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matt-murdockk · 2 months ago

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Gold Rush— Chapter 1

series masterlist | fluff, not exactly angst, but there's an emotional heart-to-heart

pairing: spencer reid x fem!bau!reader

words: 3.1k

summary: Hotch has you and Spencer pose as college students for a particularly riveting case. Spencer confides in you about his own college experience. Morgan and Garcia debate meddling in your lives.

warnings: language, mentions of suicide, canon typical violence, bogus statistics that i made up for the sake of plot

a/n: new spencer series can i get a wahoo; This is the first chapter, it's going to be a slow burn, fluffy, angst, probably suggestive, friends-to-lovers thing, with a definite happy ending because Spencer Walter Reid deserves good things in life. no established timeline yet, but Gideon is still with the team right now.

In all your time at the BAU, one thing you noticed was how surprisingly often you had to take cases involving universities. Something about high-pressure environments like these kept pushing people over the edge. It made sense if college was still as brutal as you remembered; no wonder people kept losing it as frequently as they did.

"Did you know that over 1,100 college students in the U.S. die by suicide each year? And nearly one in four students meet the criteria for a diagnosable mental health condition, but only about 25% of them seek help. Also, campus crime rates have shown a 7% increase in violent offenses over the last decade— likely due to underfunded mental health services and increased academic stressors."

"That's an extremely depressing statistic, thank you for that, Spencer."

"Emily, I'm just trying to help."

The environment in the jet was tense, to say the least. On top of the fact that the latest victim had been found less than 200 feet from a freshman dorm, with signs of prolonged restraint, the most recent ME report confirmed what they’d all feared: this wasn’t rage. It was ritual. Deliberate. Calculated.

"Alright," Morgan said, flipping through the file, his brow furrowed. "We’ve got four students dead in six weeks. All of them high achievers, all part of the same hyper-competitive academic fellowship program. No signs of struggle. No known enemies. Ligature marks around the wrists and feet indicate that they may have been tortured. Slowly."

The jet was quiet for a beat— just the hum of engines and the occasional rustle of paper.

(Y/n) leaned forward, elbow on her knee, eyes scanning the victimology chart. “All four were juniors. That means they were eligible for summer internships. The kind that come with permanent placement options.”

JJ glanced up from the folder in her lap. “You think this could be connected to competition? Someone trying to eliminate the top contenders?”

“It’s possible,” (Y/n) said, thoughtful. “But if it were just about removing competition, the unsub wouldn’t need to do it this violently. This feels... personal.”

“Good insight,” Hotch said, nodding once. “Keep following that thread.”

From across the aisle, Reid spoke without looking up from the file in his lap. “It’s reminiscent of the 1998 Brecklin University case in Utah. Three students from a competitive honors cohort murdered by a rejected applicant. Same kind of precision. Same fixation on achievement.”

“That guy had a manifesto,” Gideon muttered, not looking up. “Swore the school was rigged against him.”

Emily sighed. “So we’re looking at a potential revenge motive. Someone who thinks they should’ve been in the program?”

“Or someone who was and got cut,” JJ added. “We’ll need to get the list of current fellows and anyone who didn’t make the last cut.”

(Y/n) reached for her tablet, already briefing Garcia. “On it.”

Next to her, Spencer nudged her foot lightly under the table. “Your theory tracks,” he said, voice lower now, just for her. “Most people overlook psychological escalation when there's a logical motive present. You didn’t.”

(Y/n) shrugged. “Yeah, well. Most people don’t spend their weekends with you explaining twelve different types of criminal obsession over lukewarm coffee.”

He huffed a quiet laugh. “That was one time.”

She grinned. “It was three.”

Morgan noticed the moment and smirked slightly. “Alright, lovebirds. Focus.”

"That's not— we're not— I, uh," Spencer struggled.

"Wow," replied (Y/n), clutching her imaginary pearls. "And here I was, thinking our love was real. For shame, Dr. Reid. For shame."

Spencer huffed out a soft laugh, the tension in his shoulders easing just enough to be visible. He turned slightly, catching her eye across the aisle.

She was already looking at him, one corner of her mouth lifted in that way that meant you’re fine.

He mouthed a quiet, thank you.

(Y/n) winked. Anytime.

——————————————————————————————————

The precinct they landed in was small, boxy, and smelled vaguely of burnt coffee and stale printer ink. A far cry from Quantico, but it would do. JJ and Gideon were already coordinating with local officers, setting up a profile board in the narrow back room that doubled as a break area.

Garcia was on speaker with Derek somewhere in the periphery, her voice tinny through the ancient phone system as she rattled off the initial background checks, with the occasional inappropriate comment that Derek doubled down on with much joy.

Hotch stood at the centre of the chaos, calm as ever. “I want (Y/n) and Reid to go undercover on campus,” he said, flipping through a preliminary security log. “The unsub is targeting students from within. We need eyes and ears close to the victim pool.”

Spencer blinked. “You want us to pose as… students?”

Emily smirked from across the room. “What’s the matter, Reid? Afraid someone’s gonna ask you to shotgun a beer?”

Spencer ignored her. “I just mean— my college experience was… atypical. I was fourteen. I didn’t live on campus. I didn’t attend parties or football games or join any clubs. Well, regular clubs. I— I don’t know how to blend in with normal students.”

“Well,” (Y/n) said, patting him on the back as she passed, “lucky for you, I was a deeply average college student with exactly zero social capital and a very unhealthy caffeine addiction. I’ve got this.”

Spencer gave her a wary look.

(Y/n) grinned. “Seriously. Relax, baby boy. I gotchu.”

Across the room, Morgan let out a low whistle. “You two are gonna blend in just fine.”

Spencer shot Morgan a look, then turned back to her. “I’m not entirely sure how pretending to be eighteen again is going to help us gather meaningful data. For all we know, Morgan would probably make a more convincing student. He can pass for a jock, right?”

She handed him a hoodie someone had fished out from the campus security lost-and-found. “Don’t worry. You’re not here to be meaningful. You’re here to be pretty and mysterious.”

Spencer adjusted his satchel. “I’m fairly certain I can manage mysterious.”

(Y/n) smiled, tilting her head. “Yeah, and the pretty part is, well, already taken care of. Come on, Doctor. Time to infiltrate the youth.”

——————————————————————————————————

The sun was beginning to dip behind the campus library, casting long, golden shadows across the quad as (Y/n) made her way toward the old stone fountain at the centre. It was a popular hangout spot, even now— students milling about with iced coffees, backpacks slung low, laughter bouncing off brick walls. She spotted Spencer instantly.

He stood awkwardly by the fountain, posture too straight, expression too polite, and looking deeply out of place in the zip-up hoodie they’d bullied him into wearing. A group of girls had just passed him— giggling, whispering, one of them very obviously handing him her number on a napkin from the student café.

She bit back a laugh as she walked up.

He looked over and exhaled like her presence alone was a relief.

“How’d it go?” he asked.

(Y/n) sipped her drink. “Made some friends, got a few names from the fellowship director. Cross-referenced their housing, spotted a pattern— he’s been circling the same three dorms. Garcia’s running the utilities and entry logs now.”

Spencer blinked. “You got all that in twenty minutes?”

“I multitask,” she said, handing him a folded notepad. “Also, the campus gossip train is terrifyingly effective. Everyone knows something. Especially if you bring a coffee and look appropriately tired.”

He flipped through the notes, nodding slowly.

"So, how'd it go on your end? You look like you had to sit through someone misquoting Nietzsche for 40 minutes straight."

"Well, let's see. It took me conversations with 4 different people to realise that I was being propositioned, got 6 phone numbers so far, yeah, apparently I give off a sullen, mysterious, lonely English literature professor energy that quote unquote chicks dig, at least 3 people thought I was someone called Scotty and would not listen when I very politely tried to explain to them that I had no idea who this Scotty was, I think someone tried to sell me weed? Yeah, and I stepped on something; I don't even want to find out what it was, I'm just going to burn my shoes when we get home, and I am deeply, utterly, painfully uncomfortable."

(Y/n) stared at him, wide-eyed, then promptly burst out laughing.

It wasn’t delicate. It was full-bodied and genuine— the kind that made her tip forward slightly, hand pressed to her stomach. Spencer looked at her with faux-offense, arms crossed, but the corner of his mouth twitched anyway.

“You think this is funny?”

“Oh, hell yes. This is the best day of my life,” she wheezed. “You getting mistaken for Scotty is just hilarious, might I add.”

"You know him, too? Jesus, who's Scotty?"

"Dude, you should so meet Scotty, how do you not know him? He’s a campus legend. Sells weed, gives terrible relationship advice, runs an anonymous poetry zine, and once faked his own death for a sociology project.”

Spencer blinked. “What.”

She shrugged, sipping her drink like it was the most normal thing in the world. “It was performance art.”

“We’ve been here for—” he checked his watch, “—an hour and twelve minutes.”

“Exactly. And you’re already accidentally embodying the student body’s most chaotic icon. You’re killing it.”

Spencer opened his mouth, then closed it again, clearly reassessing his life choices.

They started walking, cutting through a patch of sun-drenched grass toward the dorms. The chatter of students buzzed around them like white noise— fragments of conversation, laughter, the occasional sound of a Frisbee being caught mid-air.

As they passed a cluster of students seated under a tree, one of them nudged another and nodded toward them.

“See?” the guy said, not even trying to whisper. “Cute couple like that exists, and I’m still getting ghosted by someone named ‘do not pick up.’ There’s no hope, I swear to God.”

Spencer nearly tripped over his own feet.

(Y/n) didn’t miss a beat. “He’s talking about us, by the way.”

Spencer flushed immediately, the tops of his ears turning pink.

“I—uh, should we—?”

She looked over at him with a sly smile. “Should we what? Set the record straight? Clarify to the emotionally devastated college population that we’re not dating?”

“I mean… maybe?”

(Y/n) nudged him with her shoulder. “Relax, Spence. I know you get weird when people tease you.”

“I do not get weird,” he said, entirely too quickly.

“You’re currently red from the neck up.”

“That’s due to sun exposure,” he deadpanned.

She snorted. “Sure. And I’m Miss America.”

They walked a few more paces in comfortable silence before she added, softer this time, “We’re better than any couple here, anyway.”

He turned to look at her, brow furrowing just slightly. “We are?”

She met his gaze without hesitation. “Of course we are. We’re best friends.”

And that— somehow— made his shoulders drop, just a little. The tension melted into something else. Something warm.

He smiled, quiet and real. “Yeah. We are.”

(Y/n) nodded, bumping her hand lightly against his. “Come on, pretty boy. Let’s go see if Scotty’s real or just a campus cryptid.”

Spencer followed, still smiling. And just like that, the blush didn’t feel like embarrassment anymore.

——————————————————————————————————

After a particularly long day on campus and a debriefing at the station, the team was done for the day, back at their hotel rooms, some fast asleep, and some wide awake.

The hotel vending machine made a mechanical whir before it spat out a slightly dented packet of peanut M&Ms. Spencer retrieved it with a sigh and didn’t even bother opening it. He just stood there in the dim hallway, bathed in the soft flicker of an overhead light, letting the quiet settle around him.

He hadn’t been able to sleep.

He rarely could, after days like this.

So when he heard soft footsteps padding across the carpet, he didn’t need to turn to know who it was.

“Can’t sleep?” (Y/n)’s voice was quiet, warm. Like she already knew the answer.

Spencer shook his head. “Didn’t even try.”

“Same.”

She joined him at the vending machine, arms crossing over her chest, hair pulled up and messy like she hadn’t really meant to be seen. It made him smile, faintly. They walked in unspoken agreement to the little lounge area in the corner of the lobby, two mismatched armchairs and a table that had definitely seen better days.

“You know, I used to dream about going to college,” he said suddenly. “Not the academic part. Knew that was always going to be easy or at least manageable for me. But the rest of it. The normal part. Living on campus. Making friends. Going to class. Meeting people who liked the same things I did.”

She turned to look at him, but didn’t interrupt.

“I thought it would be like starting over,” he said. “School was not a particularly pleasant time, so I thought maybe in college, I’d finally belong somewhere. That I’d find my people, you know?”

He gave a soft, humorless laugh.

“I was maybe fourteen when I started at Caltech,” he said. “I lived alone in a rented apartment two miles from campus. My mom called every night, sometimes crying. I didn’t know how to help her. I didn’t know how to help me. I used to walk through the dorms just to hear other people’s voices. I’d sit in the library until it closed so I wouldn’t have to go home to silence.”

Her heart cracked a little.

“I had classmates,” he said. “Brilliant ones. Talented. Older. But I didn’t have friends. Not really. No one ever invited me out or sat next to me unless it was for group work. Most of the time they just stared. Sometimes they laughed.”

He looked down at the packet in his hands.

“I stopped hoping for a normal life around that time. Just told myself that some people don’t get it. That I wasn’t… built for it. That I didn't deserve it, you know?”

She didn’t know what to say, not at first. Her throat was tight.

“But today,” he said softly, “walking around with you— pretending, laughing, just… being— I felt something I haven’t felt since I was a kid. I felt like I could’ve had that life. I could’ve belonged. And maybe the reason I didn’t wasn’t because I was broken or unworthy. Maybe I just hadn’t met you yet.”

Tears prickled at the backs of her eyes before she could stop them.

“Jesus, Spencer,” she whispered. “You absolute menace. You’re gonna make me cry in a Red Roof Inn lobby.”

He smiled, small and tired. “Sorry.”

She nudged his knee with hers. “Don’t be. I’m really glad I know you. I hope you know that.”

“I do,” he said quietly. “And I’m really glad I know you too.”

There was a soft sniff from behind a fake potted plant.

They both turned.

Morgan stood frozen mid-sip with a bag of Skittles in hand, blinking like he’d just stepped on an emotional landmine.

“I— yeah, I’m just gonna—” he gestured vaguely behind him. “No, no, I’m fine. Just… allergies. In my soul.”

He ducked away before either of them could call him out.

(Y/n) turned back to Spencer, her voice a whisper now.

“If we’d been in college together… I think we'd still have been best friends.”

His hand found hers under the table.

"You think so?"

"I know so."

——————————————————————————————————

The unsub didn’t wait.

By the time they pieced together the access logs and realized which dorm was next in the pattern, it was almost too late. A camera glitch on the east quad. A missing student not yet reported. A name on the fellowship list— circled twice in the unsub’s obsessively annotated journal.

Spencer and (Y/n) were the closest.

They ran.

It was a three-story building, older, with creaky stairs and fluorescent lights that flickered like they were as nervous as the students inside. Spencer took the west hallway, (Y/n) took the north. Backup was still five minutes out.

The door wasn’t locked.

(Y/n) burst in just as the unsub raised a knife— quick, practiced, like he’d done this before. There was no hesitation in her tackle, no falter in her grip. The scuffle was fast, messy, a blur of movement and panic and adrenaline. She got the blade away from him, but not before they both slammed into the desk and hit the floor hard.

By the time Spencer reached her, the unsub was cuffed, breathing hard through a busted lip, and (Y/n) was sitting on the carpet, checking her elbow for bruises.

“Are you—?!” he started, too breathless to finish the sentence.

She looked up at him, eyes wide.

“I’m fine,” she said, and winced. “Desk fought back, but I won.”

Spencer crouched immediately, hands hovering just above her shoulders, like he needed to touch her but wasn’t sure if he should.

“You sure?”

She smiled, even as she flexed her fingers. “Yeah. You?”

He let out a shaky breath. “I am now”

——————————————————————————————————

The case wrapped up within hours. Victim safe. Unsub in custody. Team debriefed. Statements given.

They flew home that night.

The jet was quiet, lit only by soft blue overheads and the glow of tablets left idle. Hotch was asleep with his arms crossed. Emily was out cold, head tilted back on the headrest. Gideon had claimed the recliner and a blanket. JJ was slumped sideways with a folder still open on her lap.

Derek sat near the back, phone pressed to his ear as he whispered to Garcia on the other end.

“I’m just saying,” she was saying, muffled but insistent, “if those two don’t get it together soon, I will start mailing them matching ‘just kiss already’ T-shirts. In their sizes. Color-coded.”

Derek snorted quietly.

“They’re asleep,” he murmured, watching them from across the cabin.

Spencer was curled slightly toward (Y/n), his head resting gently on her shoulder. Her cheek was pressed to his hair, one hand resting over his, where it sat on the seat between them. Neither stirred.

Derek smiled to himself, watching the slow, steady rise and fall of their breathing, synced without even trying.

“They’re gonna be okay,” he said softly into the phone. “Both of them.”

There was a pause on the other end. Then Garcia’s voice, hushed now, like she didn’t want to disturb the moment from a thousand miles away.

“They already are.”

Derek leaned back in his seat. “Still think we should’ve meddled?”

“Nah,” she said. “Not this time. They're doing okay, where they are. Writing their own story. We're just lucky enough to read it.”

He huffed a quiet laugh. “You’re getting all poetic on me, Baby Girl.”

“Well, you’re getting all soft on me, Chocolate Thunder.”

“Only for you.”

“Oh, I know.”

88 notes · View notes

cherriegyuu · 1 year ago

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midnight rain | lsm

pairing: seokmin x f!reader genre: angst, smut, a little bit of fluff word count: 17k summary: after seven years away, you finally return home. meeting seokmin again wasn't in your plans, but life wasn't willing to let you have it your way. warnings: minors do not interact, kissing, oral, swearing, penetrative sex, unprotected sex (don't do this) a/n: this is part of 1k event, it was requested the dearest @ressonancee. but also, it's part of svt ans songs from midnights. i just wrote two in one and something that was supposed to be short became this monster. i hope i wrote seokmin in a way you'll like it. prompt: “I don’t want anyone else. No one else can make me feel like you do." Seokmin ➝ Midnight Rain He was sunshine, I was midnight rain ↳ it was the oldest story in the world, the bright boy fell for the grumpy girl.

Letter #1

Seokmin,

You know, I've always been very proud of not being a very attached person. I've always been proud that I can put myself first and second, because I know I need to do it, because I know that no one else will do it for me. So, when I came here and dropped everything I had, I thought it would be a lot easier than it actually is.

When I turn around in bed at night, after days of trying to get used to the time zone and weeks to the weather and the people here — which are both bad and for completely different reasons, nothing is like in the movies — I always hope to find you there by my side and being able to snuggle up to you like I always did. I wake up in the morning and make enough coffee for two people and take two mugs out of the cupboard, and only then do I realize I'm alone here. I don't need two mugs and I made too much coffee. Sometimes, in the middle of the day, I find myself typing your number, which I have memorized despite the fact that no one remembers phone numbers, because phones exist for a reason.

You have no idea how much I miss you and what I would do to be able to hear your voice again. I would do anything, I swear I could. But I know I no longer have that right. I know that what I did is unforgivable and although I want your forgiveness, I hope you never forget what I did to you.

You were still good to me on the last day. You took me to the airport, you said goodbye to me, you hugged me tight like you know I like it and you did your best not to shed a tear in front of me.

Every now and then I catch myself thinking that I messed up. I could have done my master's where we graduated, I didn't need to move to the other side of the world and leave the life I knew behind. But at the same time, I accept it. Coming here was my dream, it was always what I dreamed of even when you were by my side as well. And maybe that's why I never told you about the application, about being approved. Maybe I waited until the end, until the very last second to tell you because I knew you were the only one capable of changing my mind.

When I was by your side, I started to dream of a different life, a life that had you at all times and in all aspects. But, as you may have already noticed, I chose my first dream.

I know I won't regret it. I can't afford to regret it. You’ll become who you always wanted to be and I’ll be there to give you a standing ovation. Not there, next to you, but from afar.

“That was Sunday Morning, by Hong Joshua. Ah, whenever I hear this song I remember my college days. I've said this here a few times, and I think I sound like a broken record by this point, but Joshua and I went to the same college and he was always singing this song in the hallways. Any small gathering between friends he would pull out the guitar and sing. So I'm sorry, but you're going to have to listen to this song at least once a week for the next year. Or until he releases the next one.”

Seokmin looked at the monitor to his right as a pre-recorded commercial for the next show started. The comments were going up too quickly, which made reading them an almost impossible mission.

On the other side of the glass, Chan made a sign indicating that the commercial was over. Seokmin looked at his friend as he lowered one finger after another and finally pointed at him. Chan placed a sheet of paper, which was always used, against the glass, which said “last, chat”. Indicating that he still had one more question to answer.

“We have time for one more question” Seokmin said, opening the internal chat he used with the other radio employees and read the question that Chan had sent “I ended a relationship of almost four years a few months ago, but I still can't understand what happened. I haven't even returned his things yet. How do I get in touch saying I want to return it?”

Seokmin swallowed. He knew that Chan hadn't done it on purpose, that he had no way of knowing everything that had happened between him and you, but he hated how much the question resonated in his head. It was a feeling he shared and for him it had been a little worse because you lived together during your last year of college. So when he entered the house and saw all the furniture, the decorations, your clothes still in the closet, it was like entering a time machine. In that 30 square meter space, for a few minutes, you still hadn't left.

He took a deep breath, away from the microphone so the sound wouldn't be picked, and leaned forward.

“It's a difficult question, really. If it's been a few months and he still hasn't picked his things up, it's because he doesn't need them, so I don't think you should bother contacting him. Hmmm”

He bit his lip and rested his elbows on the table, thinking if he should continue talking or if it would be better to stop there. Seokmin always thought it was better not to let personal feelings show on the radio, but he had moments when he couldn't follow his own rules.

“I can tell you from experience that sometimes silence is better. Because if you know the truth, it could hurt you even more. When I was in a similar situation, after a while I simply discarded the person's belongings. At first, it will be difficult, because you’ll see that shirt you gave as a gift, that letter you wrote and remember what it meant, the moment you gave those things to him. But little by little you will achieve it. Don't feel obligated to just move on when you're not ready. People will always tell you that it's about time, that it's been so many weeks or months. You’re the one who knows about your feelings.”

Chan knocked on the glass again, almost desperate because Seokmin's answer had been too long. It wasn't the first time he had gotten lost in what he was saying and maybe had been talking in circles. It always happened that he remembered you when he answered a question.

And in that specific question he was being a hypocrite because he knew that if he opened his closet, deep inside it, he would find at least two boxes full of your things hidden. He rarely went near those boxes, he liked to pretend they didn't exist and most days he managed to achieve that thought. But there were other days…

“So we come to the end of another Cupid's Corner with Minnie. See you again next week. Cupid’s Corner with Minnie: Unveiling Love’s Melody, One Relationship at a Time!”

Seokmin removed his headphones, stood up, and waved at the cameras he knew were pointed at him. He grabbed his phone and the bottle of water he always carried with him. The red light above the door finally went out and Seokmin left the studio.

Immediately, Chan appeared beside him. He had just gone blond, and it strangely suited him.

He knew the youngest was desperate, not that he was doing a good job of hiding it. The disheveled hair, pointing in all directions, also helped a lot.

“You’re going to have a heart attack if you continue like this” Seokmin said laughing.

Chan was the newest employee, handpicked by Seokmin a few months before. Seokmin needed someone to help him organize the broadcasts after his previous assistant quit because she had gotten a job in the field she had studied. Seokmin even talked to her and offered a higher salary that would come out of his own pocket, but nothing seemed to help. Not that he blamed her, in her place he would have done the same thing. But in the position he was in, changes made him uncomfortable so he did what he could to make sure everything stayed the same.

Maybe it was trauma.

“It’s because they yell at me, not you.”

One of the reasons Seokmin chose Chan as his new assistant was his sincerity. In the middle of the interview he “I think there are things in your program that need to change” and started listing things that he thought were dated or ideas that had been used too much and therefore didn't have the same effect on listeners. The others had found him presumptuous as if he wanted to know more than those who worked at the radio. Seokmin disagreed and that's how Chan got the job.

“They yell at you because you’re the new guy, no one yelled at Jiah”

Chan made a sound in the back of his throat, like a scoff.

“That's because everyone was afraid of her” Seokmin rolled his eyes and reached for the folder Chan was carrying “Oh, right. Tomorrow is your lecture for the communication classes, but they said it is possible that students from other courses will also be there, because it’llll be in the auditorium”

Seokmin nodded, reading the guidelines Chan had made. He needed to admit that he was organized and had absolute control over everything he did. He was sure that if he asked about Wonwoo's program, Chan would know how to answer as if he worked directly with him.

“You know how it is, I have fans” Chan pretended to vomit “If you go tomorrow, we’ll go out to dinner later, I’ll pay”

"Deal"

Seokmin always found it strange to be called to give lectures at the college where he studied. He wasn't a teacher and he didn't think he had done enough to be someone who could give advice to someone. In fact, Seokmin was sure he hadn't done anything big. His life, to put it very simply, was flat. At least, almost all of his life.

Seokmin has always been the type of guy who makes plans and follows through on those plans. When he was sixteen he got it into his head that he wanted to work in radio. It wasn't without reasons, of course. He joined the school radio and despite doing very little, because the school director had to know everything that would be done, even the nouns he would use in the sentence, he fell in love with the idea. That's why he decided he should study journalism in college, that way even if his radio career didn't work out, he would still have a profession.

But his dream was to work on a radio, to have his own program. So that's what he did.

He entered college as planned, sunk into student debt, and graduated exactly as he had planned. In his last semester, he got an internship at the biggest radio station in the country. He was on cloud nine. It was as if he had received the green light in life and everything was on the right track.

At least that's what he thought. At least that was what he had forced himself to believe. The internship became a permanent position and one day he just happened to be in the right place at the right time. That's why he never felt prepared to give anyone advice. Despite having decided on the career he wanted to pursue, he knew that he also needed to count on a little luck and help. The only words he could offer were “you work hard, study, make contacts, and throw the rest into luck’s hands”. It wasn't the kind of thing he wanted to hear when he was a student looking forward to the future, so he certainly wouldn't say it to anyone.

However, Chan convinced him that it would be a good idea to give the talk.

“You’re going to tell me how you got here, that’s all. An unknown face who quickly went on air to cover someone for one of the most beloved radio broadcasters in the country. I'm sure if you say that shit fell on your head, they'll like it” Chan had said laughing.

Overall the lecture went very well. Better than expected. He answered the questions as honestly as possible and used his best smile to get rid of the more awkward questions.

Despite the good day, he knew he didn't want to repeat the dose anytime soon.

“They want to know if you would be willing to do one of these a semester” Chan whispered because he knew the answer Seokmin would give, so it was better for the students not to hear.

“No” was all Seokmin said “But I’ll still buy you dinner”

Chan punched the air in celebration, catching the eyes of those around him, but he seemed to care very little.

"I just…"

What Seokmin was about to say, an announcement that he needed to go to the bathroom, died in his throat as he looked straight ahead.

Letter #2

Seokmin,

I thought I would be able to adapt faster here. It was very hard in the beginning with transport, getting around in general was very difficult. So I chose a weekend and went walking around the neighborhood where I live. I don't know how long I'll stay here, but I thought I should check it out. Besides, I can wake up in the middle of the night and decide that I want to eat something that I don't have at home, so it's good to know if there are any stores or markets that open in the middle of the night (in this neighborhood there aren't any, maybe that's why I won’t stay here).

I discovered that going out there, although productive, wasn't such a good idea. Nothing wrong happened, I didn't get hit on or someone was rude to me. Quite the contrary, most people pretended they weren't even seeing me. The problem was that everything made me think about you.

I walked by the store that sold a lot of random old things and decided to go in. You know I love filling the house with trinkets. I didn't find anything there that I liked, but I saw that they were selling camera films. For a moment I forgot everything that had happened and all I could think was, I think Seokmin is running out of film, I need to buy more because he will only realize when he doesn't have any left.

I bought it and brought it to the apartment. I opened the door and called your name. It was only later, when I noticed where I was, that it wasn't our apartment, that I realized what I had done.

Even without meaning to, even when I try not to, I find myself looking for you. Everywhere. I go to a restaurant and think about what you would like to eat, I see a dog on the street and I imagine you bending down to pet it. It's not on purpose, I just can't help it. I try, but it's in vain.

I wonder if it will pass. Will this feeling that I succeeded in my career but ruined my personal life disappear or will I feel like this forever — or at least for a good few years?

yn.

It was as if all the air had been ripped from your lungs and there was no way in the world to get you to breathe.

Somehow, some way, Seokmin was standing in front of you, in the middle of the college hallway.

For a moment it was as if you had been transported back in time, to when you were still 22 years old. In another moment you would have simply run up to him and thrown yourself into his arms as if you hadn't spent the whole night clinging to him, as if you hadn't seen each other before classes, as if you hadn't shared the smallest space in the world on the subway for 20 minutes. And your body seemed to remember all of this, like some kind of muscle memory, because you felt like you were being projected forward. Towards him.

You thought Seokmin would talk to you, you were sure he would. But you saw the way his gaze changed, the way it went from complete surprise to a hard look, completely different from anything you had ever seen from him.

In your memory, Seokmin was always brilliant and was always willing to welcome everyone with open arms, even when he felt more shy. You didn’t understand, that look he gave you was completely different from what you imagined could happen.

When you made the decision to return, you knew that there was a possibility of meeting Seokmin, no matter how small it was. You didn't know if he was still friends with the same people, if he still kept in touch with them. You certainly hadn't kept in touch with anyone - except for the two times you talked to Joshua. The possibility existed, but being realistic you knew it was as big as winning the lottery.

Of all the places you thought you could find Seokmin, college was the last one and maybe that was even why you accepted the job. When you were taking the last tests, the ones that would say whether you would graduate at the end of the semester or not, Seokmin was categorical in saying that he would never set foot inside college again. So you thought it was a place he would never go, but there he was. And in your first week, when you needed everything to go well. Not to show that you were ready and that you could do the job, but to reassure yourself that you had made the right choice in accepting the job.

You didn't have time to decide whether to talk to him or not. Seokmin made the decision for both of you. He continued walking as if you weren't there, talking to the boy next to him, laughing. The only indication that he knew who you were was silent once and one that only you could distinguish.

He turned around and left as if nothing had happened.

Was it possible that only you had felt that way? That just your heart had decided it didn't know how to beat, as if a storm was raging inside your body?

You didn't have time to analyze what had just happened. You just forced yourself to take a deep breath and also keep walking as if those brief seconds weren't enough to make your entire world turn completely upside down.

Seokmin dragged his feet into the room, tripping over the rug at the foot of the bed. A curse came out of his mouth, followed by a burp. When he invited Chan to dinner he had no intention of ending the night drunk, being carried home like someone who had just had his first drink.

It had been years since he had gotten that bad and it was comical that the previous occasion was also connected to you.

The memory of leaving you at the airport, on a flight in the middle of the night, was still vivid in Seokmin's mind. Worse than that memory, was the one of you telling him that you had gotten a place in a master's degree on the other side of the world, 18 hours before leaving the country.

“I need to tell you something” you said as he pulled his coat over his head and patted his pockets, making sure he had grabbed his keys, wallet, and phone. He needed to leave as quickly as possible, he was already late.

Seokmin had plans to ask you to marry him. He had rented a house where you could spend the weekend, where it would be possible to see the stars. He had prepared himself, but he needed to leave right that second so he would have enough time to go to the house, get everything ready and come back to get you. The owner of the house would help him, since Seokmin decided that he wouldn't tell any of his friends because they might just ruin the surprise.

“I'm already late” he said, quickly looking at his watch. "Did something happen?"

He asked, noticing your already somewhat desperate look. He knew that whatever had happened couldn't be good.

To be honest, he had noticed that something was wrong a few weeks before, and for a while, he decided it would be better not to get into it too much. He knew you well enough to know that you would offer the information when you felt ready to do so. But thinking back on everything, he wished he had asked before, he wished he hadn't given you space, he wished he had forced you to talk to him sooner.

“I passed my master’s degree abroad”

Seokmin’s first reaction was to be happy for you. He knew how much you wanted that, that it was your dream. So he did what any boyfriend would do, he hugged you and congratulated you, told you that you had tried so hard and that they would be idiots not to accept you. The feeling was true and his smile was genuine. He was happy for you.

Knowing what he knew, every now and then Seokmin wondered if he would have done anything differently if he knew what the next words would be out of your mouth. He could have made a fuss, he could have begged you to stay, he could have offered to go with you. But at the time he didn't do any of that.

“I’m leaving today, I need to be at the airport at 11 pm”

Seokmin's ears rang deafeningly. It was as if he had been punched and needed to brace himself against something. The sofa was the closest piece of furniture.

He thought he heard it wrong, he wished he was dreaming, but all he had to do was look at you. It was true. It was as if a puzzle was being completed in Seokmin's mind. The way you had suddenly become distant, how every time he entered the room you hurried to change or close whatever you were looking at on the computer. He didn't even know you signed up. He imagined that you must have done some kind of test, some interview and he didn't even know anything about it.

He had no idea.

Had he been a bad boyfriend, someone who was so focused on making the long-awaited proposal that he had ignored everything else? Or had you hidden it so well that he hadn't noticed?

"What? You’re leaving today?"

It was like the world was spinning too fast and he was trying to keep up with what was happening. It was like being on a roller coaster that kept on falling. He remembered well how the little box with the ring he had carefully chosen weighed in his pocket.

“I didn’t even know you had applied for a position” he whispered, almost just to himself “You didn’t tell me”

And it was at that exact moment, when he looked at you, that Seokmin realized that your relationship was over. You avoided looking at him, your hands were buried deep in the pockets of your coat, which was his. He saw your eyes fill with tears, you swallow hard, and remain silent.

It was unlike you, to stay quiet when you had too many things going through your head. He desperately wanted you to talk to him, to tell him what had been going through your head. He just wanted to understand. Did you believe he would somehow stop you from going? If there was one thing he knew about you, it was the fact that you always put your education first. It wasn't a secret and you didn't want it to be. He just didn't expect things to happen that way.

Seokmin sat in front of the closet, on the floor, and with difficulty opened the doors. Deep in the back, behind several shoe boxes, were two old boxes that he hadn't moved in years. Part of him wished the things inside the boxes were ruined, that they had mold and anything else that could ruin its content. But he had been careful, kept everything in order, taken all necessary precautions, and cleaned the closet periodically.

He ignored the first box and pulled the smaller one towards him, placing it on his bent legs. Seokmin wasn't one to revisit those memories, he liked to keep them as far away from him as possible, but on nights like those, it was impossible.

Seokmin knew what he would find and was sure how he would feel, but he still took the lid off the box, but he didn't dare take out any of the items inside it.

He knew he had reached his lowest point when he was holding on to memories he had of you and not focusing on what was actually happening in his life.

Letter #3

Seokmin,

I talked to Joshua today. Talk is a bit too strong of a word. We exchanged a few words on Instagram. He posted a photo and I liked it, he sent me a DM asking if I was ok and how things were going. I lied, of course. He said everything was fine and he was happy. He didn't talk about you and I didn't ask.

It was very hard to contain myself. I want to know how you are. The more selfish part of my brain wants you to be just as bad as I feel. You know that little demon that sits on our shoulder? He assures me you're even worse. And I hate to think that's the case, but at the same time, I'm sure you're not okay. I know you, we dated for four years, we lived together for almost two years

You were always the more emotional one of the two of us. You were never afraid to show your feelings, not for me or anyone else. You always loved so openly, without any fear. I admit that at first, it scared me a little.

I was an 18-year-old girl who came from a family that had no idea how to show affection, so I was always more reserved in that aspect. And there you were with your beautiful, bright smile, with open arms, affectionate with anyone who came along. I thought you were a crazy person who didn't have the slightest notion of the world. It took a while for me to realize that your world was brighter than mine in ways I couldn't understand.

You were always so untethered, free, showing yourself to anyone who had eyes. When I was closed and more reclusive, you were open and expansive. When I was very shy or reserved, you were more charming and brighter than usual. Not even my worst mood, which seemed endless at times, was a problem for you.

One day you just showed up and decided that you would stay by my side, no matter what. Believe me when I say, I tried to push you away. But with each passing day you were further under my skin.

A kiss at a random party turned into a date at every party, parties became meetings at the college library, which led to coffee dates. One day you decided at the end of each date you had to take me back to the dorms and you kissed me for a long time on the side of the building where no one could see — or at least I made myself believe no one did. Then that alone wasn't enough and you were always with your fingers intertwined with mine, or your arm around my waist. And kisses were no longer reserved for empty streets, of course not. You kissed me anywhere, anytime, no matter who was watching.

You were sneaky, Seokmin.

When I realized it, I was in love with you. Your arms were my refuge. You were my safe space. My home.

yn.

You hated that Seokmin’s reaction, or lack thereof, had gotten to you so much. It was like being punched, and then one more, soon the punch became a beating and to finish with a flourish, it was as if a truck had run over you.

You had plans to go out at the weekend, though alone. Everything was so different, the places you knew no longer existed and friends from the past no longer spoke to you. You would have to rediscover the city without anyone's help. Despite your plans, you couldn't bring yourself to leave the house.

When you decided to return, you knew there would be no way to escape Seokmin. He had become successful not only in his career as a broadcaster but also as a celebrity of sorts. You never imagined you would see his face in magazines or on billboards selling fried chicken. You didn't expect that when you turned on the TV you would see his face in different programs.

In fact, you knew all of that was happening, but somehow you managed to convince yourself that you wouldn't have to see any of it. You managed to make yourself believe that you would not be haunted by his images and voice.

When you were away, you always listened to his programs, more than once each one, but it was almost like a relationship between fan and celebrity. You could separate very well what was him and what was you. But being there, in the same country, in the same city, it was much more difficult to make that separation.

Because once you were back, Seokmin was no longer just the radio host with a show about relationships. Far from it. Seokmin was your college sweetheart, the guy whose heart you broke but who, even after seven years, was still in love with.

That was the reality. you were still in love with him. There was no relationship in the world, no man in the world, that would have made you forget about Seokmin. Sometimes it worked, sometimes you managed to forget about him for a few months and that feeling of loss, of emptiness, that had settled deep inside your heart became smaller and smaller. And then it would come back full on as if it had never left.

Maybe that was your curse, your punishment for leaving behind someone you could have spent the rest of your life with. And somehow you knew you would have been happy. Or at least a different kind of happiness.

After spending the weekend holed up inside your apartment, after convincing yourself that you needed to prepare for teaching classes and unpacking the move, she decided that on Tuesday night she would explore the city.

Exploring wasn't the right word. You had discovered that one of your favorite restaurants still existed, it had just changed location. And, despite being on the other side of the city and being completely aware that you would have to pay a fortune for a taxi or risk taking the subway alone almost at closing time, you decided to go anyway.

You needed to feel like one thing hadn't changed, or at least still be recognizable.

You heard your name being called a few minutes after sitting down. You raised your head, recognizing the voice, but couldn't tell who it belonged to. Directly in front of you was a woman, with short hair, in her fifties.

“It’s really you!”

You stood up and a second later you were being hugged. Maybe you had gone there for that reason, knowing that there would be someone there who would recognize you. Or at least you hoped there was. And when you were welcomed with open arms by her owner, Niah, you wanted to cry for the first time in a long time.

“Hi” was all you could offer, your voice weak.

You quickly turned your face away, trying to be discreet as you wiped away your tears. The last thing you wanted was to cry in front of someone else. Tears were reserved for dark moments in the silence of your apartment, they weren't meant to be seen by people you didn't even know in a crowded restaurant.

“Look how beautiful you look. You haven't been around for so long. Seokmin told us that you had gone abroad to study, but I thought you would come back sooner.”

You just managed to smile, even though it was embarrassing. It was strange to hear his name coming out of someone else's mouth so easily. For years, his name was just an echo in your own mind, almost as if it were a fantasy of yours.

There were days when you managed to convince yourself of this, that Seokmin was nothing more than a dream.

“Are you just visiting or are you back to stay?”

“I'm staying” you said after a second, when you managed to find your voice again “I got a job here, I have nowhere to run”

Niah laughed and hugged you once again, tighter this time.

"Great, that makes me happy. We always miss you” Niah smiled and ran her fingers down your cheeks, brushing away some tears that were stubborn to fall “What do you want to eat? Today it's on the house. Consider it a welcome gift.”

You took a deep breath, swallowing the lump in your throat and the remaining tears.

"What do you recommend?"

The amazing thing about meeting Niah again was that she still acted exactly the same way. She didn't see you as someone who had simply packed a suitcase of clothes and left the country overnight. To Niah you were still that same person from 7 years ago who ate whatever she put in front of. You and Seokmin were always guinea pigs for all the new recipes.

The food was still wonderful, if anything it had just gotten better.

You had a fork halfway to your mouth when you heard the door open, the sound of the bell indicating the entry of a new customer. You almost instinctively turned to look. You choked on your own saliva when your eyes met Seokmin's.

It was as if you were back in the hallway that day. Your heart simply stopped, and the world fell into suspension. For a moment, it was as if you had been transported to the past. You were almost certain that if you looked at the table you would see books open next to the cutlery; you knew that if you looked at Seokmin for another second or two his face would break into the most beautiful smile, he would wave and call your name.

But your illusion shattered into small pieces as his neutral expression contorted into a frown. With the same foot he entered he turned to leave.

“Seokmin!” you called him, getting up from your chair.

Part of you thought he was going to continue out the door, but he stopped. Half of his body was outside the restaurant, the other inside.

“Hurry up and close that door!” Niah said leaving the kitchen “You’re letting out all the heat”

Even with Niah's voice calling him, Seokmin remained standing at the door. You sat back down, but without taking your eyes off him. He didn't know what he expected of him, but he felt an indescribable relief when Niah pulled him by the sleeve of his coat and forced him to sit in front of you.

“The restaurant is packed, so you will have to share a table” she said as she turned her back.

Seokmin shook his head, clearly against sitting there, staying in the restaurant, but he still took off his coat and hung it on the chair before leaning back and crossing his arms over his chest.

It was clear he was working out, his shoulders had gotten broader and his arms bigger since you last saw each other. You almost laughed at the pose, remembering all the times you had seen him in a similar situation. But this wasn't the time to laugh when everything else was screaming that he was uncomfortable with the situation, that he didn't want to be there.

It didn't take a genius to know that Seokmin wanted nothing to do with you. His reaction to seeing you in the hallway the week before and the way he was looking at you in that moment were enough answers.

You felt like the walls were closing in around you and there wasn't enough air in the room.

What were you thinking when you called his name? What were you thinking when you silently watched Niah pull him inside? Why were you still sitting there?

A waiter who worked with Niah passed by your table and you called him discreetly, not wanting to attract the attention of the restaurant owner.

“Can you wrap everything to go, please?” you turned to Seokmin “You can have the table. I was already leaving”

It was a lie, but he didn't need to know that.

Seokmin laughed lowly, scornfully, his sideways smile making the hair on your arms stand on end. In general, Seokmin has always been the type of guy who didn’t lose his cool easily, who would always rather let things go than have any kind of confrontation. But when he really got stressed out or nervous, it took a while for him to calm down again.

You had seen that storm in his eyes very few times in the years you spent together. The last one was when he went to the airport to say goodbye to you. That day the storm was just confusion and pain, you knew you had done that to him. But he sat there in the restaurant, in front of you, in silence while the people around him chatted animatedly, completely oblivious to what was happening between the two of you.

"What it was?" you rolled your eyes.

“Ah, nothing” he said, waving his hand in a dismissive gesture “It’s just like you to do that”

You narrowed your eyes at the same time you felt your cheeks get hot.

"Do what?"

"Runaway"

Letter #4

Seokmin,

It took me almost a year to convince myself that it was okay for me to look at social media. I convinced myself that every woman does this, that every now and then we look at our ex-boyfriend's Instagram, just to find out if his new girlfriend is ugly. I've told you this several times, but every female experience is universal.

I wish you were one of those low profile people, who post a picture every 6 months and it's a cut mango on a pretty plate. I wish you hadn't posted so many pictures. But more than anything, I wish I hadn't spent hours and hours looking at the photos. I wish I hadn't been analyzing every photo of you, I wish I hadn't thought “that's a new mole” and wondered which others had appeared since the last time we saw each other.

I had memorized every mole of yours. On your face, on your arms, on your back. On the worst days, when I missed you in a way that almost made me give up everything and go home, I kept remembering each one of them. I tried to remember the sound of your laugh, your voice, how you stroked my hair until I fell asleep when it wasn't a good day.

I keep wondering if one day this feeling will just go away.

It's been a year since I left. I went out with other guys, and I almost dated one of them, but you're always there in the back of my mind, almost comically because even against my will I can't help but compare them to you. I can't help but think that only you know how I like my coffee, how only you know that if I'm in my worst mood, there's no joke in the world that can make me laugh.

I know it's not fair to them. I gave you the chance to get to know me, I allowed you to get closer. I wanted you to come closer to me. Now I wonder if you're doing this for someone other than me.

I like to imagine that you also compare other women to me, that even now that you're dating I stay there, in the back of your mind, making fun of you.

Unfortunately, she's not ugly, but your smile was brighter when I was next to you.

yn.

To say that Seokmin had spent the rest of the week in an envious mood was an understatement. He was stressed and everyone around him soon noticed the change. He really tried not to let his personal life get in the way of his work. It was something he never struggled with. Work was work, what happened when the lights went out and he left the radio should never cross paths with each other. That week, however, it was impossible.

Meeting you at the restaurant caught him off guard. That day in the college hallway had been difficult, but he managed to just keep walking as if nothing had happened. He liked to pretend like he hadn't gone out with Chan right after and drank like there was no tomorrow, like he hadn't opened the boxes he had kept for years and cried while looking at the photos of the two of you together.

He had gone to the restaurant that day because he needed some form of comfort and didn't want to call any of his friends because he knew he would end up telling them everything that happened and would receive advice and words he would rather not hear. The restaurant was the best idea he had. Or maybe the worst possible one.

Maybe he had done it consciously, because he wanted to see you one more time, and wanted to make sure he hadn't imagined you. It wouldn't have been the first time.

In the first few months after you left, Seokmin got into the habit of visiting places he went with you, or places you liked to go alone. It was probably a form of torture, but he liked to imagine it was a way to forget and overcome the breakup. On several of those days, he believed he saw you. He realistically knew it wasn't you, he clearly remembered seeing you get on the plane and waited until it took off to leave the airport.

The worst thing that could have happened to him was you calling for him. Seokmin couldn't help but wonder if he had always reacted that way to you, if your presence was always so great that before he even saw you he knew you were nearby. That day, as soon as he opened the door, before he even saw you sitting there with your eyes wide open, he knew. He knew you were there.

The last thing he expected from you was you saying his name, as if asking him to sit with you, that Niah, knowing how the relationship had ended, would have made him sit in front of you.

Seokmin noticed your discomfort, the way your spine had become a little straighter, the way your eyes were hard and cautious at the same time. Your reaction made him angry. What right did you have to behave that way, as if you were hurt when all the decisions regarding a relationship both of you were in had been made by you?

You were the one who signed up for a master's degree abroad. It was you who never told him about your decision. It was you who kept everything secret, making him believe that the two of you were on the same page and that despite your different goals, you would be able to pursue them together.

Turns out he was wrong, those dreams were just his and didn't include him.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” Chan asked for the thousandth time.

For the first time in a long time, Seokmin was having a hard time hiding how he really felt. That polished, carefully carved mask had fallen. It was a completely atypical day and everyone was able to notice his sudden change in mood. Even Chan, who normally did a great job of ignoring all the problems around him and focusing solely on his work, seemed to be walking on eggshells around him.

“It’s really obvious, isn’t it?” Seokmin asked in a low voice and Chan just nodded "And if I pretend it's because of the new segment, will anyone believe it?"

Again, Chan nodded. Since he had started the program, 3 years before, Seokmin would receive calls and speak directly to listeners. Although there were always interactions, those were always done through live chat and email when he received questions or stories from people who were not listening to the program when it was airing.

Seokmin wasn't nervous about the idea, he was actually excited. Chan knew this and knew that whatever the problem was, it was still the same as the day of the lecture. He didn't want to ask, and he didn't want to seem invasive, but he still wanted to make sure Seokmin was okay — or at least, well enough to do the program.

“I think everyone is already thinking that” was a lie and even Seokmin knew it, but he was grateful.

“You may already know this, but today we will start a new segment. We'll call it the heart to heart helpline, at least until we find a better name at least” Seokmin's voice and laugh resonated through the taxi “We'll take your calls and some of you will be able to talk to me and ask your questions live, instead of by chat. Each person will have a maximum of 2 minutes and we will answer 6 calls today”

You had left the house completely willing to avoid anything related to Seokmin. Realistically, you knew you couldn't do anything about the billboards and his face at bus stops, but you could very well avoid his radio show. And for a few weeks you had managed to do just that.

That day at the restaurant had almost been a cathartic moment. Somehow, it was as if something had clicked and fallen into place. The Seokmin you left behind no longer existed. It had been a naive thought to think so. You didn't expect that he would still be exactly the same person, of course not. Seven years had passed and Seokmin, like you, was approaching his thirties. Obviously, many things had changed, but you still expected to see traces of that 22-year-old boy you had known and loved.

You didn't spend more than five minutes with him at that table. And it was much more than enough. He had accused you of running away, of continuing to do this for years. Of course, that could be his view on everything, but it was never your intention. The only problem was that you hadn't been able to tell him those things. You had been so lost and so completely helpless in front of him that you had forgotten that you knew how to speak and form sentences.

You had spent years of your life writing letters to him, letters that he would never read, but that was beside the point. You wrote letters as a way to appease the emptiness you felt in your heart. You never, not for a second, thought you were running away. You never wanted to run away, but Seokmin seemed to believe you did.

In a sudden burst of anger, you took your phone out of your bag and dialed the number Seokmin spoke on the radio. You didn't expect your call to go through. In fact, you didn't even know what you expected.

“Please wait a minute, we will connect your call” a non-robotic voice said as you paid for the taxi.

Seokmin was still chatting animatedly with a listener who didn't have a real question, but who “just wanted to say that I really liked your show and that I’m a fan.” It was impossible not to roll your eyes. If she, and everyone else, knew how much of a complete asshole he could be just because he had the opportunity, they would never want to see his face again.

Or maybe they would team up against you in favor of the immaculate Seokmin. God knew how easily a man could turn public opinion in his favor with a beautiful smile. And God was also a witness that Seokmin's smile was simply wonderful, one that took your breath away, one that made you smile along because it was contagious.

“Welcome to the heart to heart helpline” Seokmin’s voice sounded in your ear “What’s your question?”

You didn't really think that your call would get through to Seokmin, you didn't think the signal would be good enough inside the elevator, but none of that seemed to be a problem.

“Hello, can you hear me?” he asked.

You took a deep breath and closed your eyes. You knew you were going really crazy, but you decided to throw caution out the window and be the crazy person everyone used to believe you were.

“Yes, I’m here” you could have sworn, that even over the phone, you felt Seokmin tense up “It’s a question about an old relationship, we broke up years ago, if that’s okay”

You struggled with your keys, trying to unlock the door as quickly as possible. You needed to get to your computer or tablet, whichever was closer. It was almost a physical necessity to see Seokmin's reaction to your voice, your question.

You always knew how to tell if he was truly calm or if he was masking what he was feeling. You wanted to know if you still had any other sort of effect on him. Whatever it was, it was better than angry disdain.

“Old relationships should stay in the past, don’t you think?” he finally said.

You nodded as you ran into your room. You knew you would find the tablet under your pillow — you were sure that if your mother saw it she would say that your brain would explode due to the radiation from the device. With a few taps, you opened the stream of Seokmin's program.

“I think so. But the problem is that we keep seeing each other. I don’t think it’s something either of us want, but it seems inevitable.”

You turned the sound off, you just wanted to focus on his reactions. Seokmin swallowed hard, his eyebrows furrowed and his eyes fixed on the microphone in front of him. To anyone, it just seemed like he was concentrating on the call, on what the person on the other end of the line had to say, but you knew very well that it was to hide his reactions.

"Your question?"

“Well, he called me selfish and said I ran away when we broke up, but that's not exactly what happened. I wanted to talk to him, but I don’t think he wants to listen to me.”

Seokmin took a deep breath and seemed to think about what to say next, his eyes no longer on the microphone, but on the ceiling.

“And why does he think that about you? You probably gave him reasons, don't you think? I don’t think anyone would think that about someone without anything having happened.”

“I always dreamed of studying abroad, so when the opportunity came, I went. I…"

“Did you tell him you were going?” Seokmin clenched his fists on the desk, his fingers gripped the pen in his hand tightly until his knuckles were white. “Did you give him a chance to say something or did you just walk away?”

You were speechless, eyes focused only on Seokmin. The way his hair perfectly framed his face, his sculpted thin nose. He was still exactly like he was seven years ago, just somehow different. He was the same, but he also wasn't.

You hadn't given him the chance to say anything, you had just walked away, but because you believed it was the best thing to do. You would have stayed if he had asked, I would have aborted all of your plans for him,

“Long distance relationships don’t work” you said finally, your voice lower “especially when there’s an ocean separating people”

“I'm going to guess and say that you were together for a while because I don't think anyone would care that much about a quick relationship” his voice became more sober, completely in control of his emotions, the opposite of what you felt, like you were enclosed every second that passed “I agree with you, long-distance relationships don’t work. Different cities are already complicated, I can't imagine what it would be like to be with someone who lives in another country. You didn't give many details, but I believe he had reasons to feel that way, just as you had your reasons for leaving without warning. I think the best thing for both of you is to let it fall into oblivion. It makes no sense for either of you to dwell on these feelings. Maybe your desire to talk exists because you think you've left things open with him, but he may think that what's in the past shouldn't be remembered. Maybe you're just a bad relationship he wants to forget.”

Letter #5

Seokmin

I found out by chance that you now have your own radio show. One day it was an empty slot in the schedule and the next it was your voice. To my joy and delight, it was one of those programs that also had video streaming. I say joy and delight in a very ironic way.

But I'm not lying when I say I'm happy for you. You always said it was your dream and in a way, here we are, achieving our dreams. It would have been better if we could have lived through this together, I think. Maybe if that were the case I wouldn't have this empty feeling inside my chest.

But I discovered a long time ago that I can't keep crying over spilled milk. I left and you moved on with your life. They were conscious choices, I knew what I was doing. I knew that making this choice would have hurt both of us, but I also knew that we could overcome it. It's just taking longer than expected. I honestly thought that by this point, so many years later, we would have been able to live as if the past were just that, the past.

But it's not like that for me or for you.

I may be completely crazy, but your show is about love advice and how to deal with heartbreak. Sometimes, when I hear you talk, I'm sure you've already dealt with all your feelings, after all, you've had other girlfriends. But there are other moments, when you answer a question or when you read one of the pre-written texts when I'm sure that what you said applies directly to what we both had.

I'm going crazy, aren't I?

It's been four years since I left. I already finished my master's degree and started my PhD, exactly as planned. I have a date tonight with a guy who seems genuinely nice, but here I am, writing yet another letter that will never be sent to the guy I was in love with.

What am I still doing?

Seokmin had always believed that for a relationship to truly end there must be no trace of it anywhere. When he told his listeners that they should get rid of items, it was not a lie. He was just terrible at following his own advice. The old story of do as I say, not as I do.

Finally, he decided it was time to take his own advice. With a little pain and resentment added to the mix, of course. At this point, he wondered if he could already be considered a masochist or if he still had a few boxes to tick to get the title.

Getting your address had been easier than expected. All he had to do was ask Niah, who offered the information without any resistance.

“Being thirty didn't make either of you any smarter,” she said as she leaned across the table and wrote the address on the napkin.

“Almost thirty” he felt the need to correct her, but decided he would ignore the hidden message in her words.

Seokmin never stopped going to Niah's restaurant. It was there that he had cried his sorrows over the cheapest drinks possible, he didn't have the money to pay for the good ones, while Joshua tried to console him. He had never seen Niah so stressed and angry. She hadn't said anything, but you could clearly hear the sound of her cutting the vegetables more aggressively than necessary.

Little by little she became calmer about the situation and started talking about you with the same affection as before. Seokmin always thought she had somehow kept in touch with you, or at least found a way to get your number or a way to contact you. At first, he had been angry, but somehow he believed he didn't have that right. It was only after a year that Seokmin decided to ask and the answer he received was “if I still had contact with her, I would have already screamed at her about disappearing without telling anyone”.

Asking Niah for your address was the only option he had. He refused to go to college, where you worked. He didn't know what would happen, whether you would be friendly with each other or the conversation would end in a shouting match just because. Because after years of no contact and considering the way things ended, it was pretty obvious that resentment could resurface — at least Seokmin had resentment up to his neck and knew that not releasing them all at once required almost inhuman self-control.

He looked at the building one more time before getting out of the car. It was one of those without a doorman. Seokmin knew that if he rang and asked to be let in, the probability of being sent to hell was very high. So he pulled up his cap down and covered as much of his face as he could while he balanced the boxes on his arms.

He stood there like a madman for almost twenty minutes until someone finally left the building. Seokmin felt like he was committing a crime when he slipped through the door before it closed. Even though the feeling was strange he made himself believe it was the only option he had and he really didn't have any bad intentions. He just wanted to return your things and, hopefully, arrange that if you ever met again, you’d simply pretend you don't know each other, instead of talking nonsense to each other.

Seokmin took a deep breath once before knocking on the door. He heard footsteps and a second later the door opened.

When you imagined what your Wednesday night would be like, the only option that crossed your mind was to order a pizza and watch a movie — the random option of Netflix seemed like your best friend and the only possible option because you weren't even able to choose what to watch by yourself.

Not even in your wildest daydreams could you have imagined that Seokmin would show up at your door with two boxes in his hand.

You were partially tempted to close the door on his face, but you knew that doing so would only make the whole situation worse. If Seokmin, who clearly didn't have any good feelings about you, was standing there at your door it was because he had something to say. Or more precisely to hand it over to you, considering the boxes in his arms.

Silently you stepped aside so he had enough room to enter. You wanted to slap yourself for the complete war zone that your living room was in. You were still unpacking the moving boxes, not that you had taken much with you. It was too expensive to send things from one country to another, especially furniture. You had only focused on your clothes and books and a few things you wanted to keep, and that alone was more than you were willing to spend. In addition to the boxes, you had all the things you still had to buy, but you still didn't have the mind to do it.

You had so much going through your head that cleaning the apartment was just another task you wanted to avoid. But it was one that could be left for later. In the few minutes that Seokmin spent there, you wished you had tidied it up, that he hadn't seen how that room represented your life at that moment: a complete mess.

"What are you doing here?" you finally asked when you managed to get your vocal cords to work properly.

Seokmin didn't seem to care about the mess but paid attention to everything else around him.

He placed the boxes on the counter and took off his cap, pressing the brims with his fingertips looking for what to say next. He had rehearsed an almost poetic speech in the car, something about being adults and how your relationship had ended a long time ago, so neither of you should have any regrets left. But the moment you opened the door and looked at him it was as if all the words had simply evaporated from his mind, as if he had never learned to speak in the first place.

It had always been that way with you. Sometimes when he looked at you, even when you were still together, he got lost. He was like a man adrift who had finally found solid land. It was as if he heard a click and the world started to move once again.

One of his favorite things, when you were dating and living together, was being able to come home after an exhausting day and see you sitting on the sofa in the living room, your computer on your lap, while you studied, occasionally shouting profanities at the computer. On those days, Seokmin would simply push the computer away and lay his head on your lap.

“Just five minutes” he used to say with his eyes closed.

You’d laugh, fingers immediately running through his hair, as if it was the most natural movement in the world.

“Who do you want me to insult today? You know my vocabulary is very colorful.”

How many times had he slept in that position, without meaning to, and you had to drag him to bed because “it's comfortable for you, but my legs are numb and you have to take a shower, you won't sleep dirty next to me, sir”.

It was impossible not to wonder where it all went wrong.

“I came to return your things” he pointed at the boxes.

You suppressed the urge to bend down and rummage through the boxes. You wanted to know what he had kept, what he considered important enough to keep for so many years. You knew he no longer lived in the apartment you shared. When you were looking for apartments you saw that that one was up for rent. It was necessary to restrain yourself from choosing it. It wasn't a good apartment, at least not at the time — the photos on the website said the property had undergone renovations two years earlier and had no tenants since. It wasn't big, it barely fit one person, but it was what your extremely limited budget could afford at the time. Somehow you and Seokmin turned that small space into a home full of life. Of love.

In the places where you lived, you bought all kinds of trinkets to fill the space, furniture you didn't need and never used, hoping to imitate, for even a second, the feeling you had in that little 35 square meter apartment.

You never quite managed to do that.

“Thank you” you said sincerely “I thought all my things had gone in the trash”

You laughed and Seokmin squeezed the back of his head and pointed at the boxes.

“I sold what I could, I didn't want to put it in storage because I really thought we would never see each other again. The money is in an envelope”

“Why did you keep all this?” the words came out of your mouth before you could stop yourself “You should have thrown it away or, since you sold it, you should have spent the money”

Seokmin had asked himself that question several times before, sober or not, and he never had an answer. After a while, he simply stopped questioning and accepted it as something he had to do, to have some kind of sanity. It didn’t. Knowing that those boxes were inside his wardrobe, having to go through them the two times he moved, only brought back memories that he would like to forget.

Ever since you had seen each other again for the first time, memories that Seokmin had struggled to bury came to the surface as if they had just happened. He started to dream about you, dreams that range from memories to things that never actually happened, he started to wonder if it would be okay to talk with someone. His brain always screamed NO, so he was stuck just dreaming.

“I don’t have a good enough reason. It is what it is, I guess,” he said.

The last time Seokmin felt so embarrassed around you was right when you met and even then it only lasted a few minutes. The 18 year old Seokmin was much braver than the 29 year old man in front of him.

That boy, without any guilt or remorse, would have asked every question that could cross his mind. You’d say “your mind is beautiful, it even echoes sometimes”. Seokmin wanted to still have some of that boy's strength. Maybe that was the only way to know what he wanted. He wouldn't ask and he knew you wouldn't offer the information to him without being pressured.

“I think in the end, we both got what we wanted.”

You realized you said the wrong thing when you looked at Seokmin’s hands. A second before he was clutching his cap until his knuckles turned white, the next his long fingers were still. You didn't want to see the expression on his face. You knew what you’d find. You messed up, but couldn’t take back what you said.

“You got what you wanted” Seokmin corrected you, his voice firm, his tone hard.

“You always wanted to have a radio show”

“No, I wanted you. I could adapt to everything else if it meant I would have you.”

You shook your head. You knew it wasn't true. Hell, even Seokmin knew it wasn’t true. The first time you talked, Seokmin mentioned how much he wanted to be a radio host and have his own show, of any kind. I don't have a preference, I know I can give anything my own colors. You felt envious of his certainty, of the way he knew he could do it.

“The show has always been your dream” you tried again, despite knowing it was in vain to argue with him.

“My dream was to have a life by your side. You never, not once, told me that you signed up to study abroad, you never even mentioned it. When it was time to go you just got on a plane and disappeared. You never even gave me the chance to follow you. I could have been a journalist anywhere in the world”

Seokmin hated the direction of that conversation, hated being so exposed in front of you after so many years. In the past, it wasn't a problem. Before he wanted to be exposed in front of you, he wanted to share everything he was, every aspect of himself with you. No more. The problem was that he couldn't just stop. A gate was opened and there was no way to close it.

“So, what? Would we both be living based on our dreams? Because this is a dream, and you know it very well.”

You clung to the top rail of the chair, your head lolling forward in an almost futile attempt to stop him from seeing the tears forming in your eyes. You knew you couldn't hold them.

You weren't the type of person who cried often, you did what you could to avoid it, but when the tears came it was impossible to simply stop them from falling.

“Yeah, maybe I was really dreaming, because I believed that you loved me in the same proportion, but it’s quite obvious that you didn’t”

Seven years of pent-up frustration couldn't just disappear, he should have known. He should have imagined that going there would be a problem, that being in the same space as you without any kind of interference was a mistake. But he was still there and there was no way to escape. It was better to end everything quickly than to keep those feelings for another seven years in the hopes of one day being able to say something.

Seokmin watched as you went to one of the boxes in the corner of the room and opened it forcefully, tearing the cardboard, and causing some of the contents to slide across the floor. He felt his body freeze as a roll of film stopped at his feet.

“So explain to me, why do I buy a roll of film every time I pass by a store?” you put both hands inside the box and took out several rolls of film, of different brands and models. “Explain to me, why have I followed your career all this time and never missed a damn show in the last 3 years? Why would I wake up in the middle of the night to watch the broadcast and then listen to the show again while going to work because I just wanted to hear your voice?”

You walked to another box, but you opened this one a little more carefully as if wanting to protect the contents.

“Why did I spend 7 years writing letters that would never be read to a guy I never loved?”

You threw several envelopes at Seokmin’s chest. Your face and body shook out of anger or another feeling he couldn't quite tell.

Seokmin bent down to pick up one of the envelopes from the floor. His name was written in your careful handwriting. He didn't need to look at all the other ones to know that they were also addressed to him. He didn't know how many letters were scattered on the floor, or if there were any left in the box. The only thing he was sure of was that he had no idea how to proceed.

“If that doesn’t say I loved you, if that doesn’t say I still love you, I don’t know what the fuck does.”

Seokmin saw the first tear run down your face and fell silent. He knew he should turn his back, he knew he should walk away, just like you did seven years before. Instead, he took four steps in your direction, his eyes never left your heaving chest and the tears that ran freely over your cheeks.

At that moment he knew that he only had two options: he could turn around and leave, he gave you back your things that alone made his plan a success; or he could kiss you like he had been wanting to since the moment he saw you again.

To hell with his plan.

Seokmin held your face in his hands and pulled you to him, crashing his lips on yours. It was an all too new feeling but also familiar, almost like coming to a remodeled home. It was him and it was you, if only it was just that simple.

You sighed into him, your arms wrapping around his slim waist while your hand balled a fist full of his shirt. There were so many moments where you wished you could be right in that spot, again in his arms. Dreams and daydreams, wishful thinking, whatever you could call it. Thoughts of Seokmin had always been a constant in your mind. It was impossible not to compare other people you went out with to him.

Your longest relationship had been one of almost a full year. Although the beginning had been good and easy, with you somehow managing to avoid any and all Seokmin related dreams and thoughts, it turned sour the second he crossed your mind.

“Seokmin, I…”

He shook his head and pressed his forehead to yours, eyes so intense that it was difficult to keep looking at him.

“Let’s not overthink it, okay?” was all he said.

You held his face for a couple, searching for something in his features, anything at all, that could indicate that the moment wasn’t for that. But all you saw in him was the same emotions you felt, the same need and desire.

You pulled Seokmin to you again, this time hungrier, your chest pressed to his. Your mind was loud telling you all the reasons why you shouldn’t be doing that, why having him so close to you was truly the most dangerous situation you could possibly put yourself in. But all of those voices, all of those words and thoughts were silenced the moment he kissed you again.

His lips were hungry, demanding all of you. And it was so easy to just give in to him, to his hands roaming on your body, down your back until he reached your ass. He gave it a light squeeze and ran his hand back up again, this time under your shirt. You moaned softly at the contact of his skin on yours, as he kissed your neck, bitting on the exact same spot he found years before.

He smiled over your skin.

“At least this hasn’t changed”

It was all too much but not nearly enough. Just having him that close to you was dizzying enough but him touching you and enjoying the fact that you were just as weak for him at twenty nine made you never want to let go of him again.

“Where’s your room?”

You took Seokmin by the hand, guiding him through the narrow corridor.

Your room was barely a room to begin with. You had no furniture except for the mattress lying on the floor, your clothes were either on the suitcase or on the chair on the side.

“This is unlike you” Seokmin said, his chest pressed to your back while he nibbled on the skin of your neck.

“I… hm… I” you sturred a little when he bit into a particularly sensitive spot, making him chuckle “I’m waiting on delivery”

Seokmin turned you around in his arms while lightly pushing you down on the mattress. His eyes never left yours as he ran his hand under your shirt, moving the fabric up until your chest was exposed.

It had been so long since you had been with anyone, it was almost like a reflex to want to pull your shirt back down. Since him, it had been hard to just let yourself be exposed to someone like that. You had become awfully aware of your body and things you never cared for or paid attention to before suddenly became worries. You didn't like that insecure version of yourself but when Seokmin cupped your breast in his hand his touch was almost solemn.

It was probably the worst timing in the world when you felt tears burn on the back of your eyes. You pulled his face to yours again, trying to hide your tears from him once again.

Suddenly, his touch was tender when he pushed a few strands of hair away from your face, his fingers careful.

Seokmin moved down on your body. When you saw his fingers on the waistband of shorts you lifted your hips off of the mattress to help him move the fabric down quicker.

He kissed your hips and inner thigh. You moaned in anticipation, your hand taking a fist full of his soft hair. When his lips finally found your clit it was like fireworks erupted behind your closed eyelids.

Seokmin was impossibly hard in his pants, embarrassingly so like he was a teenager having his first time.

He never thought that he would have you in his arms again and yet there you were in front of him, no reservations. Just for him. And for a moment it was like his brain was in short circuit, the small electric waves running all over his body, down to his toes.

He licked a path from your cunt to your clit. He went down on you almost in desperation, his nose brushing on your clit every now and then.

"Seokmin..." his name was barely a whisper in your lips, but it was also a chant.

Your orgasm hits you quickly, leaving you short of air and with shaky legs. You were spiraling in the most enticing way possible. It didn't stop Seokmin though as he kept sucking you frantically.

You tugged on his hair, pulling him up and to you again.

I love you, the words almost fell out of your lips. It would have been so easy to just say them, to be open about your feelings just this once.

Deep down you knew that that moment would be a one time kind of thing. It was just the kind of moment people sometimes needed to just completely let go of everything. Or in this case, nothing. It was to let go of seven years of complete nothingness and silence.

You opened the button of his jeans and pushed it down, his boxers following along. You wrapped your hand around his cock, pumping him a couple of times. Realization suddenly came over you. You never expected Seokmin to show up to your place, much less that it would lead to that moment, and there wasn't anyone else in your life, so you weren't ready for it.

"I don't have a condom" you said breathlessly.

Seokmin looked lost for a second, his brain going to his wallet, questioning whether or not he had one in him.

"I can pull out," he said "if that's okay"

All you did was nod and Seokmin aligned himself with your hole. He pushed in slowly, savoring each moment when your pussy pulled him in until there was no space between the two of you.

Seokmin kissed you again to give himself time to adjust to you squeezing him. You held his face close to yours, in your eyes a mix of emotions he didn't want to understand. Not in that moment at least.

"I don't want anyone else," you said looking into his eyes, your thumb running over his bottom lip "No one else can make me feel the way you do"

To hell with care and self-preservation. You let go of those the moment you opened the door for him, the moment you let him into your home, the moment you didn't push him away when he kissed you.

Seokmin fucks you slowly, his pace torturous as you beg and beg for more. He intertwined his fingers with yours and held one of your hands above your head while the other one held your hips in place.

"Seokmin... harder"

And it's like a switch has gone off inside his brain. His once slow pace becomes shallow. The sound of your breaths and his skin slapping against yours were the only ones heard, echoing through the empty room.

Your orgasm sneaks up on you, catching you so off guard you scream because it's too much.

You pushed Seokmin away and watched in ecstasy as he wrapped his hand around his cock, his hand working fast as your name left his lips when his release fell on the sheet by your side.

Seokmin dropped his body over yours again, his forehead on your shoulder. You closed your eyes and ran your hand over his hair.

"I love you" you allowed yourself to say, even if it meant nothing to him.

Letter #6

Seokmin,

I never thought I'd say this, but I'm coming home. Or the closest thing I still have to a home. Needless to say, my mother is happy with the news. She's been tormenting me for years, asking me to come back, but since I set foot here I decided I wasn't going back.

I wanted to, but I wouldn't go back.

Every time I thought about going back, the first thing that came into my head was the last image I had of you. Your teary eyes wishing me a safe flight, saying I love you and hope you accomplish everything you want. I regretted it the moment I gave my things away and handed my passport into the hand of the airline girl. I should have come back, I should have given up, but I couldn't. That old story of putting myself first and second, you know how it goes. In this case, my entire top 10 was just different versions of me.

I think I actually felt scared because as time went by, little by little without me realizing it right away, you became a very big part of my life. A part that could change everything. I felt like I depended on you too much. It wasn't fair to you or me.

We were only 22, Seokmin. When we were so young, we thought that life was conquered and today I know that is not the case. Far from it. At 22 I had a degree and worked part-time at a cafe to pay the bills, just like you.

You might think I'm selfish, I'm sure you do based on the things you say on your show. I was selfish and on some level, I don't regret it. I did what I always planned to do, what I always wanted to do. And now I'm coming home.

Part of me wants to run and find you, explain why I made the decisions I did, why I never told you. But I know you won't want to listen to me. I wouldn't want to listen to me either. Why would I listen to someone who left just like that? It really wouldn't make sense.

But another part, this one a little more rational, says that I shouldn't throw salt into the wound after so many years have gone by. I have the scar here, hidden enough for no one to see, but prominent enough for me to remember what I did every single day.

I think that's what I'm going to do. I think that's what I have to do. It wouldn't be fair to just show up in front of you and say “hi, I'm back” after seven years.

You have become a big “what if” for me. What if I had stayed? Would we have stayed together or would our relationship have ended years ago? What if I had told you what I was doing while I was doing it? Would you have asked me to stay? What if I had given the possibility of a long-distance relationship? Would we have worked out or would you start to resent me for leaving and end up hurting each other anyway?

The most absurd thing is that I still like you, I'm still in love with you. I've always heard that distance makes love end or something like that. I haven't seen you in seven years, I don't know what's going on in your life — you're really good at hiding everything being a celebrity now — so it doesn't make any sense that my feelings haven't changed even after all this time. This guy I see online might not be the Seokmin I fell in love with, just like I'm not the same person you remember.

Every time I hear your voice I still feel butterflies in my stomach. I sleep and dream about you. When I wake up I think about you and I wonder if you think about me too. It is not normal. It's not healthy. Life went on and I think it is our obligation to move forward together. We are not a museum to only feed on the past.

Let's continue as we are now, what do you think? We will once again be in the same country, in the same city, but I think it's best for both of us to pretend that nothing will change. It's a huge city, what are the chances of us meeting?

Before you even opened your eyes, you already knew what you would find. Or who you wouldn't find. You knew the space next to you on the mattress would be empty. You had noticed the exact moment Seokmin had gotten up, but you forced yourself to believe that he had just gone to the bathroom. You had kept your eyes closed and had somehow gone back to sleep.

You had been naive to think that the night had changed something, that the way everything seemed like it would be fine was an indication that things had finally gotten back on track. If any, the train simply ended up derailing.

When Seokmin kissed you it was magical, no matter how cliché and teenage it may sound. It was as if the world had fallen into place again, as if you had finally returned home after being away for so long. You couldn't help but wonder if that was why you'd taken the job, in the foolish, unconscious hope that there might be a chance, however slight, of being with him again.

You forced yourself to sit up and pulled the sheet up to cover your naked body. The shirt and shorts you wore the night before were next to you on the floor, but you refused to wear those clothes, opting to rummage through the boxes in the corner of the room looking for clean ones.

You didn't want to go to the living room, didn't want to be mocked by the two boxes that Seokmin had left on the counter, but you couldn't help it. It was as if your feet had a life of their own. When you realized it, you were already sitting on the living room floor with the two boxes in front of you.

You momentarily decided to ignore the smaller black box and pulled the large one closer. The first thing you saw was the envelope Seokmin mentioned the night before. Money, especially the one in the envelope, wasn't something you were going to worry about. You didn't care about it, you didn't lie when you told him that he should have spent it. That money would remain untouched.

There were also a few books you read and made annotations on, two stuffed animals, and all the picture frames you had left behind.

One of the things you regretted the most was not taking with you when you left were photos of you and Seokmin. You had only taken one, which was folded inside your wallet. It was already so old and worn out that it had almost turned to dust, but you would never get it out. It was you and Seokmin at Niah's old restaurant, he was smiling at the camera while you looked at him. It was your favorite picture.

At the bottom of the box was the camera you had given Seokmin as a birthday present a few months before you left. You had saved whatever money you could for months to buy him the camera he wanted, one that he always talked about and whenever you passed by a store you stood outside looking at it, almost as if it would magically appear in his hands.

You understood his reasons for leaving the camera there — or, at least, the reasons you could imagine—but you wished he had kept using it. Not because it was a gift from you, but because it was something he wanted. His smile was so big when you gave it to him, the tip of his nose slightly pointed down because of it.

Carefully you put everything back inside and put it aside.

The smaller box, for some reason, was scary. It was light and black, and you could hear its contents moving as you held it in your hands. You took one last deep breath and removed the lid.

Inside were photos you had never seen before. Photos of you alone, Seokmin wasn't in any of them. In none of them were you posing or smiling directly at the camera.

Most of them had been taken from a distance, without you noticing. In some you were inside the cafe where you worked, smiling at customers and serving tables, in others you were simply walking down the street, looking through window shops and pointing at something. Seokmin had taken countless photos of you without you even realizing it.

It was strange to see yourself through his eyes, even if it was a version of you that no longer existed. A much younger and more optimistic version. Did I smile that much? you couldn't help but ask. You never saw yourself as particularly optimistic or constantly smiling. You were happy, that's undeniable, but you didn't know that's how people saw you.

There were so many photos, from completely different moments, both from the beginning of your relationship with Seokmin, and from all the phases you went through together.

Behind the pictures were the post-its that you left around the apartment, reminding Seokmin of somewhere you had together or simply saying that you loved him. So many had a simple “I love you” written on them, others said “have a good day today!”.

You had no idea he had kept them. You always thought that once read, they were discarded, but there they were, intact as if you had just written them.

The very first one you had ever written, when you had just started dating, was also there. At the time, unlike Seokmin who never had a hard time expressing how he felt, it was almost impossible for you to be openly honest. So you wrote it on a post-it and stuck it inside one of his notebooks. He had shown up at the dorm a few hours after you left the library.

“Say it again, but this time looking at me”

You frowned, pretending you didn't understand.

“Your nose is beautiful”

You laughed when Seokmin wrapped his arms around you, squeezing a little, trapping your arms close to your body. His face was very close to yours.

“What you wrote in the note” he said softly, his cheek pressed against yours “Say it again, please”

The truth was that you had loved Seokmin, in a way you didn't believe was possible and maybe that was why you spent the last seven years writing letters to him.

Seokmin never left your mind, not truly. There was always a desire, even if veiled, to return home, to find out how he was, to just say “I know I messed up, I’m sorry”.

It was that desire that made your entire body go cold as you took one last item out of the box. A smaller box that fit in the palm of your hand. You knew what it was before you even opened it and opening it was the worst choice at that moment. Your heart, which was already broken, somehow managed to break even more, into a billion, shiny, new pieces.

Seokmin would have proposed if you hadn't left.

When the first sob echoed through the living room, you didn't try to hold it back, you just accepted the feeling of being absolutely lost and heartbroken.

The weather outside the building seemed to mimic the way you had felt in the last few weeks, torrential rain that had no end in sight. You watched the news hoping for an improvement, hoping that the rain would stop for at least a few hours, but it seemed like a distant dream.

All your students were already gone and there was nothing left for you to do. The handed in assignments were graded and the tests were ready to be applied the following week. You had never hated yourself so much for simply doing your job. You wanted to be, at least for that day, like other teachers who left corrections until the last possible second and left students desperate for their grades.

The hallway was in complete silence, a clear sign that everyone had left already. And you had already waited hours for the rain to stop, until the sky was completely dark, and if anything the rain had only gotten worse.

You sighed and picked up your bag from the chair. You wouldn't risk taking any books, papers, or documents home, the possibility of everything getting ruined was too big. Besides, you needed a rest, at that point it was well deserved.

Ever since you had opened the boxes Seokmin left behind, you had immersed yourself in work in every way possible. You had accepted all of the dean's requests and even offered to teach extra classes whenever there was a missing professor.

And even so, even though you had more work than you wanted, you still found time to look at all of his social media. You still listened to all his programs, even listened to the old ones before going to sleep.

It was almost like a form of elaborate torture done solely and exclusively with you in mind. And worst of all, it was self-inflicted. It was as if your brain liked it, begged for it.

The box with the engagement ring was next to your pseudo bed. It was the last thing you saw before going to sleep and the first thing you saw when you woke up. Instead of spending hours on your phone, you sat there, staring at the small box.

You hadn't dared to open it again. You had never felt so lost as you did that day, looking at that ring.

You wouldn't be a hypocrite to say that you had never imagined your life if you had married Seokmin, but before it was nothing more than a daydream. The ring made that dream an attainable reality. It had been in your hands and you just walked away.

A curse left your lips when you noticed that the umbrella you had used that morning was missing from the umbrella holder next to the door.

“Great, that’s exactly what I needed” you muttered, slamming the door shut behind you.

You were tired, exhausted to tell the truth. All you wanted was to get home, take a shower, and watch some relationship reality show, to escape the tragedy that was your own love life.

You closed your eyes and sighed as you reached the entrance. The next bus stop or subway station was at least a 15 minute walk away. That was a problem that existed when you went to school there, everything was far away. One would think that they would do something to improve that, but one would be wrong.

You thought about taking shelter in the nearest coffee shop, but you knew it was almost closing time. You wouldn't be the person who forces employees to stay late, not when you had worked at that exact coffee shop years ago.

Even with your heavy coat covering most of your body, the rain was cold on your back and it was hard to see anything ahead, even if it was just a few steps away. Even the sound of cars was muffled by the rain.

“yn?” a car was on your left, and it was moving at the same speed as you. The face of whoever was behind the wheel was blurred by the rain, but you would have recognized that voice anywhere in the world.

“Let me give you a ride”

You shook your head. The last thing you should do was get in the car with him. It was too dangerous, you were sure that if you looked at him for more than a second you’d start crying. Just by hearing his voice your eyes were burning and a lump was forming in your throat.

“It’s fine, the bus stop is right there”

“There was an accident back there, the bus won’t be here anytime soon”

You grumbled. Of course, there was an accident, of course, there wouldn't be a bus and with your luck, the subway would probably be closed too.

"If your car went through the accident, a taxi will too”

You quickened your pace, not because of the rain, but because you wanted to get away from him. You needed to get away from him.

“Jesus, yn, just get in the car. You’re going to get sick”

You pretended you didn't hear what he said and kept walking, face down – trying to escape both the rain and him. The first tear fell from your eyes. For the first time in days, you were grateful for the rain, because you could pretend it was just water and not a visual representation of your broken heart on your cheeks.

Seokmin stopped the car right there, in the middle of the street. He didn't care if someone was standing behind him honking like crazy — something that was bound to happen.

When he left your apartment that day he felt like he was 22 again, but this time he was the one leaving.

Hearing that you loved him was everything he had wanted, but the timing was strangely right and wrong, both at the same time.

Both of you screamed, shouted, and said what you wanted to say — or at least part of what you wanted to say. A weight had been lifted from his shoulders, at the same time a new one was placed on it.

After you fell asleep in his arms, the only thing Seokmin could think about were the letters scattered across the living room floor. There were so many. He couldn't believe you had spent all those years writing letters to him.

He needed to read them all. He would have done it in the living room, but he didn't know what awaited him, so he collected them all from the floor and a few more that had been left in the box and left.

He read the first one in the car, he couldn't wait until he got home.

Seokmin cried right there, the same way he cried when you left. Inconsolable. His heart broke and healed in equal measure with every word of yours he read.

Seokmin always believed that you left like that, without a single word, because you didn't like him that much, because you didn’t want to be with him anymore. Not that he thought the entire relationship had been a lie, but he thought that somehow the love had ended. It happened to everyone, the probability of it happening to him was also high.

The truth could not be different. There wasn't a letter in which you didn't say you loved him, not always in those words, but he knew you well enough to know that was what you said.

After reading all the letters, Seokmin called Joshua. He cried on the phone with his friend and then once again when he showed up at his place with bad beer and takeout food. “Since we’re going to talk about our college days, I think we should do the same thing we did back then” was all he said.

Seokmin was on his way to you when he saw you walking without an umbrella. He wanted to talk to you, to know if even after so long you still wanted to try with him one more time. It was better to try than to always wonder what could have been.

“I read your letters!” he shouted louder than the rain.

His words were enough to make you stop walking, but you still didn't turn to face him. It was too hard to breathe. Your chest rose and fell irregularly each time you tried to pull the air in.

You knew Seokmin had taken the letters. Part of you knew he would read them, but the last thing you expected was for him to want to talk about them.

“I know” you said when he approached “I saw they were gone, and you were the only person who came by”

“Do you know why I accepted to host a love advice show? Besides it being something I've always wanted, of course” he didn't give you time to answer “Because a part of me wanted you to listen, to know that I was okay, even if it was a lie. I thought that if I talked about it on a show that had used the nickname you gave me, you’d regret it. I thought that I should make you regret it because it was the only way I could still think about you without looking like a fool after so long. I thought you didn’t care, that you had left because you didn’t like me anymore, so making you regret your decision was the only option I had”

You shook your head. It wasn't true, not by a long shot.

“I'm sorry” you said softly “I should have told you what I was doing, that I had applied for the and got in. I thought it was my only option. It was so stupid. I was so stupid”

Seokmin laughed a little, fingers running under your eyes. A second later he pressed his lips over yours.

“I know, I read your letters”

Seokmin,

It's been a good few years since I wrote you a letter. After a while, I didn't think I needed it anymore because I started saying everything I wanted, everything I felt, looking at you. Of course, this new arrangement has its demerits, as the paper and pen don't look at me like a lost puppy. But paper and pen don't kiss me either, so it has its bonus.

I thought when I came home four years ago, I would never see you again. I thought you would just be the guy who has a radio show that I would listen to every now and then. I didn't expect to see you my first week back and again and, well, again.

As you probably know, I've never been a big fan of rainy days. I always preferred sunny days because those were the days I woke up ready to face the world. I felt better overall. But also because they reminded me of you. You know, when the sun appears after gray days? For me, you were always like that. Grand and brilliant.

But after that day, I started to like rainy days too because they started to be full of the two of us. Rain was no longer synonymous of an unproductive day, but rather of the memory of our fresh start.

You know this, we've talked about it a few times, but I spent a few months waiting for it to sink in. Sort of expecting that one day I would wake up and it would all be a dream. It was hard for both of us, I know. It was seven years of hurt and resentment and we had to navigate this uncertain sea without a map. Nobody teaches you how to do this, believe me, I looked. I found countless books on how to start dating, how to save a relationship, and how to get over a relationship. The problem is that none of them teach you how to rekindle a relationship after seven years apart, but during those seven years one of the parties wrote letters and the other had a program just to mourn the sorrows of the relationship.

I've read several, so you can trust what I say on this.

It really wasn't easy, but I think we came out better, stronger, in some way.

I love you and I’ll tell you that every day for the rest of our lives. Our forever begins today, in a little while. So stop crying, put ice on your eyes to help the swelling go down, and go to the aisle because I miss you already.

I love you.

taglist: @wonwooz1, @mirtaspace, @feat-sun, @belladaises, @mayashu, @immabecreepin, @miriamxsworld, @aaniag, @k-drama-adict, @maiamorrrrrrrrrrrr, @roguesthetic, @sofix-hc7, @scarlet789, @moonlightgrleric, @mixling-blog, @haowonbins, @slut4donghyuck, @shuabby1994, @anthropologymajorkpopmultistan, @plumings, @shuasdrafts, @aaasia111, @bouclesdefeu

if you enjoyed reading, please reblog or leave a comment, it really does mean the world to me and i would love to know your thoughts. thank you! 💕

if you want to be tagged in my next fics, please fill out this form

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aces-and-angels · 1 year ago

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seeing the influx of gfm campaigns on your dash may be overwhelming- the purpose of this post is to help others navigate through the many gfm links that are circulating here on this site- esp. those that find their way directly to you via your inbox. this advice is specific to tumblr- i cannot speak on other platforms (instagram, twitter, etc.) though some things i say may be applicable

disclaimer: i do not vet/verify any campaigns myself. i simply want people who are willing to engage with these types of posts to do so in a safe manner

read more below:

---

what to do if you get a message from an account claiming to be 🇵🇸 in your inbox:

-> step 1: do not immediately dismiss it as spam

to quote one of nabulsi's posts:

"... you cannot generalise with Gazans if their tumblr blog is only a few days or a few hours old.

Gazans on tumblr are making accounts for the express purpose of spreading their fundraisers because it is spreading amongst Gazans that tumblr is a safe place to do so.

They could often be making multiple blogs and even remaking after staff flags them as spam. But don't blanket assume that Gazans are scammers if they're on a new tumblr blog with no pfp or content.

I agree that until a fundraiser is vetted you shouldn't reblog it in case it is someone dishonest taking advantage of the circumstances in Gaza. But you cannot do the opposite and immediately assume they're a scammer. I'm seeing people harass Gazans sometimes who genuinely are people who just don't know how to use tumblr and are falsely raising red flags because of it." (read full post here)

to sum it up: don't hit 'report' right away- marinate a lil and put on a detective hat

-> step 2: background check

the following are accounts that are known to vet/verify gfm campaigns here on tumblr. note- this is not a comprehensive list:

el-shab-hussein

nabulsi

90-ghost* (edit 8/4: recently announced that ahmed will no longer be vetting/verifying new campaigns)

ibtisams* (only has done it on situational basis; is not currently vetting new campaigns- read post here)

rubashabansblog (has been promoting other palestinians who lost their tumblr accounts; currently living under occupation)

heba-20 (unsure if heba takes request to vet others personally but is a reliable source for finding legitimate campaigns)

northgazaupdates

fairuzfan (says they are less active on tumblr these days/not currently vetting new campaigns but is a reliable source)

i recommend giving these individuals a follow if you haven't already as they provide far more information regarding all things 🇵🇸. they've all put in a lot of work to make the process i'm sharing with y'all as simple as possible. also please be respectful if you try reaching out to any of them. they are likely getting a high volume of asks and may not be able to respond to you quickly

important note: it has been recently announced that nabulsi + el-shab-hussein have stopped vetting new accounts for the time being and are only focusing on campaigns that have already been vetted. read their full statement here and here

to start- check out the person's account. this can be a hit or miss depending on how new the account is. however- you may notice that the person in question has stated that they have been vetted:

good signs so far- but better to be safe than sorry. next thing to do is search the username of the person who messaged you on tumblr. it's likely if you got a message like the one pictured above, others may have received one as well and did the digging for you:

if you can't find a clear answer with tumblr's illustrious search bar/want to confirm someone's claim that the campaign in question was already verified, the next thing to do is check one of the following:

el-shab-hussein's pinned post

el-shab-hussein/nabulsi's google sheet

imo, this process is far easier to do while on a laptop/desktop vs. mobile app. ctrl+f is your friend in this scenario as is the ability to click through multiple tabs. for el-shab-hussein's pinned post, i click through the multiple lists and see if any names match. in ruba's case, she was found under List of fundraisers for my direct contacts from Ghazzah & Sudan:

and for the google sheet- her campaign is no. 90 on the list:

tip: to narrow down your search even further- ctrl+f the title of the person's gfm campaign that they've linked on their tumblr account:

-> step 3: share your findings + follow that account

if everything checks out- ✨share le campaign✨ provide the link to it in your response to the ask + where it was verified. make it easier for the next person who gets a message to figure out that the gfm is real

following 🍉accounts is esp. important since the forces that be are keen on suppressing them at every turn. the more eyes on these accounts- the easier it'll be to determine the legitimacy of any new accounts they may need to make

---

okay, but... scams 😬:

-> step 1: seek a master

people can be assholes- and anyone trying to make a profit off of an ongoing genocide can eat glass

anyways- the following are accounts that are known to identify scam posts on tumblr (again, not a comprehensive list. these are just the one's ive seen/most familiar with):

mangocheesecakes

kyra45

kyra45's pinned post contains a plethora of resources to help determine if a post/message is a scam- and not just in regards to 🇵🇸- key goes in on many types of scams. please refer to their guides (and be sure that you are reading the most recent version of key's posts)

-> step 2: if you see sumn, say sumn

we're human and sometimes things slip our radar. so if you ever see someone on here sharing a known scam, do 'em a solid and let them know about it regardless if you are mutuals or not

---

final/misc. thoughts:

it's good practice to double check a campaign's verification with these tools for yourself regardless of how legitimate it looks. note that checking for a gfm's verification is not the same as verifying them. that work should be left to qualified individuals with experience in doing so. this is why it's bad to attempt things you are not qualified to tackle also- i think it's important to remember that transferring 💵 from a gfm campaign to those in need requires a lot of pieces to be perfectly set in place. if you see 🇵🇸 blogs linking alt. methods of raising funds (ex. p*ypal/k*fi) the reason could be that their gfms were frozen/suspended for a myriad of reasons. as always- check credible sources if you are unsure about a campaign you may come across notice how the spreadsheet provided here has over 100+ campaigns listed. generating a list that extensive requires hard work that is undoubtedly both physically and mentally straining to the individuals who are involved in making it. i've seen some accounts myself that have had to announce that they can no longer continue to vet campaigns because it has taken that much of a toll on their wellbeing. do not let their efforts go wasted

other resources:

some other places/grassroot organizations where you can find vetted campaigns:

operation olive branch (oob)

gazafunds

operation poppy flower (now also linked in oob's sheet)

operation watermelon

project watermelon

strawberry seeds collective

ottawa4palestine

camps breakerz crew

gofund(water)me(lons)

flowersfromfalasteen

#not choices #save #resources #🍉

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mashkdemss · 5 months ago

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Parallels between Byler and the canon couple from "Anne with an E"

Warning, there are a lot of spoilers here! And I apologize in advance if you find mistakes in the text, I'm still learning English O_o

Hi everyone!! Last month, I watched the series "Anne with an E" for the second time, and during my second viewing I decided to approach the romantic line of the main characters from a different angle. After many analyses of Byler, I learned to analyze relationships in cinema, and this case really surprised me on the good side! Let's talk with you about the parallels between Mike and Will with Ann and Gilbert, which help to make sure that Byler will soon become a canon :)

"Anne with an E" is a Canadian TV series, the first season of which was released in 2017 (8 months before the release of season 2 of Stranger Things). The main role in it was played by actress Amibeth McNulty, who also played the role of Vickie in season 4 of Stranger Things. And this is not the only important connection of this series with ST! At the end of the first season, Hopper was reading a book to Sara in the hospital, and that book was "Anne of Green Gables" (the Netflix series was based on this book)

Then in episode 3 of season 2, he reads the same book for Eleven.

The main romantic line in "Anne ..." develops between Anne and Gilbert over the course of 3 years (13-16) and it is narrated through such tropes as: from friends to lovers, slowburn, a love triangle, and a trope in which both characters think that their feelings for each other are unrequited, although in fact this is not the case. All of these relationship constructions are also applicable in the case of the Byler.

Direct parallels can be drawn between the characters:

Will = Anne

— Creative and sensitive teenagers from medium-income families who were bullied by their peers. They both talk a lot next to people they feel comfortable with, both have a self-built little castle in the forest where they retire during a difficult period and can feel safe without fear that someone will judge them (and later these castles were destroyed at both). There is a scene where Anne runs into her wooden house and cries there, very similar to Will's scene after a fight in the rain.

Ann and Will both told their mothers (in Anne's case, the foster mother) that they are "not going to fall in love" although the line of their romantic attachment to Gilbert and Mike is already developing according to the idea of the plot. Another interesting correspondence between these two characters is that they both helped people dear to them with their romantic relationships, while they themselves did not want it. Anne read the letters that her foster father's old friend had sent him, and without telling him about it, she decided to send her answers on his behalf because she thought they were deeply in love, and her father "just didn't know what to say". As a result, her father found out about it and talked to her about how he hadn't read his friend's letters because he didn't want a relationship with her, he just wasn't in love with her anymore and wasn't ready to change his life. Does it remind you of anything? Will also used Anne's "tactics", revealing his feelings to Mike on behalf of El, only he used a painting and not letters.

And one more take.... Anne's so-called mentor was aunt Josephine. They were in a good relationship and she gave her advice about her life and love. Josephine was also a lesbian. I want to say that this is also a possible parallel, because in the fifth season we are definitely waiting for the interaction of Will and Robin.

Mike = Gilbert

— curly black-haired guy from a more affluent family, who often acts as a leader and has some authority as a smart student. He liked Anne as soon as she joined their school and he tried to win her attention, but Anne knew that her friend liked him, so she carefully avoided Gilbert (although she also liked him). This gives us another coincidence: Anne, like Will, believes that she does not deserve love and avoids her feelings in order for other people to be happy. The main similarity between Mike and Gilbert is that they both stand at the center of a "love triangle."

Due to misunderstandings that have occurred between him and Ann, Gilbert begins to think that his love for her is not mutual and decides to marry Winifred (represents El in our case). Winifred is a girl from a rich family whom he met quite recently, and if Gilbert marries her, then her father will give him the opportunity to study at a prestigious medical college, which he has long dreamed of. Everyone around him approved of the idea of him and Winnie getting married, everyone expected it from Gilbert. Their wedding, unlike a relationship with a village red-haired orphan girl, could have brought him social approval, just as Mike and Eleven's relationship could have brought Mike social approval and entrenched his image of a "normal heterosexual".

But Gilbert doesn't love Winifred the way she loves him. Therefore, shortly before their wedding, he confesses to her that in fact his heart will always belong to Anne and that for this he is ready to give up his dream. And although their breakup was sad for Winnie, Gilbert explained the reasons to her as tactfully as possible, saying that she deserved someone much better than him. All of this also goes well with Willelmike.

To declare his love to Anne again, Gilbert writes her a letter and leaves it in her room while no one is at home. He writes that he and Winnie are not getting married, that he has always loved only Anne, and at the end he signs "Love, Gilbert." LOVE, GILBERT. Where have we heard this before? That's right, Mike's letters... If anything, I absolutely believe in the Lettergate theory, and that's also one of the reasons I'm confident in it.

Then there is confusion, Ann thinks Gilbert is mocking her feelings, and tears up the letter, and Gilbert goes to a less prestigious medical college. Now they are both sure that their feelings are not mutual, and even resigned to their failure, BUT! Anne meets Winnie, who tells her that she and Gilbert broke up and that he confessed his love for Anne to her.

Meanwhile, Gilbert meets Anne's best friend on the train, who loudly told Gilbert everything she thinks about him and "opened his eyes." She also mentions a love letter that Anne left some time ago, in the same way Gilbert left in her room later. Anne's letter was also unread, and the phrase "What letter, Diana, what letter?" appears. Don't you think it's very similar to a possible scene from s5 of ST with "What painting?"

In general, they ended up running to each other and touchingly reunited, after which there was a sensual kiss that the audience had been waiting for for so long. Unfortunately, the series ended there, but according to the canons of the book, they lived happily ever after, married and had many children, as befits such old love stories.

The main plot is not about Anne's love story, but about her growing up, other problems and events in their village (as in the case of Stranger things), so this line between the characters unfolds slowly and throughout the series, and Anne with Gilbert open up about their feelings and kiss only in the last minutes of the last episode.

It seems to me that there are too many coincidences to be coincidences. All of this inevitably leads to Byler endgame, if you look at everything from a cinematic point of view. Absolutely the same techniques were used: framing, phrases, lighting, musical accompaniment. When watching "Anne..." viewers have never denied the fact that there are feelings between Anne and Gilbert, although they were not revealed directly until last season. And all because Anne and Gilbert are a heterosexual couple, and such couples unfortunately turn out to be more pleasant and understandable to the average viewer. But they turned out to be a really good ship, and I'm even glad that the Duffer brothers were inspired by this setting.

So if the Shirbert is canon, then Byler will soon become canon!

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erinfern0 · 1 year ago

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roommates to lovers.

kyle "gaz" garrick x gn!reader

summary: getting a roommate seems like the best idea to help you with financial problems, especially with expensive rent, bills, and all. Kyle seems like the perfect fit, maybe not just as your roomie.

warnings: just sweet fluff, maybe a tiny bit emotional.

a/n: this is the first addition to my series of trope-based COD fics, let me know if you'd like to know the full list of my ideas before I post the fics as a masterlist!! Don't mind possible mistakes, I'll fix them tomorrow. I'm just a little tipsy now, but I really wanted to post this already!!

Barely getting ends to meet, you search the internet for possibilities of making your situation better. That's how you get the idea — finding yourself a roommate might at least help your financial issues a bit. You find some groups and chats for people looking for places to stay, and you stumble upon Kyle. A guy who knows it's better to share an apartment since most of the time he's away on deployment, so it's way cheaper than buying one for himself. Looking through his application, you found him interesting, to say the least.

Young sergeant, a gym rat who likes to cook and doesn't mind taking over all the chores whenever he's back. He doesn't listen to music loudly, likes his place clean and tidy, and seems charismatic. A perfect fit for you — who would get too stressed out if you had to see him every day. But he's home for a couple of days and leaves for deployment, so you don't need to worry that much.

Soon, he moved in with you, and you immediately felt a slight spark between you. You spend so much time together, that you seem to forget how life went without him beside you. Every time you accidentally brush against him in the hallway or in the kitchen, you feel that warm electricity. You start liking him and feel upset since in a few days he'll be gone again.

For the past months, your friends have been teasing you about your 'strange' relationship. How protective and caring he was of you, how you always had to touch each other in some sort of way. They've been mentioning how oblivious you two were and how you're practically a couple already, but you'd just ignore them.

It was only now that you felt they might have been right all along. Just a roommate, a friend at best wouldn't miss him as much as you did and you missed him way more than you thought this time. Getting a message from him didn't help you at all. A simple text, just after midnight, almost made you cry.

Gyle Karrick: It will take longer than expected. Three months, they say. Can't wait to see you again, xoxo

And fuck, you couldn't wait to see him, too.

Weeks passed on numerous phone calls whenever you could get a hold of him through his busy schedule. Lonely meals, mundane chores, and even your passions started to bore you to your limits. One of the few things you were looking forward to was his message. But day after day, you'd experience the same disappointment and worry.

That was until one day you were looking through selfies you took together or pictures of him while he was asleep on the couch while watching a movie. Adorable. Oh, you missed him. Later on that day, you sat in the living room, reading through your notes and textbooks to occupy your mind, as you heard someone try to open the door with their key.

It was late, you thought. That it's just your mind playing tricks on you, but no. Seconds later, he's inside the apartment, trying to be as quiet as possible as he thinks you should be sleeping. He sees the lights are on and freezes, unsure how to act. But as soon as you stand up from the couch, he drops the duffle bag he was holding, catching you as you run into his arms.

Unspoken greetings and a warm and tight hug almost made you two fall to the floor. But none of you seem to care, too occupied with hands wrapping around each other's bodies. Kyle looks into your eyes as you lean back, his gaze is so soft, so sweet, you seem to melt with the brown of them.

You're not sure when, but you lean forward, lips catching his. It's quick, he barely registers it. You want to apologize, feeling the warmth of your cheeks, the dizziness in your head. But he comes right back, kissing you again. This time, it's slow and sweet, just as you imagined him to be all those nights when he was away. You reach to his neck, wrapping your arms around it as he cups your face, pulling you closer.

“You're home,” you whisper breathlessly as soon as you pull away, your eyes meeting his lazily. The happiness of your voice makes him chuckle and point out how it was just a couple of months.

He, the sergeant with god-like attractiveness, bright mind, and silly humor, felt the same way you did. Kyle reminded himself of all the lonely nights he spent on deployment, imagining coming back to your shared apartment to see your gorgeous face again, to hear that sweet laugh, and to just enjoy the warmth of your body against his.

None of you expected the kiss or the butterflies flying around in your stomachs that came afterward, but it was more than perfect. His hand gently caressed the single tear that was running down your face and kissed the spot right after.

“You're my home.”

masterlist | request info

#riri writes #kyle garrick #kyle gaz garrick #gaz cod #kyle garrick x reader #kyle gaz garrick x reader #141 x reader #cod mwii #gender neutral reader #cod mw2 #task force 141 x reader #task force 141

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celestialholz · 1 year ago

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Be still made, my beloved crossbow (or 'let's talk about Durge's other other weapon... and maybe a bit about Stillmaker too')

You've read this post, friends. You know it's true, I know it's true. (And it's bloody beautiful by the way, lovely job @darkurgediaries.)

But wait, there's more.

Let's have a quick chat about the Hellfire Engine Crossbow, because if Stillmaker is Durge's blade from Gortash, this is Durge's side-bitch from him... or it was meant to be, anyway. Man never quite got around to piecing it all together.

Okay, let's start with er... I mean look at it. It's white, has a phoenix head on it - a creature that symbolises resurrection, rebirth and immortality, how very Durge, and is also associated with sun gods when Gortash is this easy to turn into a Lathanderan and that guy brings light to each new day - and it's also embossed with Gortash and the Steel Watch's black and gold motif.

And then you take a mechanical look at it and... hang on.

What are you doing here, Lightning Arrow? The Steel Watch don't have Lightning Arrow, but you know who does have Lightning Arrow? Rangers - archery experts, usually - at level nine and up. And who can we consider that's on level nine and is really good at archery?

And who can we consider who might run out of lightning-basic magic in the heat of battle; who is white, and has a theme of rebirth either by rejecting Daddy Bhaal outright or embracing them anew, and knows a sun-coded Radiant guy, and may once have had business in the Foundry?

Well hello The Dark Urge Vanilla Edition, our old spicy friend. There's also the lovely addition of Reposition Malefactor - Lightning Arrow, grab, Stillmaker stab. Classic Baldurian efficiency.

You know what kills me about Gortash's Radiant coding and Durge's Lightning? The first thing you see of lightning is its flash, its brilliance, and the second thing you see is its destruction. The light isn't the part that hurts you, but it's inextricably linked to the thing itself, just as you can't have the destruction without the light. Symbiosis. Gortash could have been thunder-coded, but... no. Thunder isn't destructive, not usually. It doesn't happen at the same time in the storm.

It's not symbiotic... it's not equal.

... Yeah no, I'm fine, not emotional at all. No sir, could not be me. Despite being level nine too, Gortash doesn't have Lightning Arrow. Why would you need lightning, when your beloved has it in their veins, when you've made them a crossbow specifically for it? You just bring the 'light' part, don't you?

Symbiosis. Peace and love on planet Faerûn. Anyway...

If we must consider the application of Lightning Arrow as a helpful aid to the depleted Storm Sorceror, we should probably consider Stillmaker's equivalent.

Hold Person. Hold. Person. Which, yes - very useful bit of utility for our lovely Durge to have, 100% - but then you consider the fifteen separate dimensions of romantic overtones in Durgetash and you just can't help but feel: Hold Person. It's a bloody hug. It's support. He's made it easier for you to slaughter people, which at least used to be your favourite thing to do.

So Gortash has A. made your murdering life much more fun because you can savour the kill and B. made sure you can still kill from a distance if anyone else happens to be around and you're tired.

What a complete fucking simp. 🥺❤

On the subject of Stillmaker in fact, much as the Fabricated Arbalest to the Hellfire Engine, it's rather different to Durge's main dagger, Bloodthirst.

This is pure function. Made to please Papa in the most gruesome way possible, whichever hand you feel like using to wield it.

Whereas Stillmaker... it's got an attached hug. It's got a wavy blade, perfect for the task of slicing and dicing - one that's very difficult to forge, that must have taken time and care.

... Well. Must have taken a mortal time and care. Because lest we forget, it's not the only wavy blade Durge owns.

... Seriously, Larian. How are you going to make both of them wavy. I'm on your ceiling fans.

It's two separate dimensions to Durge's life, in two blades with the same nastiness to them - absolute utility, versus actual care.

This is literally more intricate than the thing presumably given by a god. That's going to tear like a bitch, truly. And it's even got Bhaal's delightful countenance up front and centre. What was that devnote, about convincing the child of a god that they're not a monster? Mm...

Oh, I don't know. It's almost like, for a while anyway, Durge's connection to Gortash was more important than the one to their father. Maybe they wrote something about that very thing, in fact. Imagine. 🥲

I'd like to take this opportunity to also note the very violent and Thunder-mentioning text attached to the Hellfire Engine...

... And the fact it's found in three parts, because y'know, Dead Three.

There's only one minor flaw in this whole thing, really. One teensy little tiny problematic detail.

Sorcerors, unlike Gortash, can't use Heavy Crossbows.

... But, then, they can't use shortswords either.

I'll let you be the judge, shall I?

#enver gortash #the dark urge #durgetash #baldur's gate 3 #bg3 meta #happy pride 🌈#:)))#sherlock holzmes strikes again #this is your sign to make your default durge storm 11 and fighter 1 😙

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the-actual-ocean · 8 months ago

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Hello! Ever wonder who does the ocean? That's us! While, technically, we aren't in direct contact with the people who are actually in charge of the ocean, we have assumed the role of keeping it interesting!

Blog, ask, and mod info below the cut!

We are not accepting applications for new mods. This is a personal group blog, and we feel more comfortable with people who have physically thrown one another into blood pits before. sorry.

// We are all minors! Thought I'd add this before the read more.

Feel free to send us asks about what to throw/edit into the ocean! You can simply send us an image or name in the ask box with signatures to specify what format you want the post to be in! they're right below this! and next to those signatures? examples!! of the posts!!

-[Chuck] "An image of a rock, please -[Chuck]." This will have the provided image or description being hastily edited to appear as though they are being thrown into the ocean, or perhaps off a dock!

-[Swim] "adam sandler -[Swim]." This will have the provided image or description being edited into the ocean, and maybe even included a school of said image or description. maybe.

look at him. so majestic in his natural habitat.

-[Amalgamation] "Dany Devito bigfin squid -[Amalgamation]" This will have the chosen subject be horribly amalgamated onto a sea creature or oceanic feature! they will be in extreme pain!

And, uh, just to let you know: there's like a 40% that any news networks suggested in the asks will instead be fed to sea slugs. Sorry.

Mod Info:

Hello! I'm the creator of the blog, and you can refer to me as Juno. You can discern my posts from the other mods through my boring, regular writing, and I'll probably be the only one not to swear. I go by he/him, and I will always take the chance to brag about how I got to make that one part of space, or how I have the most squids to my name. I'll also be able to be recognised with my tag, being #{J}.

hello i am the purple one. i called dibs on purple whilst we were coming up with the idea of this blog, so you will be able to recognise me by my colour and tag: #〔L〕. my name is Liv (i am the only one here who has not changed their name because i couldnt find anything that suited me) and i go by she/her, and ill probably mention penguins a lot. i know they dont live in the ocean, but they come here often so theyre like a family friend. i also like manatees, so they might get a few mentions from me, idk yet. im also probably recognisable through my lack of punctuation apart from commas and full stops, so do whatever you want with that information. i also actually spawned in the ocean, so despite my lack of qualification, im allowed to be here as its sort of a form of compensation for the mistake. heres what i look like!!! (i also have 1 more picrew but we have another post dedicated to them so if you wanna go see just go there!)

Hello. I'm salt, which for legal reasons is not my name but I'm not expanding on that. I'm not sure what happened. I got here by . I go by they/them. It'll probably b quite easy to distinguish me from the others as I use punctuation incorrectly or not at all nd shorten word that don't typically need to be shortened. Another way will probably be my dramatic response to references I understand. When I post, I'll use red and my tag will be #S♣. I also really like sharks. I love sharks. I'm not responsible for them, but I will take credit for them.

HELLO! I am snail. I'm identifiable from my green colour and tag, which is #[Sn]. I go by she/her, and I will probably make spelling mistakes. I also may seem stupid or imbecilic. (See? Big words. Salt can't insult autocorrect.) :D I'm a bit slow and don't wear my glasses at home, so I'll have to take my time reading things and typing with the correct spellings. I'll probably just mention whales and pufferfish, since they're so super awesome. I just swagger walked into the ocean and I'm here now!!

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cowgurrrl · 1 year ago

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Keep the Wolves Away

Pairing: Joel Miller x fem!reader

Author's note: Dedicated to my real life Andies. Thank you for making me feel easy to love.

Summary: The worst decision [5.2k]

Warnings: platonic threatening, discussions of bad mental health, so much flirting that (spoiler alert) might be real, possible THE shittiest ex I ever could've written, all the southern pet names, alcohol consumption, the resurgence of an old nude of readers, gaslighty behavior, smoking cigarettes (don't smoke kids), Joel talking reader out of a spiral, two (2) kisses

"So, it's a date." Andie declares once you're done explaining everything to her over FaceTime. You pause your blush application to roll your eyes at her.

"It's not a date!"

"I'm sorry, so I'm just supposed to believe you when you say you're going to be just friends with the hot, sweet single dad who sounds like he's head over heels for you?"

"He is not head over heels for me." You sound a little petulant, and Andie laughs like she did when you were in high school and trying to hide a crush from her.

"Babe, he willingly went on a high school field trip just so he could see you."

"His daughter was there. I'm sure he wanted to spend time with her."

"I'm sure he did because he's a great dad, but he also wanted to see you in your element. It's sexy watching someone do the thing they love."

"Yeah, yeah." You brush her off, and she scoffs. You toss your makeup brush back into its bag and check out your outfit in the mirror. It's nothing insane— just a plain black slip dress— but now that Joel's arrival is getting closer and closer, you're rethinking everything. "Do I look okay?"

"You look stunning!" Andie chirps. "I'm sure your not boyfriend will think the same thing."

"I'm going to get a plane ticket to Austria just so I can choke you out with my own two hands." You threaten, but she laughs so hard you can't stop smiling. Once the trans-Atlantic giggling dies down, the line goes quiet, and you take a deep breath as you pull your mascara out.

"Are you nervous to see him?" She asks gently. Andie came home for the summer dubbed The Dark Days. She stayed over when the one-bedroom apartment felt too big and got you out of the house when you couldn't stand the four walls anymore. She took whatever he left behind to his new apartment so you wouldn't have to (and gave him a piece of her mind while she was at it). She made you believe in love again. Not sticky, frustrating, unpredictable romantic love but pure, easy, all-knowing love that can only come from long-enduring relationships such as yours.

For a long time after he left, you thought you were hard to love. Too loud, too bright, too much. Until you were out at a bar with her one night, trying to find the remnants of your independence and self-esteem tucked under sweaty beers and cracked leather chairs, when someone pointed out how similar you and Andie were. "Like two sides of the same coin," the woman told you. Andie is one of the easiest people in the world to love with her quick wit, creativity, and smile. And you realized for the first time if you had even a shred of that, even if only by dint of knowing and being loved by her, then you must be easy to love too. You must be worth the mess and heartache and stained fingerprints.

So, yeah, Andie was less than pleased to hear that all that hard work could be undone by seeing him again, but she was supportive.

"I don't know," you sigh. "I'm not a kid anymore. I've had more years without him than I did with him, but it's still scary."

"I know."

"I don't even know what I'm gonna say to him."

"He'll probably be too busy with the gallery and everything. Maybe you won't even have to." She says, and you groan at the uncertainty of everything.

"God, why did I say yes?" You ask as a knock interrupts your whining. You end your call with a quick "I love you, thank you, I'll text you" before throwing your phone down. "Come in!" You yell from the bathroom as you rapidly finish doing your makeup. There's a pause on the other side before he jiggles the knob and finally comes in. "I'm just finishing up in the bathroom. Give me a minute."

"D'you always leave your door unlocked?" Joel asks. The sound of his unsure footsteps reaches your ears, and you smile at the thought of him looking around your apartment like a lost toddler.

"Only when I know someone's coming over," you say. "Sorry, it's a mess."

"Oh, this is nothin'. You should see Ellie's room." He says, his feet pacing the floor. You swipe on a cute lipstick you never wear and finally step out into the living room where Joel is waiting. He's wearing a black button-up shirt with nice pants as he stands with his back to you, looking at some of the things on your wall.

"Well, don't you look nice?" You compliment, making him turn around with a shy smile. His eyes roam over you, taking in every detail or sliver of skin he hasn't seen before. His intense gaze reminds you of how he looked at you in the bar when you were sure his eyes would melt you. He looks dumbstruck, and his Adam's apple bobs when his eyes finally settle on your face.

"Wow… you look-"

"Choose carefully." You tease to take some of the tension out of the room.

"Beautiful," he says, thwarting your efforts. "You always look beautiful."

"Thank you. Not so bad yourself."

"You like it? Ellie helped me pick it out," he anxiously fiddles with the sleeves of his shirt. "Feels weird."

"What specifically feels weird?" You ask, stepping closer to him to examine his outfit. He smells like aftershave and the cologne he's prone to wearing. Why the fuck do you have his cologne memorized, you think to yourself.

"I dunno. I think I just feel outta place."

"Well, you don't look out of place," you say. "These might be what's doing it, though." You tap the top buttons of his shirt, the ones buttoned all the way up to his chin like a toddler going to Christmas mass.

"Ellie said I should do all of 'em since it's a fancy art thing."

"Well, you should stop taking fashion advice from a fifteen-year-old," you laugh. "I promise it's not fancy enough to justify being uncomfortable."

"I'm takin' your word for it." He says as he reaches up to undo his top two buttons, revealing freckles across his chest and collarbones and the tiniest sliver of a gold chain resting against his throat. For some reason, you can't tear your eyes away from the veins in his neck or the delicate necklace stuck to his warm skin. "What, it really looks that bad?" He thankfully breaks through your thoughts, and you try to recover by shaking your head.

"No, no. Not at all. You look really nice," you say, clearing your throat. "Let me get my purse, and we can go." You don't even wait for him to respond. You just turn on your heels and walk to your bedroom. In the security of your bedroom, you let out a long exhale and try to get your mind back on track.

You're just nervous. He's being nice. You're being nice back. It's nothing. It's nothing. It's nothing, you mentally chant. When you catch a glimpse of yourself in the mirror, you almost have to laugh at the fierce blush on your cheeks and the distracted look in your eyes. "You better get it together." You say, pointing at yourself in the mirror like it's gonna do anything to make tonight smoother.

The gallery is packed when you get there. Joel curses under his breath as he tries to find a parking spot, and you try to keep your anxiety at bay. All you have to do is show your face, look at the paintings, and leave. Maybe you can manage to steal a bottle of the cheap wine they're undoubtedly serving. It'll be an hour. Two tops. You can do this.

You're so in your head that you didn't notice that Joel parked the car or that he was looking at you until he bumped your knee with his.

"You okay?" He asks. You take a deep breath and nod.

"Just need a second." You mumble. You fiddle with your earrings, your dress, anything to keep your hands busy as you psyche yourself up.

"When's the last time you saw this asshole?"

"He wasn't always an asshole," you try to redirect, but he raises his eyebrows at you. "Since I graduated college."

"We don't have to go in." He offers easily, and you give him a look.

"Yes, we do. My name's on the list and everything."

"So?" He shrugs. "The world's not gonna end just cause one person didn't show up."

"But you drove all the way here."

"And I can drive you all the way back. Besides, it's nice having a pretty girl in my truck. It wouldn't hurt to have you here next to me for a little while longer." He says, and you laugh, feeling some weight lift off your shoulders.

"You get many pretty girls sitting in your truck?"

"Just my pretty girls."

"Right." You say, and he smiles, creating familiar crinkles in the corners of his eyes. They look a little deeper in the moonlight, but his eyes shine differently. Your fingers itch to draw them if only to critique your work and find the answer to why he has such an effect on you. You're aware that you're staring, but you also can't find it in yourself to look away. Not when he's staring back at you so fondly.

"What can I do to help you?" He asks. You feel like you could cry at the sincerity in his voice. You've talked to Ellie about her anxiety, so you know he has some practice in dealing with it, but he's acting like it's second nature. Like this is what he was meant to do. He bumps you again when you start messing with your purse. "Do you want this to be like at the bar? Do you want me to take you home and pretend like we were never here? Do you want me to go in there and crack some skulls? You say the word— any word— and I'll do it for you, darlin'."

Darlin’. It's what he called you when you promised revenge for almost kissing you at the bar. Normally, you'd be against any form of pet name. Henry was not openly affectionate in that way, and you learned not to expect it from him. But here's Joel, dropping the term of endearment almost every time he's been alone with you. It could be that cowboy accent or his knee pressed against yours, but the nickname fills your chest with warmth and pushes away your anxiety.

"Any word, huh?" You ask, and he chuckles.

"My mama raised me not to make promises I didn't have every intention of followin' through on." He says. "What'll it be?"

"I think… I just need you to be there with me."

"Then, that's what I'll do."

"Okay." You mumble, and he smiles as a new wave of comfort washes over you.

"Okay." He says.

"Okay." You take a deep breath and look at him in the driver's seat one more time. "Let's do this." Finally, you open the door and step down from his truck. He's quick to come to your side and offer you his arm before he can even finish locking the car. You smile, tuck your hand under his bicep, and let him keep you upright as you walk in.

The gallery is full of people who look way more qualified than you— art critics, journalists, and other artists who can actually sell a piece. They barely glance at you and Joel when you breach the doorway, which you're silently grateful for. When a waiter walks by with champagne glasses, Joel quickly snatches two glasses from the tray and hands you one.

"Here's to us." He says, and you cock an eyebrow at him.

"Us?"

"Well, we're sure as hell not toastin' to that asshole, are we?"

"I guess not," you laugh as you clink your glasses together. "To us." You each take a sip, and Joel tries to hide his reaction to the champagne, but you see right through it. "Not your speed?"

"Not at all." He groans as he chokes it down.

"Don't worry, maverick, we'll get you something else later." You promise and tuck your hand back under his arm as you start walking through the gallery.

A lot of his newer work resembles his work from college— normal portraits of things like fruits, beds, or people but with unexpected lines of colors lining them like they're vibrating. You even recognize some from your college days. You just never expected them to actually be displayed in this way, not even when you were dating and telling him what a good artist you thought he was. Some have vague titles like "$12" and "Jack," while others are untitled. You can see why it would get taken in by a gallery. There's a very clear skill in how he paints and manipulates everyday objects into something new. It would be impressive if it was interesting.

Maybe you're just used to the way he paints. Maybe this is exactly what you expected of him. Maybe you thought he would've grown, if not in attitude than, at least, in skill. But it's clear that too many people told him good things about his work, and he saw nothing he needed to change or fix. Somehow, it makes you feel better, not worse, about your own art.

"So, are these supposed to be good or bad?" Joel whispers to you as you get closer to the next section, and you laugh a little too loudly. The people around you give you nasty looks, but you can't find it in yourself to be sorry.

"Like I said at the museum, I can't tell you that, but…" you glance around to make sure nobody's listening to you. "As someone who saw him make a lot of art, this is definitely not his best."

"Okay, that's what I thought," he says before pointing at a specific part of the painting. "The shape is really weird right there, like he ran outta space or somethin'." You let go of his arm and step between him and the painting, smiling knowingly.

"Did you study for this?" You ask, and he nervously plays with the chain around his neck.

"I may have… snuck a look at Ellie's notes." He admits sheepishly, and your eyes widen.

"You were actin' like you were gonna have to rely on me this whole time! You don't need me to tell you what good art is!"

"Yeah, but I want you to."

"Oh, whatever. C'mon, I wanna hear what else you think." You pretty much drag him to the next section of the gallery, but he's pliant and almost giddy at your hold on him. You take more time in the next part, and he ducks so his lips are near your ear to point out little things he notices. He said he was scared of being wrong in front of people "smarter than him," but all the observations he makes are valid and accurate. He lets you add your own analysis to his and watches you with a smile when you start talking with your hands excitedly. Suddenly, you're not nearly as miserable as you thought you would be, and you're even laughing together as you jump from painting to painting.

"See, this isn't so bad!" You say as you move to the final part, but your smile and enthusiasm die when you step over the threshold. There, staring at you unashamedly is the painting Henry did of you when you were twenty and topless. He told you it was for his own artistic development, and you were more than happy to do it for him. You just never thought he would've kept it after all these years. Thank God your face isn't visible in the painting, but your rigid posture tells Joel everything he needs to know. He politely turns his back to the painting and steps between you and your likeness.

"You wanna go?" He whispers at the same time someone calls your name. You take a deep breath and grab Joel's hand for support as you turn around and face Henry. His wavy blonde hair frames his face like it did in college but he's matured. His beard is a little more filled in, and he's gotten a little broader. Other than that, he's still the same person you met freshman year.

"I'm so glad you could make it!" He says as he approaches. He doesn't try to hug you, and you don't move to let go of Joel's hand. "You look great. I mean, you always looked great, but you know what I meant," he says, looking over you. Only when Joel clears his throat does Henry even look at him. "Oh, sorry, man! We're old friends. I'm Henry." He holds his hand out for Joel to meet halfway, but he doesn't. You think it probably took fighting every single bit of southern hospitality in his veins to stop himself from shaking Henry's hand.

"'M Joel." He says, and Henry awkwardly drops his hand.

"Nice to meet you, Joel. How are you enjoying the exhibition?"

"'S alright." Is all Joel offers, not willing to gas up Henry's ego anymore, and you have to stifle a laugh at the expectant look on Henry's face. "Well, I think we were just goin'."

"Oh, so soon? You haven't even seen the last few pieces."

"Are those any better than the thirty identical ones I already saw?"

"Joel," you scold quietly, and his jaw flexes when you look at him.

"It's okay. Not everyone understands art enough to enjoy it." Henry says.

"Oh, I understand everythin' just fine." You swear Joel would've punched him if he wasn't holding your hand so tight. You step in between them and raise your eyebrows at Joel. His shoulders are squared, and you can feel the molten anger rolling off him, but it softens just a bit when he meets your eyes. You squeeze him twice to let him know you're okay, and he nods.

"Can you get me a refill on champagne? I think they're still walkin' around with some." You suggest. He gets the hint, but he obviously doesn't like it. He glances between you and Henry like he's trying to make a decision but folds when you mouth, "please," at him.

"’Course," he says through gritted teeth. "Anythin' else I can get for you, baby?" Baby, that's a new one, you think.

"No, I'm alright. Thanks, though." You say. Without thinking, you let your other hand rest on his jaw and kiss Joel's cheek. His jaw unclenches when your fingertips graze his stubble, and his shoulders relax when your lips make contact with his skin, but you know he's still upset because you're still upset. Joel smiles and walks away before you can get a good look at the blush creeping up his neck, and you're resigned to watching him disappear into the crowd.

"He seems nice," Henry says the second Joel is out of earshot, and you have to resist the urge to laugh.

"He is."

"How'd you two meet?"

"Through work." You say, knowing that bringing up teaching will make his skin crawl. He sucks his teeth and nods, the champagne in his glass sloshing slightly.

"Ah," he says. "That's nice."

"Yeah," you agree. An awkward silence falls over the two of you quickly, and you're itching to find Joel in the sea of people. Henry notices your lack of attention on him.

"It's really good to see you," he says. "I feel like I haven't talked to you in forever."

"Yeah, that's usually what happens when you leave someone."

"That's kinda why I invited you here tonight. I wanted to apologize for the way things ended," he acts brokenhearted and torn up about it, but he's years too late for the pity party he's expecting. "I should've talked to you about what was going on. We were just... becoming so different, and it felt like you were always talking to Andie or other people in the program, and there was no way to reach you."

"What are you talking about? I asked you multiple times if we were okay, and you said yes every time. I was talking to Andie so much because I needed someone who would understand me and be able to help." You say, and he waves his hand like he's swatting flies.

"Let's not do this. My therapist says it's not healthy to rehash the past like this. I just wanted to make amends and let you know I'm sorry for how you felt." It's not an apology. Not a real one, anyway. Jesus Christ, what did you ever see in him? Before you can even open your mouth to say something, he gestures to the gallery. "So, what do you think about all this? Crazy, right?"

"It's... something," you say. "Wish you would've given me a heads up about that one before I brought someone with me." You point in the direction of your half-naked body on the wall, and he gives you a confused look.

"I thought I did in the email."

"Nope, I think I would've remembered if you said something about a half-naked painting of me from college being displayed," you shake your head. "Why do you even still have that? I thought you would've thrown it away or painted over it or something."

"Why would I do that? It's a good piece."

"I know it's good because it's my body. What's weird is you leaving me without a word one day and then keeping a naked picture of me all these years."

"I didn't even think of it as your body. After a while, it was just a body," he says with no remorse, and you think you might hit him yourself. "Besides, you should take this as a compliment. Not many women get the opportunity to be depicted as art. It's a wonderful thing. You might even thank me one day when you're older." Finally, you see Joel walking toward you with a glass of champagne, and you take refuge in the fact that he's returning for you. "But, from what I can see, they've definitely stayed the same, so you probably don't have anything to worry about." He says like it's a secret or a compliment. You don't even wait for Joel to say or do anything. You just grab the wine from him and throw it in Henry's face. The people in the immediate vicinity gasp as you slap him and shove the empty glass into his hands.

"Out of all the stupid things I imagined for myself when I was younger, thinking I would marry you was the stupidest," you spit. "Don't you ever try to fucking contact me again."

You feel like a fucking idiot. What did you expect? An apology? Repentance? Regret? He barely apologized when you were together. Why would he start now? God, was he always that bad? How could you have been so blind? How could you have shed so many tears over him? How could you have let yourself be so vulnerable with him and for so many years? It's a miracle he didn't call the cops and try to get the two of you arrested, even though Joel didn't do anything. You think, at least. The second you finished your sentence, you ran to the bathroom to cry and then snuck out through the back to wait outside Joel's truck. For all you know, Joel (rightfully) beat his ass and is on the run from artsy Austin hipsters.

You put the lit cigarette back in your mouth and take a long drag, the familiar burning in your lungs a sick relief. You quit during The Dark Days because smoking was something he did, and you wanted to rid yourself of any reminder of his impact on your life. Apparently, at the same time you were scrubbing his fingerprints from your bones, he was in possession of and doing God knows what with the visual reminder of your vulnerability and love-sickness and acted like it was nothing. Like it was a compliment. Like it was just an object instead of your body. Andie would be pissed if she were here but especially if she saw you smoking after she braved all those shaky days and nights of nicotine patches and dried fruit and whatever other remedy recommended to help you quit smoking. You half-expect the same anger when you see Joel walking toward you.

"Before you even start, I know I shouldn't, okay? It's a bad habit from when I was a kid, and I've mostly kicked it. I just... had a lapse. I'll be back on my best behavior tomorrow," you say as he stops in front of you. He doesn't look angry or upset. He just looks concerned and maybe even a little sad. Suddenly, you regret running away from him when all he probably wanted to do was help. You probably wouldn't have bummed a cigarette from a busboy if you let him. "Don't tell Ellie." You plead. His eyes flick over your face before he takes the cigarette from your fingers, puts the lipstick-stained filter in his own mouth, and inhales deeply, making the ember glow in the dark of the night. When he exhales, he blows the smoke away from you and lets the wind carry it in the opposite direction. A considerate smoker. You should've guessed.

"Don't tell Ellie," he says, handing the cigarette back to you. "Are you okay?"

You shake your head and take a long drag. It's quiet between you two for a while, the only sound being the cicadas and the distant chatter of the gallery. They're probably still talking about the psycho bitch who threw her wine in the artist's face. You don't really care. "I'm sorry for tonight. I don't know what I was expecting, and I sure as shit didn't know that painting was gonna be displayed. I swear, if I had any idea how bad this was gonna be, I wouldn't have invited you."

"Why are you apologizin'? It's not your fault."

"I shouldn't have roped you into this. I should've just said no, ignored the email, or came by myself. It's not fair that you got put in the middle of all this, especially when you were just trying to be nice. You're the parent of one of my students, and for you to see that side of me is just inappropriate. I just-" he stops your rambling by putting his hands on your shoulders and making you look at him, the cigarette falling to the pavement in the process.

"Hey, hey. Stop. Take a breath." He says. Your head hurts from crying, and part of you wants to crawl into a hole and stay there until these feelings go away, but his eyes are gentle, and his hands are warm. You think he might be the only reason you're holding it together right now. "None of this is your fault, okay? Not the painting, not the conversation, none of it. We're both adults, and we can handle these things rationally. I'm not scarred for life just 'cause you lost your temper."

"But I-"

"No, buts. You told me the situation, and I didn't care. You warned me bout the art people, and I didn't care. You threw a drink in that asshole's face, and I didn't care," he says. "The only thing I care bout right now is makin' sure you're okay. Fuck everythin' else." You search his face for anything to tell you what he's telling you is going against his inner monologue but find none. He's completely and wholly concerned about you and nothing else. Not how fast he can get out of this. Not how this might look. Not what other people might think about him. Nothing. You take a deep breath and nod.

"Fuck everything else." You agree.

"Now, you're gettin' the hang of it." He jokes, and you roll your eyes at him. He takes it in stride, his smile never fading as he looks down at you. You stop messing with the hem of your dress and let yourself relax for the first time all night.

"Thank you for being here, Joel. I really appreciate it."

"Not our best not-date, but definitely a memorable one." He says, and you laugh. You seem to realize how close you are at the same time because you both fall silent. His curls are beautifully draped over his face, and you can't stop watching his tiny expressions. An eye squint. A purse of the lips. A bite to the inside of his cheek. You want to blame your bad night or the emotions, but you can't. There's something more there. Something that's been brewing beneath the surface since he came into your classroom. Something that will kill you if you don't act on it.

You let your hands come up from your sides and tentatively brush against his waist as you stare at him, waiting for him to say something, but he doesn't. He just stares down at your lips, and the hands on your shoulders slowly move across your skin and up your collarbone— leaving goosebumps in his wake— until his hands are on your jaw and your pulse is thrumming against his palm. You pull him closer by his belt loops, and he doesn't hesitate to crowd your space, pushing you into the side of his truck with his body. His lips ghost over yours, just barely touching, and his nose bumps yours.

"This is a bad idea," you breathe, tightening your hold on him. He nods and presses his forehead against yours. He's still close enough to breathe the same air as him, but the distance feels like miles. You lean forward a fraction as a test, and he doesn't move. If anything, he seems annoyed you didn't kiss him.

"D'you want to stop?" He asks, sounding just as breathless as you feel. You shake your head and swallow hard when he brushes the hair off your shoulder, and you can feel his heavy hand holding you. Your hands skate over his ribs, feeling muscles and a crazed heartbeat, and his jaw clenches. "Then you better do somethin' cause you've been drivin' me fuckin' crazy for weeks."

Finally, you catch his lips with yours. He tastes like nicotine and smoke, and you know it's going to take a lot more than patches to get you to want to stop doing this. It's gentle and sweet, all relieved sighs and shy touches until you pull away for just a second to second-guess yourself or ask him something. You don't even start to form the words before he's back on you with more fervor. Suddenly, it's like he's everywhere but not nearly close enough. He nibbles at your bottom lip and tests a hand on your sternum, long fingers grazing your throat. The metal of the truck digs into your back, but you stop caring when a little moan slips from his lips when you pull him closer.

This is a bad idea. A horrible one. A bad habit you're gonna need to kick.

But he might just be your favorite bad idea so far.

TAGLIST: @abbyhaslongshorts @kiwiharrykiwi @sumsworldz @myloveistoolittle @anavatazes @marantha @cosmoscoffeee @shyminnie07 @beezusvreeland @eddiemunsonsbedroom @harriedandharassed @doodlebob-mp3 @ignorethisplz2004 @buckyispunk

#hippies and cowboys #joel miller au #joel miller x reader #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x female reader #joel miller fic #joel miller x you #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller #joel tlou #the last of us au #tlou au #joel miller tlou #the last of us fic #the last of us x reader #the last of us hbo #the last of us fluff #joel miller fluff #i fucking love this

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yanderedrabbles · 3 months ago

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congrats! Ur work has rlly paid off

If ur not uncomfortable(if u r pls ignore), how'd u do it? I've started out at the same time and dont even have quarter the amount u have which rlly bums me out and makes me want to stop posting

One totally simple secret- I post a TON. Like almost every day.

The only month I didn't post almost every day was January, and while I don't have a screenshot of my activity, my notes absolutely plummeted. From about 2000/day to about 400/day. It took the whole of February and most of March to get them back to my pre-hiatus levels.

Let's look at the stats:

I didn't post a new fic yesterday or today and you can see how my notes tanked from around 2000 to about 1000 in just a day.

POSTING FREQUENTLY IS THE BEST WAY TO GROW!

I'm sorry to yell at you gorgeous, but it's true. While I put a ton of work into variety and into improving my craft, the biggest factor has been posting frequency. It keeps me on top of common tags and recommendations, so new readers are a lot more likely to stumble on my stuff. It keeps my current readers engaged. It's the main way I've gained followers.

Okay, we got that out of the way? Let's get into some of the more nuanced practices that boost reach.

You can see that my fic length varies a lot. There are plenty of posts under a thousand words, but also a few topping ten thousand.

I think that having variety keeps things interesting for my readers. Most of us don't have time to sit down and read a 10k word fic every day, but we still want to have our yandere fix. That's where my shorter stuff comes in.

I think having variety in length also draws in new readers. You might be skeptical about reading a 12k word smut if it pops up on your dash and you have no clue who the author is, but you're probably down to read the quick 600 to a 1000 word drabble. And if you like it, you might just check out more of my stuff! Yippee!

I also aim for variety in style. Let's look at some of my more popular posts:

Yandere Best Friend

Yandere Greek Champion

Yandere Yakuza

Yandere Fairytale

Did ya notice anything? All four are pretty popular fics on my blog, and they're all VERY different. In length, in formatting, in the approach to storytelling.

Variety is the spice of life! Have fun with your writing, experiment, take risks. If it doesn't work, then at least you took the chance and learnt something. Your readers are not going to complain, I promise.

Editing is also a must. You're almost always going to miss a typo or two - they're like mosquitoes in summer, they somehow always manage to slip through the cracks - but a fic should be pleasant to read. If I see five typos in the first paragraph, it's a bit of a turn-off. Most apps have a built-in spell check, and I've recently been experimenting with Grammarly. Even just doing a final comb-over before you post makes a huge difference.

Tag your stuff too! I have my go-to set of tags that I usually use on my posts, but I'm always on the lookout for new tags that are applicable to my posts. How else are people going to see your stuff? How else will Tumblr know to recommend you? Use tags babe, I promise they don't bite.

Oh, and don't forget to ask for feedback either. Beta readers and writing groups are the backbone behind so many famous real-world authors. Your Tumblr moots will be happy to skim over your stuff and give you some pointers. We're all in this together, and that means striving to get better together.

And finally, I'm always trying to learn more about writing. All the tips and tricks behind it. All the ways I can make my stuff just a little better - my dialogue a bit more snappy, my prose a bit easier to read.

My go-to writing guy is James Scott Bell. Especially Voice - the secret power behind great writing. James is funny and easy to read, so I HIGHLY recommend his books on writing. Currently, I'm reading How to Write Pulp Fiction and it's soooo helpful. Am I actually getting better as a writer? That's debatable, but I'm constantly putting in the effort and I think my readers can sense that.

"But Val, I can't write every day! I've got obligations, work, school, a hundred different things to get done! Hitting 2k words daily just isn't possible for me!"

I hear ya kid. But guess what? I couldn't clock 2000 words a day at the beginning either. But I forced myself to sit down and write as much as I could between all my other obligations. Over time, you'll learn to write faster. You'll learn to push through all the small worries holding you back. You'll learn to optimise your workflow so that you clock an easy 1k in an hour.

Every little bit counts. Even if all you can spare is 300 words a day or half an hour of editing, it adds up. By the end of the week, that's already a 2.1k fic ready to go.

I used to think writers were just insanely talented and naturally creative. And I have no doubt so many are. But it takes practice and patience to improve.

We all get those moments when we ask ourselves if we should even bother. What if I'm a total hack? What if I'm the worst person to put paper to pen since the author of My Immortal? What if what if what if -

Stop. Just keep writing.

Don't listen to those voices. If you do, you won't write anything at all, and how are supposed to improve if there's nothing to improve upon?

Sometimes, it's like a kick to the jaw to see another writer doing well. Why isn't that me? What are they doing that I'm not? I deserve it just as much as they do, so why am I not getting the same amount of notes?

Don't even bother entertaining thoughts like those. Take a deep breath and then keep writing. You have your own voice and style that your fans love. Your only competition is with yourself.

There you have it. Simple as it gets.

I promise you, you're an author worth reading. You have fans who love you, who can't help but scream when you post a new fic. Just keep putting in the hours and it WILL pay off.

#Val's writing advice

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crusty-chronicles · 2 years ago

Note

hi!! i hope you're doing well!! i was hoping if you could write an (platonic) airhead headcanon for gon from hxh?? you dont have to if youre not comfortable w writing it!

i really enjoy reading your works and i hope you have a lovely day!!!

Ah yes, another chaotic crack fic coming up.

BONUS AIRHEADED S/O HEADCANNONS: Gon (HxH)

For starters, there is not a single thought to be had between the two of you

Heads empty with static

You tripped and fell?

He's stumbling on your body and toppling over.

Gon got stung by a bee?

You're fighting the entire hive, only to end up having the worst allergic reaction of your life.

You wanna play in the rain without a jacket?

The both of you end up with colds the next day.

Gon can't do math and you can't read or write, so it balances out.

I've said it before and I'll say it again, Poor Killua is the one who has to put up with both of you

"No Y/n. Eating a glow stick will not make you radioactive and shiny." "No Gon. You can't bake a cookie in one minute just because you set the oven to 1500 degrees."

His two best friends are complete idiots and he can't do anything about it.

But on the bright side, you and Gon are endless entertainment.

You most likely met during the Hunter's Exam.

He and Killua were surprised to see another kid taking the exam, especially one that was keeping up just as well

Leading Gon to ask his famous icebreaker question.

"Why do you wanna become a hunter?"

And immediately your face scrunched up in confusion.

"A what? I thought we were all playing a game."

"But you had to fill out an application." Killua pointed out, very suspicious of your answer.

"Really? Cuz I just snuck in."

Both boys leave it at that because #1, a new friend. And #2 you've got to be really skilled to make it this far.

Also keeps you far away from Hisoka

Like he legit fears for your life and will not let you fight him.

He's seen that clown up close and personal and doesn't want you to get hurt or, knowing hisoka, worse.

"Hisoka gave me a lollipop and told me to meet him outside."

"SPIT THAT OUT RIGHT NOW!"

Now while Gon's ditzy, he's nowhere near as clueless as you.

You're lactose intolerant?

Then why are you downing cheese sticks like you're never gonna eat again?

I'm sorry? You're allergic to shellfish?????

WHY ARE STILL EATING GNAWING ON A CRAB LEG!?!? STOP YOUR FACE IS TURNING RED!!!!

Please stop jumping into lakes to catch fish. 🥺

You're gonna get sick and Gon wants to show you how to fish

There is no babying

You ARE the babies.

Buuuut, Gon will mother hen you after every fight because you're ten times as reckless as him.

You got stabbed once during a fight, and instead of moving back, you pushed yourself further into the blade just to punch your attacker.

Which resulted in a huge lecture from Killua while Gon tried to stop the bleeding.

"If I see a light, should I go towards it?"

"NO!"

Tbh Gon really doesn't have any nicknames for his friends. At most he'll just introduce you as one of his best friends.

He doesn't have it in him to be mean spirited towards you like a certain assassin.

Has a habit of encouraging your bad ideas instead of shutting them down.

Make no mistake, he knows they're awful ideas, but you're trying.

And Aunt Mito says it's the effort that counts.

Speaking of Mito 👀👀👀

She adores you

Surprisingly, you're very helpful in the kitchen.

Just not around knives, which she realized after you sliced through the cutting board.

She also likes how responsible you make Gon.

He's more observant and careful when you're around.

To put it simply, he loves you and Killua with his whole heart.

Two of the most important people he'd do just about anything for.

MASTERLIST

#gon x reader #hxh x reader #hunter x hunter x y/n #hxh gon #gon freecss #hunter x hunter #airhead s/o #stronk s/o #crack fic #x reader #x y/n #platonic

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sawtastic-sideblog · 9 months ago

Text

Damien Haas x female!reader

Before we starting would like to say that the only thing I've written in months is research papers for school but I have finally written for Damien for the first time in years.

So just a couple things to keep in mind (triggers) there's talk of a horrible aunt and bad childhood and there are brief mentions of parental death and self harm I think that's it but if anything else let me know and I'll add it here.

That being said it's probably bad. To try to excuse it I was woken up early this morning and I've had a migraine since Thursday but I also feel like I'm not a great writer.

Anyway

Enjoy this Damien fluff

"Hello and welcome to Smosh Mouth. I'm Shayne."

"I'm Amanda. Welcome Damien to our table of discussions."

"Hi, thank you. I'm so excited to be here. Big fan, big fan," Damien says, pretending to be nervous. They continue on with the conversation as you set your phone down to go do your normal Saturday chores.

You haven't had the time to listen to the newest Smosh Mouth this week. You've been incredibly busy with online school and being sick. Yes, you realize that you are older than most of your classmates, but you're proud of yourself for going back to pursue a degree in your interest. You have no plans to leave Smosh, but you really wanted this degree just to prove to your childhood self that you could.

Education was always super important to you and you never had the opportunity to go to college right out of high school. You taught yourself how to edit and put in many, many applications everywhere. Finally, after five years of trying to break into the industry, you got an email back from Smosh. You cried and screamed and jumped for joy when you landed the interview and when you got the editor position you sobbed. Partially out of happiness and excitement, but mostly out of relief.

When you were told the amount of money you'd be paid, you were shocked. You knew that you'd save it and use it for school. So, after working at Smosh for a year, you applied for online classes and haven't looked back sense. Only a few people know about you being in school, Ian, Anthony, anyone that you'd need to report to for you job, your best friends at work, Angela, Amanda, and Chanse, your brother, Jack, and his wife, Bella.

You have always been close to your brother despite a seven year age gap. He was on the football team in high school and college. Both teams absolutely adored you and you became the unofficial mascot. Where he went, you went and vice versa. You knew it was just to get you out of the house and away from your crazy aunt.

Your parents passed in a car accident when you were three and your mother's resentful sister was the closest relative who was able to take care of you. She was incredibly strict when it came to you. Jack could do whatever he pleased. You had to cook, clean, learn to sew, and basically just learn how to be a woman, according to Aunt Virginia. She tried to keep you from going to school and Jack would make sure you went. He would make sure you were able to do your homework and do whatever you wanted to do. It was a rough time, especially after Virginia kicked Jack out when he and his college sweetheart, Bella found out they were expecting without being married. You stayed there on your own for nine years becaue Virginia wouldn't let you leave. Discouraged it and made it impossible for you to move out in your home town.

When you got the job at Smosh, you had two months to find a place, move, and get settled. You had told Jack and he immediately told you that he was coming with you.

"What about Bella and Sadie?"

"They'll come with us, silly. Once we get out there, Bells can find work as a nurse, we can enroll Sadie in a good school, and I'll even look for something other than news station camera man."

"Are you sure? Sadie is only twelve she's going to resent you for making her leave her friends."

"Yeah, we've actually been planning to do this anyway. She's super excited about it. That dinner we have planned on Friday was when we were gonna tell you and tell you that you're coming with us. I guess we have to move our plans up."

That's what you did. Bella and Sadie went out there first and got the apartment settled as Jack trained his replacement and you slowly moved what little you had from Virginia's house, to Jack's. Then, in the middle of the night, you vanished. You didn't leave a note because why would you want the hateful old bitch to know where you went?

On your first day of work, Jack took you. You thought he was just going to drop you off but followed you inside.

"What are you doing?"

"I have an interview."

He got the job and now you two were known as one of the many dynamic duos. You're quiet and only really talk to Jack, Amanda, Chanse, or Angela. You do talk to Kiana, Tommy, and Spencer, but not as much as the others. You stayed behind the camera, but somehow became well known in the Fandom for your unique editing that captured the audience and enhanced the joke.

Your first "on camera" appearance was during the Shayne Guesses whre he guessed childhood photos. You submitted one of you in Jack's football helmet, hair covered, eyes almost fully obscured.

"Okay, this isn't fair. I can't see the hair or the eyes very well," Shayne complained.

"Yeah, but I thought this one was cuter. Once you see the answer you'll understand," Spencer explained.

After six months of working at Smosh, you could move into your own apartment. You stayed close to Jack, but you finally got your own space. That you always do a general clean of on Saturdays while listening to a podcast or the newest Reddit Stories before catching up of any homework you need to get done. Which is what you're doing now.

"Your can think your friends are beautiful. Like they have beautiful moments," Amanda says as you place the last of your dishes into the cabinet.

"Yeah, of course," Shayne agrees.

"Yeah, totally. I actually have an observation of a beautiful friend of ours," Damien annouces. Amanda gasps.

"Tell us, tell us, tell us," Amanda all but chants as you start a reset on your living room. Shayne and Damien both chuckle.

"Okay, so we have a couple of friends who work on the crew," he begins. He goes on to reveal the story is mainly about you. "We were at Jack's wedding about a week ago and I just saw her dancing with her niece, and smiling, and having fun. I know that she works hard. She comes in before us and stays until the slack message kicks her out. Then she goes home to do school work." Your head whips around to your phone and you make your way over to it.

"How do you know about that?" Amanda asks.

"Angela mentioned it. Is it something that I shouldn't know?"

"Uh, I'm not sure. I thought everyone knew, but we just didn't talk about it."

"What is she in school for?" Shayne asks. Amanda answers with you special interest and Damien takes the reigns of the conversation again.

"Anyway, I just know she has to be stressed out. I mean, I'm assuming and if I'm wrong I will apologize, but it just sounds like a super stressful situation to be in. Seeing her just let loose and have fun at the reception, after really only seeing her stone faced or with a small smile while talking to Jack. She was laughing, like throwing her head back laughing, and jumping and dancing with Jack and his wife and daughter. I saw her dancing with you, Angela, and Chanse at one point." Amanda nods at this.

"Yeah. I remember dancing to Take a Chance by Abba and we all just took turns pulling Chanse around," she beams as her tablemates laugh. They go off on a quick tangent about their time on the dancing floor and how, somehow, Bella, a Smosh fan since 2007, got Ian and Anthony to do a double decker twerk in their very nice suits.

"Yeah, but seeing her loving life and looking like she didn't have a care in the world other than celebrating her brother and sister in law and niece and the love they have for one another. I mean she was the best lady and we found out during speeches, which is the most I've heard her speak by the way, that they didn't have a greatest of childhoods, which just made the looks of pure happiness of her face so amazing. She was truly beautiful and I'll carry that memory with me for as long as she allows me to know her."

"I know what you mean. I didn't know she had teeth until the wedding. Like, she never smiles," Shayne jokes.

"I know she's not here today, but I hope she watches this when it comes out. Hopefully it'll make her feel better and it'll help her get over whatever it is she has quicker," Amanda says.

"Yeah, if you're watching this while you're still sick, feel better!" Damien says. You smile and wipe at your eyes as they change the subject to something else. You'd never really spoken Damien and you only speak to Shayne when Courtney pulls you into a conversation and he walks up to speak. But knowing that these guys consider you not only a friend but beautiful, as well, makes your heart swell a little.

A timer goes off on your phone just as the episode ends and you quickly pull up the newest Reddit Stories video, after turning off the timer. You go back to the kitchen and take the last dose of your medicine. You had somehow caught bronchitis and have been out of work for a week, but you finally felt better and wanted to get back into your normal routine.

You hear a text notification as you enter your living room and walk over to your phone again. It's a text from Ian.

Hey, I hope you're feeling better. Alé had notes from the all hands meeting sent to your email. We're going to have another one on Monday if you can make it.

Hey Ian, I feel great, thanks. Doctor cleared me yesterday. I'll be there!

He just sends back a thumbs up emoji. You chuckle and get back to your cleaning.

Monday morning rolls around and you are in the office by seven thirty, trying to get a head start on footage that had been give to you. By eleven you'd made good progress and Tommy had to physically pull you from your desk.

You sit at a table in the back with you laptop open to your school stuff. Your habit for every all hands meeting since nobody every sat near you. That is until today.

You can feel the nervous energy radiating off of Angela as she sits down beside you.

"I'm so sorry."

"Why?"

"Because I let it slip to Damien that you're in school."

"It's okay. It was bound to come out sooner or later. Especially with my associates degree coming to me in the mail soon."

"What? No way!" Angela shouts, gaining attention from a few people. You smile softly as you make eye contact with Chanse before rolling your eyes. He laughs as your eyes move to the figure sitting beside him. Your eyes meet Damien's and you give him the same small, but now nervous, smile you gave Chanse. You turn your attention back to Angela.

"Yeah, Gen Ed finally done," you say as you pull up the email. Angela makes noises of excitement as she reads, earning more stares. You try to hide behind the laptop, but you know you've been seen. Your face heats up and you pull the hood of your jacket over you hair. "Angela, please. You're making a scene."

"Sorry, I'm just so fucking excited for you!" She all but yells again as she pulls her feet under her. She stands while squatting in the chair and kind of bounces or jumps, you don't know. You should be use to her antics but you are still easily embarrassed.

"Good morning, everyone," Anthony starts, pulling everyone's attention from you. You remind yourself to get him like a billion cookies for this kindness. Angela situates herself in the chair as you open your last assignment instructions for the semester.

Two hours later, you're watching people mill about as they go back to work. You're assignment on hold until you can do some in depth research at home. You pretend not to notice silver hair approaching as you stand and slip into the crowd, quickly making your way back to your desk, ready to become an editing machine again.

You have no idea how late it is when you feel a tap on your shoulder. You jump and take off your headphones as you turn around. A soft, amused smile plays on Damien's lips as he watches your confusion.

"Hi?" You whisper your question.

"Hi, it's six o'clock." You check your phone and see that it is actually about ten past six and that you have a missed slack warning you to leave. You nod.

"So it is. Thank you," you say as you save the edit and start shutting down for the night.

"Is that a crochet Toothless?" Damien asks, motioning to a small dragon crocheted from black yarn with big glittering, green eyes. You nod again. "Did you make it?"

A third nod as you pick it up and hand it to him. He admires it and hands it back to you. You place it back on your desk, right under your monitor.

"Jack likes those movies too."

"Yeah, it means a lot to us. We have matching tattoos." You don't know why you said that, but Damien nods, enthusiastically.

"I've seen Jack's the black silhouette with the red part of the tail, right? On his forearm. Like where my sword is, but smaller."

"Yeah, that's it," you say. Before you can think about it, you're pulling up your sleeve. Damien looks down as you show off your tattoo. His fingers come up to trace the outline of the tattoo before following the scars that litter your arm down to your wrist. Silently, he lifts your arm and places a gentle kiss to the exposed skin. You look up at his face and you can tell even he seems surprised that he did that.

You take your arm back and pull down your sleeve. You turn to pack up your bag, expecting Damien to be gone when you turn around. You turn back to see he's still there, looking at your decorations on your desk. A picture of you and Jack at your high school graduation, the little Toothless, and a Lego bunny Sadie gave you.

"Can I walk you to your car?" You nod as Damien motions for you to lead the way. You're both silent as you walk. Once at your car Damien speaks. "If I overstepped a boundary by talking about you on the podcast, I apologize. I really hope that's not why you're not speaking to me."

You're taken aback for a moment before shaking your head.

"I'm not mad at you, Damien. I just don't talk. As far as the podcast goes, everything is okay. Spencer warned me about it and what was talked about, just not what was said. And what you said was very sweet and I appreciate it. It made me feel seen for once in my miserable life."

"I'm glad I could be of service," Damien says, seemingly at a loss for words.

"I have to go. I need to pick up my niece. She's been with a friend since I was sick and I told her friend's mom that I would pick her up after work."

"When are Jack and Bella back?"

"Next week."

"When are your classes over?"

"I'm working on my last assignment this week. It's due Friday."

Damien nods.

"Have a good night," he says and turns to walks to his car.

The next day you find a Lego rose set on your desk, after lunch. Spencer is there staring at the attached, unopened note while nursing a Kickstart.

"What are you doing?"

"Being disappointed that the Kickstart hasn't given me mutant powers like x-ray vision," he responds, looking up at you.

"What's this?"

"Legos."

"No shit."

"I don't know. It was just here when I came to talk to you. You're always here but you weren't and the roses were."

"I went to the restroom." You sit at your desk and take the note off the box and open the envelope.

"I'm trying to respect your privacy but I am curious."

"Go away, Spencer."

"Okay, bye," he says as he walks away making a horrible sipping sound, knowing you hate it.

Thank you for sharing with me yesterday. I remember Jack saying you don't like real flowers, so Legos. I'll always see you. - Damien

You smile and put the Legos and note in your bag. You turn back to your work and get lost in the latest Try Not To Laugh.

The rest of the week consists of thoughts of Damien, but not seeing him much if at all around the office.

Friday night, you're laying in bed after turning in your assignment, confident that you did great on it. As you start to drift off your mind wanders to the day with Damien in the office. The softness of his lips against your skin, his words from the podcast "she was truly beautiful and I'll carry that memory for as long as she allows me to know her," and the intestity in his gaze when he looked at you. Your eyes open wide as you shoot upright in bed.

"Fuck, I like him!" You shout into your apartment. You hope you didn't wake Sadie. You listen for a minute before deciding that your neice is still sleeping soundly. You lay bac down and grab your phone, pulling up fan compilations of Damien to fall asleep to.

One week later a bunch of the editors are going out to dinner. You decide not to and continue working until the five forty-five slack. You pack up you bag and turn to see Damien at th entrance to your little cubical.

"We meet again," you say. "Hello."

"Hi," he smiles. "I was wondering what you were doing tonight."

"Going home. My social meter is at it's limit for the week."

"Oh, I was going to see if you want to hang out but I get it." He looks a little disappoint. You get an idea.

"Come over. We can hang out."

"Really?"

"Sure, it could be fun. What could go wrong?"

You unlock your door and let Damien step in before you. You lock the door behind you out of habit. You quickly make your way to your office and put down your bag and go back to the kitchen and grab two glasses of water.

"Thank you," Damien says, looking towards the box of Legos on the table. "You haven't built them yet?"

"No, I've been busy with school stuff. I was planning on building them tonight. Wearing pajamas and watching Buffy the Vampire Slayer, but still building them."

"Oh, if you'd feel more comfortable in pj's go ahead."

"No, it okay. You don't have any pj's."

"I actually do in my car. My laundry machines broke and I had to go to the laundromat. I've been too lazy to take my clothes inside."

"Go get them. We can have a pajama party." You smile as Damien looks surprised. He nods and stands up, excusing himself to his car. You run to your bedroom and change into a pair of light gray sweatpants and a black tank top. You hear Damien walk in and the lock click before his footsteps lead to the bathroom.

You emerge first and set to work making cups of hot chocolate with just a splash of vanilla. You're not sure when Damien walks in, but at some point you look over and he's leaning against the door frame with Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtle pajama pants and a pizza place shirt. He has a fond smile on his face and you return it.

"You kind of match. Turtle pizza and being Shayne's favorite pizza place."

"You're my favorite pizza place," Damien says. His eyes go wide as you let out a giggle. You hold a mug out to him. He takes it and immediately goes to take a sip.

"Careful its-"

"Ow!" Damien almost shouts as he puts a hand to his mouth.

"Hot. Are you okay?" You ask. He nods but his brows are furrowed as he takes a deep breath. "Did you burn your lip?"

He nods as he sets his mug onto the counter. You set your downs beside his and walk to the freezer, grabbing an ice cube. He takes it and holds it to his lip. He pulls it away as he says, "Thank you. Sorry about that."

"It's fine. You were just being a silly goose and didn't listen." You pick up your mug and walk over to Damien as he holds his fingers to his lips again. With your free hand you grab his wrist and pull it away from his mouth. "You're fine." With that you stand on your toes and give a quick peck to his lips. "There all better now."

You walk around him, leaving him to make the next move. You look over your shoulder and see him still standing there. You shake your head and make your way to the couch. You deposit your mug on a coaster and open the box of Legos.

You're sat on the floor between the couch and coffee table, Buffy the Vapire Slayer on the television screen, and piles of organized Lego pieces in front of you as Damien walks in and sits to your right. You silently follow the directions as the roses come to life in front of you. On the screen, Buffy punches Spike and your eyes get caught on it. Your brain turns off as you mindlessly watch the episode.

A hand on your left shoulder brings you back to your apartment. You look over and notice how the black painted nails match your shirt. Your attention goes to your right. Damien's face is unreadable as he stares at the screen. Your hands find themselves on the Legos again. Another two episodes and you've finished the roses and you're leaning back against the couch, watching Giles explain something to the Scooby Gang. Your eyelids grow heavy and your head starts to nod.

"Hey, I think it's time for bed." Damien's voice is soft. You nod and shift to stand up, but find Damien's shoulder instead. You sag onto him and close your eyes fully. "Oh, no, no, the floor isn't comfortable, babe."

"It is right now," you say. Your tired brain barely registered the pet name.

"Come on, it's late. Let's get you to bed."

You allow him to pull you up and guide you to bed. As he pulls the covers over you, you grab his wrist.

"You okay?"

"If it's so late then stay the night. Just don't watch any more Buffy."

"I don't want to impose. I should go."

"Please stay. I want to hang out with you."

He nods and you smile. You drift off pretty quickly, but you feel a kiss pressed to your forehead and hear the light switch click and the door shut before you're pulled into sleep.

The next morning you walk into the living room, hearing the TV playing New Girl. Confused, you look to the couch and remember last night. You smile at the softly snoring Damien on your couch. You grab the mugs and water glasses from the table and take them to the kitchen. You decide you want to hear the sweet words Damien said about you again, so you turn on the Smosh Mouth episode.

After his speech, the sound from your phone stops. You spin around to find Damien standing there.

"Good morning," you smile at him.

"Good morning. I have a question."

"I have an answer."

"You've already listened to this podcast. Why are you listening to it again?"

"To hear the nice things you said about me."

"But you've got the real thing right here. Don't you want me to tell you new words?"

You think about it a second before shaking your head. He looks a little confused as he cocks his head to the side with a smile.

"Why not?"

"Because I'd rather have your mouth on my mouth," you say shrugging and turning back to your project of deep cleaning the oven. The very confused "huh?!" noise that comes from Damien pulls a silently laugh from you.

"So, you do like me?"

"I literally kissed you on the mouth."

"I thought you were joking or, like, I don't know. Maybe doing a bit."

"You go process and once I am done with the oven, I'll come talk."

"Yeah, okay," Damien says as he turns around. As you take the next hour to clean the oven, you hear Damien in the bathroom. You shouted to him that an extra toothbrush is in a drawer.

When you finish cleaning the oven, you wash your hands and make your way to the living room where Damien is watching New Girl again. You sit on the opposite side of the couch and he pauses the show.

"Hi," he says.

"Hello," you say back as you turn your body towards him and cross your legs.

"So, you like me?"

"Yes."

"And I like you."

"Yes."

"What are we going to do about it?"

"Date? Make out? Fuck? I'm down for any and all of it."

He smiles and leans toward you. His hand goes to your knee closest to the couch.

"So, you don't mind if I do this?"

You shake your head. He brings his knee up to prop up on as his hands trail up to find your waist.

"Or this?"

You shake your head again and he leans fully over you as you lay back. He's holding himself on the arm of the couch to hover you. He brings his lips to yours in a quick, teasing kiss.

"Or this."

"Please keep doing that."

He smiles fondly at you as he pulls back and sits back down on the couch, pulling you into a sitting position.

"I like you, like, a lot and I want this to be something."

"I want the same."

"Can I take you on a date?"

You nod and grab his hand. You play with his fingers and you two talk about where you're going to go, what your relationship status is, and when and if you'll tell the fans. When you've settled everything for the time being he leans back and pulls you on top of him. He turns on Buffy the Vampire Slayer and the twonof you cuddle as you watch.

"Hey, wait a second."

"What's up?"

You shift to where you can reach his lips and kiss him. His hands find a home on your wait and neck as yours perch on his chest and cheek. He deepens the kiss and pulls you closer.

"They got the mustard out!" Sounds from the television and you break away, laughing and slightly out of breath.

"Dude?"

"Shut up, this is my favorite episode."

He chuckles and holds you close as you cuddle and watch your favorite episode of your favorite show.

#damien haas #damien haas fic #damien haas x reader #damien haas x you

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