#why did this episode almost make me cry

[dropoutposts]

[sharp-tooths]

Thinking about the fact that Knives loved western movies as a kid and liked the idea of gunslingers and how after the crash he took the gun from a man he killed and gave it to vash, not only because he wanted his brother to protect himself and join him in killing humans, but because he thought gunslingers were cool. He gave Vash a gun cause he thought having his brother be a gunslinger on a desert planet would be cool. Just like a western movie.

Im dying

[many-gay-magpies]

[inkbybambi]

bodyguard!simon riley who takes a bullet for you —

words: 2.9k rating: e warnings: nightmares, guns/shooting, gunshot wound, hospitals, smut, creampie, cunnilingus, mentions of threats against reader, threat against reader, lowercase writing — please let me know if i missed any! notes: 18+ content, minors dni. warnings have been provided.

He's been assigned to you for two-ish years now. You weren't thrilled at first, and neither was he — but he didn't make it as obvious as you did.

"I don't need a babysitter," you had damn-near hissed when he was introduced.

"I wasn't hired to be one," he counters coolly, which only serves to irritate you further.

Actively ignoring his presence — as much as you could when your company moved him into your apartment — even though you begrudgingly made room in the counters and fridge for his things, even going as far as investing into a better kettle so he could make his tea and clearing out an entire cabinet for all his tea, sugar, and steeper.

He trails you quietly as he was hired to; keeping close enough to always have you in his sights but far enough away that people wouldn't be able to clock his association to you — or so he thought.

Six months into his contract with you — an unknown amount of time left, as Price never answered and soon he stopped asking — he wakes in the middle of the night from a scream he never thought would come from you.

He rushes to your bedroom, gun in hand with his finger resting on the side — not the trigger. The front door is locked as he had left it, windows unbroken. He almost thinks he might've associated it with one of his own nightmares, until he sees you.

Curled in on yourself, face tucked into your knees, fingers threaded at the nape of your neck as you struggle to breathe properly, hiccups and sobs breaking between your stuttered breaths.

He knocks gently on your door, not wanting to startle you. You jump a little, regardless, but lift your head to look at him.

"'m sorry," you mumble, voice rough, "I didn't mean to wake you."

And you hadn't. You thought you were done with these awful nightmares, the ones gnawing at the edges of your mind during the day.

"'S'alright," he replies, tucking the gun into the waistband of his sleep shorts, walking carefully towards your bed. "You okay?"

The look he receives damn near breaks his heart.

He learns, that night, that an attempt had been made on your life before. More than once.

They never got close enough to do any harm, you say, but then swallow thickly and clutch your bicep where Simon sees a scar that he never took notice of previously. They didn't get close enough to do anything worse, you amend, chancing a look at him.

"I had security then, too," you explain, wiping your tears with your hand, playing with the blanket. "It didn't change anything."

Something shifts after that.

He starts cooking for you — with you, when there's time — and you bring him a cup of tea each morning. The bookshelf in the living room, previously only half-filled, collects Simon's books. You give him the login to all your streaming services, and ignore the pointed look he gives you when he sees some trashy reality tv show in your continue to watch queue.

He doesn't complain much when he stands behind you during an episode, arms crossed, asking a question here and there. You sigh, exasperated at having to explain everything, telling him to sit down as you start the series from the beginning.

Nine months into his contract, your nightmares become more frequent, and worse. You don't understand why. You were getting better, you cry in Simon's arms after a particularly rough night.

"Sometimes these things happen," he tells you softly, gently petting your hair, tucking you under his chin.

"Make them stop, please," you beg, even though you know he can't. he wishes he could.

He starts sleeping in your bed.

He's so warm, your cheek pressed into his chest, feeling more secure than you have in months when the weight of his thick, tattooed arm slings around your waist. He presses a kiss to your forehead at night, and you burrow into his side.

He starts taking the balaclava off at night.

A morning where you blessedly don't have to be up early, grey clouds hang in the sky, the promise of a storm later.

"G'mornin'," he says, voice rough with sleep, feeling him flex and stretch beneath you, groaning as his body relaxes. A flash of heat snaps through you.

"Morning," you reply, only half-awake, tilting your head up to drag your lips across his jaw, prickling with stubble.

He cradles the back of your head, fingers thick and comforting, tilting you back until his mouth slants over yours. He holds you so carefully, like glass, as his tongue slips into your mouth, hot and heavy.

The sheets rustle as he moves to lay over you, free arm resting by your head as your legs hook on his hips, trying to draw him closer to you.

He nips at your bottom lip as he rolls his hips, the heat of his cock through his boxers frazzling your brain. You mewl, his tongue back in your mouth, moving his hand to grip your waist and drag you up against him, moaning low in his throat when he feels the wetness seeping through your panties.

"Fuck," you breathe out as his mouth moves over your cheek, down your jaw, kissing the sensitive skin behind your ear.

"Say please," he rumbles.

"Simon, please," you whine, fingers curling at the base of his skull and scratching, and he snarls against your skin, sinking his teeth into the side of your neck as he tears your panties off, pushing his boxers down enough to free his cock.

You're so wet for him, slick coating your thighs as he drags his cock through your folds.

He usually takes his time — using his fingers and tongue to open them up first, wanting to feel the wet heat of their cunt and the spurt of their release to know they're relaxed and ready for him. He eats pussy like he'll die if he doesn't, will happily spend hours between your legs if you let him.

But with you? He feels feral with need.

"It's big, sweet thing," he rasps into your skin, lips hovering over that sensitive spot on your neck that he sunk his teeth into earlier, notching the head of his cock at your entrance. He's not trying to brag, it's just a fact.

You claw at him, the sting of open scratches burning his skin so pleasantly.

"It's okay, don't care," you pant, gripping him hard enough to leave deep crescent marks in his skin, angling your hips up to draw him into your cunt yourself.

He grips your hips with both hands, slowly pushing his thick length into you, nails digging even deeper the more he pushes in.

"Feels so fucking good," he says, tongue laving over your throat to collect the thin sheen of sweat that coats your skin. "Could fuck you forever," he groans, your breath hitching.

You make a strangled noise low in your throat. It's been awhile since you've fucked anyone, and you've never fucked anyone as big as him before.

The stretch feels so good, though. Your cunt clenches around him as he sinks in deeper, mind glazing over as you focus only on him.

"Fuck," he whines when he finally seats himself fully into you, nuzzling into your neck, overwhelmed by the heat and slick, "good fucking girl, taking me so well."

He swallows thickly, waiting a couple heartbeats to enjoy this — it's been awhile for him, too.

"Think you can take it, love?" and his fucking voice. You would agree to do anything as long as you could hear that rough accent along your throat, teeth skimming your skin.

"Yes," you breathe out harshly, moving to wrap your arms around his shoulders, needing him close, close, closer.

For a man of few words, Simon has a filthy mouth as he fucks into you, accompanied by groans and growls into your collar.

"Never had a cunt this perfect." "Fuckin' made for me." "Can't wait to get my tongue in you, feel you cum on my face." "No one else can have you." "You're mine."

And you, normally far more verbal than him, are reduced to nothing more than mewls and pleas and moans for more.

You mouth and nip at his jaw when you can, wanting to mark him, wanting to stake your claim. You'll be his forever if he lets you, but you'll be damned if anyone else gets to have him either.

"Simon — " is the only warning you give before you cum on his cock, head thrown back as you moan through the waves of pleasure, release coating his length and thighs.

"That's it, baby, good girl, give it to me," he says, blunt nails digging into your waist as he grinds himself deep into you. You feel so warm and pliant, the pleasure numbing your mind as he rocks himself into you.

"Wanna feel you give me one more, angel," he bites at your throat on the other side, his need to sink his teeth into every inch of your skin overwhelming. He hooks your legs over his shoulders, fucking into you deeper, hitting that spot inside you that has you seeing stars and your toes curling.

You grip at him again, clawing as he fucks into you, the sound of your wet cunt taking each thrust creating a symphony with his groans and your cries. He feels so fucking good, splitting you open and making you whole, desperate for him to cum inside.

The way your nails dig into his shoulder is the sign that you're getting close, and he thrusts just a little harder, a little meaner, your cute whines growing more desperate as you walk the precipice of another orgasm.

No one's ever made you cum more than once — sometimes, not even once — and you've never been able to do it yourself either.

Simon? Fucks a second orgasm out of you like it's his life mission, ankles tightening around his neck as pleasure lines your veins, shaking as he continues to hit that spot inside you as you cum, prolonging it as much as he can.

"Baby — " he chokes out, sharp teeth on your shoulder, thrusts getting sloppy. The slick of your two releases sounds so loud in your bedroom, feeling the desperation as he thrusts, deeper, harder.

"Cum inside," you mumble against his cheek, nails scratching at the base of his skull as he thrusts once, twice, three times — the warmth of his release flooding your cunt.

He fists the sheets in one hand, nails dragging down your thigh as he pumps deep into you, your slick and his release seeping out of your hole, dripping down his balls and your asshole.

You stay like that, lips brushing, breathing in each other's air as you slowly come down from the high.

Simon gently — so gently — lowers your legs, carefully watching your face for any signs of discomfort, settling them on his hips, hands moving up and down your thighs. "Y'alright?" he asks. You swallow thickly and nod, both hands now at the base of his skull, affectionately scratching at the nape of his neck.

He slowly pulls out, and you miss the stretch and the warmth immediately. You push up on your elbows, watching as the mixture of your pleasure leaks out of you, biting you lip.

"Fuckin' beautiful," he says almost reverently, mesmerized.

He spends the next hour cleaning you up, and you think your nails create permanent marks on his shoulders.

Time bleeds together.

His contract renews on the twelfth month.

He heard rumors that Price might switch him out for another guard.

You're at the meeting — it's your bodyguard, after all, they figure you should get some input. Price has two separate folders prepared. A sharp look from Simon is all Price needed to know about how he feels. The tongue lashing you give your higher ups has Price raising his eyebrows, and Simon sits forward a little more should he need to haul you out over his shoulder.

He wouldn't mind that too much, he thinks, but he'd rather not.

Ten minutes later and you're angrily signing his renewal papers, a blotch of ink at the start of your name as you didn't even read the contract before signing, lungs burning from your rant about personal safety and what the fuck are you thinking and I didn't just buy an entirely new tea set for nothing.

You grip his wrist as soon as he signs himself, dragging him to the nearest bathroom.

His hand covers your mouth as he fucks you deep and slow.

"Don't worry, darling, 'm not going anywhere."

Eighteen months into his contract, and he's never felt so little control before in his life.

He's meticulous, prepared, tactile.

There's a gun in his holster for distance threats and a knife in his sheath for those who dare get too close.

He makes sure to memorize the exists before you even get to the venue, now making no effort to conceal himself.

He's like a shadow, or a guard dog.

You've never felt more secure, more protected.

Until —

He doesn't know how it slipped past him.

He let his eyes linger a little too long on the curve of your neck, where a new diamond pendant lay with his initial engraved on the back. He admires the dip of the dress you wear, open-back that shows the enticing expanse of your back, the dress covering you above the curve of your ass. You look back at him briefly while whomever you're with speaks, eyes sparkling in the bright light of the room, a smile reserved just for him.

He hears the cock of a hammer and his eyes snap to a gentleman who brandishes a gun like he's never held one before in his life. His eyes, though. His eyes are like fire, black with rage, staring at you with such hatred.

You look one second too late.

Simon is on you right after the click of the trigger, pushing you to the floor and caging you with his body.

"Stay down and don't fucking move," he growls as he reaches for his own weapon, up in a flash.

You can't hear anything except white noise and screams that sound muffled, heart pounding and making it hard to breathe. Two shots ring out, in tandem, and there's the telltale sign of a body hitting the floor.

Simon is by your side, eyes scanning, frantic, looking for any signs of harm.

"You okay?" he asks, carefully outstretching his hands to let you stop him from touching you should you want. you don't.

"Fine," your voice cracks, and you can't stop shaking.

"You're okay, you're okay," he says, cradling your cheeks, thumbs wiping under your eyes. "I'm so fucking sorry," he adds, guilt heavy in his chest.

You grab his wrists lightly, tears streaming down your cheeks as you look him over. You gasp, unable to catch a real breath, unable to look away from his stomach.

"Simon — " you say, horror laced in your voice.

He looks down, seeing the red seep through his shirt.

Fuck.

At least it wasn't you, he tells himself.

Nineteen months into his contract, and he isn't dead.

While he's been shot before — a fact he tells you, assuming it would comfort you, but only got him a venomous glare in return — it's been awhile.

The hospital, the stitches, the gauze and needles. He hated it then and he hates it now.

Price comes to you in the hospital — they're keeping Simon for a little, to make sure there's no complications with his healing — offering another guard in the interim while he recovers.

You've never shot down a proposal so quickly in your life. The nerve.

Twenty-two months into his contract, and the last of the moving boxes are taped shut and labeled. Some of them in your writing, the others in his. The keys to your new house are tucked into his pocket, alongside a black velvet box.

"Why do we have so much shit," you whine when packing, only two boxes deep and so many rooms left to go. You're too busy stuffing a manatee shaped steeper into a box — mana-tea, you giggled when he opened it, him rolling his eyes fondly in reply — and don't see him pause, looking at you softer, never hearing "we" before like that. Never dreaming he could hear it like that.

A lot of stalling on your part and encouragement on his, and the last box is packed and placed in the back of the truck.

He laces your fingers together as you drive to the new house, a bottle of champagne already chilled.

Twenty four months into his contract, and you come home with something hidden behind your back.

You smile like you have a secret, which would be a first.

It's awkward to bring around from your back, but there's a large German Shepard puppy wiggling in your grip, tail wagging furiously.

He feels his heart stop for a moment, unable to take his eyes off the puppy, and then the band that's sitting around your finger. He touches his own subconsciously.

You set the ball of fur down, who immediately launches at Simon, whining and wiggling and trying to give him kisses.

There's a collar and tag already there, and you watch with your heart beating faster than ever, unable to stop the smile on your lips, as he wrangles the pup enough to read it.

Riley.

[borathae]

Grief is a funny thing

"Grief is a funny thing. You think that you got over it until you are sitting on a random bench, on a random Monday night and it comes back to remind you that it will always be part of you."

Pairing: CEO!Jungkook x f.Reader

Genre: Angst, married life!AU, Hurt & Comfort

Warnings: OC graduated yaay!!, but it brings up old memories for her and she is in a state of guilt & grief, talk about loss of family and grief that won't leave, tears, but Jungkook is there for her and he is such a comfort, i love him a lot

Wordcount: 2.1k

a/n: sometimes i have the desire to write something angsty for the aaol!couple. listennn, i reread some of the main chapters again and i wanted to write something about OC's grief over her brother and how Kook handles her grief episodes. soo that's why this was created <3

You graduated. You actually did it. You are officially a person with a masters degree. You are something. The degree is at home where you left it. On the living room coffee table next to an empty glass of water. 

You can’t look at it.  

Nobody would get you if you told them that you don’t want to look at it, because it’s insane. You are aware of it. For years, all you dreamt of was being something one day. And then it happened and you were able to pursue your dream education and to graduate. You literally fulfilled your biggest dream, it should make you happy and it does, but it also doesn’t. Deep down in your heart you know the reason for it, but you aren’t ready to admit it to yourself yet. It would make you cry. You hate crying for negative reasons.

Your phone rings. This is the third time it does and you know that you can’t ignore whoever is calling you any longer. 

Your heart stings when you check their ID. 

Your Jungkookie is calling. You pick up, feeling guilty as you do. 

“Yes?”

“Oh my god, finally. Thank god. Where are you? I’ve been trying to reach you for what feels like hours. Are you okay?” Jungkook sounds distressed on the other side of the line. Understandably. It is currently one in the morning and you left without warning. 

“I’m okay, just went for a walk.”

“At one in the morning?” he sounds confused. Understandably so. You are normally sleeping at this time of day. 

“Yeah, well. Yeah, I guess.”

“It’s pouring buckets right now.”

“I guess it is.”

Silence on his side where he clearly tries to process what you are saying. 

“Where are you? I’m coming to pick you up”, he says in the end.

“Paradis. The bench in front of it.”

Another silence. Understandably. You never went back there again after quitting your job.

“Just…just stay there. I’ll be quick”, Jungkook tries to sound neutral, but the anxiety is clear in his voice.

“Yeah, okay.”

“I adore you.”

“I adore you too.”

The call ends. You shove the phone back into your jacket pocket and continue to stare at the sign while the rain pours down on you. Jungkook doesn’t need to worry. You weren’t planning on leaving this bench for quite a while. All of this studying about how to help people and you feel helpless. It almost paralyzes you and makes time pass in a blur.

Jungkook runs to get to you, getting wet even under the umbrella as the water slaps against him. He calls out your name. You turn your head slowly, looking at him with tired, empty eyes. 

“Oh my god, my love. You scared me so much. Why would you leave without saying anything?” he says, falling around your neck to hug you against him. 

Your body falls into him. He is warm and his hug is tight. He cradles the back of your head, twisting parts of your jacket with his other hand. 

“You made me worry like crazy. Please don’t ever do this again”, he says between little kisses all over your face and head.

“I’m sorry.” 

“Apology accepted, my love. Just tell me what’s wrong, please.” 

Now that he is with you and you are in his arms, the state of you is so clear to you. 

“I’m really cold.” 

“No wonder. It’s fucking November and you’re sitting here getting drenched.” He says, trying to warm you by rubbing your back. ��Come on, let’s go home.”

“Yeah. Okay.”

You let him help you to your feet. You hook arms with him, hugging his arm with both hands. You even go as far as to rest your head against it. Jungkook holds the umbrella even though you and he are already soaked to the bones. 

“You’re worrying me, my love. What’s the matter?” he asks.

You and he walk back to his car at a slow pace.

“I don’t know”, you say.

“Why did you come here? Out of all the places?”

“I don’t know. I was at my old place too. It’s a storehouse for the restaurant these days.”

“Yeah? Well, I don’t really get why you’re here and what you’re doing. I’m sorry.” 

“I can’t look at it.”

“Look at what?”

“My masters.”

Silence. You can watch him as he processes what you said. You can also see how he is trying so hard to be supportive.

“Please don’t take it the wrong way, but why? I’m not judging, just having a hard time understanding this correctly.”

You cuddle closer. He always knows exactly what to say. It feels reassuring when he is honest. He might not understand, but he wants to. This is what unconditional love feels like. 

“Whenever I look at it, I feel sick. I fulfilled my biggest dream and I’m happy, but I also feel lost.”

“I see. Now I understand. It’s scary knowing that something as big as college is over, but didn’t you play with the idea of doing your PhDs too?”

“Yeah, I did.”

“See? It’s not over yet if you want to. You have all the choices in the world. You can open your praxis or pursue your doctor’s degree. You have all the possibilities in the world. I’ll support you in any of them.” 

“I guess.”

“Unless that’s what you’re lost with. Do you struggle with deciding?”

“I struggle with accepting the reality that I am something.”

“No, my love”, he gasps.

“I feel unworthy of it. I had this life”, you say, gesturing at the general direction of Paradis. “And now I have a Masters in psychology with chances of becoming a fucking doctor. It’s insane. I shouldn’t have this.”

“Yes, you should”, Jungkook insists loudly, furrowing his brows, “you worked so hard for it. I had to carry you to bed sometimes when you fell asleep by your desk because you were so exhausted from studying. Remember?” 

“Yeah.”

“See? You literally worked your ass off for it. You should have it, for fuck’s sake. You wanted it for years and I won’t let you feel like this now.” 

You and he stop in front of his car. He shakes you by your shoulders gently as if to shake you awake from your self-deprecating nightmare. 

“You’re intelligent, resourceful and hardworking, ambitious and resilient and you got your degree because of that. You are amazing and you worked hard for it. You deserve it.” 

You nod your head, but say nothing to it.

“Okay, my love?”

He looks at you. You look at your feet.

“Okay, my love?” he stresses, caressing your cheek gently.

“Jungkook, I miss my brother”, you confess what truly hurts so bad, instantly breaking into tears.

“Oh ___ my love, I’m sorry. Come here”, Jungkook gasps, wrapping his unoccupied arm around you.

You melt into his chest, sobbing into it while he holds you and comforts you. 

“He and I, we always fantasised about how it would be to become something. He always talked about sending me off to college one day. But he’s dead and he won’t ever see that I actually did it. He’s dead. Why is he fucking dead?”

“Oh my love. I’m sorry. Life is so unfair”, Jungkook gets out, crying with you.

“It hurts so bad. He was supposed to see me off to college and, and see me graduate.”

“He was. He really was”, Jungkook agrees, sobbing afterwards which gives you so much comfort. It feels so reassuring and comforting so cry with him. You don’t even mind crying for negative reasons when he is with you. 

“I feel so guilty. He was supposed to escape this life with me. We were supposed to get healthy and be happy.”

“You were, my love. But it’s not your fault. He wouldn’t want you to feel guilty for changing your life for the better.”

“I know, but it still hurts.”

You look up at Jungkook, spilling tears. He does as well, cradling your cheek.

“He was supposed to know you. He was supposed to walk me down the aisle and, and be happy for me because I fell in love with someone like you.”

Jungkook smiles, sniffling. 

“He was supposed to be there on my happiest days. Why did he have to die?”

“I don’t know and it’s so unfair.”

“It is. He, he was supposed to be there for me on those days. He was…” A sob interrupts you. Jungkook soothes it with gentle touches to your arms. “It hurts so much to know that he won’t ever see who I became. I will always stay this little, drug addicted orphan girl to him. It hurts so bad that I never became someone different to him.”

“No, my love no. I’m sure that his spirit is still somewhere out there and he watched you grow up and become who you are today, my love.”

“Do you really think that?” you ask, looking at him with child-like hopefulness in your eyes.

“I do. I’m sure he is currently looking down at you and he feels proud and happy.”

“I hope so”, you say and lower your head. Tears drip down from your cheeks. “Urgh god, I hate crying”, you get out, wiping at your own face aggressively.

“Hey no.” Jungkook stops you gently. “Don’t. You’ll hurt yourself.”

You look up at him while he holds your hands. He caresses your chin with the same hand, using his thumb for it.

“Let’s go home, okay?” he suggests in a soft voice. 

You nod your head.  

“Come on, I’ll drive.” 

You let him help you into the car. You stare outside as he drives off and you continue to stare outside as he drives through the city. It’s late and it's raining, which means that the streets are almost empty for a change. Jungkook doesn’t have the radio on. The purring of the car and the rain against the window are all the noises you hear. He has his hand on your thigh, giving you constant rubs of comfort. It’s warm and it’s nice.

You and he drove for a while when you break the silence.

“I’m sorry.”

He glances at you.

“For what?”

“For running off without warning. For being so ungrateful for my masters. For dumping all of my stuff on you.”

“I’m not even gonna play into this right now because there’s nothing for you to be sorry for”, Jungkook answers you with slight anger in his voice. He isn’t angry at you, but your self-deprecating use of words.

You hold his hand.

“I’m just so messy and you’re so good”, you confess. 

“You’re tired and you’re exhausted. Today was a very overwhelming day. Don’t believe your thoughts anymore, my love.”

You and he stop at a red light. 

“You love me, right?”

Jungkook instantly leans over to kiss you. First your lips, then your forehead.

“I love you so much”, he whispers, cradling your cheek and gazing deep into your eyes. “I love everything about you, even the messiest and darkest parts. I always have and always will.” 

You can’t bear to look into his eyes anymore, lowering your head shyly. The red light switches from red to green back to red again in the time you and he sit in the car and let his words sink in. The rain sounds calming as it hits the car. 

“What are you thinking right now?” he asks in a quiet, gentle voice. 

“A lot. Grief and guilt and, and… I guess, I’m thinking that I don’t feel overwhelmed anymore now that I talked about it with you.” 

“Yes? This makes me happy to hear. I’ll always be there for you. And I’ll always come and get you from wherever you run off to.” 

He makes you laugh. Jungkook laughs with you, kissing your forehead. The light switches to green. He takes this chance and drives off, holding your hand as he does.

“Jungkook, I wanna take a shower and then talk in bed”, you tell him.

“That sounds good. We’ll shower and then we’ll cuddle and you can tell me all about your brother.”

“But I already told you everything.”

“And? It won’t ever be boring to me.” 

“Oh.” 

A deep breath fills your lungs and as it leaves you again, you feel lighter. You rest your head against the window, looking at him. The rainy night city passes him, the changing lights paint the prettiest of artworks onto his face.

“You’re the best goddamn thing that ever happened to me.”

Jungkook squeezes your hand because that is all he can do right now in fear of looking away from traffic for too long.

“I can say the same about you, my love.”

[rrxnjun]

where do broken hearts go? [lmk]

you know what they say about past lovers that can remain just as friends - either they're still in love with each other, or they never were in the first place.

pairing: mark lee x fem! reader

genre: exes to lovers. angst, fluff.

wc: 12k (11.926)

warnings: mention of sex, weed and alcohol, heartbreak, swearing, park jihoon of treasure is one sassy bitch and also accidentally somehow the main character of this fanfic plz dont @ me, inconsistent writing style bc i took 3 months and 3 depressive episodes to finish this fic

playlist: where do broken hearts go - one direction / too good to say goodbye - bruno mars / everytime - ariana grande / closer - waterparks / tornado warnings - sabrina carpenter / survive the night - the boyz

a/n: hey do some of you still remember me..... AHAHA tell a friend to tell a friend rrxnjun is BACK! this fic isn't the ideal vision i had in my mind but we are working on not being so hard on ourselves with our writing so! here we are. i still kind of like it :,)

When you walk up to your best friend’s apartment one day with a tub of ice cream under your arm and the biggest pout on your face, Park Jihoon makes a complete list of things you should do to get over your failed relationship with Mark Lee. And while you think your dear friend has some psychopathic tendencies sometimes, you’d say the list is actually pretty reasonable of him. 

There’s something about the five simple steps that makes you wonder if it’s really as easy as Jihoon makes it sound. And while you doubt it– because the pinging pain in your heart makes it seem like the heartbreak is truly going to kill you in a few minutes if you don’t do something about it– you give it a try, because come on… you’d do anything to not feel like this ever again.

Step one – cry it out.

“He was a cunt anyway,” Jihoon mutters as he steps into the living room with two spoons in his hands, throwing one of them to you– while almost managing to hit you in the middle of your forehead in the process, adding a concussion to the mix of problems you have going on right now– and you find yourself furrowing your brows at his hateful comment.

“Why’d you say that?”

“Well, as your best friend, I’m supposed to be on your side, no?” he says as he takes a seat on the sofa next to you, watching as you wrap one of the thick blankets you got for the male around your figure– you bought it mainly for yourself, because his apartment is cold as a freezer and you knew he wouldn’t buy one for you to use in the first place– and shrugs. “Besides, he broke your heart, and any male who does that is a cunt in my eyes.”

“I broke up with him,” you mourn, “so I broke my own heart,” you snicker, despair fully filling you up from the inside– fitting everywhere into your lungs and choking you up from how bad you truly feel. Now, this isn’t your first breakup– you’ve had your fair share of boyfriends in high school (in your baddie era, as Jihoon called it), but Choi Yeonjun from Maths class and Jung Woonyoung, the guy you dated for a total of 2 months over the summer break before he moved away, weren’t exactly boys you found yourself falling in love with. Sure, you liked them, you kissed them and went on dates with them– hell, you even hooked up with Yeonjun once before you realized the relationship truly wasn’t for you– but no one managed to cave into your heart just as much as Mark Lee, your first college boyfriend did.

“But you sure had a reason for it, come on!” Jihoon huffs, taking the tub of ice cream from your hands and opening it for you, since you’ve gotten quite weak from the lack of sleep and nutritions ever since the break up, hands clammy and not cooperating. “You don’t just break up with someone to break your own heart. He did that, that’s why you said goodbye to him,” he says before sitting the enormous tub of ice cream between your two bodies, nudging you to dig into the frozen delicacy.

“Yeah, but–”

“No buts, young lady. We are here to make you forget you ever even dated Mark Lee, so open up, eat the ice cream and focus your attention on Titanic so you can finally cry it out,” he says, and by the tone of his voice, you’d think he’s angry with you. Jihoon has this aura around him that makes you think he’s always at least a little annoyed at everything– but he told you to not mind it and that it’s just his sassy bitch attitude. 

He does have a point, though. You broke up with Mark because he broke your heart first– there was no other reason for it. If it was something minor, something small, you were sure you could work on it. You have, numerous of times before, brought up something and had a mature conversation about it– something you always so admired about Mark, being so cautious and understanding when navigating problems in the relationship– but when you bring up the same thing over and over, and it never gets fixed despite him telling you he’ll try harder next time, you think you’re allowed to feel a little heartbroken at his nonexistent efforts. And that’s exactly why you decided to quit the relationship– after a while, you felt like you were putting in more effort than he was, effectively making you feel like he’s not even that interested in dating you in the first place.

First, he just told you he was forgetful. He forgot he promised to pick you up from class one day– and you said that it’s okay, he is busy, after all– and it was the first time it happened, so you didn’t really mind that much, truly. Then, he forgot about the date you scheduled– but it was fine, because you didn’t have reservations anyway, you could change the day to any other day of the week, after all. He kept forgetting the stuff you told him in between the conversations you shared– and it was small things, you understand, but sometimes, you wondered if he was ever really listening to you at all. 

Forgetful soon turns not interested in your eyes, and when he doesn’t call you in the evening like he promised he would, when he doesn’t show up to the party you invited him to, because he forgot it was that day, you’re one step closer to calling it quits, because each and every one of these situations sends a sharp pain into your stomach. The last straw was just last week, though– and realistically, it was an important day, as much that you thought the day is somehow gonna fix everything, but the truth is somewhere completely else as Mark Lee forgets about your one year anniversary and never shows up at your doorstep for the dinner you prepared for the two of you like he promised he would. 

And it doesn’t click in him two days after either– you don’t even get a text. He got so forgetful over time that he forgot about you completely, and that’s when you took an uber to his place and broke up with him for good.

And even though the breakup was the most painful thing you’ve ever felt yourself go through, Jihoon is right– you’re not the one that broke your own heart. Mark Lee did that for you many times before, and this was just the breaking point.

“Fucking hell, you bought cookies and cream again?” Jihoon huffs when he takes another spoonful of the ice cream into his mouth, eyebrows furrowing at the sweet taste. Looking at him from the corner of your eye, you wipe your left cheek as you hum, immune to his nagging by now.

“You know I hate cookies and cream!”

“You know, Hoon, I bought this for myself. When you’re the one that’s heartbroken, we’ll share your favorite ice cream flavor instead,” you mumble, munching on the coldness on your tongue, sniffling a little when your eyes avert to the TV screen.

And after that, the teasing from your best friend’s side stops. Maybe it’s just because he hates to see you cry– and he rarely gets the chance, if you’re being honest, since you’re pretty good at handling your emotions– but you secretly know that it’s because when he looks back at the TV screen in front of the two of you, the sad part of the movie hasn’t even started yet and the tears are not the result of the movie, but of your own thoughts instead.

Step two – give him back all of his stuff and the stuff he’s given you that reminds you of him. Demand that he does the same.

Now, step two was a thing most couples do when they break up. Realistically, it makes sense– you wouldn’t want stuff that’s not yours just laying around, and also, it’s just bound to remind you of the person you lost. Naturally, you’d want to return it.

“Why does he have to return my things as well?” you mutter under your breath as Jihoon helps you fold all Mark’s hoodies into a cardboard box, alongside with wrapping the little things your ex boyfriend made out of ceramic for you in tissue paper like you asked him to– even though he complained and said that it shouldn’t matter to you if they break, because you are the heartbroken one– but you held those little things too close to your heart to let them get damaged in the first place.

“Because that’s how it works,” Jihoon hums, watching as you throw another one of Mark’s shirts onto the top of his head, shielding his vision. “What, you don’t want your stuff back?”

“I mean…” you mumble, deeply considering of the fact that the thought of getting your stuff back didn’t even cross your mind until now, before you realize your favorite pair of socks is thrown somewhere in Mark’s drawers– the blue ones with peaches on them– and you suddenly have the revelation that while you don’t necessarily need the stuff back, you’d love to wear those socks again. “I guess…” you note as you walk over to Jihoon and take a glance into the full cardboard box, looking over the stuff and chewing on the inside of your cheek.

“It’s like witchcraft, y’know,” Jihoon points out, looking at you with fierce eyes mirroring the stupid idea that just flashed through his brain, “if you don’t exchange the things, a piece of you is still kept at his apartment and you won’t be able to move on.”

And again, Park Jihoon does have psychopathic tendencies, but he may be onto something here. So you listen to him as you nod along and close the cardboard box, ready to drive over to Mark Lee’s apartment and drop off the things you’ve collected from him for the past year. The box includes all of the clothes messily scattered across your drawers and your closet, the picture frame of you two together that you always had on your night stand, the ceramic bowls and a little tiger sculpture he made for you when he took a pottery class with his friend Renjun, and the lost guitar pics you found under your bed and at the very top of your bookshelf from when he used to bring his guitar along and play you songs on rainy afternoons. The only things of Mark’s that you kept were the love letter he gave you for your birthday and the USB with his cover of Justin Bieber’s Off my face on it that he shyly gifted to you on one of your dates; but you would never tell Jihoon that in fear of him getting rid of those most precious memories for you.

It’s good to let go, but you don’t think you’re wrong for wanting to keep something to remind you of the good times. The times you still felt loved by Mark.

“Off we go,” you say, standing up and bringing the box towards your front door, your best friend at your feet. He promised to drive you to Mark’s place– you think he’s worried about you meeting your ex-boyfriend face to face for the first time since the break up, but he said it’s because you’re too broke to Uber all the time, efficiently throwing all the considerate thoughts you were accrediting him out the window– and after a few minutes of the drive, you find yourself standing on the doorstep of Mark Lee's apartment.

Taking a deep breath in and out, almost chickening out with the flood of thoughts and excuses you could say to Jihoon when you come back to his car with the box still in your hands– sayings like “he wasn’t home” or “he didn’t want those back”, the latter stupider than the first– you decide to face your problems head-on and finally knock on the mahogany door, waiting for Mark to answer. And he does– of course he does, because he’s always home, and as his ex-girlfriend of one year, you're painfully aware of the fact– but when that happens, you feel your heart falling all the way down to your stomach, crushing you and suddenly making it hard for you to breathe. 

“Um… hi,” he greets you, voice a little groggy, as if he hasn’t spoken in a while– and when you meet his eyes, the deep chocolate orbs you always found yourself admiring and writing silent odes to in your head, you quickly glance away in fear of staring into them for too long and making decisions you wouldn’t like to make.

“Hi,” you awkwardly greet back, clearing your throat and moving a little in your place, shifting the weight from one foot to the other. You're surprised you're able to keep up with the conversation, thoughts running in your brain faster than you can comprehend them, heartbeat ringing in your ears from the unexpected anxiety. Maybe Jihoon was right and you should've taken a shot before coming here– at least you'd have more courage and social skills clearly needed for this kind of interaction. “I… brought you back your things,” you say, finally looking up at the male and chewing on your lips, letting out an awkward, tense laugh when he stares at you with an empty look, “figured you’d want them back,” you add, watching as the male opens his mouth and closes it in what seems to be shock before he presses his lips tightly together and nods at you.

“Uh, yeah,” he says, scratching the back of his neck awkwardly as he watches you clumsily hold up the cardboard box to him, ready to leave his stuff there with him and escape as fast as you can, not really minding how you'll get back to Jihoon's car– if jumping down the window of the entrance hall is the fastest option, you're ready to get to it. The truth is, everything is starting to get a little too hard to bear– his familiar scent filling your nose, the hoodie he wore to your first date enveloping his figure, his messy hair reminding you of the many times you brushed your fingers through it in attempts to smooth it down. It’s only been two weeks since you last saw him, but it was starting to feel as if you forgot about him already and were now relearning all the things you once fell in love with again, looking at him in the same light, yet noticing him and all the small details a little bit differently. “Thanks, I… I actually, uh… I have your stuff here too, so if you want it back I’ll– I can just–”

“Y-yeah,” you nod, almost a little too eagerly, “that would be… cool,” you say, trying hard to ignore the fact that he had your stuff packed too, intending to give it to you, and the crashing reality that comes with it, telling you he was prepared to do this before you were and how it’s making you feel kind of shitty.

Mark moves further into the apartment, the sound of him dropping the box to the floor filling your ears before he’s back at the door in no time, a similar cardboard box in his hands that he offers to you with a tense smile on his face. “Wanted to bring it around so I had an excuse to see you, but you, uh… beat me to it, I guess…” 

Looking at him as you take the box out of his hands, gaze as if to tell him not to say such words to you when you’re still so fragile to his effect, you only nod and mutter out a simple “Thanks,” before you turn on your heel and intend to take the stairs back down.

“I’ll… see you around, then?” Mark calls after you as you take the first step out– something about it making you feel like it’s the first step out of his life, in a way– and you only nod, because one, you truly don’t know how else to reply to this question, and two, you really, really don’t know if you’ll ever see him again, but you can't bring yourself to say it to his face. Somehow, it would feel like torture to admit it– and you're not prepared for that reality just yet.

Rushing outside and getting into Jihoon's car, you almost feel like you’re on the verge of breaking, and when the male asks you how it went as he’s reversing out of the parking lot, you only bid him a one-word reply before you look through the box on your way home, too impatient to stay back from the memories.

And Jihoon didn’t really think this one through, because the fact that you gave Mark back the things that reminded you of him meant that he did the same, and now all the things you brought along to Mark’s apartment were in the cardboard box, all stained with countless memories and feelings attached to each and every single thing. The artwork you made for him, the little heart-shaped keychain you gave him for his birthday, the plant you gave him that was now long dead and dried out– those were once your stuff, but all in this world with the intention of love being sent out through them to your now ex-lover, and the fact that they’re in your possession again instead of his is not making letting go of Mark any easier. 

And maybe Mark was right and he truly was forgetful, because as you rummage through the contains of the box, while you find out your favorite blue socks are nowhere to be seen, surely still buried somewhere in the drawers of his closet, obliterated out of his memory, there’s a gray hoodie sitting at the bottom and it’s surely not yours– it’s his and it was always your favorite, and you always used to wear it at his place when you got cold or when you just really wanted to smell his cologne, and you suddenly don't know if it's presence in the box slipped his mind or if he truly left it there on purpose. 

Couldn’t he forget about that too?

Step three – block his number.

The third step comes into place after you accidentally slip out to Jihoon about the phone call you get on a Friday night– more like two hours into Saturday already– and now, most of all, you must admit that your best friend might be right about his advice.

Your phone starts ringing at 2:11 AM, and while you weren’t sleeping– you’ve been having some trouble with dozing off without being overbeared with thoughts lately– the name flashing on your screen shocks you for more reasons than one. 

Mark Lee calls you, three weeks after your breakup, in the middle of the night. You haven’t spoken since the time he gave you back your stuff, and even though you’ve done quite a bit of stalking on his social media, you have no news of him or his whereabouts. Naturally, a call from him in the middle of the night startles you and shakes you to the core. He has no reason to call you, so your brain does the math and concludes there must be an emergency– and god knows that even after being hurt by him, you could never ignore him and leave him hanging in a state of need.

So you pick up– with shaky hands and a raging heartbeat, expecting the worst. Listening to the other side of the line, you take a deep breath in and out, bracing yourself for the impact of the words you’re going to hear. The voice on the other side is laced with haziness and his tone is almost a little tired– worn out, even– when he finally greets you from wherever he is.

“Hi,” Mark says, and for a second, your heartbeat steadies itself and the world stops spinning– he sounds okay, and for a moment, you’re grateful to hear his voice.

Humming, as if to collect your thoughts, you clear your throat before you offer him an answer. “Hello,��� you greet, “what’s- what’s up?”

“Just wanted to hear your voice,” he says, almost a little abruptly to your question. He doesn't overthink his answer and he doesn't give himself time to think if it's a good idea or not– he just blurts it out and now it's your problem to deal with, when it's there, out in the open. Your palms get sweaty and you start to lose feeling in your fingertips, making you take a few seconds to yourself to process the situation before you decide to finally answer to the strange sentence. 

“It’s late, Mark,” you mumble, and you involuntarily wonder if the sentence doesn’t have double meaning– it's too late for anyone to call at this hour, and at the same time, it’s been weeks since your ex boyfriend lost the privilege of listening to your voice when he can’t sleep in the middle of the night whenever he feels like it– and it’s now too late to do anything about it or make it any easier to deal with.

“Shit, sorry,” he chuckles to himself, and you suddenly recognise the laziness in his voice to be the effect of his and his best friend Hyuck’s Friday endeavors; the sweet coating of his voice being the effect of none other than the momentary bliss that comes with the relaxation of his body and mind when he's high. “Didn’t realize,” he concludes, making you shake your head at him in disbelief– not really mattering that he can’t see you in the act.

“‘s okay,” you mumble– and in your perfect reality, you hang up the phone now. In your perfect reality, you connect it to your charger and close your eyes, calling it a night. You fall asleep with no thoughts rummaging through your brain and wake up in the morning to a new sunny day, ready to take on the responsibilities of what’s to come, having productive days ended with smiles and a hot dinner you make for yourself just because you feel like it. In your perfect reality, you protect your own heart. This is not your perfect reality, though– and that’s why you stay on the line, listening to Mark ramble on the other side of the phone, intoxicated and slightly out of it. You wonder if he’ll remember calling you when he wakes up tomorrow. You wonder if he’ll regret it, or if he’ll just shrug his shoulders at the fact and go on with his day, not really paying you much thought when he’s sober.

“I was with Hyuck just now,” he says, and you hear the rustling of his sheets on the other side of the line, making you wonder if he’s washed up and ready for bed, “and– and I remembered how we all used to hang out together, y’know… you with us all– you always clicked with my friends and it was so cool and stuff… and I realized, right, they’re not as funny when you’re not around… but anyways… Jeno’s girlfriend asked about you, ‘cause she didn’t know…and telling her felt so silly, ‘cause they all kept looking at me and I knew they were pitying me, but it was my fault in the first place–”

“Mark–” 

“No, it’s true. And it’s cool, I don’t– I don’t blame you, or anything. I just… I dunno, I guess it got me wondering…”

The line goes silent on the other side, and you settle into your own bed, giving him time to continue. When he doesn’t say anything for a long time, you wonder if he’s fallen asleep.

“Mark?”

“Hm?”

“You still there?”

“Yeah. How was your day?” he asks, tone of voice casual as ever, as if he’s forgotten about all the words he’s told you up until now–  as if it’s not 2 AM and both of your hearts aren’t breaking at the sound of each other’s voice on the other side of the line.

“It… it was okay, I guess,” you say nonetheless, too hopeless to find a way to end the conversation before he does. 

“That’s good to hear,” he says, sighing, “that’s… awesome. You still taking those yoga classes on Mondays?” he asks, and you snicker to yourself– because what kind of question even is that? Who asks that on a late night call, when there are more important things you two need to talk about?

“Yeah,” you lie, still. You haven’t been since the breakup.

“That’s great. Wouldn’t want you to… y’know,” he laughs to himself, “be too sad over this… ‘t was for the better, after all.”

You hear yourself hum– the noise way more stable than your actual words ever could be– and you find yourself feeling silly in the conversation, lying to your ex boyfriend through your teeth; because at the end of the day, you don’t want him to worry about you– because it seems to be the case that he is. And it’s stupid, because he hurt you and you shouldn’t care, maybe you should’ve even show him that you’re heartbroken and that he is the reason behind your pain and the way your life is falling apart, bit by bit, but you don’t find it in you to be so cold and heartless. At the end of the day, you still care about Mark and there’s nothing you could do about it. Turns out that breaking up with him doesn’t magically make the feelings go away– and you knew that, but now you have proof.

“What were you saying before, by the way? You… trailed off at the end,” you say, reminding him of his previous words.

“Oh, that,” he snickers into the microphone again, a heavy sigh escaping his lips as he twists and turns in the sheets, “don’t worry about it. It was selfish of me.”

It was selfish of him to call in the first place. But you won’t tell him that.

“What was it?”

“It’s just… I was wondering if I lost you forever, y’know… if there was a chance we could ever…” he trails off again, but this time, you don’t bug him to complete it. You’re not stupid– you know the implication of his words. You’ve known him for a long time, after all– maybe you should’ve predicted this when you picked up the call.

“I mean…” you hum, “you didn’t lose me completely, if that’s– if that’s what’s keeping you up at night. We’re still friends, aren’t we?” you say, and in the corner of your brain, you can’t even believe the words yourself– but if it was selfish of him to call, you think it’s okay for you to selfishly fill both of you with empty promises, just for the sake of not breaking your heart even further.

“Yeah,” he mumbles, “that’s– …I’m glad.”

The line’s silent after that, and you wonder if you two have used up the list of words to say to each other this time, if there’s truly no other answer at the end of this conversation. When the situation gets too much for you to bear, the heaviness finally settling on your shoulders and your chest, you finally find the courage to sniffle out a quiet goodbye.

“Good night, Mark.”

“G’night,” he drags out, mind still cloudy. “Love you,” spills out from his tongue, like a bad habit.

He ends the call before you get to say it back. Maybe that’s for the better.

And the truth is, you should’ve really listened to Park Jihoon and blocked Mark’s number after this encounter. But you didn’t– you’re too weak for Mark’s sweet words, finding yourself still hanging on to his saccharine voice and the muffled ramble he has reserved for you only every time he gets high and loses all self-control before calling you on Friday nights selfishly demanding your attention, somehow falling for him like a teenager over and over again despite promising yourself you're gonna move on for real now.

Step four – date someone new.

“So…” Jihoon starts one day, eyes glued to your skull like laser beams, the tone of his voice so incomprehensible you think he’s going to scold you for the actions of your previous days– even though you haven't told him about the midnight calls with Mark and so if he's not going through your phone, he has no way of knowing. Tense and nervous, still, knowing that the impact of his words could either heal you or cut you open like a knife– damn him for always being so brutally honest, no matter how soft his heart is for you– you smile at him with tight lips, crossing your arms on your chest in defense.

“So…?” 

A nervous laugh almost escapes your throat. If Jihoon wasn’t suspicious of you before, he surely is now– or he just finds you strange by the way he furrows his brows at you and scans you up and down, taking a second for himself before he sighs and seemingly decides to drop the weird way you’re acting right now, shaking his head and focusing on the task at hand.

“I was thinking… my friend asked about you,” he says, nonchalantly looking down onto his hands and taking the dirt out from behind his nails, as if it’s not a big deal and he doesn’t even care that much. “Choi Hyunsuk from Biology, you know him– shabby haircut, kinda short, failed the class so he has to retake it this year…?”

“I think you’re forgetting the fact that the two of us have completely different majors, Hoonie,” you sweetly smile at him with irony, making him roll his eyes with a sigh before he tries again.

“The guy who ripped his pants at Xiao Dejun’s party last year?”

“Oh, that one! You should’ve said that earlier, of course I remember Choi Hyunsuk from your Biology class,” you nod hurriedly, the gears finally clicking in your brain.

“As if I wasn’t talking about him for the last few minutes–”

“Okay, and what about him?” you cut him off, already tired of his annoying tangent.

“I said he asked about you.”

“I heard that already,” you nod, looking at him with expecting eyes. “And?”

Jihoon stares at you, unblinking, as if you fell on your head and he’s trying to comprehend if you’re still here with him or if you got a concussion and need to be transferred into a hospital. When the contact of his eyes on your skin gets a bit too uncomfortable– you swear his looks could actually kill someone, if he tried enough– you furrow your brows at him in confusion and shake your head in disbelief.

“Why are you staring at me like that, Park Jihoon?”

“Just tryna see if you’re really that stupid or if you’re just pretending,” he mutters under his nose before he sighs again– his favorite activity whenever you’re around, it seems– and speaks up again, tone of voice reminding you of a kindergartener teacher trying to explain why it gets dark in the evening to a bunch of 4 year olds. “You know, when people ask about you, they are usually interested in you, as in, my friend Hyunsuk didn’t ask because you’re nice, but because you’re hot, if you know what I'm getting onto.”

“Oh,” you get out, eyes wide in concern and a little shaken-up, “well, that’s… nice of him, I guess.”

Jihoon only hums at you before he looks around himself and brings out the bag of chips that he left open by his right side only a few seconds ago, not really speaking more about the topic. It’s either he’s waiting for you to get what he’s hinting at, or he’s just waiting for you to get even more confused and ask him about it in a few seconds again– either way, he’s not the one doing more talking right now, because conversations with you, the most oblivious person he’s ever seen, are never productive if he goes too fast.

Chewing on the chips, his eyes go wide when you finally open your mouth and talk more about the topic at hand– just like he predicted. “Why are you telling me this?”

Your best friend swallows before he places the bag of chips back to its original place and turns his whole body so he’s facing you, speaking up again. “I was thinking that maybe, just maybe, you’d like to hang out with him. Like a date, before you ask– because I know you’re gonna ask– and why? – because, again, I know you’re gonna ask– because I simply think you should try to date again to get your mind off the loser you broke up with two months ago,” he says, blunt and honest, answering all of your unsaid questions at once, and before you know it, he has you snickering and shaking your head in disapproval.

“Absolutely not,” you retort, waving your hands in the air to only further show your disagreement with the proposition, “that would just be a massive catastrophe.”

“Why? Hyunsuk’s nice.”

“I didn’t say he isn’t, it’s just…”

“Just?” he probes you, eyebrows raised and questioning.

“I… don’t know,” you nervously chew on the inside of your cheek, aimlessly shrugging. “I just don’t think it’s a good idea, Jihoon.”

“Because of Mark?” he asks, and the moment his name escapes your best friend’s mouth, the whole room goes strangely quiet– you feel your heartbeat in your throat, the tips of your fingers start tingling and you swear that if you concentrate hard enough, you could feel a bead of sweat drip down your forehead with the incoming stress and nerves only the mention of your ex boyfriend brings you.

“No, that’s not it–”

“Sure,” he nods, sighing to himself– and there it is again, the judging look you so despise.

“You can’t just expect me to date other people a few weeks after my break up, Jihoon,” you exclaim, “that– that wouldn’t even be fair to your friend. You know I wouldn’t be invested,” you explain, and your friend rolls his eyes in frustration, sighing to himself.

“Oh but I know that! And Hyunsuk does too,” he shakes his head at you, “just thought the company of someone else could take your mind off things.”

“I have you,” you try.

“Yeah, but all we do when we’re together is mope about Mark Lee,” Jihoon snickers, “and don’t get me wrong, I’m more than open to bitch about your ex boyfriend and as your best friend, I don’t mind, but the fact that you’d be hanging out with someone else could take your mind off him, because you wouldn’t feel comfortable talking about him with someone else, y’know?”

You shut your eyes closed, a heavy sigh heaving out of your body as you try hard to concentrate and not lose it, and with how Jihoon’s tone gets softer and he’s not as loud with his brutal, yet logical advice, he must feel you getting overwhelmed and accommodates to your needs. “Look, it’s gonna be fun. I promise. Hang out with someone new, feel wanted and hot and pretty again, get some male attention that’s not your ex boyfriend, and you’ll see how it makes you feel. If you hate it, you hate it and you can slap me, I don’t know... If you don’t, you can keep dating around with my friends, and I swear I’ll hook you up only with the nice ones,” he takes your hand into his and waves it around in comfort, making you open your eyes and look at him again.

Seeing the softness and encouragement in your best friend’s eyes, you sigh to yourself. All this time, he’s tried to help you– what if you finally follow his advice? Who knows, it might even help. 

Sighing, you squeeze his palm and hover over him to get the stranded bag of chips he’s guarding on the other side of the sofa. “Fine,” you mutter, “but let your friend know that he’s the one paying, okay?”

“Perfect. I'll text him your number, then.“

And maybe Jihoon was right and after dolling yourself up and dressing up in your favorite dress just so you would feel as comfortable as possible, you don’t feel as bad when his friend Hyunsuk picks you up in his white Volvo and chats with you on the way to the restaurant. He makes good small talk and even gets a giggle out of you, the music in his car is low and you find yourself slowly easing into the situation. You don’t remember when the last time you went out with a guy that wasn’t Mark was, but it’s surprisingly nice. 

And Jihoon was right– you feel pretty. And when Hyunsuk opens the door for you after pulling up to the parking lot of the restaurant, you even feel wanted. You like the attention, just like any other girl would, and the smile you offer to your date seeps of tender shyness as you get out of the comfortable seat of his car. 

The illusion, though, is soon broken as you notice the restaurant he pulled up to. Your smile freezes, your palms get sweaty and you feel your heartbeat rummaging against your ribcage as soon as the idle atmosphere of the restaurant opens up before you. And realistically, you could turn on your heel and get back to the car, tell Hyunsuk that you want to go to another restaurant– but you don’t do it, against your biggest wishes, because you worry that the boy already made a reservation and you don’t want to ruin an evening that’s going well so far.

“Everything alright?” your date checks up on you, seemingly noticing the frown on your face, and when his worried eyes meet yours, it’s sealed– you’d feel too bad for pulling out of the date now. So you only do what you always do best– you put on your best relaxed smile and nod, catching up to him and ensuring him that you’re all okay and you didn’t just talk yourself out of an anxiety attack. 

Because you owe it to him and to Jihoon– both of them worked so hard to make you feel happy and help you to get over your ex boyfriend. It’s not Hyunsuk’s fault that he just managed to pick the restaurant your said ex boyfriend works at part-time. He had no way of knowing, and if you’re lucky enough, Mark wouldn’t be on today. He only works here part-time, it’s not like he’s here every day, and as far as you’re concerned, he only worked like two or three days a week when you dated. It would be a weird coincidence for him to be working the day you go there with your new date– you hope you’re not that unlucky.

Hyunsuk is a gentleman. Opening up doors for you, pulling out the chair for you, letting you talk and not interrupting you. He watches you with fond eyes and you almost try to feel bad for the fact that even if this ended well, the poor boy would just end up being a rebound. He deserves so much more, and you start to worry if this date was a good idea after all. Wasn’t it selfish of you to agree to this? 

“What do you want to get?” he asks as you open up the menu, and you squint at the prices, mentally taking a note to order the cheapest thing just in case he wants to pay for you at the end of the evening. 

“Spaghetti Bolognese,” you blurt out, despite it not being your favorite meal. Hyunsuk just stares at you with squinted eyes, but doesn’t disagree with you. After all, he has no way of knowing that you dislike the taste of the sauce in most restaurants– even though your conscience tells you that Mark knew that and always made sure to remind you about it before ordering for you, worried that you won’t get to eat much that evening– the only thing left to hope is that it tastes good in this particular place. 

“Okay, sure,” he nods and puts the menu down, smiling at you before engaging in a comfortable conversation with you. It feels like you’ve known Hyunsuk forever– his personality oddly reminding you of Jihoon’s caused mainly by the fact that the two have grown up together. Everything flows soundly, but you still find yourself anxiously picking at your cuticles as you cautiously look around the restaurant, fearing the fact that you could catch a glimpse of your ex boyfriend at any second.

And maybe you should be a psychic, because those bad feelings were not there for nothing– when you see a waiter walking out of the back and eyeing your table, ready to get your order, the boy is a few inches taller than your current date, raven hair messy, but still a little styled, dark circles under the man’s eyes, and there he is– your ex boyfriend. Mark Lee halts in his movements, wearing his work uniform, eyes wide, a hint of something that breaks you at least in two mirroring in his orbs before he turns on his heel and disappears in the back again. When he doesn’t come back and his co-worker joins you and Hyunsuk at your table with a warm smile, you stop waiting to see the glimpse of him you selfishly desired to catch despite fearing the interaction the whole evening.

You want to fall through the floor and disappear in the depths of this earth. For some reason, you feel mortified. What would he think? And why do you even care about his feelings? A million different thoughts run through your brain and you worry that you’re being too distant from your current date, but Hyunsuk’s warm eyes reassure you that he doesn’t mind. 

Piercing the food on your table with your eyes, you try to battle the noisy words running around your brain. 

It’s easy to say you’re over someone when you don’t see them. To have them in front of you, meet their gaze and acknowledge their existence and still be able to nod and say that you’ve moved on, is something completely different. 

Were you ever convinced that you were over Mark Lee in the first place, though?

After all of this– the months of following Jihoon’s advice, although making a few mishaps along the way as you continue to pick up Mark’s calls on Friday nights, snoop around his socials and let your mind wander to places it shouldn’t, overthinking everything and making you wish the relationship never ended in the first place– it’s time for the last step of it all. The last, most crucial part of this whole moving on process– the most important one, if you may.

Step five – avoid him at all costs.

Sounds easy, right? After the four previous steps, you’d already cried plenty about the lost months with your ex-boyfriend. You’d already given him back all of his stuff, not tying yourself to him with any material memory. You’d already gone on a date with someone new, choosing to distract yourself instead of letting yourself feel the emotions. After all the previous steps, this one’s supposed to be the easiest one. The one you’re supposed to want to do, after all. The break-up wasn’t messy, but it was still painful– it’s only natural for you to not want to see Mark ever again, right?

Wrong.

Because you never listen to the advice you’re given. That just wouldn’t be you, would it?

And so when Mark Lee calls you one day and tells you that he has a free train ticket to the Bukhansan stop, explaining that he was supposed to go hike there with Donghyuck who canceled on him last minute because of an assignment due midnight, you don’t really hesitate much before you shoot him a short text saying that you’re down and get ready for the short hike. 

When you meet your ex boyfriend at the station, his figure slightly slouched up until the moment his eyes meet yours, you feel the quiet tension in the air. You’ve seen each other a few times before this meeting– on a party you went to with Jihoon, at the campus when you went to class one morning, your ex boyfriend walking you towards the Art building, hell, you’ve even met in the grocery store, all accidental and making your heart leap in your chest with tension. This time, though, you’re here completely intentionally, just to hang out with him, and something about the fact makes a dull pain shoot all through your intestines, a sensation so uncomfortable you try to hide with a tight-lipped smile. 

“Ready for the hike?” he asks, adjusting the bag on his back, playing with the straps with clammy fingers. You can’t help but notice how he looks just like a little boy, in his little world, shielded from everything. He seems to have taken a protective stance, and you hate how the air between you shifted from how you two used to be when you were dating. Mark seems scared. Nervous. On top of his feet. Maybe you shouldn’t have agreed to this at all.

You’re already here, though. Turning around and leaving wouldn’t really work right now, as you take a step towards the train that’s just arrived, humming to your ex boyfriend in agreement. Taking a seat on the place Mark’s pointed to you on the train ticket, you try to loosen up your muscles and get as comfortable as you can, clearing your mind as you gaze outside of the window.

“How have you been?” he asks, clearing his throat.

Pressing your lips into a tight line, you turn to him as you search for an answer. “Better,” you nod, voice quiet. “You?”

Mark hums, chewing the inside of his cheek. “Good, good,” he lies through his teeth, “I’ve seen you at the restaurant the other day,” he hints, and you battle the sigh that’s begging to cut out of your throat. You don’t know where he’s going with the sentence. It’s not a question– only a proposition, barely even that– and you could ignore it with a nod of your head, you could pay it no mind as you see the bitterness in his gaze and the slightly self-conscious averting of his stare. You don’t know where he’s going with the conversation, but frankly, you don’t know where you are going with your answer either, as you shrug to him in a casual manner and peep under your breath.

“Yeah,” you say, “that was just… Jihoon’s friend from uni, I suppose,” you complete, and the sentence hints at nothing– it doesn’t clear out the confusion, it doesn’t outright say anything that could make Mark believe that it was just a casual hang-out with a friend, but still, you see the boy visibly relax as he nods to you and offers you a tight-lipped smile.

“Oh,” he hums, looking out of the window, past the profile of your face. The change in topic is sudden and sharp, but also welcome as he falls into a casual conversation with you, and suddenly, you’re reminded by the Mark you once knew– the guy you’ve once called not socially awkward, but so social that it’s awkward– as he talks to you about his day and rambles on about the weather. “It’s good that it won’t rain today, I bet the view will be nice.”

Locking your gaze with him for a brief second, you lick your lips and point your eyes towards the ground. It’s good that it won’t rain today, as opposed to last time you two went to the Bukhansan trail. You wonder if he remembers.

Before you have a chance to mention it– and in all reality, you won’t, no matter how bold you could be feeling at the moment– the train comes to a stop at your station and you hop out of the carriage, ready for the hike.

It’s easy to forget how messed up things have gotten between the two of you when you walk alongside with your ex boyfriend, laughing at his silly jokes and gasping at everything he shows to you with a pointed finger, finding yourself admiring the sound of his giggle when he spots a squirrel pass your path somewhere near the top of the hill. The trail is almost empty at this hour, since the two of you have decided to go in the late afternoon, and you find your soul to finally be at peace after so many weeks, you finally feel relaxed in the nature, one with the wind and the gentle sound of birds chirping lullying your running thoughts to a rest. 

You realize that this is just what you needed all this time. You needed to get out and walk for some while, to tune out yourself and to accept the fact that you’re still here, for another day, and something about that is still a blessing. Watching the back of Mark’s head as he walks a step in front of you due to the narrowness of the trail in this area, you smile to yourself. It’s easy to forget just how much you were hurt by him when he heals your soul with such a simple gesture. It’s easy to forget you were hurt when he seemingly tries to put all the broken pieces back together, glue them to where they were in the first place, when things were easier and you both didn’t have so many things to worry about. 

You reach the top just as the sun starts setting over the horizon, and there are only a few people scattered across the peak, sitting on their own picnic blankets and gazing into the distance. The hues of the sky paint the world in a different color, the oranges, pinks and muted purples playing with your heartstrings as you come to a halt and crouch down and feel the presence of another soul mirror your actions only a meter away to your right, his gaze glued to your side. The view is beautiful, but the feeling of being watched isn’t ignorable anymore, and so you turn to your companion and raise your eyebrows at him, wondering if he has something to say.

You don’t know how you’ll be able to come back to your life after this and pretend you still don’t want to spend every passing second with the man on your right. You don’t know how you’re supposed to ignore the ever so growing love for him– even though after being so disappointed with the past, the feelings should be decreasing, not doing the opposite– and frankly, you don’t even want to think of going back to the way it’s been for the past few months. And so you don’t– you allow yourself to indulge the moment, to ignore the pain that’s about to come, just so you could hold another beautiful memory to your heart and enjoy the moment before it hurts you to think of it tomorrow morning. 

“It’s even more beautiful than the last time,” Mark hums, but his eyes never leave your figure– if you were still dating, you bet he’d come out with a cheesy line about how you’re prettier than the view, or something. “It didn’t rain this time around, thank god.”

Gazing at him, you shake your head in disbelief. Scoffing, you play with the grass between your fingers. “You remember that?”

“Yeah,” he hums, “I remember a lot of things.”

The sentence makes you bitterly chuckle. He knows why you’re reacting the way you are– and you have every right to. He claims to remember a lot of things, but the ones important to you, the ones you wanted him to remember, he failed to save into his memory. And that’s eventually what made you break up with him, at the end of it all.

At your reaction, he sighs and drags a hand across his face, seemingly realizing the weight of his own words and just how ridiculous he must have sounded to you right now. 

“I- That-” he stutters, shaking his head, “that sounded stupid right now, considering… everything… Didn’t it?”

“Kind of,” you nod, not wanting to meet his eyes. 

“I’m sorry,” he blurts out, voice suddenly raw and serious, so different to the tone he’s been using with you the whole afternoon, “I don’t- I can’t remember if I said that back then, when you- when you… broke up with me, but I really am sorry, Y/N. You didn’t deserve that, and I am in no way shape or form trying to make this about me, but I hate myself every day for the way things turned out and if I could go back to that day, I’d do so many things differently.”

The sky in front of you deepens in reds and you taste iron on your tongue, suddenly hyper-aware of the fact that you’ve managed to bite on your lip too hard in the midst of the conversation. Tearing out stems of grass with your clammy fingertips, you focus on the clouds running through the sky, calculating your next response.

“Okay,” you nod, not giving him much else. The answer perfectly encapsulates the way you feel on the inside right now– you don’t know if you’re ready to accept his apology, if you’re ready to let go of it and act like you weren’t hurt or that none of it ever happened, but you listened to him and you internalized his words. He is sorry. He knows he was in the wrong. And you were aware that he knew all of this before– hell, you’d even go as far as say he knew it the moment you knocked on his door that day and told him it was over– but hearing it from him surely moved something inside of you to a more comfortable place.

“I-” he starts, voice breaking making him clear his throat before he continues, “I don’t expect you to forgive me. And I know I shouldn’t have expected you to still be my friend after all of this, and that- I shouldn’t have even called you so many times and approached you at the store and stuff, but um-” he mumbles, shrugging to himself, “I guess I just couldn’t stay away from you. And again, I don’t expect you to forgive me, I don’t expect you to do anything, really. So… yeah…”

Snickering at his aimless monologue, you shake your head in disbelief. “Mark?”

“Yeah?” he stares at you, eyes a bottomless pool of emotion.

“Why did you invite me here today? What was the… point, I guess?” you ask, hugging your knees to your chest as the breeze makes goosebumps appear all over your body. 

Mark offers you a sad smile, head leaned to his right as he shrugs, and this time, his eyes don’t leave yours as he spills the truth into the air. “I guess I was just feeling selfish today,” he hums, and the sentence makes you cringe with the memory of his first call to you after your break up, “wanted to spend time with you.”

“Here, of all places?”

“Yeah,” he nods, “told you. I was feeling selfish.”

Snickering, you look away, staring at the sky again. The colors are starting to blend together into a deep, dark purple– the horizon darkening as the sun starts to say its final goodbyes to the day. You sigh to yourself, yet feel no bitterness or terror at his words. Somehow, you understand. Somehow, you get him a little too well. Somehow, you think you knew the moment he texted you today, and somehow, you think you felt it in your bones when you didn’t say no, although you could have. There’s calmness in your soul when you nod at the implication of his words, leaning back on your elbows and plopping your bottom to the ground, sitting at the dusty surface. 

“You said you didn’t expect anything out of me today, Mark.”

“And I don’t,” he says, voice soft. 

“And you brought me here to remind me of the last time we went?” you stare at him, a hint of a bitten-back smile playing with your lips. “Because you’re selfish?” 

He nods, not escaping your gaze. “To remind you of the last time we went. To show you that… I remember, I guess. And that I still care, just like the last time. If not more.”

“Mark, you can’t just say all of this and expect nothing out of me right now,” you mutter.

“Actually, I can. Because that’s what I’m doing. I’m just… laying it out in the open, and what you do with the information is completely, completely up to you,” he explains, and you find yourself chuckling at him, the atmosphere instantly lighter as you hear his voice in its usual casualness, talking to you as if he was just unpacking what went on in class today, and not the starting and the end of your one year relationship.

And he’s right. What you do with the information is completely up to you, and the next steps and the progress of your relationship with Mark Lee is also completely in your hands. You could turn away and never talk to him again, you could curse at him and tell him that it’s too late now and he missed his chance, but if that was the case, you wouldn’t be here in the first place. He wouldn’t be inviting you to this place, lying about his roommate canceling just to trick you into going, and you wouldn’t be blindly accepting the invitation, wanting to see where the afternoon brings you. 

“So you still care about me?” you hum, looking at him from under your eyelashes, noticing his slouched-over pose as he looks back at you over his shoulder.

“Always have,” he admits, “never stopped. Despite not really… acting like it in the past few months.”

“Why’d you stop acting like it, then?” you ask.

A sigh escapes his lips, his head turning forward before he leans back and sits cross-legged on the ground, more comfortably now. Shrugging, he answers the question. “I guess I just got too caught up with different things. And don’t get me wrong, you were always my priority, always, but I was all over the place with everything and my mind just couldn’t… there were too many things to keep up with and I couldn’t stay up to date with everything,” he says, “and I know it’s not an excuse, but it’s an explanation, and it doesn’t make it better or undo the pain I’ve caused you, but it’s… at least you know it was never because I’d care about you any less.”

His eyes bear into yours with such honesty you think the weight of the world will crash on you any minute, and suddenly, the whole situation seems so much clearer.

And you wouldn’t take it back, you wouldn’t undo the breakup or do anything differently, because at the end of the day, you think it was needed. Perhaps the time apart was what he needed as a wake up call and what you needed to shield yourself from hurting more. 

“Stop me from saying it if you… if you don’t want to hear it right now,” he hums, voice barely louder than a whisper. There seems to be a silent communication between the two of you, a connection of some sort that brings out the strange telepathy, but you just nod at him, a gentle smile playing with your lips as you understand exactly what he means, telling him that it’s okay and that you don’t mind– you welcome, you need to hear him say it again.

Licking his lips, he turns to you fully, facing you. There’s not a hint of nervousness in his body, having done this a lot of times before, and then it happens– the repeated confession, confirming what was there the whole time, never leaving even when the times were rough. 

“I love you,” he says.

And isn’t that all that’s needed? 

A year is a long time with someone. Somehow, you wouldn’t want the time to go to waste. At the end of the day, if love is still present, isn’t it worth trying? One more time?

“And you still don’t expect anything from me?” you ask, gazing at him softly. “You don’t expect me to say it back?”

“No,” he breathes out, shrugging. “I just needed to get it off my chest.”

“Because you’re selfish like that,” you nod, teasing him. 

“Because I’m selfish like that,” he agrees, breaking out into a slight grin.

Looking at the sky, now completely dipped in dark purple, you sigh to yourself at the turmoil of the conversation. You don’t say it back– although you feel it, you know it’s in there, playing with your heartstrings and clenching the muscle in the palm of its hand– you know love is there, deep inside, for the man that’s currently staring at you as if you hung the very stars appearing on the sky there yourself, stolen them from your own eyes and gluing them there selflessly, for everyone to see. You don’t tell him you love him back, you don’t tell him you forgive him or accept his apology. You don’t worry about what tomorrow will bring you, what your brain is going to tell you when you come down from the hill and get home, lay in your bed and overthink. You let the worries escape you, letting fondness and calm envelope you in a tight hug instead.

“Okay,” you nod, watching the boy next to you look at you with curious eyes. You take his hand into yours and place it on your thigh, playing with his fingers for a heartbeat before you meet his eyes again and smile. “I won’t say it back, but for all it’s worth, Mark… I’m glad you remembered.”

And that’s all he needs– there is love, there is fondness, and there is the silent confirmation that all you need right now is just a bit more time. 

Where do broken hearts go?

Somehow, you think they hold on to the place where it all started. Somehow, you think your heart never went anywhere– it stayed on this hill, waiting for you to pay it a visit and pick back up everything right from where you left it.

“It doesn’t seem like a good idea to go here today, Y/N,” Mark laughed behind you as he looked up to the sky, the dark clouds shielding the sun that had been previously shining down on your hiking figures, casting an orange glow on the strands of your hair. 

“Well, there’s no turning back now,” you shrugged, turning to him and grinning as you tugged on his hand, grip strong as you dragged the boy up the trail, your sneakers fast against the dirty ground. “We have finals starting next week and it’s gonna be too cold to go after the exam season is over, so we gotta go now.”

“I kind of regret telling you that I’ve never been here before now,” Mark sighed, but followed you nonetheless, breathlessly following your excited stride. It was October, the leaves on the trees were welcoming the two of you in shining colors, and the wind kissing your skin turned a bit chilly in the evenings– courtesy of the warm hoodie Mark shyly lended you when you shivered for the first time, adoring the way you, his friend, looked in the light gray fabric. Something about you wearing his clothes made the boy a bit hopeless about the day. Maybe he’ll have enough courage to confess his feelings to you, he thought. Maybe, despite the first raindrops falling on the skin of his bare arms, this evening will have a happy ending for you and him. 

“Oh, please,” you squinted at him, continuing to run up the hill– thank god it wasn’t that steep, serving both of you as the perfect hiking difficulty, “even if you wouldn’t have, I’d drag you here anyway. It’s like, my favorite place to go in Seoul, haven’t I told you before?”

You have, Mark thought. But he was okay with hearing it again. 

You squealed when the raindrops got heavier and the rain started pouring faster on the two of you, and Mark found himself laughing at your running figure. He was right behind you, praying that you don’t slip on one of the rocks and break your leg on the hiking trail, but he encouraged you with sweet comments and a hand on the small of your back as he watched the tip of the hill appear right in front of his very eyes, your body coming to a satisfied halt when you reached your destination.

“Tada!” you grinned at him, twirling a little like a ballerina, showing him the place with outstretched arms. He tried hard to observe the place, but his eyes stayed glued to your excited figure, gaze bearing into yours as you looked at him, amidst a little flustered, with sparkly orbs and a bright smile on your face. Your hair was a mess, his gray hoodie enveloping your body was slowly growing darker in color from absorbing the rain, and your sneakers were getting a bit muddy from walking around the place. He wanted to remember this moment forever, he thought– this version of you, the smiley expression on your face, the carefree and excited nature of your step. 

“Isn’t it beautiful?” you exclaimed, jumping around and nearing the boy, but as you went to take his hand to drag him around the top of the hill once more, your feet slipped and you fell forward, a surprised squeak battling its way out of your throat.

Your whole life flashed in front of your very eyes in that moment, embarrassment spreading down your neck at the fact that you were about to fall face first onto the ground in front of your crush of a few months, before your body collided with a soft, yet firm mass engulfing you closer. A pair of strong arms steadied you against his chest, and when you looked up at your friend, you swear all words were taken out of your dictionary, the sight leaving you speechless.

“It is,” he gaped, eyes bearing into yours. Mark was agreeing with you, but something in the back of your head was telling you that he didn’t really admire this place as much as you did– his curious gaze was always plastered somewhere completely else. 

That place being your face, of course. And your eyes, your cheeks, the mess of your bangs, and occasionally– screw that, almost always– your lips. Much like in that moment, a few centimeters away from his face, so inviting he thought it would be a crime to contain the urge. 

And so he didn’t– he didn’t control his feelings and the ever-so growing yearning for you, as he silently leaned towards your face and captured his lips with yours in a firm, yet short kiss.

He looked at you with a nervous tint behind his gaze when he leaned away, the sight of your wide eyes staring at him making a slight flush grow on his cheeks. You looked so beautiful in that moment– flustered, surprised, with messy hair and lips still apart– and he was relieved to not find a hint of a displeased emotion in your expression. 

“Okay, so- well-” you stuttered, laughing to yourself, “this didn’t go as I planned, but I guess I’m happy as long as the final result is the same,” you hummed, standing on your tippy-toes and pressing your lips against him once more, this time letting yourself enjoy the moment fully, mouth moving against his in a careful, yet excited rhythm. He tasted like the strawberry candy you offered him on the bottom of the trail and smelled a bit like rain, the mixture always staying in the depths of your mind as his warmth enveloped you in comfort and a feeling of home.

“The final result being…?” he asked when you pulled apart once again, a dazed expression overtaking his sharp features.

“Us,” you shrugged, “like this,” you clarified.

Mark laughed at that, hugging you closer to his chest. You rested your head on his shoulder, listening to the sound of raindrops washing away the top layer of dirt off the rocks on the tip of the hill, hands sneaking around his waist and enjoying the way they wrapped around him so tightly and so comfortably. You in his hoodie, in your favorite place, standing in his arms. It was raining, but it didn’t matter.

“Mark?” 

“Hm?” 

“If we ever get lost, or something happens… bring me back here, okay?” you mumbled close to his ear, lips gently glazing the skin of his ear, making goosebumps appear all over your new lover. “I’m convinced that this place could fix everything.”

“Even us?” 

“Don’t be ridiculous. You’re not allowed to ever leave me now, what would there be to fix between us?” you smacked his shoulder, snickering to yourself.

“You never know,” he laughed, “what if I accidentally mess up somewhere along the way?” he asked, threading his fingers through your hair, smoothing down the wet mess.

“Okay then,” you hummed, “even us.”

Staring into your eyes, letting the moment play out by itself, Mark swore he’s never felt more at peace. He wondered if it was the effect of the place, the rain, or just your sheer presence.  “I’ll remember that,” he giggled before he let go of your body, petting your head as he took a hold of your hand, tugging you down from where you came from, “now let’s go home before we catch a cold.”

Nodding, following the man as you both carefully, yet fastly made it down the trail, you enjoyed the way his hand fit into yours and the way you knew that after this, you can’t ever come back to being friends with Mark Lee. He was all yours, completely, utterly yours, and you knew in the back of your head, that you were his– and nothing will ever change that.

You would always come back to the hill with him. It felt ridiculous to think about you two ever having to fix anything between the two of you back then, but even in that moment, you knew that for him, you’d keep trying. As long as he does– as long as he remembers.

Where do broken hearts go? You guess they always come right back to the place they come from– and they leave glued back together every single time.

You guess your heart never really left the hill.

[dearhargrove]

Survivors

Evan Buckley x reader

summary You're taking care of Christopher when Buck comes home, looking absolutely drained and in shock and goes straight to Christophers room. You overhear the news and make sure to care for both Chris and Buck.

word count 1639

tags pretty much episode 14 season 4, Eddie gets shot but it's not described, Buck is sad :(, Chris being the precious kid he is

a/n the way I sat there in silence when Eddie got shot is crazy. Like first they hurt us with Athena and Bobby's fight and then one second passes and Eddie (my bb) gets shot I'm so confused 😭 anyway I couldn't take it when I saw bucks reaction so I wrote a fix it for me. Also I screen recorded off of an illegal site to make gifs LMAO

masterlist

You're washing the dishes when the front door opens and closes, footsteps echoing through the hallway and living room - right past the kitchen.

“Eddie?” You call and the steps stop. Instead of the man you'd expected there's your husband, Buck. He looks distraught, eyes bloodshot and lips bitten raw. What the hell happened? He doesn't even really look at you, it's like he's looking through you. “Buck? You okay?”

He licks his lips and blinks a few times but he doesn't reply. He walks straight to Christopher's bedroom, you following after him in confusion and worry. Why was he alone and why did he look like he'd seen a ghost or worse?

He stops before entering Chris’ room, but not to wait for permission to come in but more like hesitancy. He balls his hand into a fist and takes a deep breath before walking in. You take his spot in the doorway and watch with a worried frown as Buck squats down in front of Chris who's sitting on his bed, playing a video game.

“Where's Dad?” Buck looks down and you see him swallow again before he looks into the kids eyes. “He's.. not coming home tonight, Chris.”

Chris seems almost unbothered by it but considering that Eddie had to stay in the hospital overnight almost regularly due to his job, it was a reasonable reaction. But Buck doesn't seem to think the same and shakes his head minimally.

“Did he get hurt? In a fire?” Chris inquires and Buck turns his head to the side and slowly shakes it in negation. Before explaining it he sits down next to Chris and pinches the bridge of his nose, frowning. “No, not- not in a fire.” He takes another deep breath before continuing, “The truth is someone hurt your Dad.”

It's been a while since you've heard his voice so sullen and raspy from crying - probably since the last visit from his parents and that was weeks ago now. You slowly and quietly come into the room as well, standing at the foot of the bed and next to Buck with his back turned to you.

He regards you with a short glance before focusing back on Christopher, confirming his question, “Yeah, a bad guy.”

You see him reach up and wipe under his eyes, frowning in empathy as you put your hand between his shoulder blades and slowly move it up and down in hopes to calm him down a bit.

“Is he gonna be okay?” Chris asks and you're glad he did because you want to know too. Buck looks at him again and nods. “Your Dad is tough. He's a fighter.”

“He's with the doctors now? The ones that fixed you?” Chris inquires and Buck nods. You see the conflict on his face before the ten year old nods, “Then he's gonna be fine.” You hum and Buck glances your way before focusing back on Chris. Just as he's about to say something his phone pings twice and he looks down at it.

Over his shoulder you see the message as well, stemming from Bobby.

Out of surgery. Doctors say it went well.

Your heart basically drops in relief and Bucks seems to as well when his phone drops from his hand and he pretty much caves in, dropping his chin to his chest as he sniffles and exhales deeply.

You thread your hand in his hair and he automatically leans into you, resting against your stomach as he starts to cry. His hands grasp at your hips before his arms wrap around you and he sobs.

“Shh, it's okay, baby. Eddie's gonna be fine. Right, Chris? Your dad's strong.”

The young boy nods and you smile assuringly as he reaches out and wraps his arm around Bucks shoulders to pat his back. You melt at the sight and ruffle his hair which he usually doesn't like - only his dad is allowed to - but now he just looks at you with worry and confusion.

“How about you go and get ready for bed, hm?” It's not a question and it is a reasonable time for him to head to bed anyway, so he complies and slowly walks to the bathroom.

When he's out of earshot you sit next to Buck and let him fully wrap his arms around you and put his head on your chest as he cries. “H-He got shot right in front of me,” he starts with hitching breaths. “He just dropped and his blood was all over me-” he sobs deeply and you kiss his head while trying to process this yourself. He got shot?

“You couldn't have prevented it, love. He's gonna be fine. Eddie survived a lot, he's going to pull through this time, too.” Buck shakes his head and pulls back enough to look at you, blue eyes glossy and chin quivering as he gasps between another sob.

“It shouldn't have been him!” This devastates you and you cup his face in your hands, your worried expression replaced by a stern one. “It shouldn't have been anyone. Not him and not you, either. You hear me?”

He whimpers and you sigh, wiping your thumbs under his eyes and placing a long, soft kiss on his birthmark. “As soon as we can, we'll go visit him. But now you have to be strong, for Christopher. He looks up to you, if he sees you sad he'll be sad, too. Let's get him to bed, and I'll take care of you after.”

You take his hand and put it over your heart, exaggerating your breaths so he could match his and calm down. Right when he does he opens his eyes again and his frown fades enough to only be barely visible. “‘m sorry.”

The shake of your head is immediate, shutting up any further apologies. “No. It's good to let it out. I'm here so you can do exactly that if you need to. I love you, Evan. Nothing's gonna change that.”

He pulls his hand from your chest and tangles it with yours instead, gently kissing your knuckles and then your inner wrist.

He used to hate his name after it reminded him of his parents- of how they treated him. It reminds him of a life where he had to endure pain to receive love and attention.

But when you say it, it makes his heart beat faster in a good way. It makes him want to move on from his trauma or at least learn to deal with it.

And moreover it makes him feel validated. With you, he's not just Buck. He's also vulnerable, emotional and a bit cheesy. He's Evan. Evan, who's had more jobs in more cities than he can count on one hand because he was trying to find his place in the world. Evan, who likes the ocean but has been uneasy around it ever since the tsunami.

You smile lovingly and peck his forehead just as Chris comes back inside. He's wearing some dino pajamas and you ‘ohh’ at him which makes him giggle and turn as if to show off his outfit.

You move up from the bed - Buck going with you and standing at the foot of it - and untuck the bedsheets. “Get in there.” Chris grins and lays down, letting you tuck him in.

“Don't be sad, kid.” He says to Buck, who tries and fails to hide a new round of tears building up in his eyes. You had no clue where and why Chris sometimes calls Buck or even Eddie ‘kid’ but both of them seemed to love it.

“I'm just a bit worried for your Dad. But he'll be fine,” he adds the last part when you glance at him warningly, not wanting Chris to worry, and smiles. “Goodnight, bud.”

You leave his nightlight on and the door open as you leave.

Buck settles on the couch and watches as you approach and stand in front of him.

He leans back into the couch and looks at you with those puppy dog eyes that make you melt every single time he looks at you. Damn him and his beautiful eyes.

“I'm really scared. I don't know what I would do without him… when he laid there and looked at me, I-” he inhales sharply and looks at his hands, picking at his nails and reopening an old abrasion in the process.

You take his hand into each of yours to stop him and sigh, “I think you're gonna have to move from monthly sessions to biweekly, babe.” You know his therapy has been helping him a lot and you're glad he's working on coping with his trauma, but this addition is going to complicate not just his home life but also work - especially when Eddie comes back.

He groans and pulls you down until you're sitting on his lap, knees on either side of his thighs and his hands on your hips. “I appreciate your help, lovie, but just let me try and rest a little right now, please?”

You smile and card a hand through hair, moving to get off his lap so he could get comfortable on the couch. “Where do you think you're going?” He huffs and you're pushed onto your back before he's leaning over you, laying between your legs.

“You're gonna use me as your pillow?” You prompt and he nods, laying his head on your shoulder and nuzzling his nose into your neck and against your pulse point. You're familiar with his constant search for proof that you're alive and well; you supposed it comes from not just the job but his abandonment issues, too.

It didn't matter to you though, as long as you got to hold him at the end of the day you'd let him maneuver you into whatever way made him happy.

[rootspiral]

Agatha All Along deep dive: episode 1 part 4

(Wandavision entries: [1][2][3])

(AAA entries: ep1 [1][2][3][4] ep2 [1][2][3][4] ep3 [1][2][3] ep4 [1][2][3][4][5][6][7])

well, well, well, if it isn't the consequences of my own actions

do you think it took Rio a long time to choose her revenge dress? did she agonize over every detail? I picture her process like, okay I need an outfit that says fuck you (threatening) but also fuck you (horny) and fuck me (very horny) and then circle all the way back to FUCK YOU THOUGH (VERY threatening)

as to why Rio goes from super soft to *that* - I see it as the equivalent of the TV trope where someone almost dies and their loved one is very concerned, but as soon as there's no danger they slap them around the head and call them a fucking idiot. this is Rio's WELCOME HOME, CHEATER moment (Agatha has been kiiiind of been cheating death, lbr)

this is the best way rio could choose to approach agatha too, and not only because it lets her express all that pent up anger. what would be the alternative? sit Agatha down and have a honest chat? Rio knows her too well, she knows it would be simply too much. Agatha *is* more comfortable with big bombastic scenes, with violence that is a lot like foreplay. Rio is looking out for her right now, she is making it as easier for Agatha as she can, while also not letting her get away with her bullshit any longer.

one little sentence, so many ways to read it

only physically. she's not letting you in. not anymore. you'll have to save her from herself kicking and screaming. dear god she's actually honestly crying. this is a WHOLE fucking deal. and it's also the first time she sees Rio while knowing WHO rio is. she's feeling all the feelings

girls. GIRLS. how am I supposed to take decent screenshots if you keep flinging each other at walls. keep STILL! (look at the furniture btw, isn't it a bit curved? I think they're still using a fisheye lens. reality is still shifting. almost as if we're in the presence of an otherworldly being)

oh the metaphor of it. sometimes you just have to reach out and connect, even if you get hurt in the process.

BECAUSE SHE'S BEEN SHIELDING FOR SO LONG TO HIDE FROM PAIN. OH MY GOD. did a 2000s emo kid write this

every other MCU fight wishes it were this perfect storm of hot and emotionally devastating

Rio cannot physically kill Agatha, it's not allowed, she's only the collector. So what is she trying to do, exactly? Has Agatha really been cheating death for so long that Rio has no choice but to bring her in? Or is she not here to collect at all and this is just her way to get back at her ex (and possibly win her back)? I adore both options, they're tragic in different ways.

time to bullshit! time to bolt! time to get to that escape route! this is what Agatha does best. anything but face the truth

funny how agatha usually has no problem looking undignified. it's almost like this is not the point at all. so let's review: wanda has stripped agatha of the powers that have been keeping her hidden from rio. rio comes over to confront her - and not kill her, she wouldn't be allowed anyway. she does it in a way that agatha would find less scary than having a mature convo. still, agatha has to face things she's been escaping for so long and it's simply too horrifying, too overwhelming. the fact that she's joking around so much (while her future conversations with rio will be sad, soft, dramatic) tells you just how scared and how miserable she is. She's begging rio to stop, because even fighting and flirting, which is their comfort zone, is proving too much. And what does rio do? She listens and goes away. only temporary, she won't let her off the hook now that she has found her. but she's still willing to go at Agatha's pace.

aubrey plaza I would die for your evil little face

can I just say that agatha trying to flirt right now is devastating? she is at the end of her rope. she does NOT want rio to stay, doesn't trust herself around her in so many ways. but she knows how much rio wants her and just... she tries to manipulate her with flirting. it's a desperate gamble, completely undignified, completely in character for agatha. she offers herself to rio, but only physically. when what they had was infinitely more than that, it was beautiful, it was sacred.

and rio... forgives her. she laughs another one of her little soft laughs and lowers the blade. plaza is so good here, the way she says "okay, agatha," is a perfect blend of resentment and tenderness. she knows agatha better than anyone ever had or ever will. she knows why she does everything she does. and she follows her lead. one last time.

agatha's relief. she's trembling, deflated but still on her guard. she looks completely traumatized. the masterpiece that this scene is: you feel smart when you realize that they're flirting rather than fighting. when it finally dawns on you the real weight of their encounter... it's too late.

"by the way there's a bunch of scary witches after you and I totally want them to kill you, that's why I'm telling you exactly who they are and when they're coming"

agatha tries with all her might to believe that rio is heartless. because anger is easier than sadness.

we're leaning, we're leaning, we're leaning!

rio licking agatha's wound to heal it perfectly encapsulates her feelings: anger, horniness, and infinite tenderness. what a power move. rio was the one in control this whole scene, and it wrecked agatha.

"te veo" (I'm gonna go scream in a pillow)

she's gone, honey, she's gone. breathe.

Billy walking on the two of them having sex would have been less awkward than this

she was a BIT preoccupied, kid

and episode 1 is in the bag!

next stop: IT'S LILIA TIME

go to episode 2 part 1

[goldsainz]

SPECIAL GUEST — one shot

pairing: daniel ricciardo x reader

MASTERLIST.

NOTE: this is inspired by the wonderful idea of @thatsdemko!! florence is the loml and i’ve been dying for an excuse to make a fic with her😭 i actually really liked writing this, anything daniel related is always so nice to make. also, this is coming out of my drafts sooner bc of danny’s bday!!!! i wish him a great day, lots of love and a hug 🫶

liked by danielricciardo, harrystyles and 3,852,047 others

yourusername cooking with y/n has gone to vogue… so to celebrate i will be doing another episode sometime this week!

view all 57,680 comments

ynfan1 i used to pray for times like this

ynfan2 nah we’re getting fed fr

haileesteinfeld i better get invited one day…

⤷ yourusername you’re always welcome!! 🫶

ynfan3 YAY!!!!! MORE COOKING WITH Y/N CONTENT

danielfan1 daniel… why are u lurking around here…

user1 i’m so proud of her

ynfan4 TELL US WHO THE MAN IN YOUR VIDS IS

ameliadimz You need to come over asap

liked by yourusername, chickenshopdate and 157,483 others

⤷ ynfan5 OMG??

liked by ynfan21, danielfan21 and 27,105 others

dr3updates Daniel seen with rumoured girlfriend, Y/N Y/L/N, strolling around in Australia!!

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ynfan22 WHAT

danielfan22 daniel rizziardo strikes again

danielfan24 him taking his camera everywhere😭

⤷ user21 it’s kinda cute ngl

user22 they ain’t slick… this is 100% staged

danielfan25 NOT THIS HAPPENING AFTER HE MESSED UP IN THAT INTERVIEW

⤷ ynfan23 DON’T FORGET Y/N’S INTERVIEW

⤷ danielfan25 Y/N AND DANNY IS TOO MUCH POWER IN A COUPLE

ynfan24 her wearing his merch 🫶

yourusername has uploaded an instagram story!

danielricciardo responded to your story!

Daniel Ricciardo

Excuse me?

Y/N Y/L/N

i’m in the next room😭

Daniel Ricciardo

Idc

It’s almost my birthday and this is how you treat me 😔

Y/N Y/L/N

sorry not sorry

but please continue the princess treatment

🙏🙏🙏

Daniel Ricciardo

Mmm…

Just because I kinda like you

Y/N Y/L/N

don’t even

you love me

liked by maxverstappen1, willpoulter and 4,527,830 others

yourusername happy birthday to this menace and also my boyfriend!! 34 never looked so good on someone! i love youuu, sweetheart 💛🎉

view all 63,867 comments

danielricciardo Aww… so will you let me be your first and special guest on cooking with y/n or…

⤷ yourusername someday, mr ricciardo, someday…

ynfan31 EXCUSE ME

danielfan31 not even a hello, how are you… nothing

danielfan32 they’re too cute

maxverstappen1 Ok.

⤷ ynfan32 IM CRYING

⤷ danielricciardo You know the truth, Max ❤️

⤷ yourusername THE ONE TIME I MAKE A CUTE POST

ynfan33 sat for cooking with y/n ft daniel

user31 how did they keep this a secret for over a year😭

redbullracing We need you in the paddock!!

liked by yourusername and 274,639 others

ynfan34 THIS IS SO SPECIAL TO ME YOU DON’T EVEN KNOW

danielfan33 oh i hate them sm (i love them more than my parents and i don’t even know them)

[colourstreakgryffin]

Hi Good morning...

Could you do Yandere Alastor? If not Could Alastor be possessive?

Imagine Charlie going to heaven to talk to the angels (just like in that episode) but in addition to taking his girlfriend, he also took Alastor along with them... Now imagine Alastor being reunited with his beloved wife (who became an angel after her death and with that they both separated) what would happen? Now imagine having other angels flirting with Alastor's wife or trying to protect her since he is the radio demon...

Oooh… okay. This is interesting. Though, I can imagine Alastor may end up dragging us down to Hell with him since he’d be that possessive. He wouldn’t stay in Heaven, he’d be getting us banished from Heaven so he can be with us! That’s how I view it and this is my first Yandere Alastor and Yandere Hazbin Hotel as well!

Alastor- Yin and Yang, Light and Dark

Alastor is a merciless, intimidating man of extreme power as Hell’s all-around-feared Radio Demon. A figure who had nothing to his own name that others did. Just himself, a blade and so many sins under his belt. Nobody would ever suspected he would ever fall in love, that he could fall in love, that it was possible for such a corrupted mind…

But here is both Charlie and Vaggie, and the entirety of Hell being completely disapproved. The young sapphic couple decided to bring their redemption project’s primary investor, Alastor up to Heaven with them as backup support, incase anything happens. The three demons are greeted with the mighty Seraphim, Sera’s assistant. A beautiful warm-hearted female angel that greets them with a warm smile and a familiar accent

Alastor just stopped in place when he met your eyes, he stopped smirking and snarking through this situation. Stopped even smiling as he couldn’t stop looking at this angel… she reminds him of the wife he had lost. Nobody knew he was married… he almost forgot he was. Alastor approaches this sweet-hearted angel and asks politely to hold her hand. Of course, this angel… or also known as you, is a bit hesitant but does so anyway. Eventually being able to flip your hand to reveal the shiny wedding ring that has remained there for so long, it may as well be stuck in place

Since when did Alastor have a wedding ring?! That’s what Vaggie asks herself when Alastor seems to just manifest a shiny golden marriage band onto his hand in just a flick of his wrist, both of you carefully slide off those rings to check the insides, where writing of each other’s names remain. Revealing to one another that you’ve both been reunited since 1933… since Alastor’s death, many years prior your own

You’re found your husband… after almost seventy years

It was hard to not cry before your guests but pulling back in all your emotions and your questions for your estranged now demon husband, Alastor. You have to lead the Princess, her partner and her close friend over to where Sera and Emily await to greet them. Whilst Emily ends up excitedly distracting Charlie and Vaggie, you’re unable to stop thinking about being able to find your husband. You know that ring anywhere and looking at the Radio Demon more, you can see the dark-skinned Creole man behind the new appearance

You smoothly weave past the other two higher-rank inhabitants of this grand bright cool cloudy realm to take Alastor’s hands, prying one off his staff-like microphone-cane and eventually running fingers through his hair, doing so just makes his tall fluffy deer-like ears pin back. It’s just like when you were both humans and how’d you run your fingers through his fluffy dark brown hair to ease him after a long day of work

“Alastor… why did you lie to me? You said we’d go to Heaven together”

He did promise. Back in 1926, when you two got married. A illegal marriage but you didn’t care at all. Married at only 26 years old, both of you. He promised you’d both die together and fly up to Heaven together, be happy, safe and comfortable together in Heaven but when you died after he did, you never found Alastor

You were devastated, looking everywhere, desperate and heartbroken at being alone, and ending up being comforted by Lady Sera. Who revealed to you Alastor never arrived in Heaven… which was just proof to that that he didn’t go to Heaven but he went to Hell

You wanted to know so badly, for almost seventy years. Why he went to Hell… what did he do? You never saw Alastor commit any wrong. He was a good person, yes, wealthy and influential as a very popular Radio Host but a good man

Alastor, in reality, simply hid his true self, his psychotic ‘disorder’ from you. He had actually fallen in love with a sweet soft angel, a sympathetic harmless woman and was terrified he’d lose you, a genuinely good person, to the fact he was a serial killer… hence why you never saw nor knew how bad he actually was

How he killed every single man who came onto you , how he killed every single woman who dared to give you side eyes. He was obsessed, possessive, protective, murder-driven. Name it, he was and still is that for you

Alastor covered every single footstep and every trace of his bad doings and even when he was reported as the serial killer on the radio upon the Police taking him down… you still didn’t know because you avoided the radio, out of heartbreak pain of your husband being taken away from you and utter disbelief of what anybody said about Alastor back in Louisiana, New Orleans during your old-timey era

Being reunited with you… this beautiful moment has drowned Alastor with not only all those incredible memories of the past as a human he shared with you, but all his unhealthy, what it’s called yandere mannerisms. In an instant, he is determined to get you back at all causes and he is willing to drag you down to Hell with him

He can’t be redeemed, even if seeing you again is a huge motivation to try fix himself and pass by his sins of wrath, he’ll just make you fall through the clouds and land right into his arms after passing through the pentagram above. This is perfect… absolutely perfect and a mere second devised plan is already becoming the Overlord’s obsession

Alastor lifts up the hand combing through his hair away and kisses the top of your hand, making both yours and his heart flutter. Everything you do for one another is reminders of the past and reminders of your secret marriage. His pretty crimson red eyes look down at you before he speaks, his voice dropping the radio effect echo so his organic transatlantic accent coos out, full of love and joy

Mainly because he’s going to make you become a Fallen Angel and come live in Hell with him. You won’t be alone again and he won’t be alone again either

“I know, darling… I was never a good person and I didn’t deserve you. But I am here to change. If you give me some weeks, maybe some months. Give us that time. We’ll be together again. Just like before”

A/N: To say. What would Alastor do if he saw Angels trying to flirt with you or keep you away from him as he visits Heaven with Chaggie is that he’d be planning immense murder and destruction but he couldn’t do anything about it. Politely dragging you away from the angels to talk to you more. He wants to kill but he can’t whilst within Heaven

[howlett-n-morgan]

More Than Words

1. Familiar Stranger

Logan Howlett x OC!Reader

Series Summary: Having lived for over two hundred years and never having the privilege of skin to skin contact is the biggest burden imaginable, until someone comes along with the healing ability to withstand the touch of death.

Chapter Warnings: This might be a lot for the start of a series but: mild language, canon typical violence, mention of a witch trial, burning at the stake, death, mutant experimentation, and a depressive episode briefly described. Logan's claws come out lol... I think that's it but let me know if I missed anything.

Chapter Summary: Nightmares that were long forgotten come crawling back, seemingly without meaning, until everything falls into place with the arrival of a familiar stranger... and he gets nightmares, too.

Word Count: 6.5k

And now there was this Logan character. “Bulletproof, huh?” he didn’t seem skeptical, just unimpressed.  “And fireproof,” you added with a small smile, turning and going down the hall to find the next open room. It was the one besides yours, and yes, you absolutely did that on purpose. “Forgive me for being forward… but I think I know you.” “You know me? Doubtful.”

The X gene -  typically found in people with mutant family history - begins showing itself around the time of adolescence, usually blossoming in young teenagers. You remember the first time you realized there was something wrong with you. The year was 1780.

You were only thirteen, and were showing signs of something no one could put a finger on. The first instance was doing laundry with your cousin, Sarah, and dipping your hands into the water the same time that she did. Her hands started to burn, and she pulled her fingers from the basin quickly, only to find her hands were fine, and the water wasn’t even that hot. You thought that maybe it was a fluke, but then the second occurrence took place. 

You’d been playing near the lake with some of your friends on your twentieth birthday, when a bolt of lightning struck you. Your friends gathered nearby to see if you were alright, but were baffled completely to find you standing there as if nothing had happened. 

That was the day that time stopped, and you never grew older. 

These were things that told you there was a difference within you, but you never knew how lethal it actually was until it reached its full potential. You only wish you’d been given a warning. 

The day it all went for worse, and your life became hell, was actually a very sunny day. You woke up the same, got dressed the same, even went out back to milk the cow… but the second you touched her, she fell limp, collapsing to the ground. Your eyes widened in terror when you realized the lovely farm animal had lost her life in that split second, unable to move, or breath. 

You ran back inside to tell your mother, but you were not careful, because how could you have known it was your fault? How could you have known your body was capable of this?

Your mother laid a hand on your shoulder to comfort you, and you brought your hand to meet hers. She too fell instantly, and it was then that you realized. 

Your touch is death.

You clung to your mother, the last person you were able to touch, crying and wailing out. 

That was the first of your crimes, but many men made the mistake of coming into contact with you that day, and it stands to reason why you have been sentenced to death. Witchcraft being their assumption on your methods, and mass murder being the charge.

You almost believed them. Almost thought that something evil was possessing you, making you do wicked and unholy things… 

Standing tied to the stake by a man with thick leather gloves, all eyes were on you, waiting for your atonement. You saw every torch that was burning, closing your eyes and accepting the punishment. You killed your mother, and eleven men. There were enough witnesses to send you straight to your grave. You waited for the flames, and felt the heat when they finally set the fires, quickly approaching you. When your eyes opened, you could see the wall of fire over the hay bales, nearly ten feet tall and at every corner. It crawled up by you and then-

You sat up in your bed, sweat dripping from your brow, and the digital alarm clock going off in your peripheral vision. 

It’s just another dream… but you haven’t had it in years. 

You treat it like the rest, going about your morning like it never happened. You’d discuss it with Charles later, he seemed to know what your nightmares meant most of the time. He knew your mind better than most, and could enter with a single thought. 

Downstairs, the commotion was rowdy, but you went ahead through the crowded space carefully and slipped on your favorite pair of forest green gloves, buckling the cute straps on the back as you made your way to the kitchen. Ororo had just brewed some coffee, and Scott was carrying two plates towards the doorway when you entered. 

“Smells good,” you said, smiling at them both, and going for a mug from the cabinet. 

Scott stopped short, turning on his heel to ask you a question. 

“I forgot about this yesterday,” he started, looking over in your direction through his red shades. “Can you take a look at the School’s Enrollment system when you get a chance? I couldn’t add a new student and I’m not sure why.”

You nodded, pouring the coffee and giving him a look of confidence. “I’m sure I can fix it, probably just the computer again.”

“Thanks,” he smiled, going to leave again, but then remembering one more thing. “Oh, and Jean loves that book you lent her, she’s been up late reading.”

“I knew she would… if she wants anything else, my library is always open,” you replied jokingly.

He left afterwards, taking his plate of breakfast and his wonderful girlfriend’s out of the room. 

“You do too much, y’know?”

You looked at Ororo, her eyes just barely peeking over her own mug. 

“I like to keep busy,” you shrugged, taking a sip of the coffee and finally letting yourself settle into the morning. “And it’s not too much if I can help you guys.”

“You know that’s not what I mean… you’ve been looking exhausted.”

“Wow, thanks.”

“I’m not being critical, I’m concerned,” she said, stepping to lean against the kitchen island so she could look at you straight on. “If there’s something going on, you can tell me.”

Yes, you could tell her. She and Jean were the closest thing you’d had to a sister in years. 

“The nightmares are back again… the last few nights have been a little rough.”

She pushed away from the counter, the look on her face reading confusion and worry. “I thought you were doing better.”

“I was,” you drank more coffee, eyebrows raised. “I don’t even know where they’re coming from. Some of these dreams I haven’t had for over fifty years. Usually they’re only about…” 

“Charlie,” she finished for you when you trailed off. You nodded, your head falling forward a bit at the mention of his name. You hadn’t dreamt of him for a while, not even good things.

“I need to visit the professor after class, he can usually tell me what’s going on.”

“It’s probably best. Those dark circles will only get worse, believe me,” she joked, gesturing to her own eyes, a bit worn with exhaustion from working late this week. 

“I’ll let you know how it goes,” you spoke with a small grin, finishing off your coffee in a big chug before rinsing the mug out in the sink. “Have a good class.”

“You, too.”

-

Looking out the window of Professor Xaiver’s office, you recalled the events of your nightmare, trying to put yourself back in the situation to see it clearly. It wasn’t easy, to relive these memories, even worse when they plagued your unconscious state… but Charles would know what it was about. He always did. 

“Tell me again, first the cow, and then your mother?” He squinted, trying to put pieces together. 

“Yes, I went out to milk the cow in the morning, like always,” you paused, the green grass outside the mansion reminding you of the pastures you lived by. “I touched betsy first, then my mother inside the house.”

All the little details should have painted a very vivid picture, but for some odd reason, nothing was coming together for Charles. He couldn’t see how this dream equated with your life as it was, and why it plagued you now. 

“I’m sorry to say it, my dear, but this may just be a regular nightmare. I cannot, from what you have told me, recognize any pattern or significance.”

“There has to be something… I haven’t had this dream in years,” you argued, unwilling to give up when you know he’s the only one who can tell you. 

He paused, closing his eyes and raking through the files of your mind to try and feel the impact of a cause… but found none. “I’m afraid the only thing I can offer is a theory. Your mind is subconsciously reminding you of your powers, what they mean. You’ve long since learned to control them, so I cannot imagine it is because of self doubt. Whatever it is, you may just have to wait and watch for more signs.”

“More signs? Like more dreams?”

“Something of that sort, yes. Until then, I’m sorry I could not help you.” He rolled his chair towards the door, following you out and into the hall. He had a meeting with Hank, and couldn’t afford to miss it. 

“It’s not your fault… I’m the one who should be sorry. I’m always annoying you with problems that don’t have anything to do with you,” you joked slightly, walking alongside him until he met his destination.”

“And I am always happy to assist you.”

“I know,” you ducked your head, stopping at the door way he entered. “But I am grateful.”

“Take that gratuity and focus it on yourself. You need to rest, you look like a raccoon.”

You chuckled, closing the door for the man, and walking down towards the kitchen again. You only needed a small pick me up before you would inevitably take a very long nap. You’d been going on a few hours of sleep each night due to the grading of homework, and the bad dreams only made the nights worse. You were somehow thankful not to wake up screaming before your alarm went off this morning. 

You headed upstairs to crash, only to find a note in your room from Jean. 

Thanks for the book, I finished it today… gonna need the next one soon. - J

A small smile spread across your face when you saw the book had already been put back on your shelf, neatly placed among the organization you normally kept it in. 

Your bookshelf spanned an entire wall, nearly becoming like a second library to the mansion for whosoever needed it. 

You didn’t necessarily love reading, but you did love knowledge, and books were one of the only ways to obtain such a tricky thing. 

Truth be told, you didn’t like a lot of learning methods, but again, you craved to know everything you could, to be not only educated but able to have a brain that could stand the tests of time. So far, it’s done a pretty decent job. Having been alive for over two hundred and thirty years came with some perks, one being, you can go to college as many times as you want, with only a different ID, and practically nothing can stop you from earning as many degrees as your heart desires. 

When Charles first met you, he knew you were a mutant, but more than that, he knew you had the aptitude of a scholar. It was no wonder you excelled in his training. If only you just attained his powers of neurological exploration, there would be no stopping you. 

You flopped backwards on the bed, looking up to your wall of diplomas and degrees. Master’s in Technological Sciences, Bachelor’s in Archival History, a silly little Associate's in Music Theory, mainly because you were feeling artistic, and lastly, the certification for practicing Law in the state of New York. You didn’t even go to law school, you’d just been bored for a while in the seventies, and the bar wasn’t that hard to pass for someone that’s been around since the first laws were written into the constitution. 

All these degrees, all these years of mastering different types of knowledge, and yet you felt completely in the dark about your own mental state. You couldn’t even figure out what your own dreams meant, or why they were back in the first place.  

You passed out cold while raking your mind for possibilities, finding none along the way.

It was a dreamless sleep this time, and for that you’d be grateful, earning some uninterrupted rest for the first time in weeks, not having to worry about waking up in a panicked sweat again. 

You were supposed to take a thirty minute cat nap… maybe an hour at most. Looking at the clock as you came to, it was 6 pm, meaning two and a half hours had come and gone, and you had missed much of the after school activities.. 

“Shit,” you muttered to yourself, climbing out of the sheets and running to the bathroom to become a bit more human looking. 

You'd run down the stairs to find the usual amount of commotion, but none of the adults were here, just the kids. 

“Bobby?” You asked, making him halt his walk towards the next corridor. “Do you know where everyone is?” 

“They left about a half hour ago. Something came up,” he turned to leave but stopped throwing a line over his shoulder. “Almost forgot… they left you in charge.”

“Great,” you mumbled, nodding to him in thanks for the information. 

You were fine dealing with the kids, but being the sole adult present in a room full of on edge teenagers put you under some stress. The one person in this entire mansion that could kill someone with a single touch was left responsible for the safety of these younglings? It was a bad idea to begin with, but you took a deep breath, knowing you had to until they were back. 

You only wondered what happened that they were gone so quickly, without a chance to tell you themselves. 

The only way to control a mutant child is to just not even try, so with knowing you were now heading the household until everyone returned, you decided to just go and kick back in the main entertainment room. The more authority is pushed, the more the kids would resist. So you didn’t push at all, just started a game of uno with some of the kids. 

“This isn’t that serious, just lay down a card!” John scolded the younger girl beside him, watching her shuffle through practically half the deck that she had in her hands. 

“I have them organized, I’m looking for the blues,” Kitty explained, ignoring his futile attempts at winning faster. “If I’m gonna lose, I’m gonna take my time.”

“If you had a four or any color, that would have worked, too,” you shrugged, but ultimately let her keep shuffling through until she found a card she was satisfied with. 

“Aha, reverse. And I know you just played your last blue card,” she mocked John, watching him roll his eyes and begin to draw new cards. 

You laughed and little, seeing his deck grow bigger until he found a blue one. 

“Well, that’s uno for me,” you said, laying down a blue five and waiting for it to circle back to you again. “Sorry, John.”

“Kitty I swear, change the color,” he begged, hoping there was something that could salvage the game for him. “She’s gonna win if you don’t.”

“I’d rather let her win, then we can start over,” she gestured to the large amount of cards in her hand, completely stacked with practically every color of the deck. 

“Don’t be so competitive, it’s just uno,” you laughed, trying to lighten his mood over such a silly thing. 

“It’s not just uno, you win at everything…” he trailed matter of factly, giving you a slanted look through his eyebrows. “It’s impossible.”

“I’ve been around a while longer than you have, maybe I’ve just picked up some tricks.”

“With uno?” He scoffed, finally coming to his senses and laughing a little. 

“Maybe,” you smirk, laying down your last card and going out. “But there’s another game for ya.”

“Like I said, impossible.”

You smiled, watching them throw their hands into the pile so you could reshuffle and deal again. This may or may not have been the third game in a row. And yes, you tended to be good at the other board games kept in the entertainment room’s cabinets. 

“Wanna go four for four.?” You asked, already knowing they would play with you, though you beat them every time. 

But then you could feel something in the air, a tension that was coming from outside somewhere. You wondered if it could be a possible intrusion, so you stood up and looked out the window, the sun completely down by now. 

“What’s wrong?” Kitty asked, standing up alongside you to try and figure out what you sensed. 

It was growing, more anxious, and you realized then that it wasn’t an intruder at all, because the anxious energy was radiating off of familiar presences. 

“Something happened,” you rushed to the back door, watching as the jet landed, sinking back into the earth where it usually came up from. The basketball court  closed over top of it, and you could see the trees and grass and bushes become still when the winds calmed down. “You’ll have to play this round without me.”

“What happened? Where did they go?” 

“I don’t know, let me find out. Make sure no one burns the house down, I’ll be back.”

And you rushed to the elevator, going down beneath the mansion to find the X central base. You heard the commotion as soon as you stepped off, all things pointing to the medical bay at the end of the long lit stretch. 

Your legs carried your faster than they normally would, getting you there in seconds. 

“Scott?” you called as soon as you saw him. “What’s going on?”

“Two new mutants, one in critical condition,” he began, pointing to the outline of a man on the surgical table, Jean doing her best to work on him with the help of Ororo on the side. “The other is with Charles, he’s trying to help her calm down, but she’s pretty shaken up.” 

“Is there anything I can do?” 

“Tell the kids, make sure they don’t panic?” he offered, and you nodded. You can’t touch anyone, so it was unlikely you could aid in either of their situations currently. “Maybe leave out the part where there’s a mutant in critical condition. We still don’t even know why they were attacked.”

“Was it a human group?” You asked, eyes flitting between both corners of the med bay. The chaos was still going on, everyone’s movements were rapid, and the girl in the corner was still crying in fear. 

“No, it was them…”

“Oh,” you understood right away what he meant. Eric and his small gang of misfits that refused to coexist with the humans. They believed mutants were superior, and therefore should not have to conform to any nation’s rules or mandates. You partially understood them from a fear aspect, not wanting laws against mutants to be passed, or mistreatment of mutants for their abilities, but the way they go about it is always wrong, and harmful. They are clearly even willing to hurt other mutants to get what they want. “Are we any closer to finding them?” 

“Nope,” he sighed, scrolling through the tablet in his hands and trying to find out if the tracker he placed actually amounted to anything. He would bet not, since the signal wasn’t even coming up. “Lost ‘em in the snow…” 

“Snow?” You turned to him quickly, “where the hell did you guys go?” 

“It’s a long story, you missed it when you were napping,” he partially joked, going back to his task. “I’ll fill you in later, just go make sure the kids know we’re fine.” 

“Okay,” you nodded, turning on your heel and leaving. You didn’t run to the elevator this time, shaking off the feeling that something big was coming. You didn’t know what or why you felt it, but it was creeping up on you since you stepped off the elevator. 

-

The next morning, the entire house was buzzing with the excitement of new recruits. You’d yet to meet them, but felt their energy in and around the house, coming and going from different rooms when you started to go about your day. 

You knew that the time for introductions would come eventually, and likely when classes were over. 

Everything had been nearly the same as the day before, except Scott didn’t have a computer problem that needed solving, so you actually got done with your other work pretty quickly. You went to get the mail that Hank always just left on the entryway table, trying to sort through so you could drop it off at each person’s individual rooms. 

“Alice?” 

“Yeah?” you mumbled without turning around, hearing Jean’s voice.

“I want to introduce you to some people. These are our new guests. Rogue, and Logan.” 

You’d turned around during Jean’s introduction of the two new recruits, however short it was, like she needed to leave them with you. You understood this was a vital time for the team, and distractions weren’t welcome… but she’d only just now handed off said distraction, and boy was it one to behold. The girl was sweet looking, about fifteen if you had to guess, but the man? You look him over once and immediately you have a flash of deja vu. Dark hair, a soft grin, and pretty hazel eyes. He’s much taller than you, and you have to look up to meet his stare.

You smiled to them, giving a nod and placing your hands behind your back in the case they might want to shake one. 

“Rogue has a mutation with similar effects to yours. If she touches someone for even a few seconds, they could die.”

You furrowed your brows when looked down at the sweet girl before you. What a sad thing to share with someone. You can see her whole life ahead of her, and the things she will have to endure just as you did, and it makes you feel compassion. 

“I’m very sorry to hear that, I know how hard it can be,” you told her. She smiled and nodded this time, just as you did but in return. She seemed to be a shy thing, head dipping every so often to appear smaller than she was. 

“Could you show them the open rooms? I’ve got to be back with Charles in a moment,” Jean rushed through, seemingly pressed for time. You were only all too happy to take them off her hands. 

“Of course. Let me know what happens in there, will you?” 

She nodded, squeezing your clothed shoulder before turning on her heel and heading down the corridor. 

“So you’re like me?” Rogue asked, trying to make conversation now that she knew you had something in common. 

“A bit, yeah,” you cocked your head in one direction, getting them to follow after you. “My body is made up of a few types of radioactive energy. One is regular matter, the other is anti-matter, but the third is something completely unknown to the human or mutant race.”

“How does it work?” She followed you up the stairs, and Logan did, too. He was listening, but didn’t give off the vibe that he was interested. 

“Well, the instant I touch anyone, they die. The professor was the one who finally helped me learn to control the energy, though. Now I can use it to shield myself and others from dangerous attacks.”

“Attacks… you mean like guns and stuff? Are you bulletproof?!” 

You smiled at her endless curiosity, boundless in asking questions that you barely even knew the answers to. 

“Pretty much, yeah. Bulletproof, fireproof, everything really.”

“Whoa…” she trailed, and luckily, to stop the flow of questions, you turned down the hall and opened a door to an empty room. 

“This one’s for you,” you smiled at her and let her walk through the doorway, almost immediately becoming more settled now that she had a place to stay. “Let me know if you need anything, I’m at the end of the hall.”

“Thank you.”

A smile, and a small dip of your head as you closed the door allowed her to relax. 

And now there was this Logan character.

“Bulletproof, huh?” he didn’t seem skeptical, just unimpressed. 

“And fireproof,” you added with a small smile, turning and going down the hall to find the next open room. It was the one besides yours, and yes, you absolutely did that on purpose. “Forgive me for being forward… but I think I know you.”

“You know me? Doubtful.”

“No, I definitely know you,” you opened the door for him, but didn’t intend on leaving yet. You didn’t say anything in front of the girl, but the moments you turned around downstairs, you recognized him from somewhere. The downside of living for over two hundred years is that maybe you didn’t always remember people years down the line. “The question is, how did I meet you?” 

“Look, doll… I only have the last fifteen years of my memory, and all I really know is that I’m not human, and I can’t die either,” he paused, taking a step closer, but keeping a safe enough distance as to not make contact with the previously mentioned radioactive skin. “But even if I remembered before that, you’re too young to have met me.”

“Young?” you raised your eyebrows, not to mock or belittle him, but just shocked he would make such an assumption, especially knowing the school that he’s at right now. 

“Yeah, young. What are you, nineteen?” 

“Two hundred and thirty three this year,” you answered with a dull expression of normalcy. 

For a minute, he didn’t know if you were being serious, but upon searching your face for more indications, he found nothing that told him otherwise. 

“Really…” he reacted skeptical this time. “Got an ID?”

The joke was mildly entertaining, but if what he said was true, he wouldn't be able to tell you when or how you met. It was a dead end, and there were much more pressing matters downstairs.

“Let me know if you need anything. That's my door,” you pointed to the one beside his, and he nodded with a smirk. You absolutely did that on purpose. 

“Will do.” 

He didn’t bother you the rest of the evening, but you kind of wish he had… 

-

Your cell was cold and binding, your claustrophobic tendencies getting worse with every day you spent here. Your body was broken, your legs crumbling beneath you whenever you would try to stand. 

There was nothing you could do to help the pain, your energy was depleted from everything they took out of you, and you couldn’t even summon the strength to shield them if they come again. You know you'll die. The next time they come, opening your cage and dragging you through the halls in their self righteous futuristic looking uniforms. They always scoffed at your mistreatment. Mutants were the scum of the earth, and by torturing you and your kind, they thought they were doing mankind a favor. 

The sirens that suddenly blared in your ears brought about a sense of danger that hadn’t ever settled in the cell block before. Something that was foreign and unknown. This had never happened before. It was always silent as mutants were taken and used for their abilities, experiments falling over most of them. 

You thought that maybe the government had finally gotten ahold of Striker and his plans, ready to shut down the program and finish the job. Humans these days hated anything that was different from them, most of all the mutant race. 

You braced yourself, curling into the corner of the cage and closing your eyes. It would come any minute now. The blow of death while you were unable to shield yourself. 

You heard the cage squeak on its hinges, but there was no blow of death, only kind words from someone you've never met. 

“C'mon, get up… we're getting you out,” he said, pulling you from your feared bracing and making your eyes shoot open. Your arms and legs were bare in the clothes they gave you, meaning your skin was open to be touched. 

He grabbed at your arm, and you couldn’t even stop him… but he didn't fall, he continued to help you up, shouldering you out of the cell and onto your own two feet. By now the adrenaline kicked in, and you were able to walk through the pain, knowing this was your only shot to be free. 

“Who are you?” You asked in wonder. You met his eyes, and they were the most beautiful you think you've seen. Hazel, with gold in the middle. 

“Just someone that wants to help,” he said, letting you fend on your own now that he could feel your legs carrying you on their own. He went to help more, and you had to try and shake him from your mind just for the moment. There would come a time when you could ask questions, but now was for you to run. 

You caught up with one of the groups heading for the exit, and came across a few guards. You wondered if you even had your power anymore. That man, he touched you and survived. That's never happened before. Your skin is death, and no one escapes the reaper… 

You touched one of the guards with your open flesh and he instantly died upon contact. And that could only mean one thing. The mutant who was saving everyone was immune to your powers, and nobody else was. 

You have to find this man, but going back would almost mean certain doom for you, and you can't bring yourself to die yet. There's more life left to live. 

Once you escape the bunker, coming outside to a clearing, there waits a man in a wheelchair, rolling down from a hovering jet… and you know that jet. It belongs to-

“Charles?” You murmur, and within an instant, he was back in your head for the first time in over ten years. “Is it really you?”

“It's really me. I must look different than last time we met,” he smirked, handing you a pair of gloves and letting you lean on his chair to walk up the ramp. The others followed, and then the jet took off, no time to waste. “But you haven't changed at all.”

You collapsed into the seat closest to you, and then -

You sprung up from your pillows. 

This nightmare wasn't even a nightmare. It was still a memory, but not a bad one. It was something you tried to forget, but of course there was a single detail that could not be wiped from your memory if you tried. 

Logan.

He's the man that saved your life all those years ago. And more than that, he's the only person in the world you've met for over two hundred years that can touch you. 

It’s late, and when you turn to find that your clock says three in the morning, you hesitate… but things like this never happen, so your ability to wait until the sun at least rises is completely destroyed. You throw the sheets and comforter off your bed, and forget modesty in your haste. Wearing only the tiniest shorts from your dresser and the only clean shirt on hand, you made a quick trek from your room to the one next door. 

Knocking was out of the question, obviously. He’d be asleep, right?

When you barged in, he seemed to be having the same conundrum as you only a few minutes ago. His brows were furrowed, his mouth twisted in a look of something painful. Perhaps the very reason you were awoken from your slumber was to assist him with his… or maybe you were delusional and needed to go back to your room. 

“Logan?” you approached gently, sitting on the edge of the bed and reaching out for him. You wanted to calm him down if you could, he looked so scared in whatever dream he was having. 

He startled awake with lightning speed, his reactive senses making him sit straight up in bed, claws out and ready to attack. You yelped and fell off the bed, leaving a loud thunk on the ground. The amount of terror rushing through you suddenly left for the oddest reason. 

Looking down, your arm had been cut in three parallel lines. Not deep enough to severely wound you, but enough that you could feel the sting, and see the blood rising to the surface of the skin. You didn’t think you could bleed.

“Alice?” He calmed down, immediately worried over what he’d done. “I’m so sorry, I didn’t-”

“It’s okay,” you looked up at him, a look of utter joy on your face and he had no idea why. His confusion soared even more when instead of running from him you pulled yourself back up onto his bed, leaning closer. 

“Are you… alright? What’s going on?” 

“I remembered you. Where I met you,” you explained, getting even closer and making him nervous, considering your specific mutation he’s heard so much about. You completely forgot about your arm, leaving it for later.

“Where?” 

He was eager to remember anything about his past before the blank space. He wanted badly to know where he comes from, and if you had anything to do with how he got here. He knows it’s probably a slim chance, since you had to try hard to remember him upon his arrival.

You closed the gap and reached your hand out to his arm, and he flinched away. “Are you crazy? You could kill me.”

“No, I can’t,” you told him, watching his eyes as you finally reached again and touched his skin. He didn’t drop dead, or have any other side effects for that matter, and you breathed out in relief, a smile spreading across your face.

He was again confused, and more so shocked. His features couldn’t comprehend how this was happening if what everyone said was true. You’d killed people even accidently with the brush of an elbow, so how is he still living and breathing, your hand on his forearm?

“How did you know?” He wondered, his full focus now on what you could tell him. 

“Does the name William Striker ring a bell?” You squinted, knowing it was a longshot, but hoping he might know, anyway. 

“It sounds familiar, but I don’t recall a face or a history to go with it.”

“He gave you these,” you reached for his other hand, claws still drawn from his nightmare. “And he gave me these…”

You gestured to the scars on your legs and raised your shirt slightly so he could see the ones on your torso. All healed over by now but still reasonably protruding if you stare at them too long.

“He’d held so many mutants captive, but you set us free,” you watched as his claws retracted back into his skin, and then you took his unclenched hand. “You saved my life.”

“I don’t think that was me,” he shook his head. He doesn’t remember who he was, but he knows who he is now, and it couldn’t be that far from his past self… yet you spoke of him as though he were some caped figure with an agenda for fighting bad guys. “I don’t do things like that.”

“Logan,” you huffed, unwilling to let him negate himself, especially when you’ve waited all these years to talk to him again, to give him the gratitude you felt he deserved. “I have been alive for over two hundred years. During that time I have been all over the world, met as many mutants as there are stars in the sky… and not one could touch me, until you. I know it was you who saved me.”

“I’m no hero, kid…” he shook his head, his eyes falling to the cuts on your arm, the blood getting thicker and threatening to run down the expanse of your arm and onto your shirt. 

“You were to me,” you smiled sweetly. “You saved my life that day… and so many other mutants. Scott being one of them, he just doesn’t remember.”

“I saved Scott?” he cringed, and you laughed, having gotten notes of their instant rivalry in the energy around the mansion. 

“Yes, you did… and I never got to thank you for it, so… thank you.”

He nodded, still unsure of this past exchange and how much he had to do with it. You clearly remembered being helped by him. Enough so that you were willing to bet his life on whether or not he could touch you. He feels bad, now, seeing the red begin to run down your arm, he certainly doesn’t feel like a hero, and his actions don’t show him being one, either… but he can do something about that.

“Can I help you with that?” He pointed to the bloody open wound, which had been ignored until now. 

“I’ll take care of it, it’s not too bad.”

“No, I wanna do it… I’m the one that put it there,” he sighed when he stood up from bed, going into the hall and finding the bathroom. He’d seen a first aid kit in there somewhere. 

When he comes back he looks clueless on how to even open the box. 

“It has a child lock on it, lemme see,” you reached, and he batted your hands away softly, figuring it out himself. 

“I’m not a child,” he retorted dryly, reaching into the box and finding the proper supplies. 

He did decently, you’d have to say. Started with the cleansing wipes, then moved on to the antibacterial treatment and gauze wraps. Finished it off with a good layer of medical tape, securing it with a soft movement of his hands. They looked rough, but had been nothing but gentle. 

“You do this a lot?” You asked, wondering if perhaps it might trigger a memory. 

“Not to myself, and not to anyone else I can remember.”

“Well you did a good job.”

He nodded in thanks, and you went to stand up. Going back to your room seemed like the thing to do, and you wanted to let him get back to sleep.

“You don’t have to go, if you don’t want to.” His words halted you in your step, making you sit back on the bed where you’d been since arriving, minus the brief trip to the floor. “I usually don’t sleep after…”

“Nightmares?” Your soft question had him giving a small dip of his head, slightly embarrassed. “I get 'em, too. Not usually so much as lately, but I get 'em.”

And when he reached for your hand, giving it a gentle squeeze, you had no longing to go back to bed. You’d stay up the rest of the night with this man to ensure he didn’t let go of you. It was here that you decided he could touch you for a reason, and you weren’t going to let it go to waste. 

Tags: open

[thebestofoneshots]

Gilded Constellations | (wolfstar x reader)

Series Masterlist | Previous episode

Pairing: Wolfstar x Reader Word Count: 7.3 K Warnings: The angst is still angsting Prompt: Vixen feels like she needs to run away but, Where to? How? This IS a Wolfstar x reader fic, but it's incredibly slow burn. They won't start all dating each other until we're very deep into the story, but I promise the long wait will be worth it Proofread by Lovely @aremuslupinsimp

Chapter 54: Sail Away Sweet Sister

Sail away sweet sister Sail across the sea I know you'll find somebody To love you as much as me

Your heart drummed in your ears as you ran upstairs. Taking the suitcase you’d brought and quickly filling it up with some of the clothes you’d left scattered around. Your coat was downstairs, so you took one of Remus’ fluffiest sweaters and put that on top of one of yours. 

Whatever you did, you couldn’t stay, because then you might run to Sirius’ arms and tell him all you said was a lie, that you loved him –because you did– and that you dreaded the idea of not being with him, which was also true. Your stomach was so twisted you had to swallow your will to puke at least once as you put whatever you found inside your suitcase. 

What the hell have I done? you wondered, as you remembered what you’d said to Sirius, as you remembered using something like charmspeak on Remus. No, it wasn’t like it, it had been it. You had seen your mother use it before, she had told you how it felt to use it, and your grandma had talked about the terrible thing it was, as powerful and disarming as imperius. And then you had gone and used it on your best friend. On the person that you’d left your boyfriend for, no matter how you saw it, you were awful. 

Even if you hadn’t meant to do it, even if you didn’t even know you could. You had manipulated –forced– him into leaving you crying on the stairwell and going with Sirius instead. He hadn’t had a say in it, he just mindlessly followed your stupid instructions. It made you feel even worse about the entire situation. You were still crying, hands trembling as you forced shut your suitcase and held it with one hand. You had pulled out Nina’s wand. You had never used it, and you didn’t want to do it either, but you weren’t about to leave the house without any means of producing magic, so you had carefully taken it out of the back drawer and stared at it for a second before shoving it in your shirt and finishing your task.

You looked around, the wonderful and lovely place you had been staying at and almost felt sorry for yourself. But you knew Remus and Sirius had to be alone with each other if they would sort things out and therefore you had to leave. 

But where to? 

You couldn’t go back to your house, you couldn’t go back to Remus’ house, and you couldn’t go back to the school without sending a note first. You took a deep breath. A place where you could do magic if necessary without being detected by the ministry, a place where you could get a new wand, a place where you could get the stuff you needed for school. Diagon. 

You had just stood up from the bed when you heard a faint knock on the door. 

Remus was completely disoriented by the time he reached the kitchen. Sirius was curled up on the floor, his head hidden in between his knees and quietly sobbing. Remus turned back to look at the stairs, but you were not there anymore. He swallowed, he wasn’t sure why he’d left, but he suspected what it might have been. You had always been charming, but you had never charmed anyone. Not like that, but it would make sense that you had such an ability, especially after being in close contact with fae things, not only the fruit his mother had given you but also the fae pool.

Either way, he didn’t even have time to process it properly, he was torn, should he stay with Sirius or should he run behind you? There was no easy choice, there was no right choice. He hesitated on the door for a second, and it was Sirius’ quiet sob that had him kneel down next to his friend. He’d talk to Sirius and then the two would talk to you, simple. He placed his hand on the boy’s shoulder. 

Sirius raised his head, hopeful, “Vi–” he started, and then he noticed who was on the other side. “Moony,” he breathed.

Sirius could tell he was worried, Moony looked at him with such a heavy look of concern, his brows almost touching from how deep his frown was. And yet he looked beautiful. Sirius felt horrible, how could he look at Moony and think of how incredible he was when you had just broken up with him for that same reason?!

“What happened?” Remus asked, kneeling down next to Sirius and shutting the door with a simple wave of his hand so no one would walk into the kitchen. He moved one of Sirius’ curls behind his ear to look at his face better. His beautiful eyes were red-rimmed, and his long lashes stuck to one another from the tears he’d shed. 

Sirius sobbed, he didn’t even know where to start. “I think…” he stammered, chest tight at the mere thought of it. “She broke up with me.” 

“What?!” Remus asked in disbelief. If there was something he was sure of, it was how much you loved each other. He was also feeling incredibly high levels of despair and anguish now. He was not expecting your break-up to be so harrowing for him. After all, if you were both single then that would mean he had a chance with at least one of you. 

But he didn’t care about chances, he didn’t care about being with either of you if you couldn’t be with each other. He had seen the pain in your eyes, he had seen the hurt in Sirius’, there was no way you had done it willingly.

“Maybe it’s a prank, an awful prank but a prank. Maybe someone’s forced her to–” 

“No,” Sirius mewled. “It was me, I fucked up.” His voice broke near the end of his sentence and he covered his face with his hands. “I ruined everything!” 

Remus’ gaze softened as he sat next to Sirius and started playing with his hair in the same reassuring way he had seen you do plenty of times, which just made Sirius’ sobbing increase. He loved and he hated that he did. Remus frowned, “Sirius–” 

“I fell in love with someone else,” Sirius admitted in a whisper. 

Remus’ hand stopped moving entirely. The sorrow and pain he felt for Sirius had turned into shock. With someone else? Something bubbled up inside him, he felt his muscles tense and his gaze harden. If Sirius had fallen for someone and you had found out about it, then he had broken your heart. Your already feeble fucking heart. Remus wasn’t sad anymore, he was furious. There was a growing hostility inside of him, because Sirius had fallen for someone else and in the process he had hurt you. He’d seen the tears streaming down your cheeks, he’d seen your red and puffy eyes, you had cried and it had been Sirius, of all people, the one that caused it. 

“And you told her?” Remus reproached, voice a little louder, judging. “You know what she went through in Christmas you–” 

“Of course, I didn’t fucking tell her!” Sirius retorted, borderline angry, he’d never been good at keeping his temper. “She figured it out, she’s always been clever like that.” 

“How could you?” Again, it was that judging gaze, Remus was frowning and leaning away from Sirius.  

Sirius noticed and huffed, “It wasn’t just me. We weren’t exactly subtle about it.” 

“You and who, Sirius?” Remus asked, he could barely hold back the expression of disgust. He loved Sirius but hurting you was crossing the line. “You cheated on her?” 

“Of course not! You and me!” Sirius responded, pointing at the two.

Remus froze again. Anger dissipated into confusion, his breath caught in his throat as Sirius’ stunning grey eyes fixated on his. “What…” Remus stuttered, mouth trembling as he thought of the words he needed to say next “What do you mean you and me?” 

Sirius huffed again and bit his lip before speaking, “She seems to be under the impression that you like me, Remus.” 

“That’s–” Remus’ breath was heavy, he was struggling to think properly, his head was all over the place. What did all of it mean? “Even if I did, she shouldn’t have broken up with you just because of that!” 

Sirius let out a pained sort of laugh, “She figured I–” he was cut off by his own sharp intake of breath, he exhaled, “She figured I liked you back.” 

Remus was barely processing the words that came out of Sirius’ mouth. His best friend, his everlasting crush, had just admitted how much he liked him and rather than feeling happy about it, he was feeling sorrow for you. 

“You’re an idiot!” 

“I know,” Sirius said simply. 

“How could you fall for someone else when you had her?” 

Oh– Hadn’t he done the same? Granted he’d never dated either of you, but he had fallen for both. 

“I’m sorry,” Sirius sobbed. “I didn’t even know I liked men until–” he averted his gaze, eyes trickling with tears as he tried to speak again. “She taught me it was possible to like both.” 

“And you fell in love with a man shortly after,” Remus reproached. He might have been the man, but it didn’t make it any better for you. 

“She said she didn’t love me anymore, she said she stopped loving me the minute she figured I liked you.” 

“I doubt that’s true,” Remus said honestly. He’d seen the way you looked at each other, he’d seen the love in both of your eyes. 

“It’s bullshit, I could tell!” 

“And why didn’t you go after her?” 

“You don’t understand,” Sirius said. “She’s stupid self-righteous. She’s not going to come back, not as long as she knows about us.” 

“There is nothing between us!” 

Sirius turned to him, his eyes still red and teary, but looking at Remus with a sort of accepting gaze, he let out a long breath. “We wouldn’t be in this situation if that were true.” 

He looked beautiful, even when his world was crumbling apart and had enough tears streaming down his face to fill oceans. It was ridiculous how much Remus could hate what he had done, and yet love him just the same. How could he hate him for hurting you, when Sirius had done it by doing the one thing he had hoped of him for years? 

Remus was hesitant as he leaned onto him, his hand heavy as he placed it on Sirius’ cheek, he wiped one of his tears and Sirius closed his eyes, basking in the calm and warmth that Remus’ touch brought. It had always been calming in some sort of way, but it had never been as soothing as that day. Remus leaned close to Sirius, close enough to feel his breath fan his face, he was about to kiss him, that kiss he’d longed for ages, but he stopped and pulled back. 

“We go, and we talk to her,” he said as he stood up, and pulled Sirius along with him. 

“What?” Sirius said confused, trying to wipe the tears with his hands, making his face grow redder with how harsh he was being. 

Remus was tempted to pull Sirius’ hands from his face but decided that maintaining a decent distance between the two would be better. “We tell her she’s wrong. We tell her I don’t like you, however the hell she might have gotten that idea. And you tell her you were confused and we’ve talked and–” 

“She won’t buy it.” 

“Sirius.” 

“You wouldn’t buy it if I told you I didn’t like her, Remus!” 

The former was taken aback, Sirius’ words meant a lot more than they let on: he liked both of them in equal amounts. But Remus was too distracted to listen to it, his breath short as he kept racking his brain for a solution, anything to have the both of you smiling again. 

“I barely know how she didn’t notice earlier, for fucks sake, I’ve drawn you none stop lately, I’ve been wearing your clothes as much as she does, we fucking sleep together every other night–” 

“That’s for Moony…” 

“Is it, though? Is it really for Moony? After the moon? After he accepted Vixen?” 

The three of you knew it wasn’t for Moony anymore, but neither would have dared to say it, Sirius might have been the only one brave enough. 

“There must be a way. We need to talk to her Sirius… we– I’ll step out of the way,” tears pricked in Remus’ eyes. It was hard to accept what had happened, he sighed. “I’m the one that got in between.” 

Sirius looked at Remus with a sort of understanding that only two people in the same situation could have for each other. “I’m as much to blame as you are.” 

There was a moment of silence, nothing other than each other’s breath was heard, the gentle and yet ragged way in which their breathing synchronised would have been romantic if they weren’t both close to falling apart. 

“We’ll show her then.” 

“What?” 

“We don’t try anything, I go back to Alice or whomever and when she realises I’m not interested then she’ll come back to you, guilt-free and–” 

“Remus,” Sirius interrupted. “For how long?” 

“How long what?” 

“How long have you liked me?” 

Remus’ gaze hardened. There was no easy answer. “It wouldn’t matter if I had a longer claim than she does–” 

“Longer than we dated?” 

Remus hesitated, looking anywhere but at Sirius until he had enough strength to turn back. Those piercing grey eyes, he couldn't lie to them anymore. “Probably since before you met her,” he admitted. “I didn’t know what it was until we kissed.” 

“Ugh, I’m so blind!” Sirius complained as he hid his face between his hands again. He remembered that kiss, it had been a wonderful kiss. Of course, he didn’t even think how gay that was until now. He turned to Remus again. “Why didn’t you say anything?” 

“You were dating any girl that winked at you, Sirius. I thought you were the straightest person I knew. I mean I would have thrown my money on James being queer before I threw it on you! Either way, it doesn’t matter, I didn’t say anything and I still wouldn’t have said anything, I’d never want to come in between. I’m sure I’ll get over it and–” 

“If you didn’t get over it for 2 years, Remus…” 

“Well, I don’t care! Sirius, she’s barely holding herself together after Christmas, you’ve seen her!” 

“I’m the worst boyfriend in the world,” Sirius sighed. 

“We should talk to her,” Remus said, “We have to go talk to her now!” 

“And say what, exactly?” 

“I don’t know, I don’t care, but we lock ourselves in a room and we don’t leave until we’ve talked this through. The three of us.” 

Sirius was hesitant, he wasn’t sure Remus’ solution would work. He didn’t see a way in which you could just talk it through. He had fallen in love with someone else, he had broken your heart, and he didn’t think there were enough words in the world to fix it. Not when you still loved him and had decided to move out of the way, for Remus and for him. 

Not when you thought, with such fallacious certainty that the only way in which either Remus and Sirius would be happy, was with each other and away from you. Sirius gulped and turned to Remus with a meek, almost begrudging nod. 

Remus handed Sirius a napkin and he was quick to wipe the track of his tears with it. 

“It’s obvious I’ve been crying,” he swallowed. “If anybody sees us…”

“Stand next to me,” Remus said before casting a Disillusionment Charm over his friend. Sirius hesitated before he leaned closer to Remus, he hated how good it felt to be able to stand this close to him, he hated that he kept thinking of how well Remus smelled and how incredible he was at handling these kinds of situations. The absolute reverence he felt for him was so akin to love that he felt he was betraying you, even while he was desperate to fix things, to hug you and pray for forgiveness until his throat was sore and you promised you’d take him back.

The two of them walked side by side, shoulders brushing against each other constantly, Sirius wasn’t sure if Remus was standing so close to him on purpose, if that was how it went with men. Sirius had never dated a man before, he had no idea what such relationships entailed, and he had no idea if Remus stood so close to him because of that or if it was because of how concerned he was. Knowing Remus, it might have been the latter. 

And it was, Remus was standing close to Sirius to remind himself that this was real. That it wasn’t a dream, that Sirius liked him back and that it was about the worst possible time for him to figure it out. But he was also there because he wanted to be there for Sirius, he wasn’t sure he’d seen him cry like that since he got kicked out of his house, and he hadn’t even been there, but rather it had been James the one that sent him a letter with the details of the situation before he took the Floo to the Potters. Perhaps the one time he had seen Sirius as upset as he was today, was after the incident with Severus, but back then, Remus had been so angry at him that he had done almost the exact same thing that you’d done to Sirius earlier. 

He had left him crying, alone. This time around, he hadn’t been the wronged one, but he had been on the wrong-doing side. And no matter how guilty he felt for it, how guilty the two of them felt for falling in love, there was still a magnetism that pulled them together like the wind called on the waves and like the stars called in the sky. 

This time around, Remus was determined to be a supportive friend, not only for Sirius but for you as well. It didn’t matter if he had to bear seeing the two of you together again, in fact, after seeing both of your reactions to what had happened, he wasn’t sure there was anything he wanted more. Or… perhaps deep down, a greedy part of him did. A selfish part of him could see one outcome that would make him the happiest man alive, but of course that was a dream. So unrealistic and ridiculous that he wouldn’t even dare speak it aloud. 

It would make him sound too selfish, too greedy, like the men who wanted to have it all and at the end of the story, ended with nothing, as atonement for asking too much of the world. Icarus, Midas, Macbeth, Dorian Grey; all their stories, their lives, they all ended despondently. 

Remus had always been coolheaded, and though he liked to think he was realistic, he often veered towards pessimism, and there was nothing more pessimistic going through the exact same thought process you had gone through. To step out of the way to make the other two happy. 

Sirius was still standing close to Remus, almost behind him, when Remus leaned over the door and knocked on the door. There was no answer, he knocked again, a little louder this time, and then placed his hand on the doorknob. The door creaked open, and they both looked inside. The bed was messy, your clothes were gone, and they had left along with you.

The knock on the door had been none other than Effie. She’d found you crying with Nina’s wand in your hand. You tried to wipe the tears away when she walked in, but it had been too late, she’d seen them, and she’d seen your luggage. 

She frowned and approached you slowly. “Darling, are you okay?” 

You swallowed, your breathing was hard, and your face was slightly scrunched up as you shook your head in response. She crossed the room in an instant and wrapped you in her arms. She was taller than you, and she held your face to her collarbone as she brushed her hand over your head. It was such a kind and motherly gesture, that you couldn’t help but shed tears again. 

It’s not that you would have gone straight to your mother in a situation like this, but it was the fact that you couldn’t, even if you wanted to, that had upset you even further. She was kind and soft, she was gentle as she brushed her hand over your hair and made a soft, shooing sound for you, almost like the ocean. 

“I–” you floundered, “need to leave.” 

She pulled back to look at you, she had a similar expression of concern as the one Remus had given you. “Darling, you can stay for as long as you want–”  

“No,” you interrupted, voice soft but determined. “I have to, Effie. Please.” 

She took a deep breath and licked her lips before focusing her face on you, “Why?”

“It’s complicated.” 

“You’re not leaving until you tell me.” 

You took a deep breath, your gaze cast downwards before you uttered the strength to say your next words, “I broke Sirius’ heart.” It was the truth, and you felt your own heart shatter with the realisation. It’s for the best, you thought. I must do it, for them. 

Effie looked at you, first confused and then, almost reproachingly. As if you hurting Sirius –her son– had changed the entire idea she had of you. But she had also seen the way you looked at Sirius and therefore, was more confused than angry. 

“What?” 

“Please, Effie. You said you’d help,” your voice was slow, broken. “I can’t see him again, not now. Not until we’ve both processed–” 

“You should talk instead.” 

“No,” you said again, just as determined as last time. “I can’t talk, or I will make it worse, so much worse. I’ve already made it bad enough. I’ll owe you one.” 

Effie bit her lip, “Where will you go?” 

“Diagon.” 

“You have anyone there?” 

“A friend of my mother,” you lied. She squinted her eyes at you, as if she didn’t quite believe you. But you had already lied that day, you had already told Sirius the biggest lie of your life and therefore, these smaller ones came out as simply and naturally as flying did to you. 

“We’re not close, but I’m sure he’ll take me, at least until school starts.” 

“Are you sure?” 

“I’ll write to you when I’m there.” 

Effie took a deep breath, a strong, wise part of her told her that she had to force you to stay, to talk to Sirius and to fix things, rather than run away. But she wasn’t sure you would, even if you stayed. Not with everything that had happened to you, not with everything that you’d gone through. She shook her head as if reproaching herself for the decision she’d made and then looked at you. “Okay.” 

You held back a sob, “Thank you.” 

She placed her hand behind your back and pulled you outside of the room. You heard a set of steps climbing up the stairwell on the right, but Effie was quick enough to walk the two of you inside a room, shutting the door shortly after. You heard the soft murmuring of Sirius and Remus as they knocked on the door of the other room, and you turned to Effie urgently.

She had taken you into her study. She had a lard chimney behind her desk. 

“If you don’t write, I’ll find you,” she said, it was something between a threat and a promise.

“Don’t tell them where I am.”

“I won’t,” she reassured as she handed you the bag with Floo powder. 

You took some in your hand and threw it on the chimney. The flames turned green and grew as you said “Diagon.”

You were about to step into the fire when she stopped you, she placed a hand on your shoulder. “Don’t run away.” 

You froze. You had been running, from your pain and from your problems and if you stopped they’d caught up with you and then you weren’t sure you’d be able to cope, you’d fall apart. You turned to her, there were tears in your eyes. “Thank you, Effie. I’ll owe you one for the rest of our lives.” 

She stared at you sadly. She had seen how distressed you were, she had felt it too. Emotions so strong they were perceived even by others, she had heard of that kind of magic, but she had never experienced it, not with sadness and sorrow, at least. 

“Is she here?” Sirius asked, voice on edge as he hastily opened the door. Remus stood behind him, equally pale.

“Who, darling?” Effie asked as if she didn’t know exactly what Sirius had meant.

The flames spit you out into the middle of Diagon, there was still light. You wiped the tears from your eyes and walked straight towards the one place you knew you’d be able to stay at: The Leaky Cauldron. There were a few witches and wizards sitting on the different tables, most of them looking worse for wear. There was a man with a very large bird in the corner. It wasn’t an owl, or an eagle, or anything you had seen on magical creatures and where to find them, but the bird cawed at the man until he threw him a piece of his steak. 

There was an old lady reading tarot to a man in one of the corners and she turned to you with a sinister smile, “5 sickles and I’ll tell you your destiny, pretty girl.”  

“Thank you, mam. But I don’t do readings.” 

“You don’t believe in the power of the cards?” 

“I have seen the power of them,” you admitted in a serious tone. 

She pulled your hand to hers with a sharp movement. Her grip was hard, and even as you tried to pull back she held you in place. 

“Do you want the good or the bad news?” She asked as she tilted her head to you.

“I said I don’t want any news,” you responded sharply. You didn’t like random strangers manhandling you, no matter how old and feeble-looking they might be. You considered taking out your wand but the last thing you wanted was to call more attention to yourself. Not to mention, you didn’t have a wand, and you had never tried to use Nina’s. You tried to pull your hand again and she tutted. 

“I’ll give you a free reading, just because of how upset you seem.” 

“I don’t–” 

“You’ll find love soon.” 

You scoffed, laughing at her words in a mocking-like, bitter manner, if you hadn’t done that, perhaps you would have cried.

“A lot of love, it seems to me here that two boys–” 

“Stop!” you interrupted angrily. “I said I didn’t want readings. And you’re absolutely terrible at it anyway. Find love? Yeah, sure,” you scoffed. “There are higher chances for me to find a terrible, uncalled-for dеath, than there are for me to find love again. Now, please,” it did not sound like a request, “give me my hand back.” 

She let go of your hand as she cocked her head to the side with a curious gaze. “You seem lost child, I can help you find yourself.” 

“I know exactly where I am, thank you,” you said as you pulled your hand away from her sharply. You were sure one of her nails had scratched you by the stinging sensation in your hand. You were quick to turn around and walk towards the back counter of the pub where they had a small sign that claimed they had available rooms. 

The woman shook her head as she saw you leave and turned to the friend next to her. “You saw it too, right?” 

The man in front of her nodded. “She’ll have a surprise when she figures it out.” 

“Poor thing, so bitter and yet so young,” responded the witch.

“She might be having a bad day,” said the man with a shrug as he pulled another card from the deck and placed it on the table. 

You rolled your eyes and quickened your pace towards the counter. Once you reached, a tall, slightly imposing man gave you an impassive look. “I’d like a room.” 

“How old are you?” 

“Old enough to rent a room,” you responded. “I’ll stay here for the rest of the week and pay in advance.” 

The man scoffed and nodded, handing you a key when you handed him enough Galleons to cover for your stay and then some. “Madam Rim will show you to your room,” he said and nodded towards a small woman sleeping in a chair in the corner. 

You approached her carefully and said her name a couple of times before she trembled and turned to you with an angry gaze. The man on the counter snickered when you jumped at her angry look. One of her eyes was completely black, and you weren’t sure if she could actually see you with it. Then when she closed it, it was like that of a reptile. 

“Why have you awoken me, child?” Her breath was foul, and you tried to keep the disgust you felt away from your face so as not to piss her off further. 

“I was told you’d bring me to my room.” 

She rolled her eyes, or well, her one eye, and then turned to you again, “Number?” 

“Thirteen,” you said after checking your keys.

“What a terrible omen,” she responded as she stood up, you would have sworn you heard her bones creak as she did. Her back was hunched from age and she looked like the kind of woman muggles would call a witch. In fact, you might have seen her on the cover of one of those children’s books at the Muggle Library. 

“Now, that,” you remarked. “Is a prediction that I’d believe in.” 

She turned to you with a confused and judging sort of gaze and then motioned for you to follow behind her. She guided you through a long set of stairs and then to a corridor, she stopped in front of a door and motioned towards it. “Your room.” 

“Thank you,” you said with a nod and placed the key on the lock.  You turned but the door wouldn’t budge. She was almost at the end of the hall when you called. “Madam Rim, I think I got the wrong key.” 

She shook her head, “Just push a bit more, it gets stuck often.” 

You sighed but did what told, twisting the door and pushing again. Nothing happened. Madam Rim had already left, and you were stuck outside of your room. You left the suitcase you’d been carrying on the floor and attempted to push again but it didn’t work either. 

You groaned, exasperated and tried once more, this time leaning all of your weight on your shoulder, but the door opened before you even touched it and you stumbled inside the room, your head would have hit the bed pole if you hadn’t used your hand to stop your fall. “Fuck.” 

“Ah,” you complained, looking at your hand. You tried to move it but it hurt, which had you wince in pain as you walked out of the room, grabbed the suitcase, and then walked back inside, closing the door with unnecessary force. It was like the fucking universe was trying to play a joke on you, the door had bounced back and you’d barely had enough time to get out of the way before getting hit. 

“Stupid fucking door,” you mumbled as you shut it again, this time being more gentle and pushing it slowly into the frame. When it finally shut, you sighed and walked back to the bed. You’d left the suitcase over the sheets, and that’s when you spotted the keychain Effie had given you. You looked at it and whispered “Green.” Suddenly the sand inside the small hourglass changed into green. Effie would know you were alright with that.

The room was old and worn, but it didn’t look dirty. You let yourself fall on the bedsheets and winced when your hand touched the mattress. You pulled your hand up, looking at it and trying to move it while you frowned. It hurt, it hurt like a bitch, and you still couldn’t compare it to how much more it had hurt to leave Sirius. 

I’m going to need a potion for this, you thought as you pushed the suitcase off the bed and accommodated yourself. It might have gotten a dent but frankly, you didn’t care. You let your hand fall again and groaned when it hurt just the same as before. There was a big window that allowed the waning afternoon light inside. You didn’t want to think, so you pulled Nina’s wand and pointed towards them. Surely you could perform a simple spell with it…

Instead, the chair next to the window flew towards you and smashed onto the bed pole. You sat on the bed and looked at the shreds with shock, instantly leaving Nina’s wand on the side, so fast it was as if it had burned you. You threw yourself back in the bed and sighed.

“I will also need another wand,” you said as you stared at the intricate details of the bed’s canopy. You stayed like that, thinking– or rather, just staring mindlessly at the squares and circles, and at the shadows cast by the low light that still came from the window. You must have dozed at some point, since the next thing you knew, it was dark. The shadows had grown so much that they were enveloping you almost entirely. You sighed, the temperature had diminished severely. 

For all you cared, you would have fallen asleep and gotten swallowed by the cold. But you had almost frozen to dеath a little while ago and something told you that it would be a terrible idea not to, at least, turn on the fire to warm the room. You had felt what freezing was like, the violent shivering that left you sore and aching the following day, you were not eager to feel like that again. 

The boys slept without any heating most of the time, and it didn’t bother you at all since you had always had them to warm you through the night. But today you’d be alone, and you’d be alone until you got back to school, so catching a cold for being too careless and indolent to turn on the fire was not an option. 

You considered taking Nina’s wand and using that to light up the fireplace, but you remembered what had happened with the chair, the shreds of it still all over the floor, and you decided you didn’t want to risk burning the entire place down. The last thing you needed was people realising you were in two places with a fire –in which you would have actually been the cause of both– and deeming you an arsonist. 

You sighed before leaning up, and wincing when you realised your hand had not gotten much better during the snooze you’d had. When you finally got up the bed you realised you had a bit of a runny nose –probably from the cold– and sniffed before getting to the bathroom and blowing your nose quickly. You stared at yourself in the mirror for a second. You looked terribly doleful, unhappy. You washed your teeth before walking back into the room and sitting on the wooden floor next to the fireplace. 

They had some kind of warming charm on them since they didn’t feel nearly as cold as they should have and then you spent at least a quarter of an hour trying to turn the fire on with wandless magic. You had never tried Incendio wandlessly before, and it had been bIoody hard. When eventually you did manage to get the flame going, you threw some old newspaper to liven it up, sighed and leaned in a little closer. 

It’s not nearly as warm as they are, you thought bitterly. But they might be warming each other now, as they should be. You didn’t want to be away from the warmth of the flames, so rather than moving back to the bed, you stayed crouched next to them and dug your head inside the jumper. It was Remus’ but Sirius had pinched it and it smelled so much like him, like the two of them, that you started to cry.

Thick hot tears streamed down your cheeks and dampened the sinfully soft fabric of the jumper. Your lips were dry and tasted like salt, and you cried, and cried, over everything that had happened so far. This time you knew there would be no one to bother you, that nobody would find you crying and that no one would ask if you were alright. In a way, you were glad that you didn’t have to hold back your tears anymore. No more fear of being found crying, of being thought of as weak, even if every tear you shed was more than justified. 

But there was still that selfish part of you that dared to wish you weren’t alone, that dared hope that you hadn’t left, that you had continued pretending you didn’t know and that you were cuddling with Sirius and Remus, rather than sitting by yourself in the middle of a small inn. 

Eventually, in your reluctance to move away from the flames, you decided to sleep there, and you turned into Vixen, but you took off Remus’ jumper off first and once you were a fox, you used your snout to find the bottom hem and slip inside of it, limping a little as you did. It was warm, and it smelled delightful. If you closed your eyes, you could almost pretend you weren’t in a lonely inn, but rather curled up in one of James’ soft beds, right on top of Remus’ chest, and with Padfoot’s snout pushing you as he too tried to get some chest space to rest his head on.

Perhaps once the boys sorted what they had to sort out, you could go back to cuddling them, maybe you could use the next full moon as an excuse. Once they were settled into their own relationship, and once things with Sirius went back to normal –or as normal as they could possibly be after what had happened.

When you woke up, it was because of a small, knocking on the glass. You were not on the first floor, so you shook your head, stirring inside Remus’ sweater before limping outside of it and peering at the room. The fire had almost gone out, but you were still warm, and the thing you’d heard on the window was nothing other than Reese, tapping his beak against the glass.

You turned back into yourself and stretched as you walked towards the window, unlocking the small hook at the top and pushing it open for Reese to come inside, your hand hurt as you did, so you had to manoeuvre it with only one of them. “Hey little one,” you said softly, you then realised he had something tied to his feet. 

You hesitated before untying and unrolling the small piece of parchment. 

He was flying frantically while looking for you today, he thought you’d abandoned him. Where the hell did you go off to, Vix? I know it has to do with Sirius, he looked upset, and he was whispering about with Remus all night too.  He might be my brother but if he did something to you, I’ll punch him for it. Mum told everyone you were feeling sick and that that was the reason you left early. Sirius and Remus seemed confused at it, but they don’t know Mum like I do, I knew she knew something. I went straight to her and asked her. She said it wasn’t her place to tell me what had happened and that I should ask you myself.  Problem was, I obviously had no fucking idea where you’d gone to. She didn’t want to tell me, but I can be very convincing you know that already. Don’t worry, I haven’t told Sirius and Remus, if they don’t tell me what’s going on, well then I won’t tell them the information I’ve gathered by myself. I assumed Reese would be able to find you, wherever in Diagon you had gone off to and decided to send my little note through him.  I know you’ve been upset lately. You should come back, I can send Sirius away with Remus if you want, I think it’s a bad idea for you to be alone now. Especially with everything that’s going on, but at the end of the day, it's your choice. You better fucking write me every day though, I’m worried sick. You are also like a sister to me. You know that, right? Anyway, I expect to hear from you today, or I might just go to Diagon and drag you back myself, don’t test my patience. Love, Prongs

Sirius and Remus were whispering about all night, that was good, that was great, it meant they were talking. It meant they would be together and then, once Sirius forgot about his infatuation with you –as if he could ever– he and Remus could be happy and you’d be able to talk to them both again, and things would be all right. 

You really did believe that to be a possibility, or at least you were desperate to believe in it, you couldn’t see the alternatives, let alone the answer that the entire world had been screaming at you. In the whispers of the mermaids kissing each other, in the loud teasing voices of the ghosts, in the eyes of the old hag that read you your destiny but that you were too obdurate to actually listen to. You looked through the drawers of the old room and found some parchment and a quill. You quickly scribbled something for Prongs. You had to write with your non-writing hand and the letters came askew, but you couldn’t exactly use a spell to fix them, so you tried your best to at least make it readable. 

I’m all right. Don’t worry about me. Sirius did nothing, it was me. I’m sorry if I ruined our trip, I was having lots of fun but it had to be done. I’ll send you notes every day, but it can’t be through Reese, or they’ll figure it out. 

You bit your lip thinking of a solution to the problem when you remembered the keychain that Effie had given you. Protean charm, you thought. That was the answer. But there was no way in hell you managed to perform a charm of the sort without your wand, let alone with Nina’s wand that seemed to refuse to work with you, so you’d have to buy something.

I have a plan, I’ll get us a way of communicating by the end of the night. I’ll send Reese to your rooftop, he’ll hide behind the chimney.  Thank you for caring, Prongs. I also think of you as a brother.  Love, Vix

You wrapped the small note on Reese’s feet, cursing as a jolt of pain hit your entire arm for forcing your wrist and sent him off, promising to get him something to eat by the time you came back with a new wand and something to charm.

Sail away sweet sister My heart is always with you No matter what you do I'll always be in love with you

Series Masterlist | Next Chapter

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A/N: I questioned myself for making them suffer so much while revising this chapter. Some of Sirius' words are just heart wrenching to me, I swear <3

Read more Marauders Fiction

[mvltisstuff]

hi!! could you possibly do a one-shot where buck and reader are flirting during the dosed episode? like they get high and are handcuffed and are just giggling and flirting and then accidental confession or something and then the next day they’re just like “i’m pretty sure we’re dating now..” thank you so so much!! this idea just made me giggle so <33

you get me so high - e.b

summary: request

evan buckley x reader

gif does not belong to me

a/n: i adore this idea, thank you for sharing <3 i worked on this very sporadically, and i’m not the biggest fan of it but i hope you enjoy!

whoever brought those brownies in was an angel to y/n. yeah, a felony for sure, but she’d be lying if she said she didn’t secretly enjoy it.

even though the whole station had been haunted by taylor and her team the entire day, all of the worries of the job seemed to vanish. buck wasn’t sure why, but he just saw everything different than he has before. nature called for him and he was more than excited to be at his job.

he just wanted to laugh at everything, each little girl in front of him was the most adorable thing he’s ever seen. he watched y/n from across the room, sitting on the floor and playing with a girl in a massive dress shaped like a pastry.

“where did you get this dress?” she asks, running her fingers down the satin on the side.

“my mommy bought it for me!”

“can she buy one for me?” y/n asks, turning her head to see the grown firefighter skipping over.

“y/n!” he shoots out quickly, jogging over to lean next to her on the ground.

“hi buck! will you buy me a dress like this?”

“only if you buy me one,” he smiles. “maybe we should put bobby in one.” he starts completely laughing at the thought of bobby in a pretty pink dress, with a sash and a tiara.

“what is going on- buck!” chim shouts. “can someone help us over here?”

“how are we not helping?” buck asks, leading y/n to just shrug. they glance over at eddie in the corner, looking at all the pageant girls like they have 5 heads. he almost looks fearful of them, swaying in his spot.

the next few minutes were a blur, and suddenly they were all handcuffed together against a wall. hen, eddie, buck, and y/n were all connected by their hands, being watched by athena like they misbehaved at school.

“ooh, you made him cry!” buck teases, looking at the tears streaming down eddie’s face. y/n just looks closer to athena’s face.

“you’re a hot cop, thena,” y/n speaks airily, just smiling cheekily at the officer in front of her.

“you guys are high as hell and you’re on duty.”

“what?” hen exclaims. “i didn’t smoke anything-“

“well you ate something! someone brought marijuana brownies into the station, so you’re all off work.”

the team just looks around in shock, not fully caring until y/n and buck start giggling once more. “just- just sit down against this wall, and do not move.” athena demands, walking away to deal with the other emergency in the main room.

y/n and buck sat fine against the wall, comparing hands and very lightly slapping each other on the sides. a few spouts of silence would happen for a few minutes while the group of stoners just watched the world pass in front of them.

“buck,” y/n whispers.

“what?” he asks.

“you’re really cute, like i just figured i’d let you know.”

“thanks, you’re a cutie, too,” she giggles at his words, throwing her head back against the wall as he just glances at her. normal, sober buck would’ve had a racing heart and nerves fluttering all over his body because she told him he was cute. he knows he’s not bad looking, but hearing it from her is when he truly believes it. now, he just figured why not? yolo, anyway.

“no, you’re like cute cute. like hot oiled up firefighter cute.”

“that means so much, y/n,” he says, the sly remark almost making his heart clench.

“i want you under my christmas tree.”

“well, i want you in an easter egg for me.”

“well, i want you-“

“can you just shut up?” eddie asks, still distressed about being handcuffed and drugged. “we get it, you’re into each other. and what happens when you’re not high?”

“i don’t remember talking to you,” buck teases, giving eddie a side eye but keeping his head directed towards the pretty girl next to him.

“alright,” athena comes back into sight. “let’s get you all home, maybe sleep off some of this.”

the next morning, y/n remembered every little thing she said to buck, and he remembered every little thing he said to her. they hoped maybe it was like alcohol, making them forget what they may or may not have said, but nope. it was clear as day. it didn’t feel as awkward, though. it felt easier. like a weight was off their shoulders after being weighed down for so long.

when they both arrived at work, the look from the other just told them everything they had to know. buck meant everything he said, and so did she. her eyes lightly wandered over his, and he didn’t even make her say anything. they both knew that those cookies made a great thing burst open.

[imtheiliad]

CAN I GO WHERE YOU GO? 920 words | bucktommy | 7x06 coda a/n: look it me! i wrote something :P just a soft little thing that i couldn't stop thinking about <3 idek how long it has been since i published something episode related lol so be kind and gentle if you please<3 title is kinda just what fit best lol, enjoy!

Buck twirls his niece around as music plays quietly over a speaker, barely loud enough to hear over the quiet chatter. He swings her up and deposits her next to her newly-wed parents, and they look perfect. Buck remembers the reception of her first wedding, his cheeks didn’t hurt from smiling then, they do now, and by the looks of it so do Maddie’s. 

“You might want to–” she points toward the chair in the corner that holds his beast of a boyfriend, a bottled water coming dangerously close to slipping from his exhaustion-induced slack grip. 

“I should get him home, the adrenaline has worn off. I love you both so much, and you,” he ruffles Jee’s hair and leans in for a group hug, placing a kiss in his sister's hair. If he thinks too hard about everything he might cry, so he leaves unsaid and squeezes her tight hoping she understands. 

He takes the water bottle from Tommy’s hands and stands between his legs, gently cupping his cheek, “Hey, you are exhausted, let’s get you home. I’ll drive you.” 

And Tommy looks up at him through his eyelashes– how had Buck not noticed those before now? 

“You don’t have to– you should stay here. I’m sure Maddie–” 

“What she wants is for me to get you home safely, and visiting hours are almost over anyway.”

He can see Tommy trying to come up with a rebuttal, his mouth opening and closing as he tries to say something and then gives up.

Buck grabs Tommy’s turnout coat from the back of the chair, folding it over his arm and taking Tommy’s hand in his. 

“Congratulations again you two,” Tommy says as enthusiastically as he can before they turn toward the door.

—

Buck is awkwardly sitting at a table in the common area of Harbor. It feels weird to be in another station without his reason for being there within sight. Tommy had assured him that it was okay for him to sit, and if anyone gave him trouble to tell them that he was there with him. 

“Buckley! What are you doing here?” a familiar voice nearly makes him jump out of his seat. 

“Lu-Lucy! Hi.” 

She stands behind the chair across from him, leaning on her elbows on the top of the chair. And she actually waits for him to answer. 

“I-I’m waiting for Tommy. Had to swing by to drop off his turnouts and get his bag.”

Her brow crinkles a little and she cocks her head, “his shift ended hours ago?” 

“He uhhh, he came to Maddie and Chimney’s wedding. He’s pretty exhausted so I’m driving him home.” 

“He went to a wedding after that fire? In his turnouts?”

“It was at the hospital, wild story really. And I asked him to be there, so he was.” he blushes a little as he watches her do a little math. 

“Donato! Are you bullying Evan?” Buck can hear the smile on Tommy’s lips as he feels his hand land on his shoulder. He looks up at his boyfriend, and Tommy leans down, giving him a light kiss on his cheek. He looks a little brighter after rinsing off in the station showers and changing back into his Henley. 

“I was wondering why you had table privileges,” she smiles. “So, Chim finally got hitched huh, tell him and Maddie congrats for me.”

“Will do,” Buck smiles at her, and she walks away toward what he assumes is the snack cabinet. “Let’s get out of here and you into bed huh?” 

“You read my mind.” 

—

There’s a stillness in the car as they sit in Tommy’s driveway. 

“Evan, come inside. You’ve had a long stressful day too.” 

It’s like Tommy is inside his head, he doesn’t want to be alone tonight, not when he didn’t have to be. 

“And if the texts you sent me last night are any indication, you also did it all while hungover which I’m sure wasn’t all that pleasant. And, besides, you still owe me at least one dance.” 

“You are practically falling asleep sitting up and you want to dance?” 

“It’s what I was promised.” 

TOmmy reaches over the console between them, turning Buck’s face toward him, leans in and kisses him in earnest. Not quite as intense as their greeting earlier and not as gentle as their first. “Just come inside please,” he says just above a whisper against his lips. 

“Okay.” 

—

Buck takes in Tommy’s little house, it’s cozy with some of its years showing. 

“You can move past the entryway Evan. Just take your shoes off.” 

“Oh,” he replies softly, barely having noticed that he was slightly frozen. He toes off his shoes.

“C’mere,” Tommy holds out his hand, a song that Buck doesn’t know the name of softly drifting from the speakers. He lands in his boyfriend’s arms and it feels like it’s exactly where he is supposed to be. One hand on his neck, the other clasped together in Tommy’s, his other hand resting on his waist. It’s mostly quiet as they sway in the middle of the small living room. 

“You know, I never really got the whole hot firefighter thing until I saw you walk through those doors?” 

“You really are adorable.” Tommy smiles.

“Thank you for today. It means a lot that you did really try your damndest and succeeded.” He says earnestly. 

“Of course. It was important to you.” 

And Buck can’t help but kiss him for that, and he does, because he can. 

[heartofbusan]

A Tale of Two Earpods

Have you ever sat on a train while listening to music, and while you're watching the landscape, you feel heightened emotions? There's probably a name for this occurrence. It's almost cinematic even. When you're listening to music, it enhances this wonderful sense of detachment as the world passes you by at high speed.

That's probably what jikook were feeling, too, traveling past the pretty and snowy coastline. A little detached from the world inside the train, yet grounded in the music they're listening to together. We are invited into that bubble through the sounddesign as it gently invites us to come into their mindset.

There's a reason why this scene stands out. Something beyond the fact that when Jungkook gently laid his head on Jimin’s shoulder, he crushed the last dregs of sanity I had left, I mean.

----

The actual music we hear is considered a 'non-diegetic' layer. It's not something Jikook can hear, but it's added in later in post-production. This way, it functions as a guide for the audience to feel something. BUT, there is a very important physical element at play in this scene that gives an extra emotional entry into the minds of our main characters. The earpods.

Jikook are cutely sharing a pair of earpods 🥺 This places them inside a little auditory bubble separate from the audience: we can't hear what they're listening to. Luckily, Jungkook provides us with a genre: anime music.

So when Jimin remarks that it feels like they're in an animation (little did they know the scene would include actual illustrations), it was all those elements at play for him as well. The music is giving him the feels.

The soundtrack tries to let us in on their earpods by overlaying this moment with violin music, but it doesn't quite cut it tbh. I'm sure copyrights prevented them from sharing the actual music they're listening to. When Jimin starts to get playful and pretends to be a crying dog!?!?!? the cutest little flute/accordion piece starts playing. It's adorable and kind of folksy.

Then suddenly, the music switches to this soft electric guitar piece we've heard before in AYS, often at the end of sentimental scenes, like at the end of episode 4 when they're on the catamaran. It's a very melancholy yet hopeful piece, promising that this is not the end but a new beginning. At least, that's what it makes me feel.

In the train scene, this piece isn't used to end the scene, but it surprisingly builds towards something, a high point.

Here the music is reflecting not only their emotions: the train ride is amazing, they're really enjoying themselves, and it feels like another core memory being made, but it's also a guide for US watching THEM in THEIR moment. Like a little snapshot made for the audience. This is also OUR core memory now. Again, linking us directly to jikook, but also keeping us at a safe distance.

This concept feels foundational for AYS. Truly a show for them AND for us.

The actual highpoint of the scene ends with a beat of silence as JK puts his head on Jimin’s shoulder. After all the music, the silence at this exact moment is VERY LOUD in order to emphasize this gesture. A WORLD STOP.

And that's what I felt when I first saw it. That little beat of silence was an exclamation point, a silent scream. Your heart stopped beating for a second there, right? The sound design danced us right up until that point, swaying us gently from side to side and then suddenly it dipped us and made everyone take note. The shot fades out, the diegetic noise of the train can still be heard, and almost like we had to take a breath to clear our head, ... we're back to reality with JK's voice. Sigh.

If you're still reading this, I don't know what to tell you,...you too are obsessed with jikook 😮‍💨 send help.

----

I rarely travel on trains anymore, but next time I do , I look forward to emptying my mind of real-world problems, and I'll think of this little Jikook snapshot instead.

[gatorbites-imagines]

Kinktober day 31

Bravern (and Lewis Smith) + unconventional

I had NO idea what to call this honestly, cuz I had already used size difference earlier and Braverns like 9 meters tall. I love this big bot, and I just wanted to finish kinktober even if I finished it late, so here we go.

Yall should watch Bang Brave Bravern so we can talk about it, it’s really good. Giant gay robot 👍

Some Bravern spoilers, so if you wanna watch it first, go do that. Its only 12 episodes. No outright smut in this one cuz I couldn’t figure out how to do it?

Kinktober 2024 masterlist

Having a giant robot for a boyfriend was… different than your past relationships. Well, dating Lewis had been normal and all, but then he became a giant robot that reminded you of something out of Hollywood. You could already hear him whining that it wasn’t Hollywood but more so the mecha genre of Japanese superhero shows.

It was a bit of a mind fuck, or maybe a very big mind fuck. It felt kinda like having two boyfriends, but not really since they were the same guy, not again, not really. Lewis was still around, as himself, but he was also there, as Bravern. It also felt a bit like cheating, since no one but you had figured out who Bravern truly was.

But how could you not clock it immediately, when Lewis had spent hours telling you how his mecha would look, if he was in one of his shows or manga, back when you were both still in military training. You had never really gotten the gist of it, but it made Lewis happy. This also meant you easily went along with Halloween costumes he wanted to do, especially since seeing you in some sentai hero suit always got him so hot and bothered.

But, back to Bravern. It was almost impossible to meet up secretly with a robot, mecha, this big. He barely fit into the warehouse set up for him. Hed started stuttering over his words when you showed up saying you wanted to talk, and really, how could you not recognize your own boyfriend when he did that.

In the end, you coldly and seriously told him you knew his secret, making Bravern gulp, could mecha even gulp? But, before you knew it, Bravern had shifted into a ship? Car? Thing? And told you to get in so you could talk privately.

After getting the whole situation from him, part of you couldn’t help but be hurt that you weren’t his pilot. Why was Isami so great, when you were right there? Bravern, Lewis? Seemed to recognize your hurt feelings immediately, and scooped you up as carefully as one with a jellyfish in his giant metallic hands.

He immediately started apologizing in ways you knew so well, from the times hed accidentally ripped your shirts pulling them on thanks to his impressive pecs, or that time he scratched your car showing off one of the new nerd swords hed bought. You weren’t sure if mecha even could cry, but somehow Bravern looked near tears about it.

Even without pupils you could tell Bravern was looking at you the same way Lewis always did, when he felt like he had messed up and wanted to be forgiven. He always reminded you of a floppy eared golden retriever, and somehow, even as a giant 9-meter tall mecha, he still did.

A long-drawn-out sigh left your lungs as you pinched at the bridge of your nose, the noise making Bravern curl in on himself in such a familiar way. “Lift me closer to your face” you finally muster out, running a hand down your face as Bravern was quick to do so, seemingly not wanting to hurt your feelings even more.

Kissing a giant robot was even weirder, part of you wondering if he could even feel your tiny lips against his massive pair. This was probably how those chicks felt in the transformers fanfiction you sometimes read. What? There is very little male reader stuff, so you take what you can get.

Bravern jolted enough for the ground under you to shake a little, his lips parting for a moment before he pursed them. It was almost comical, to be standing on the palm of his giant hand as he pursed his lips, like some weird princess and the frog mockery, but the princess was a red, white and gold mecha, and the frog was you, in your dirty military uniform.

Placing a hand on his metallic chin kind of reminded you of doing checkups on your titanostrider, except Bravern was, more alive under your touch? It was difficult to explain, and you’d probably give yourself a migraine just thinking about it. You still hadn’t really registered how he was both here as Lewis, and here as Bravern at the same time.

When you kissed Lewis, you would always grab his chin between your pointer and thumb and squeeze it, just enough for him to part his lips so you could slide your tongue inside. Your hands seemed to have the same reaction with Bravern, whose large lips parted slightly. On Lewis it would barely have been noticeable, but as Bravern it was right there.

“Stick your tongue out a little” you mumble, somewhat unsure if he could even hear you, with you standing below his nose and his ears being… wherever they are on a mecha. But Bravern, always being so good no matter what form he was in, stuck the tip of his tongue out between his lips.

Normally, you liked to really coil your tongue around his, knowing it drove Lewis crazy to have all that spit and slobber all over his face and running down his neck. That obviously wasn’t possible, so instead you sank your teeth into the tip of Braverns tongue before sucking it into your mouth.

You hadn’t really had a tongue this big in your mouth before, so you resorted to the same tongue and suckling movements you’d do when you had your mouth around Lewis’s large pecs. There wasn’t a nipple to tease or bite at, so instead you just cranked up the way you rubbed and moved your tongue.

Hearing Bravern moan was so loud, and it surrounded you in a way you hadn’t experienced before. Even the times where you had Lewis sobbing with pleasure in your ear wasn’t like this, but Bravern sounded just as needy. His fingers trembled under you, like he wanted nothing more than to touch you, his lips parting further as his tongue slid more towards you, almost knocking you over.

For a split moment, the mental image of Bravern pulling your clothes off and just licking you flashed before your mind. It made you way too hard to be normal, and you had never had fantasies like that before, so you weren’t gonna acknowledge them more than blaming it on the fact that it was your boyfriend.

Bravern looked ready to eat you, he had that same look in his eyes that Lewis always got when you two were apart for longer periods of time, when he wanted to push you down on the bed and ride you till you felt like one of those scrunched up juice boxes with not even air left inside.

Of course, at that moment, as Braverns tongue neared your torso, did the phone in your pocket ring. Something inside Bravern must have notified him too, of whatever you were being contacted about, as he whined and pouted. “I-im sorry baby, w-we can… continue later” he stumbled, giving you a faint impression that he was looking around like crazy even without pupils.

“Sure. Its probably… important enough” you cough, trying to collect yourself again and pull your uniform back on to fit the standard. Bravern kissed your chest carefully, clearly fearing he might crush you if he pressed any harder.

The flight back to base was a quiet affair, the air thick with a familiar heated feeling. But duty calls, so its not like you could even rub one out in his cockpit and dirty talk him until he came in his pants, codpiece? Could mechas even do that? You didn’t know, but you knew damn well you could make it happen.

Instead, you had to step out of Bravern in his ship form and join the others, brushing off questions about what you had been doing with Bravern. The mecha was so much worse than you when it came to lying, stuttering something about wanting to show you how fast he could go, as Isami climbed inside.

You could feel Lewis staring at you, intensely enough that you had to look back at him. He was biting his lip in that oh so familiar way, his brows furrowed as he stared at your lips. You couldn’t help but reach up and touch them, only then realising they were probably flushed and kissed, making dread pool in your stomach.

But Lewis didn’t seem angry at the aspect that his boyfriend may have been off, making out with a giant robot. Instead, Lewis seemed quite hot about it, if the flush rising in his cheeks and the clear way he was swallowing his spit had anything to say. That… you noted down for later. But first, duty, and then… find a way to make your boyfriend, boyfriends? Kiss, since you knew it would drive them both crazy.