.1k

“Don’t drop me.”

“Oh! Thanks for reminding me,” Hawks said teasingly, spreading his arms. “Now, come here.”

Against your better judgment, you decided to ask the number two pro hero to take you on a short flight. Even after years of being friends with Hawks, it still took a leap of faith to trust him with something like this.

You didn’t budge, feet rooting you to the ground. “Promise?”

You knew deep down that he would never allow such thing to happen, but fear gripped your heart and lungs.

He wiggled his gloved fingers in an attempt to snap you out of your frozen state, beaming smile spreading his lips. “Why would I drop you? I love you!”

There it was.

Those three words that he’d often toss around mindlessly, and that you wondered far too many time whether it was just a proclamation of his friendship with you, or if there was something else underneath.

“Why are you frowning?” Hawks’ arms dropped to his sides as he stuck out his bottom lip. “You don’t love me? I’m hurt.”

You rolled your eyes at his antics. “Shut up. Let’s do this before it gets too late.”

He reached inside his aviator jacket and snatched a pair of headphones. “Put these on. I don’t want your eardrums busted.”

What a comforting thing to say to someone who was about to be swung up in the air in the middle of the night.

“Anyways! Now I’m matching with the famous pro hero Hawks,” you teased, finally getting your feet to move closer to where he stood. “I wonder what your fans would say.”

His big red wings quivered slightly. “Oh, so you think they’d be upset that I’m taking a beautiful girl on a ride?” he feigned concern before winking at you.

“Should we ask?” you grinned in defiance as you positioned the protective headphones over your ears.

He lifted his arms once more as if offering you a welcoming hug. With a deep sigh, you shortened the distance between you two. It was now or never.

You laced your arms around his neck as your chest hit his. Unfortunately for you, this was enough to get your heart to skip a beat.

“Hold up,” Hawks said, raising a brow. “I forgot to bring another eye visor for you. Damn.”

Your palms started getting sweaty from how warm he felt against you, but you had to push that aside for now.

“It’s fine. I’ll just keep my eyes closed.”

He brought his hands up to retrieve his own visor. “And miss the amazing view? Can’t have that,” he beamed while placing it snuggly on you. “Besides, I know these airways like the back of my wings.”

The visor tinted your field of vision with pale yellow, but since it was already dark, it didn’t make much of a difference.

You adjusted it across the bridge of your nose, and offered a smile before looping your arms around him again.

Hawks was staring at you like you were his pride and joy. “There! Seems like we got ourselves another winged hero.”

“Except I have no wings, you dumbass,” you noted, laughing.

“You have mine,” he winked in response. “Now, I need you to wrap your legs around my waist.”

Your smile faded slightly. Very poor choice of words.

“Just hop on me,” Hawks added, seeing the confused look on your face.

You took a deep breath and bent your knees slightly, just to have your legs spring up and circle his body just as requested.

“Good girl,” he whispered in your ear, both arms tightly holding you. “Ready?”

Your heart skipped two beats; one for because how he had just praised you, even if he hadn’t meant to make it sound like that; the other because the question he had shot at you.

You nodded, propping your chin on his shoulder, instinctively closing your eyes as he took a few steps to stand on the edge of the the rooftop of your apartment.

One hand rubbed your back for a bit as if preparing you. “This part is the worst. But it’ll get better soon.”

“Just go!” you half-shouted impatiently.

And before you could even register what was about to happen, you felt your stomach lurch upwards as he took a dive off the building.

Just as you were about to scream, you felt the air change in direction when his two colossal wings suddenly hurled you up into the night sky. Your insides rolled once again as the young man defied gravity. Was he also defying your ability to keep your food down?

The white fur that lined collar of his jacket would occasionally tickle your cheek as the wind fanned the both of you. For a while, all you could hear were the strong flaps of his wings, and even though you had been flying for a while, you couldn’t bring yourself to open your eyes.

Hawks’ grip on you never wavered, and neither did yours. Your legs were completely glued around his toned torso just like your arms kept tightening around his neck.

“You okay?” You heard his muffled voice.

You gave him a thumbs up, still keeping your eyes closed.

His hand started patting your lower back. “Open your eyes!”

How did he...

Carefully and slowly, you opened one eye at a time. Hawks had brought you so far up high that all you could see when looking down were faint rivers of city lights spreading as far as the eyes could see.

His wings drifted expertly across the chilling wind, bending into different angles whenever Hawks intended on shifting directions.

Everything was breathtaking. Your fear was replaced with excitement as you felt for the first time ever what it was like to be him.

Soon after, you watched as he started lowering himself towards a very tall building.

Both his wings shot upwards, allowing the wind to flow through them and allowing him to prepare for what came next

He gracefully landed on the rooftop, bending both wings close to his body.

A part of you was relieved, but another was ready for more.

“You know...” he started slowly, still holding you in place with his strong arms. “As much as I like this position—“

“Uh!” you huffed in annoyance as you promptly let your legs slide down his body, bringing your hand to his chest to push him away. “Pervert...”

“Just teasing you!”

His voice was coming out muffled, and you suddenly remembered you still had the headphones on; you pulled them down to rest around your neck much like Hawks would often do. The visor came off next and he took it back with a smile.

“How was it?” he was looking at you expectantly as he placed the visor on top of his head, a few strands of golden hair going astray in the process.

You flapped your hands along your jacket and pants to set everything back in place again. Your body was still coming down from that high, and you could still feel the surges of adrenaline rushing through your veins.

“Very... weird?” you said truthfully, rubbing both hands together from the cold breeze. “But in a good way! You’re approved!” you quickly added when you saw his smile waver.

“You cold? Want my jacket?”

Ever the gentleman. “Just my hands...”

He immediately slid his gloves off and handed them to you.

“No! What about you?” you asked worriedly.

“It’s okay! I’m hot,” he shrugged, wiggling his eyebrows at the not so subtle innuendo.

You stuck out your tongue at him, slipping both hands inside the warm fabric. You then turned on your heels to explore the rooftop and beautiful scenery.

“This makes me feel so...”

“Free?” you heard him suggest from behind you.

You agreed in silence. Up there it seemed like nothing could ever reach you. Then it hit you.

Hawks longed for freedom more than anyone else. It was painfully ironic how he was gifted with a set of wings, but was still caged by his own morals.

Looking up, you saw bright specs of stars sprinkled across the night sky, some of them framing a bright and round moon.

“Do you bring every single girl here?”

He chuckled, slightly taken aback by your change of topic. “Only the ones I want to impress.”

You scoffed. “You don’t need to do that to impress anyone,” the words automatically left your mouth, and you inwardly cursed at yourself for the slip.

“Oh? Is that a compliment?” Hawks took the opportunity to rub salt on the wound as it was so typical of him.

You shifted your eyes to the horizon that was lined by a row of light of a nearby city, feigning sudden interest.

“So... are you?” he drawled from beside you.

“Am I what?”

This time you turned your head to face him, and you had to mentally slap yourself as you were met with his handsome face.

He flashed you a boyish smile. “Impressed.”

“Very. Thank you for bringing me here... this is beautiful.”

You were about to shift your gaze back to admire the amazing view when his hand grasped your arm.

“Hey, you have something on your face.”

“Huh? What?” you panicked.

“Come here.”

Hawks leaned in, his brows furrowed. “Ah!”

“What?!”

He merely smiled as he brought a hand to your face, his thumb grazing your skin and sending jolts of electricity down your spine.

Oh.

You saw a thin and slightly curved strand on the tip of his finger. An eyelash.

“Make a wish,” Hawks said excitedly.

“You serious?” you widened your eyes at him, but almost did a mental backflip at the sweetness of it all.

He didn’t reply; instead, he brought his thumb close to your face.

You puckered your lips, but he promptly pressed his index finger on them effectively stopping you.

“Eyes closed,” he whispered, looking far too serious. “You’re gonna jinx it otherwise.”

You arched an eyebrow at him, but did exactly what he asked. Once more, you brought your lips together, allowing a swift breeze of air to flow through them.

Wishing upon lashes... this was so... Hawks. You quickly thought of him. No specific details... just him.

“Keep them closed.”

“Why?” You inquired suspiciously.

His face was close to yours as his hot breath fanned your skin. “You gotta wait fifteen seconds for it to stick.”

“You just made that—“

You were cut off by a pair of lips covering yours. Your eyes shot open in surprise as his mouth slanted firmly against your own, causing a wave of warmth to pool in your stomach and a faint shiver to course down your entire body.

Thinking back, you had wished for this moment for a long time. Well, not this one in particular, but your mind managed to come up with very vivid images of Hawks slamming you against a wall only to finally kiss you; or maybe as you both gazed at the sun setting just like in those romantic movies where everything always worked out in the end.

But this was so much better.

It was far better, because of how unexpected it was. Your heart was beating so fast that you could hear the rhythmic pounding in your ears. Once you got over the initial shock, you let your eyes flutter shut as he deepened the kiss, one hand at the nape of your neck, pulling you into his embrace.

Maybe this was the universe’s way of laughing at you. A moment ago you were laughing at the idea of wishing upon eyelashes. It seemed like a childish thing to do, but here you were. You had wished for him, and he was here.

Hawks’ hand splayed across your lower back as the other slid forward to have his thumb caressing your cheek.

A raw moan tore from your throat as you felt all of him pressed up against you, and Hawks followed soon after, a soft groan rumbling through his chest.

Instinctively, you dragged your hands through his thick locks, completely forgetting about the visor resting on his head. Before you could process it, you heard a loud shatter as the fragile object hit the ground.

Fuck.

You broke the kiss at once. “Oh my god... I’m sorry!”

Hawks was glaring at you through hooded golden eyes, and you swore you had never seen that hungry look on his face before. His trademark markings that framed both eyes on both corners were lightly accentuated, and that alone was enough to make him even more alluring.

“It’s fine!” he hurriedly mumbled.

He was leaning for another kiss, but then you smacked his arm as you realized what had just happened. “You asshole! What took you so long?”

“W-what?” the young pro hero looked genuinely confused. “I could say the same to you!”

You pulled him into a hug.

Hawks relaxed against your touch. “I love you.”

Those words yet again... “Do you mean it this time?”

“Always have.”

-

Masterlist

[kithtaehyung]

Last November (M)

title: last november (m) post date: december 14th, 2020, 8pm est  ⤷ revamped/extended: march 27th, 2021, 10pm est pairing: seokjin x reader(f) genre: angst, smut, exes to lovers au summary: you two broke up on good terms. even seeing each other on your friends’ yearly end-of-november trip was never awkward. so why did this trip feel so different? and why does it feel like the end of something that wasn’t even there in the first place? warnings: angst, bad puns and jokes, mutual pining, light dom/sub undertones, oral sex (m/f receiving), nipple play, hair-pulling, choking, rough sex, unprotected sex (pls be responsible!), dirty talk, spanking, creampie, seokjin is a consent king, did i say angst?, did i also say bad puns and jokes? mobile users: alt link if this doesn’t open in tumblr ➛ AO3 word count: 23.7k 24.7k !!

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On the last Friday of every November, your group of friends piled into two cars and set off into the mountains. 

Ever since you all graduated from high school years ago, everyone branched off into their individual, intricate walks of life. Different towns, different jobs, different social circles. 

But before those grand adventures started, each of you promised one thing: a yearly trip to keep the friendship alive.

This time around, you happened to be in the “decidedly more fun” car as Jimin, Taehyung, and your longtime friend Rin jammed the backseat with singing and road trip games. Since Seokjin took driver, you claimed navigator, leaving the front of the vehicle a bit muted compared to the other half. Which was fine - you always loved relaxing on the sidelines while your friends played with chaos and hilarity. 

Namjoon kept you company from time to time, too, so you weren’t completely alone in your preferred space.  

The only thing that could’ve made the ride awkward was if you and Seokjin were on bad terms. 

It wasn’t every day you found yourself sitting beside your ex, after all. 

But that simple fact didn’t phase you. The truth was that your breakup was clean and painless - a massive relief to your friends. Back then, it would have torn everyone to pieces picking sides. 

The split was so organic that you couldn’t recall an awful reason why it happened. Separation proved as natural as the changing of seasons: you had moved away for university and he powered through his own medical pursuits. Over time, the relationship simmered to a text every few days, resulting in the night in which you decided that it was better to remain friends.

What sucked was the fact that, over the course of time after the breakup, you fell for Seokjin. Annoying, charming, incredible Seokjin. 

You didn’t come to terms with it until last November, when you watched his eyes sparkle under an indigo ocean of stars and it just clicked. Agony carved into your heart some nights when you thought about nothing else, but you couldn’t admit your feelings. Not when you two decided that your river had run its course. You couldn’t risk smothering the last embers of your relationship, so radio silence remained your lonely swan song. 

Of course you wanted to admit it. You wanted to tell him. Because no matter who came after, they all fell short. Every smile flashed your way, every pair of arms wrapped around your torso, every night spent between the sheets. Nothing compared to what you got from Jin. That man created a hole in your heart that lingered in his wake, a hole through which all of your subsequent relationships plummeted. 

The truth was simple: you didn’t want to ruin what you had. Even if what you two would always be was just friends, that endgame was enough for you.

At least, that’s what you told yourself. Every night when you couldn’t sleep, and every morning when you woke up to an empty bed.

Your vision snapped into focus as your phone screen bloomed. The maps app signaled for a turn, so you relayed the direction to Seokjin, who repeated the direction out loud before following through.

Just like always.

The road in front of you melted into a different scene entirely as you recalled why he started that habit. It sprouted from one of your car rides to a diner situated on the other side of your hometown. 

During the drive, you did your best as navigator, but your boyfriend was so into the music playing that he missed some turns. One errant right later had you both terribly lost, the surrounding area swallowing the car in darkness. On instinct, you dove into defense mode, trying and failing not to outright panic.

“My maps won’t load,” you stuttered, hitting the screen with your finger, “Shit, shit, shit.”

“Don’t worry, I can just—”

“Don’t tell me not to worry,” you bit out. “Let’s just get out of here.” You hated how pure paranoia pricked at the corners of your eyes. Getting lost was completely irksome and going back home was more appealing to you than moving forward with the date. 

“Okay. I won’t,” Seokjin assured you, turning the wheel and rolling the car out from the shadowy street. “How can I help instead?”

“Oh, umm.” With grateful eyes, you stared at your boyfriend and admired his consideration. You’ve never been asked that while upset before. “You could, uh, repeat the directions before following them? That might help.” 

His lips curved into a smile, and streetlights flooded the car to bathe his sincerity in a warm glow. “Repeat directions, you got it.”

The memory faded as you blinked and observed the endless mountain range enveloping the road. Snow topped the summits in white caps; coniferous trees swallowed the steep slopes. As if reminiscence clogged your ears, the music in the car seemed louder outside your broken reverie. 

Taehyung, as always, took charge of the aux. He usually had an eclectic mix of tunes on rotation but, that time, nothing but upbeat Christmas music was queued. You had to admit: merry music coating the car windows and mountainous scenery claiming your entire vision put you in the best mood. 

It was even better when Seokjin sang along. You really did like his singing voice. 

“I like my singing voice, too.” 

Your eyes snapped toward the driver, expression freezing over as you drank in his delight. Did you really say that out loud? You knew Seokjin enough to know that he was never going to let that go. 

“Yeah, well…” You lazily swatted his grin away. “Don’t flatter yourself.” 

Seokjin chuckled, his hands comfortably resting on the wheel. “Are you offering to do that for me? It’s minimum wage, but I’d hire you.”

Rolling your eyes felt like the only appropriate response, so you did exactly that, your exasperated gaze looping around to land on your phone. “Relish this moment, Seokjin,” you advised, zooming out in the maps app to make sure you were still heading in the right direction, “Because it won’t happen again. And take the next exit. We’re almost there.” 

“Yes, yes, next exit.” You missed the smirk on his face as he scanned the roadside for the telltale sign. “Moment relished,” he quipped, “But I prefer my moments with ketchup and mustard.” 

Your groan drowned in his boisterous laughter, but the hand on your face betrayed you since it couldn’t quite cover up the glee that formed right after. 

An hour later, everyone had unloaded the vehicles at the campgrounds and pitched the tents. While Hoseok and Jungkook worked on starting the fire pit, Namjoon and Jimin took their time organizing the food and snacks. Rin had disappeared with Taehyung somewhere, but Yoongi said he spotted them taking pictures a ways off. 

“They should be helping,” he muttered. “There’s a lot to do before it gets dark out.” 

Squatting down to rotate sizzling meat on your portable grill, you waved him off. “They’re shot-swapping since it’s golden hour.” 

The silence that followed gave you pause. When you looked up in curiosity, Seokjin and Yoongi regarded you like a foreign language coated your tongue, their struggle to decipher it earning a chuckle of pity. 

“They’re both huge influencers, so they know how to take pictures. They always do this when we get together,” you explained, spinning the kebab onto another side, “And golden hour is around sunrise and sunset. It looks like everything is soaked in gold, and it makes your pictures look pretty. But that’s an old term already! You geezers should keep up.” 

Yoongi simply raised an eyebrow and kneeled to turn his designated stick. Smoke from the charred meat wafted into your noses as he declined, “I’ll pass. That sounds stressful.” 

A rapid clapping of tongs next to your ear preceded Seokjin’s offer, “What are we waiting for? Let’s golden hour swap!” 

Why did he have to be so endearing? A cough escaped your throat, disjointed laughs following right after in their awkward escape. Beside you, Yoongi flung condescension Jin’s way, his voice stocked with disappointment as he warned, “Don’t speak. You age yourself.” 

You transferred your kebabs to a foiled plate before standing, blood rushing to your lower legs. Seokjin was unleashing a hearty tirade at the other man grilling when you intervened, “That sounds nice, actually. I’m in a photography class so I was planning on taking some photos anyways. Lemme just get my camera.” 

As you walked away, you couldn’t escape the abrupt change in atmosphere hovering over the grills, its looming tension caressing the back of your coat in a slight push. The words exchanged were soft in volume, but their possible meanings stayed clanging in your ears. 

“Did you tell her yet?” 

“No.” 

“Do it. She deserves to know.” 

You slipped out of your tent with a heavy jacket and lightheadedness. Medicine would’ve helped with the latter, but the med kit Seokjin packed remained strictly for emergencies. Besides, you couldn’t quite slap a bandage on what was truly bothering you anyways. 

As you inspected your class-registered Polaroid, you continued to wonder what Yoongi meant earlier. 

What was he implying? You deserved to know what? You couldn’t say the feeling swirling around your gut was a positive one. After all, there was a distinct difference in what a person should know, and what a person deserved to know. What was so important that Yoongi practically ordered Seokjin to spill? 

Was there another person in his life now? That was one thing that crossed your mind, but you filed that under the “should know” category, even though it twisted your stomach to think about.

The news had to be something urgent. 

Was Seokjin getting married? 

Without your permission, vessels in your heart shriveled, squeezing life from your already battered soul. A betrothal was entirely possible with his pursuit of a medical degree and coming from a well-to-do family. Maybe he was in an arrangement? 

That possibility dropped an anvil on your chest. You couldn’t say that you were completely fine were that the truth. How could you be fine with something like that if you loved him? Of course, you would be happy if he was, but your heart would require recuperation for an extended amount of time. Give or take a few years. 

You wandered so far into the depths of your mind that Seokjin’s sudden appearance kicked you back to shore, a yelp leaving your mouth at the same time your Polaroid left your hands. If the camera wasn’t hanging from your neck, you would’ve been in deep shit with your professor as soon as it hit the cold soil. 

Its bulky frame definitely bruised your lower chest on the downswing, though. “Ow. Geez, Jinnie, you can’t just sneak up on people like that.” 

Your eyes widened in realization. Jinnie? Shit, you hadn’t called him that since you guys were dating. Quite obviously, the stockpile of thoughts and worries involving his secret were blocking your brain from better judgment. 

And apparently you weren’t the only one affected by that nickname because Seokjin’s eyebrows shot into his dark locks, his peculiar glance shifting away. Odd. 

After an awkward second, he cleared his throat. “Does it hurt?” 

Is it supposed to? You knew he was inquiring about your injury but your thoughts drifted to what hadn’t been divulged yet. “No, it’s fine,” you lied. “Let’s pick a spot before we lose the light.” 

You don’t remember how long you walked, but the pair of you ended up far from the original campsite. 

In your defense, it wasn’t like you planned that outcome. The trees matched at every turn, so you kept wandering until you found a good clearing - or at least some rocks to break the forested monotony. 

A foil to your pickiness, Seokjin voiced his thoughts every ten paces, his votes of confidence constantly crushed by your boots. If you had a cent for every time he declared a spot “the one,” you could actually afford the Polaroid dangling from your neck. 

It was at a calm clearing with some patches from last snowfall where you decided to settle. 

Unhooking the strap from your neck, you ushered, “Let’s do this quick. It’s almost over.” 

“I wanna do it first!” You thought Seokjin meant to take the camera from you, but instead he scuttled into the clearing, striking a pose once he reached its center. Of course the fool meant that he wanted his pictures taken and not the other way around. How was any other idea plausible? “Hurry up, you said!” 

“The ‘S’ in Seokjin stands for ‘Selfish,’” you yelled, positioning the Polaroid against your eye regardless. His face enlarged in the lens and, to his credit, you couldn’t argue that he was the clear model between you two. The man could pursue a career in fashion instead of medicine and you wouldn’t bat an eye. 

He looked handsome merely standing there, cheeks dimpling at nothing in particular and his charm ever effortless. Even the slight bags under his eyes didn’t take away from his natural beauty. 

Par for the course with Seokjin. That unbothered self-assurance was one of the traits you liked and hated about him. 

At least, initially. The more you got to know him, your outlook on that defining characteristic was one of admiration, not hatred. You simply needed to start shoving some of that confidence down your own throat like a different type of vitamin C.

After a telltale camera snap, the man threw out his coated arms in another pose. “And the ‘Seok’ stands for ‘Seok in my presence!’” 

“I think I’ve been in it long enough. My fingers are pruny,” you droned while lowering your Polaroid, ignoring his wiggling in the background. It seemed you were still accustomed to his ridiculousness. 

Yet another thing you gave him credit for: he was never afraid to be a dork. When you first met him, you admittedly thought he was faking it. Over time, you recognized his authenticity, and you grew fond of everything wrapped in the gift that was Kim Seokjin.

You waited for the picture to materialize in your hand. When your impatient model approached you and asked why you weren’t shaking the polaroid, you informed him that you should, in fact, not do that. “It’ll damage the final product!” 

“So that song is…” 

“Wrong. Yes.” 

Pure shock flashed across his face. “What other lies have I been told?”  

The captured memory started blossoming, and you watched as the color bled into life. “That you aren’t the funniest person on the planet,” you answered, earning a scoff. 

“In that case, you’ve just been misinformed.” Seokjin huffed before offering an outstretched palm. “Now hand over the camera, it’s your turn.”

“Me?” You didn’t think he was serious when he said swap. In reality, you just assumed he whipped up an excuse for you to take pictures of him. 

And you didn’t mind. It was nice to have that charming smile directed at you, even if only through the lens of a camera. The Polaroid would be your shield, blocking Seokjin from the pain swimming in your eyes, barely afloat in pools of regret and guilt and loneliness.

“Yes, woman! When was the last time you had your picture taken?” 

Slowly, embarrassment swelled across your cheeks when you realized it had been a very long time. Legitimately long. You never asked others to take your picture; rather, you were always the one behind the lens. The last time someone actually offered was… 

“When you took one,” you stuttered out breathily, “At that park.” 

It was during one of the last dates you two went on before you left for university. There was a carnival you were dying to visit, and Seokjin surprised you with tickets and a kiss. 

You remember being so elated while traversing through the whimsical booths, failing fantastically at the rigged games, scarfing down sticky, billowy cotton candy. Squeaky horns and childish laughter filled your ears, and you could still feel Jin’s gentle fingers on your hand as he shyly tugged you under glowing stringed lights. 

The main attraction was a carousel keeping everything else in orbit, its charisma shining like a golden, spinning sun. When night fell, you too gravitated toward its charm, standing behind its barricade to watch horses and teacups endlessly turn. 

It was so captivating that you forgot yourself and where you were - who you were supposed to be spending time with. Swiveling in fear, you scanned the bustling crowd for your boyfriend, realizing that you needn’t worry at all. 

Seokjin simply waited behind you, holding up his phone and telling you to pose. You were so caught off-guard in that moment that your face contorted hilariously right as he snapped the photo. In his eyes, it was the greatest picture of all time. 

However, it wasn’t that well received by its subject. You begged Seokjin to delete it, and he finally caved on the grounds that you took a replacement. Conceding, you stomped back to the gate guarding the twirling attraction and pranked your boyfriend with a blank expression. 

But as soon as Seokjin drawled “You look like you don’t care-ousel,” you burst into laughter - your unabashed mirth becoming his background on every device he owned. 

The scene faded from your eyes as the current Seokjin stood in front of you, gripping the Polaroid instead of his phone. Gone were the lights and sounds of the theme park and, with them, your fleeting moment of solace. 

“Oh,” was all he stated in return, and you swore the temperature chose to drop in that moment just to mock you.

“You know I don’t prefer it anyways.” Your heart was losing its grip, sorrow evident in your shaky tone. You folded your arms to shield your body from the weather and unwanted emotions. “I’m definitely not as photogenic as you.” 

“Nonsense,” Seokjin shot back. “Now hurry up, it’s only golden minute now!” 

And just like that, his warmth melted any awkwardness like spring chasing away winter. 

In retrospect, he probably regarded that moment at the carnival differently, or he just wanted to keep those memories in the past where they belonged. It hurt to be the only one so strongly affected by them, but Jin had the right idea. If there existed a standard list of activities to do with an ex, talking about the past wasn’t one of the options. Especially if you had feelings for said ex. 

Plus, you didn’t forget that there was something he had to tell you. It seemed like you were going to have to wait a little longer for that, and your anxiousness wasn’t pleased.  

As you ambled to the center of the clearing, you focused more on the crunching sounds your boots made rather than your feelings. With a quick survey of the area, you surmised that it really was a pretty spot, the mountain range peeking behind the trees adding depth to the setting. Adjusting your outfit, you took a breath of courage before staring at the eye of the Polaroid.

Seokjin moved the camera from his face and called your name, roping your gaze to his concern. “Smile, okay?” 

On instinct, your throat constricted. You couldn’t hide behind the lens that time. But smile you did, and you hoped Seokjin thought it genuine, silently pleading him to not notice the anguish lingering behind your crescent eyes. 

The fire pit your friends constructed blazed bright as you both made it back to the campgrounds. Everyone occupied the surrounding logs and, judging from the soft pop pumping from a portable speaker, Jungkook must have commandeered music control.

Jimin turned when he heard your footsteps, his expression indiscernible as he shifted his gaze between you and Jin. Thankfully, he didn’t say anything, only turning back to Yoongi to continue their conversation. 

Seokjin and you parted ways effortlessly: he slotted into the empty space next to Namjoon and you headed to your tent to stow your camera. 

And for some reason, that easy departure was hard to swallow. 

Your pitched space offered warmth upon entry, and you dumped yourself onto your sleeping bag without a word. A few quiet moments passed before you unzipped your backpack, the tiny action feeling so tedious, so difficult to achieve. 

After you finally stored your equipment and closed your bag shut, you just… sat there. Contemplative. 

Mentally, you were in a bad place. Your thoughts and emotions banged into each other, their war rendering you powerless - captive. Fidgeting with the plasticky fabric of your sleeping bag, you thought back to what happened after you two left the photo spot.

It was an uneventful walk back for the most part. The polaroids turned out nice, all thanks to the very rare and very expensive camera you borrowed. Seokjin claimed yours and handed you his, and faced with your sudden curiosity, he sheepishly offered, “You don’t have to keep it.” 

You were more questioning of the fact that he stored yours in his jacket, but you didn’t want to broach that subject. It was beginning to scare you. Maybe it was the fact that he was acting strange, coupled with the other fact that he was hiding something from you. 

Why were you suddenly afraid to confront him? You two were open with each other during your relationship. Were you also wanting to put this dreaded conversation off as long as possible, too? 

If he was with someone else, though, would he still be keeping your picture? 

It was too much to think about, so you tried to lock everything in a box and sit on it. 

You saw the light of the campfire after a few minutes of walking through the woods - a handful of silent, crawling minutes. It was bugging you that Seokjin didn’t say anything on the way back. A quiet Jin was a Jin knee deep in thought, and not in good circumstance. In a moment of weakness, you almost offered out your hand to grab his, but you instead crammed it inside your coat pocket. 

When you both rejoined your friends, it seemed so easy for you guys to separate, like you didn’t just go off and do something so intimate. Even though that wasn’t the word you wanted to use. 

You resigned yourself to the big picture nonetheless: it wasn’t like what Taehyung and Rin did. Your best friend was insanely popular on social media with her carefully curated feed and relatable-yet-unachievable style. Taehyung had his own massive following for different reasons, and you couldn’t deny that he knew exactly what he was doing to gain the hearts of many. They were snapping photos for each other to show millions of anonymous beings across the world. 

You and Seokjin just took photos for each other to have. No one else was going to see those. 

Why did you feel like that was significant? 

The edge of your sleeping bag began to fray under duress, so you plucked your body off the ground and slipped back outside. What you expected was the temperature dipping a couple degrees in nightfall. What you didn’t expect was Jimin waiting for you, puffy jacket and all, leaning against a tree. 

When he saw you emerge from your tent, he straightened and regarded you with caution. “Everything okay?”

You adjusted the front of your coat before fishing a beanie out to cover your ears. “Yeah, why?”

“You were just in there for awhile,” Jimin explained, his eyes searching yours, “And you were with him for a long time.”

“I don’t like being interrogated, Park,” you sighed.

“I know, I just…” He mirrored you and huffed his own breath toward the ground. A quick glance had you noticing that his own beanie was knit as thick as the fog in your mind. “I just want to make sure.” 

Jimin was whom you considered closest next to your best friend and formerly Seokjin. After your break up, Jimin regularly sent you texts to check on you, despite your constant assurance that you were okay. It got to a point where you phoned him and pleaded reprieve - to reach out only if he had something critical to say. 

His broken reply? He only texted you because Seokjin wouldn’t. 

You ended up crying after that call, and the tears annoyingly persisted a couple nights following. 

He was also one of the only two people in the world that knew you loved Jin. Rin was the other, and that’s only because you let it slip during a girls’ night over cheap wine and period piece movies. Something about an early morning confession in a dewy meadow was enough to loosen your alcohol-mottled tongue.

After you ran your fingers over your head, you responded, “Can I ask you something?” 

Your friend’s eyes roamed over your face. “Of course.”

“What’s he hiding from me?”

Jimin instantly clammed up at the question. His dancer frame assumed a rigid position, each limb locking, including his jaw. “It’s not my place to say,” he answered gravely, pulling anger from your center.

“Does everyone else know this secret except me?” You really couldn’t take it anymore, especially knowing that something you supposedly deserved to know was possibly public knowledge. 

“Just the guys,” Jimin divulged, and you scoffed. 

“I can’t believe this.” You made to walk away, in the opposite direction of the campfire. Into the woods again.

Jimin said your name like he just wanted you to understand already, halting you mid-stride. “I’ve been trying to get him to talk to you. Trust me, I have.”

“He’s a grown man, Park. His decisions aren’t your problem,” you whispered. 

“But aren’t they yours?” 

“Not anymore. We aren’t together right now, if you don’t recall.” You knew you were spitting bullshit, and Jimin did, too. If Seokjin wasn’t giving you problems, you wouldn’t have been hiding in your tent or literally and figuratively walking away from him. Guiltily, you turned back to face Jimin and give him his credit. 

He was this way for everyone in your group: the glue that hung on and fought to keep people from breaking apart. Whenever a fight broke out between warring parties, Jimin was the middle man. Always. 

Sighing, you relented, “I’m sorry I’m taking this out on you. I’m just so confused, and the longer he hides whatever he’s hiding from me, the more restless I’ll be.”

“Everyone is on your side in this,” Jimin replied. “He just needs to, I don’t know, woman up.”

A breath of laughter escaped you at the tweaked phrase, the tension coating your shoulders slowly sliding off in clumps. “Did you say ‘woman up?’”

“Men aren’t shit,” your friend explained, pointing a gloved finger to punctuate every syllable. “At least women get things done.”

“I would totally drink to that if I had a bottle in my hand, Jimin.”

“Ah, well that can be arranged!” The boy’s eyes crinkled as he spun on a heel. “Let’s go. Jungkook and Taehyung brought out the drinks awhile ago. I missed out on a few bottles already talking to you.”

“Oh, I feel so remorseful,” you cooed, your voice worthy of giving kids cavities. “Almost as if I cared.” 

“Ass,” Jimin snapped, but he could only laugh. When you joined his side, he turned and whispered, “But seriously. If he doesn’t talk about it by the end of this trip, I’m giving him hell.” 

The temperature dropped again at that moment, and the wind blowing through the pines cut straight into your bones. Your shoulders hunched on instinct and you blinked to get needed moisture. Was it going to snow? The skies above did look intimidating. Was it going to storm? 

A sudden trepidation settled into your gut. “Did we check the weather,” you queried, shuffling through your brain to see if you monitored it yourself before the trip. 

“Uh-umm, I did,” Jimin answered through chattering teeth, “But I didn’t see anything other than it being cold.” 

You pulled out your phone and regretted doing so, your fingers freezing over instantly. You were lucky you all chose a location that was still in signal range - really, thanks went to Rin and Taehyung for incessantly demanding it every year.

Pulling up the weather app after a few tries, you cursed at the oncoming forecast. “Well, there’s more to it. Snow’s coming in,” you relayed to Jimin. “Let’s pack up and find a place to stay.” 

The car ride to the nearest lodging felt immensely different than the ride to the campgrounds. Some people focused on defrosting, one person worried about the people in the front, and the two said people in the front weren’t talking at all. 

It was you that broke the silence when you steadily gave directions, and Seokjin would repeat them like always. Selfishly, you wanted the car ride to keep going just so you could hear his voice. He wasn’t saying anything otherwise, and there wasn’t music playing for him to absentmindedly sing along to. 

The first snowfall was light as your caravan entered the small town nearby, which relieved you. Tiny snowflakes clung onto the windows and you lost yourself in their geometric patterns. Lights from the shops and other stray cars reflected in the slick roads to create a symphony of color, and white patches already settled on trees that lined the main way. 

Seokjin spotted the lodge first, and he rolled into a spot towards the entrance, Jungkook’s car slotting into the next space. Your driver rolled down his window and repeatedly pointed his finger down to signal for Yoongi to follow suit. “Let’s go in and make sure they have our rooms first,” he called out, and Jungkook leaned over his console to shout a hearty okay.

You hoisted yourself out of the car and waited for the boys to follow. Seokjin went to stand next to you, but instead of Jungkook popping out of the other car, it was Namjoon that emerged. You could only guess that the youngest slyly started a game to have the loser get out. 

Your stomach turned when you realized it was most likely because no one wanted to be left alone with you and Seokjin. 

Remorse burned your throat. This trip was supposed to be fun, but it just felt strained. Were you overthinking? Or was your churning gut correct in its assumption? 

At the very least, you hoped everyone else was having a better time than you were. 

It seemed that the man beside you had the same feeling that a challenge was pitched. “Rock-paper-scissors? Or nose goes?”

Namjoon just laughed at the ground as his face flushed. “Nose goes, and I put my finger on my mouth so, umm, that’s that.” 

You chuckled while you three made your way to the door, both of them towering over you on either side. Seokjin opened the entrance for everyone and, when you stepped foot inside, you were hit with a wave of warmth mixed with an undercurrent of gingerbread. The entirety of the main entrance bathed in plaid or embroidered throws, and there was an obvious affinity for Christmas on display with the plethora of garlands, lights, and a towering Christmas tree in the front bay window. 

Namjoon and Seokjin quickly got distracted by the toy train running through a snowy village setup. Adorable, but not helpful. 

Alone at the front desk, you received confirmation that your group had four bookings, and you thanked the concierge while you gathered the keys. 

The rooms weren’t next to each other. One of them sat on another floor, and the rest were separated but shared the same level. 

A container of pamphlets caught your attention, so you grabbed one before strolling away. “Guys, let’s claim our rooms. After that, you can watch the train all you want,” you called out, tapping them both on the back with the thin brochure. 

They swiveled their heads to your retreating form before following you out the door. 

“No. We are not doing that again.” 

“Come on, hyung, it’ll be fun!” 

“I’m with Yoongi on this one. We could all end up in the same room.” 

“But what if you get a room to yourself?” 

“Why can’t we ever just pick like normal people? And Hoseok-hyung, you laugh but you have the worst luck out of all of us.” 

“Excuse me! That’s only because you all psyche me out!” 

“Let’s just pick something. My phone’s almost dead.” 

You stood next to Rin while you two watched the boys decide how room assignments were determined. It was a sight to see: them crowding the small hallway, bags littered around their bulky shoes. You both were thankful they were courteous enough to let you two keep a room to yourselves. They even made sure yours wasn’t on the other floor, just so that you girls wouldn’t be alone. 

They were going to pick random rooms one-by-one, not knowing which options the others picked until they opened a door. If you and your friend also had to choose, you were risking the possibility of being stuck with Seokjin, which was the last thing you wanted. 

On a day where your friendship was actually normal, that wouldn’t have mattered one bit. But right then? The tension surrounding him would have been detrimental. 

He had something to say; he wasn’t saying it. You were a sitting, fidgeting duck. 

Jungkook whipped his phone out to search the internet for a random coin flip generator. “Here. Heads, we do it. Tails, we don’t.” 

Yoongi just snickered in defeat and already started picking up his bag. “I call picking first.” 

His intuition proved sharp as the generator pulled up Heads: they were going with the random room assignments. Taehyung kicked his head back with a sigh, and Jimin and Jungkook burst into laughter while the elders collectively groaned.  

As Rin giggled at their misfortune, you sent a rueful smile Seokjin’s way out of habit. You were still friends, after all, and he seemed so distraught over the prospect of horrid results. His eyes locked onto yours and, for a brief moment, he offered a shy grin in return.

The fluttering in your chest was quickly shooed away. 

It was while everyone relaxed around a public lounge area that Jungkook hurled an accusation, his eyes alight with the flames licking the nearby fireplace. “Hyung cheated.” 

Seokjin immediately sat up in his plush chair and retorted, “Take that back! I did nothing of the sort. You all were just too lazy to take the stairs to the next floor.”

Taehyung shot him a side eye and shared his own eloquent opinion. “Seems sus.” 

A whole new wave of bickering erupted, and you redirected your attention to the snow storm blustering outside tall windows. 

You were thanking every deity above that you guys decided to leave in time. It would’ve been hell in the campsite during this weather, or even while squeezed into the cars. 

Though the original plans were derailed, you were pretty happy with the current lodging situation. Who knew a small town would have a humongous lodge? It had to be assumed that this was the main business keeping the town running. Rin was absolutely drinking it in and stated she even wanted to bring her family there, her thoughtfulness curving your mouth upwards.

Another good thing that came out of this trip proved to be the room assignments that Jungkook ended up loathing. They had you clutching your sides when all was said and done.

Four of the boys managed to pick the same room, and Hoseok and Yoongi snagged a room to themselves. These results resulted in one Kim Seokjin speeding up and down the hallway, wholeheartedly shouting with glee. Yoongi almost crumpled to the ground in relief at the end, and Hoseok fell over in laughter when he entered the full room. You could feel the desperation in Namjoon’s muffled voice as he begged Seokjin to let him change rooms. The only reply he received was an ominous “If you behave.” 

“Don’t blame us,” Yoongi laughed out, both hands lightly gripping the arms of the rocking chair he chose. “This is what you young people get for trying to be cute.” His relief from only having to bunk with one other person left him chipper, you noticed. To his credit, it was amusing that the youngest four ended up in the same room. 

“Okay, gramps,” Jungkook snapped, earning a laugh from Jimin on the seat next to him. “But she definitely gave hyung clues!” 

You whipped your head around to shoot a confused look toward your accuser. “Me?” 

Multiple eyes darted between you two like pinballs, and you didn’t have time to brace for his next words,

“You know you won’t see him again after this trip, so you—” 

“—Kook!” 

All oxygen abandoned you as Jimin rushed to shut the younger man’s mouth, practically slapping his face. Eyes popped out of his head as Jungkook paled in realization. 

The rest of the boys bore glares into the youngest one’s countenance, but Seokjin turned directly towards you with concern. 

What just happened? Your fingers gripped the varnished wood of your chair as you slowly locked eyes with your ex, and your heart dropped like a stone when he shifted his gaze to the floor. 

What the fuck was happening? Your brain was going haywire. What did Jungkook mean? You wouldn’t see Seokjin after this trip? The man that you couldn’t wait to see on the last Friday of every November? That was bogus. He was joking. It was a joke, right? One more weekend before Seokjin was gone from your life forever? Impossible. Ludicrous.

Why wasn’t anyone saying anything? 

Beside you, Rin clutched one of your tense fists in her soft palms. Addressing the group, her sharp tone demanded an answer when she asked, “What the hell is going on?” 

The silence that followed was palpable. Not even the pleasant music drifting through the lodge was enough to damper the tension. 

“I think,” Yoongi finally murmured, his words ice, “This is our cue to leave.”  

“No need,” your friend snipped, “We’ll go.” She whispered your name before softly tugging you to vacate your seat. 

When you pried yourself from the cushion, it took a moment for you to control your legs to actually move. You knew all the guys were watching you, but you were too embarrassed to acknowledge them, too upset to look any of them in the eye. 

Rin led you away from the lounge, making sure you were heading toward the nearest staircase before spinning on her heel. “To the unfortunate soul that gets to explain this to me,” she bit, clutching everyone’s attention in her underlying threat, “Text me where to meet you in ten minutes.” 

Both you and Rin occupied the carpet, backs against the cookie cutter sofa that existed in each room. 

You two pushed the furniture around so that the couch faced the windows instead of the plain TV, and you surprised your friend by dumping yourself onto the ground instead of the cushions. Rin didn’t question you, though. She only followed suit. 

The curtains were shoved to the side to reveal the relentless storm, and you watched the swirls and streaks of white until your head fell onto Rin’s shoulder. 

“I should’ve been paying attention to you,” she murmured, “I’m sorry.”

You shook your head, the motion feeling awkward in its tilt. “No, no. You’ve been having a fun time, so I’m happy I didn’t ruin that.” Your laugh was dry. “Until now, at least.”

Rin lowered her shoulder so that you rested more comfortably. “How are you feeling?” 

“Like I’m going through a breakup again.”

Fuck. You didn’t realize until the words left your lips that it’s how you really felt. 

It had been a few years since you guys ended things. Throughout that whole time, you didn’t feel awkward one bit.  

Well, that wasn’t entirely true. The “date” that Seokjin brought to the Christmas party last year made you want to tear your hair out. But, that was because she was obviously after his finances and that was the year you realized you loved him. 

The conversation you had with Seokjin turned sour, but you really wanted him to see the big picture. You could still recall that night with clarity, the snow falling much lighter than what you currently witnessed outside. 

“Seokjin, do you honestly think she likes you?” The red dress you wore was so vibrant that it glinted off the dinnerware spread across the decadent table nearby. 

When you pulled your ex aside that night, the only quiet place you could find was the dining room, long abandoned once everyone got their seconds. Up until this point, it was obvious Seokjin wasn’t understanding you. You tried to tell him how you saw it, and he would just brush things aside. 

“You sound like you care more than I do,” he accused, his eyes looking everywhere but your face.

Before you responded, you scoffed. “I’m your friend. Of course I’m going to care.” 

You remember the strong emotions you suppressed that night. You couldn’t let more things slip than necessary. Yes, you could show him you cared. Yes, you could show him he needed someone else. Just as long as you didn’t give too much of your own feelings for him away. “You deserve someone that at least likes you, for you.” 

Seokjin finally stared back at your stormy features, his eyes filled with something unsaid. You sucked in a breath. What else would he say? You liked him for everything he was, but that relationship didn’t pan out. Obviously. You would’ve been going to this Christmas party together if you still dated. 

Maybe you shouldn’t have been having that conversation - it was already hard enough for you to say you were his friend. You wanted to be more than that. Again. 

“I know she doesn’t like me,” he finally admitted, running a hand through his bangs. The urge to caress his ever soft strands filled you with grief. 

You really did like his hair, and it looked even better when coupled with his Nutcracker-esque attire. 

“Then why…” You struggled to find a reason why they were even there together. It was a Christmas party with your friends. Why would he bring someone that he didn’t like? 

“She’s interested in Namjoon.” Seokjin’s eyes quickly turned into crescents when he witnessed your expression, and his full lips pursed to contain his laughter. “I was trying to get her off me the whole night, but she was trying harder than she needed to to make him jealous. I’m irresistible, you know.” 

“Irritable is more like it,” you growled, playfully shoving him aside. “Ass! I was just trying to protect you and you knew this whole time!” 

“It’s nice to know you’re looking out for me!” The man beamed as he made his way out of the dining room. 

“Yeah, well,” you whispered, tensing slightly when he stopped. “They have to be perfect. It’s what you deserve.” And you really did mean that.  

Seokjin’s smile faltered, and you shot him a half-smile before exiting the room yourself. 

That was the last time you guys had an argument, if you could even call it that. The rest of the moments you had with him were completely fine. You wondered if Seokjin could see through you during that conversation. He was perceptive, sure, but you may have gotten away with looking like just a good friend. 

It was just worrisome since you couldn’t control your emotions that night. You only got to see him in person during these November trips and Christmas parties when you went home, after all. Seeing him again after realizing you loved him ignited something within you, and it took the whole night to put that fire out.

This looming news just felt way too heavy to handle. Was it because you reached where the sidewalk ended? You weren’t going to see his face in person or hear his laugh out loud. There wasn’t going to be off-the-cuff, awful dad jokes thrown your way every end of November. 

A nagging idea, far in the depths of your mind, kept tapping your shoulder. But you brushed it off with a scowl. 

Even if you acknowledged the concept, there was no way Seokjin felt the same about you. Neither one of you said you loved each other throughout the time you were dating. Were there times you thought you did? Admittedly, yes. Did you ever think about telling him? Another yes. But he never hinted that he felt the same, so it would’ve been awkward for you if it turned out he didn’t. The absence of a confession kept you from revealing yours. So of course even now, you couldn’t tell him. Especially since he was apparently leaving.

Rin didn’t speak for awhile, but you knew she wasn’t the best at comforting people. She was number one at standing up for you and protecting you, but when it came to the softer parts of consoling, she did flounder. Which was endearing and calming in itself.

“How can I help,” she simply offered, and you nuzzled further into her neck. She always smelled so nice, your guardian Rin.

The adrenaline from Jungkook’s bombshell, your swift exit, and the constant stream of thoughts started to wane. Exhaustion slowly took its place like honey sliding into a jar. Softly, your eyelids drooped and you whispered, “This room is a castle, so be my big bad dragon and don’t let anyone in.” 

The last sound you heard before falling asleep was a tinkling laugh followed by a small “As you wish, princess.” 

When you regained consciousness, you discovered that you were strewn across one of the beds instead of the ground. You couldn’t even estimate how much time passed while you were out, but the storm outside was still thrashing and the only light in the room was the emergency one by the door. 

You groggily propped up weary limbs in search of your phone, eventually swiping it from the nightstand. Still half-asleep, you barely registered the pain meds and glass of water sitting on that same table, their dark silhouettes waiting patiently. 

Bright pixels mocked your drool-covered chin. Scrunching your face instinctively, you scrolled through your notifications while blinking sleep from your lashes. You received multiple texts, but you didn’t want to open the threads completely, so you opted to check them from the Home screen. 

Jiminie [7:20pm]: Fuck, I’m sorry that happened. Please be okay. Love you.

Tae [7:21pm]: free hugs whenever you need. you know the drill. 

Rin-Rin [7:36pm]: I know you said not to let anyone in but I literally couldn’t carry you to the bed. Forgive me!

Yoongi [7:37pm]: He’s in his room. I kept telling him to tell you. I know it’s shit to find out this way so if he doesn’t explain things to you, I will. 

Hobi [7:39pm]: we’re here for u love!! let me know if u need anything. there’s a small concession stand downstairs so if u need smth i can run it up!!

Jiminie [7:40pm]: Kook is in bad shape. He swore he thought hyung told you already. Don’t worry tho. I’m not letting him off easy.

Rin-Rin [7:43pm]: Hey, love. Just spoke to Seokjin. I think you need to talk to him yourself, but only if you feel up for it. 

Joonie [7:45pm]: I gave Rin a bottle of pain meds we had in our room 

Joonie [7:45pm]: Go ahead and take some when you wake up

Joonie [7:45pm]: We can count this as an emergency

Jiminie [8:21pm]: Let me know if you’re okay, okay?

Kook [8:33pm]: I’m so sorry 

Rin-Rin [8:48pm]: Grabbing us some snacks from downstairs, I’ll brb. 

Your battered heart sank even more when you noticed a distinct absence amongst the names. Seokjin didn’t send you a single message. 

What had gotten into him? Did he still not want to talk to you despite you knowing his secret? You clicked your phone shut without opening any of the messages and sunk into the pillows. It was 8:49pm, so you had barely missed Rin’s departure. Her exit was probably what woke you. 

Unwittingly, you found your device in front of your baggy eyes again, berating yourself for hovering over Seokjin’s thread. The last text he sent stared back at you in a mocking set of pixels. 

Kim JokeJin [Thursday, 9:23pm]: Let’s make this one the best one! 

With the previous context, this was just a regular message about the yearly trip. With the right context, these words tied your throat in a knot.  

You were sure you loved him, but what you were feeling now was even stronger. If you were honest with yourself, you would say that this is what yearning truly felt like, what something deeper than love felt like. 

But you were a fool and a liar, so you convinced yourself it was only because you wouldn’t see him again. 

As soon as you were about to give up and lock your phone, the thread updated with a new text from Seokjin, and you stilled. 

Kim JokeJin [8:51pm]: You’re probably still asleep, so I don’t want to wake you. 

You immediately clicked on his message, your anxiousness protected by the absence of Read receipts. The typing bubble kept popping in and out of the screen and, with bated breath, you waited to see if a second text slid into the thread. A hard exhale whooshed from your throat when the second message came through. 

Kim JokeJin [8:53pm]: But I owe you an explanation so come up when you can. 

Fingers locked your phone in an instant when the door creaked on its hinges. Rin entered with an armful of chips and various candy bars, and as you started to get up, she tutted.  

“Sit down, lady.” Packages crinkled as she dumped them onto your covered legs in a processed, sweet and salty heap. “Did you take the medicine?” 

You shook your head, very sure that you looked like a cranky Troll doll. 

“Go ahead and eat something really quick so the medicine will work. When you’re awake enough…” Rin’s voice trailed off, but you filled in the blanks yourself. Go talk to him was what she wanted to say. 

“Can’t you just tell me what he said?” You were hopeful that Rin would save you the pain of confronting Seokjin yourself. In reality, she denied your request. 

“Not this time,” she murmured, “This is something that needs to come from him.” 

You figured as much, but it didn’t hurt to try getting out of it. It was a conversation that you both wanted and dreaded to have. Under your goosebumps, your bones trembled.

If you were frightened by the mere gist of it, how were you going to react to the real thing?

The reality was that you needed the closure Seokjin was offering. You didn’t think this vacation - or your friendship, for that matter - could regain normalcy until you had this talk. “Sorry I ruined this trip,” you whispered, playing with a corner of the closest bag of chips. 

“I’m sorry, is your name ‘Jungkook?’” Rin laughed. “I’m kidding. It’s not ruined. At the very least, it’s salvageable. Maybe.”

“You should be a weather girl with these confident forecasts,” you joked, coaxing a laugh from your friend. You offered a small smile in return, but your heart wasn’t in it. She kinda forgot that this is the last trip you guys would have with Seokjin. If anything, it was doomed from the start. 

Little striations ran across the door greeting you, shallow cuts skirting up and down the frame. You roved your eyes over the rough texture; contemplative, lost in the mahogany brown expanse. 

If only you were a sturdy tree. You wouldn’t have to worry about any hard conversations in life. All you would’ve had to worry about was possibly becoming a rickety chair for a spoiled brat, or one of Namjoon’s tables that he would eventually damage and lament over. 

With a breath, you finally knocked. 

It didn’t take long for Seokjin’s freshly showered form to answer, and when you saw him dressed down to a plain white shirt and black pants, you quickly shifted your eyes to the floor. Didn’t he know that outfit was your favorite? Your weakness? 

“Hey,” you simply said. “I’m awake now.” 

He nodded and let you in, the door closing with a soft click. When you crossed the room, you stopped in front of the couch, anticipation already caking onto your clothes. There wasn’t much to say on your end, you figured, so Seokjin had to take the lead. 

Instead of launching into topic, he walked towards you and grabbed a bottle from his nightstand. “Do you want some water?” 

You could only stare at the plastic in question. “Did I come here for water, Seokjin?” 

There was a heavy pause before the man planted his offering on the nightstand. “No.” Sitting on the longer side of his bed, he clasped his hands together, blank eyes glued to the floor. “Jungkook is right. I won’t be able to go on these trips anymore.” 

“Why?” 

“I, umm,” Seokjin answered, his words fumbling, “I kinda got into Harvard Medical School.” 

“What?” Your anxiousness was forgotten as you gawked at him. That was what he was holding back from you? All this time? That amazing, fantastic, crazy news? Without thinking, you bounded toward him and crushed him in a hug, careful to not push him back onto the bed. “Seokjin! This is what you couldn’t tell me?” 

His arms remained at his sides. When he responded, his explanation bounced onto your shoulder, “I literally won’t have a life once I start. None of you will be able to see this face, isn’t that enough to be sad about?” 

Another moment of weakness came over you, and instead of overcoming it, you gave in. Your arms tightened around him and you whispered, “No, I’m so happy for you. You’ve worked so hard…” 

There were bags under his eyes for a reason. You knew the nights he got three hours of sleep far outweighed the nights he got more than that. The reason you two didn’t get to see each other was his relentless studying and discipline, and you didn’t want him to have to choose between you and a future career. You both were way too young for those rash decisions. 

It was with this memory that you were reminded of why you broke up: you wanted him to focus on his goals and you would do the same. “Really, I’m so proud of you.” 

Why you hadn’t let go of him at that point was a mystery to you, but you couldn’t seem to stop. The feel of his body against yours consumed you, held you captive even if his arms didn’t. 

But after a moment, you felt strong limbs wrap around your sides and emotion wrap around your throat. 

You don’t remember the last time you two truly embraced. It was a given that the last time you did, you were both completely different people. Both so young. Both so naive.

“Thank you,” Seokjin breathed, his head finally a beautiful burden on your shoulder, “But there’s more.” 

Tension froze your veins, taking the color from your complexion. Of course there was more. There was no way that was the big reveal, even though it was a monster in itself. “Oh,” was all you managed to squeak out. 

Seokjin’s arms gently pushed your body away so that he could look you in the eyes. You already missed his stronghold, but you listened as he spoke. “My parents want me to go back home. To Korea.” 

You blinked. “Even though you got into Harvard?” 

“No, no, after that,” Seokjin expressed with a level of confidence only he could achieve. Like it was inconceivable that he wouldn’t get his doctorate. He then searched your face, the pause holding weight. “So, I don’t know if I’ll see you guys again.” 

The wind howled outside and you shivered as if you were standing out there in the cold. There was so much that you wanted to say, but all the thoughts you had in your head melded together into sludge. Words struggled to leave your mouth. Nothing processed correctly in your brain. 

Seokjin wasn’t joking - not this time. He really was going to be swamped in work and work and more work. Even the holidays were going to be crammed, and you were sure he wanted to use those rare rest periods solely to recharge. 

Yes, he would still be able to text and call everyone, but that would be the extent of communication. He wasn’t big on social media. Even if he was, there would certainly be a dip in his activity now. 

Just like you felt earlier, you really did feel like you were going through a breakup again. Only this time, the last remains of your relationship were at stake. 

You didn’t want that. 

“We’d still be friends,” you weakly offered, wondering if you were just saying that to convince yourself. 

An empty chuckle startled you, and when you looked at Jin, he directed an empty gaze toward his nightstand’s lamp. “Yeah… We’d still be friends,” he repeated, and the way he said that made your shoulders sag. It was almost as if he didn’t believe you. 

“But Seokjin… You should be so happy. I mean, you’re incredible,” you whispered, a heavy feeling weighing down your chest.

“What if I’m not?” 

You sucked in a breath, suddenly not knowing what to do. Was he saying that hypothetically? No. There wouldn’t be a reason for him to ask if he truly was. 

How were you supposed to respond to that? Being a doctor was his goal - you were sure of it. If he got accepted into Harvard of all places, then his future glimmered as bright as his charm. “What do you mean,” was what you decided to say. Because you needed more from him than that. 

“You said I should be happy. What if I’m not?” 

“This is what you’ve been working towards your whole life!” It didn’t make any sense. None of this was making any sense. Who wasn’t happy that they got accepted to one of the most prestigious medical programs in the world? “You did everything you could, and now you have something to show for it! We even broke up over this. And that’s fine,” you quickly added at the end. You didn’t want Seokjin to feel bad for that at all. 

“What I’m trying to say is,” you continued, wanting to get every logical word out before more irrational ones escaped. “You’ve gotten everything you wanted. You deserve to be happy.” 

You could feel the doors of your heart scraping shut. Even if you wanted to try to be with him again, you would have to give up on that dream. There was no way it was going to work if it didn’t pan out last time. 

Fists clenched, you hated how your heart gravitated towards Seokjin on this damn trip, loathed how your brain produced its own highlight reel. Somehow, they both knew this was the end before you did. 

“I don’t have everything I want, but you’re right. I’ll be happy.” He sounded bitter. Why did he sound so bitter?

“What more could you want,” you blurted, the question materializing between the two of you in bold letters. You were just getting frustrated at this point. 

This was his dream. The ultimate goal. The one thing he wanted out of life.

“It doesn’t matter.” 

“It does to me.”

“Well, it’s none of your concern.”

“I don’t care if it is or not.”

“You really want to know?” Seokjin shot off the bed, immediately towering over your small stature. As your eyes reached his face, you watched as his lips twisted, your shocked features taking in his frustration. “It’s… It’s love, okay? That might sound weird to you, but I’ve realized that all of this is pointless without it. That’s what I’m missing. I want to love again.” He shoved a hand through his hair, his forehead slightly wrinkling under duress. 

The first thing that threw you off was the mere mention of the word. That was so brave of him to even bring it up. With you, of all people: someone he’s dated before. It must have taken so much courage for him to admit that. 

But there was another word in there that stood out amongst all the others.

Again. He said again. Did he love someone before? He couldn’t have been referring to what you guys had. You never once said those words to each other while you dated. So who was he thinking of? And why did it hurt to know that he had loved before and it wasn’t you? 

“I didn’t know you wanted that,” you replied, your voice painfully small. “But I don’t think it’s weird.”

You wanted nothing more than to just confess to him already, but you had no clue what he would say if he didn’t want something with you. The moment escaped like a thief in the night.

“Ah, well, if you knew the whole story,” Seokjin sighed, his breath shaky, “You would definitely think it’s stupid.”

“Why did it end the first time?” You wanted to get to the bottom of it. Maybe through his explanation, you could find something salvageable. You cared about him - so damn much. Seeing him in a state of utter helplessness seized your heart and gripped it tight. “With the one you… you loved. What happened?”

Seokjin’s indiscernible stare pierced through your soul, his silence screaming that he didn’t want to talk about it. 

And you understood his reluctance. The list of activities to do with an ex didn’t include this as an option, either. 

You felt the steely aftertaste of guilt on your tongue. Maybe he wanted you to just leave him alone already. Besides, you already pushed him to tell a multitude of truths that night. Asking him about a past love life was most likely crossing the line. “I’m sorry,” you apologized, uprooting yourself from your spot to leave. “You don’t have to tell me. I’ll leave you alone.” 

You made it three steps before Seokjin responded, “She decided to end it.” 

A vice clamped your chest. You stood in your new spot closer to the door, eyes boring into the floor. “Even though you were in love?” 

That must have been awful. If you loved him when you two broke it off, it would have absolutely hurt. Very much like what was happening to you now, in fact. Because fuck, were you absolutely disintegrating like a paper on fire. 

“I don’t think she loved me,” Seokjin disclosed, his words tightening the clasp around your lungs. “But I loved her.” 

“I’m so sorry, Seokjin.” Tears brimmed across your eyes, but you didn’t want him to see you break. You thrummed with so many emotions in that moment, swept by the current of his words, his heavy tribulations.

He loved someone in the past. You loved him in the present. If only you both harbored a love for each other in at least one point in your lives. 

“That must have been hard.”

“It wasn’t, for the most part.” His brittle words crumbled as they appeared. “I saw it coming.”

You chewed on your lip. Seokjin’s confessions were so full of pain - the amount of love he had for this person was obvious. Looking back on your relationship, you remember your split being mutual. It was mutual, right? There weren't any feelings involved. Whichever other situation Seokjin was referring to had to be sometime after you. 

Maybe it was someone during his college days. But wouldn’t you have at least heard about them through the friend circle? Their name must have just left your mind. You knew Seokjin flirted a lot but he needed to be serious to really start a relationship. This one just sounded tragic. 

“I don’t know what to say,” you admitted sincerely, your chest about ready to collapse, “Other than don’t give up. You can do it. Love again.” The joints in your knees threatened to give out. Telling the one you loved that he could find someone again was too much. Too, too much.

“Ah, yeah. Well.” Seokjin turned away from you in a shrug. Even the back of his profile was perfect. “Thanks for being a good, uh, friend.” 

Friend. Could you teleport to your room and stay there? You couldn’t be the one to give him what he wanted, especially since he was about to be gone for a very long time. No matter how much you wanted to. Oh, how you wanted to. 

You swung around to face the door once again. Critical words almost freed themselves from your lips, but you held them back, swallowed them down. “I’ll always be your friend.” 

Head storming, you commended yourself for keeping your voice level. The tears were able to recede - which relieved you, since you wanted to make it through the rest of the conversation with dry eyes. With one tiny head shake, you whispered, “Let’s get some sleep, okay? I don’t want us to ruin the rest of this trip. Like you said before, we have to make it the best one.” 

Seokjin got up and made his way over to you, and you turned around with a fresh face once you knew he was close enough. The smile he wore was manufactured, but you didn’t want to pry. Instead, you repeated your advice as you both approached his door. Because you wanted him to understand. “Seriously. Don’t give up, you hear me?” 

“Don’t give up,” he echoed as he pulled on the handle, like you were just giving him directions. He stilled for a moment in deep concentration before looking your way. Dark eyes bore into yours and you could almost hear them speak, but he gave one final nod and vowed, “Okay.” 

Little striations met you again when you gave Seokjin’s closed room one last look, and you swore they regarded you with pity. Finally breaking, you let your tears fall the whole way back to your floor, wishing to be made into a sturdy tree in your next life so you never had to feel that way again. 

The next morning found all nine friends situated in various places around Seokjin’s room. You thought it amusing that the boys never really settled for normal seats, always choosing a table or windowsill perch instead. As an avid fan of the floor yourself, apparently, you were once again plopped on the ground in front of the sofa. Only this time, you weren’t drowning in the depths of your past.  

“Looks like the snow piled up high last night, so we might not be able to use the cars,” Namjoon observed after his long fingers created a tiny crack in the curtains. His argyle sweater blended in with the burgundy fabric and the sight put a small smile on your face. 

The action surprised you since you spent the whole night swathed in a blanket of regret, your arms caging your ribs in an attempt to stopper your bleeding heart. If only you were so bold as to allow a confession to fall from your lips. Three words to solve two peoples’ problems.  

But the risk involved was too high. The hurt following an unrequited love confession would haunt you through every sunrise and sunset. 

Jungkook’s exasperated voice sliced through your thoughts. “What are we gonna do then?” You glanced at him right as he threw himself onto Seokjin’s bed, bouncing the other two occupants  like buoys amongst waves. 

“What we can do: stay in,” Yoongi responded while repositioning himself against the headboard. 

Taehyung’s sigh mingled with Rin’s tsking noise, Jungkook’s deeper groan almost in harmony with the both of them. Their melancholic concerto almost pulled a laugh out of you, but the next suggestion came from Hoseok, “I brought some board games we could play. Cards, too.” 

Seokjin quickly shot him a look. “You don’t play board games. Or games. Or cards. Actually, what do you do?” 

“I look after all of you.” Hoseok’s head always bobbed when he spoke to accentuate his points. “Hence why I brought board games and cards just in case!” 

You couldn’t refute the man’s claims, either. Hoseok always made sure everyone packed what they needed before trips but brought extra stuff in the event that the group needed something else. Helping was just part of his nature. Yesterday was one example. Rin got the snacks last night, but you were sure he would have woken up at any point in time to be your comfort food delivery man. If being a leader were a sport, Hoseok would be the dark horse that you never saw coming until they finished first. Then you couldn’t deny their talent and skill. 

Taehyung didn’t let the dark horse live, though. “Thanks, hyung. Did you pack a snowblower, too?” 

Rin’s laugh could always be heard amongst your friends, but not because she was a girl. Hers was just so distinct and heartwarming, like a cozy throw or the thought of cookies in the oven. It was only slightly better than Jimin’s. 

Speaking of which: Jimin was eerily quiet throughout the whole meeting, his gaze lingering on you more than once. You noticed it ever since you burst into Seokjin’s room and lauded the man’s scholastic advancement. Which couldn’t be helped. No matter how painful last night’s conversation was, you still wanted him to know how proud you were. After all, a person could be sporting a dagger through their heart but still have love to give.  

You didn’t know why Jimin was acting strange. The big secret was unveiled but you would come to terms with it. Was he afraid of how you would be feeling? Or was he just sympathizing with you because he assumed you weren’t exactly fine? Talking to him later to iron things out was going to be essential. The multiple glances he threw your way proved too much.  

“I have a pamphlet we can look through,” you responded, waving it in the air like a white flag. The decision to bring it just in case proved to be the right one, even if Rin threw a small fit from having to fumble through her bag for the room key again. Warmth from the thick hoodie swallowing both your body and your bent legs validated the first time you went back into your room. 

Rin stuck her tongue out at you but smiled right after in her best Sour Patch Kid impression. Cute. You breathily laughed before unfolding the flimsy paper. Shifting your eyes along the colorful pages, you started listing out the lodge activities. “Okay, so we have… Kayaking: no. Lake yoga: no. Mountain biking: no…” 

Even though the lodge boasted a huge amount of things to do, the majority of them required there to not be four billion inches of snow outside. Only a few remained, and majority rules determined ski slopes the winner. 

The only issue with the slopes was that they only allowed groups of three at a time. To remedy this, groups were formed and a rotation was set based on a heated tournament of rock-paper-scissors. And while Hoseok didn’t play board games, cards, or even video games, he seemed to be a pro at that. 

He picked Seokjin and Yoongi for his group, and they were going out first, to the eldest’s horror. You saw his anxiousness coming from miles out - tackling snow with one board was much more up his alley than tackling it with two. 

Next, Jungkook chose Namjoon and Jimin since he wanted to somehow “win” on the slopes. They gave him much grief for that. 

And that left you with Rin and Taehyung, but they wanted to check out the spa area first, so your group was going to catch up later. 

Which wasn’t ideal for you. You wanted to watch Seokjin ski. Or really, you just wanted to see him as much as possible before the trip ended. Seok in his presence, like he said. Maybe being pruny in this case was a beautiful thing. 

Room Service knocking on the door interrupted your thoughts, and Jimin let them in to serve the breakfast Seokjin ordered for everyone prior. While the dishes were distributed, the group was already firing bets and insults and digs at each other as if a clear winner would emerge outside. And you welcomed every bit of their energy. Chewing on food while basking in everyone’s competitive nature was enough of a distraction from your woes. At least, until you caught Jimin deep in thought again.

The spa was decent, so you three ended up staying for almost an hour. Both the sauna and facial massage served to ease the thick layer of tenseness under your skin. If only you could transport yourself into a cloud of steam every time you thought about Seokjin. Maybe that would’ve helped with the anxiousness and guilt you felt every time you thought about confessing. 

And you were grateful for Taehyung tagging along because he really did offer free hugs often. Even while Rin scanned over the receipt for everything you guys did, the man slung a lean arm around your shoulders. 

His voice glided over your hair when he leaned in to ask, “How did it go last night?” 

You sighed before responding, debating on how to answer him. You decided to take the easy route. “Good. Better than I expected. I just can’t believe it took him that long to tell me! I was so worried this whole time.” 

Taehyung squeezed you gently. “Finally. We kept telling him to just admit it already.” 

Rin was in the middle of paying when you smiled. Her hair gleamed in the incandescents, and you reached out to touch it as you admitted, “It’s just weird that he wanted to hide that from me.” 

“Well, you’re his ex, so he thought it would’ve been awkward.” 

A laugh shot out of you, and Taehyung gave you a look. “Seokjin’s so strange. He knows I’ve been rooting for him this whole time. I mean, Harvard? That’s incredible.” 

Normally, friends would converse about achievements and be sincerely happy about them. But something else happened in that moment that set alarm bells off in your head. Whether it was Rin becoming a block of ice in front of you, or Taehyung slowly peeling his arm off of your shoulders, you suddenly got a feeling that something wasn’t right.  

When Rin spun around to face you, the expression painted on her face reminded you of those Renaissance pieces you saw during one museum date with your ex. Her eyebrows artfully scrunched; her full lips twisted. Was she on the side of the angels, battling demons? Going to war? 

No, she was just trying to clarify something. “He didn’t say anything else?” 

You gulped. “I mean, yeah?”

“What did he say?” Taehyung furrowed his dark brows, his own face a work of art in itself. 

“That his parents are making him move back to Korea when he’s done with his doctorate,” you revealed, suspicious of the both of them and Seokjin now. You kept your tone level to hide any emotions under the surface. “Why, is there more?” 

Once again, you were swept under the wave of confusion. The waters there were dark and cold, and you felt like you couldn’t swim to safety this time. It was as if cotton clogged your ears and a thin film coated your vision. You didn’t even register Taehyung furiously typing on his phone while Rin led you all out of the spa’s reception area. 

“Do you want there to be more,” was all she offered before sitting you down on an earthly toned loveseat. The fluffy rug under your shoes snagged most of your attention. 

“I don’t know how to answer that, but I guess not,” you finally grunted, feeling angrier and angrier from being left in the dark again. Comparable to a disease, this dangerous feeling was taking over you, trickling into your veins drop by black drop. “Honestly, I kinda just want to go back to the room until we meet for dinner. Whatever you guys are hiding is starting to piss me off.” 

“Let’s go,” Rin agreed, urging you to get up and follow her to the room. But you shook her off. 

“I’ll go by myself.” Buzzing with anger, you shuffled through your bag to grip your key. “Just let me be alone for a bit.”

Taehyung looked absolutely livid, but he nodded along with Rin. You didn’t watch the two of them share a knowing glance as you drug your crumpling form to the stairs, hoping pieces of you didn’t crumble off before you reached your temporary bed.  

From the moment your tired bones hit your comforter, time traveled at a strange pace. You didn’t know how long you spent lying prone on the sheets, your head lolled towards the window. Watching the light snowfall outside did nothing to bring you out of your dark space. 

Being left out, confused, and feeling betrayed left you mentally drained. How long were you going to feel like this? Like you were just going to keep being lied to? Maybe you weren’t outwardly lied to, but omitting something was still considered a lie. The truth was still held captive and you couldn’t even pay it a visit. 

Rin and Taehyung reacted strongly to what you said. That had to mean whatever else Seokjin was supposed to say to you was big. You weren’t stupid. At least, that’s what you concluded. 

But what if you were this time? 

You loathed this feeling. You hated being looked at with pity. Even Rin knew what was left unsaid this time, so you were truly alone in the dark. 

A dark monster within you rose to life, and you ripped yourself from the sheets. Snatching your coat from the couch, you jerked your arms inside, striding toward your door with purpose. A ball of fury, you were determined to march up the slopes and confront Seokjin. Everything was getting ridiculous. 

Tugging the door open, you flinched at the figure waiting on the other side. A brief moment of silence and bewilderment and worry washed over you, quelling a small part of your harbored anger. “What happened to you?” 

Seokjin stood in front of you wrapped in his puffy coat, hair in disarray and a small gash on his cheek. His nose was red with the cold and a small cut, and his eyes looked as if he had been holding back tears. Tears? Was he crying? Even now, it seemed like a few were threatening to fall as his gaze lowered. A ghost of a voice wafted from his mouth as he replied, “Jimin.” 

You winced. Remembering the glances the younger man gave you this morning, you should have seen a conflict brewing. Your friend wasn’t lying when he said he’d give Seokjin hell. Something must have broken out when they were on the slopes, or anytime you weren’t there with them. “Shit. I’m sorry.” 

If you didn’t have that revelation with Rin and Taehyung, you would have been absolutely thrown by Seokjin’s appearance and the cause of it. But it seemed that both groups found out what he told you last night and neither were pleased with the result. What that result was, you couldn’t determine yet. But based on your own categories, “I got into Harvard” and “I’m moving back to Korea” fit in the Should Know box. The Deserved to Know box was still accepting applications. 

“Come in.” Your fury had to simmer on a proverbial stove for the time being. “I have a first aid kit in my bag.” 

You hurried him into the room before making a beeline for your duffle. The adrenaline built while you were fired up was still thrumming your bones like guitar strings. Nothing more was said as your bag crinkled with your rummaging, even though you wanted to just wring answers from his neck already. 

But you couldn’t. You needed a moment to collect your thoughts, both the past woes you were fighting and your current worries. 

As Jin awkwardly stood in front of your bed, you kept pondering. What the hell happened out there? How did it end up in a physical altercation? Did Jin fight back? It was already obvious Jimin initiated it, but you wondered if he sported any bruises, too. Not from Seokjin, though. Because you couldn’t ever see him throwing a punch. You were more curious about someone like Yoongi. The elder one was incredibly protective of Jin.

When you found the kit, you spun around to start tending to your ex’s face. “Bed,” you ordered, pointing towards yours with the first aid box. Your tone was harsh, but you weren’t holding it back.

The man was silent as he delicately sat on the comforter, and you instantly noticed how he refused to look at you still. 

No matter. Treating his cuts was a priority, but that didn’t mean you weren’t going to force him into confrontation right after. Seokjin wasn’t going to have a choice. 

Perching yourself next to him, you propped one leg up to steady yourself, clicking open the small kit next to you. It wasn’t as fancy as the one he carried along, but it housed the basics. Fetching some antiseptic and cotton first, you told him to turn towards you so that you could start. 

And despite your anger, your exasperation, your frustration, the hands you lifted to Seokjin’s face were nothing but calm. 

Throughout the time you dusted his cuts, you kept your gaze on his cheek, his mouth, his nose. A wall erected around you that you refused to take down. After all of the hurt Seokjin had caused, the turmoil he had put you through, it was pertinent you wouldn’t let him in. You had your soldiers’ arrows at the ready, directed right at his wounded face. 

But if you so much as flitted your gaze toward his eyes, your walls would crumble to dust. Your gates would slam open in surrender. 

Because having him this close to you after all this time was like coming home. And you harbored that feeling ever since the scent of his cologne consumed you. Your face hovered inches from his, your fingers gently pressing his features. All of the nights you yearned to be this close were so lonely and cold, and his warmth was tugging your heart by multiple strings. 

His looming absence was hitting you deeply then. If you gave in only to lose him again, the pain would surely hollow out your soul until you were a mere shell of yourself. You wanted nothing more than to sink into the mattress and slip down into the soil underneath the lodge. 

Suddenly, a hand cradled your cheek, and you shook on impact. Without thinking, you locked eyes with Jin, and it was then that you realized he was wiping hot tears from your face. 

“If I’m the reason for these,” he whispered, “I’m sorry.” 

Something strangled escaped you, and you finally caved. “You are,” you exhaled, unable to stop the tears from falling. “You really are.”

You tore yourself from the bed, instantly feeling the lingering warmth of his fingers fade. A chasm was created between you two: your chest heaving on one side and his face crumbling on the other. The mountain of thoughts and feelings you created broke down under pressure, emotions roaring down its slopes in a cathartic avalanche. “I’ve been looking like a fool this whole trip, and apparently everyone is feeling so fucking sorry for me. Why can’t you just tell me everything? What did Yoongi mean? What do I deserve to know? You told me you got into Harvard and have the audacity to say you aren’t happy? What the hell is that about? We’re supposed to be friends, so why am I feeling like you’re letting that all go?” You choked on your tears and clasped a hand over your mouth, a burn blossoming in your chest from the dry sobs. 

Seokjin’s eyes ringed with a burgeoning shade of pink, both of his pupils glossed in guilt. “I’m not… I’m not letting that go, but--”

“But what, Seokjin,” you gritted out, “Please stop and just tell me already.” 

“But I was too scared,” he admitted, “I’m still scared.” 

“Why are you scared?” The question drifted to his face, and you could tell he was struggling to answer even that one. It pained you to be this close yet so far from the answer.

“Why are you scared, Seokjin,” you whispered again, realizing that his hands were shaking. 

“Because…” You watched as he clenched them on his thighs, and he struggled to get the words out. “Because it’s going to happen again.” 

Enough with the obscurity. Frustration reached a boiling point. “What’s going to happen again?” 

“Exactly what happened last time!” Seokjin declared as his eyes pleaded with you, eyebrows furrowed and kneeling in anguish. The skin encasing his watery eyes remained that same dusty shade of affliction. 

You couldn’t for the life of you understand what he was saying, until you remembered last night. When you asked him about the time he loved before. 

Wait.

Your hand made a slow descent from your face as you matched Seokjin’s stare. A million words skittered across your eyes, transforming into liquid and sliding down your skin. You were sure you looked an absolute wreck with your tear-stained cheeks and reddened nose, but that didn’t concern you at all. The only thing you could hang onto was Jin’s words, just short of a confession. 

But you had to be sure. You weren’t settling for five words that could mean a thousand other things while arranged the same way. “The one from before,” you more stated than questioned, “Where is she now.” 

Seokjin never broke his gaze, doing an incredible job of keeping tears at the edges of his eyes. Heavy breaths caused his chest to swell with each pass. Voice low, he finally, finally caved, “She’s the one on the polaroid I have in my room.” 

The entire conversation from last night struck you like a freight train. So many realizations hit you at once and you didn’t know how your trembling legs were keeping you upright. 

It was you. He was talking about you. 

Your coat smothered your limbs like a cage, your whole being rattling inside like an animal starved. 

That was what he was truly hiding from you. That was what he had buried deep down into his chest. And you couldn’t blame him one bit after you realized it was exactly what you were holding from him, too. 

No matter the reason, you still kept your own truth hidden. It occurred to you then that you couldn’t be angry - that would just be hypocrisy. There was bravery in confession, and even more so to someone you no longer were allowed to feel that way about. 

You were the one that forced the truth out of Seokjin, and now you only felt like a coward. 

Movement in front of you snapped your vision back into focus. He was getting up to leave. Why was he leaving? 

“I knew this would happen,” he said, his voice strained. “I’ll go. I’m sorry I made you uncomfortable.” 

Oh. He assumed your silence was from guilt. Guilt that you didn’t feel the same. And he was about to walk out with that egregious misconception. What an absolute fool.

But no matter how hard you tried, the words wouldn’t budge from the back of your teeth. 

You had two choices here. One, you told him. You laid everything out and you admitted that you felt the same. Then tomorrow, he would leave your life and you may not see him again for years. And you tried this before - being in two separate schools and living different lives while holding onto your relationship. It obviously didn’t work last time, and you still saw him from time to time. This situation would be a thousand times harder. 

Which brought you to the second option: you let him go. You let him leave without telling him how you felt. Rip the bandage off right there and then. Leave him to pursue his dream, and with that the freedom to go and find someone else to love. Was that what you wanted? Was this your own sick version of loving him? All the villains in the universe would applaud you as you lied to his face while telling him not to give up. How fucking cruel would that be?

“Seokjin,” you called out, and your chest subtly heaved when he turned to stone by the door. His broad back remained still as you took a step towards him, and only after you roamed your eyes over his shoulders did you notice small movements. But he didn’t face you. It was almost as if he didn’t want to.

Agony consumed your entire being as you made your decision. 

You shut your eyes, clenched your jittering fingers into hard fists. 

“See you at the campfire,” you whispered, your voice unfamiliar even to yourself. 

The only response you got was the soft opening and closing of your door.

Compared to last night’s lion of a snow storm, tonight was but a mere cub. There were small flakes here and there taking their time to descend, and the fixtures from inside the lodge were the only light source beside the fire pit you were approaching downstairs. 

Situated in the center of your friends, the flames danced across their jovial smiles as they passed bottles around. The drinks weren’t the lodge’s, but the ones you all brought and snuck out of the rooms - the telltale green glass was enough of a hint. 

After Seokjin left, it took you a couple minutes to let everything out, and about thirty minutes crying into Rin’s shoulder once she witnessed your crumpled form on the floor. She listened to your recap of the conversation and Jin’s final secret, and through broken sobs you told her you couldn’t tell him yours. When she asked why, you told her your reasoning. When she called you an idiot, you wholeheartedly agreed and cried even harder. 

But you still stuck with your decision. It was for the best. You loved him so much that you wanted what was best for him, and that was to let you go. 

“Promise me one thing,” Rin murmured, earning a nod from you. “Only go through with it if you know you won’t regret it.” 

A sharp pain sliced through you then, but you acquiesced. “I won’t.” 

She then grabbed your Polaroid from the bed. It was Namjoon’s idea to bring it to the campfire once he heard you brought it on the trip. “Are you okay with this?” 

“Yeah,” you gulped, regarding the old piece of the past with heavy eyes. Seokjin confessed to you with the help of that camera. You weren’t okay with the mere idea of touching it. “Yeah, it’s fine. I want everyone to enjoy themselves tonight, so. Yes.” 

Even if that meant you suffered. This was Seokjin’s last trip with everyone, not just you. Why keep them from making good memories just because you were a walking dark cloud?

You reached the bottom of the rickety stairs, the squeaky noises catching the attention of the boys. Most of them raised their bottles to you, but you caught Jin staring at the fire instead. 

If you got through this night in one piece, it would be a miracle.

Namjoon stood as you and Rin settled into your seats. “Okay. Since we’re all here now, I say we start.” 

As everyone gave their cheers, the eldest just looked confused. “Start what?”

“Something for you,” Yoongi explained, his body already comfortable in his Adirondack. “Since you aren’t joining us for these anymore.”

“Ah, yah,” Seokjin protested, “You don’t need to do anything—”

“Don’t lie, you already love this,” Jimin cut in, all smiles despite the companion bruises and cuts on his face to Jin’s. “Although, your opinion may change in a second.”

Jungkook paused his leg bouncing to shout, “Let hyung explain!” 

You smiled as the group settled, but noticed that Jimin was looking at you strangely. You didn’t have time to process it, though, since Namjoon headed things off while a bottle rested against his chest, “Jin-hyung. We just want you to know that we’re proud of you. Even though we may not see you for awhile, you’ll be in our hearts and on our minds. Starting tomorrow, you’re already Dr. Kim to us, so I say we all call you by name tonight.”

Laughter and claps filled the air, drowning out Seokjin’s weak protests. 

Namjoon cleared his throat to calm the air, and you watched small flakes catch in his hair as he continued, “We’ll each do two things: give you advice, and ask for advice. Since you’re clearly educated, we figured you’d have a lot to say.”

“Oh, I’m just lucky.” 

“And keep sharp, everyone. Miss Photographer over there will be taking pictures.” Namjoon nodded at you, and you gave a short smile while holding up the Polaroid. You were fine doing this; behind the lens was your safe space. 

The boys and Rin slowly got through their questions and advice, and you were shocked by how insightful Seokjin was being. You never truly realized the magnitude of his intelligence. Every person around the campfire hung on his every word, and it didn’t help that you all took a swig after every good point he made - many, many times. You diligently fired away on your camera, making sure to get Seokjin with everyone so they could all have a moment captured with him. 

When Jimin’s turn came, he shot you a glance before looking at your ex. “Jin. That sounds weird to say. Jin-hyung.” He looked at the ground before continuing, and you knew it was to compose himself. “My advice to you… Sorry,” he buried his head in his elbow for a brief moment. Yoongi looked away. 

“I kinda gave you advice already,” Jimin trudged on, “And you took it. So, my next piece of advice would be to, uh, keep going.” 

You were rooted to your chair. Seokjin didn’t spare you a single glance during that exchange, but you knew it was about you. It had to be how he ended up at your door earlier. He even said Jimin was the one responsible for his wounds. 

“Thank you, Jimin,” Jin replied. “As for my advice to you, it’s okay to let people figure things out on their own. You don’t have to put it on yourself to be the one that keeps people together. If something ends up breaking, you’re going to think it’s your fault.” 

Jimin regarded him with watery eyes before nodding and wiping his freezing tears. And when he looked your way, he saw you only looking at Seokjin. Your face was slowly cracking, and the shadows in your facade were exacerbated by the flames. 

It was your turn; everyone else went. The Polaroid felt like a boulder on your thighs.

You blinked before setting the camera down and clutching your bottle. Since Seokjin was on the other side of the fire, you had to stand to see him, your tenseness on full display. 

What could you possibly say in that moment that he wanted to hear? That he was willing to listen to? You were certain you took his heart and slammed it into the ground earlier. It would be better if you just didn’t say anything. 

“Seokjin,” you started, pausing to collect yourself. “My advice to you is to forget the advice I gave you before.” 

Several pairs of eyes looked at you then. Even Jin finally regarded you, the most aware of what you were referring to.

“What I’m trying to say is: it’s okay to give up sometimes, because not everything that you want to happen is going to happen. There will be times you will just have to let things go. And that’s okay. Because maybe letting things go would end up for the best.” 

Jimin’s eyes bore into your soul. He sat so still that it put all the statues throughout history to shame. 

Seokjin grabbed his bottle with both hands, elbows resting on his knees. “Interesting advice.” His eyes danced as they took in the warm flames. “I might even follow it.” 

Both of your lungs threatened to give out at his words. Your hands almost dropped the glass you were barely clinging to, but you never looked away from Jin. It was as if your attention was chained to his body, your soul weighed down by his earlier confession and now his possible break. 

If he followed your advice, shouldn’t you be happy? It’s what you wanted in the end, right? You would let him go, and he wouldn’t look back. 

Snow drifted onto everyone’s chairs and the fire crackled in front of you. A small breath left you in a wisp of white. Warmth did its best to help you, but the cold was too strong. No amount of fire in the world could melt your icy conscience - you truly left Seokjin in the dark. He practically admitted that he loved you, and in return you gave him nothing. Of course he would consider your advice.  

“But I like the sound of not giving up. It has a ring to it that exists beyond the sound it makes when someone says it,” he cut himself off, the silence deafening. Inside, bells rang in your head. What was he implying? Seokjin’s voice was as clear as blue skies when he continued, “So, I guess I’m stealing your advice and giving it to everyone here.” 

Your gaze shifted to the side as everyone turned towards Seokjin. This was something you weren’t prepared to digest. Settling back down into your chair, you tried to even out your breathing and neutralize your shaking fingers. 

Your feelings were warring with each other in a confusing battle. If you wanted him to follow your advice, why were you relieved when he said he liked not giving up? Did that mean you hoped he still waited for you? Years and years and years from now? 

“Take it from me: don’t give up,” he advised. “But what I mean by that is to not give up until you’re happy.” 

Guilt squeezed your eyes shut, clamping your lids down. He was going to wait. Love was the one thing he wanted to be happy. And you held your love for him tightly in your hands, behind your back and hidden from sight. 

But even still, in the midst of your silent rejection, this man wasn’t letting go. Without saying the words, Seokjin was going to wait for you. Because he still loved you. 

This was too hard. 

“To being happy,” Jimin boisterously cheered, startling everyone and causing your bones to rattle. His glass remained high in the air, and everyone joined in with their own proclamations. 

“To being happy,” you whispered alongside the others, quickly taking a swig.

Yoongi was the next one to pipe up as he declared, “Okay, now that all that’s done, let’s just drink for fuck’s sake.” 

Amongst the laughter and “thank god”s thrown about, you quickly downed the rest of your drink like it was your lifeline. You needed more than liquid courage to get through the rest of the night. The camera by your feet was snatched up by Jungkook before Taehyung could get to it, and you prayed to every higher power that they kept it in one piece. 

As everyone made their way back to their rooms, you noticed Seokjin joking and laughing with the others like normal. It was a continuation of the rest of the night, since after the advice conversation it was nothing but fun. Your Polaroid almost ran out of film, for one, but watching everyone fight over the photos was entertainment in itself. There were digs toward Jin until he turned red, jabs thrown at Jimin’s fragile emotional state, and Rin’s warm laughter coating everything in a soft glow. 

And it was a bittersweet event. There was nothing more you wanted than to capture that moment and place it in a snowglobe. The world wouldn’t interfere with your friends, and none of you would ever leave. 

Seokjin was about to head up the stairs to tuck in for the night. Full of soju and stupidity, you blurted, “Leaving already?” 

He stilled before turning toward you. “Oh. Yeah.” He regarded you with a look you couldn’t completely decipher. “Long day tomorrow.” 

“Right,” you replied, hating the sudden hollowness you felt. Or didn’t feel. 

“Well… Good night.” Seokjin tapped the banister twice before heading up, and you softly wished him good night before speedwalking to your room. You were only tipsy, so the fast trip didn’t bother you. The camera in your hands kept your center balanced the whole way back.

By some strange miracle, you kept it together the whole time after everyone’s campfire speeches. You imagined yourself as an ice sculpture, surrounded by the guests of honor. Everyone gave you a glance and thought nothing else of you. They could only see composure and poise. Only when they got closer could they see you slowly melting, rivulets of remorse cascading down your entire frame.

Rin was in the middle of her skincare routine when you entered your room. As soon as she heard your footsteps, she made a noise indicating she had something to say. The product around her mouth didn’t let her yet, though. Which meant you had to wait. 

You stood in the doorframe of the bathroom, vision spinning just a smidge. This was probably a talk you didn’t want to have, but you gave your friend her podium. It was only fair. Her serious talks were few and far between. 

But she didn’t have much to say when she finished getting ready for bed. In fact, she only said three sentences. 

“It’s 11 o’clock,” she stated plainly, her tone indicating she was done with the calmer approach. Bluntness was more her style. 

“Okay?” 

“We leave at 7 in the morning.” 

“And?” 

“It means you have eight hours to decide how you’re going to feel for the next ten years.” 

Silence. 

All you could respond with was silence. 

Dead air. Sober. You were sober now. In that moment, you may have held your breath for a century. Too many thoughts flooded your brain, from past memories at a carnival to future images of an empty apartment with a bed fit for one. 

It was stark. Blank. There wasn’t going to be a future with Seokjin, no matter what you said. 

But when Rin put it that way, would you feel better if he knew the truth? Or would you keep this idiotic stance and lock your feelings away forever? 

For the third time that night, your fingers rattled. Rin took them into her comforting palms. 

“Go,” she murmured, and she smiled as she witnessed you burst into the hall. 

Your strides were incredibly long as you hurried down the corridor. The doors blurred on either side of your vision, the pattern of the floor elongated with your fast pace. Your camera thudded into your chest over and over. Step after step after step got faster and faster as your anxiousness bubbled into your brain. The last turn before the stairs made you skid, and you rushed up the rickety steps. Your heart was thrumming, scratching at your chest to set it free. 

When you got to his door, you were certain you woke sleeping neighbors with your rapid knocking. But you couldn’t stop yourself. Nothing could possibly stop you now.

You had no plan. There wasn’t time to think. All you wanted was to see him. All you could think about was letting everything out. Eight hours. You had eight hours.

Seokjin tugged the door open, pausing mid-swing when he saw your face. He looked so beautiful. Full of warmth. Like home.

“Jinnie.” 

You didn’t mean to call him that, but you didn’t take it back. You weren’t taking anything back anymore. His eyes roamed over your features multiple times, searching for any indication that this was a dream. But it wasn’t. The words finally slipped from your lips. 

“I’m not following your advice. Or my own.” 

His eyebrows furrowed, but you pushed on. 

“I’m giving up. But I’m giving up because I can’t let you go.” When Seokjin stared at you, it was impossible to look away. 

His response came out in a rush, “What are you… what are you saying?”

“I’m saying I love you.” You huffed out a breath you didn’t know you were holding. “Damn it, I— I just love you. I love you so much it hurts.” 

A shaky exhale left you at the look on his face. The quick descent into realization formed in the corners of his eyes, tears pooled at the edges before quickly streaming down his cheeks, collecting at the crux of his chin. Glassy orbs bore straight into your soul in search of answers, of truth. And if he wanted those answers, you already admitted the biggest one, so words were easier to come by.

“I’ve felt this way ever since our trip last year,” you started, slowly inching toward the wreck of a man. Not like you fared any better with the streaks forming on your own cheeks. “And I know it’s the stupidest thing to tell you now since you’re leaving, and we failed at long distance before, but--” 

Seokjin breathed out your name, and his next words would stay imprinted in your mind forever. “I still want to try. And I’ll try as many times as you’ll let me.” 

“I know. I know that now,” you whispered. 

Passion and warmth bloomed in your chest, spiraling out into the far reaches of your limbs. Hundreds of nights imagining him accepting you again didn’t prepare you for this feeling. Nothing was holding you back; your walls came crashing down. 

You finally broke and shielded your face in your hands, and you felt sturdy arms shield you from the world. The cruel, beautiful world that brought you two together right before he disappeared from your life again. You cried, and sobbed, and wheezed. The elation from his confession only magnified the pain of his departure. 

You felt the weight of the Polaroid leave your chest as Seokjin lifted it from your neck. “Come inside,” Seokjin whispered into your hair, earning a hiccup from your chest. “Please.” 

It was only then that you noticed you were still out in the hall. A small nod from you was all he needed to guide you into his room, and your throat constricted at the bags lying open on the bed. 

Seokjin was already packing. Packing while thinking he was going to go through the same thing he went through last time. You felt absolutely sick. How could you even think of doing this to him? If there was a way to make it all up to him, you would do it. “I didn’t want to tell you before,” you confessed, burying your nose into his chest. “But that was wrong of me. You almost left without knowing. I’m so sorry.” 

Strong, lean fingers traveled through your hair as your camera was placed on a table. The heavy clunk it made reached your ears, and a whisper followed. “I didn’t want to tell you, either. You don’t need to apologize.” 

“If I told you earlier, we would’ve had more time. Now I’m just sad.”  

“Look at me.” Jin caressed the back of your head, naturally lifting your gaze. His watery eyes took yours in, and he leaned forward to kiss the top of your hair. “We still have tonight, so if we’re going to be sad, let’s wait until after.” 

“But you’re crying, too,” you observed, feeling slightly better from his words. How Seokjin was able to have that effect on you, you would never understand. 

A light huff from him made you melt. “That’s because I’m so happy,” he confessed, softly laughing again and wiping his eyes with both hands. 

He was happy. Seokjin was happy. You looked at the growing smile under his fingers, and you had no choice but to grin and join in his laughter. 

Not because it was funny. But because it was unbelievable. You were able to gift him the last piece he was missing - he was finally able to find that happiness. How were you about to deny that from him? Now it seemed unfathomable.

When you looked at his hands again, you noticed there were lingering cuts. Worry washing over you, you cradled one in your palms and asked as Seokjin looked at you, “Should I take care of this, too?” Though the man had more than enough knowledge on playground injury care, you still offered because you wanted to be there for him in any possible way.

He replied instantly, “I took care of everything. Jimin, too. You saw him being his usual self earlier.” 

“He said he’d give you hell if you didn’t talk to me on this trip. I didn’t think he would go this far, though.” You reached up to run a thumb along the small gash on Seokjin’s cheek, the blood drying into a deep red. “I’ll make him regret it later.” 

Jin leaned into your touch, causing sparks in your skin. “Don’t,” he whispered, “He’s the reason I ended up at your door.” 

You just nodded and lost yourself in the feel of his soft face. It was incredibly smooth under your fingers, even better than when you held his cheeks all those years ago. To think that this man loved you ever since then, and continued to do so until now, was unbelievable. But it was true, and no amount of words could account for how you felt about that. 

Those eyes overflowing with adoration and affection were solely for you, and diving into them felt like being immersed in sunlit waters. 

“Can I kiss you?” 

The simple question took you by surprise, but you gazed at his lips. They only looked inviting, so who were you to deny him? “Please,” you sighed, and your eyelids closed shut at his pillowy touch. 

Color sprang from your heart at his confession, but heat burst from your chest at his kiss. The moment his lips met yours, every worry wrapped around your conscience snapped in two. Vines of doubt, regret, and anxiety withered under the warmth of Seokjin’s touch. It was cleansing. Powerful. Searing. 

A hand captured the back of your neck, and Jin took advantage of your gasp by dragging his tongue around the edge of your lips, a wordless plea to let him in. You gave in immediately, leaning forward and deepening the kiss, roping his tongue and eliciting a groan. 

Heat rushed between your legs and you echoed his sound with a soft moan of your own. Unwittingly, your hands found their way to Seokjin’s chest and you reveled in the feel of him under the thin material of his shirt. Without breaking your lips from his, you skirted the cotton hem with your fingers.  

Jin knew what you wanted, and his grin against your mouth only made you flush with desire. He broke from your lips to fully remove his shirt, and seeing his bare chest wiped the air from your lungs. You could only stare as you took in the lines of his solid build, wondering how the hell he had the time to achieve that look. 

Seokjin smirked at your reaction, tossing his top and hauling the bags off his bed while you were taking time to process everything. “Do I need to charge you?” 

You shook your empty head like a zombie. Your brain was currently mush, purely focused on the way his muscles rippled and slid against the confines of his skin. “No, don’t. I didn’t bring any money with me.” 

Laughter erupted from the other side of the bed. After Seokjin placed the last bag on the floor, he straightened and clarified, “I meant plug you in. You seem to be buffering over there. Low battery?”

“Shut up and get on the bed,” you teased, shrugging off the coat you still had on. You didn’t even get to change since coming in from the campfire. 

“Shut up and get on the bed, yes,” Seokjin fired back mercilessly as he sat on the comforter. He knew exactly how to push you. Even though you laughed, you made you way over to him and stood between his legs. 

You were silent then. No matter how happy you were, his departure tomorrow was weighing on you. The time you had with him was short. 

You wanted to make the most of it. Bringing your hand up to his face, you made sure to lightly skim over his gashes before mapping the rest. You wanted to ingrain every curve, every dip, every feature into memory. Every second was precious. The polaroid you had of him would still be no match for the real thing. If only you could capture the warmth of someone and keep it frozen in time.

Sure fingers clasped your hand, and Seokjin softly pulled you closer. Your first instinct was to rush in and hug him for dear life, and he immediately did the same to you, snatching the breath from your lungs and tugging tears from your ducts. You buried your face into his neck, inhaling his familiar scent and lamenting all the time you spent worrying over the smallest things. 

“We don’t have a lot of time,” Seokjin whispered, squeezing your heart. 

“I know,” you choked. You didn’t have much else to say.

“I just want to make sure we use it to do what you want.” 

You loosened your hold on him, astonished by his consideration. The growing bulge under his pants was more than screaming his wants. You felt it ever since the first kiss. But even still, he wanted to accommodate you. Your needs before his. 

It just made you fall for him even more. 

Reaching down to skim your fingers along his cock straining against his pants, you hovered your lips over his neck. “I want you,” you whispered before descending upon the smooth expanse of skin and earning a groan. 

Without warning, Seokjin tightened his arms around you. In one smooth motion, he effortlessly lifted you to straddle his thighs. You didn’t have time to think as he followed up with grabbing your head, pulling you down for another heated kiss. Your fingers latched onto his shoulders, scraping them when he thrust his tongue into your mouth. 

“Don’t do that yet,” he grunted, and you didn’t need to ask why after feeling a twitch in his jeans. 

You obeyed for the time being, cupping his neck with both hands. When you rolled your body against his, the hard feel of his stomach made you whimper. It was when you settled back on his hardness that your eyes widened. You were sure he was aching despite his silence. Maybe you could help him out a bit. “Jinnie,” you whispered, a firm hand on his chest, “Lie back for me.” 

“I love hearing that again,” Seokjin admitted through a content smile, starting a fire across your cheeks. He leaned back after giving you another peck, and you plucked yourself from his thighs to take your shoes off. 

But time was your biggest motivator to strip most of your clothes at that moment - not just your boots. Your pants were first, followed by your sweater, and finally your shirt. The whole time, Seokjin stayed propped on his elbows, watching you intently. He couldn’t hide the adoration in his eyes even if he tried. As he watched you stand there in nothing but your set, he smiled. “You’re beautiful.” 

“Thank you,” you whispered in return. “Still not as great as you, though.” You started unbuttoning his jeans before he could defend his stance, and he lifted his lower body to help you shrug them off with his underwear. When Seokjin’s thick cock sprung free, your heart jumped at the sight. It had been so long since you felt it, tasted it, rode it. Was he thinking the same? Taking his velvety length in your hand for the first time in a long time, you felt a burst of confidence at its familiarity and his response.

“Baby,” he groaned, running a hand through his hair. “Please.” 

You didn’t need another word. At the sound of the familiar pet name, you already started hovering over his cock, admiring how pretty it was before diving in. Licking around the head, you used the slick to glide your mouth far down his shaft, rolling your hand along the bottom to coat the rest. 

Seokjin jolted at the sudden pleasure, and you felt a pang in your heart. You wanted him to remember this night. And you were much more experienced than you were before, though you would only get so much time to prove your growth. 

Coming up for air, you used your hand to gather the rest of your spit and slide it down his cock, rubbing it a few times before diving down again. The stilted, garbled noises coming from your filled mouth were even getting your own underwear soaked, but they weren’t a match for Seokjin’s. His delicious grunts and moans sent you close to the edge. They were deeper than you remembered, and he wasn’t one to shy away from showing you how turned on and pleasured he was feeling.

The prominent veins of his cock were the roads along which your tongue traveled, and you made sure to love them all in between stuffing him fully in your warm mouth. He was so big, but you wanted to take every inch, tears welling in your eyes with your efforts. 

You fought through even when you felt him rock the back of your throat. Seokjin took that moment to sit up, causing tears to leak fully down your cheeks at the deeper thrust. His hands dove into your hair, but he didn’t force your head down. Instead, they tugged you off his cock, and he gazed down lovingly at your wrecked expression. Jin’s voice dipped an octave and came out coated in sin as he asked, “Can you go a little more for me, beautiful?” 

Your body tingled on instinct. You nodded and, when he smiled, you gripped his drenched dick in your fingers before descending your mouth onto his balls. Seokjin bucked his hips forward in a jolt as you grinned, lapping at his salty skin and delighting in the tremulous groans rolling down your back. Your hand squeezed the tip of his shaft before you straightened again, taking his cock captive without pause.

“Shit,” he grunted, his long fingers diving into your hair. His hands still didn’t push you down further, oddly, so you took the initiative and plunged down yourself. 

The feel of his cock in your mouth was so familiar. It was almost second nature how easily you sucked him off, knowing when to hollow your cheeks and pull him further down the abyss of ecstasy. When to sink further and hum, ripping a delicious sound from his throat. Even when to bob and swirl your head around, effectively shutting down his ability to function. 

It was then that you chose to really bring it home. You breathed through your nose as you took more and more of him in, even after you couldn’t breathe anymore. You felt your nose hit this pubic bone, and the long moan you got from Seokjin was worth the burn in your throat. His fingers tightened around your head, but when you came up gasping for air he didn’t stop you. 

“Come here,” is all he said, tugging you up to straddle him again. A trail of saliva swung from your lips as you came up, but you paid it no mind. If anything, it added to the building lust inside your bones. Your panties were absolutely drenched by now, so dragging your core along Seokjin’s cock caused both of you to twinge. “Fuck,” he gasped, fueling your heat. 

“Jinnie, please,” you whimpered, your voice hoarse. You wanted everything from him at once. You were getting impatient, and the overwhelming time pressure was stressing you the hell out. “I need you, please.” 

Suddenly, everything stopped as Seokjin cradled your chin and swiped the spit from your lips. “You have me,” he assured you. “You have all of me.” He kissed your nose. “And you’ll have me for a very long time.” 

Relenting, you leaned into his touch. “Now is what I’m concerned about.” 

“I know,” he agreed before kissing you again. “I just wanted you to know the rest.” 

“Okay,” you whispered before capturing his full lips with your own. When you felt him wrapping his arms around you, your heart leaped into your throat. When you felt him shift the both of you to lower you onto the bed, you already knew fresh tears were waiting behind your eyes. 

With great care, Jin slipped your underwear off your smooth legs. Your bra was deftly unhooked next - not without an eyebrow raise from you and a wink from him - and tossed from the bed. 

Staring at your naked form, Seokjin appeared completely lost in thought. It got to the point where you felt like covering yourself, but when you attempted to he swiftly denied any insecurity. “Don’t keep this from me,” he whispered. “I want to remember everything.” 

You kept it together until then. Something in you broke and you softly choked on a cry. So he was thinking the same as you. This was the last night for a long time. 

Starting from your shoulder, he kissed his way down along your neck, your collarbone, your chest. Taking one breast in one hand, he swirled his tongue around the nipple of the other. You gasped from the sudden burst of pleasure, which made Seokjin repeat the motion on the other side. He then lightly sucked on the nipple, releasing it with a small pop. 

You wanted to close your eyes and lose yourself in the waves of pleasure he was giving you, making his way down your body. But you wanted to relive this night again and again. So you had to keep your eyes on him. Only him. His mouth’s searing heat as it kissed along your stomach, and the stark cold left behind when he moved on. His soft touch as he gently pried your legs open, and dark, lust-filled eyes as he stared at your dripping entrance. You wanted to remember the way he kissed along your legs, nipping in some places to make you gasp. The way his beautiful lips connected with your heat in a reverent kiss before his tongue explored inside. Each flick of his tongue, squeeze of his fingers on your legs, noise from his lips. How you loved him through every second of him worshipping you. 

As soon as he brought his fingers up to caress your folds while sucking on your clit, you had to stop him. It was too much. You wanted to feel him when you broke. 

Seokjin wordlessly obeyed as he crawled above you. You pulled him down for a kiss, not caring how he tasted. Your hands then went to his shoulders as he positioned himself at your entrance. 

“Are you still…” 

“Yes,” you nodded, touched that he remembered. “I’m still on it.” 

“Okay.” He swooped down to capture your lips, and when you clenched your fingers around his shoulders, he grunted. “Are you okay to take it all?” 

“Go slow. For now,” you said, earning a nod. “It’s been awhile.”

Seokjin’s gaze was heavy as he prepared himself. “Same.” 

At the initial push, you whooshed out a gasp. It had been way too long since you’d been with someone. The intrusion indeed hurt. Maybe you should have let him prep you more, in hindsight. But Seokjin was nothing but tender as he waited for you to adjust. Once you were okay, he steadily pushed out and in again, going deeper. Slowly but surely, you were able to fully take him in. 

And the feel of him completely inside you was nothing like you’ve felt before. It was comfort. It was home. It was a perfect fit, and you wanted to stay like that forever. 

“God,” Seokjin groaned, “I don’t want to leave this room.” 

You chuckled, rolling your hips. “Hmm, pussy or Harvard. That’s a pretty tough one.” 

“If it’s yours, Harvard can wait,” Seokjin grunted before sending your thoughts spiraling with a huge thrust. You outright whined at him, but he pulled out only to spear you again with one long motion. “You still like it rough, baby?” 

Chills cascaded down your spine and pooled at the apex of your toes. This was the Seokjin you were waiting for. You wondered if he was still into that after witnessing everything he was doing for you beforehand. But oh, were you ready for the pivot. “Fuck, yes,” you moaned. “You know I do.” 

“You still have your word?” 

“Carousel, yes.” 

“Good girl.” That was all Seokjin needed. Grabbing the top of the headboard behind you, he launched into a rough and relentless pace that had you seeing stars. You felt so full, yet so weightless as you let your body go limp. The feel of Seokjin’s cock slamming into you repeatedly would continue to exist for months after tonight, the ridges of it sliding along your walls never forgotten entirely. You needed as much as he could give, and he knew that. 

Gripping one of your legs, he hauled it over his sweat-slicked shoulder and tilted himself to reach a deeper position, twisting his reddened face to plant kisses on your ankle. Mewl after mewl tumbled from your lips at the deep thrusts. 

“Touch yourself for me, baby,” Jin commanded while still pounding into you, and you wouldn’t dream of disobeying. Your fingers went straight for your jiggling breasts, teasing your nipples and tugging them for his blown out eyes. You moaned, and smirked when you saw Seokjin beginning to lose himself. 

His tell was his scrunched eyebrows, and his eyes shifting down to watch his cock ram into your tight cunt. You still knew, after years. 

You fell into complete ecstasy when he reached down with his free hand to rub your clit between your bodies, loving the way the veins in his arms protruded. Imagining licking along them all made you moan. And you didn’t care if the people around you heard. All of your mewls, moans, whines - they were all for Jin. He could have all of you again and again.  

After one particularly deep thrust, he tugged his cock out, leaving your walls fluttering around an agonizing emptiness. “Turn around. On your knees.” 

“Holy fuck, yes,” you rasped. He wasn’t letting the night go to waste at all. 

Before you even assumed the next position, you felt a hand come down on your ass. The smack jolted you forward in pain, with pleasure settling in its wake. 

“So pretty,” Seokjin whispered, ghosting his hand over the spot he spanked. He gave it another smack before gripping your ass cheeks apart. You assumed he was roving his eyes over your drenched core. “And still so wet.” 

“Just for you,” you affirmed. 

“Just for me,” he repeated before adjusting his knees on the bed to get closer. “But you might be too loud tonight, baby. I’m going to need silence from you this time.” 

Shit. You were never, ever good at this part. But you nodded. What you weren’t expecting right away was the initial stroke to be rough, right down to the hilt. You cried out immediately, earning you a harsh spank. 

Seokjin’s sudden laugh made you chuckle in embarrassment. He breathily joked, “Out of practice?” 

“Something like that,” you admitted, your elbows and grin lost in the sheets. “I’m rusty.” 

“Okay, let’s just do this then.” Jin leaned forward, stretching over you. You groaned at the feel of his solid chest on your soft back, your eyes rolling into your head feeling him completely mold into you for a moment. He got a fluffy pillow from the other side of the bed and let your head rest on it. “Can you bite this for me, my love?” 

The new name spread wildfire across your face. “Yes. That I can do,” you assured him. When you had the material securely in your mouth, you nodded to signal he could continue. 

“Good girl.” And continue Seokjin did. He went right back into the dominant Jin he loved being, and the one you loved being with. There was no mercy in his thrusts, stroke after stroke after stroke. If you lifted your back a little or lowered your butt, he smacked your supple flesh and corrected you instantly. “Ass up, baby.” 

With Jin’s relentless pace, your body went limp and hung on by a thread. Loosening up allowed for even more of his cock, and your muffled moans started getting louder the closer and closer you got to the edge. You could feel your core tightening, threatening to unleash the pent up tension. 

“That’s it, beautiful,” Seokjin praised, feeling your walls squeeze around him. “Do you want to come like this?”

You hastily shook your head. You wanted to see him when you came. And if you remembered correctly, he loved seeing your face when it happened, as well.

“Too bad,” he chuckled darkly, and you almost came undone right then. “Guess you’ll have to come again the way you want to later.” Reaching under you, he toyed with your clit as he kept the pace from behind. 

You let go of the pillowcase as you kicked your head back in a moan, your saliva trail slowly gravitating toward the sheets. Seokjin only let you breathe for a second before pushing your head back down into the thin material. “Make noise again and you won’t come at all.”

Fuck. You bit hard into the pillow, tears forming at the corners of your eyes as you felt yourself losing control. His fingers felt divine on your bundle of nerves, his dick sliding through your folds over and over and over. The hand he placed on your head smoothed over your hair before bunching it and tugging. You reared back, dots swimming in your vision. “God, I want to choke you. Can I do that, my love?” 

You released the pillow from your mouth again. His consideration was top notch tonight. Too much? You couldn’t decide or really care. “Yes, just do it. Do anything. Please. I’m so close.” 

“Mm. Then cover your mouth.” Before you could follow his command, Seokjin pulled you up by a shoulder to be flush against his front. Sweat coated your back and your ass, causing you to slide down his chiseled stomach while speared on his cock. A strong hand wrapped around your throat, and the fingers that were teasing your clit mercilessly now ventured into the front of your folds. 

One of your hands shot up to clamp over your mouth right before you let out a long groan. You loved when he took control, and when he lost control. If both happened at the same time, it was heaven. 

You could barely last on your knees as his dick slammed up into you repeatedly. The hand around your airway was tight but only just, his praises in your ear being the real culprit of your stolen breath. Your pussy clenched harshly around his length, and you knew from the tight coil in your body that you were seconds from euphoria. 

Seokjin felt it instantly. “Come, baby.” And as soon as he relinquished your throat did you give in, waves of pleasure coursing through you and a white burn shimmering in your lungs. It seemed endless. Ripple after ripple thrummed through your body, your joints slowly unlocking from their initial freeze. Behind you, Seokjin groaned and sang sweet nothings in your ear, his arms wrapping around your chest in a scorching embrace. 

The high ebbed, but did not completely recede. You knew Jin still needed release, so you kissed his wrist next to your shoulder and whispered, “I want to see you now.”

“Whatever you need.” Seokjin slowly unsheathed himself, and you felt a slight pain. You watched as he positioned his back on the headboard. He knew what you wanted to do. 

You made your way over to him and hovered over his length. Locking your hazy eyes with his dark set, you kissed him lazily as you languidly sank back onto him. Seokjin groaned when you didn’t use your hand as a guide beforehand. And frankly, that turned you on, too.

“You’re so tight still,” he grunted, his hands coming up and grabbing your ass before settling on your hips. 

You rolled your hips before finding a rhythm. “You’re just big,” you mock complained, earning a deep chuckle. 

“Aww. You sound. So. Sad,” he teased, thrusting up into you to punctuate each word. Your mewls were welcome now since he was done with his role. Now he could just sit back and enjoy your show for him. And occasionally torture you. 

You found your rhythm again, rougher with him now with your hands in his dark, sweaty locks. One of your hands dropped onto his chest and raked down his breast, eliciting a higher moan than normal. 

The sound caused heat to pool between your legs again, and you upped the pace. Your thighs burned from the exertion, but you kept yourself distracted by diving into Jin’s neck and nipping in multiple places. His arms left your hips to wrap around your back, and your breath faltered as he took over again. 

Seokjin was close. He was always close when his limbs locked hard into place. His upward thrusts were fast and hard, and you could only moan in his ear and take him in. The coil that released once tonight was tightening again, and you murmured in his ear that you were close. 

Seokjin only needed to kiss you like his life depended on it for you to unravel again. The wave was weaker than last time, but it could still cover mountains. Your head felt light, dancing above the clouds with no intention of coming down. You pushed yourself from his lips, allowing him to see your flushed chest and reddened cheeks. The second orgasm faded and loosened your limbs, but your heart felt completely connected to his, your soul nestled into the comfort of his tender embrace. “I love you,” you sighed, and you immediately felt a huge twitch between your folds.

“Lie down, baby. I’m close.” 

“It’s okay,” you whispered, cradling his cheek. “Come inside me, Jinnie. I wanna feel you.” 

“Shit,” he grunted. His thrusts descended into madness. Your heart rattled at the sight of his dusted red cheeks, sweaty neck, heaving chest. He was the most beautiful man you’d ever seen, and the one you would overturn stars to find should you ever lose him again. 

When he gazed down at your joined sex, you took in the wet strands of hair on his forehead. When he kicked his head back against the headboard to look at you with lidded eyes, you bit your swollen lips. This wonderful man was your lover, your ex, your friend, and now your lover again. Only this time, you truly loved him back. And you wanted to think back to this moment forever. 

Tears sprung into your eyes as he pulled you in for a searing kiss, and his orgasm released into you in spurts. The thrusts he made then were slow and powerful, and your body bobbed with the swells. You kissed him harder than necessary, almost willing to bruise your own lips on his. The longer you held his lips captive, the longer he couldn’t see your sorrow. 

But Seokjin already felt the drops ping his chest. He just let you cry because that’s what you needed. Even when he broke from the kiss, he never said a word. He trailed kisses along your wet cheeks, your sweaty nose, and your glistening forehead. His poignant visage held nothing but stars, and it reminded you of the night you fell in love, crushing your spirit ever more. 

Touch after touch after touch only coaxed more tears from your eyes. It felt never ending as you sat spent in his lap, still on his softening length. Sheer willpower was what caused you to finally speak, your voice hoarse, “We should clean up. You still need to pack and sleep.”

“We should, and I do,” he whispered. He patted your bum. “Can you get up by yourself?” 

You nodded before extracting yourself from his firm thighs, lamenting the fact that human bodies had limits. As you waddled to the bathroom, you stumbled along the way, Seokjin softly chuckled while following you and steadying you when needed. Even when you shot empty glares at him, the smile in his eyes never left. 

The rest of your time spent in his room consisted of silence and kisses. Ever the gentleman, he let you lie down on his bed while he used the other half for the bags to pack. It didn’t take him too long since he was organized from the jump, so when he was done he cleared the bed and joined you under the covers. When you felt a weight on your stomach, you looked down to see your camera dumped on the comforter. 

Seokjin wrapped a strong arm behind your neck. “What do you call naked pictures taken with a Polaroid?” 

“Oh, no.” You turned your head to face him. “What?” 

“Just pictures. But that’s old nudes.” 

You punished him by attacking his sides instantly, yanking a batch of honky laughs from him. Knowing your own weaknesses still, he unleashed his own parry, and it took a minute for the both of you to settle in a draw. 

“Don’t tell me the only reason you brought this into the bed was to tell that horrid joke,” you chuckled, your head back to resting in your pillow. 

“Nope. I wanna take one of us.” 

After getting past all seven of your objections and excuses, Seokjin whittled your walls down and got you to agree. The end product existed on the last film in your Polaroid: a crooked snapshot of him kissing your cheek as you smiled with creased eyes, sheets held against your chest. And he conceded in letting you keep it after watching you clutch it lovingly in your fingers. 

You immediately sought comfort in his embrace after setting the photo next to your phone on the nightstand, and he stole multiple kisses from you way after your eyes couldn’t stay open any longer. 

“Get some sleep, my love,” Seokjin whispered. 

And despite your sound of protest, you were pulled into the abyss of sleep right as you felt pillowy lips caress your forehead.

Rin-Rin [6:40am]: You’re lucky I love you. I packed your stuff and left out an outfit for you when you come down. Just don’t be late or I’ll drag you back down myself :)))

Jiminie [6:45am]: RISE N SHINE LOVEBIRDS

Rin-Rin [6:46am]: Oh, yeah, I may or may not have texted Jimin. 

Jiminie [6:46am]: ABOUT TIME

Jiminie [6:46am]: !!!

Tae [6:47am]: jimins scream woke me up. i can only assume that means ill get to be an uncle soon. dont let me down i want this(: 

Joonie [6:48am]: Aaaaaaaaaa !!!

Jiminie [6:48am]: And I know you want to yell at me for yesterday so I am ready for that whenever you are

Kook [6:50am]: <3 

You smiled at your texts before locking your phone. Seokjin was already up and about, making sure everything was packed and accounted for. When he saw you stirring, he came over and surprised you with a kiss so deep that it revitalized your sagging emotional state. “Morning,” you chuckled, swinging your sore legs out of the sheets and wincing at the cold. “I need to head back down.”

“Yeah, Rin already sent the first round of threats. I’ll see you at the car, okay?” 

You pecked him on the cheek after you slipped on your boots and grabbed your Polaroid.  Stepping into the hallway, you kept reminding yourself to not completely lose it yet. There was still a whole car ride you got to have with him, and you were determined to slow down time however you could. 

Your phone buzzed again, and you assumed Yoongi and Hoseok were just now waking up and getting the gossip. Checking your notifications only validated your guess.

Hobi [6:52am]: AHHHHH HAPPY FOR U~!!!

Hobi [6:52am]: ASLSKDJSKDHSKDJ

Yoongi [6:53am]: I’ll make sure to drag him back sometimes. It’s ludicrous to say that we’d never see him again. Drama queen. Anyways, happy for you. If you need anything, let me know. 

Hobi [6:53am]: we’ll see seokjinnie again love. and if u miss him a lot then we can make sure you see him. im sure he’ll be missing u too

How you were able to win the friend lottery and meet these people, you had no clue. But you weren’t going to ever question the fact. All you would do was embrace your blessings and love them. 

The car ride to the airport was long, but still much too short for your liking. Between the loving gazes you directed at Seokjin as he sang along to Taehyung’s music, the looks full of mirth Jimin gave the both of you from the backseat, and the laughter of both Rin and Taehyung, you were the happiest you’ve felt in a very long time. 

Throughout the ride, you got the feeling that you were going to be okay. Seokjin was starting an insane adventure, but you were also going to be there every step of the way. Not just on the polaroid he decided to stash in his bag, but in his heart and on his mind like Namjoon said around the fire. 

There were still plenty of ways to see each other and communicate. And since he technically didn’t start until next summer, that gave you plenty of time to see him before then. The many possibilities made you question your hesitation in the first place. 

But none of that diminished how much of a struggle it was still going to be. 

When the car rolled to a stop in the airport parking lot, your chest constricted. When everyone got their bags out of the cars and started the trek to the shuttles, your hands shook on your straps. As soon as everyone started saying their byes and separating to check into their airlines, you found it hard to breathe. 

But a tender hand brushed through your hair, and plush lips connected with your forehead. In an instant, you felt okay again. 

Seokjin’s calm voice slipped over your features. “Your flight leaves in two hours, right?” When you nodded, he continued, “Okay. Come shop with me before I have to go to my gate!” 

You tried your best to keep a positive attitude while you watched Jin peruse different airport stores. When he would hold stuff up for you to approve, you would smile or dramatically turn things down. Even the cute neck pillow he really wanted got the dreaded rejection. 

But that was only so you could pay for it when he wasn’t looking and surprise him. The huge laugh and grin you got in return was worth the trouble. 

When it was time for Seokjin to head to his gate, you brought him in for a crushing hug. “Let me know when you land,” you demanded. 

“Of course, honey,” he said through a smile. 

“‘Honey,’ now?” You regarded him with a raised eyebrow. “You have so many nicknames for me. I can’t keep up. Do you have a favorite you could stick with?” 

Seokjin rested his chin on your head. “Ah, I have a favorite. But it’s not true yet, so I shouldn’t use it.” 

A fire ignited in your heart, the flames warming you from the inside. “And which one is that?” 

“Would you look at the time!” Jin’s body heat left you in a rush as he stepped away, and your instinctual pout made him laugh outright. He cupped your chin for a kiss that rocked your whole being before pulling away. His eyes held galaxies in them when he stared into yours. “Guess you’ll have to wait for the answer to that one.” 

“You’re a jerk, Jinnie,” you huffed, but you kissed him again. “You’re lucky I love you.” 

“I really am. And I love you,” he responded. His hand came down to squeeze yours before he had to part. “I’ll let you know when I make it. Call me when you get home, okay?” 

“Okay,” you replied, and you watched his long strides with a heavy heart and a hopeful mind. 

As you told yourself again and again, you were going to be okay. It was going to be tough, it was going to be absolutely painful. But as long as you decided to keep loving each other, everything would work out. 

You knew better than anyone that love was a choice. And for Seokjin, you would choose it a thousand times over. 

And besides, the current state of technology was on your side. The possibilities of communication were too endless for you to dwell on the distance. Were there going to be days in which you only received one text? Most likely. Were there going to be weeks where you weren’t going to hear much from Seokjin at all? Definitely. But this time, unlike last time, you welcomed every bit of it. Your heart built a bridge to his that defied any sense of physical distance. On opposite sides, both of you were achieving success in your own ways. In the end, you would always come back to each other to celebrate together. Even though this was the last November trip you had with Seokjin, it was the beginning of many, many wonderful years to come.

It was later, while you were waiting for your own flight to finish boarding, that a message was sent to your phone. 

Jinnie [12:04pm]: Attachment: 1 Image

You couldn’t help but grin. As you gazed lovingly at the picture of Seokjin smiling next to your polaroid, another one came in before you could respond.

Jinnie [12:05pm]: Until you’re really next to me, this will have to do. Don’t get too jealous! 

You laughed to yourself, rolling your eyes while setting the image as your wallpaper. Locking your phone, you tapped the glass to see your screen light up, observing the picture again.

On a plane heading to another city entirely, Seokjin was doing the exact same thing. Except in his case, he was smiling down at a girl caught in mid-laughter, body aglow from the bright yellow lights of a spinning carousel behind her. 

-

-

-

a/n: whewww so if you made it to the end, hi! i seriously enjoyed writing this and i learned so much. it’s my first fic and first huge one-shot, so if you have any comments/concerns/constructive feedback, please let me know! my ask box is always open, too. lastly, here is my m.list if you want to browse! 🌨🌨🌨 ++ feedback box (added nov. 25th, 2021): ⇥ of course, any reblogs/comments/messages are appreciated! ⇥ for the ones that aren’t okay with reblogging with a review, commenting on this, or sending a message, i went ahead and made another anonymous form where you can send in what you think! ⇥ no emails collected, no need to put in a username. it’s literally just a feedback dropbox :D ⇥ here!   ++ ⇥ masterlist 

[wittyrosebush]

Dream SMP Reacting to a Witch!Hybrid

Pronouns: they/them

Includes: Dream, Quackity, Wilbur, qnd Tommy (PLATONIC)

Warnings: Meantion of drugs, swearing

A/N: This is based off of the canon characters and is set in the time of the Pogtopia/Manburg war!!! I might write a second part if this goes well. Also, this is the first thing I have written for this fandom, so I hope I get the character personalities correct. This is not beta read, so please don't attack me on my poor grammar skills. 😅

I hope you all enjoy!!! 💙

Dream

He was mining when he first met you

Dream heard a malicious cackle on the dark side of the cave and slowly drew his sword

He decided to charge towards the strange noise and was quickly met with an invisible body under him

He furrowed his brows and felt the body shuffle out from under him

"BEGONE STRANGE MAN"

"... excuse me?"

After a moment, Y/N's potion has worn off

"Fuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuck-"

Dream chuckled and put away his sword, deciding the person in front of him wasn't a threat

After Y/n calmed down, the two had a talk, explaining the situation

Turns out, you had thought of a joke while mining for redstone (hence the laughter)

"So where is your hat and huge nose? You are really attractive for a witch."

"Luckily, I got my attributes from my father. What was that last part?."

"Wait, what about your hat?"

"I haven't done laundry in a few days.... hold up did you just say I was attractive?"

Ever since then Dream has had you by his side partly because he is a little clingy creating potions for him and the rest of the dream team

"How do you feel about cursing children?"

"I'm not that kind of witch, Dream."

"But what if he was being a little blonde bitch?"

"DREAMWASTAKEN I SWEAR TO GOD-"

Loves bringing you stuff to use for your projects

Need blaze rods for a new brewing stand? Done.

Need lapis lazuli so you have a chance for better communication? Done.

Anything you want? Done.

He will literally go to the nether for a few hours and come back with his arms full of whatever you need

And if you don't need anything or just need to take a break, he'll spend the day taking you anywhere that he think you would be happiest

He has you make him a lot of potions, bragging to everyone on the server how much better at creating potions you are

"Y/n's potions last longer, are more effective, prettier-"

"Are you sure? I think-"

"Tell me what you think, I fuckin dare you >:( ."

Overall, he is your #1 supporter

Quackity

The day had been long, dealing with Schlatt definitely tires a guy out after 5 minutes

On his walk on the outskirts of the Manburg wall, he spotted a suspicious row of blaze powder leading to the woods

Dawning his armor and a sword, he followed the trail to a small hut

He could see the outline of someone in the hut nervously pacing around

Deciding what he thought was the best possible option, he knocked on the door of the hut

There was immediately the sound of glass bottles falling on the floor and muffled words

Soon, the door swung open to reveal a disheveled being with a nervous grin

And Quackity went from tough to awkward

"C-Can I help you with something?"

"Uh, do you waNT SOME DRUGS?"

"ExCuSe Me?!"

Everything was going to shit

After a moment of awkward staring, a glass bottle tumbled off the brewing stand

Upon focusing on what was going on behind the two people trying and failing to act normal, they both saw that every brewing stand was on fire

"ARE YOU ACTUALLY MAKING DRUGS?!"

"NO I'M JUST REALLY BAD AT THIS POTION."

Finally putting the fire out together, the two looked at their now soot stained clothes

The witch hybrid ran a hand through their hair and sighed

"Well this is completely ruined."

Quackity frowned a little hesitant to offer his help

"If you need to you could borrow some brewing stands-"

"Really? *-* "

On the walk back to Manburg, you explained who you were

Quackity was still a little confused

"Wait but what potion were you even brewing?"

"Fire resistance."

He immediately burst out laughing, which ended up with you slapping his arm repeatedly

Eventually, you two became the definition of the "friends to lovers" trope

You often helped him de-stress after stressful days in office with Schlatt

He'd try whatever you recommended

"I'd suggest putting quartz on your nightstand."

"Cool!"

Later that night, you forgot something at his house

Once you walked into his house, you could see stacks of quartz next to his bed.

He really trusted any advice you could give him

And on days where people would criticize you for being part witch?

Big Q will attack anyone

Even if he knows he will lose

And at random parts of the day he'll just tell you oddly inspirational thoughts

"You are a bad bitch, dare I say a bad witch. Own that shit."

"That is oddly motivational, thank you. :) "

Wilbur

The former president was strolling along the side of a river, trying to form a coherent plan of action

Upon noticing a person trudging out of the water fumbling with glass bottles, Wilbur jogged over to them and put a careful hand on their shoulder

"Are you okay?"

The person moved the soggy hat out of their face and smiled

"Yeah, I just fell in the water while trying to fill up some of the bottles, but thanks for checking on me!"

He hummed in response, wondering why he was already so interested in the being before him

"Well I should probably get going, but thank you!"

"Wait! What's you name?"

"It's Y/n, and you are..?"

"Wilbur Soot, it was an honor meeting you, Y/n."

This man spent the rest of the night thinking about you and who the hell you were

He didn't know much about the mysterious person, but he did know that they were one of the most alluring people he had met in a long time

It was weeks since he saw you, Wilbur nearly gave up searching

That was until you walked into him on a rainy day

The brunette immediately went in defensive position and pulled the stranger to his chest, despite the dampened clothes

"Um, Mr. Soot?"

He looked down to see you and his face lit up

"Y/n! It's a pleasure to see you again."

He took a small step back and kissed your hand

No one can convince me that Wilbur "Gentleman" Soot does not flirt by giving hand kisses

The two went into Pogtopia and Wilbur almost immediately wrapped his coat around you

"What were you doing out there? The rain is coming down so hard you must not have been able to see well."

"I was going to ask if I could borrow a few golden carrots for a potion I'm making."

Wilbur nodded and walked towards the stared and whisper shouted down

"TOMMY BRING ME SOME GOLDEN CARROTS!"

"BUT WILBUR, I-"

"PLEASE DON'T MAKE ME LOOK BAD IN FRONT OF THE STUNNING WITCH!"

The boy at the bottom of the stairs grumbled and the tall man sat next to you once more

After a few minutes of Wilbur fawning over everything you did, a blonde male walked up the steps and glared at Wilbur as he handed you the carrots

"Simp..."

Wilbur dramatically gasped as you chuckled next to him

You eventually started coming over to Pogtopia practically every day

Most of the time it was to see Wilbur, but the rest of your time was spent creating potions for the war

As the nation grew, you were brought out of your shell more with Wilbur introducing you to everyone

He didn't want you to feel uncomfortable in a new place

You often walked along the same riverbank where you met

You have definitely pushed each other off a few times

He keeps small things that you enjoy on him at all times

He keeps a tiny bottle of sand from the river you met at, a piece of your old robe, and so much more in his pockets

Whenever he feels like he's in a dark place or justneeds to ground himself he takes out one of the items and just holds it close.

Mans is so in love

Tommy

He met you in the nether while you were farming netherwart

The blonde was thrilled to find a new fortress and decided to raid it before reinforcements came

Seeing a sleeping figure next to a bed of sould sand, he took a few congident steps forward

Once close enough, he poked you with the stick

"You good?"

"I was good when I was asleep."

"AYE I THOUGHT YOU WERE DEAD SO-"

After arguing for what felt like hours, you both stormed off to find both exits being blocked by wither skeletons

Tommy had gotten beaten up pretty bad after the fight so you took him back to your hut to get all patched up

"I didn't even need your help. I'm tougher than I look."

"You legitimately passed out twice on the way here."

"HOW DARE YOU, I WAS RESTING MY EYES!"

After a few hours of healing and a ton of laighter, you two became the most chaotic duo in the smp

This british raccoon child would often steal small potions to pull pranks

But unless they were really important and you needed them back, you'd always join in on the pranks

He tried to get you to make a potion using the 'Tubbo Bath Water' one time

It did not end well

At the point in your friendship where you revealed you were a hybrid, Tommy was so confused

"That makes no sense, witches are still humans, right?"

"Yeah..?"

"So how does that make you a hybrid?"

👁👄👁

"Listen here you little shit-"

He likes to show you off to anyone that can listen

"You think you're special? HA! I have a best friend that is part witch and they will kick your ass. >:)"

He is really interested in everything you do but will never ask

But if you tell him about what you're doing unprovoked?

Tommy would get so happy

He is so excited to learn what you have to teach and would be one of the best friends ever

[robininthelabyrinth]

MDZS prompt: Maybe Lan Wanji realising his feelings before the war and hesitantly trying to court Wei Wuxian while he is a student? Or non-war AU where Lan Wanji chooses to marry into Jiang Sect rather than see Wei Wuxian struggle under Lan way of life only to find he really likes being a Jiang (maybe gets on well with in-laws)

It was Madame Yu that came to find out what the fight was about, of course.

Her husband was still injured from the fight against Wen Ruohan some years back, the one that had won the Nie sect so much acclaim and which to this day made Sect Leader Jin’s teeth grit and his blood boil, and he rarely travelled far any more. No one was entirely sure why this change had led to Madame Yu’s abrupt improvement in temper; perhaps it was that he was unlikely to have more children, or perhaps her worries had finally been appeased by his formal announcement that he would start the slow process of handing over the tasks of Sect Leader to Jiang Cheng when he came fully of age.

The changes hadn’t made much of a difference to Wei Wuxian’s life before, since Madame Yu hadn’t had a radical personality transplant, still being harsh and vicious, but he had to admit that it was extremely pleasant to see her make mincemeat of Sect Leader Jin using nothing but her sharp tongue.

She even threatened to revoke the engagement, which everyone knew she wouldn’t do – well, everyone but Sect Leader Jin, that was. Either way, he put on such a disgraceful appearance that Wei Wuxian and Jiang Cheng had ended up sympathizing with Jin Zixuan for the first time in their lives, and somehow when the punishment that had been imposed on all three of them was over they were maybe even something resembling friends that only mildly hated each other.

Madame Yu had decided to stay at the Cloud Recesses for the duration of the punishment, for reasons known only to her, and it was her that raised the topic over dinner one evening.

“You need to stop playing with that boy’s heart,” she said, drinking her soup with grace and only a slight wrinkling of the nose over the fact that it was, yet again, vegetarian.

Jiang Cheng looked at Wei Wuxian and Wei Wuxian looked at Jiang Cheng and neither of them saw Jiang Yanli anywhere around – her being back at the Lotus Pier, that was reasonable – so they both looked in askance at Madame Yu.

“Wei Wuxian,” she clarified. “You’ve been playing courting games with the Second Young Master Lan for weeks under my very nose; do you think I haven’t noticed?”

Wei Wuxian gaped. “Courting games? With – Lan Zhan? That’s impossible. I don’t cut my sleeve.”

“You should let him know that, then,” she said. “He’s already completed seven of the twelve courtship rites the Lans require before a proposal of marriage.”

“Are you sure?” Jiang Cheng asked, a little doubtful. “I thought he hated Wei Wuxian.”

“Hatred and affection can often look very similar to the untrained eye,” Madame Yu said. “Well, Wei Wuxian? What are you going to do about it?”

“I – I…”

“He’ll tell him tomorrow, of course,” Jiang Cheng said. “What else would he do?”

“I need to think about it,” Wei Wuxian said, and dashed out of the house they’d all been occupying.

Madame Yu smiled into her cup of tea. “Jinzhu, go tell Lan Qiren that I’d like to speak with him tomorrow afternoon,” she said to her maidservant. “And tell him that this may be something that requires Qingheng-jun’s approval.”

“What do you need Sect Leader Lan’s approval for?” Jiang Cheng asked, blinking as the maidservant headed out.

“Settling the terms of the marriage, of course.”

“Marriage? But Wei Wuxian isn’t going to –”

Madame Yu left the Cloud Recesses for the Lotus Pier with her son and eldest disciple in tow three days later, marriage contract in hand and a smug expression on her face.

-

The Lotus Pier was very different from the Cloud Recesses.

Lan Wangji still habitually rose every morning at the prescribed hour and went to bed at the same, but unlike the quiet serenity of Gusu, the people of Yunmeng were always active, day or night.

There was a market at every hour: the morning fish-market, full of bickering fishwives and rowdy fishermen that all knew Lan Wangji by sight and called out to him; the midday mixed market, full of every type of ware imaginable from artisan crafts to flowers to clothing to fruit to food; and even after the afternoon rest period ended it was only the start of setting up for the night market, as much Wei Wuxian’s domain as the morning market was Lan Wangji’s.

They went together, sometimes.

Wei Wuxian would yawn and complain at first, wrinkling his nose at the smell of raw fish, but he’d marvel over the sunrise and make fast friends with everyone he met, making silly expressions as he tried new types of food minutes after the ingredients had been pulled out of the waves.

For his part, Lan Wangji would indulgently hold all the things Wei Wuxian bought in the night market. It was usually food: sticks of tanghulu, skewers of grilled seafood, cheese broiled lobsters and spicy rice-cakes. Sometimes it was clothing, usually gifts; other times it was just knick-knacks that nobody needed but which Wei Wuxian simply had to have and usually gave away a few moments later.

At other times, they went to the lotus ponds, where Wei Wuxian taught him how to eat fresh-picked lotus seeds and tried to teach him how to run away when the owners came yelling (Lan Wangji refused to run and paid more in silver for the seeds they’d taken than the entire pond was worth); they went to the restaurants, where Lan Wangji ate food that burned his mouth and made his eyes fill with tears that Wei Wuxian would wipe away with his fingers, feeding him white rice and promising him he’d adjust soon enough; they walked along the river in the light of the sunset, hand in hand, saying nothing at all.

At least one day a week, Wei Wuxian would insist on taking Lan Wangji somewhere new, to see or do something he hadn’t done yet; it was as if he were anxious to show him everything there was to see about Yunmeng before their six months were up, before they went back to Gusu for the six months of the year that they would spend there, no matter how many times Madame Yu impatiently reminded him that there was no need to rush.

No need to rush at all: after all, they were married, now. They had the rest of their lives to show each other everything they wanted.

And yet – Lan Wangji understood a little of that urgency. He spent entire afternoons writing lists of things in Gusu he would show Wei Wuxian when they went back there: the secret springs, the gardens, the grove he’d pretended to tend when he was just a child. He’d take him to the fruit orchard and feed him plums and cherries plucked straight from the trees, see the red smeared over his smiling mouth and use his own to kiss it clean.

He’d take him to the place where they kept his mother’s memorial tablet, and they would kneel in front of it together again, the way they had at his wedding, and this time Lan Wangji would tell him the story of what happened with her, the hidden tragedy of it, and he’d promise him that he’d never permit the same.

But that would all come later: for now, they were at the Lotus Pier.

Things were happy at the Lotus Pier: Jiang Fengmian, who no longer rose from his chair, looked at his wife with some puzzled awe in his eyes, and she reveled in it as their children watched them with great relief.  Jiang Yanli was kind and a little mischievous, Jiang Cheng was kind and not mischievous at all, and Wei Wuxian – was Wei Wuxian.

They were together all the time.

Lan Wangji was happy.

[moon-light-jukebox]

see? - [Reid x Reader] - Chapter 3

masterlist

previous chapter // series index // next chapter

Summary: Months after Reader left, Reid has tried to put his life back together. He’s never stopped trying to find Reader, but he may find her in the worst way possible. 

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 3.3k for Chapter 3

Content Warning: Normal Criminal Minds stuff. Mentions of drug addiction. This series has a villain, and he harms women. There is no s*xual assault, but there is brief talk of torture, and then the death of the victims. Spoiler: Our unsub targets pregnant women, one of the infants does not survive. Reader and her baby are fine. I don't go into detail, but if you need to skip this, I understand. 

A/n: How can I ever thank you all enough for being so patient with me? That being said, this chapter does end on a cliffhanger that you probably saw coming if you read “River” by @yours-truly-r​. She shared this plot with me, so this is my version. I’ll try my best not to make you wait too long for chapter 4. Chapter 3 & 4 are in Spencer’s point of view, but the remainder of the series will be in Reader’s POV. 

-- Linear Progression -- 

(Spencer’s POV)

The night we came back from my first case with the BAU, Morgan declared that he was going to a bar near his apartment to "get lucky." When I pointed out the fact that it was almost 2 am, he had told me, "time is an illusion, Pretty Boy."

That was the first time he called me pretty boy, along with the first time I tried to explain a theoretical concept he had no interest in hearing.

He was right to a degree. The way we understand time is an illusion. Time doesn’t happen in the linear way that we as a society perceive it to. The physics of time are still widely debated, but the running hypothesis is that everything that has ever happened is still happening right now. Every single moment in time is happening all at once, and it always will be.

Morgan didn’t “get lucky” that night, but he did give me a ride back to my apartment. I think that was the beginning of our friendship; I had never been able to understand the social constructs of relationships and friendships, but I think he felt some sort of responsibility for the skinny kid with glasses who was babbling about the physics of time at 3 am.

My friendship with Derek Morgan was one of the most important of my life.

Which is why I wasn't going to murder him for banging on my door at 7 am.

“Open up, Pretty Boy!”

Grumbling, I got out of bed and padded down the hallway towards my living room where Morgan was pounding on the door so hard, I was concerned it was going to fly off its hinges.

“If you break my door, you’re gonna fix it,” I muttered out when I finally pulled the door open.

The man who was the closest thing to a brother I had just smiled at me. “I restore houses, kid. It’d be an improvement.”

Smirking, I waved him into my apartment. In the months since…Since February, Morgan had made it a habit of coming by several times a week whenever we were in town. I don’t know if the rest of the team knew he did it, I don’t know if they were as worried about me as he was, but it wouldn’t have surprised me.

“Coffee?” I asked, making my way into the kitchen.

"We'll grab some on the way," he said, flopping down on my couch. "We have a case; I told Hotch I'd swing by and get you. It's wheels up as soon as we get there and finish the briefing."

I frowned. “I didn’t get any message.”

“I know. I asked Garcia to let me wake you.” He turned his head around to look at me. “You haven’t been sleeping, kid.”

He wasn’t wrong. “It’s…I’m trying, Derek.”

I didn’t need to say it, because he knew it. Much like time, recovery isn’t a linear process. You start, you stumble, you go back, sometimes you go up then down. It’s an imperfect journey because there isn’t a finish line; addiction can’t be beaten, only beaten back.

Derek Morgan had been beside me through every step of my recovery.

Lumbering off the couch, he walked over to stand before me. “Reid, you’re doing the best you can. Everyone stumbles.”

I shook my head. “It’s different. I can…I can still see it. I can still see it all, Morgan.”

I could still see the look on Ben’s face when he found the vials of Dilaudid I had hidden all around my apartment. I could still remember the look on Hotch’s face when he told me she was gone. I could still see the anger on Garcia’s face when she refused to help me find her.

Most of all, I remember how y/n looked when I told her I would kill her, give up her precious life, for one more moment with Maeve. Every morning, right before I wake up, that memory flashes behind my eyes.

I’ve called in every favor I’m owed, reached out to every connection; no one could find her. She vanished.

I quickly realized the only way she could vanish like that is if she had help from inside the bureau, and if I had to guess, I’m sure I know who helped her. If she went to all these lengths, she didn’t want to be found, least of all by me.

"We'll find her, Spencer," Morgan said gently, pulling me from my thoughts.

He said the words to comfort me, but even he knew they weren’t true. No one would find y/n y/l/n until she wanted to be found.

Nodding my head, I made my way back towards my bedroom to get ready for the case.

Making amends is very big in the recovery process. I wanted to make amends to y/n, and while I wanted that to be in the traditional sense, I settled for a symbolic one.

I tried to make myself into the man she thought I was before that night. Every time I felt the itch crawl up my spine, I thought of her face. It didn't make the craving go away; it just made it easier to bear.

I didn’t deserve to have her back in my life, but I wanted to be someone who did.

After I had finished getting ready, I made my way over to my bedside table to pick up the coin I carried with me everywhere, running my fingers over the edges before placing it in my pocket.

Two hundred and forty-seven days sober, and each one of them was for her.

--

We never made it to the bullpen that morning. Hotch called and informed us that it was wheels up "immediately," and that we would debrief on the plane. Morgan and I were the last members of the team to arrive. He took a seat on the couch beside Callahan while I opted to sit at the table across from Hotch and JJ.

“Garcia is going to be out for the remainder of the week. She has the flu,” our unit chief informed us, his eyes fixed on the tablet in front of him.

Morgan toyed with his phone, no doubt trying to text his ‘baby girl’ before take-off. “Who is going to be running things from here since she’s out? Kevin?”

Hotch nodded, but I couldn’t help but notice he seemed distracted. “He’s the most familiar with Garcia’s systems.”

“Is that what they’re calling it these days,” Rossi muttered just a bit too loudly, earning a mock glare from Hotch, a confused look from Kate, an eye roll from Morgan and JJ, and a soft huff of laughter from me.

“Let’s get started,” Hotch ordered, drawing all of our focus back to the present. “The Oregon State Police have requested our help.”

I couldn’t help but wrinkle my nose at the tablet in front of me, further proof Garcia wasn’t on this case. Despite how mad she was at me over Y/n, she still always accommodated my wishes for paper files.

The state police?” Morgan asked. “Not the locals?”

"No," Hotch answered, right as I brought up an image on my screen. "He's not sticking to one county."

I heard a strangled gasp from JJ, but I didn't need to look up to know why. “How many?” I asked.

“When the original request was made two women had been abducted. Both of them were pregnant, days from giving birth, and both from the same town of Silverton, Oregon. The first victim was Iris Jenkins. She was a 31-year-old woman, and she was 40 weeks and 2 days gestation when she was taken by the unsub. The M.E. estimates he held her for less than 24 hours before she died.”

“The baby?” JJ asked, her voice thick with emotion.

“He was left outside of a local hospital in Silverton. He was completely unharmed. The next intended victim is Nancy Williamson. She was abducted outside her workplace. Also 40 weeks pregnant with a boy.”  

“Could that be a coincidence?”

Hotch still didn’t look up from his tablet. “It could have been before the latest victim.”

“But Nicole Williamson escaped?” Morgan asked. “That’s lucky. Did she give a description of the guy?”

“No, she said he kept her blindfolded and bound to a chair.”

That caused me to pause. "That doesn't make sense. Why would the unsub blindfold them if he plans on killing them anyway?"

Rossi spoke for the first time. “Psychological torture? Sensory deprivation?”

I thought about that as I swiped through the crime scene photos; pausing when I saw a photograph of a letter on the screen. "He makes them write letters?”

“Just the first victim and the third. The one that got away was only held for 12 hours.”

I frowned. “Is this blood? Or just red ink?”

“The first is red ink, the second letter is still being processed.”

It was obvious based on the letter spacing and how many loops were in the letters that a woman wrote this letter. Based on the contents of the letter, I could also assume she was under duress.

Hotch spoke again, pulling my focus. “Morgan, I'd like for you and JJ to drive up to Silverton. Visit Miss Williamson and ask if she's up for a cognitive interview, then visit the M.E., ask him if he remembers anything about the first victim.”

“Where was the…” JJ’s question trailed off when he got to the same image Kate’s hand had been frozen over for the last 47 seconds, the same photo that was described in the incident report that Hotch had on his screen.

My unit chief, my friend, cleared his throat before he spoke. “Kayla Whitmore was found an hour ago in Eugene, Oregon. The autopsies are already underway, and the scene is being processed.”

“The cause of death seems pretty apparent,” Morgan said with a look of disgust on his face.

"The time between this most recent kill and the last abduction is much shorter. We need to move fast," Hotch said, his voice grave. "Kate, I'd like for you to come with me to the FBI satellite office in Bend, that's where we're landing. Kayla Whitmore's credit card was used to buy gas right outside the town limits. Rossi, I'd like for you and Reid to ride out to Eugene. It should be undisturbed."

"I already don't understand this guy," Rossi muttered. "The first baby survives, the third doesn't. The second victim is blindfolded, but it doesn't appear the others were. He makes them write their own letters. Then he uses the third victim's credit card. This behavior…it's erratic."

“Is the message on the wall the same in both crime scenes?” I asked, already knowing the answer.

“Yes.”

--

The media hadn’t named our unsub yet, but I was sure it wouldn’t be long, especially once word of Kayla Whitmore reached the public. This type of violence always draws attention.

Rossi was moving around the room, silent, but his eyes moving rapidly over everything. “He’s a cocky son of a bitch, I’ll give him that.”

I nodded. “Do we have the original note?” One of the deputies brought over an evidence bag, inside of it was the wrinkled piece of paper. “Have we analyzed this yet?”

The man nodded. “It’s red ink, just like the last.”

"It makes sense; blood might start to coagulate and make it more difficult to work with. Rossi, come here." I called, offering him the note.

“Give justice to the weak and the fatherless; maintain the right of the afflicted and the destitute. Rescue the weak and the needy; deliver them from the hand of the wicked,” he read. “It sounds biblical.”

“It is. It’s Psalm 82, verses 3 through 4.”

“Was the first note biblical?”

“The first victim was made to write, ‘Take no part in the unfruitful works of darkness, but instead expose them.’ That’s from Ephesians. There are similar themes in both letters.”

“So, he’s perverting the bible to fit his own fucked up narrative? How original.” The older man handed the paper back to me. “We have to find out how he’s choosing them.”

My gaze moved over to the right wall of the room. "Did the unsub leave any prints when he wrote on the wall?"

It wasn't the first message I'd seen written in blood, but I don't think it's something you ever get used to. “’Do you see this, son of man?’ could be another biblical reference. It’s Ezekiel chapter 8, verse 17. “Do you see this, son of man? Yet you will see still greater abominations than these.’”

“So, are the children abominations? Or the mothers?” The deputy said quietly.

“The mothers,” I answered. “He doesn’t harm the children. I think it must go against his…moral code.”

The deputy scoffed behind me, and I was inclined to agree; the idea that someone could do something like this and have a moral code was almost impossible to imagine.

But devils hide in plain sight all the time.

“His rage is escalating,” I pointed out.

I heard the deputy ask Rossi what that meant.

“This guy is a bum,” the man who developed the art of profiling explained. "He can't get a girlfriend, and he has this idea in his mind that it’s the women’s fault. He thinks women owe him sex, love, whatever he wants.”

I walked away from the wall, turning to face the two men. “He thinks they’re dirty, unclean. It’s why he makes them write the note.  By making them say they deserved what he did to them, he’s humiliating them even after death.”

The deputy’s face was pale as he survived the scene around him. “Why does he make them leave the messages in their own blood?”

“Only one message is from them,” I replied, gesturing to the evidence bag. “The message in the blood is from the unsub.”

Before we exited the room, I turned back to that message again, feeling the hairs on the back of my neck stand up.

Both victims had been discovered in the exact same way. The women were naked, stabbed multiple times, but with no signs of sexual assault. They were positioned in the middle of the blood-soaked mattress, their arms spread wide.

He had left the same message on the walls of the room, written in the blood of the woman he killed.

“Do you see this, son of man? Do you see?”

--

“The media is calling him The Prophet.”

Rossi scoffed. “I bet it was that wet behind the ears deputy who leaked the note and told him the kid’s biblical theories.”

Rossi and I had arrived at the FBI office in Bend, Oregon about an hour ago. Kate and Hotch had already set up; JJ and Morgan were on their way back from Silverton now.

“So, what do we know about this jag-off?” Rossi questioned, staring at the evidence board.

Hotch came to stand at the head of the conference table, his eyes sharp, his voice clipped. "Reid, Dave, what did the M.E. say about the Eugene autopsies?”

"He said he suspected it was a botched c-section. Kayla was just over 40 weeks pregnant, but he said it's not uncommon for first-time mothers to go up to 42 weeks.”

“I know that’s right,” I heard JJ mutter from the speaker placed in the center of the table.

“Indicates a lack of medical knowledge,” Morgan offered. “Because we know this guy isn’t squeamish.”

I agreed with my friend but didn't comment on it; my mind already on another topic. "What's interesting is that Kayla had an anterior placenta, meaning it attached to the front of her uterus. Usually, the placenta attaches to the posterior wall, meaning it's more towards her back. Because of the unusual placement of the placenta, I think that the death of this fetus was accidental."  

“It wasn’t a fetus, Reid,” Kate snapped. “It was a baby.”

I cleared my throat, meeting her angry gaze. I knew Callahan was the guardian of a young girl, and based on my years working with fellow agents who were also parents, I knew it was best not to argue about definitions and semantics. "I'm sorry, Kate," I murmured.

Her gaze softened. "It's fine. Sorry. This case is just…this is a lot." She looked down to swipe across her tablet screen. "This child was a boy too?"

I nodded. “All three of the victims were pregnant with boys.”

“So, he wants boys?”

Rossi turned to Kate. “He wants mothers of boys. Probably his way of killing his mother over and over again.”

“But how does he know the babies are boys?” JJ asked.

“So, what do they have in common?” Hotch asked. “Let’s add Nicole Williamson into the mix too, what do we have?”

“There were quotes from the bible in the two complete notes. Those specific verses are often referenced when they speak about protecting children,” I said, my eyes moving over the files. “The women were all in their 20’s. They were all at least 39 weeks pregnant, and...huh, there’s not a father named in any of the medical charts.”

“But how does he know that!” JJ huffed again in frustration.

“And are we sure this unsub is a guy?” Callahan questioned. “There was no sign of sexual assault.”

“If we follow statistics, women take babies, and men take children. With that in mind, it would be safe to assume this was a woman, but the amount of rage we’re seeing makes me think it’s a man.” I turned my back to the team, my eyes moving over the crime scene photos. "The letter was written under duress, but the language is very misogynic. Based on the information Kevin gathered about Kayla's online life, she had a normal amount of self-esteem. It's out of character that she'd talk about herself this way. By all accounts, she was excited for the baby. It's also incredibly difficult to stab someone 54 times. All the women would have fought him until the end. He'd have to be stronger to subdue her. It's a biological instinct, mothers' will stop at nothing to protect their children."

Hotch had pulled out his phone before I finished speaking, dialing Kevin Lynch to give him the criteria of the person we were searching for. "We need women in the Bend, Oregon area that are close to giving birth. There will not be fathers listed on the medical charts. She'll be at least 39 weeks into her pregnancy."

“Alright, so that would leave us with…” Kevin wasn’t able to finish his sentence before an alarm started blaring over the speaker, almost drowning out Kevin’s yelp of surprise.

“What is it?” Hotch asked. “Did something happen?”

"I…I don't know, sir," Kevin answered after he had finally gotten the alarm to quiet. "I was running the search, and…it triggered some sort of system-wide alarm. It completely locked me out of Penny’s system.”

Morgan clicked his tongue. “That doesn’t make any sense. Penelope wouldn’t set some alarm without a reason.”

“Wait. Kevin, was there any sort of message that came up when you triggered the alarm?” Hotch asked, his tone urgent.

There was a weird tension on Hotch’s face while he waited for Kevin to reply. “Yeah, uh, just a dialogue box that says ‘Nightingale.’”

“Nightingale?” Kate asked. “Isn’t that the…”

Hotch didn't reply; he hung up abruptly while Kevin was still speaking. I felt a chill run down my spine when I noticed his hands trembled slightly.

“What is it, Hotch?” Rossi asked urgently.

But he never got a chance to answer; a deputy stormed into the room. "We just got a report of an abandoned car outside of a grocery store about half a mile from here. It's registered to a young woman, and there was an empty infant car seat strapped in the back."

Hotch took the paper from him but didn't look at it. His eyes were screwed shut, and his shoulders were tense.

I heard when the voice spoke on the other end of the line. I heard the deep breath Hotch let out before he spoke.

“Penelope, I need to know where y/n is.”

----------

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[whump-town]

The Bridges Between You and Me

Emily whump (even though I'm supposed to be doing other things)

no real warnings, i don't think.

On her lunch break she takes her sandwich to the roof. It’s a great escape with only one access door, one Dave showed her and warned no one could ever know about. That had been after she and Reid only barely made it out of Benjamin Cyrus’ cult of horrors and pedophilia. A peace offering, she realized, to settle the fear he hadn’t known he had of losing her. After that, she started being invited to have a drink in his office and was welcomed into the boy’s club. Something Reid had only ever told her was a thing and something Morgan turned his nose to but also secretly wanted in on. A general snobby (sensitive) shrug of dismissal - couldn’t be that cool if Hotch gets invited and they don’t.

For the last few weeks, she’s been taking her lunch up here, away from Reid’s glances and the worry lines being formed along Morgan’s brow. It’s only a matter of time, she knows, before she has to give up the spot. Only one or two more lunches before Morgan takes his concern to Garcia and they figure out the little hideout. Won’t be as much fun then, not with Morgan’s betrayed hurt and his probing questions. For now, she’s got a safe-haven.

“You’re smoking again.”

Well, she thought she did.

Leaning against the brick, one of his long legs stretched out in front of him Hotch looks up from his coffee to quirk an eyebrow at her. It’s by no means a question, he sat in silence and watched her light her cigarette and pull off it before commenting. Before drawing attention to himself and crushing their individual peace. He knows she’s smoking again, has for a while, but thought she’d kick the habit again with time. She’s only just come back from the dead, hell he’d smoke too. That or drink himself to death but the idea alone makes him shiver with distaste - the parallels between himself and his father are already too pronounced for that notion.

Where he’s expecting her to maybe smirk and dismiss him with sharp sarcasm, he’s shot down with a clenched jaw. Her eyes darken, “shut up.” As he looks away, eyes going to the cool coffee in his hand he can hear her sigh. How much has changed since she came back? She’d been angry, walked away from him without a word and that had stung more than if she’d slapped him when she found out what he spent her departure doing. Knew that he could have fought to stay and instead went like a coward. They haven’t talked since. Haven’t even looked at each other. He used to know her better than he knew himself. Now he’s not sure what he knows.

Maybe he really did kill Emily Prentiss.

She rubs her palms into her eyes, fighting back tears. She will not cry in front of Hotch but all this shit is starting to be too much. Her emotions are beyond her control. Anger and fear and anxiety and panic - each one a speeding bullet wedged in her ribcage ricocheting until she’s chipped away. Is this what he’d felt after Foyet? He had a warpath too. Morgan had pretended not to see it, dismissed it as Hotch only coming down on him but he yelled and Garcia and Reid. Two people who always get away whatever hell they’ve dug up. He’d felt bad about it, an admission that only came out after a few drinks. One he’d made to the floor.

“Got another apple crate?” She can’t say sorry. He had to her for just raising his voice a little, for getting angry when he shouldn’t have been. He always apologizes and fixes his mistakes. That’s always been one of her faults, too content to watch her burning bridge spread and takedown cities and forests. Her mother had such conflicting points of view on an apology. Sticking her nose up at the sound of the lives she took at the cost of destroying her bridges and at the same time twisting her fingers up in Emily’s hair to wrangle one from her stubborn lips. Emily had gotten so caught up in doing the very same thing that she never learned. Doesn’t know how to say those words even if she wanted to.

But Hotch… She imagines him as a boy, just as he’d described to her once. Hardly 100 pounds soaking wet at thirteen but always so much taller than the other kids. An optimist despite everything he’d been through. Coming home with the hope to find a mother who wipes his tears with the edges of her summer dress and a father who throws his hat up into the air with a praising shout when he finally manages to get somewhere on his bike without training wheels. And still opening that front door every day with so much hope and love for two people who felt him better dead.

She knows she could hit him, she could yell and scream. Burn the bridge and kill the city and he’d still hike around the mountain, he’d swim across the river and she’d find him smiling on her doorstep. Loyal as a dog. It’s why he never told anyone about his father - he just kept coming back. Reminds her painfully of that stupid quote from Einstein.

He looks up at her, surprised as he nods that he does have another apple crate and pulls it around for her. Right beside his. “The definition of insanity is doing the same thing over and over again, but expecting different results”. When is he going to understand that she’s never going to stop hurting him? That he can give her that stupid look - a smirk trying to work its way up but already shining brightly in his eyes - and she’s still going to end up doing it again. Dragging him below the water’s surface. Drowning him to save herself. All she does is take and take and he won’t stop giving.

She finds herself envious of Hotch’s inability to control his vulnerabilities. That little finger count he does as he pulls in a breath through his nose, a conscious movement that is both impossible to hide and incredibly telling. Though, they all pretend he’s got them fooled. He’s sort of an anxious wreck and JJ had once concluded it’d physically kill him if he was aware of just how little he actually manages to hide from them. It hurts to see him stand just outside the comfort they show one another, afraid that he’s unwelcomed or that his being there complicates their dynamics. She wants to be known the way that they know him.

To be human so uniquely.

“Are you going to tell Jack?” she asks softly. She leans her head back against the brick, rocking it to the side to look over at him. Guilty, she looks down at the cigarette in her hand. Somehow the constant thought this stupid thing could kill her does nothing but her stomach twists, her throat tight at realization that Jack would be so upset with her. He’d be crushed to see her smoking again.

It’s a habit she picks up every now and then.

She’d picked it back up, after ten years, after joining the team. For a month she was burning through over half a pack and stopped when she walked into Strauss’ office with her recognition, one-upping Hotch’s transfer. Started again after New York… Well, when she got news of the bomb she went out and bought a pack. Chain smoked until they informed her it was Kate and Hotch. Then she went and puked in an alley. There are plenty of things that had her at least reaching for the relief of one: getting taken hostage by Benjamin Cyrus, Matthew dying and dragging up her past, Reid getting Anthrax, that bastard George Foyet. If she’s perfectly honest she never really stopped after everything with Foyet.

She needed the peace, the ease of routine, and familiarity. Someone had to keep their shit together and it certainly wasn’t Hotch…

Teenage rebellions are such a pain in the ass once you turn twenty.

Jack had seen her one afternoon, she’d been finishing the one she pulled into Hotch’s driveway with. Her attention on not being found out by the man she’d assumed was inside. A safe assumption because Jack told her as much but only after he’d cried, only after he had her promise she’d be done. No more (even if she did finish the pack - but she’d felt awful with everyone after… even if she did pick up another pack).

And the guilt burns through the addiction, making her nearly sick at the thought of finishing the one in her hand.

He smiles. Sisyphus at the bottom of his hill, boulder weighing him down.

She hopes wherever his father is, it's miserable. Even with the fear of what lay ahead for her, the conviction she was headed for the same place as men like his father. So she convinced herself she didn’t even believe in that. But here she is again, watching herself become his father. Drawing her fist back, aimed for his forgiving smile. Taking advantage of Hotch’s loyalty, his stupid misplaced love.

“I won’t tell him.”

He’s smiling at her, pinching his eyes to flash her the black-eye she put there. Smiling with blood dripping down his chin.

She looks away. She mumbles “thanks” and takes to rubbing her fingers between her knuckles to soothe the sting of the bruising she imagines there. “How is he?” she deflects. She might as well have him laid out on his back, taking cheap shots at his ribs. “When did he get so big?” She’s got him where she wants him, kicking all the sensitive areas she knows will lay him out. Distracting him under the lure of Jack and it doesn’t matter that he’ll figure that out later just so long as it makes him smile that bloody smile and ramble about his son for a few minutes.

And after a few minutes of exposure to the sun, feeling the warmth of Hotch’s love for Jack settling around her, she almost feels like smiling too.

But that only lasts for so long. With a sigh and a silent look of disdain when his knees protest like rusted hinges when he stands and their joy shattered. But that does make her smile, even when he frowns at her humor at his expense. For a moment they’re the moon and sun, opposites circling their way around the world. Caught in a gravitational pull of nearly colliding and too far away.

He doesn’t bother her about that day on the roof or ask the question he already knows the answer to - if she’s smoking or not. She feels just enough satisfaction being fulfilled when Dave explains how Hotch found out about the roof that she doesn’t try to bring it up either. It’s fine, she tells herself. He looks at her again and she feels her frustration with him (with the world) dissipate to it’s normal simmer. Until she feels less fooled by Atlas, like she hasn’t had the world rolled over her shoulders to settle onto her bag. Her knees sink and she watches Atlas’ mighty back. Her body is aching - come back, she begs, come back.

It rushes back.

The wrong word piercing the veil and shattering the manufactured calm surrounding her. She knows, in a split second, that it was the wrong thing to say but it was too late. And as it occurred, as she flinched in the preparation for the pain to come, she thought about them. Derek standing only a foot away - the sound of his quickened breaths keeping pace for her. Giving her timing, finding her rhythm. He always keeps her steady.

Behind Derek, no doubt just a step behind Hotch, Reid’s looking over her shoulder.

And she’s sure Hotch knows, just as soon if not before she does, that this has gone tits up.

There’s no coming back. Her head hits the floor, lays her out for a moment where she can’t think past the pain blossomed out across the back of her head. All she knows is the fingers of pain wrapping around the back of her head and the chill in the air. Softly, as if submerged in mud, she can hear Hotch shouting. That tone he takes on when he’s scared, when he’s really scared. She wonders if this time he can save her or if history really does repeat itself.

“Hey, hey--” Morgan crouches down by her side. His hands covering the wound, that look in his eyes. He’s scared. She’s scaring them. “Stay with me, Princess. Come on, eyes open.”

And maybe history doesn’t repeat itself but she’ll be damned if it doesn’t at least rhyme.

Derek doesn’t seem to reciprocate the same humor on the matter.

“Emily.”

Mmm, she turns her head away. Morgan has this tendency to sound like a broken alarm clock. She finds herself looking up at JJ - caught in the tears in the corner of her eyes as she throws demands around at LEOs like she’s Hotch. Watching them listen like she is.

“Hang on Emily,” he begs. “Please. Just a little bit longer.”

God, she rocks her head back. Whines when Morgan shifts his weight but a hand grabs her wrists, stops her from pushing him away. “Get off me,” she grunts. She wants to kick out, to push away but Hotch moves too and under the weight of both of them she can’t move. But it hurts. It hurts so bad and she hates them. She hates Morgan pushing her away. The way that she ruined JJ and Reid’s friendship. How scared Garcia is and Dave keeps looking at her like he’s expecting her to have just disappeared. And fucking Hotch and his silent treatment.

And Jack.

Oh… Jack.

Morgan goes with her in the ambulance, the last time he’d been stopped. Hotch stands outside, his hands at his hips as she moves on and he stops there. Reid’s just behind him, always just behind him. She sees them, hazed by blood loss and everything going on but she sees them. Hotch his mountain made of man and Reid seeking his shelter from her storm.

When do they stop looking at her like that?

When do they finally realize she’s never going to stop hurting them?

She dreams about her mother.

The rain stings as it lands on her bare shoulder blades, pouring so hard it’s beating the gravel down their driveway. “Come inside, Emily!” Her mother has stepped out onto the balcony, the one that overlooks the garden they have to pay someone to maintain. “You’ll catch your death out here, darling!” Her mother steps closer, into the rain. “Emily, please. Let me make you some tea.”

And that’s how she knows it’s a dream.

Her mother would never do any of those things. Never follow her out into the rain. Would have never even realized she’d gone out. She wouldn’t call her “darling”, not when one is around to hear her do it. Her mother never once made her tea.

Garcia figured out Emily’s devotion to tea after a month of having known her. Then it wasn’t just a small bonding it was an entire affair as Emily was guided through the office to the little kitchenette and shown she wasn’t the only one. Where Garcia would show her the teas Gideon liked best and where he kept them in a little metal box. Fitting, she thought, as Garcia showed her all the usual suspects and Ginger Tulsi tea which she hadn’t expected at all. Garcia is more into the fruits, anything with the picture of a fruit on it.

There was a single, mangled box of Earl Grey sitting alone on a shelf. She didn’t even have to ask to know that it had to be Hotch’s. It was.

Reid doesn’t drink tea. He would pick up the habit a year later after Gideon leaves but only to soothe his nerves. The smell would remind him of being younger, of having Gideon.

Morgan doesn’t drink tea. Couldn’t even look at it after her death. The smell made him sick, physically ill to just pass Garcia in the hall with a mug of Chai. That stupid ratio Emily invited unique to how Garcia likes tea. She’d done it for Jason too and Hotch too. Dashes of cinnamon and the additions of almond milk to curate something unique… something to leave behind. A reason for Reid to cry in the bathroom and Hotch lose himself for a moment, cursing blindly when his shaking hands drop his mug.

She left them grief.

She left them with a gaping hole in their sides and blood gushing down over their fingers.

And they still came back.

She wakes slowly, groaning at the immediate pull she feels on the stitches down her right side. Sluggishly, she realizes that no matter what she does this is going to hurt. Breathing is agonizing. Thoughts are like axe picks trying to split her skull open.

“Emily?”

She opens her eyes and finds all of them.

Reid is curled into a cot, blanket drawn up over his shoulder and face pressed down.

Garcia is sleeping with her head on Morgan’s shoulder, the two of them nearly curled into each other. Content, peaceful. How could you be anything but? Nothing can go wrong with Penelope Garcia on your side, Morgan’s calm face reflects just that.

JJ has managed to curl herself into a chair, Hotch’s suit jacket pulled up over her like a blanket. Hotch makes his chair look tiny. His legs splayed in front of him and his head tipped back, in a way that’s going to hurt him once he wakes. They look too much like they did that night, the night she died. JJ’s hair is a mess, pulled back away from her eyes but still somehow beautiful. Light and kind in a way Emily could never imitate. Hotch has these awful rings under his eyes, sharpened by his cheek bones. He’s exhausted.

He always is.

“Rather sweet, aren’t they?”

She turns her head to the sound, smiling despite herself.

Rossi has his feet kicked up on the edge of her bed, his arms crossed over his chest. “I’m surprised the snoring didn’t wake you up.” He pulls his legs down slowly, bending each with care before placing it down on the ground. With a groan he rises, one hand on each side of his chair as he forces himself to motion. “Then again,” he mumbles, stepping around to a little tray. “It’s probably best you weren’t around for the trouble those two conjured up.” He motions to Morgan and Hotch with the cup in his hands, she doesn’t have to look to know that’s who he’s talking about.

She opens her mouth but her question is cut short, killed by her sore throat and impossibly dry mouth. “What’d--” she winces, coughing that turns into more of a gag. It hurts but she sees Hotch’s leg jerk, his head moves and she pushes it down. Holds her breath.

“Don’t go hurting yourself on account of him,” Rossi fusses. “He’ll take it very personally if you die… again.” He eases the sting with a smirk and it has to be the drugs because she mirrors it back. Stepping to the edge of the bed he presses a straw to her lips, encouraging her to take a sip.

A year before Foyet started killing again they went to Georgia. The strange thing was that you could actually see the heat baking in the air, the way it came up in waves up off the road. Somewhere, the memory so hazy now with the drugs in her system and the fog of that day, JJ had managed to wander off. She was out standing by a fence, a little flower pinched between her fingers. “A honeysuckle,” she said, showing them. Like the sun herself with her flower outstretched in the palm of her hand.

Hotch had smiled, genuinely, brightly. See? Even he knows when the sun is that close.

They both took a flower in their hands, showing them how to draw out a single drop of nectar.

As Rossi encourages her to have another sip she’s drawn back to that memory. The warmth of the air and Reid’s triumphant laughter when he finally got it, turning to Morgan, to Hotch to show them he did it. Something good.

“Where’d you go?”

She blinks and he’s managed to move. The whole room shifted. Darker. She sees Reid, turned over onto his back. JJ over on the couch, resting against Garcia. Her fingers trailing up and down over JJ’s arm. In her lap a book, keeping her distracted. A bag of yarns and fabrics at her feet, she’s camped out. Not going to move.

She clears her throat, “honeysuckles.” Turning her head she looks over at the others, for where Morgan and Hotch should be. She points over to the empty chair but even that hurts.

Rossi hums, he understands what she means. He’s got coffee in his hands and nods down towards it. “Morgan is taking a walk,” he says. “Too nervous to sit still. Coffee didn’t help.”

Emily nods, swallowing despite the pain grating up her throat.

“Jack,” is his answer for Hotch. “Gone to call Jessica.” He leaves out the state in which Hotch had managed to get himself worked up into. Standing here over her bed pale as a ghost and whispering something too softly for Dave to hear. A nightmare but she doesn’t need to know that.

“Get some sleep,” he advises as he settles himself down. “You’ll need all the strength you can manage when they get up.”

She nods, that makes sense. That way she’ll be alert to keep Morgan and Reid out of her jello. The drugs… They throw her off and she stumbles, chokes. “Dave?” He’ll stay, won’t he? He won’t leave.

Dave reaches over with hands warmed from his coffee and holds her hand. “Sleep,” he whispers.

No more warmth drawn from the fires she sets. She has teas that taste like berries to look forward to. Garcia with her hair full of butterfly clips. The hours of channel flicking Morgan falls into when he’s bored. The sweet smile that will light up Reid’s face when finally gets her to agree to a round of chess. The pseudo-girls night out they'll have right here. With shirley temples and virgin pina coladas. Hotch will be there too, when thinks she doesn’t need him, but the lights have gone out and he knows what it’s like to still be scared of the dark.

She doesn’t have to set fire to another bridge to feel the warmth of something real, of something loving.

They’re right here.

[olivinesea]

Wait on the Sun

a/n: hello! It’s been forever, I had to turn my brain off for a hot second but I’m back, ready to roll. Some implied/referenced abuse but it’s vague.

Tadpoles are turning into frogs; or Aaron & Sean spend a day at the river. ~4.4k

He was running. He’s not sure where he’s running to but his breathing tastes like blood and he can feel the menacing presence chasing him gaining ground. He can’t quite hear its approach but the fear of it grips his heart like a vice.

He knows he can’t stop running.

If he stops he will be caught and pulled into the vortex of fury he feels close on his heels. Sweat rolls into his eyes, blurring his vision and he misses his step, ankle rolling and knees giving out. He crashes hard onto his palms and knees, feeling the skin ripping away on impact. Whatever or whoever has been chasing him closes the remaining distance between them. He hears whistling as something large and heavy cuts through the air, aimed at his helpless form. He opens his mouth, sucking in air to scream in fear and frustration, caught once again.

*

A small hand patted his cheek insistently, his name whined in concern. His eyes flew open as the strangled scream died on his lips. He blinked rapidly, bringing Sean into focus, standing right beside Aaron’s bed, small eyebrows drawn together.

“Aaron?” he repeated, worried.

He closed his eyes, inhaling through his nose, noticing that the air still seemed to drag through overexerted lungs. “It’s okay, Sean,” his voice was raspy and faint. He felt lightheaded but ignored that to push himself upright, sliding his legs over the edge of the bed. Sean pressed his small body against his side, leaning into him, seeking comfort for them both. Aaron wrapped one arm around his little brother’s bony shoulders and used the other hand to rub the remaining sleep from his eyes. He felt as drained as if he hadn’t slept at all. With dreams like that one a common occurrence, it was rare that he got any meaningful rest at night. It left him a little dazed, a little slow during the day. If anyone noticed they thought he was being sullen. He found he didn’t mind what they thought as long as they didn’t ask questions. His shirt stuck to his skin with sweat from the nightmare and the hot, humid air that hung thick from the moment summer began. Sean twisted to look up at him, bottom lip sucked in between his teeth.

“‘m hungry,” he said.

Aaron let out a soft laugh, more exhale than laughter. Sean was always hungry. This didn’t bother Aaron, in fact it was the opposite. He took pride in caring for his brother, watching how he grew bigger year to year, hitting all the appropriate milestones for a kid his age. Rather than feel resentment at the contrast in their childhoods, he felt a desperation for Sean’s to be perfect, for him to have everything he needed and more. He was relieved at Sean’s lack of hesitation to state his needs, to assert his presence in the world.

“Go put on some clothes and I’ll make you breakfast,” he said, giving Sean a gentle push between the shoulder blades, pointing him towards the doorway. Once Sean was out of sight, he carefully peeled off his shirt to exchange it for a clean one. He hesitated, it was far too hot for long sleeves, even for him with his perpetually chilled skin. The summer air was more than just hot, it was heavy and it pressed close against him. He glanced down at himself, taking a quick inventory. There wasn’t much to worry about, nothing he couldn’t explain away with a shrug and a vague comment about clumsiness. Besides, he didn’t plan on seeing anyone today anyway. He put on a loose t-shirt and some old jeans he’d cut off at the knees.

Sean was already waiting for him in the hallway, his pale blue dinosaur shirt on backwards and a grin on his face. “I want pancakes,” he said in his chirpy child’s voice. Aaron reached down a hand to ruffle his hair but glanced at their parents’ closed door.

“C’mon you,” he said quietly, steering him to the staircase. He strained his ears but didn’t hear  any sounds of movement. If he was lucky it would be awhile before either of them made an appearance.

Once downstairs he pulled a bowl and cereal out of the cupboard and milk from the fridge. Climbing into a chair, Sean whined a little. He really wanted pancakes. But it was far too hot to be cooking anything plus Aaron didn’t want to risk the mess that came with the production of pancakes. He set a bowl of sugary cereal in front of Sean and tried to encourage him to eat it by pretending to steal a bite. When Sean just sat and pouted at him, he chewed on the corner of his lip, trying to think of what else he could offer that wouldn’t be loud or messy.

He returned to the fridge and found a package of raspberries. Sean kept his eyes on Aaron’s back as he busied himself with something on the counter, out of sight. Aaron turned around and approached the table, hands behind his back. Sean watched him, spoon in one hand, eyes narrowed. Aaron had the slightest smile on his face, just the corner of his mouth quirked up. Once he was within reach of Sean he swung his hands in front of him, wiggling his fingers in Sean’s face. His surprised giggle was the sweetest sound, breath catching as his eyes scrunched up. He grabbed one of Aaron’s hands with both of his own, pulling it close in order to bite off one of the raspberries, not being particularly careful about sparing Aaron’s fingers in the process.

“Hey!” he snatched his hand back from the ferocious five year old. “I need those.” He then slid the remaining raspberries on top of Sean’s cereal, popping the last one in his mouth. The fruit juice woke up his stomach, which growled around its emptiness. He glanced briefly at the bowl of cereal Sean was now happily crunching through, wistful for a moment, almost tasting the competing soft and crispy textures, the overly sweetened milk. He debated getting some for himself, maybe just a small bowl. He rubbed his fingers together as he thought, weighing the risks of indulging his craving, giving in and eating something that was expressly not for him.

Sean looked up at him smiling around the spoon in his mouth. “Can I have some more?”

Aaron laughed, “That’s probably enough sugar for you. It’s not even nine a.m., kid.”

Sean pursed his lips, prepared to argue his case, filled with promises of good behavior and doing exactly as he was told all day. Aaron had heard it all before. The kid could never overcome the sugar rush, no matter his sincerest intentions.

“I’ll make you a sandwich. Drink your milk.”

Aaron was in the middle of slathering bread with peanut butter when a loud crash came from upstairs. He looked up startled, then over to Sean who had been pretending to be a cat as he lapped at the milk in his bowl. He looked up at Aaron, milk on his chin, expression curious, unsure.

“Go put on your shoes,” Aaron said in a low voice. He anxiously wrapped up the sandwich as Sean disappeared into the washroom behind the kitchen. He put everything away, making it seem as if they were never there. Straining his ears, he thought he could hear the muffled sound of voices. He closed his eyes, willing himself to keep moving, he didn’t need to listen to know what sort of conversations were being had.

He found Sean fumbling to tie his shoelaces, still a little too uncoordinated to be successful. Aaron shoved his feet in his own sneakers, not bothering to untie them, heels folded under his feet. He handed Sean the sandwich and knelt down to quickly arrange the uncooperative laces.

“I can do it myself!” Sean protested but Aaron shook his head, still listening to assess whether anyone was coming down the stairs. He’d fallen asleep to the bitter sound of his mother crying and he didn’t want Sean to see whatever might emerge from their bedroom first thing in the morning.

“Let’s go,” he stood up and pushed Sean gently towards the back door in the same motion. He closed the door softly behind them, eyes lingering on the little bit of the interior he could see through the window. Turning around, he saw that Sean had wandered off into the open space beyond the house. He was looking closely at the ground as he walked, searching for treasures only perceptible to young children. Aaron jogged to catch up with him, shoes slapping against his heels. He wiped a hand across his forehead where sweat beaded already. He was worried Sean would ask questions, would wonder at the connection between the sounds from upstairs and their swift exit. But when he looked up, his childlike features round and open, there was no trace of worry. His cheeks were flushed in the heat and his shirt was sticking to him. He shifted his shoulders, trying to adjust the fabric so it didn’t cling and looked longingly back at the house.

“It’s too hot out here,” he was trying not to whine but the heat was truly unbearable. It hadn’t been much better inside, the air still and oppressive, but at least there hadn’t been the sun glaring directly down on them.

“I know, buddy,” Aaron was sympathetic. He also wished for somewhere cool and safe but he knew they wouldn’t find that inside that house. “Let’s go to the river.”

Sean brightened, immediately launching into a list of things he wanted to look for along the water. He started moving again, more purposefully, brushing his fingers along the tops of the tall grass that covered the field. Aaron walked beside him, half listening to his elaborate plans, half of his attention taken with calculating how long he could keep Sean out of the house. The summer came with far more problems than he liked. It would be a surprise to learn that someone so young had such an ambivalent view of the season most children anticipated with restless excitement—the chance to be free of rules and routine for a few endless weeks. To allow their thoughts and feet to wander in ways they didn’t have time for the rest of the year.

But to Aaron, all that unstructured time only increased the instability in the foundation of his existence. Nowhere to be meant nowhere to hide, no routine meant more opportunities to accidentally cross paths with his father. And now, since Sean had gotten old enough to be more independent, unafraid to be away from his mother’s side, Aaron felt it was his responsibility to make sure he stayed out of harm’s way. Keeping a kid out from underfoot required a lot of energy, a lot of ideas for activities to occupy him. He did his best to distract him from the tension of frayed nerves that threatened to snap at any moment as the heat constricted their movements. Each day was a test to see how far he could make it without attracting his father’s attention, how long he could successfully keep to the background. It usually meant taking Sean out of the house (it’s hard for a five year old to play quietly all day long) and as the days got deeper into the summer, the weather outside became more and more unbearable.

They reached the trees that marked the edge of the woods, the river only a little further beyond the border. The shade dropped the temperature by several degrees, the soft dirt absorbing rather than radiating heat. Like a pebble rolling downhill, Sean’s steps sped up as they got within sight of the water. Aaron followed closely behind, only just catching him by the back of his shirt as he tripped on a rock and started to pitch forward into the water. Instead of being scared Sean screeched with excited laughter, the joy of being at the river completely outweighing any earlier disgruntlement.

Aaron let go as he regained his balance and they both kicked off their shoes. The chill of the water was bright and sharp against his skin as he stepped into a shallow sandy patch. He felt the fine grit of the dirt between his toes and smiled, wiggling them slightly. He turned to Sean who was silent beside him, squatted down so low on his knees he was in danger of fully sitting down in the river. He was peering closely at the water that pooled between larger rocks along the shore. His eyes waited for the silt they’d dislodged to settle again and reveal every child’s favorite prey.

A few moments later there came a happy shriek, “I see one!” Aaron bent forward to get in line with Sean’s view and spotted the the little brown tadpole, its tail wiggling furiously. Then, like a lens coming into focus, they could suddenly see dozens, hundreds more of the oddly proportioned creatures, with round front halves that nearly overbalanced them. Their tails waved frantically to propel them, lurching from place to place. They congregated thickly along the edges of the rocks and in patches of underwater grass. Some of the larger ones even had tiny back feet poking out to the sides, not yet large enough to be helpful but showing the beginnings of a promise fulfilled.

The boys stepped carefully a little deeper into the river, positioning themselves in a way that corralled the tadpoles in front of them. From there, they bent close to the water, hands poised just above the surface. They froze like that long enough to convince the tadpoles the shadows they cast were nothing to fear, then scooped down swiftly, attempting to capture one of the wiggling creatures. The tadpoles were fast and burning with self-preservation instincts, their only aim to evade capture and achieve the next step in life—something more autonomous, more independence available with the addition of limbs and lungs. They were awaiting the chance to be predators rather than prey. Until they made it, they would use every trick they possessed of speed and deception and camouflage to survive their uncertain youth.

This didn’t dissuade the brothers’ enjoyment in any way, the chase was entirely the point of the activity. Sean’s hands were too small to have a good chance at catching one but Aaron managed to cup one, bringing it carefully to Sean’s eye level. They were hypnotized by the way  it launched itself from side to side in its new enclosure, burrowing against the cracks where his fingers met, searching for a tunnel to freedom. No matter how hard it thrashed its tail, it couldn’t build up enough force to escape. After a minute Aaron gently lowered his hands to the water, releasing the tadpole, which dove down and away from them as fast as it could.

Aaron felt an odd sense of longing as he watched it go. Surely it was ridiculous for a human to feel jealous of a tadpole, and yet, their lives were so simple, so inevitable. He was snapped out of the thought before it went too far by a large spray of water against his side. Sean looked at him with a wicked grin and splashed him again. Aaron retaliated with a much larger wave of water. The two boys laughed and shouted, splashing each other, quickly making enough noise to scare the tadpoles into further hiding, seeking calmer locales to continue their single minded development into frogs.

To stop him from splashing more, Aaron pulled Sean in against his side, laughingly begging for mercy from the vicious water attack. Sean’s giggles died down into a sigh as he rubbed his face against his brother’s hip, inhaling the familiar scent of laundry and river water. He loved his brother so much when he was like this. When he was smiling and playful, not distracted or insisting Sean be quieter. Sean thought the world would be perfect if he could have this Aaron all the time.

“I wanna swim.”

Aaron sighed, “Not today buddy.” He wasn’t up for swimming and all the risks that it might entail. Sure they were alone right now, but anyone could appear at any moment. It was more than hot enough to drive people to the nearest water source and frankly, he was a little surprised to have the place to themselves. Swimming meant a level of vulnerability that he couldn’t deal with right then. He was too tired, barely able to sleep between the nightmares and the sounds that haunted the hallways of their home late at night.

“C’mon, let’s get out. You’re wet enough to have been swimming anyway. You look like a drowned rat.”

“Do not!” Sean swung his hand across the surface, splashing them both heavily with the displaced water. Aaron laughed and picked him up under the armpits, carrying his squirming body, all muddy feet and wet hair, back to the bank. He set him down and warned him not to wander too far before finding a flat rock to settle on himself. Sean hummed at him, back already turned and engrossed in a new curiosity. Aaron leaned back, eyes heavy as he watched his little brother use a stick to poke at the ground along the shallow edge of the water. He smiled a little, thankful that, though opinionated, Sean was usually good about following directions. He wandered slowly, occasionally bending close to the ground to get a better look at something.

Aaron’s thoughts drifted, floating as aimlessly as a dandelion seed, the kind people said to make wishes on. He’d never had any of his wishes come true so he’d stopped trying. Though maybe it had been his own fault, maybe he’d had the wrong kind of wishes in the first place. He’d never wanted normal things, tangible items like a new toy or a puppy. Things that could be granted instantly. The things he wished for took time—strength, security, love. Maybe it was just a matter of patience.

He wondered if Sean had learned about dandelion wishes yet and decided he’d show him and hope the kid had better luck than he’d had. He felt drowsy though he knew he needed to keep an eye out, Sean was fairly responsible but still so young, too young. His stomach growled and he wrapped his arms around himself, pulling his knees into his chest, trying to trick his insides with external pressure. Mindlessly he picked at a scab on his shin, the result of a bug bite he’d scratched at too much. He had a hard time leaving them alone, always worrying at it until it bled, always making it worse somehow. His eyes closed, the heat wrapping him like a down comforter, the exhaustion catching up to him now that he was relaxed in this moment of relative safety.

A heavy buzz in his ear startled him, his eyes flying open as he waved a hand to swat at the mosquito. He looked for Sean and didn’t see him immediately. He scrambled to his feet, cursing himself, horrible scenarios jumping easily into his mind.

“Sean!”

No response.

“Sean!” he yelled louder. He ran a hand through his hair, pulling a little too hard. He was inhaling to yell again, stepping off the rock to search, when Sean appeared, standing up from a crouch, much farther away than Aaron would like. The next time he called Sean’s name it was sharp and angry and the smile he’d had when he saw Aaron faded a little. He trotted back, clutching something to his chest. He stumbled once on the uneven ground but regained his balance without letting go of whatever riches he’d amassed.

“You shouldn’t go so far away,” Aaron scolded.

Sean shrugged and unrolled his shirt, glancing at Aaron to gauge his reaction. He revealed a dozen or so small, flat rocks and long streaks of mud. He was clearly proud of his findings and though Aaron grimaced at the dirt, he did his best to match Sean’s excitement. He would just rinse the shirt out before they went home. They sorted them into piles of larger and smaller rocks and found a place to stand where the water was widest in order to practice skipping them. Sean was still learning but had been getting better this summer, finally coordinated enough to get the tiny rocks to jump two or three times before sinking. Aaron, with his longer arms and a decade more of practice, could reach a much higher number, one even making it all the way across to the other bank. Sean sucked air through his teeth, impressed.

“I wish I could do that,” he pouted. He was determined to be just like his big brother.

Aaron laughed, “Don’t worry, it’ll happen buddy.”

Attempting to get Sean to smile again, Aaron, now out of rocks, pretended he was going to use him as a skipping stone. He’d lifted him under the shoulders and knees and was swinging him back and forth, pretending to gauge his throw when the first thick raindrop landed.

At first it was a relief from the unrelenting heat, turning their faces up to the cooling drops, eyes closed as the water rolled down their cheeks. But the rainstorm intensified quickly and they could hear thunder crack loudly in the distance. Aaron quickly pulled Sean out of the water and away from the river. Almost instantly, the world had turned a dark purple, clouds thick and menacing above them. Aaron, kneeled down, scrambling to get Sean’s shoes back on, while Sean stood wide-eyed, still gripping his last rock tightly in his fist. He was busy tying the second shoe when lightning hit again, this time close enough that it illuminated the sky for a moment, the thunder following quickly behind it. Sean grabbed Aaron’s shirt with his other hand, fabric bunched in his small fist. Aaron softly disentangled Sean’s fingers as he stood up and put his feet in his own shoes. He used a finger to pull the heel out from under his foot while continuing to hold Sean’s hand with the other hand. It was now raining so hard there was water running into his eyes.

He straightened just as the lightning cracked again, striking a tree on the opposite bank. He was blinded, no sense of anything beyond the thunder immediately sounding and the air that smelled like burnt wood and ozone. Aaron stared at the tree, drawn in by the powerful electricity, tempted by the burn mark. He was fascinated by the way the change was so instantaneous. No waiting, no build up, no years of patience in order to become something else. Just here and then gone in the space of a heartbeat. He was completely frozen by the thought, an unexpected shortcut through the dull regularity of time. Distantly he felt Sean’s hands tugging at his shirt, heard his small whimper. Guilt flooded his system when he looked down at his face, blond hair plastered down, water soaked through his clothes. Sean needed him here now.

“Hop on,” he turned and bent his knees so Sean could climb on his back, wrapping his arms tightly around Aaron’s neck. The pressure was a little too strong, narrowing his windpipe but he didn’t say anything. He shifted him slightly, making sure he had a good grip on his legs before running back toward the house, away from the river in the woods and the tree with the enticing burn. The sky lit up a few more times and they heard more thunder as they raced back to the house. Aaron’s lungs were burning by the time they got there, both completely soaked through. He ran up the back steps and opened the door, too high on adrenaline to consider what he might be rushing them into.

Their mother was standing in the kitchen, chopping vegetables. She turned her tired eyes to them as they crashed into the house. As Aaron helped Sean slide down to the floor, she eyed the puddle they dripped around them.

“Don’t wake your father up,” she sounded dull, voice monotone. She wore a turtleneck, sleeves pulled down to cover her thin wrists despite the stifling heat. Aaron closed his mouth, face now expressionless, the wildness of the lightning draining away, leaving a hollow obedience. He nodded, compliant. Sean went to take a step off the mat and Aaron pulled him back against his legs with a palm against his small chest.

Sean made a sound of protest. He was home, he was safe; he also had the energy of the storm running through his skin and all he wanted was to run to his mom and press himself against her warmth. Aaron rubbed his thumb in a small soothing circle against his collarbone, feeling how Sean’s heartbeat danced against his ribs. He met his mother’s eyes and they exchanged a silent understanding.

Sean wriggled harder against the restraining hand. He felt like he might cry, whether from fear or frustration or relief he didn’t know. He just knew that this scene they found themselves in felt off, the contrast of the silence of the house with the chaos outside amplifying his discomfort. He twisted, ready to lash out at his brother. This was all wrong.

“Come on,” Aaron said quietly, “let’s get you cleaned up.”

He picked Sean up, which was not exactly what he had wanted, but the closeness brought some comfort. He wrapped his arms around his brother’s neck and rested his head on his shoulder, his breaths evening out, warm against Aaron’s wet skin. He couldn’t understand the look he’d seen in his mother’s eyes. Like Aaron, sometimes she confused him, happy one moment and solemn the next. He was never sure what he’d done to make her draw away from him. He sniffled into Aaron’s shirt collar.

Aaron rubbed his back as he carried him up the stairs. “It’s gonna be okay, buddy.” He tried not to grit his teeth as he said it, wanting so badly for it to be true.

Sean nodded against his chest, still willing to believe his big brother would take care of everything.

[bakamoonshine]

Throne

Summary: Draco teases you, and you know he secretly cares about you too much, but you lash out at him. Idea formulated from Throne by Bring Me the Horizon.

Word Count: 1.2k

Warnings: Angst, Swearing, a little OOC, sort of a toxic relationship I guess idk, a small amount of fluff

A/N: So, I really liked the idea for this fic, but I’m not sure I executed it well lol. I really struggled with this one, it took me multiple days, so leave me some feedback and some requests!

             As you walk past the boy’s bathroom on the third floor, you hear quiet sniffling. You peak your head in, just in time to watch your boyfriend, Draco Malfoy, dip his head down into his hands and let out a mangled sob. His hair is strewn across his face, robes thrown across the sink next to him, his shirt disheveled and unbuttoned at the top as he desperately tries to throw some water onto his face. Even at this distance, I can see his hands shaking. You’ve never seen Draco quite like this before – almost manic in his movements, a wildness and deep sadness in his eyes that you would have never expected to exist there. Your heart broke at the scene in front of you, wishing you could comfort him but knowing his cold demeanor would immediately return in the presence of another. You quietly closed the door and slipped away, Draco none the wiser of what you had witnessed.

***

           You take your seat in Defense Against the Dark Arts, waiting for class to start and hoping the lesson will be interesting today. You self-consciously hope that nobody notices how puffy your eyes are – you and Draco had a fight the night before. You can’t even remember what the fight was about now, but whenever you cry a lot, you wake up the next morning with incredibly puffy eyes. You watch solemnly as your boyfriend struts into the room, clearly not bothered by what had happened the night before.

“Oh Y/N, something on your mind? You really should get a hold of your emotions. It’s a bit pathetic really” Draco says, noting your red-rimmed eyes. You know he’s being more of an ass because he’s around his friends, but it still hurts. He slouches back into his chair; the ankle of his right food balanced on his left knee in a position of laziness. He looked proud of himself for what he had just said, the smirk on his face growing as his hand found its way to rest under his chin, thumb on one side and all his fingers on the other. ‘That git,’ you thought to yourself, unable to contain your frustration anymore.

           “You sit in your chair like it’s a throne, but you don’t even rule yourself,” you snarled at him. His face immediately dropped, eyes widening. The horror-struck expression he wore let you know that he knew exactly what you had seen in the boy’s bathroom earlier in the week. “You expect me to be master of my emotions, shouldn’t you expect the same from yourself? Hypocritical ass…” you huffed, trailing off at the end. Draco immediately got up from his seat and swept from the room, footsteps distinctly telling you where he was going. Groaning in exasperation, you followed him silently, not regretting your words but wishing you hadn’t been quite so harsh.

You followed Draco towards the Room of Requirement, not knowing what to expect but wanting to fix the damage you’d done either way. You hid as you waited for Draco do disappear into the room, then quickly followed him through the door before it could disappear. It looked like a giant library, but while there were books tidily stacked on the shelves, there were also books stacked haphazardly on the ground, creating a giant maze. Through one of the corridors created by the books, you could just catch a glimpse of a squishy, green armchair. You started to walk towards it, hoping Draco would be seated in the chair opening a book, when someone grabbed your wrist. You whipped around, biting off a scream as the handsome, pale face came into view, a halo of white-blonde hair surrounding it.

           “Draco,” you breathed, letting out your breath as you realized it was exactly who you were looking for. “I didn’t mean-” he cut you off with a lazy wave of his hand.

           “I know, Y/N.” He looked directly into your face when he spoke again. “But anybody who says anything against me has the wrong idea, you must know that. Every wound, mental or physical, helps shape me into the person I’m going to become. You say I sit on a throne while I can’t even rule myself – well,” he scoffs, “every scar I’ve ever gotten has helped me build that throne. I will use the sticks and stones that have been thrown at me along the way to build an empire, rebuild everything that everybody else broke along the way. They can cry me a river for all I care – I forgive them because without them, I’d have no reason to fucking fight.” By the time he’s finished speaking, Draco is panting slightly, out of breath from finally saying what he’s been keeping bottled up. I know that there is more that needs explaining, but I’m glad he’s at least let some form of emotion out, even if it’s anger.

           “Draco,” I say gently, not wanting to make him even angrier. “I know that you know I saw you in the bathroom the other day. Do you want to talk about it?” He looks up at me sharply, not expecting me to bring it up. He shakes his head.

           “I can’t talk to you about it. It would just put you in more danger than you already are dating me.” You look at him with concern, softly grabbing his arm and rubbing the spot where you know his dark mark is, trying to counter the bad with some good. You can feel him relax a little bit under your touch, so you tug on his arm to pull him closer. You move your arms up to loop them around his neck and feel him move to bury his head in the crook of your neck. You feel hot tears drip onto your shoulder and run your hand through his hair soothingly. “I can’t lose you” he whispers, voice cracking, making your heart break even further.

           “I’m yours, Dray,” you whisper back, lifting his head up to meet your gaze and wiping the tears from his face. You place a small kiss on the tip of his nose, and he crinkles his nose in response. He pulls your face to his chest and runs one hand over your hair, smoothing it down. After some thought, he rests his chin on your head.

           “I know,” he replies simply, making you worry about his family ties to the Dark Lord. Could you be in that much danger? You burrow your face further against Draco as you think ‘Would I die for Draco Malfoy? Would I die to keep him safe?’ You pull your face away from Draco’s chest and look into his pale, grey eyes, now stormy after the tears they had spilled. Despite how much of an ass he is sometimes, you know deep down that you love him. When he looks down, connecting your eyes, the corners of his mouth turn up in a small smile. You immediately get butterflies in your stomach. ‘Yes…I would die for Draco Malfoy.’

[theravencawsatmidnight]

Rabbit ii

More of my purely indulgent fic of Draco Malfoy 💚

W! Mean! Draco(kinda) possessiveness

Tags @khemz1312 @squeaky-ducky

Draco pulled himself away from you to fix his robes and roll his shoulders straightening himself out. The stare he gave you made you shake in your knees, what did you do? It was his lackeys not you..

“The next time.. this happens..”

“It was them not me!”

Draco raised a brow at you, at that raised voice. He stepped over grabbing your face with a smile that seemed to go all the way up his face.”who are you yelling at?”

“Im not.. i.. i mean..i didn't mean too..”

“Should i tell Hufflepuff they have a cheater in the house?”

“No!!” You grabbed his robe pleading with him.

Draco let go of your face to rub your cheek with his thumb. “Say your a good badger who would never yell at her superior” he told her with a smirk.

You did not want to cry in front of him, everytime you did he would lick your cheek and tell you how sweet you taste.. instead you hid your face in his chest to hide your tears while you spoke. “Im a good ba-badger who would never yell at her superior”

You could feel Draco stroking your back in slow movements. “Such a well behaved badger, a good rabbit.” Slowly he took his wand out. “But i think.. i should still punish you.”

The same second you looked up at him he waved his wand around at you .

Everything got much.. much bigger around you. Everything seemed closer and your sense of smell was heightened.. and all you could think about was carrots….

Draco kneeled down, tipping his head looking satisfied with himself . “Perfect. Lets hope i can figure out how to change you back. But never mind that, lets go to class” he scooped you up in his hands and held you up by a nearby mirror looking very happy. “Look at you, so fluffy now” . Your long ears shot up and you began to panic. You were a white rabbit.

***

You were panicking in his grip. No no no. not this. You cant talk, nothing! You had to completely rely on Draco till he changed you back… you looked up at the happy man who was making kiss faces at you telling you how cute you looked like this. He opened his cloak to place you inside a pocket and scratched your head with a finger. “Off we go yeah?” he teased as he started to walk. Draco was so focused on you he did not realize his father had passed him in the hall seeing him talk to a snowy white rabbit. All you could think about was changing back and running away, somewhere safe. Maybe Hagids Hut...but all you could do for right now was wait it out.

The class was spells with Professor Snape. Your ears fell behind you when you heard his voice. He would not help you change back. Draco sat down in the back taking you out of his pocket to place you on his lap and scratch your chin. The look he gave you was demeaning…. So happy with himself, satisfied with his work. Treating you like a legit animal and turning you into one. What if he never figured out how to change you back!? You hopped in a circle on his lap panicking all over again. Snape isint gonna help me, what am i gonna do ?! what if i hop away and find help, but i cant talk!! And Draco would probably turn me into a frog ! what about.. McGonagall, she can turn into a cat maybe she could help me...

“Shh shh… pretty rabbit” he spread his legs slouching in his chair.” Be good and i might change you back.” his tone was condescending and hurtful, he had all the power right now. Your ears fell behind you again and you hopped to his stomach nuzzling his shirt up and over your eyes trying to pretend you were anywhere else. He cooed down at you scratching your rear and tugging your ear lightly. “Arent you cute when you wanna be ey? You didint want to snuggle the other night but look at you now.” you felt his hand scratch at your rear again. Why would i want to snuggle after what you did… “I like having you there Rabbit. Gets you used to my scent and i can feel your little wet nose wiggling against my chest, your cold padded front feet kneading my lap.” shut up.. I hate this, i hate it.. his long fingers stroked along your back, back and forth. “Your so fragile like this, a defenseless little Rabbit, if i change you back will you do this for me when your human?” he asked you, expecting an answer. What? Does he mean cuddle? You shook your head and budged your face into his chest feeling really sad. Why me, he could have picked on anyone else. If he changes me back im going to ask… You stretched a leg out getting sleepy. Why does that feel .. so nice.. Why is he being like this.. “aww, “ he tickled your little foot, smirking big. “Comfy on me? How adorable. Lets hope Snape doesn't call on me for some bloody demonstration” Draco turned his attention to the man, a hand still on your back rubbing ever so slowly, lulling you right to sleep.

Later on you woke up from the sound of students and the smell of food. It was dark and you could only see Draco a little bit . you must be in his pocket again. I slept the whole class? Is it lunchtime? The day is almost over then. Im hungry.. Dracos robe pockets were deep, deep enough for you to sit comfortably in his robe with two front feet sticking out in front of you. It was cozy… you wished it wasn't. All you could smell was him, all you could really hear was him, him him him… You yawned kicking your back feet around alerting Draco that you were awake. He moved his arm a bit so his robe opened making it easy for him to see you. He smiled down at you and held out some of a carrot for you. “Have a nice nap Pet? You slept the whole class” he held his robe open with his free hand .

You sniffed the carrot hearing your tummy growl. Dammit why is he like this… i am hungry..

It was mentally painful for you to do but you held your mouth open and Draco placed the carrot on your bottom teeth chuckling to himself.

“Malfoy? Where'd you get the rabbit?” Crabb asked him, from the opposite side of the table.

“Never took you for an animal lover mate.” Goyle added.

“None of your business, its for class” he snapped at them before feeding you again.

Ugn,,, just give me the whole thing… you kicked your feet and Draco glanced down at you again. “Hungry still? Can you give me the big sad eyes?”

You want me to beg you.. While im a rabbit.. For food!? When is this going to end…

You sighed low, moved your front paws together so they overlapped, lowered your ears till they touched your back and gave Draco the biggest, saddest eyes you could do, you even added in a lip quiver.

“Thaaaats my good Rabbit, my good girl.” he held out the whole carrot and you took it into the pocket nibbling like crazy.

“Hes talking to his rabbit”

“Just.. just dont say anything…”

After lunch Draco decided to just stroll around the castle. He talked about himself mostly or his father. He had you up on his shoulder and was outside the castle just walking around. Everyone he passed either gave him a look or asked about his companion. If they were not Slytherin he did not even look at them. But if they were of his House he would tell them he had a special class assignment and had to drag a rat around all day. Every now and then he would nuzzle his cheek on you while he walked, hands in his pockets, smile on his face, head in the clouds.

“Ya know Rabbit, this is the best day i've had in a long time i think. Its a lot less tiring than making hell for that Gryffindor kid. How bout you Pet? Good day?” he looked at you nuzzling you again.

I cannot…. Begin to explain how awful this is… i'm not your little accessory. Its your lackey's fault i'm stuck like this. I think you are a - wah!

Draco brought you to his chest to hold you as he sat down near a small river with flowers next to it. He had one leg up and placed you between them to scratch your chin. “Want a little treat for being so good?” he leaned over picking a flower, holding it down to you.

Are you kidding me…

“No? Cmon love, cheers”

You thumped a foot opening your mouth for him to place the little dandelion in. “good little Rabbit, tasty?”

You swallowed the flower whole with wide eyes. It is good.. You got out of his lap to hop to the flowers munching another and another making Draco laugh to himself. “Well i guess so Pet.” he watched you munch on a few flowers for awhile, leaning back on his hands. “Rabbit” he said.

What now… You turned to him with your ears back.

“Come to me,” he pat his lap. “Cmon, right here”

Im not a damn dog.. You hopped over between his legs again and he scratched your back in long strokes.Ugn dooonttt.. Il fall asleep again … Your little body slouched over his thigh and you nuzzled your face into his crotch closing your eyes.

“Must be the sweet spot yeah?” he glided his fingers down then up your fuzzy back watching your back legs kick out from under you. You were getting sleepy all over again. Dammit why.. Just stay… aw..aw...awak...e…

“If only you would let me do this when your human.” you heard him say.

Wait what? What did he say just now? Your nose wiggled and you laid your chin on his crotch staring up at him.

“What? I told you i dont know how to change you back” he spat out looking away.

Maybe,, pretend to sleep…

You nuzzled your face back into his crotch closing your eyes and Draco laid his head on his knee watching you.

“Those fucking two trying to touch you, i dont know what came over me. Your mine, Little Rabbit. No one can touch you, no one can have you, no one can take you away from me. Not your stupid House, not the teachers, no one. Youll stay loyal to me wont you? Thats what Hufflepuff is. My loyal little Rabbit.”

What.. what does this mean?does he plan to keep me with him after graduation?! You wiggled around and Draco scooped you up laying down with you on his chest. You looked scared to him. Draco scratched your head and you scooted closer to his face putting a foot on his chin.

“Yes little Rabbit?”

I dont understand you.. Why are you being so soft right now.. All the time your mean and cruel to me but today… i dont understand. Is this all a trick to get me to fall for you? Mess with my head?

Draco pouted his lips at you. “Hmm? Give us a kiss, Pet” he fake whimpered.

I swear when im changed….

You moved your foot getting closer to nuzzle his face. Draco smiled pulling you closer and closing his eyes. “Good little Rabbit.” he dozed off holding you.

I could leave… find help.. Your body felt weird all of a sudden. Whats going on ? im floating?! Draco!! Draco!!! You struggled in the air watching Draco get farther and farther away. You floated back inside the castle and up some stairs to a open door where a man was waving his wand around directing you. He had long blond hair and looked very curious. You knew who he was the instant he put you on his desk.

His hand cupped your chin giving him a good look at you. Your squeezing too tight.. Please.. It hurts..

“Black and yellow eyes,. A Hufflepuff student.” he stroked your back in long hard strokes while he talked. “How did my son come across you? I wonder? I think ill hold onto you, he should realize soon enough..”

Lucious Malfoy… anyone but him… Malfoy was tolerable.. But his father… please come find me Draco…….and soon.

[poptod]

The Breeding Kings, pt. 15, (Ahkmenrah x Reader)

Description: Dripping with dust.

Notes: i have a bunch of chapters backpiled, im gonna post them all and then dip. WC: 2.6k

+

Despite everyone's attempts to keep up a faster pace, many of you lagged behind, depleted entirely of energy after the long pause. Ahkmen had grown long accustomed to the heat, but that didn't stop him from complaining as he walked beside you, his shoulders sagging.

"I told you I didn't trust Batnoam," he grumbled quietly, half hoping you wouldn't hear.

"We can be dead now if we did not go with him," you said, swatting away the flies that swarmed around your heated head, and around the camel you rode.

"You don't know that," he said.

"And you do not know we would be better with Batnoam not here," you said with a saccharine smile.

He rolled his eyes but chuckled, giving away his true feelings on the matter.

You and Ahk brought up the rear once again, and by choice, allowing you few onlookers and listeners to judge your conversations. The only person that saw you was the one lagging behind––Makko. He'd been silent since his outburst, distant in both physical and psychological terms. There was an air of shame that he carried, one that he made himself, and one he suffered the burden of. Ahkmen spared a couple glances back, but had little idea on how he could help.

"Makko!" You called, twisting around in the loaded saddle.

Makko, who was previously staring at the ground, looked up.

"You do have water?" You asked, holding up one of your last full flasks.

"I, uh..." he mumbled, his words almost entirely muted beneath the footsteps in dry, cracking earth, "ran out a little bit ago."

"Then this," you said as you screwed the cap on tight, tossing it over to him.

"Oh. Zank you," he said in a lighter tone.

Banks of sand that flowed like water turned to arid, hard earth, devoid of any life or water. Red and yellow mountains broke out of the valley plateau, blocking away the edge of the sky and the distant cities beyond. As wide as it was, it was still a valley, and thus a place that would gather sunlight like a thief gathers gold, glowing yellow dust painting every surface around him. His hands were beginning to crack open much like the earth did, dry and deep. A burning sensation was building in his nose from the amount of dust kicked up by those he followed, and there was very little water left at all amongst the caravan.

You had little more than a few bites of dinner that next night. A growling stomach bothered you through a restless sleep, grasping desperately at the body next to you as you sweated from your twitching. Ahk couldn't manage to fall asleep, so he was awake to feel you gripping his hands and shirt, muttering something in a language he didn't know.

"Yogi?" He whispered, blinking away the sand that caught on his eyelashes.

You inhaled sharply, but your eyes remained closed.

"Yogasundari, calm down," he said as he raised his hand, stroking delicate fingers over your cheek and jaw. "It's alright."

You choked on yourself for a few more seconds before the harsh breaths gave way to evenness, slowing to match his own pace. Rapid, sleeping blinks slowed as well, creating a small sense of peace within the hostile desert. Ahk sighed, removing his hand from you.

"There you are," he murmured.

He got little rest after that.

Midnight faded into heated afternoon, the empty stomach, burning eyes and skin, and thirst remaining a staple of his aching body. A massive sun burned above, shining directly in the basin of red stone and dry dust. The water in his mouth turned to sweat on the back of his neck, sticking to his head covering, and running down the back of his shirt. Even the wind brought nothing but heat––boiling them inside a metalworker's furnace.

Days and nights followed in similar fashions, attempting to bring some semblance of comfort to each other, and too exhausted to bother interacting with others. Those walking in front of you turned silent as well, and Batnoam rarely spoke outside of mutterings to himself. Open mouths wasted precious water.

Several days later, in the evening, Ahk sat in the sand, his wooden totem in one hand and his knife in the other. He looked between the two of them, his eyes dragging listlessly from one object to the other as he blinked slowly. If he burned it, he'd be able to make a fire, albeit small since there was only one bush growing in the nearest crevice. Or, you could remain in the dark, and he could give a work of art to you. He turned to you, hoping to find some sort of answer, only to see you already asleep, your hand outstretched to him.

He shifted slowly into a lying position, moving your limp body as he needed till he wrapped himself in you, breathing deeply to slow his anxious heart. His lips, once soft as rose petals, were chapped and often bleeding, even as they pressed a weak kiss to your midsection.

The first signs of civilization were scant––travellers going in the opposite direction on roads you didn't know, causing Batnoam to take a detour to the south, to where the pathways were laid out. In either way there had to be humans, a city, or a village, and even more hopefully a wealth of water and food. But the residences you found yourself in the presence of were small, poorly made, and built upon a hilltop of ruins. On the other side of the town, however, was a vast, flowing river lined with soft grasses and shady trees. You let out a laugh––probably the first one anyone in the caravan had heard in a week––and threw your hands up into the air in victory.

"We did not die!" You cried, pouncing onto Ahk with a fierce hug that nearly toppled him onto the ground.

"Shut up!" Shouted a distant voice from within the village.

Since there were no walls put up around the establishment, there were no guards to protect a particular entrance. Instead, thin streets wove around unevenly placed buildings of clay and mud, many of which had roofs with reed mats set out beside ladders and spreads of drying fruit. As you got deeper into town, a few more intricate buildings came into view. Several floors high and carved in a peculiarly African fashion, they loomed above the other buildings as towers in the vacant sky, the mark of a once booming city state. Forgotten, empty, and rotting.

The people who passed by your large group gave you odd stares, but none wanted to speak to you, which made finding a kitchen or tavern rather difficult. In the end, you all figured they probably didn't have a tavern.

You made it all the way through town and out the other side, where––to Batnoam's knowledge––the Euphrates flowed. Here, the two riverbanks weren't all that far apart, and the water ran in a steady, clear ripple over rocks and mud. The grasses and trees you saw before were now before all of you, and you grinned in relief at the feeling of grass around your feet.

Camels knelt down in the soft dirt the moment they realized they were allowed to do so, and the many travellers that made up the caravan slowly removed all their baggage and belongings. You and Ahk got yours rather quickly, and moved to the side, checking that everything was still in place and unbroken.

As you opened up your first bag, Sephys came jumping out of it, causing you to flinch backwards with your eyes squeezed shut. You sighed once you realized she hadn't hurt you. She was, however, leaving you behind, as she shambled off to the riverside.

"Will she be alright?" Ahk asked, glancing between you and the cat.

"Oh, yes, she is good," you said dismissively.

You shuffled things around in your bags a moment more, your arms stuck deep within, the brim nearly sitting around your shoulder. Afterwards you sat back, taking a deep breath as you lay down.

Ahk made way to say something, but before he could, he noted Makko coming closer, alone with his bags. Crunching footsteps brought you to sit up and recognize him, as well.

"I vanted to say thank you, for being a friend," he said in a quiet voice. "I am going north now."

"With Khawa?" Ahk asked, but Makko shook his head.

"No, I am too much of a danger to have in ze... in a trader's caravan. I do not want Shirat, or any of zem, to get hurt."

Makko looked over his shoulder to Shirat, who was discussing something with Eshai, her long, black robes fluttering in the wind.

"I know," you said softly. "I know what it is, what you are. Hunted. I... hope you are well in your travels. Here, um... take this."

You pulled out a bottle filled with a strange, almost green liquid.

"It is for wounds. A little will do a lot," you said, handing it to him. He hesitantly took it.

"Thank you," he said, his voice cracking as he bowed his head and left.

Sitting from a distance allowed you and Ahk to slowly see the caravan split into different directions, some with and some without the camels that Batnoam began to sell. Soon, there were very few people left at all, and Ahk rose to his feet, gesturing for you to do the same.

"I don't want to have to talk to Batnoam again," he muttered in your ear, "so I think we should go now before he approaches us."

You agreed with a small, but definite, nod.

The two of you hauled your bags on your shoulders and backs, trecking back into town in hopes of finding something to eat, or a place to stay, at least for the night. A much longer pause was needed, but this town didn't seem like a good place to stop and rest up. More of a 'take a breath and keep going' kind of place.

Despite that, it still was the beginning of evening, and you were both irreparably exhausted and hungry. Sick of trying to negotiate food with the inhabitants of the town––which was called Mari, according to Batnoam––you instead took up a place along the river's shore, hiding yourselves from view within thickets of soft, green leaves. There you started up the fire, while Ahk fashioned a long, wooden pike that he drove into the riverbed in search of fish. Sephys eventually made her way to you as well, joining Ahk in trying to catch a meal.

You chuckled when he swore, ripping the stick out from between lodged rocks. He nearly slipped onto his back as he did, so when he caught himself, his eyes were wide as the sky, causing you to only laugh even more.

After a while his feet began to freeze in the water, and he lugged himself up on shore devoid of any fish. In a disappointed heap he returned to you, panting as he sat down, warming his feet on your fire.

"I have no heal potion now," you said, pulling a small mixing pot out from your bag. "I need to make one."

"How'd you do that?" He asked.

"Mint, chamomile, and honey of marigolds. And tears from being sad, but I get those later, when I am sad next," you recited as you once more dug into your bag, searching through your dried herbs.

"Do marigolds grow here?" He asked, tilting his head to the side.

"You know more than I," you said with a shrug.

A few moments later you pulled out two leather drawstring bags, both of them fitting into the palm of your small hands. You didn't do anything with them, though––just set them beside your bag, and stood up with an empty bag at your side.

"You get fish," you said, gesturing to the river. "I do find the flower."

"I'm not sure I can," he said, a feeling of dreariness washing over him as he considered his own shortcomings.

"I know you can," you assured him as you bent down in front of him, meeting his eye with a smile before you turned and left.

He sighed deeply, willing himself to move from his spot in front of the warm fire that contrasted the cool wind coming off the river. Eventually, after staring at Sephys for far too long, he snatched his spear up from beside him and stood, wading back into the water.

When you at last convened back at the dwindling fire, you came back empty-handed, but Ahk had caught a little bit of luck. A fish large enough for the two of you cooked over the flames, attracting Sephys back to you, who batted at the spinning stick. You giggled, pushing her away so Ahk could continue slowly roasting. She returned to the river after a while of being jostled about, leaving you alone with Ahk, your hands unoccupied by the marigolds you couldn't find.

"Tired?" He asked, noting your slumped posture leaning on one hand, your eyes half-closed.

"Yes," you said with a nod. "And you are."

"Can't say you're wrong," he mumbled.

You ate in silence, digging away at the unseasoned fish with gusto unparalleled in the entirety of the past week. The mere scent of water tempted your tastebuds, so the feeling of fresh meat was more of a relief than you ever imagined it could be, even dusted with the dirt you hadn't washed your hands of. You hardly noticed, gulping down the food until nothing remained but bones. The skin, Ahk had cut earlier, before cooking it.

When you finished, you tossed the bones into a small pile near the river. Sephys sniffed the remains and curled away when she realized there wasn't any meat left, returning to sit by you. Dust and twigs scratched at your palms pressed into the ground, and when Ahkmen noticed this, he heaved himself to his feet and motioned for you to do the same.

"Why?" You asked, your head lolling to face him.

"Please," he said, and you did, picking up Sephys with you.

He laid out a blanket, the span of it stretching in a circle beside the fire. You both sat down, keeping closer together as possible, and eager to feel the softness of dirt instead of hard rock beneath you. Evenings were still rather warm, yet remained more of a comfort than anything else. A time of silent communication, speaking through fingers tracing in one another's skin, watching the fire slowly die out to feed the glowing stars above.

It wasn't long till you passed out, your head falling onto Ahk's shoulder. He simply chuckled, situating the both of you till you were both lying down, him on his back to look up at the stars, and you curled into him. Trees with their limbs and leaves blocked portions of the sky, but there still remained small pockets of sprinkled light. What was previously warm turned cold, and the ease of his heart faded into disparity as memories occurred to him, of you, of Egypt, and of Piye. How far he had roamed to follow you, and how far he sat from his home by the Nile.

That was where he belonged, wasn't it? His eyes were weary and he had little room to worry with you next to him and the journey still ahead. But in his dreams he returned to his temples, to the wealth of water and riches, and to his family, for whom he never left a note.

[blushing-starker]

Insanity brings me truth and you

can you guess what Peter's doing to not be understood by the guards?

It's not easy, being crazy. There are expectations to run away from, a bar to limbo under, a specific number of people one has to betray and scar. The unknowable becomes knowable, so you have to skirt the edge of that Venn diagram very carefully. Or very recklessly. Either way, it's a complex thing except for when it's not. Jesus, how infuriating to think about. The point is, the paradox that crazies carry on their shoulders? It's a fucking hassle, a tricky one and Peter is tired of it.

He sighs, lets gravity bend him backward, legs slipping dangerously off the blanket he's hung as a hammock inside his cell. Act like a psycho and you're predictable, don't act like an ax wielding murderer and whoops! Predictable. It's the downside of being insane; you leave the weary capitalist consumer mask out in the world, probably set that shit on fire and make yourself sick with the fumes. But you just replace it with the one labelled 'danger to society' and get forced to play along with that. He did what he did to avoid the world and its predetermined fate, its standards.

Peter closes his eyes, thinks of the nauseating smell on his left. Rupert, the guard that dared graze him while he came back from the shower naked, has a broken nose thanks to Ned and his loyalty to him. The idiot barely cleans the open wound and the whole cell reeks of pus because of it. He does the math of how long it's been going on for and shudders in disgust. His bare calves slip a little more.

An inhale near the front of his cage. Slow, but controlled. Not the usual. Thank God for a circus family and heightened senses.

The doctor is paying attention to him.

"Doctor Stark. Gnittor gnihtemos llems ouy nac?" Rupert grumbles from his perch on the second floor, curses a hare brained psycho that's incomprehensible. Peter hums, pleased to know that after ten months, nine days, twelve hours, and...

Breathe in. Breathe out. Focus on sinking deeper into nothing, into a yawning void. The blanket shakes and his thighs are starting to tremble. Blood is rushing to his head, veins most likely beginning to protrude. Irrelevant.

His favorite guard Stan wears a Swiss watch his wife got for him on their fortieth anniversary. It sings to him now, smooth and cool like a river. A skipping stone is thrown, tic, a fish heads towards the sound, toc. Above all the other stimuli in the room, the watch announces itself. Ten fifteen.

Ten months, nine days, twelve hours and twenty minutes into a game, his tiny gnat still hasn't caught on. Not like the charming doctor. He sees him then, behind closed eyelids, as clearly as a sweet nightmare. Tall, taller than Peter, but less strong. Wide shoulders that morph into a slim waist and a delectable ass he aches to sink his teeth into. Shapely calves from running, curiously delicate looking ankles.

Down and back again. A full head of dark hair with a dusting of silver. Dangerously clever mouth, what his aunt would call a noble nose. Agreeable cheekbones. Piercing eyes that tear his walls down, rip apart the bricks and mortar until he's scrambling on the other side, desperately, clumsily attempting to reinforce them for the millionth time. Those eyes saw the trick, the mirror reflection on his second day here, Peter offhandedly talking in reverse with Ned when they passed the new doctor. A dark gaze had pinned him in place, a spider fixed in place with its own silk against the cold dissection table.

Ned had rambled on, Peter had met a worthy playmate and the doctor had seen all he needed in that eternally prolonged glance. That very afternoon, a psychiatrist signed on as his very own voyeur.

Doctor Stark seems to be as interested in cutting him open to peek inside as Peter is in taking a dagger and comparing their hearts. He does this a lot; wonders how fate and the absence of lucky fate led them here. On opposite sides of a prison when perhaps it should be the other way around. Or perhaps there should only be Peter and Doctor Stark.

He feels himself falling, plummeting ever downward into fantasies and hazy dreams. It's not until the good doctor sharply calls out his name that he realizes he's also plummeting towards the floor. Now, MJ had warned him; had specifically said that the hammock being ten feet off the concrete ground was a bad idea. Ned had said he'd be fine and Peter loves the guy, ok? He has to do everything he can so that his best friend wins a bet over his other best friend.

Peter slightly regrets that when he's forced to arch his body backward, flip right side up in order to hit the floor on his feet instead of his face. The impact chokes the air right out of him, shakes his bones, but he doesn't react. Cracks his neck and that's all. Most of the guards were kind, some shade of understanding. They weren't harmless, though. He knows what he looks like, knows how many hours these men are cooped up with the scum of the earth.

"To answer your question," Peter leaps onto the bars of his cell, slithers higher than any sane person would and somersaults off the vertical slits, sinks into his trustworthy hammock with its trustworthy knots (MJ and Ned had tied them, one each), "yes, I do. It's less potent this time."

He stills, frowns. "How? There haven't been any changes. External or internal." No need to act like the Mad Hatter when the conversation could be had normally. Quicker and more reliable with meanings. But the doctor pauses, enunciates his next words slowly.

"Ti koot uoy erom emit yadot." God, he loved hearing Doctor Stark talk that carefully and smoothly. It was as comforting as it was uncomfortable. (He and sex don't particularly get along. It's like a headache that comes and goes; with the right medicine it can dissipate and evolve into something soothing, pleasant. With the majority of medicine, it blossoms into pain and soreness, a dry throat clogged by a thick syrup that won't leave him be no matter how much water MJ and Ned encourage him to drink. Peter isn't yet completely certain which side of his scale the doctor falls on, but he's guessing it's likely the first.)

(The man seemed to live in the grey areas; fitting that with this, too, he'd reside in the in between.)

The reverse effect is in play and he grins, genuine and wide, when he catches it. "Monsters are visiting more frequently, taking up space in the light." His nightmares had intensified recently, and they're starting to accompany him even in moments Peter knows are real; shapes drifting by the corner of his eye. As a coping tactic, he rips parts of his nails off. Not entirely, just the corners. His mind could concoct lots of things, but in his dreams his hands are always pristine.

(He hasn't caught up with it, hasn't noticed that although his nightmares have a clearness to them, a bright intensity, Peter can't shift enough focus to realize his hands aren't his own. They never are. But he usually has more pressing bodies to deal with than the good doctor's.)

Another pause, this one being done by Tony Stark, doctor and healer of men, instead of Doctor Stark, curious keeper of deranged souls. "I'm sorry to hear that. Maybe this will help." Peter peers over the edge of the grey hammock, watches with interest as the doctor approaches his cell with a glass bottle of clear liquid sloshing inside. The other man stops an inch away from the bars, looks up at Peter.

There's a slow tension simmering between them, something as thick and addictive as honey. There's scientific curiosity, a desire to seek out and maybe comprehend the unknown lurking inside their mirror image, as other and as alike as oneself. But there is also a gleam of something he's afraid of acknowledging in Doctor Stark's eyes. A madness once tucked away steadily unraveling itself with each glance they share.

Peter returns the look, unblinking and thinking. " 'If you gaze for long into an abyss, the abyss gazes also into you.' " A lesson Nietzsche offered to those wise enough, sane enough to live blind.

The doctor raises an eyebrow, is otherwise still. Sometimes, if Peter considers their current predicament for too long, his grasp on his masks loosens, and the Spider begins to spin its deadly thread round and round its very own body. He sees a guard exchange money with a partner; the crazy quota has, he guesses, been filled for the week. And they had such a nice streak going on, too. Oh, well. This web is unavoidable anyways.

He pitches himself forward, is the one who controls the descent instead of gravity this time. Letting the air rush up to meet him, he inhales, tastes a distinct sharpness around him. Crouching, Peter takes it all in, every last detail. Looks, really looks, at the doctor and suspects.

As if he were none the wiser, he calmly heads to the front of the cell. Meets the doctor at the divide and wonders what it'll be. Wonders if he'll rise higher than ash and flame, an acrobat testing the fates by flying just seconds ahead of death. Doctor Stark hands him the bottle and he can see now, tiny pieces of lavender. A distraction for the guards. "That should keep the monsters in the dark. Use it before you got to sleep and tuck away your hair."

Like a schoolgirl with a crush, he self consciously brings a hand to his curls. They're getting a bit long, but the warden only allows haircuts once a month or two. "I don't have anything to use." Digging into his lab coat, the other man retrieves a single black stick.

Well, to everyone else it's a hair pin. Peter knows the truth though, can see it and smell it and very nearly touch it. As it is, he gently plucks the items out of elegant hands and refuses to look at them. Looking draws attention. Doctor Stark gazes at his face, eyes flickering in a rehearsed way around his own, but not into them. That's alright, he understands.

"The lack of movement around your face should also help." The question of why is out before he can reel it in and act as a sane, normal person. Christ, he could handle crazy, not rude. He would have to practice being in control so as not to slip up when the doctor is around. Said doctor cocks his head, doesn't have to do anything more for Peter to get the message: go on, ask the devil why he made the deal.

Peter B Parker does not back down when intrigued. "Why are you helping me sleep better?"

Why help me escape?

"It's my duty." Three words. Not the explicit declaration of affection typical, normal, dull people receive from an admirer or partner. Not a grand proclamation of wanting what the heart wants, or a sonnet regarding the connection between star crossed paramours. Simple, short, concise; enough to turn to religion, to sanctity and salvation if it means hearing it again. He'd do anything, including putting on a discarded mask from his past if it gets him what he desires. Peter would suffer through sanity for this man. He would if it means hearing what sounds silent to those around them.

You're my duty. Whatever happens tonight, Doctor Stark believes it's his duty to see it through. To see him through, in a way.

"Why would you accept?" Ah, silly doc thinking any of his principles have changed since the first time they met, since the first time he brought fire to life and gave death in return. Peter smiles, brings forth the prisoner that had not seen the light of day in almost a decade.

(His uncle often said Peter's greatest gift to the world was his smile, his true smile. His aunt said it was the final move needed to capture a king and make him his pawn.)

"Why, doc, you know I hate to be bored." Call him a psycho, a freak, a sick, pitiful creature. Call him anything and everything and maybe those words would ring true. But Peter will never allow himself to be bored, not when there's so much fun to be had. Especially with a doctor as crazy as he is. "This looks...promising."

" 'He who fights with monsters might take care lest he thereby become a monster.' " The first part of Nietzsche's warning.

"Nietzsche didn't understand; those who fought monsters were already fated to become what they struggled to defeat. They believed salvation could be found by killing the monsters outside, but all they did was feed the ones inside."

Anthony Stark, the truest version, grins at him, all glinting eyes, sharp teeth and a crooked smile. Peter Parker, armed with a match, gasoline and soon to be glass shards, grins right back. In this instant, being crazy isn't such a hassle. After all, he has someone to share the crazy with now.

[stop-breaking-my-heart-telltale]

[against all odds, your hand is in mine] [1/4]

Seasons change, and with each comes a different story. In a world where the dead roam around, romantic companionship seems unlikely. Yet Ericson stands, and within it are four couples who are proof that it's possible.

Spring: Briolet | flowers, picnics, blueberries, running river

Read on AO3

Notes: Sometimes I get the urge to write four oneshots over the course of two days. This is the first of those oneshots. It’s briolet in spring, but be careful: there is so much hand holding and some smooches. Don’t say I didn’t warn you. 

[screenshot used is from the lovely @pi-creates]

---

Brody pricks her finger again. It's easy to avoid that, but she doesn't have a thimble, and her hands refuse to stop trembling.

No blood, and really, it didn’t even hurt. It more startled her, a bit of panic sparking in her gut at the idea of staining the martial and ruining her project. She stops her work to rest her hands and the fabric in her lap, closes her eyes, and sucks in a deep breath. It does little to calm her nerves or her impatience.

“Don’t rush,” she mumbles to herself, readjusting her position on the bed. She crosses her legs and notices a long strand of thick, pale blue thread stuck to her pants. Great, she needed that color an hour ago to finish one of the flowers.

Doesn’t matter now, the floral design is complete and all she has left is to sew the pieces together. If she can finish soon, there’ll be more than enough time to clean up, gather the basket she made up the night before, and head down to the greenhouse. Violet should still be there.

Brody smiles, setting down her needle and holding the handmade eyepatch in her hands. She rubs a thumb over one of the little white flowers. She embroidered them just this morning, a final touch to the overall design. That feeling strikes her gut again, exciting her nerves.

The idea came to her one night after Violet found her in the common room. It was late at night, and the two shared a blanket on the couch and drank tea. Violet's ruined eye was covered with bandages despite being healed over. No one was able to find her an actual eye patch. The best they found was a plastic one used for a children’s pirate costume, so she kept it bandaged.

Violet never complains about it. She considers the bandages her patch, even though they're not the most comfortable to wear every day.

Brody decided at that moment that she would make her one. She tore through her closet the next morning, sorting through old shirts until she found one she never wore. Taupe in color, a thicker material, something she could easily work with.

Though she had no idea how eyepatches were made, figuring those things out came easy to Brody. She made several patterns, testing each one out on scraps until one worked. From there, it was all about creating a design should could see Violet wearing. It wasn't difficult- sewing and embroidery work came easy to her.

A family thing that stuck, she assumes.

Her grams used to do embroidery and cross-stitching work. She made a living off sewing intricate designs, all more beautiful than any painting. If Brody closes her eyes, she can still see the doorway into her gram’s cabin. The framed design of a flowery cottage with a stone path, rural trees and a cloudless sky hung up on the wall. Her gram’s final masterpiece. She worked on it for months, pouring every ounce of love she had into each stitch. It was something Brody admired every time she walked through that doorway.

She learned to hunt and skin animals from her dad and uncles, and sewing from her grams. Best of both worlds, she supposes. Two skills that became handier than she would’ve ever thought at the time.

Though her flowers weren’t as flawless as her gram’s once were, she still put her heart into each stitch just as she did. She hopes that when Violet sees it, she’ll feel the unspoken words Brody threaded through the fabric.

Purple, white, and blue flowers of all sizes, each with a yellow french knot in the center, standing bright against the muted taupe. She sewed a thicker piece beneath it, used a tiny bit of stuffing from an old, ripped pillow to give it some comfortable cushion. A piece of a silky shirt lines the inside so Violet’s skin won’t get agitated while wearing it.

After weeks of work, all she has left to sew is the straps she made. She had no way to measure the fit for Violet’s head since she wanted this to be a surprise, so she figured she could make them extra long enough to tie comfortably while wearing. If she needed to adjust anything, she could do that later.

Brody picks her needle back up.

It doesn’t take long to finish, even with her forcing herself to take her time.

With triumph, Brody sticks her needle back into its rightful container and hops off her bed, singing, “Ta-daah~ !”

Her mind is all over the place. Wrap up the patch-- does she have a box or even a bag?-- and hide it at the bottom of the woven basket she found in the basement, stuff the blanket in as much as she can so the two cups don’t clank together, and start boiling water for tea-- where the hell did she put the jar of blueberries?

She flicks a match to light the heater she borrowed from Clementine, letting the water come to a slow boil as she searches around for the mason jar. It’s right under her nose, of course, sitting in plain sight on her shelf.

With the greenhouse running smoothly and the trading they’ve done with the traveling caravan that comes around, they're able to plant seeds for several different fruits and vegetables. This week, they finally got their first bunch of blueberries in. She managed to pick a bunch and seal them away in a jar yesterday without Violet noticing. She thought they’d make for a refreshing picnic snack to pair with tea.

Brody’s been planning this picnic for a while now, all while she was working and spring came to chase the cold away. Her favorite time of year where it’s finally warm, but cool enough to not overheat everything. Grass grows greener, flowers bloom all over the place, the river flows, and the sun shines bright in the sky most days. Other days, like yesterday, it rains. She was worried it would rain today as well, but there isn’t a cloud in the sky today.

She lets the tea steep in a large mug and squeezes what she can from an old container of mostly crystallized honey. When it’s cooled down enough, she pours it slow and steady into an empty water bottle. Sure, they can’t have iced tea given they have no way to actually make ice once winter ends, but lukewarm tea would be just as good.

Basket in hand, Brody looks out her window one last time before leaving the dorms. With every step she takes, she grows closer to the greenhouse and her heart thumps gaily against her ribs.

Outside, everyone is out and about, enjoying the warm weather. AJ and Tenn color together at the table while Mitch works on sharpening his favorite knife. Willy sulks on the couch beside him with Ruby attending to his bleeding knee. She's going on about him needing to be more careful.

Clementine and Louis sit on the steps leading into the admin building. She sits a step lower, leaning back into his chest as the two talk. Brody waves at them as she passes, and Louis gives her a knowing grin when he eyes the basket.

It’s not a long walk to the greenhouse from there. She stops when she notices the wildflowers growing by the fence of the rabbit coop. Bees buzz around the white flowers, landing in their yellow centers. She hates to disturb them, but these flowers were part of her inspiration when designing Violet’s eyepatch. They're too perfect not to pick. She shoos away a fat bumblebee with pollen sticking to its little black legs, and gathers eight of the flowers, leaving plenty for the rest.

A simple bouquet, if she could even call it that, but it works.

Once inside, the fresh scent of wet soil and leafy greens hits her. Not as refreshing as the sweet air outside, but still, it fills her lungs with warmth. Or perhaps that sensation is from seeing Violet standing beside Omar, watering what Brody believes are the potatoes.

Most of her hair pulls back into a hair tie, apart from the bangs that fall over her forehead and bandages. She hasn’t had a haircut in a while, letting it grow long enough past her shoulders. A surprise, actually. Violet hasn’t had long hair since they were kids.

Not that Brody was complaining- she likes it very much.

Violet breaks her attention from the potatoes to meet her gaze. She grins, and yes, that warmth is definitely from her. Omar continues on about some sort of new stew he wants to try making, only stopping when he notices he’s lost Violet’s attention.

“Everything doin’ okay in here?” Brody asks.

Violet gives a shrug. She sticks her hand out to run along the wooden planter to steady herself. She meets Brody halfway, replying with, “Eh, nothing too exciting. Willy biffed it while watering the rabbits this morning, but other than that...”

“He about crushed one of the babies,” Omar adds with a shake of his head. “More upset about that than he was about his skinned knee.”

“Aw, poor little guy,” Brody laughs. “That why he looked so miserable when I passed him?”

“Probably. He tried to catch it to apologize, but it was too quick even for him, and Ruby didn’t want him getting a bunch of muck all over him with an open wound, so…”

Apologizing to a baby bunny that they’re eventually going to eat? Sounds like Willy, Brody thinks. But never mind that, she has more important things than rabbits.

She reaches out to grab Violet’s free hand, her lips involuntarily curling into a bright smile as she asks, “Are you almost finished ?”

“Yeah,” Violet says, raising a questioning brow. “Why?”

“We’re going on a picnic!”

Violet pauses, only now noticing the basket in Brody’s grasp.

“We are?”

“We are!”

“That’s news to me.”

Brody lets go of her hand to present her with the flowers. Violet stares at them for a moment as her skin flushes, starting at her neck and blooming along her cheeks. If Omar weren’t standing over there, Brody would lean over and kiss that lovely blush.

“And where exactly would we have a picnic?”

“By the river. Already got a spot in mind.”

Violet holds the flowers close to her chest and clears her throat. She glances back at Omar, and says, “Uh, I don’t-”

“Go ahead,” he interrupts with a wave of his hand. “I can take care of the rest. Go have your picnic, be careful. And Brody,” he points to her, putting on a stern voice, “have her home by eight, and don’t have too much fun.”

Brody laughs.

“Yes, sir!”

Violet shakes her head, but her smile betrays her amusement.

“Well, okay, I guess we’re going on a picnic. There better be peanut butter and jelly sandwiches in there... that's what people eat on picnics, right?”

“Yeah, but no. Close, though.”

Locking their hands together once more, Brody leads Violet out of the greenhouse and through the gates. Soon, they’re outside the walls of Ericson. Heading down the path, she makes sure to keep watch out for any obstacles to warn Violet about.

Brody knows that Violet’s other eye works perfectly well, but given that her depth perception isn’t what it used to be, she can’t help but be extra careful. She used that excuse to hold Violet’s hand before they were together, both still recovering from their respective injuries. Better safe than sorry, use the buddy system, and that system requires hand-holding. Brody didn’t make the rules.

“Never been on a picnic before,” Violet breaks the silence.

“No? Not even before?”

“No.”

“We used to go out on picnics to eat and play games all the time. Me, my grandma, my daddy and uncles, cousins- if it was warm out, we were out.”

“That sounds nice.”

“Most times it was,” Brody says, giving Violet’s hand a squeeze. “ Just because those days are gone doesn’t mean we can’t do that kinda stuff now, y’know?”

“Yeah, I guess so. Though there are more walkers around than there were back then.”

“True, but that shouldn’t be a big issue today,” Brody smiles. “I asked James to check the area and he collected the walkers he found. The river should be clear.”

Even without looking at her, she can sense her surprise. Violet’s quiet for a moment, turning her head to peer around them before saying, “You planned this.”

It’s not a question, but more of a realization.

“I thought this was a spur of the moment thing,” Violet admits. “I, uh…”

When she doesn’t continue, Brody says, “ Not many opportunities to take you out on a date,” the word makes Violet blush and repress a smile, “and when one does arise, you bet your bottom dollar I’m gonna take it .”

Violet says nothing more, but her grip on Brody’s hand tightens.

They make it to the river without spotting a single walker. She kept her knife handy in case, but James was thorough, it seems. Brody makes a note to thank him again for helping her out.

The running water is soothing and the grass colors with golden dandelions. It’s nice to be down here without the intention of working up a sweat while fishing, she thinks. They find a flat piece of grass, kicking rocks, sticks, and pinecones out of the way to lay the blanket down. Together they sit side by side with the basket between them.

Rubbing her hands together, Brody digs in to pull everything out. Except for the eyepatch. It remains, wrapped in a pillowcase she found. Hopefully Louis won’t notice she snuck it from his horde of pillows.

“Alright, we got tea and blueberries,” Brody says, handing one mug to Violet and opening the mason jar of berries. Their sweet scent escapes into the air, making her mouth water.

“How’d you manage to sneak these past Omar?” Violet asks, popping a blueberry into her mouth. Her face twists at the taste, and for a moment Brody worries they might be sour, but Violet shakes her head. “They’re good, just not used to that.”

By now the tea is completely cooled, and while not cold, still delightful to sip on.

“Open wide,” Violet says, holding up a blueberry. It misses Brody’s mouth, bouncing off her chin. Violet laughs. “Pfft, c’mon.”

“Okay, okay, I’m ready, try again.”

Another miss.

“Aww, nope!”

“Well, let's see you try!”

Brody throws up a berry, and Violet misses it completely.

“Damn depth perception,” she grins, grabbing the berry and tossing it up herself. It hits her cheek, lost to the grass. “Damn it!”

Violet’s laugh, while rare, is as bewitching as it is infectious. It’s been so long since Brody heard her laugh like this, and to know that they’re here together, comfortable together…

Emotion builds in her throat, and she has to eat berries to suppress it. She aims the blueberry just right, and Violet catches it this time. As she chews, they both let out victorious giggles.

Once the laughter dies down, Violet brings her knees to her chest as she watches the river.

“Think we’re missing out on a fish haul?” she asks.

“Nah,” Brody pulls the basket closer to look inside, biting her lip as she runs her fingers over the covered patch. “And if we are, I’m sure the traps’ll make up for it.”

Should she do it now? They did just get here, did she want to surprise her early, or…?

Brody grabs a flower instead, bringing it up to her nose to inhale the soft scent. An idea occurs to her as she admires the girl before. Scooping up the flowers, Brody breaks off most of the stems. The flower slips in through Violet’s hair, right where the hair tie is.

Violet jerks her head around to look back, but Brody says, “Don’t move.”

“What are you-?”

She doesn’t need to answer the question, she merely secures a few more flowers within the light strands of hair before leaning back to admire her work. She even tucks one behind her own ear so they match.

Violet remains quiet, but lays her hand on Brody's. A silent, content thank you.

Brody doesn’t know how long they sat there watching the river, sipping tea, and listening to the birds chirp from the trees . A small butterfly flutters by them, and for a moment, Brody forgets the world around them. Forgets the walkers, forgets Ericson, too swept up in the way the warm air blew against her skin, in how Violet’s hand felt in hers, and the strange sense of wonder, a desire to kick off her shoes and run through the river.

It took Violet kissing the back of her hand to break her out of it.

Violet grew sheepish, glancing away as if she needed to come up with an explanation for the kiss, and that was it.

“Vi,” she started, pulling her around to face her. “I have- I made ya somethin’.”

The nervous pounding in her chest thumps in her ears as she reached back into the basket, pulling out the pillowcase.

“Aw, from Lou’s stash,” Violet grins, amused. “You shouldn’t have.”

“No, no, not the pillowcase,” Brody fidgets with it until she finds what she’s looking for. Her thumb brushes over the flowers beneath the thin material. With a deep breath, she goes for it. “Listen, I’ve been thinkin’ a lot about you. Us... just everything, and- Remember that night we stayed up in the common room talkin’? I thought… well, I wanted to do this for you.”

Brody hands her the pillowcase. Not once does she take her eyes off Violet’s face, noting the curiosity and confusion playing in her features as she accepts the gift.

The eyepatch is finally brought out into the sunlight, laying in Violet’s palm.

Neither of them speaks. Violet’s lips part, eye widening.

Brody lets the air out of her lungs slow, and then the words spill from her lips before she can stop them.

“We couldn’t find you anything to wear other than that stupid costume patch, and I know you said you didn’t mind the bandages but then I got to thinkin’ ‘bout how bandages might not always be the comfiest-”

“Brody…” Violet’s voice is quiet, trembling as it breaks.

“-and I want you to be comfortable in somethin’ that you like, so I made this for you- the whole thing, hand sewed it myself. I- but y’know, if it’s maybe too much- I wasn’t sure if it might bring too much attention and you wouldn’t like that-”

She’s cut off when Violet practically throws herself at her, burying her face in the crook of Brody’s neck and holding her tight. Brody doesn’t hesitate. She embraces her back, pressing a hand to cradle her head.

“I… don’t know what to say,” Violet's voice quivers.

“You like it?”

“Yes.”

“Then that’s enough.”

Violet pulls back, and without warning, her hands cup Brody’s face. She presses their lips together in a way that’s anything but gentle. It’s firm, purposeful, and loving. All tension from her body melts away, and Brody truly believes she could kiss her all day and that tingle? The one that coursed through her veins, the butterflies that fluttered in her belly? It would never go away. It wouldn't even lessen.

They break apart, and Violet’s staring down at the eyepatch in her hands.

“Holy shit. It’s… I don’t-” she tries again. “You didn’t have to do this.”

“I wanted to,” Brody assures her, brushing the bangs that fell over her face.

“No one’s ever made me anything like this before. I mean, not a patch, just … you know.”

“Want to try it on?”

Violet nods, and Brody’s undoing the bandages with ease. Her eye's healed from the damage the raiders inflicted, leaving only angry scars. The patch is a perfect size, covering everything.

“Does it feel okay?”

“Yeah, it’s… nice. Soft.”

“Does this feel tight enough? Like it won’t fall off, but not too tight?”

“Yeah, it feels good.”

“Couldn’t figure out a good way to clasp it together, so it ties. If ya want me to change it or anything, I can make adjustments... There!”

Violet turns back around, avoiding her gaze. Brody studies her face, the way the colors of the embroidered flowers make the green in her other eye vibrant, how the taupe of the fabric flatters her.

“Beautiful.”

Violet scoffs, ducking her head to hide the flustered smile that betrays her lips. This gives Brody the perfect excuse to place a quick kiss on her forehead.

“You’re so mushy,” Violet says, embarrassed but trying to force a playful tone. “Y’know that?”

Well, to be fair, Brody could be mushier, so she replies with an over-the-top, sweet, “Only with you.”

Violet groans and they laugh once more.

They know their little picnic will wrap up soon, so together they sit close and enjoy the comfort of nature for a few minutes longer.

“Thank you, Brody… really.”

Brody responds with another kiss.

Yeah, she thinks. She could kiss Violet all day.

[robininthelabyrinth]

Would you write something where Jiang Fengmian is Wei Wixian's biological father because Wei Changze was a trans man?

ao3

The woman that men called Cangse Sanren, a title she accepted out of lack of anything better to use, had any number of suitors, but her favorite one was one that never formally approached her to state his suit – neither the one who scolded her because she broke all the rules, nor the one who idealized her for it, but the one who made her laugh about it.

His name was Wei Changze.

She could tell that he liked her from the way he blushed when she smiled at him, the way he tried to spend time with her whenever he could – often in the company of others, but not always.

“I think it’s time for me to get married,” she said to him as they walked along the waterfront. All her other suitors had been busy with work or play or other things; only Wei Changze had the time – or the strength of will – to abandon all of that to keep her company. She liked that, and knew herself to be a bit selfish that way; she was not willing to share her lover with anyone, least of all a sect.

Wei Changze’s eyes revealed the stab of misery, but he forced a smile on his face. “Congratulations,” he said. “The man you have chosen to wed must be a very lucky man indeed.”

“I think he is,” she agreed, and tucked her hand in his. “Would you like to visit the astrologer to pick a date, or shall I pick one for us?”

Wei Changze’s surprised face, she decided, was extremely charming.

He stuttered a great deal, tried to say some denial, but she would have none of it.

“You like me, don’t you?” she asked, and he affirmed. “Then marry me.”

“There are things you don’t know about me,” he said wretchedly. “I could never please you as a man should – we would never have children –”

“I feel moderately confident that pleasure will not be a problem,” she said. “And my fortune says that I will have both no children and several, which to me suggests adoption is a perfectly plausible future. Did you really think I would care that you bleed by the moon, as I do?”

Wei Changze looked startled, and she tapped her nose, reminding him of how well she could track blood during the night-hunts they went on together.

“So, with that aside, do you have any further objections?” she asked. “If not, let me know and I will catch a fish and use its bones to cast a fortune for us so that we may wed on an auspicious day, and then go travel the world with no one but ourselves and each other.”

She could see the yearning in his eyes, not only for her but for the life she described, and after some time he agreed.

Her other suitors were not pleased, and one most displeased of all – though she couldn’t really blame him, given that she was robbing him both of the woman he was chasing and the man he’d thought would be at his side forever.

She was very magnanimous about it. She didn’t even complain when Wei Changze showed up at her door, stinking of men and guilt and regrets.

“He was yours for a long time,” she said gently when her beloved tried, with tears in his eyes, to apologize for the transgression. “It is difficult to let go of the old ways, and accept the new. Consider it a gift of farewell to him, and a gift of new beginnings to me.”

“How can it be a gift to you?” Wei Changze asked, wiping his eyes and kissing her. “Forgive me. It will not happen again.”

She wasn’t sure why it wouldn’t be considered a gift to her, but it seemed rude to mention, and it wasn’t until months later that she learned that most people couldn’t tell so quickly that a child had caught.

“What did you think I meant?” she asked, puzzled, as he paced around the small room at the inn they had rented – they were far away from Yunmeng now, traveling together with no company beyond a donkey. “Anyway, you don’t need to worry. It’ll be an easy burden, an easy labor.”

“How can you tell?” he asked, diverted. “You didn’t even throw sticks or look at bones for that.”

She shrugged, unable to explain that he simply smelled healthy, and the baby quiet. “A quiet quickening makes for a loud baby,” she finally said. “We should be prepared for a troublemaker.”

“We should be prepared to return to Yunmeng! This child is the heir to Yunmeng Jiang!”

“No, he isn’t,” she said peaceably. “He’s our son.”

“Son – wait, a boy? Really? That’s wonderful…no, wait, that’s worse. You don’t understand. My lover – his position – our son is the eldest child of Yunmeng Jiang.”

“His sister is older.”

Wei Changze stopped pacing to stare at her.

“Didn’t you know?” she asked. “That’s why the spider of Meishan Yu is so desperate to wed him.”

Wei Changze sat down abruptly, the bed beneath him creaking in protest at the sudden weight. “He never said,” he said, sounding numb. “He never – I didn’t know. How old is the girl?”

“Nearly three.”

“Fuck.” A moment of silence. “If I’d known, I wouldn’t have – not even as a goodbye!”

“That’s probably why he didn’t say,” she said wisely. “At any rate, we’ve been gone for months – Sect Leader Jiang should have already accepted her suit, and she’s the one bearing the heir. A legitimate son always trumps one born out of marriage, that’s how humans do it – isn’t that right?”

“Yes, well done, correct description,” he said, still sounding stunned. “I guess you’re right…but he’ll guess, if he sees him. He’ll know.”

“So what? We won’t go back to Yunmeng. He won’t be able to do anything about it, no matter what he knows.”

“But – Yunmeng…” He fell silent for a moment. And then – “Can you read a fortune for the child?”

“This far before birth?” she asked, startled. “No. It’s bad luck. We don’t even know what their astrological signs will be.”

“Please,” Wei Changze said, and he’d really never asked her for anything before. “Please. I need to know. Yunmeng is my home; I need to know – what I’m giving up. If it’s worth it.”

She still thought it was a bad idea, but she rolled up her robes and waded into the river to catch a turtle using nothing but her bare hands, snapping its neck and putting it over a fire to read the cracks in its shell.

She frowned at what she saw.

“What is it?” Wei Changze asked. His arms were wrapped around his belly.

“The child will live, and shine like a star in the heavens,” she said. “A genius, for better or for worse.”

“That’s good, isn’t it?”

“Sometimes. Not always.” She shook her head with a sigh. “There’s bad news here, too. Tragedy.”

Death.

The child would save the world, one day, but the balance of all the heavens’ gifts was that he would grow up an orphan.

And after all that effort she’d put into making herself a happy life, and even finding herself just the right lover, too!

They spoke about it several times over, never quite rising to the level of a fight, and in the end Wei Changze agreed to keep the child and abandon Yunmeng, and to live out the few years they would have with the child in peace and joy. When they died, the child would go to Yunmeng, and be raised there.

It was what they agreed.

And yet –

The time came, and Wei Changze died first before the vicious beast’s claws, throw himself in its path to protect her, and she – she didn’t want to go. She liked her little Wei Ying, she liked her life, and, yes, she liked her lover, but her lover wasn’t everything, had never wanted to be everything, to be the sun and moon and stars for her until she could not live without him.

Something ruthless stirred in her bones. Something dark and selfish, vicious and mean, the same thing that had made her elder martial brother go mad, years before, and become a pestilence on the world.

She didn’t do that.

She just drew back her skin to show fang and claw, and she fought back, and she won.

“An orphan,” she murmured later, holding her little Wei Ying in her arms that were still splattered with the blood of her kill. “Raised without his parents…”

She shook her head.

There were as many ways to fulfill a fortune as there were to skin a cat.

“It had to be one of us,” she said in the direction of Yunmeng Jiang. She can’t quite bring herself to be apologetic about it. “And I picked you.”

At least the Violet Spider would make an excellent regent sect leader on behalf of her young son, after her husband died.

In fact, maybe she should go see her, when it was over.

She did always like good company.

[bnhabadass]

Pairing: Bakugo x Reader Warnings: N/A Word Count: 2108 Synopsis: When you fall ill one day, Bakugo’s usually gruff and distant personality becomes gentle to the touch as he takes care of you. A/N: This is my second submission for the @bnhabookclub​ bingo event! The link to my bingo master list is here, but you should also make sure to check out the other pieces bookclub members have written too!

In the three months you have been dating Bakugo Katsuki, you have never known him to be particularly affectionate. In fact, it sometimes seems like he’d rather stay as far away from you as possible.

You were the one to ask him out, and although he looked like he would rather jump off a cliff, with the bothersome encouragement from his friends, he begrudgingly agreed. On your first date, he barely spoke, let alone reach out to touch you. You thought your relationship would be over before it even began. But even after your awkward date, he asked you when you were free again.

Over time, Bakugo opened up to you little by little. While he kept his distance physically, he would check in with you between classes and sit next to you during lunch and breakfast. It was cute, how awkward he was around you. You were the only person who was ever able to fluster him, and his friends loved to tease him for it. Still, you wished that he was willing to reach a hand out for you to hold every so often.

What did it mean that he wouldn’t? Was he scared that you would hurt him if he did, or is it that he doesn’t think you’re good enough to be touched by his gruff and meticulous hands?

Three months into your relationship and the two of you still hadn’t kissed. Bakugo’s friends always bugged him about it. Out of all the things he tended to lose his head over, that was not one of them. Perhaps he’s matured or maybe he didn’t care as much as you hoped.

“So Bakugo,” Kaminari asked, sliding up to him at the table he was eating breakfast at. “Where’s the girlfriend this morning? Rough night? Is she sore from all of your–”

Bakugo cut him off with a loud blast to his face. He resumed eating as if it were nothing while Kaminari sat there, sputtering out a coughing fit.

“Hey, where is (Y/n)?” Kirishima asked, sitting down and patting Kaminari on the back. “She said she wasn’t feeling well during movie night last night so she went to bed early.”

Bakugo preferred not to indulge in his friends’ antics of staying up late eating junk food and watching movies so it was news to him that you weren’t feeling well. Looking around, he saw that you had not joined any of your peers for breakfast. An empty feeling washed over him at the realization of your lacking presence.

“I’ll go check on her,” he mumbled, figuring you would still be in your room. Walking up the stairs, he headed for the door labeled with your name. Gripping the door knob, he gently turned it and pushed the door open. The first thing he noticed was the lump under your covers that moved at the creaking sound of the door. “Oi, dumbass. Get up. We have class.”

You groaned, snuggling your head further into your pillow. You mumbled a few words that Bakugo couldn’t understand.

“What did you say?” It wasn’t like you to refuse to attend class or to sleep in longer than necessary, especially if you had gone to bed early the night before. Bakugo took a few steps toward you so he was standing right next to the head of your bed.

Peaking your head out from nuzzled inside the pillow, your watery, heavy eyes met his crimson ones.

His eyes widened at seeing your face, flushed with a cool layer of sweat coating it. Bits of your hair stuck to your forehead and cheeks. You looked like shit. “You’re sick aren’t you.”

“I’m not that sick,” you protested. Your achy joints struggled to push yourself up. You were stopped, however, when Bakugo placed his firm hand over your forehead. The feeling of his calloused hand pressing onto your sweaty forehead froze you in place. All you could breathe in was his caramel scent. You had never been this close to him before, and the realization made your face burn hotter than it already was.

“You have a fever,” he said, pulling his hand away. “Were you going to tell me?”

“It’s not that bad. I’ll email Aizawa Sensei, let him know I won’t be in class today. I just need a bit of rest and I’ll be fine.” You smiled up at your boyfriend, but the way your arms shook with chills told him you would need a lot more than a good night’s sleep to feel better.

“Bullshit,” Bakugo said. “You stay here, I’ll get you some medicine.”

As he turned to leave, you tried to stop him. “W-what? But Bakugo, you’ll be late to class.”

“I’m not going to class if you’re feeling this bad. You need someone to take care of you,” he said from the doorframe.

Before you could protest any further, he was already gone. Sighing, you cautiously lowered yourself back into bed and awaited his return.

“You know,” you said, thermometer in your mouth, “I can take care of myself.”

“And run around the dorms infecting everything you touch? I don’t think so.” Bakugo sat in your desk chair, arms folded across his chest as he waited for the thermometer to beep. When it did, he was swift to pull it out of your mouth. “Well at least it’s a low grade fever.” He set the stick on your desk and put a hand back over your forehead.

You hummed into the feeling of his fingers stroking across your hairline. “Yaoyorozu said she’d give us the homework,” you said, trying to find something, anything to talk about.

“Dumbass, you shouldn’t be worrying about that now.” Bakugo reached over to your desk and grabbed a glass of ice water he had set out before taking your temperature. He also set a few pills on your bedside table. “Take these. Your fever will go down.”

With half lidded eyes you smiled. “Thanks.” The pills were harder to swallow than others you’ve had to take in the past. You made awkward choking and gagging noises, which had Bakugo rolling his eyes.

“Do you want me to make you some tea?”

Smiling up at him with glassy eyes, you nodded. It was confusing why he had been acting so kind, almost paternal towards you in those moments, as if you were his child or someone he needed to protect. Someone he really cared about. His girlfriend.

You couldn’t help but smile as you thought back to the delicate touch he had when pushing strands of your hair back. You wanted to feel that touch again and you had a feeling that it would happen sooner rather than later.

Bakugo didn’t return until a good forty minutes had passed. While you appreciated everything he was doing for you, especially skipping class to make sure you were all right, you were slightly annoyed that he had not brought you your tea as he had promised.

You passed the time by scrolling through your social media, texting your friends to find out what you were missing in class, and playing a few rounds of whatever video game was currently in your console.

A small gasp escaped your sore throat when Bakugo emerged through your door holding a tray with tea, a bowl of soup, a box of tissues and more meds to keep your fever down.

“Here,” he shoved the tray in your hands, making you drop the controller so soup would not spill all over your comforter. “Fucking eat this.”

He sat back down at your desk chair and watched as you scooched up the bed and held the tray on your lap. Your hand tentatively reached for the large spoon next to the equally large bowl. It was weird. You’ve seen Bakugo cook. You’ve heard Kirishima go on about how great he is at making onigiri and stir fries, but it had never occurred to you to ask him to cook for you.

“Well what are you waiting for? Try the damn thing!”

Bakugo’s voice snapped you out of your daze. You dove the spoon in to scoop up the clear broth and one of the many carrots bobbing up and down in the bowl as if it was taking a nice long dip in the lazy river. Bringing the spoon to your nose, you breathed in. It smelled good, at least as well as it could with your nose being so stuffed.

You brought the spoon to your lips and the savory flavor instantly opened your tastebuds back up to the world. Your eyes widened and you couldn’t help but gawk at the steaming bowl in front of you.

“Well, how is it?” Bakugo mumbled under his breath. One of his hands was weaved in his hair, perhaps out of stress or nerves in seeing what you truly thought of his cooking. You’re not sure why he would be so nervous. Bakugo’s not the kind of guy to stress over something or to really feel nerves at all. He exudes confidence and that’s one of the many things you have always admired about him.

“It’s incredible.” You willed your tired and achy face to curve your lips into a smile. Your eyes never seemed to dull as you went on about the flavor and how all the spices blended together so perfectly.

“All right, all right I get it,” he said. “You don’t have to keep praising me. It’s not like I’m competing on Top Chef or anything.” Although he was telling you to stop it with the compliments you could tell that he was truly flattered.

You finished the soup, even picked it up to lick the bowl clean which was rewarded with a partially disgusted glare from Bakugo. You hadn’t forgotten about your tea either, drinking all of it and taking the second dose of medicine along with it. Being in Bakugo’s presence, you felt lighter and less ill.

“How are you feeling now?”

“Better,” you said, smiling up at him. “I think I’ll be well enough to go to class tomorrow.” But as if the universe was against you, you sneezed and a long strand of snot came down across your face.

“You’re disgusting.” There was a hint of a chuckle in Bakugo’s words as he handed you a few tissues from the box. “You should probably rest a bit. I’ll, I dunno, get out of your hair or whatever.”

“No, stay.” Your hand subconsciously reached out to grab his wrist as he stood up, but you pulled it back out of fear. Fear for what? Bakugo had been touching your forehead to take your temperature all day. He had barely left your side apart from leaving to make you soup and tea, so why did the touch of reaching out to him scare you so much?

Bakugo’s cheeks tinted pink as he felt his blood run cold. What was with you? Why were you acting this way?

There was an awkward silence between the two of you which lasted a few long, agonizing moments.

“Or not,” you broke the silence. “You can–”

“No I’ll stay.” Bakugo kept his eyes trained on the small rug covering the center of your room. “I’ll keep you company.”

A songbird-like laugh escaped your slightly chapped lips. Bakugo sat back down and although embarrassed, he still smiled at you.

Not much time had passed before you began to doze off into a light nap. Your head ached but you weren’t in enough discomfort to warrant staying awake.

In the time you and Bakugo spent together, you learned all sorts of things about him, that his parents are fashion designers, why he wants to be a hero. You even found out what his favorite flavor of mochi ice cream is.

As you talked more and learned more about each other, your longing for him to hold you deepened. The way his big arms gesticulated as he spoke made you wish they were wrapped around you. You wished he would genuinely laugh with you all the time, not just in this moment you two were alone. But it will all come in time, right? Maybe the next day when you’re less sick.

You could have sworn that as your heavy eyelids fell shut and you zoned in and out of consciousness, Bakugo stood up from your desk chair and placed a subtle kiss on your forehead. When he left your room, closing your door in the softest way possible so you would not stir awake, your eyes fluttered open and grin spread across your face.

Yeah, it will all come in time.