#alt working title: pull my finger

[ruporas]

a conversation about scars

[ID: A Trigun comic. Vash is shirtless with his back to the viewer, showing off his many scars and metal implants. He complains, “Oh, c’mon... The shirt got stuck... Argh.” Wolfwood’s finger pokes him at the base of his neck, and Vash exclaims, “Ack! Wolfwood!?”

Wolfwood, looking down, asks, “Does it ever hurt?” Vash’s eyes go wide with surprise, and he looks down and says, “No-- Sometimes they ache, but nothing unbearable.” Wolfwood kisses the back of his neck and then leans against Vash, silent as Vash cheerfully laughs, “Got it! It’s free, finally!”

Wolfwood still looks sad, and Vash turns back and smiles nervously to ask, “What is it?” Hand over the grate over Vash’s heart, Wolfwood says, “... I was just thinking it would’ve been better had I met you sooner.” He hugs Vash from behind, and the background goes dark.

“If I were with you earlier, I’d been able to stop you from making dumb decisions. And protect you when you do.” Wolfwood’s expression is heavy as he looks down Vash’s back and says, “Then you’d at least have less of these.” He puts his face against Vash’s back, and Vash, mouth tight, thinks, “.. When he puts it like that... It’s so embarrassing somehow...”

Vash moves away and says forcefully, “But-- I don’t want you to protect me. Because then-- you’d get hurt.” Wolfwood angrily replies, “Huh? Are you forgetting-- Scars don’t last on me!” Vash angrily exclaims “Idiot!” and grabs Wolfwood’s collar.

Wolfwood, irate, goes, “Idiot!?” but Vash pulls down Wolfwood’s shirt as he leans their foreheads together. He exclaims, “I meant up here!” Vash looks upset and says, “Just because your body won’t leave anything-- doesn’t mean nothing every happened!”

Wolfwood grits his teeth as Vash continues, “So don’t say that-- I can take care of myself and I... wouldn’t want you to be burdened any-- mh?!” He breaks off with a loud sound of surprise when Wolfwood pulls him forward to kiss him.

Scowling very fiercely, Wolfwood demands, “Don’t call yourself my burden. That’s up to me!” Vash, flushed and scowling back with one hand raised to his mouth, shouts, “That’s what you’re upset about?!” For a second, they stay in the same positions, Vash braced over Wolfwood as they glare at each other, both labeled “upset.”

Then Vash turns somber and says, “These scars don’t bother me at all and I own responsibility for them... And... at least, I can count mines.” Wolfwood looks away as Vash touches his hair and says, “What about you?”

They lie down, Vash on top of Wolfwood as he says sadly, “I’m never going to know how many times you’ve been shot, how many times you had to drink that potion. (You won’t even tell me how it works...).” There’s a close up panel of Wolfwood’s eyes, tired and guilty, and Vash continues, “Don’t focus on me now... Please just protect yourself first.” Wolfwood responds, “You have to consider yourself first too.” Vash says, “This isn’t about me,” and Wolfwood argues, “Yes it is.” Vash says, “Nuh uh.”

There’s a final cartoony panel of them against white space: Vash pouting with annoyance at a ticked Wolfwood. Their next speech bubbles hover in white. Wolfwood aggravatedly shouts, “Listen to your own advice!”, and Vash exclaims, “Ack--! Don’t get mad, Wolfwood!!” “Fin” is written next to a donut and lollipop.

At the very bottom of the page is a cartoony sketch titled “Alt to p.4″. Vash presses their heads together and shouts, “I meant up here!” Wolfwood looks down with confusion at his bare chest. Vash looks down too, sweating. Wolfwood, squinting, says, “My ch--” but Vash cuts him off with a shrieked, “NO!!” End ID]

credits for ID text  

[leisures-writes]

in which peter b. parker just loves you so much! he needs you to know, in every way, he loves you… ( alt title — escape. )

who? — yan. peter b. parker x fem! reader

general warnings! — dc written by a 17 year old! housewife-esque & pregnant reader ( 12 weeks pregnant ), yandere / obsessive behavior directed towards the reader, ( i do not condone yandere / obsessive behavior at all. ), and non canon for into the spider verse & across the spider verse! dni if uncomfortable with any themes being written or with minor writing!

nsfw warnings! — pet names, whiny / whimpery / brief sub peter parker, begging ( m. & f. ) breeding kink, hair pulling ( m. receiving ), premature ejaculation, fingering ( f. receiving ), brief finger sucking ( m. receiving ), intimate hand holding & eye contact during sex, grinding / groping, praise ( m. & f. receiving ), squirting, creampie ( f. receiving ).

note! — by clicking read more, you’re agreeing to read dc or nsfw. my tag list and requests are open or, you can enjoy my y! peter b parker x f! reader x y! miguel o’hara fic! please like, comment & reblog <3

peter couldn’t believe how pretty you are.

gazing at you, the bustle of new york seems to fit you well, bringing a glow he would see when he shuts his eyes at night.

he dreams of you, the way you glance around, the way you seem to think of everything and nothing at all, the soft smile you gifted him, the way you smell, everything.

he felt so much joy seeing you, his pretty girl, sitting in his spacious apartment, waiting for him after a hard day of work and saving people. the way you’d greet him with a slight smile and dinner sitting on the table making his heart ( and cock! ) throb. the way you bustle around in the kitchen with a swelling stomach made him feel warm and fuzzy.

the rush of doing his job or being spider man — was nothing compared to the one he knew when you looped your arms around his waist and kissed him on the cheek as he did the dishes after dinner. it certainly did not compare to the way you beckon him to follow you to the bedroom with a playful glance.

he loves you. he truly does. ( he wishes you feel the same. )

he chases after you desperately, the thumping of feet on the wood making you laugh from the bed. he kneels in front of you, caressing your calves before trailing upwards. your eyes crinkle as he pushes past the shirt ( his shirt ) that covers your stomach that swells from your child. his hands cup the bare sides as he nuzzles you.

“hello there, little one. i hope you haven’t been giving your mom a hard time today. we love you a lot but we would appreciate if you weren’t kicking her and making her sore. i–”

the way your hand strokes his hair as he rambles on about his day makes him purr, his ears heating up as he chokes.

he peers up at you as your smile turns mischievous. the look sends shivers down his spine, making him clear his throat before he slowly unfolds from the kneel. he takes in the sight in front of him. his knees ache from his brief time on the floor.

( his heart hurts even more. )

“hi.”

he awkwardly greets. he sits besides you for the briefest moments before he pulls you on top of him to place the softest kisses on your face, the odd sensation causing you to snort. you greet him back with a murmur and chase his lips. he pulls back, grasping your face with such delicacy as tears well in your eyes at being denied affection. he studies your face for the longest time, the tears that wet your lashes, the tears make your eyes shine in the dim new york glow that peers past the curtains.

he gives you the same smile he gifted you this morning as he wipes away the tears with soft fingers.

“i love you.”

the words fall and he kisses you as if you held the last breath of air he could take. the contrast of the way he holds you and the kisses makes you reel — it makes you swoon.

his hands grasp your face for a beat more before one moves to hold your back, and the other angles your face so he can slot closer to you. there’s no tongue, not yet at least, but the firm pressure speaks more than words could. so much more than anything else.

( he wants to breath you in, to remember the feel of your breath of his cheek as you kiss, to know how he feels is reciprocated. he wants you. he chokes on the words he can’t speak into air. )

he pulls away, leaving you dazed and both of your lips slightly swollen. his hand stroke a soothing back and forth on your spine over the shirt as he pets your face. the shaky exhale gifted by you makes him so hard. he nuzzles into you, both his hands moving to your hips and brings you more firmly onto his lap, onto his hard on under his sweatpants, despite your protests of being heavy, pete! under light laughter.

he chuckles, his rebuttal of spider strength brushing your neck raising the thin hair on your skin. “besides, what kinda man do you take me for, hm? don’t you remember that anniversary dinner… the one were you tied me up and you sat on my–”

he pulls away from your neck. as he speaks, he grinds into you, smiling at the gasp you let out. “the one were you sat on my face and came twice — oh, oh, fuck, baby. please, just like that.” his hands wander away from your hip, exploring your thighs and ass. he seemed to like the way you tug on his hair, his grip tightening and hip jumping once, twice!

the whine he let out must excite you too, the smell of your arousal causing his head to spin as he begs you to pull more, please, please, sweetheart! fuck! want you to pull harder! as he peppers your face and neck with kisses.

( he can’t believe you’re with him years after school. him! loser parker from high school that got shoved into lockers by flash thompson and was bullied relentlessly. and you — pretty, kissable you. you, his english partner for a month. the girl who gained his heart within weeks of knowing. )

his breathing stutters as he gropes your ass, his come ruining his sweats. he whimpers slightly at the feeling, tears building in his eyes. you croon, hands no longer pulling his hair but rather petting, the motions soothing as he catches his breath.

“i–i’m sorry! i didn’t mean–”

“you did good, pete. don’t apologize, baby. i’m sure that today was stressful for you.”

his eyes were hazy as he glances up at you, his beautiful wife straddling him. guilt floods him as he realizes you had yet to come. hands coming up to support your neck and back, he gently flips the position to where he can see you and pleasure you. his fingers slip past your damp underwear, the both of you sighing. his thumb rubs your clit with just the right pressure to have your back arching gently with the gentle pace he sets after a minute. he marvels at how wet you are, the sound of your whimpering competing with the way his fingers fuck into you.

his cock swells in his sweatpants, straining against his cooling come but he focuses on you, your pleasure.

( how he often thinks of this moment. he thinks of how the sound of new york fades when he beholds you, and the smell of you and him fills the room. the way the light that frames you as if it were drawn to you, a sculpture come to life. oh, how he knew pygmalion felt as he gazes upon you. galatea and pygmalion reborn. how he worships you, the only woman in his life. )

he feels the way you lose the tension in your body as he praises you for taking him so beautifully, making him feel so good. your desperate cries rise in pitch before you crest, riding your orgasm with him keeping the same pace till you squirm away. he lets out a huff of amusement before he pulls his fingers out, sucking on your release.

“gonna eat you out later, baby. can i–?”

a quick nod and he tugs down his sweats and rubs your clit with the weeping head of his cock, the sensitivity of your orgasm causing a whine to pull from you. he shushes you gently, a small smile on his face quelling your huffs. he slides into you, bracing himself over you when he’s fully in.

he holds eye contact with you, one hand reaching for your own, the grip tight. tight enough to where one would wince. but you didn’t make a sound, fluttering your eyelashes at him instead as he fucks you with practiced thrusts, soft whimpers and panting passing his lips. you never leave him wanting, as he sees you start to drool slightly.

“my good girl. you’re so so pretty, full of my cock. i want– want you full of me, sweetheart, fuck. want children with you, as many as you want! after this one, let’s have one more– i know you—shit! you’re squeezing me so tight.”

his praise, paired up with his cock hitting that spot made your mouth drop open with a soundless wail. you clamp down so tightly on him, forcing his hips to slow as you squirt for him. the sight of you being cockdrunk, the tears falling in your eyes, had him groaning. his hips find the tempo he lost as the warmth in his stomach seemed to crawl up his spine, removing any thoughts not pertaining to you from his brain.

his hips still, the space between your hips nonexistent as he comes deep into you. he rests his forehead against yours as he struggles to think. breathes intermingling with each other, all he can do is coo at you, hands brushing your hair, your arms soothingly. your eyes, heavy with sleep, hold emotions you’re too tired to voice. he offers a lopsided smile as he slowly pulls out, his webs finding wipes. he cleans you first, gentle as your hips jolt from the sensation, then himself. he picks you up bridal style and heads to the bathroom to properly clean the both of you.

he kisses you once more, shutting his eyes in bliss.

“love you.”

“i love you too, sweetheart.”

when those words leave his mouth, he opens his eyes. his dingy apartment ceiling greets him. he rubs his eyes, dragging a hand down his face, his boxers damp.

“another dream.”

the heavy tone echoes and brings a frown to his lips.

( if you knew what was going through his head, would you hate him? the thought of keeping you here with him is a never ending mantra that creeps into his everyday life. )

you would. the woman he dreams of holding every night never his to know. what a pair you two would make; the hero and the civilian, spider man and an average living woman. just peter b. parker and the woman he’s been stalking for years, the gap between the two and his want for you growing with every minute that ticks by.

but maybe tonight, he can make dreams a reality.

rey speaks! — he’s sooooo delulu. ( i am too. ) did ya’ll like that lil twist, hehe? or did you see it a mile away? quick question, should i keep the google doc spacing or delete it and bring the text closer?

[thequeendesi]

Piercings

Title: Piercings

Alt Title: A Wincing Bitch

Warnings: swearing, you used to live in Andalsuia, AL, and work as a body mod artist, ashtray is still alive. Ty. And he’s 14 🫶🏻🫶🏻

Disclaimer; I don’t own you or the euphoria franchise. I just own the fic.

Rating: PG

You hummed to yourself, music playing on the radio. Your body moves on instinct as you set up for your client’s piercing. You lip synced to the lyrics as you moved everything the way you preferred. You moved to the front room as you led back ‘Ashtray’ and his older brother, Fez.

“Alright baby, go ‘head and sit there for me.” You pointed at the chair as you put your gloves on. “You ever gotten a nose piercing before?” You asked him.

“Nah.” He answered. “Alright. So the way I do it is I give you three dots. You can choose from the three dots where you’d prefer it, and if my dots don’t do it, you can.” You said to him.

“Mhm.” He nodded. You grabbed your toothpick and dipped it in the ink. You moved his chin with your index finger and leaned in a little.

“Dot. Dot. Dot.” You said, as you placed a triangle dotting pattern. You handed him your handheld mirror.

“Second dot.” He said. “Alright.” You smiled at him.

“So I know you wanted a hoop. But, I gotta pierce you with the standard post and head.” You said, grabbing the needle. He nodded and leaned back.

“Why no hoop?” Fez spoke up. “Well, standard piercing practice says no hoop for six weeks. Can cause unnecessary damage during the healing process.” You explained.

“Makes sense.” He nodded. “Alright, sugar.” You angled his head and aligned the tube to where your needle will come out. His eyes clenched shut.

“Say ‘when’.” You said, aligning the needle.

“When?” He asked, opening an eye to look at. “Alright.” You shrugged, and pushed the needle through, piercing the boy’s nose. “Ouch.” He seethed, closing his eyes again.

“Oh hush. It didn’t hurt.” You said, pulling the thread through and disconnected the needle.

“How do you know it ain’t hurt?” He asked, a tear involuntarily slipping. “I didn’t feel a thing.” You shrugged, attaching the jewelry to the thread and finishing the piercing process up by screwing on the head.

Fez laughed a little.

“If you wanna laugh, you can get pierced too.” You said, taking off your gloves.

“Bet.” Fez shrugged.

“What?” You said, disposing of the needle, tube and thread into the disposable basket.

“Why not. If my brother can do it, I should too. Support him, or whatever.” He said.

“You sure you just don’t want me in your business?” You asked, spraying disinfectant on your piercing tray.

“Could be that.” He smiled at you.

“Alright.” You said to him.

“Y’all flirting?” Ashtray asked Fez. “Move man.” He said. “Lil’ ma tryna clean and you’re still sittin’ there.” Fez said. “Go look at your piercing baby.” You said, patting his shoulder.

“Your voice got a twang to it. Where you from?” Fez asked.

“Don’t look at me weird when I say it.” You said. “Andalusia.” You said, spraying the chair down and wiping it.

“Where’s that?” The younger asked. “It’s a small-ish town in Alabama.” You answered, setting up for Fez’s piercing.

“Whatcha doing in East Highland, California?” Fez asked. “Wanted to make a name for myself. Didn’t expect to live in Alabama forever.” You shrugged. “You like it here?” He asked another question.

You motioned for him to sit. “Yea. It’s interesting.” You shrugged. “How old are you?” Ashtray asked.

“18.” You said, placing the same amount of dots and similar style on Fez’s nose.

“You just a year younger than me.” Fez said, looking in the mirror you handed him as soon as you did.

“You’re younger than I expected.” You said. “You always wanted to do piercings?”

“Yea.” You nodded. “I’m apprenticing for my tattooing too.” You said. “You makin’ good money?”

“You two ask a lot of questions.” You laughed a little. “This one.” Fez pointed at one.

“I make pretty good money.” You nodded. “You make good money doing whatever it is you do?” You asked him. “You could say that.” Fez said.

You aligned the tube where the needle will come out. “Alright, I gotta question for you.” You said. “You know what a wincing bitch sounds like?” You asked.

“Na-A-Ouch!” Fez winced as you pushed the needle through and discarded the tube as you chased the thread through. “I guess you do.” You shrugged a little and inserted the post and screwed in the head.

“Fuck…”

“Alright boys, listen up.” You took off your gloves and placed your hands on your hips.

“No touching, no nose candy, no swimming.” You said. A warning you tell everyone. “Six weeks to change it out. Please come here before you try it yourself. I’ll even change it for free, so long as you bring or buy the jewelry.” You said, disposing of the needle and thread and tube.

“What if I wanna see you before six weeks is up?” Fez asked, standing up to look at his nose in the mirror.

“Make an appointment, or, ask me on a date.” You looked up at him through your lashes.

“What’s that number?” He asked, giving you his phone to put your number in it. You smiled a little and put your number and name in it.

“I’ll text you date details tonight ma.” He said, putting two crisp hundred dollar bills, and walked out with Ashtray.

[cookieeks-art]

Sorry for the delay, but here it finally is! A synopsis for the superhero au! (please note that details like names of locations can very much change in the future):

The strange case (title pending)

Our story takes place on a fairy tale island which has since long gone through it’s own sort of industrial revolution, and where the stories of kings and queens are for the most part ancient history. F7 is a group of hero’s who’s main headquarters is in Goldcity in the small central country of Mitlandia, which is also the county where the security company White Apple originates and is still mainly situated. White Apple was mainly ran by Mr White, but after Mr White is suddenly placed into a coma it’s taken over by his wife Regina White. As Regina steps into her new role the daughter of Mr White, Snow White, starts to grow suspicious of her stepmother, noticing how dismissive she seems of her fathers situation, and the strange decisions she’s made for the company since taking control.

At the same time a few smaller White Apple facilities have started to experience thefts and break ins by an unidentified masked individual. This individuals civilian identity is that of Dr Edda Andersdotter PhD, a analytical chemist who moved to Mitlandia for work at Silva labs, a small independent lab, and to put some more distance between herself and her relatives.

One day F7 in alerted to a break-in in the main White Apple building, and goes to stop it, in which they begin to uncover what Regina has truly been up to alongside Snow White and has their first encounter with the strange masked individual who introduces themselves as Doctor Hyde.

This, is also a romance.

Now, here’s some small sketches!:

I might change designs for the super hero suits in the future, as I’m currently going back and forth on if they should have masks or not. I don’t really imagine any of them having any secret identities, so the masks might the sort of pointless, but it’s about the aesthetic you know.

(ID in alt and under cut)

[ID:

A collection of pencil sketches that have been photographed and digitally shaded with warm grey tones.

First sketch depicts my oc Edda (A pale chubby woman, with deep eyebags, brown hair and grey eyes) and Snow White from Red shoes and the seven dwarfs, but from my superhero au. Edda’s hair is cut short, and she’s dressed in a dark button up shirt, a knee length office skirt, an open lab coat, and a lanyard with an attached card. She’s standing with her hands inside her pockets. Snow is wearing a blouse with short puffy arms, a belt, an office skirt and a lanyard with an attached card as well. She’s holding a file under her arm as she waves at the viewer. In the right corner there is a signature reading “Cookieek”.

Second sketch depicts my oc Edda and Arthur from Red shoes, in the superhero au. Edda is dressed in a dark button up, belt, dark pants and shoes. Arthur is dressed in full plate armour, carrying a helmet under his arm. He’s holding out a flower to Edda, smiling with hearts in-front of his face, while Edda looks down at the flower in confusion. In the right corner there is a signature reading “Cookieek”.

The third sketch depicts my oc Edda and Arthur from Red shoes, in the superhero au. Edda is dressed in a double-breasted vest, dark shirt, and dark cravat, with her hair pulled back with a hair band. She’s looking at something off screen with a perturbed expression. Arthur is dressed in full plate armour, and is holding a sword in front of Edda, while holding his cape over her back and looking at something off screen. In the right corner there is a signature reading “Cookieek”.

The fourth sketch features Merlin from Red shoes in the superhero au. He’s dressed in a super suit with lightning designs over his shoulders and waist, with the swirl designs from is original outfit on his stomach, along with a belt, a pair of gloves and a mask covering his eyes. He’s smiling at the viewer while making a finger heart. In the right corner there is a signature reading “Cookieek”.

The fifth sketch is of Jack from Red shoes in the superhero au. He’s wearing a super suit styled like is original clothes from the movie, but with dark accent to the sides, a par of diamonds encrusted gloves, a mask that covers all but his lower face (safe his chin) and the top of his hair, the swirls from his original vest placed on his arms under a dark pair of shoulder pads, and the invisibly cloak which he now carries around his neck. He’s looking at something off screen with a serious expression, lifting up his fist as if readying for a fight. In the right corner there is a signature reading “Cookieek”.

End of ID]

[anonymouspuzzler]

I TOLD YA THERE'D BE ANOTHER MEMORY VAULT

this was a "part two" of my last memory vault based on the "Uncle Cally" AU, this time depicting how ol' Uncle Cally started moonlighting as Doctor Loboto! I got a lot more ambitious with this one, and I think it made me drift from aping the Scott C style as closely, but I'm still darn proud of it...!! I'd like to do more in this style someday. I've got ideas...

(alt text/image IDs under the cut!)

[Image 1 ID: A title slide mimicking those of the Psychonauts memory vaults, reading "The Amoral Doctor Loboto!"]

[Image 2 ID: Cal leaning back against a portable ticket booth, looking concerned. Inside, Donatella is comforting a distraught Augustus sitting on the floor with the cash register, a speech bubble coming from him showing a stack of money with a big X over it. Outside the booth, Raz is working on sending PSI-punches at a bag of flour marked with a generic bad guy, which Cal is holding up with telekinesis.]

[Image 3 ID: Cal in a small, rickety flatbed truck with miscellaneous scrap in the bed, driving away from the circus camp under cover of moonlight. He is looking back at a billboard advertising the Aquatos, looking conflicted. The edges of the image are crowded with dark foliage.]

[Image 4 ID: Cal in his "Doctor Loboto" guise in some kind of lair, lit only by a barred window above him. There is a cartoony death ray pointed at the window next to him, with an open panel he appears to be working on, holding a drill in one hand and a "Brain Surgery for Dummies" book in the other. In the foreground is a fish in a bowl, hooked up to machinery with wires and diodes.]

[Image 5 ID: Cal, back in his circus outfit, holding a stack of cash in one hand and proudly handing Raz a True Psychic Tales comic with the other. Raz looks utterly delighted. In the background, Augustus, stretching and practicing with Mirtala and Dion, looks over his shoulder at this with suspicion.]

[Image 6 ID: Cal in the dead of night using his telekinesis to chase off two shadowy figures, who are fleeing in terror. He is standing on some crates with his cloak billowing and a hacksaw in one hand. Behind him on a wall is a poster of the Aquatos.]

[Image 7 ID: Cal, in his "Doctor Loboto" guise, checking a PO box. He is opening an envelope containing a letter addressed to "Dr. Loboto", a blueprint, some cash, and a pamphlet for Whispering Rock on which Oleander's portrait can be seen.]

[Image 8 ID: "Loboto" and Oleander at a wooden workbench. Oleander, grinning manically with his hands spread across a blueprint of the brain tank, is explaining his diabolical plan, as represented by word balloons depicting a child having their brain removed, the brain-tank shooting lighting, and Oleander holding the world in his palm. "Loboto" is leaning against the table with a finger on his chin in consideration, though a thought bubble reveals he is actually imagining Oleander as a strongman lifting a giant dumbbell, with little hearts floating around him.]

[Image 9 ID: Oleander and Cal in the Thorney Towers lab, working on the brain tank. Oleander is sitting on top of the tank's frame, holding a welding torch in one hand; he lifts his welders mask to chat with Cal with a big grin. Cal, lying on the ground next to the tank holding a screwdriver, actually pulls down his face mask to grin back. Mr. Pokeylope is visible in his cage in the background, and further back Sheegor walks in looking nervous and holding a jarred brain.]

[pochipop]

＃GENSHIN IMPACT !! ♡ — FALLING FOR YOU (DILUC X READER).

#. synopsis! — diluc ruminates on autumn and all it brings forth .

#. characters! — diluc.

#. warnings! — mild angst .

#. word count! — 1.5k .

#. alt accounts! — @ddollipop (nsfw) @yyolkchi (reblog/spam) .

#. others! — navigation & masterlist .

#. notes! — this fic was written for a fall themed event hosted by @teyvattales + my chosen prompt was the quote "autumn shows us how beautiful it is to let things go" <3

Diluc wasn’t always so indifferent to the fall season. In fact, when he was much younger —still a happy-go-lucky mess of locks sewn from burning embers and eyes of roaring flames— he quite liked it. Autumn brought a bitter chill, one he used to relish in after the heat of summer became daunting to play in. Now, it serves only to remind him of memories he’d much rather keep buried deep inside. The nippy atmosphere reminds him of dark, stormy nights, of blood on his hands that seeped into the lines of his palms and into the grooves between his twitching fingers.

The cold reminds him of the brother he lost and has yet to regain, and of the father he simply cannot.

Then again, autumn isn’t all bad. It was around this time two years ago that Diluc spent three nights and four days working up the nerve to tell you what ended up being a jumbled mess of things that all but boiled down to “I love you.”

And love you he does, with every waking moment and every feeble beat of his waning heart. But loving autumn is another story entirely, —one Diluc hasn’t rewritten yet.

Still, he likes the way the leaves turn colors before they fall to the ground, like they’ve been staving off one last performance before the curtain closes on their vivid season. He also likes the crunch of dead leaves beneath his feet in the aftermath. The sound is comforting in a way he can’t quite put his finger on. Maybe it’s cathartic to hear something crush beneath his weight when the world has all but shoved him to his knees under its own every chance it’s gotten for Celestia knows how long by now. Maybe he just thinks the sound itself is satisfying. Maybe he’ll never know one way or the other.

The sudden rise of innocent giggles through the chilly autumn air pulls Diluc from his contemplation. You stoke the dimming fire in his chest when you snicker a little.

“They’re so cute and carefree,” you comment, a smile tugging at your lips.

Diluc nods, but says nothing in return.

Kids have always loved to play in the leaves that pile up around Dawn Winery this time of year. They come and go as they please knowing Diluc has no complaints about it. His father always let the local children of Mondstadt come by whenever they wanted, making it a well-known destination for little feet and tiny hands to come clambering through.

Although it feels like it was centuries ago by now, Diluc was once just like them. He has many fond memories of being in their shoes, rummaging about with Kaeya as their father tended to the grapevines. They’d play much like the kids just a ways off are playing now; gathering all the leaves together into a pile, then counting to three and jumping into them to watch as they scatter up into the air.

These days, Diluc lets the local kids play at Dawn Winery, both in memory of his late father’s wishes, and to commemorate the days of his youth. . . The youth he shared with Kaeya, who’s now the acting Cavalry Captain for the Knights of Favonius. Such a fancy title for someone so indignant, Diluc thinks, but he can’t say that his sibling doesn’t deserve it. Unfortunately, Diluc also can’t say he doesn’t love Kaeya, or that he sees him as a stranger, despite the obvious fractures in their tattered relationship. He may well hold a lot of grudges against the younger, but the starry-eyed knight inside of him knows all too well that Kaeya will always be his little brother. Diluc always wanted one of those.

“You’re quiet today,” you comment, reaching out to take one of Diluc’s large hands into your own.

Quieter than usual, anyway, you think, but choose not to tack on.

Though your hands aren’t much warmer than his, you rub your skin along his so that the friction results in heat. For someone with a Pyro Vision, Diluc’s hands are prone to being cold.

“I’m just. . .” he begins, but trails off a bit, searching for the right way to say it.

“Just thinking,” he decides.

That’s putting it mildly, for certain, but it’s the only way he knows how to phrase it.

“Wanna talk about it?” You offer.

It’s a pleasantry, —one that Diluc appreciates, but won’t take you up on until he’s been pushed a little closer to the edge. Right now, these feelings weigh heavily on his heart, but they’re nothing he can’t handle. When the scale tips a little, he’ll seek your guidance. If the scale doesn’t tip at all, he might do it anyway. That’s the way he’s always been.

“That’s okay,” he replies.

Somewhere between the nod and the smile you offer in response, there’s a silent “but thank you very much, because I know you’d listen if I chose to talk about it”. He doesn’t have the words or the will right now, and he’s been searching for them since that fateful, rainy night all that time ago. You don’t get it, but you get him, and there’s not much else to understand as far as Diluc is concerned.

He gives your hands a gentle squeeze. His fingers are still cold.

“On the count of three we jump, okay?” One of the little boys asserts, to which his friends reply with a chorus of affirmations.

A part of you can’t help but to imagine that Diluc played a similar role when he was that age. Confident and effortless to follow the lead of, it’s easy to think your lover was the head of the pack, even if he’s quiet and likes to work alone these days. You didn’t know him back then, but you’ve heard your fair share of stories (especially from Kaeya, who might not know it, but his unhidden eye sparkles with fondness when he talks about his brother.) They might not be related by blood, but the bond they have is undeniable; even in the thick of their shared anger and bitterness. Some things take time to soothe over, and you suppose that’s one of them.

Diluc doesn’t say it, but there’s a flicker of warmth in his eyes that tells you his train of thought isn’t far off from your own. There’s lots of things he doesn’t say, but over time, you’ve gotten quite good at reading between the lines he draws for you. For someone so complex, Diluc can be starkly simple, and you love him for it.

“What’re you smiling about?” He asks.

You hadn’t realized that your lips were curling up ever-so-gently at the sides, but with Diluc on your mind, it’s hard to keep a straight face.

“Nothing in particular,” you shrug, grin widening. “I’m just happy to be here with you.”

Today is nothing inherently special, but Diluc can’t say he doesn't feel the same. Your hands don’t warm him much, but your love has set him ablaze. Again, he says nothing in return, but the mimicking grin that etches its way across his face speaks volumes he can’t find the voice to. It’s easier to appreciate the good of the world when you’re next to him, —easier to appreciate the beauty of autumn instead of mourning the losses all around him.

Diluc decides then that he’ll make apple cider for you this year. He’s sure his father would have wanted you to try it anyway. Maybe he’ll send a bottle Kaeya’s way as well, even if his little brother never liked it nearly as much as he did. When he thinks about it, his chest feels a little lighter. You’ll put the rim of a pristine glass to your lips, and he knows he’ll get a little lost in the way they form to match the flow of the bubbling liquid inside as you tilt it ever so gently. He’ll have to force his gaze away before you catch sight of it, lest you notice and give him a little laugh that makes heat rush to the plush of his cheeks.

There’ll be a note tied to the neck of Kaeya’s bottle, but Diluc won’t sign it. There won’t be any doubt about who it came from in spite of it. Though it’s not the Cavalry Captain’s drink of choice, he won’t hesitate to pour himself a glass. Oceans rage between them, but he’ll sit up in his office with his feet kicked up in a way his late father likely would have scolded him for, sparkling apple cider in hand. He’ll finish the bottle before the week comes to a draw, and he’ll know that the crashing waves between them have settled, if only for a little while.

Diluc might share a glass with you when the mid-fall moon rises high into the sky, —when Dawn Winery is awash in the humble glow.

Maybe then Diluc will take a moment to realize just what he can learn from the season when autumn shows him just how beautiful it can be to let things go.

[its-max-okay]

TWIST MY ARM || plot drop .o3

Thursday 22 October 2020; Afternoon. You are halfway through your shift when an emergency patient shows up at the Triage Center. His left arm from the elbow down is missing and the stump is bleeding heavily. He is also missing several of the fingers on his right hand. He has avoided answering any and all questions about how he received these injuries but after looking them over you’re fairly certain they were blown off by an explosive device, possibly one he was working on.

This patient is a Club Strongarm and has already paid the non-Spade fee for healing. 

Partway through an exhaustive anatomy study with a couple of the lower-ranked Emitters, Max might’ve been lowkey praying for something more exciting to happen. Even a sprained wrist from the training grounds could’ve spiced things up; she would’ve settled for a Command Sergeant Major with a papercut, quite frankly, but what she was ultimately delivered was much more of a handful than that.

There were two things Max was positive she should not be taking this much delight in: one, that her source of excitement was the fact that someone was horribly hurt; and two, that this was going to be her first real shot at attempting to regrow a patient’s limb. It was funny how reluctant people were to chop off so much as a finger for the sake of her practice. She couldn’t even talk Kev into it, and there was a lot he was willing to do for her.

Granted, she’d really have preferred her first go at this not be with the likes of a Strongarm, and a really fucking shifty one at that -- but beggars couldn’t be choosers, obviously, and Max wasn’t about to look a gift amputation in the mouth.

“Back right-hand room,” Max ordered, leaving little room for argument as she stepped to the side and pointed with conviction. The two propping the injured man up followed her lead without argument. A third Emitter started to fall into step, but Max caught her by the elbow to lean in and murmur, “I need you to sedate him. Put him all the way under. I don’t want him to move while I’m working, but I also don’t want him to wake up for a good while after I’m done.” Max raised her eyebrows meaningfully. “Understand?”

The woman’s eyes widened for a moment before she nodded, and quickly. “Yes, Sergeant Major.”

“You’re going to help him?” Kev murmured dubiously from where he hovered at her elbow, and Max hesitated only briefly before nodding.

“We’re obviously gonna need to get more information out of him, and I’m hoping nothing can guilt trip into answering questions like, hey, you ungrateful bitch, I grew your whole arm back; throw me a bone.” Kev only looked more dubious. Max shrugged, undeterred. “Anyway, come on. You’re gonna watch.”

Kev paled.

By the time Max brushed between the curtains to assess her newest patient, the man was already heavily sedated and his shirt cut back, the wound hastily cleaned but still bleeding. Kev made an uncomfortable noise in the back of his throat that Max ignored, dragging a chair loudly from the corner to plant at the man’s side before cracking her knuckles.

This was liable to take a while.

‘Thick skin,’ she thought absently to herself, Anton’s words coming to mind as a slow sweep of her hand worked to stem the flow of blood, pinching together muscle fiber and flesh until she had a neater foundation to work on. The man’s skin didn’t look any thicker than it ought to -- and gods knew they all had a pretty clear view of that -- but as Max let her eyes unfocus and started to build on what was lost, she could feel a soft, stubborn resistance.

This was going to take a while.

The rest of the Triage center fell away. Max hadn’t even noticed if any of the other students had snuck in to watch, nor was she likely to notice if any additional emergencies felt like taking place beyond the sanctuary of their drawn curtain. She had one focus and one focus only, and that was unspooling thread after silvery thread from her core through her fingertips to fortify and pull together flesh and relentless bone. As before and as always he worked layer by layer, inside-out, taking breaks from the exhaustive thickness of his bones to fold softer layers of muscle and skin around them.

The longer she worked the heavier and heavier Max’s elbows leaned at the edge of the bed, shoulders sagging and breaths growing shallow. She’d made it so far as the wrist, and while reworking the twin radius and ulna was a whole task in and of itself, the wrist was going to be a particular bitch. There were so many individual bones in such careful alignment -- and maybe this guy didn’t deserve full range of motion in his joints for whatever dumbass thing he’d done to land himself on their doorstep, but Max was going to give it to him, anyway. Maybe she’d leave it with a weird little click when it moved a certain way; something to remember her by.

‘Asclepius, give me strength.’ The thought -- the prayer -- was intrusive, unbidden, but the sentiment stood: if the Old God was watching, if he really cared enough about one foul-mouthed Emitter and the crystal core nestled deep inside her, he could spare half a minute’s attention.

Whether or not her god heard her, apparently Kev did. Maybe she’d accidentally murmured her prayer aloud or maybe she just looked especially rough; either way, she felt the young Healer’s hands settle gently, almost reluctantly, at her shoulders. Max drew a shaky breath through a ghost of a smile and dug her heels in.

She visualized the carefully penned anatomical structures in her father’s journals, ones she’s painstakingly copied and re-copied and committed to memory. Scaphoid. Lunate. Trapezium--

Max flinched even as her thumb formed and sculpted the next delicate piece of bone, feeling the edges of even her expanded core start to fray. She wanted a chance to push her new limits, and she was getting it -- she only hoped she wouldn’t find them before she was finished.

“Trapezoid. Capitate. Hamate. Triquetrum…” Max sucked in a breath, briefly interrupting the recitation she knew by heart, knew in her sleep. Kev’s fingers gave her shoulders a reluctant but fortifying squeeze. She continued. “Pisiform. Fuck.”

Nineteen delicate bones to go. ‘Could just make it five,’ she thought to herself with a wry, borderline delirious amusement as she continued. ‘Five weird finger-sticks…’ Max cut the thought off before she made herself laugh. The metacarpals and phalanges, at least, were relatively uniform and didn’t need to slot together so particularly and delicately as the carpals.

Max could feel her esophagus tightening as she smoothed new skin over more delicate knots of muscle. ‘That’s new,’ she noted distractedly, feeling as though the rough, fuzzy edges of her expanded core were starting to bleed into and lash out at what was closest in protest of its prolonged use. It was stronger, obviously, but more petulant -- much like its owner.

By the time Max had finished the left arm down to the fingertips and neat pink fingernails, her entire insides felt like they were sandpapered raw and rebelling against her. The problem was, she wasn’t quite done. They weren’t quite done.

“Other hand.”

“Max--” Kev started reluctantly, ever the last to attempt to school her on her limits.

“Other hand.”

Kev left her only long enough to step in and reach over the man’s body to grab his opposite hand, and Max took a measure of pride both in how quickly he moved and how little he balked at the charred stumps of fingers.

With the practice from the first under her belt and the better general shape it was in, Max made comparatively quick work of the Strongarm’s other hand and the remaining few fingers even as her breaths grew ragged and thin. She didn’t even have the energy to swear when she finished, which was telling -- her head simply bowed, eyes squeezed shut and prickling, before she pushed the man’s hand off of his stomach to flop back to the other side of the table.

Kev was saying something, either to her or those nearby, and while she couldn’t hear exactly what Max still felt the briefest, most exhausted surge of pride. He’d stuck it out, and better yet, he hadn’t puked over her shoulder.

She could feel his gawkish arms trying to guide her out of the chair, and Max moved with the touch and without complaint. “Alert the General,” she insisted blearily, leaning her weight into Kev as they made their way towards the opposite far corner where he could help her onto an empty cot. “I know he’s busy… but…” The Emitter struggled to focus as she stretched out, head sinking into the pillow with a prolonged exhale, feeling her muscles and organs shifting around the shrapnel edges of her depleted core. Her face twisted into a grimace, one that only relaxed with the weight of Kev’s hand on her shoulder again. “He doesn’t have to come, but someone’s gotta… tell him what happened… and who we got…”

The high Emitter fell quiet for a moment, eyes shut and apparently relaxed. Kev shifted uncomfortably at the side of the bed, and would’ve stepped away if she hadn’t suddenly grabbed the front of his uniform.

“And get me a goddamn sandwich.” A pause. “Please.”

[mxpseudonym]

It's Probably The Hash

Alt Title: The Consequences of a Calm and Collected Tantrum

Pairing: Tommy Shelby x male!OC (Luke Anderson) or if you don’t mind characterization, you can read it as a self insert

Reader Gender Expression: Man, he/him pronouns

Summary: What do you do with confiscated fudge that’s laced with hash? You have too much of it, of course!

Length: 4111

Warnings: NSFW, sex under the influence, substance use, non-con substance use (OC feed Tom Tom weed fudge w/out his consent), a little bit of spit play

A/N: Twas a joy to write this fun/sexy/hazy piece! I know there’s a lot of serious substance abuse in Peaky Blinders, so I won’t say I wish there was a ton more “under the influence” pieces, but I don’t see many and I think it can be hot if done well so here’s me tossing my hat into the ring.

"What is it?"

"It's fudge. However, the messenger dropping it off said it was important that no one but Mr. Arthur open it," Lydia, Tommy's secretary, whispered.

It was the end of the day, nearly 5 pm already, and Luke was coming to meet with Tommy after a long day in the field. But Tommy being preoccupied on a phone call gave Lydia the perfect moment to let Luke know his secret operation having secretaries in for the Shelby Company and the Blinders to intercept Arthur's packages for a while proved fruitful. A normal-looking sweets box delivered by a nervous delivery boy who insisted it must only go to Arthur Shelby made their ears perk indeed.

Now, Lydia and Luke stood huddled by her desk and staring at ten perfectly cut fudge pieces in a box just a bit bigger than Luke's hand. He hummed in thought.

"So you think it's laced with hash?"

"Well, I'm not, personally, part of any circles that would be familiar with such things as,"

"I don't care what you do when you aren't here."

"It's definitely hash," Lydia concluded quickly. "Sativa, actually. There's a popular recipe going around right now from some cookbook, and you get the stuff from the pharmacy. It's supposed to help you relax after a long day."

"From some cookbook? You kids these days will try anything," Luke chided, then sighed. "Alright, I'll keep it. You can go home."

"Thank you!"

The package went into his briefcase before Luke knocked on Tommy's door and slipped in. The rest of the staff had gone home, yet here was the man he cherished, sitting behind his grand wood desk with a receiver glued to his ear.

Tommy gave him little more than a glance and a head nod. Still, he smirked at him. The best part about a slightly distracted Tommy was that Luke could slide into place beside him and look over the papers on the desk, gathering information before the mysterious man who claimed to know best filtered all of it into "secrets" and "need to know." There were new investments in opportunities in Sydney, a dinner party invitation with politicians that needed strategizing, unique properties in London to purchase, etc. Luke sighed. They'd likely work into the night.

"Busy, busy, busy," Luke clicked his tongue, gaining another glance from Tommy. He checked his watch. It was about dinner time too. If he ran to the chippy, Tommy would probably be done by the time he got back, and they could get cozy.

A grin rose to Luke's face at the thought of another night spent with his favorite things: work, food, and Tommy. He let out a breath and shook his head. Thank god he hadn't said that aloud and that Isiah wasn't around. The kids were already calling him old. He'd never live that down.

It turned out that there was no need to rush at all. Luke had eaten his fish and chips, licked oil and vinegared fingers clean, and started on his reports in the chair across from Tommy, all while the man was still gabbing.

In hindsight, Luke would say his thoughts drifting to the 10 pieces of dubious chocolate in his bag resulted from what Tommy liked to call a "calm and collected tantrum." He pulled it from his bag and thought up a half-baked pros and cons list.

Con: he'd be a hypocrite because the only reason he even had the goodies was that he confiscated them from Arthur on Linda's behalf.

Con: he and Tommy still had work to do.

Con: the only way to get Tommy to eat it is if he doesn't tell him what it is. That's not good.

Pro: it would help them relax.

Pro: it would get back at Tommy for the time he gave him cocaine just to see what would happen.

Pro: he wanted to.

Good enough.

Luke popped the box open and pulled out a piece. It looked and smelled like traditional fudge. Actually, it looked and smelled like very well-made fudge, if he were honest.

Luke took a bite, eating half, and let out a pleased hum. It was rich, not too sweet, and smooth. The other half was consumed in a flash. When he looked up, Tommy was watching him while explaining the things the Shelby Company could do for whoever was on the other end of the line. Luke popped another one in his mouth, then paused. How many were too many? He held off on eating more, only grabbing another piece the moment Tommy hung up the phone.

"You brought sweets?"

"Just a little, you should have some. It's delicious."

"I haven't eaten," Tommy motioned to the grease-stained newspaper that held his lukewarm dinner. Luke stood anyway, making his way around the desk to lean against it, facing Tommy.

"We're not kids anymore. No one's here to tell us we'll spoil our dinner. Anyway, I actually think you'll like it."

He held the sweet up to Tommy's lips the same way he'd offer Tommy a cigarette. Tommy's eyes locked on his as he obediently opened his mouth and let Luke place the rectangle on his tongue. Luke licked his fingers and watched Tommy's face soften into contemplation. Just adorable.

"Mm, not too sweet."

"That's what I thought. Now, are the calls over? I'm feeling neglected."

"Yes, sir."

"Good, then I have meeting notes for you."

Getting sucked into work was natural, and Luke loved the thrill of a well-oiled machine. Organized documents, money coming in on time, paying people handsomely, this was the life, no matter what Isiah said. Tommy would have kicked Luke out of his desk chair, but watching him make googly eyes at a contract was better.

"Do you look at me like you look at that paperwork?" Tommy asked.

"Hardy har oh," Luke stopped short when he saw Tommy biting into another piece of fudge. Oh yeah, he'd almost forgotten. It had been an hour since their first fudge dose, and Luke hadn't felt anything more than a slight dropping of his shoulders. He even ate another one just in case.

"Oh?"

"They're good, aren't they? And you didn't even spoil your dinner."

"That's true. I was actually hungry today."

"Really? Maybe it's the hash," Luke said, overselling the punchline with an exaggerated wink. "Or at least I think that's hash in them, but I don't feel anything," Luke said offhand, returning to his contract. When Tommy didn't respond, Luke glanced up to see the man looking at him in disbelief.

"I can't tell if you're being serious right now."

A quick knock on the door stopped any further discussion, and Finn waltzed in with a thick envelope.

"Hi, Tommy. Luke, I have the rent money from the tenements."

"Thanks, Finn."

Luke stood and smiled as the youngest Shelby walked around the desk. He then reached up to ruffle his hair.

"I hate when you do that," Finn mumbled with red cheeks, though he felt grumpy when it ended too soon. Luke was looking at him like he was an alien. "What's with you?"

"Why does your hair feel like that?" Luke asked, reaching out again, slowly this time.

"Huh? What do you mean? What's with you?" Finn asked again, but Luke was too absorbed in a particularly curly lock of his hair. He turned to his brother standing on the other side of the desk, looking frustrated as he ran a cigarette over his lips out of habit, about to light it. Now that Finn thought about it, Tommy had been making the same motion since he'd arrived. Still, while pointing a thumb at Luke, Finn asked, "What's with him?"

"Finn, did you give him sweets?" Tommy asked with a sigh, remembering the origins of Arthur's Tokyo habit.

"No fucking way," Finn nearly yelled in excitement.

While Luke was his brother's, whatever he was to Tommy, he eventually became like a brother to Finn too, someone Finn looked up to. Luke had a graceful elegance and was always calm and in control. But now he was... Finn looked back to Luke to confirm. He was going to be a complete wreck.

"Yes fucking way, now, what was in them?" Tommy motioned for him to continue.

"I didn't give them to him, but I know Arthur had some fudge with us a couple of weeks ago. He asked if someone could make something stronger for him. I heard it was delivered today, but no one could find it. This explains where it went. I can't beweave it wah ou, ow!" Finn winced as Luke pinched and pulled his cheeks.

"You're so small, but so big now," Luke said, his voice watery with nostalgia. Finn grimaced but leaned in when he saw Luke's eyes. The usual deep brown pools were nearly black from his blown-out pupils. Finn pulled away from the bruising pinches and held Luke's wrists.

"Whoa, how many did you eat?"

"One, two," Luke mumbled as he counted on his fingers.

"Shit,"

"Three."

"Three?!" Finn stepped back, looked the grown man over, and then looked to Tommy. It was ridiculous to say it, but, like a couple of kids, Luke could definitely get Tommy to do whatever he did. With slowed movements, the Shelby leader stood looking for a lighter that Finn would bet money was in his pocket. "How about you, Tommy?"

"One and a half," Tommy answered as straightforward as ever.

"Is this bad?" Luke asked. He crossed his arms and placed a hand on his chin. "Why do I feel like Eve who gave the apple?"

"Because you fucking are!" Tommy threw down the cigarette, giving up on the lighter and his attempt to keep his cool. "What the fuck were you thinking? You of all people."

"I think you should consider calming down," Luke said, holding his hands to indicate a deep breath.

"Luke, before I strangle you, explain yourself. Not that there could be a good explanation for this." Tommy put his hands on his waist and waited expectantly. Finn was interested as well.

"I know you're upset. But I thought we could benefit from a little relaxing evening over paperwork. What's the worst that will happen?"

"Well, for some people, it can be relaxing. It just depends on the person and how much. But, uh, you had a lot, Luke," Finn reminded them while trying not to burst into laughter. "I mean, there's nothing you can do now but stay put and ride it out. You'll probably feel like you're going to die at some point, so going out isn't a great idea, but you'll be fine other than that. You'll get really thirsty and probably hungry, but don't eat anymore of those."

"How often do you do drugs?" Luke asked suddenly, but Finn just smiled and backed towards the door. That was his cue to leave.

"I'll bring some food by. We'll talk about this later, young man," Finn pointed at Tommy, giving his best Polly impersonation. Tommy winced. Polly could never know about this.

"Get out!"

"Bye, Finn lad!" Luke waved and sat back down. Tommy turned to him with fiery eyes. Luke looked content while running his hands over the chair's arms.

"I know you're mad. But I think it's going to be okay."

"Have you done this before?"

"Nope. The only drug I've had was snow when you snuck it to me." Luke gave him a knowing look. Tommy ran a hand over his face.

"For the last time, you got drunk and pulled the bottle I took from Finn out of my pocket. I didn't give it to you. You stole it."

"Sure." Luke gave an appeasing yet condescending hum. "Anyways, Finn said we'll be fine, and I believe him."

Warning: The following is a record of events told as best remembered by the soberest of the two, Tommy Shelby. Narration can be taken with a grain of salt.

In all honesty, all of this was a surprise, but it wasn't an unfamiliar feeling for Tommy. One and a half pieces of fudge gave him a fuzzy feeling, but not comparable to the pure opium he used to go to sleep years before.

He was completely fine.

Luke, however, was less refined. After it all hit him, he did, in fact, think he was going to die.

According to Luke's ramblings, it was more a feeling that he was coming apart at the seams and there would be no way to put him back together. His solution for this was to have Tommy take a mental note of exactly how his body looked now. So he stripped to nothing but his boxers and kept turning so Tommy could look at him from all angles.

Of course, this was much too fast, and Tommy never said he was all that great at mending anyhow. Eventually, Tommy got too dizzy and told Luke to put some clothes on. Buttons were an immediate hurdle that was much too tall to cross, so he settled on Tommy's long coat.

"Oh, thank you, Tommy," Luke sighed, going over to Tommy and hugging him.

Luke leaned heavily on him, forcing Tommy to fall back onto the couch, and Luke smoothly transitioned to straddling him. Tommy had no way of measuring how long they sat with their cheeks pressed together in continuous nuzzling. It was really Luke's close shave that made the silkiness of skin addicting. Tommy would say it was Luke's fault, really.

Luke's eyes closed, and his arms moved from embracing Tommy to letting his hands slide over his shoulders then down his chest. Tommy saved himself the feeling of flattery as it was clear Luke was obsessed over the softness of the fabric that was caressing his hypersensitive hands.

He moaned as he rubbed the vest with his thumbs and, just as Tommy was about to get jealous of a piece of clothing, Luke moved his hands up, caressing Tommy's neck then going up to his head. Tommy shivered at the wandering fingertips running over his freshly shaved sides, then sank into the top's floppiness.

"Mm, you feel so good," Luke hummed into his ear. "God, you smell good too."

Tommy wouldn't say he blushed at how instantaneous his erection came on from just a few hotly whispered words, but his face did feel a bit hot. Never mind that Luke was actually complimenting himself to some extent. He'd picked a cologne that would "blend with the smell of whiskey and cigarettes," not "work against it."

Tommy licked his bottom lip and placed his hands on Luke's thighs. He'd won a few rugby games with these thighs, Tommy always remembered when he went to praise their sturdiness. Tommy let his hands wander up to his waist, already feeling the heat from Luke's skin before reaching his smooth torso. He may not have been wrestling with mortality or feeling enthralled by every texture he encountered, but he did have the benefit of only being able to think about what was in front of him.

"You're so fucking soft," Tommy murmured. Luke finally sat back and locked eyes with him. His intensity moved Tommy like a puppet, touching Luke like he wanted. Rough Peaky hands scuffed the pristine skin of his chest and those puffy brown nipples, making Luke groan.

"If you love me, you'll take off your clothes," Luke said. Tommy reached for his vest without hesitation.

"So you do love me, then," Luke concluded as if he was making a meeting note.

"Who else?"

Luke smiled to himself haughtily and watched Tommy reveal his chest one button at a time. When Tommy looked up again, he almost jolted at the sight of the enormous grin on Luke's face.

"No one else, okay?"

Tommy sighed and nodded.

"Yeah, okay. Now you." He pinched Luke's side.

"No one else for me, either."

It took a single kiss to remind Tommy that Luke was definitely as high as a kite. His brow furrowed as Luke seemed lost in the sheer sensation of soft lips against soft lips. He was pretty sure he heard Luke murmur "wow" at some point before sliding his tongue into Tommy's mouth. However, each sensation made Luke moan shamelessly, which did nothing but egg on Tommy's bulge.

Luke's hands went back into his hair, massaging Tommy's scalp as he licked Tommy's lips and dove in again. Tommy could honestly say he'd never been kissed that way before. It wasn't unlike being completely devoured. A sharp bite to his lip brought Tommy out of his daze to realize he was bleeding, and Luke lapped it up.

"Not too hard," Tommy tsked, though the warning paired with how Luke's pudgy waist begged to be continuously caressed wasn't too threatening.

"You're too hard!" Luke shot back.

Then, as if his own childish words alerted him to Tommy's state, Luke looked to Tommy's lap, which was fully tented. It wouldn't be long before this turned painful. Perhaps due to muscle memory, Luke immediately moved to get on his knees, but a still sober voice in Tommy's head stopped him.

"I have no doubt you'll think about eating it and then bite it off, so none of that."

Luke pouted and glowered but sat back in his place and reached for Tommy's belt.

"Just wanna feel it anyway."

Tommy had to consider the drug was working him more than he expected. Time moved slowly, yet Tommy felt like he blinked from time to time, and suddenly there was a new scene in front of him.

First, Luke was mesmerized by the temperature and hardness of Tommy's shaft. Meanwhile, Tommy had to regulate his breathing during the steady yet gentle exploration. Luke spit to add lubrication to his play, pulling groans from Tommy, who was watching stars behind his eyelids. Sloppy kisses graced Tommy's neck and shoulders until Tommy came in thick ropes.

Tommy blinked, and he was digging his fingers into Luke's thighs as Luke chanted variations of "you're so pretty, pretty when you cum and pretty when you're mad. Your eyes are so pretty. It's actually kind of scary," repeatedly in his ear. Meanwhile, Luke was still stroking his half-hard shaft while Tommy trembled.

He blinked again, and Luke made the lewdest face Tommy thought he'd ever seen. Tommy pressed their cocks together, a sensation that left Luke's toes curling. Luke wrapped his hand around Tommy's to aid him and spit again, a byproduct of the fact he was practically drooling anyway.

Everything came in crashing waves that lit up Luke's nerve endings and made even the gasping breaths he took feel like sensual touches. His forehead pressed against Tommy's, and his eyes slowly opened to see Tommy watching him possessively.

Luke's lips were parted, and his eyes were glossy. Tommy watched Luke whine from the attention and felt the precum leak from him, adding to the slickness. He looked otherworldly, backlit by the soft lamps in the office and the last of the setting sun peeking through the edges of the blinds. No one else would get to see Luke this way. Tommy swore it. Luke could have anything at that moment, which was great because he was taking everything.

Tommy blinked again, and he was in a whirlwind of cause and effect.

Luke whined, and Tommy's hips bucked at the sound.

Luke leaned in for a kiss, and Tommy's lips parted.

Luke's lips ghosted over Tommy's, his tongue lolled out, joining in the caresses until their tongues were circling each other.

Tommy pushed away from the urge to ask what he was doing and instead let Luke's long, drawn-out moans get him that much harder if it was possible.

Luke leaned in, making Tommy's head tilt back enough for their lips to brush each other in a light, almost kiss. Tommy waited with hooded eyes but felt a warmth on his tongue instead. He opened his eyes to see Luke watching his saliva run from his tongue onto Tommy's.

Tommy's mind went blank, but there's was no room for any more thoughts. Tommy swallowed, and Luke's eyes widened, then clenched shut as he came hard, with Tommy finishing right after. Luke stared at where their fists held their pulsing cocks. He raised his hand, inspecting how their mixed seed glistened before bringing it to his lips. Tommy was happy to note that a single licked was enough for Luke's body to remember it hated the texture of semen, and Luke shivered in disgust before falling forward onto Tommy's shoulder. Like a gentleman, Tommy pulled out his handkerchief and cleaned his hand. He looked down at Luke's relaxed, exhausted face and snorted.

Somehow, still no one else.

Finn walked into the Shelby company offices, spotting Luke and Tommy in the conference room already. Not that Tommy was one to be petty, but Finn expected at least some tension between the two. Instead, he watched through the glass door as the men laughed heartily next to each other. Polly would describe these moments as being something like Tommy before the war. Finn smirked and pushed the door open just as Tommy chuckled, and Luke hid his face behind a folder.

"Finn, thank god! Your brother's bullying me."

"I wouldn't call stating an account of events bullying. You're just embarrassed," Tommy said with an eye roll, though there wasn't an ounce of malice in his words. "That's what you fucking get."

"So it went well?" Finn asked, looking between them.

"After I stopped thinking I was going to implode, it was alright. We got that shepard's pie you left. Slept like the dead until midnight then got home. All are safe and well," Luke reported, finally removing the folder from his face.

"It was incredibly entertaining to watch you eat shepard's pie with your hands. I can't even be mad anymore," Tommy chimed in, chuckling at the glare he received as he lit his cigarette.

"You stayed together then?" Finn asked. Both of the men stopped and looked at him. Luke always had an inkling that Finn had questions about their relationship, though, at the moment, he was just thoroughly enjoying the way they looked like caught teenagers.

"You said to stay put, so," Luke reminded him, then cleared his throat. Finn laughed at his pouting.

"That I did. Well, I just stopped by to say John's secretary brought turnovers to the office. Also, Arthur asked about the package, so I told him to ask you. Bye!" Finn announced before rushing out the door, ignoring Luke's calls for him to come back.

"Doesn't matter. You tossed the rest of those things yesterday when you cleaned up, didn't you," Luke asked Tommy, who'd already moved on to reviewing the day's agenda. Luke was met with a surprising silence. "Didn't you?"

Tommy simply cleared his throat and flipped the page.

"Don't tell me you kept them," Luke gasped. He turned his chair to Tommy, ready to hear the excellent explanation.

"I think, in moderation, it could be... fun." Tommy shrugged. Luke nodded deeply, then leaned in.

"Tommy," he whispered. Tommy leaned in as well, tilting his head as he readied himself. Luke looked between Tommy's eyes with his own excited ones and, in a hushed voice, asked, "Did you let me spit in your mouth yesterday?" Tommy's face burned as he remembered that hazy detail he hoped Luke would forget. "Don't answer that. I also think we can make good use of the rest of them as long as we use 'moderation.'"

"You're annoying."

"Admit it, what we did," Luke's eyes shifted to the door, double-checking that no one was listening, then back to Tommy. "On the couch? Felt pretty fucking spectacular."

"It was good," Tommy said with a nod, making Luke's eyes roll.

"Oh please, it had to be nothing short of really good at least twice because you,"

"Alright! Alright," Tommy stopped him. "I already said I'd do it."

Lydia knocked gently on the door, separating them as she walked in with water.

"Good morning, Miss Lydia," Luke greeted her, making her blush and Tommy glare.

"Hello, Mr. Anderson. Oh, Mr. Shelby, would you like me to open a window? You're quite red."

"No," Tommy huffed, and Luke couldn't help but laugh.

"Actually, Miss Lydia, could you find a Saturday night when Mr. Shelby is free for dinner? It should be the last thing on the calendar that day, so it's okay if it's late in the evening. Just make sure to clear the morning after as well."

"Yes, Sir," she nodded and hurried out the room.

"Is she my secretary or yours?" Tommy asked, not looking up from his paper. Luke looked at him and rested his chin in his hand.

"Did you know I love you even if you don't take your clothes off? Wow, you are red. Are you sure you don't want to crack a window?"

Taglists

Mx Any: @cactisjuice

Mx Tommy: @retromafia

[kithtaehyung]

Last November (M)

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Just like always.

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

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

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

“Don’t worry, I can just—”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I like my singing voice, too.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Did you tell her yet?” 

“No.” 

“Do it. She deserves to know.” 

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

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

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

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

The news had to be something urgent. 

Was Seokjin getting married? 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“So that song is…” 

“Wrong. Yes.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Why did you feel like that was significant? 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What’s he hiding from me?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“But aren’t they yours?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“No. We are not doing that again.” 

“Come on, hyung, it’ll be fun!” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The fluttering in your chest was quickly shooed away. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“—Kook!” 

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

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

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

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

Why wasn’t anyone saying anything? 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Kook [8:33pm]: I’m so sorry 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

With a breath, you finally knocked. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Why?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You didn’t want that. 

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

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

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

“What if I’m not?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“It doesn’t matter.” 

“It does to me.”

“Well, it’s none of your concern.”

“I don’t care if it is or not.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“That must have been hard.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You gulped. “I mean, yeah?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

But what if you were this time? 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Wait.

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

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

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

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

It was you. He was talking about you. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Agony consumed your entire being as you made your decision. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Oh, I’m just lucky.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

This was too hard. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Okay?” 

“We leave at 7 in the morning.” 

“And?” 

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

Silence. 

All you could respond with was silence. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Jinnie.” 

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

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

His eyebrows furrowed, but you pushed on. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Can I kiss you?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It just made you fall for him even more. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Are you still…” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You still have your word?” 

“Carousel, yes.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Just for you,” you affirmed. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You could barely last on your knees as his dick slammed up into you repeatedly. The hand around your airway was tight but only just, his praises in your ear being the real culprit of your stolen breath. Your pussy clenched harshly around his length, and you knew from the tight coil in your body that you were seconds from euphoria. 

Seokjin felt it instantly. “Come, baby.” And as soon as he relinquished your throat did you give in, waves of pleasure coursing through you and a white burn shimmering in your lungs. It seemed endless. Ripple after ripple thrummed through your body, your joints slowly unlocking from their initial freeze. Behind you, Seokjin groaned and sang sweet nothings in your ear, his arms wrapping around your chest in a scorching embrace. 

The high ebbed, but did not completely recede. You knew Jin still needed release, so you kissed his wrist next to your shoulder and whispered, “I want to see you now.”

“Whatever you need.” Seokjin slowly unsheathed himself, and you felt a slight pain. You watched as he positioned his back on the headboard. He knew what you wanted to do. 

You made your way over to him and hovered over his length. Locking your hazy eyes with his dark set, you kissed him lazily as you languidly sank back onto him. Seokjin groaned when you didn’t use your hand as a guide beforehand. And frankly, that turned you on, too.

“You’re so tight still,” he grunted, his hands coming up and grabbing your ass before settling on your hips. 

You rolled your hips before finding a rhythm. “You’re just big,” you mock complained, earning a deep chuckle. 

“Aww. You sound. So. Sad,” he teased, thrusting up into you to punctuate each word. Your mewls were welcome now since he was done with his role. Now he could just sit back and enjoy your show for him. And occasionally torture you. 

You found your rhythm again, rougher with him now with your hands in his dark, sweaty locks. One of your hands dropped onto his chest and raked down his breast, eliciting a higher moan than normal. 

The sound caused heat to pool between your legs again, and you upped the pace. Your thighs burned from the exertion, but you kept yourself distracted by diving into Jin’s neck and nipping in multiple places. His arms left your hips to wrap around your back, and your breath faltered as he took over again. 

Seokjin was close. He was always close when his limbs locked hard into place. His upward thrusts were fast and hard, and you could only moan in his ear and take him in. The coil that released once tonight was tightening again, and you murmured in his ear that you were close. 

Seokjin only needed to kiss you like his life depended on it for you to unravel again. The wave was weaker than last time, but it could still cover mountains. Your head felt light, dancing above the clouds with no intention of coming down. You pushed yourself from his lips, allowing him to see your flushed chest and reddened cheeks. The second orgasm faded and loosened your limbs, but your heart felt completely connected to his, your soul nestled into the comfort of his tender embrace. “I love you,” you sighed, and you immediately felt a huge twitch between your folds.

“Lie down, baby. I’m close.” 

“It’s okay,” you whispered, cradling his cheek. “Come inside me, Jinnie. I wanna feel you.” 

“Shit,” he grunted. His thrusts descended into madness. Your heart rattled at the sight of his dusted red cheeks, sweaty neck, heaving chest. He was the most beautiful man you’d ever seen, and the one you would overturn stars to find should you ever lose him again. 

When he gazed down at your joined sex, you took in the wet strands of hair on his forehead. When he kicked his head back against the headboard to look at you with lidded eyes, you bit your swollen lips. This wonderful man was your lover, your ex, your friend, and now your lover again. Only this time, you truly loved him back. And you wanted to think back to this moment forever. 

Tears sprung into your eyes as he pulled you in for a searing kiss, and his orgasm released into you in spurts. The thrusts he made then were slow and powerful, and your body bobbed with the swells. You kissed him harder than necessary, almost willing to bruise your own lips on his. The longer you held his lips captive, the longer he couldn’t see your sorrow. 

But Seokjin already felt the drops ping his chest. He just let you cry because that’s what you needed. Even when he broke from the kiss, he never said a word. He trailed kisses along your wet cheeks, your sweaty nose, and your glistening forehead. His poignant visage held nothing but stars, and it reminded you of the night you fell in love, crushing your spirit ever more. 

Touch after touch after touch only coaxed more tears from your eyes. It felt never ending as you sat spent in his lap, still on his softening length. Sheer willpower was what caused you to finally speak, your voice hoarse, “We should clean up. You still need to pack and sleep.”

“We should, and I do,” he whispered. He patted your bum. “Can you get up by yourself?” 

You nodded before extracting yourself from his firm thighs, lamenting the fact that human bodies had limits. As you waddled to the bathroom, you stumbled along the way, Seokjin softly chuckled while following you and steadying you when needed. Even when you shot empty glares at him, the smile in his eyes never left. 

The rest of your time spent in his room consisted of silence and kisses. Ever the gentleman, he let you lie down on his bed while he used the other half for the bags to pack. It didn’t take him too long since he was organized from the jump, so when he was done he cleared the bed and joined you under the covers. When you felt a weight on your stomach, you looked down to see your camera dumped on the comforter. 

Seokjin wrapped a strong arm behind your neck. “What do you call naked pictures taken with a Polaroid?” 

“Oh, no.” You turned your head to face him. “What?” 

“Just pictures. But that’s old nudes.” 

You punished him by attacking his sides instantly, yanking a batch of honky laughs from him. Knowing your own weaknesses still, he unleashed his own parry, and it took a minute for the both of you to settle in a draw. 

“Don’t tell me the only reason you brought this into the bed was to tell that horrid joke,” you chuckled, your head back to resting in your pillow. 

“Nope. I wanna take one of us.” 

After getting past all seven of your objections and excuses, Seokjin whittled your walls down and got you to agree. The end product existed on the last film in your Polaroid: a crooked snapshot of him kissing your cheek as you smiled with creased eyes, sheets held against your chest. And he conceded in letting you keep it after watching you clutch it lovingly in your fingers. 

You immediately sought comfort in his embrace after setting the photo next to your phone on the nightstand, and he stole multiple kisses from you way after your eyes couldn’t stay open any longer. 

“Get some sleep, my love,” Seokjin whispered. 

And despite your sound of protest, you were pulled into the abyss of sleep right as you felt pillowy lips caress your forehead.

Rin-Rin [6:40am]: You’re lucky I love you. I packed your stuff and left out an outfit for you when you come down. Just don’t be late or I’ll drag you back down myself :)))

Jiminie [6:45am]: RISE N SHINE LOVEBIRDS

Rin-Rin [6:46am]: Oh, yeah, I may or may not have texted Jimin. 

Jiminie [6:46am]: ABOUT TIME

Jiminie [6:46am]: !!!

Tae [6:47am]: jimins scream woke me up. i can only assume that means ill get to be an uncle soon. dont let me down i want this(: 

Joonie [6:48am]: Aaaaaaaaaa !!!

Jiminie [6:48am]: And I know you want to yell at me for yesterday so I am ready for that whenever you are

Kook [6:50am]: <3 

You smiled at your texts before locking your phone. Seokjin was already up and about, making sure everything was packed and accounted for. When he saw you stirring, he came over and surprised you with a kiss so deep that it revitalized your sagging emotional state. “Morning,” you chuckled, swinging your sore legs out of the sheets and wincing at the cold. “I need to head back down.”

“Yeah, Rin already sent the first round of threats. I’ll see you at the car, okay?” 

You pecked him on the cheek after you slipped on your boots and grabbed your Polaroid.  Stepping into the hallway, you kept reminding yourself to not completely lose it yet. There was still a whole car ride you got to have with him, and you were determined to slow down time however you could. 

Your phone buzzed again, and you assumed Yoongi and Hoseok were just now waking up and getting the gossip. Checking your notifications only validated your guess.

Hobi [6:52am]: AHHHHH HAPPY FOR U~!!!

Hobi [6:52am]: ASLSKDJSKDHSKDJ

Yoongi [6:53am]: I’ll make sure to drag him back sometimes. It’s ludicrous to say that we’d never see him again. Drama queen. Anyways, happy for you. If you need anything, let me know. 

Hobi [6:53am]: we’ll see seokjinnie again love. and if u miss him a lot then we can make sure you see him. im sure he’ll be missing u too

How you were able to win the friend lottery and meet these people, you had no clue. But you weren’t going to ever question the fact. All you would do was embrace your blessings and love them. 

The car ride to the airport was long, but still much too short for your liking. Between the loving gazes you directed at Seokjin as he sang along to Taehyung’s music, the looks full of mirth Jimin gave the both of you from the backseat, and the laughter of both Rin and Taehyung, you were the happiest you’ve felt in a very long time. 

Throughout the ride, you got the feeling that you were going to be okay. Seokjin was starting an insane adventure, but you were also going to be there every step of the way. Not just on the polaroid he decided to stash in his bag, but in his heart and on his mind like Namjoon said around the fire. 

There were still plenty of ways to see each other and communicate. And since he technically didn’t start until next summer, that gave you plenty of time to see him before then. The many possibilities made you question your hesitation in the first place. 

But none of that diminished how much of a struggle it was still going to be. 

When the car rolled to a stop in the airport parking lot, your chest constricted. When everyone got their bags out of the cars and started the trek to the shuttles, your hands shook on your straps. As soon as everyone started saying their byes and separating to check into their airlines, you found it hard to breathe. 

But a tender hand brushed through your hair, and plush lips connected with your forehead. In an instant, you felt okay again. 

Seokjin’s calm voice slipped over your features. “Your flight leaves in two hours, right?” When you nodded, he continued, “Okay. Come shop with me before I have to go to my gate!” 

You tried your best to keep a positive attitude while you watched Jin peruse different airport stores. When he would hold stuff up for you to approve, you would smile or dramatically turn things down. Even the cute neck pillow he really wanted got the dreaded rejection. 

But that was only so you could pay for it when he wasn’t looking and surprise him. The huge laugh and grin you got in return was worth the trouble. 

When it was time for Seokjin to head to his gate, you brought him in for a crushing hug. “Let me know when you land,” you demanded. 

“Of course, honey,” he said through a smile. 

“‘Honey,’ now?” You regarded him with a raised eyebrow. “You have so many nicknames for me. I can’t keep up. Do you have a favorite you could stick with?” 

Seokjin rested his chin on your head. “Ah, I have a favorite. But it’s not true yet, so I shouldn’t use it.” 

A fire ignited in your heart, the flames warming you from the inside. “And which one is that?” 

“Would you look at the time!” Jin’s body heat left you in a rush as he stepped away, and your instinctual pout made him laugh outright. He cupped your chin for a kiss that rocked your whole being before pulling away. His eyes held galaxies in them when he stared into yours. “Guess you’ll have to wait for the answer to that one.” 

“You’re a jerk, Jinnie,” you huffed, but you kissed him again. “You’re lucky I love you.” 

“I really am. And I love you,” he responded. His hand came down to squeeze yours before he had to part. “I’ll let you know when I make it. Call me when you get home, okay?” 

“Okay,” you replied, and you watched his long strides with a heavy heart and a hopeful mind. 

As you told yourself again and again, you were going to be okay. It was going to be tough, it was going to be absolutely painful. But as long as you decided to keep loving each other, everything would work out. 

You knew better than anyone that love was a choice. And for Seokjin, you would choose it a thousand times over. 

And besides, the current state of technology was on your side. The possibilities of communication were too endless for you to dwell on the distance. Were there going to be days in which you only received one text? Most likely. Were there going to be weeks where you weren’t going to hear much from Seokjin at all? Definitely. But this time, unlike last time, you welcomed every bit of it. Your heart built a bridge to his that defied any sense of physical distance. On opposite sides, both of you were achieving success in your own ways. In the end, you would always come back to each other to celebrate together. Even though this was the last November trip you had with Seokjin, it was the beginning of many, many wonderful years to come.

It was later, while you were waiting for your own flight to finish boarding, that a message was sent to your phone. 

Jinnie [12:04pm]: Attachment: 1 Image

You couldn’t help but grin. As you gazed lovingly at the picture of Seokjin smiling next to your polaroid, another one came in before you could respond.

Jinnie [12:05pm]: Until you’re really next to me, this will have to do. Don’t get too jealous! 

You laughed to yourself, rolling your eyes while setting the image as your wallpaper. Locking your phone, you tapped the glass to see your screen light up, observing the picture again.

On a plane heading to another city entirely, Seokjin was doing the exact same thing. Except in his case, he was smiling down at a girl caught in mid-laughter, body aglow from the bright yellow lights of a spinning carousel behind her. 

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a/n: whewww so if you made it to the end, hi! i seriously enjoyed writing this and i learned so much. it’s my first fic and first huge one-shot, so if you have any comments/concerns/constructive feedback, please let me know! my ask box is always open, too. lastly, here is my m.list if you want to browse! 🌨🌨🌨 ++ feedback box (added nov. 25th, 2021): ⇥ of course, any reblogs/comments/messages are appreciated! ⇥ for the ones that aren’t okay with reblogging with a review, commenting on this, or sending a message, i went ahead and made another anonymous form where you can send in what you think! ⇥ no emails collected, no need to put in a username. it’s literally just a feedback dropbox :D ⇥ here!   ++ ⇥ masterlist 

[bounce-a-coin-off-your-witcher]

you’ll never make me leave

I was feeling very whumpy after my nasty day at work, so here’s Jaskier being accidentally poisoned by, nursed back to health by, and confessed to by his idiot Witcher.

title from MCR’s “Thank You for the Venom”

thank you to @thecomfortofoldstorries for helping me out and giving me the good ideas (and also here’s some Julek content for ya)

tw: poisoning, Jaskier whump, angsty-ish but mostly just an excuse for Geralt to be real fuckin’ soft w/the bard

---

First Jaskier’s quiet fireside singing and playing slowed to a stop, his fingers slipping clumsily against Sexy’s well-tuned strings in a worrying kind of way. Geralt watched in silent confusion as Jaskier set his lute in its case and gently closed the lid. The bard’s usually bright blue eyes went glassy and glazed over. Any remaining focus in Jaskier’s gaze disappeared as he stared off at some distant point, pupils wide and unmoving. He sat like that for one minute, then two, totally unblinking. 

The worst sign of trouble came last, when the bard collapsed suddenly forward and began to shake uncontrollably atop his spread bedroll like a fish out of water. Geralt rushed to his side and dropped to his knees in the dirt, pinning Jaskier’s shoulders down so that he could assess the situation with his enhanced abilities. Already, he knew, this was very bad. 

The bard’s skin was white-hot to the touch, even through the material of his thick autumnal chemise; dangerously feverish for a delicate human like Jaskier. The Witcher tamped down his panic and tried to think as rationally as possible. It wouldn’t do Jaskier any good if he lost control now. The veins in the bard’s neck were pulsing with an odd violet tint and Geralt realized with a start that the thing ailing Jaskier was his fault entirely. 

The Witcher had only vaguely remembered the mushrooms from some book in Vesemir’s personal library. He thought they were safe for human consumption and that the poisonous hallucinogenic compounds would only affect Witchers like himself. As he knelt between Jaskier and the fire he had the sudden, gut-wrenching realization that he’d probably gotten it backwards, and that he was the one who would be unaffected by ingesting them. He couldn’t test it now, though, because he needed to tend to his sick companion.  

Jaskier arched up against Geralt’s restraining hands, his slender hips and surprisingly strong shoulders twisting in some kind of panicked attempt to relieve the pain. His spine bowed and buckled in oddly timed waves as the toxins from the fungus raced through his bloodstream and pricked at his nervous system. Guilt and terror twisted in Geralt’s stomach like twin knives and he leaned down to press an apologetic kiss to the bard’s sweat-soaked brow. 

The contact was brief and burning and the Witcher’s slow-beating heart caught suddenly in his throat. 

“Geralt!” Jaskier cried out, arms reaching and eyes searching blindly as if the Witcher wasn’t leaning over him. Wasn’t holding him tightly to keep him from getting hurt in his own frenzy. The bard released a low, shuddering moan followed by a harsh sob, begging: “Don’t leave me behind, please! I swear, Geralt, I can keep up! I can! I promise! Please!”

The Witcher had never felt such acute emotions so intensely before. The love he felt for Jaskier ached and stabbed and rippled out through him. The bard was afraid that Geralt wanted to leave him behind, which meant that somehow, in some way, the Witcher had failed to make his companion feel wanted or welcome. The truth was, the Path didn’t feel right when Jaskier was away.

“Julek,” the Witcher tried to sound as soothing as possible with his gravel-rough voice. He flinched when he heard himself and lowered his tone to a whisper, “Jaskier, I’m here. I’m not leaving you. I’ll take care of you; I’m so sorry.”

“Please,” the bard sobbed, wriggling violently in an effort to escape, “Please, no! Ger-a-a-alt! Come back!”

The Witcher’s heart cracked wide open in his chest when he heard the anguish in Jaskier’s voice. 

“Julek,” he breathed. He brushed the bard’s damp fringe away from his forehead and placed the back of one cool hand against heated skin. “I will keep you safe until you’re well again, sweet Julek, and then I’ll prove that I’m still worth all the time and effort and love you pour into me.”

“Hnn,” came Jaskier’s high whine in lieu of reply. “Don’t go.”

“I won’t,” Geralt asserted. “I swear I won’t.”

He wouldn’t. He would die here if he had to, curled around the bard, keeping him warm on the side that the fire didn’t reach in an effort to sweat the poison out faster. He would die protecting and caring for the one person who’d always cared for and protected him. In ways Geralt was only just beginning to properly fathom. 

Eventually, after much tossing and turning, Jaskier fell into a fitful but deep sleep.

---

Geralt stayed at his side all through the night, rotating which parts of him were facing the warmth of the fire and regulating his body temperature to the best of his ability. Jaskier released sad moans and pained whimpers every once and awhile, but what frightened the Witcher most were the snippets of sleep-talk,

“I swear I can be good,” he would whisper, sounding panicked. “I promise I’ll stay far away. I won’t touch you or Roach. I won’t. I just...”

Geralt’s heart clenched in his chest. Eventually he replied, trying to ease the bard from whatever hallucinogen-induced nightmare was plaguing him. “You just what, Julek?”

“I just want to be able to be near you.”

“Why?”

A flush lit up Jaskier’s pale cheeks, staining them violet with his tainted blood. “I- don’t make me say it, Geralt. You’ll run off again and I’ll be all alone. Always alone.”

“Say it, Jaskier. You’ll never make me leave.”

A sigh. Two blue eyes opened and met Geralt’s with a semblance of awareness and understanding: “I love you, Geralt.”

The Witcher leaned forward and pressed a soft, urgent kiss to Jaskier’s overheated forehead. “I love you, too, Julek. Now rest for me. Get better.”

The struggling stopped, then, and Jaskier sank into a deep and peaceful slumber.

---

“I had a horrible dream,” Jaskier rasped, waking Geralt from his slumber. “That you’d left me at some healer’s back down the road and continued on with out me. I don’t know why I would have such a horrible dream, but I’m glad it’s over and that I’m awake.”

“I love you,” Geralt declared. The bard rolled over in his arms and stared up, shocked. 

“Come again, oh great and broody Witcher of my heart?”

“I love you, Julek.”

“Oh, Geralt!” A pair of warm lips were suddenly pressed against the Witcher’s. Geralt pulled back and glanced away, biting his lip anxiously. Jaskier’s brows furrowed cutely. “What’s wrong?”

“It’s my fault you got so sick in the first place and had that horrible dream,” Geralt explained. “I’m so sorry for hurting you like that. I should have paid better attention.”

“You’re forgiven,” Jaskier replied. He burrowed closer to Geralt’s chest and pressed a kiss to his Witcher’s clavicle. “But only if you hold me a little longer. I like this.”

“Hmm,” Geralt rumbled, finally content. “Me too.”

[cloverque]

departure (haiba lev)

出发 (灰羽 リエーフ)

a departure doesn’t always guarantee a return

4128 words

post time skip! model lev, fiances, angst, concept of waiting, alt ending (w/ closure)

a (reuploaded) req for a certain lev lover <3

Haiba Lev wasn’t the most level headed person. He was blunt, foolish, assertive, and sometimes, a simpleton. And yet, despite his innumerable flaws, you loved him.

You adored the discordant, entwined, looping threads that made up for who he was, his strengths and weaknesses, every fibre of his being. Furthermore, your love was unyielding; a delicate yet persistent wild flower, sprung from the cracks in concrete.

Your love for the male stemmed from your starting days in high school. It was a random encounter, in which he bumped into you in a hallway, and then somehow, you began fawning over the half Russian.

Inconspicuously, you would watch him from afar: walking by the gym to sneak glances, matching up your schedule with the volleyball club’s, just to catch glimpses of him during their laps around the school.

You were fascinated with the long limbed teen’s energy and presence on the court. He was handsome too, his facial and body structure flawlessly sculpted by God himself to be the epitome of masculinity.

Your puppy love and admiration for him motivated you to travel far and wide to watch his volleyball matches, with hopes that maybe one day, Lev would notice you.

Lev wasn’t the brightest with a few things, with consciousness of his surroundings topping his list. Your encounter with him had slipped his mind, since it meant only so little, and he never realised you were in the same cohort, for pete’s sake.

If it weren’t for Kenma, who had pointed you out among the spectators, he wouldn’t have realised you always watched their matches. So he decided to approach you after one, and asked if you were from Nekoma High. You were momentarily stunned, then gave him a radiant smile, one so bright he would never forget.

After that, the two of you hit it off effortlessly. Within a few months, your freshly sprouted friendship with Lev blossomed into something more. Years passed, both of you graduated, and the two of you were still going strong, happily dating. The now esteemed model and you even began contemplating on a larger milestone, one which would change both of your lives forever.

That is, until Lev received an ominous phone call that presaged the end of your current chapter.

It happened too quickly to say for sure what was going on. He had told you the night before, as he held you in his arms, that he would be gone for a while. That he needed to attend to some personal matters back at home.

Lev’s tone was a little too quiet when he broke the news. “I… gotta leave for a while, (y/n).“ He was holding you close, arms draped around your waist and legs tangled with yours.

You stopped circling your finger around his bicep to glance up at him. Studying the distant look in his green orbs, you raised your brows. “Okay, where to?”

“Russia. My grandma wants me to return immediately.” Lev’s attention shifted from the ceiling to your curious gaze. His warm, minty breath fanned your face as he exhaled. “I think I’ll take a while.”

“Oh…” You rest your cheek on his chest, lashes fluttering close as you murmured. “I’ll miss you, but I can wait. Just don’t keep me waiting for long, alright?”

“Mhmm, okay.” Smiling tenderly, Lev peppered your skin with kisses, making you giggle. You slowly opened your eyes to take in the way the moonlight from the balcony glossed over his flawless, pale skin.

Lev’s fingers hovered over the silver band on your ring finger, lingering there before taking your hand in his. His own matching ring clinked against yours softly when you laced your fingers with his, your warm palms heating up his cold ones as you dozed off, flushed against his chest.

When morning came, he was gone. You had failed to bid him goodbye as Lev‘s egression was committed silently. The days passed like any other, and you would text him once in a while to check up on him. However, you never received a response. Not on SMS. Not on social media. Nowhere.

Days trickled to weeks, months, and by the third one, you were too overwhelmed with paranoia. After deep recollection, you realised he never told you when he would return. Surely, his departure meant a return, right?

You had asked the Nekoma volleyball club alumni and his friends of his whereabouts, and they all told you the same thing: they didn’t know. Desperate, you attempted to contact his sister Alisa, but to no avail. Both Haiba siblings were uncontactable, and the calls always went to voicemail.

Over the days, your fear and anxiety manifested into dark rings, rimming your puffy eyelids. Life went on whilst your heart and mind ran rampant, and eventually, you stopped appearing at work.

Not a day went by without you thinking of him. Your fiancé plagued your mind and heart 24/7, and it was impossible to stop thinking about him.

Where is he? When will he return? What’s taking him so long? Why is he not home yet? Has he forgotten about me?

Did Lev forget that I’m still waiting for him?

…

The front door to your shared apartment creaked slowly, and a raven haired man in a dark suit shuffled in. He closed the door slowly, his pupils dilating to compensate for the lack of light entering the apartment. The once bright green plants lining the balcony were drooping in their eternal shade, signifying that the curtain had not been drawn in days.

The man slipped off his shoes and socks, taking notice of the unworn, white slippers by the front door, then shuffled in. You glanced up from the blankets when you heard the soft padding of feet.

Your heart threatened to leap out of your chest as your eyes grew wide with anticipation. “Lev?” You croaked, hauling yourself to a sitting position. “Is that you?”

The door slowly creaked open to reveal your colleague and good friend, Kuroo Tetsurō. Your smile faded away, and your lips pressed into a thin line.

“Sorry I’m not who you think I am.” The male stood by the now open doorway, rubbing the back of his head sheepishly.

Ever since you stopped showing up at work, Kuroo would check up on you every weekend, and sometimes the posse would tag along too. The ex-captain had your apartment’s spare key, thanks to Lev, who randomly picked the holder during your home warming party.

You glanced down at the crumpled bed sheets as he walked into the dusty bedroom. Kuroo drew open the curtains leisurely, filling the room with a dim, blue light whilst multi coloured lights from the skyscrapers across the balcony twinkled with animosity. Specks of dust scattered in the air, latching onto the nearby furniture while some drifted aimlessly. The end of the bed dipped as he sat down, and you looked up to find him scrutinising you with a furrowed frown.

“Have you been eating well?” His eyes trailed over your sunken cheeks and jaundiced skin. Your face was devoid of your usual, radiant glow.

You glanced away from his piercing amber eyes. The eyes in the photos atop the nightstand bore holes into your soul as you rasped, “Why are you here? If it’s about work, I already told you that I asked my section manager to let me work from home–“

“(y/n), that’s not why I’m here.” Kuroo interrupted with a huff. Cloth rustled as he fished his phone out of his jacket’s inner pocket. With a few soft taps, he turned to you, and showed you his screen. You squinted your eyes and unconsciously leaned closer to read the blurry, digital print.

“SUPERMODELS HAIBA LEV AND RUSSIAN ACTRESS KHRISTINA SNOW POTTED LEAVING LUXURIOUS HOTEL TOGETHER“

Your eyes threatened to pop out of their sockets as you absorbed the image below the title. It was indeed your fiancé, you could recognise his broad shoulders and otherworldly jawline a mile away.

Dressed in a crisp suit, Lev’s arm was linked with a dainty woman, whose diamond necklace scintillated under the harsh glare of camera lights. The pencil skirt clinging to her wide hips had a scandalously long slit that stopped at her upper thigh, exposing her red lacey panties by a hair length.

Both of them had sunglasses on, but only the woman had a gleeful expression, while Lev’s lips were pressed together tightly. Just like the title had stated, they seemed to be walking away from an edifice constructed of solely glass panels, and you instantly recognised it. It was a renowned, five star hotel. In Japan.

You were too stunned to say anything. Even your mind, which had been incessantly filled with nothing but your lover, was now blank. The information overload was overwhelming.

This is all too much.

Suddenly, Kuroo withdrew his phone, pulling you back to reality with it. “So, I’m guessing you didn’t know?” He raised a dark brow as he pocketed his electronic device. “The article’s from some lowly paparazzi, so I doubt anything’s true… But it’s blowing up on Twitter.”

Your eyes flickered from your trembling hands to the bed sheets as you began quietly. “I… I thought he left for Russia…” Gripping the covers on your lap, your eyes silently brimmed with tears as you continued shakily, “I don’t know what’s going on anymore. I’m so confused…”

Kuroo‘s gaze never left you as you began shaking uncontrollably. He knew that you were desperately fighting back your tears. It was something you did often back in high school: you would try not to cry in front of the team when they won a match, despite your voice breaks and your glassy eyes. It was something the boys found endearing, especially Lev.

The raventte cursed inwardly at his junior’s stupidity. How could he make such a lovely girl like you cry? Wordlessly, the male shifted closer and pulled you into his chest, surprising you but you didn’t retreat.

Kuroo’s gesture was nothing but friendly, after all. He patted your back reassuringly, and your bottom lip trembled as you clung onto his shirt.

Pitter patter.

Your tears fell like torrents, gushing endlessly as you buried your face into his chest. Gripping tightly onto his dress shirt, you cried into the fabric, wailing the pent up emotions you had kept at bay the past few months. You wept like tomorrow would never come.

…

A few days had passed and you finally decided to confront Lev. Seeing how he wouldn’t respond to your messengers, you decided to hunt him down and talk to him face to face. It was easy to track him down, thanks to the ‘lowly paparazzi’ website, which constantly updated his whereabouts. For once, you were grateful for his overbearing fans.

To be fair, you felt a little bad about his own privacy, but you were also too engulfed in a mixture of confusion, jealousy and infuriation to sympathise with him.

You had everything planned out, what to say and retort, and you had to remind yourself that as much as he deserved to be heard out, you also had a right to be upset with him. Especially after the emotional and mental torment he intentionally (or unintentionally) subjected you to.

But it was impossible to deny that you had hoped that he had a good explanation for everything. You prayed fervently that he would return to your arms, like he always did. Memories of past, better days solely stabilised you during this emotional period.

When the weekend arrived, you threw on a your coat and hopped into your car and drove off. Apparently, Lev and Khristina, were dining at a high class café, located in the fancier suburbs of Tokyo. When you reached there, you parked your car by the sidewalk and sauntered in, ignoring the valet who glanced at you then at your vehicle.

Honestly, you never thought you would see the day when you would resort to stalking your fiancé, just to have a talk with him. But this was no ordinary talk, and the half blood knew when he saw you walk into the café.

You were fuming, brows scrunched up with the angriest expression he had ever seen in his life. Lev jumped up in his seat, like he had seen the ghost of Christmas past, and quickly excused himself.

As he shuffled towards the entrance, he met you halfway and tugged you outside by the wrist. His strides were quick, and he hissed when you dug your fingernails into his hand in defiance.

“Let me go!” You snapped fiercely, like a tigress baring its jaws at its adversary. He released you from his hold when he reached his destination: the back alleys of the shops.

The silver haired man didn’t back away. He was looking at you with shock, hurt and something else. Was it fear, nervousness? You couldn’t tell. You were too frustrated with him.

“(y/n)… I can explain–“ He began, a hand outstretched but you cut him off.

“I told you I‘d wait, didn’t I?” You glared up at him with narrowed eyes. His aghast expression wedged the knife deeper in your heart as you inhaled. “You… You said you had to leave. And I believed you! But four months passed and you didn’t bother to contact me. Not even once…”

Lev ran a hand through his now disheveled hair, which was pushed back until now. “Please, let me explain. I had my reasons, I swear.”

You realised the engagement ring on his finger was nowhere to be seen. Your lover opened his mouth to explain when you deadpanned.

“Where’s your ring?”

Lev’s eyes widened, from fright or concern, you weren’t sure. His usually bright, green orbs would he glowing with love whenever he gazed at you, but not today.

“(y/n), I–“

“Love, who’s that?” Came a sweet, enchanting voice at the start of the alley. It was Khathrina, a long legged lady with platinum blonde hair that cascaded down her back in voluminous waves.

She blinked her thick, wispy lashes at you curiously, and you clenched your jaw in retaliation. Glancing at Lev, you hoped that he would put her in her place. Anything along the lines of ‘she’s my girlfriend’ or ‘fiancé’ would have suffice, but no. It was a far fetched dream.

“No one, my dear.” Came Lev’s response, and he walked past you, bumping shoulders into you in the process. You gasped quietly when he cast you a cold, once over behind his broad shoulders.

He had looked at you as if the two of you had never met before. It burned a hole in your stomach, and you were too stunned to react. Frozen in your spot, your facade crumbled with every step he took, further away from you and to someone else.

When he reached the woman’s side, the duo linked arms and departed without another word.

…

You fumbled with your keys for the hundredth time. It took you a whole five minutes to enter your apartment, and when you did, you slammed the door shut behind you and slumped to the floor.

What on earth was that? How could he do that to me? How is that the same boy I fell in love with?

You had driven over to confront Lev, but in the end all you got was a deeper scar. Everything made no sense, and your mind throbbed with confusion and fatigue.

Everything became blurry as tears overwhelmed your vision, and you tugged at your shirt, at the thorn embedded in your heart. It was so close yet so far and out of reach. Drawing your knees to your chest, you cried your heart out once again.

Moments passed with you laying at the entrance, gazing at the unworn white slippers speckled with dust.

…

Like before, days spun into weeks, months, and even a year. Eventually, you deserted your shared apartment and rented a place, one far away from your previous home. You had only taken your clothes and necessities, leaving behind the photo frames and everything else as everything reminded you of him.

It would be a lie to claim that you didn’t miss him, but you had partially given up when the news stated that supermodels Lev and Khathrina were now married.

It made no sense, really. Perhaps this was all a bad dream, you reasoned, fiddling with the silver band around your ring. Maybe you were in a coma, and this was all a lengthy nightmare that you would soon wake up from.

Yes, when you wake up, your fiancé would be next to you, lying in bed, chest rising in steady rhythms whilst the morning sun shines on his handsome face. Haiba would turn around to greet you good morning through half lidded eyes, and he would tuck your hair behind your ears with a cheeky, yet gentle smile.

There’s no way any of this is real…! We’ve come so far, and he loves me more than anyone can imagine.

But as time passed, you began to realise that, perhaps Haiba Lev had departed long ago.

(ALT. END)　　　　　　　　

You fumbled with your keys for the hundredth time. It took you a whole five minutes to enter your apartment, and when you did, you slammed the door shut behind you and slumped to the floor.

What on earth was that? How could he do that to me? How is that the same boy I fell in love with back then?

You had driven over to confront Lev, but in the end all you got was a deeper scar. Everything made no sense, and your mind throbbed with confusion and fatigue.

Everything became blurry as tears overwhelmed your vision, and you tugged at your shirt, at the thorn embedded in your heart. It was so close yet so far and out of reach. Drawing your knees to your chest, you cried your heart out once again.

Out of nowhere, your phone began vibrating.

Sniffling, you fished it out of your coat and accepted the call blindly. “H-Hello?” You stuttered, rubbing away your tears with the back of your hand.

“It’s me, (y/n).” The familiar warm, low voice of Lev’s filled the silent room. Your eyes grew wide in shock, and you glanced at the caller ID to realise it wasn’t his usual phone number. “I don’t have much time, I’ll be gone by tomorrow, love.”

“Tomorrow? What?” You parroted, albeit dumbly as you raked your foggy mind for clarity.

You could almost imagine the frown on your boyfriend’s face when he blabbered. “Are you crying? I mean, were you…?” His voice trailed off, and you quickly blurted out that you weren’t.

A soft chuckle graced your ears and you felt the frustration and sadness from before ebb away. Leaning against the door, you listened attentively as he directed you to a location where he had agreed to rendezvoused. No sooner had he ended the call did you fly out of the apartment.

When you reached the park, you realised it was already midnight. You waited by a willow tree he had mentioned to you, and within a few minutes, he showed up.

You had lost all your fight and gave in to temptation. Throwing your arms around Lev, you held him in a tight embrace as you buried your face into his neck. Grinning widely, the ‘skyscrapper’ wrapped his arms around your back and rest his head atop yours, humming softly.

“I missed you, (y/n).” He had whispered softly, as if he was afraid that you would disappear any moment. “I’m always thinking of you, your smile, your smell…”

Shamelessly, he pressed his face against your head and inhaled it greedily. You giggled at the warm air tickling your scalp then looked up at him with glossy, doe eyes. “I missed you too. More than you can imagine.”

“Hey, I’m here now,” and Lev’s smile began to fade as he set you down onto your feet. Taking your hand, he guided you to sit under the beautiful willow tree. “I promised I’d tell you everything, and I will.”

As the moon waned in the night sky, you listened intently as the silver haired man explained to you what had happened the past few months. He went into detail that he had received a call from his tragically ill grandmother, that she had requested for him and his sister to return to Russia to see them one last time.

And being the filial grandson he was, he accompanied Alisa back to Russia. But upon their arrival, he realised that she was perfectly fine! Her real motive was to introduce him to a fair maiden, whom she had taken a liking to, and so she did. The girl just so happened to be another model, and one of pure Russian descent.

Lev explained animatedly how upset the old lady was when he told her that he was already engaged.

Your lover raised his ring finger to show you his gleaming band, and you almost teared up at the sight. He continued with a sigh, shaking his head as he relayed that she wanted Lev to give the girl a chance.

And in the end, he was forced to be engaged to her temporarily, until the octogenarian passed on.

So for now, they were spending some time in Japan, as the girl was determined to sightsee with her short-term fiancé. But eventually they would return to Russia, so that they could spend time together with his grandma.

It was, without a doubt, a peculiar situation. But a huge burden had been lifted off your shoulders, now that you knew why they were involved for a while.

“At first I didn’t contact you because I was unsure of myself. What to say, and to think…” He took your hand in his, and raised his head, green orbs gleaming with guilt.

He was threading carefully, something he hardly did, and your heart swelled. “But then it slowly turned into something bigger than that, and I feared that you would leave me because of this mess.

“I know what I did was awful and I don’t deserve your forgiveness, but I hope you know how much I love you and that I think about you every single day.” Closing his eyes, he brought your hand to his lips to kiss your knuckles tenderly. When he reopened them, he gave you a dejected, lopsided smile. “I always have.”

“Then why did you act like you didn’t know me earlier?” You dipped your head, sideways. “You know, in front of her?”

“I had to put on an act, just to please my granny… I didn’t mean to hurt you,” He squeezed your hand, “This is only temporary. Once it’s over, I’ll return to Japan as soon as possible.”

You swallowed the forming lump in your throat. He was about to depart again, the man you had loved for a decade.

“Promise me you’ll come back. Back to me.” Placing a hand atop his, you locked eyes with him, “Please.”

He brushed back the stray strands of hair to glimpse at your sparkling irises. Lev’s heart clenched at the eyebags under your beautiful orbs, and he leaned forward to press his forehead against yours.

“I promise.”

The willow branches hid two of you from the world as the two of you conversed for hours, catching up on everything that had happened. You spent the rest of the night holding each other in the secluded park, fingers entwined silently.

…

Lev departed for Russia once again when the sun rose. You had bidded him goodbye tearfully, knowing you wouldn’t be able to speak to him in, possibly, a very long time. Nevertheless, you believed in the promise the two of you had made, and that kept you going.

It was still a little sad to wake up every morning without him next to you. Sometimes, you would even mistake a morning zephyr for his breath against your skin. Watching your favourite drama series alone without his ignorant comments and boisterous laughter pained you with a smile. But despite the lonely moments, you pushed forward.

Haiba Lev wasn’t the most level headed person. He was blunt, foolish, assertive, and sometimes, a simpleton. And yet, despite his innumerable flaws, you loved him.

You adored the discordant, entwined, looping threads that made up for who he was, his strengths and weaknesses, every fibre of his being. Furthermore, your love was unyielding; a delicate yet persistent wild flower, sprung from the cracks in concrete.

And you knew that one day, he would return. After all, his departure was not permanent.　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　

　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　fin.

[aitarose]

ROSES | ZUKO

PAIRING: Zuko x Reader x Azula [fem]

PLOT: Zuko’s main focus was always Azula’s health, that was until he reconciled with the girl behind all of her improvement—from then on, all he saw was Y/N. companion piece to thorns 

WARNINGS: angst, fluff, mutual pining, unrequited love (azula)

WORD COUNT: 5.1k

A/N: this connects to the events that occur in thorns. this piece can be read as a standalone, but thorns gives more detail to the reader’s feelings and struggles with azula

ALT. END: Blossoms | AZULA’S POV: Thorns

MY MASTERLIST

orange · roses : a symbol of love in the sense of enthusiasm and passion. bright colors denote life, energy, passion, and excitement—whilst softer hues speak of sincerity and gratitude.

Year three, day twelve.

Zuko groaned, facepalming as he listened to the pattering footsteps of his advisors leaving the throne room. His shoulders dropped, the formal demeanor he usually wore dissolving almost immediately.

Meetings with his advisors were far from his favorite of the Fire Lord duties, but they were necessary to reassure the people that he was doing right by them. Their trust and support was what held the dignity of his rule in balance.

This meeting in particular had gone on for far too long. His advisors were always able to drone on about his least favorite topic, the topic of Azula’s mental state of health.

His sister had been in recovery for a little over three years now, keeping her promise to him that she would learn to be better. Azula’s goal was to understand compassion and honor—and maybe even love.

Zuko had been taken back by the idea at first, Azula having brought it up during her time in the Fire Nation’s most secure prison cell. He didn’t think she was capable of knowing guilt, but happily obliged to her wishes.

He and his advisor’s had determined that she’d be given a total of five years to begin her rehabilitation. Five years to prove to his nation that she was no longer the monster that they knew her as.

It’d been going fairly well as of yet, only a few tantrums and outbursts here and there, but overall well. Azula’s progress was undeniable, she had finally begun to leave her demons in the past.

As he entered the kitchens which were empty of any royal staff members, Zuko heaved a deep sigh. It seemed as if there was very little time that he was able to have to himself these days, constantly being bombarded with his duties.

He felt like his mind was in chaos, millions of ideas and plans storming in his head like a hurricane. The storm brewing beneath his facade was overwhelming. His only wish was for a simple breath of air.

While Zuko sat in silence, leaning against the large counter with his head held in his hands, his ears perked up to the sound of the door opening.

Without bothering to look up, he waved his hand in admission, not interested in whatever servant had come to fetch their leader. “Not now,” he called out, “the Fire Lord is out of service for the day.”

Whoever had accompanied him began giggling, their voice ringing in Zuko’s ears like the melody of a choir. His head shot up, knowing full well that it was no servant interrupting his time alone.

“Y/N!” He smoothed out his wrinkled robes, fixing his hair in a hurry as she gracefully stepped into the room—gracefully meaning that she ran into a pile of pots and pans before tripping over her own feet.

Zuko rushed over to help her stand, taking one hand in his while the other supported the rest of her body. This wasn’t uncommon, Y/N had a tendency to make a mess wherever she went, unintentionally of course.

She’d been working in the palace for the past three years to help Azula honor her promise to the nation as the advisor’s were unable to put all of their trust into Zuko alone. 

Which had actually been an extremely helpful conclusion. Without the help of Y/N, Zuko didn’t think Azula would’ve been able to make any progress, let alone the amount she had made now. Y/N was the light to Azula’s darkness.

She was also the girl that Zuko had a little bit of a crush on, which he’d admitted to himself early on in their relationship—not that he’d call their relationship a “relationship”. Zuko wasn’t actually sure what they were.

When he’d met Y/N, she was nothing but a tool that he was forced to provide for his advisors. There hadn’t been many applicants due to the dark cloud of Azula’s stigma, but Y/N had shone against the few that’d applied.

He’d selected her himself, reading through her resume and immediately liking what he saw—and after speaking to her in person for the very first time, he knew that if anyone could help Azula, it’d be her.

What he didn’t know, was that he’d begin to notice how utterly and undeniably amazing Y/N was.

She was kind to the servants, never failing to remember their names. She’d wish each and every one of them a happy birthday, even if she’d never spoken to them before.

The nation’s people were in love with her, thankful that she was brave enough to take on the challenge of spending one-on-one time with the princess, and for the pure goodness of her heart.

Zuko had become enthralled by her mentality and love for life on the first day of Azula’s treatment. However, he’d still been involved with Mai, leaving little to no room to explore friendships with other women.

But now that he and Mai had broken up, Zuko was free to make his own decisions without having to worry about her constant attitude. Mai was in no way a bad person, but she was a bad person for Zuko.

As he helped Y/N to her feet, Zuko’s face was flushed bright red. If he was being honest, she made him nervous—more nervous than any person had ever made him.

“That was a pretty bad fall,” he said sheepishly, stuffing his hands into the pockets of his robes to avoid Y/N seeing how much he was shaking. “Are you alright?”

Y/N smiled, her expression warming Zuko’s heart. “I’m perfectly fine, Fire Lord Zuko. You don’t need to worry, I’m quite used to falling over.”

He laughed, dropping his head to hide the deepening blush dawning his face. Zuko took a breath, preparing to end the disaster of an interaction so he couldn’t embarrass himself any further.

“Well then,” he started, beginning to back away from Y/N in the most natural way he could manage. “Is there anything I can do for you before you’re on your way?”

Y/N nodded her head, gesturing to the large kitchen space surrounding them. “There is actually!” She exclaimed, pulling out a wrinkled piece of paper from her bag.

“I wanted to surprise Azula with some of her favorite treats, but I’m afraid that I’m not sure what those are. This is all I have to work with.”

Zuko peered over her shoulder, studying the various names of deserts and snacks that had been carelessly written across the page. He knew by the handwriting that it’d been Azula that had given Y/N the list.

His sister hadn’t made it easy on Y/N, only providing a few of the many Fire Nation delicacies that she enjoyed—but Zuko was going to make sure that Y/N’s plan went perfectly.

“I’d be honored to help you with this, Y/N.” He grinned, taking the list from her hands and heading towards the exit. Y/N stood still behind him, shocked that Zuko would jump to the task of her aid.

She stumbled, doing her best to follow along without causing more havoc. “Are you sure?” She asked, concern laced in her voice. “Don’t you have any Fire Lord duties to attend to, Fire Lord Zuko?”

Zuko shook his head, stopping to a halt in order to be beside her. He looked into her eyes, trying to show that he was unbothered by his titles and that his duties could wait. 

“Call me Zuko.” He requested, hating the way his authoritarian name sounded coming from her lips. “And of course I can join you. The Fire Nation can miss me for one day.”

Y/N’s face lit up, excited to hear that she had the honor of calling her leader by his first name. “Okay Zuko,” she trailed on, grabbing one of the woven baskets sitting on top of the counter. “I guess we’re spending the day together.”

Zuko nodded, grabbing a basket of his own before holding the door open for Y/N, which she gladly walked through, proud of herself for befriending the most famous member of the Fire Nation—who’d finally come up with his response.

“Then, I guess it’s a date.”

Year three, day eighty-seven.

Zuko cursed to himself, pricking his fingers on yet another rose bush. Little scratches and marks graced his fingertips, encouraging his hatred for the thorn covered stems. 

He’d been in the royal gardens for what had seemed like hours, searching for the most perfect flower he could find. However, with spring time just beginning, there were few plants that had fully grown.

Normally Zuko wouldn’t be caught dead in the middle of the gardens, dirt all over his formal wear, and leaves caught in his traditional bun—but for Y/N, there was no telling the lengths Zuko would go to make her happy.

They’d been seeing each other romantically ever since their trip to the market in search of deserts. While their goal had been to provide food for Azula, he and his love had ended up spending all of their time at the beach.

Distractions had come early on, intrusive thoughts and worries erupted in Zuko’s mind. Y/N, having noticed this, had suggested that they worry about Azula another time. 

He’d wholeheartedly agreed with her, happily getting to know and understand Y/N for the entirety of their night, quickly falling for her natural charms. It wasn’t long after that when Zuko had asked her on a real date, one without the original nerves.

Which brought them to now. He and Y/N’s relationship had progressed beautifully, Zuko could confidently say that he’d never felt as seen as he did with her.

His flaws complimented her strengths and vice versa. They both knew that they were nowhere near perfect on their own, Zuko could pick out each and every one of Y/N’s flaws without hesitation and he was positive that she could do the same for him.

Y/N wasn’t held on some high pedestal where she could do no wrong in Zuko’s mind. She was just a human girl with human qualities that he happened to fall in love with. 

The girl that he loved who deserved the gift of the most amazing, gorgeous, and beautiful rose in the royal gardens. A rose of only the highest quality that Zuko’s eyes had finally landed on.

He reached down into the thorn filled bushes, wincing as he plucked out a single flower. His face lit up at the sight of the petal’s soft orange hue, seemingly in the midst of bloom.

The stem was free of the pesky thorns, smooth and welcoming of his grasp. The flower itself seemed to embody his love for Y/N perfectly, his love that he was planning on admitting to his girlfriend later in the day.

He hustled out of the gardens, quickly heading towards the kitchens where he’d informed the staff of his evening plans. Zuko had asked for the whole night off, wishing to be free of his lordly duties, and thankfully getting his wish granted.

The fresh breeze whipped across his cheeks, rejuvenating his senses as he rushed through the halls and past the courtyard, barely taking notice of the two hysterical girls sitting under Y/N’s favorite cherry blossom tree.

Zuko’s steps halted, being frozen in awe at the contagious beauty that was emitting from his girlfriend. Her smile lit up the whole space, outshining the sun itself in his eyes.

As Azula took notice of her lurking brother, Zuko frantically stuffed the rose in his pocket, crossing his fingers that neither his sister nor Y/N had seen his surprise.

He waved sheepishly at Azula, hoping that his posture looked natural and not at all shuddering in complete nerves. Zuko was counting down the seconds to which Azula would call him out for his strange behavior, silently thanking the spirits when she chose not to.

“Zuzu?” His sister called out, her voice echoing among the wind. Y/N perked up at the sound of his name, curiously looking out to see Zuko’s awkward position. “What is it that you need, brother?”

Zuko shrugged, internally panicking and attempting to come up with a reasonable excuse for interrupting Azula’s time with Y/N. Normally he’d never intrude on Azula’s Y/N hours, believing that she deserved to have fun with her best friend without his presence.

His feet began to rock beneath him, his heels alternating positions on the stone ground. Zuko gestured to Y/N, pointing at her in response. “I need to speak with, Y/N. I have some business that we need to cover, it’ll only take a second.”

Y/N stood up as fast as lightning, nearly falling over in doing so. Zuko chuckled at her eagerness, eager to talk to her as well not having had any time together earlier in the day.

“I heard that the Fire Lord requested me?” Y/N grinned, standing beside Zuko at a comfortable distance, not wanting to flaunt their relationship in front of Azula for some unknown reason. 

Zuko brushed it off, knowing that whatever it was that Azula and Y/N had was nothing but a friendship. He didn’t want to be jumping to conclusions, no matter how confused he was about it all. Y/N would tell him whenever she was ready.

“What could the infamous Fire Lord need with someone such as myself?” Y/N pondered jokingly. Zuko rolled his eyes at her ridiculousness, ruffling her already unruly hair in doing so. 

He felt a smile bear his cheeks, unable to contain the utter joy that came with being with Y/N. “I just wanted to tell you that you have plans for tonight.”

Y/N raised her eyebrows, giggling at the information she’d been given. “I have plans?” She repeated, her eyes sparkling in the sunlight. “And who might these plans be with?”

Zuko laughed as she went along with his ruse, her humor was also one of the million things that he loved about her. “I guess you’ll just have to wait and see, Lady Y/N.”

She shook her head in amusement while beginning to turn away from Zuko, feeling the need to return to Azula. She’d already kept the princess waiting for far too long, finally having gifted Azula with her surprise deserts. “I suppose I will.”

As her figure began to retreat, Zuko’s mind was at war with itself. On one hand, he wanted to wait until that night to reveal his gift to Y/N—but on the other, he couldn’t contain his excitement.

Choosing to follow his latter instinct, Zuko reached out to take hold of Y/N’s forearm. She let out a gasp, nearly running straight into his chest. Her eyes radiated with confusion, wondering what Zuko could possibly still need.

He took one of her hands into his, relishing in the feeling of the perfect fit, before revealing the blooming rose that had been stuffed into his robe’s pockets and offering it to the girl in front of him.

Y/N’s cheeks flushed bright red, becoming a much deeper hue than the rose itself. “What’s this for?” She asked, gently taking the rose from Zuko’s light grip.

Zuko watched as she spun the stem around in her palm, studying the beauty of the flower. He once again contradicted himself, most likely ruining his evening plans in doing so. 

“For the sole reason that I love you.” He admitted shyly, praying that she felt the same. His heart thumped in his chest, jumping at the idea of her being in love with him.

Y/N reached forward to wrap her arms around his neck, her hands playing with the stray hairs on Zuko’s head. She pulled him in for a tight hug, before whispering into his ear.

“I figure you’d meant to save that for later.” He could hear the grin on her face through the tone of her voice. “I suppose I might as well save my words for later, considering you couldn’t yourself.”

With that, Y/N pressed a light kiss to his cheek, lingering slightly before skipping back towards Azula—who’d begun to look bothered by their intimate interaction.

Zuko’s hand caressed his own cheek, his mind doing a dance of its own at the news that Y/N felt the exact same way. This day was amazing, he’d determined. She was amazing.

Year four, day two-hundred and one.

Fear. That was the only emotion on Zuko’s mind. Fear of rejection. Fear of being alone. Fear of losing the person that mattered most in his life. The person who he considered to be up in the ranks of Iroh and Ursa.

It’d been over a year and a half since he and Y/N had begun dating and about one year past the date in which they’d admitted their unconditional love for one another.

Their relationship had only gotten more close and intimate since then, causing Zuko to come to the realization that he wanted to spend the rest of his life by her side. There was no one else for him, he was sure of it.

Of course, the only logical thing to do would be to propose, which had caused an immense amount of stress on Zuko’s life.

He’d gone and gotten Y/N’s parents blessing, his own family’s blessing, and his advisor’s blessing before going out to prepare for his proposal. Zuko had picked out the finest jeweler in the Fire Nation, helping design and create the perfect ring for his beloved.

Now, the only thing left to do was actually propose. Which was one of the few things Zuko was certain would happen that night. What he wasn’t certain of, was if Y/N would accept.

“Please, please, please.” Zuko mumbled to himself, standing outside of Y/N’s chambers, itching to knock on her door. Every nerve in his body was screaming with positivity. “Please let this go to plan.”

The entrance swung open, Zuko’s hand still midair. Y/N was bouncing in excitement, having suspicions of the big question Zuko was meaning to pop. She’d been waiting for hours for his arrival, sitting by the door with anticipation on her mind.

“Y/N!” Zuko yelped in surprise, nearly falling over at the sight of her face so close to his own. She laughed at his unbalanced posture, glad to see the tables had turned for once.

She held out her hand, taking his in her own and led him out of the hallway and into another. “So what’s the big surprise?” She wiggled her eyebrows, trying to suppress the large smile forming on her lips.

“A little bird told me that you asked the entire staff to keep out of the kitchens tonight?” She let out her smile at the sight of Zuko’s flushed face. He shook his head in disbelief, loving the fact that his staff adored her as much as he did.

“That little bird can’t keep a secret.” He wrapped an arm around her body, leading her towards their destination—the place where they’d first discovered their connection.

As they entered the kitchen, strong smells of freshly baked bread, warm wood logs, and most prominent of all—roses, filled the room. The aroma was overwhelming, dominating all of Y/N’s senses.

Zuko pulled out her chair for her, making sure that she was comfortable before taking a seat of his own. He took a deep breath, feeling the weight of the ring box in his pocket, before continuing on as if everything was normal.

His plans went off without a hitch. They shared a meal, some laughter, a few kisses here and there—now came the time for Zuko’s big question. The question that would determine their entire future.

“I love you so much.” Zuko breathed out, sitting beside her at the small table. He held her hand, pressing a light kiss to the back of it and stuffed his own into his pocket.

He took out the ring box, placing it on display in his grasp above the table. “I’m well aware that you know what I’m going to ask you.” He smiled, biting his lip and looking into her beautiful eyes. 

Her expression was indescribable. Tears welled in her sockets, dripping slowly down her cheeks. Her hands were covering her mouth, trying to prevent any soft sobs from escaping her lips.

“And I just want to lay everything out, before you say yes.” He explained, furrowing his eyebrows. “I don’t want you agreeing to something that you may come to hate.”

Zuko set down the box, now taking both hands into his. He squeezed them, trying to calm down Y/N’s rapid breathing. “By saying yes, you’d not only become my wife, but a leader of my people.”

“They already look up to you so much, but as the Fire Lord’s wife—their expectations could get out of hand.” Y/N nodded at his words, taking in his reservations and understanding his concerns.

“I want you to accept this proposal for the sole reason that I love you.” He confessed, having confessed it a million times before. “I love you, and I want to spend the rest of my life with you.”

Y/N leaned forwards, cupping Zuko’s face in her palms before kissing him deeply. She poured all of her emotion into the single act, expressing her feelings and acceptance of his proposal.

“You are everything to me, Zuko.” Her eyes sparkled with tears, her hands shaking. She let her arms hang loosely around his neck, bringing him even closer. “I’d love to marry you.”

Zuko felt his eyes begin to water, sweeping her into a large hug, causing the both of them to lose their balance and fall to the floor. They laughed together, radiating happiness as Zuko slipped on the ring—marking their engagement.

Year four, day two-hundred and two.

Zuko rushed through the hallways, his footsteps rapidly hitting the pavement in urgency. Staff members and servants swerved to the side, trying their best not to get in the way of the famous Fire Lord.

His hair had come undone in the midst of his sprint, his robes flapping behind him in the wind. The rain was pouring outside of the palace, washing away the clear skies that had taken up the day’s morning.

The thunder rumbled, echoing down the vast walkways, filling the palace with dread. Worry had overcome Zuko’s mind—worry for the girl who’d become his fiancée just the night before.

“Please be alright.” He mumbled to himself, stepping into their shared bedroom which was filled with the sound of her beautiful soft sobs. Zuko dropped the soaking robes, letting them fall from his shoulders before calling out. “Y/N?”

The cries began to settle, quieting for only a moment before picking up again. “I’m in here!” He heard Y/N exclaim, choking back her sadness. “Although, I’m afraid I look like quite a mess.”

Zuko shook his head, his royal mannerisms being thrown out of the door the minute his love came into view. He knelt down beside her, holding her close as she continued to let out her agony.

“One of the servants interrupted my meeting earlier.” He said quietly, his arms wrapping around her shaking figure in an attempt to calm her nerves. “They said you made a bit of a ruckus at the beach.”

He pressed a kiss to her cheek, resting his head on top of hers. A deep sigh escaped his lips, confusion and concern being his only emotions in that moment. “What exactly did happen at the beach?”

Y/N breathing began to even out, her sobs subsiding as she relished in the feeling of being in Zuko’s warm arms. She stared at the engagement ring resting on her finger, as she began to give the explanation that she’d been dreading.

“I told Azula about what happened last night.” Her voice sounded numb, the usual merriment and joy was void from her tone. She gulped, preparing herself for Zuko’s inevitable shock. “And she wasn’t happy, at all.”

Zuko’s eyebrows furrowed, trying to piece together why Azula wouldn’t find excitement in their happiness. Their engagement was a definite sign of love between her brother and best friend. Why wouldn’t she want them to be happy?

“What’d she do?” He asked, trying to get definite answers that would suffice the questions on his mind. “Yell? Scream? Did she hurt you?”

“No.” Y/N shook her head absentmindedly, she turned to face Zuko in his embrace, her eyes bloodshot. She bit her lip, preventing any more cries from escaping, before taking a shallow breath.

“She kissed me.”

Nothing. That was all that was running through Zuko’s head. Absolutely nothing. He had no thoughts on the matter, no opinions, no ideas that had ever even come close to that explanation.

He’d always known that Azula and Y/N were close, far closer than typical best friends would be—but he’d never guess that his sister had had feelings for the love of his life.

He’d never have guessed that his love used to have feelings for her as well.

“It just happened, I don’t know how.” Y/N explained, her eyes beginning to brim with tears once again. Zuko shushed her, bringing her closer to his chest to show her that he would always be there to comfort her.

“One second we were laughing and talking and the next thing I know she kisses me and I’m storming away.” Y/N clenched her fists, closing her eyes whilst trying to repress the anger she’d felt in that moment.

“I just don’t understand why she did this now!” She exclaimed angrily, slamming her hand onto the soft floor of the carpet. “I don’t understand why she did this after she told me that she didn’t love me, two years ago!”

Zuko felt immense rage bubble up inside of his chest. Not at all angered at the idea of them loving one another, but at the notion that Azula had intentionally broken Y/N’s heart.

He took a hold of her shaking hands, suppressing her anger with the natural comfort his presence brought her. They sat in silence with nothing but the sound of the thunder outside, holding each other as if they were all they had left.

Year five, the last day.

Serenity. That was the only thing left to feel on the wide spectrum of Zuko’s emotions. He’d found the person that brought him inner peace, someone who could calm his fire, rather than smother it.

Y/n was his soulmate, there was no denying that. He knew it, she knew it—spirits, the entire world knew it. There had never been two people more overwhelmingly compatible in all of Fire Nation history.

With the support of his people behind him, Zuko and Y/N had felt no need to keep their engagement a secret. Their only reservations being the topic of Azula, which was a sore subject on both of their minds.

Neither of them had been in contact with his sister in the past few months, afraid of pressing the issue further and making more of a mess. Y/N wanted to be on good terms with Azula, perhaps even friends again.

Azula, however, had refused Y/N’s requests for any meetings or sessions. She’d caved herself in her room, only allowing servants to come in and out with meals. 

Zuko hadn’t seen his sister behave in such a manner since they were just the two little children of royalty, pitted against each other. He hadn’t seen her like this since she had her spiral.

In all honesty, Zuko was worried about Azula. He saw his sister’s improvements and the good nature breaking down her bad—but without Y/N, he didn’t know if she could continue the path upwards on her own.

Her struggles would come witness later today as Azula had accepted their formal invitation to the wedding. The wedding that they had specifically scheduled on Azula’s last day of rehabilitation for the sole purpose that she could attend.

Not that Zuko was even positive that Azula wanted to attend the ceremony. He feared that his sister was still lost in her feelings for Y/N, and wouldn’t have the strength to be present.

That’d been on the back of his mind all morning. While he was getting his robes fitted, his hair tied up—even while he was reuniting with his old friends, the friends he hadn’t seen in months.

Azula was the only thing he could think about, because while he never openly admitted it—his sister did matter to him. She actually mattered more than most things, and her feelings for his soon-to-be wife brought Zuko a sadness that he would never be rid of.

Knowing that his little sister would never be able to be with the person she loved most in the world was heartbreaking, and knowing that he was the reason behind that—it was just wrong.

Their lives hadn’t been fair growing up and he’d expected adulthood to be somewhat better than the hell they’d lived, but life wasn’t like that. It simply wasn’t.

There’s good and bad in the world. Sometimes the good outshining the bad and other times where the bad overwhelms the good, crushing it under its darkness—but despite that the world still needs balance, never tipping the scale too far one way.

With these thoughts constantly running through his brain, taught to him by Iroh in his own darkest moments, Zuko knew that Azula had a happy ending. Someone, somewhere out there, would be the person to make her happy.

He knew this by simply knowing her, and knowing the new person she’d become. He knew by the look on her face as Y/N walked down their rose covered aisle, her veil trailing behind her against the petals.

Azula’s expression was solemn, heartbreak and sadness rolled into one. However, there was a gleam in her eyes at the sight of Y/N’s smile, knowing that she’d never been the one to make her grin like that.

One glance, one second of eye contact between the two siblings gave Zuko the notion that Azula would be okay. She’d grow from this and continue on with her life, loving every second as the new and improved person she’d become.

The feeling of serenity had finally devoured Zuko’s concern, inklings of content reached his soul, settling his worries and letting his full attention focus on the beautiful girl standing in front of him.

The beautiful girl who was the perfect fit to his broken puzzle. Y/N, his perfect person—that he was now able to call his wife.

TAGS: @practicallylivesonline @cherryskyies @shell-bells-ringding @xapham @mochminnie​ @bombardia @lammello @user12345321 @xxspqcebunsxx @missmorosis @mysticpeacecrusade @akiris

[wolfwarden]

15, 18, and 19, my friend! Bonus question that I never seem to find in meta asks but after my last ask am terribly curious- Song(s) you most associate with your most recent project/the Link featured in your most recent project?

Paloma! Hello! Thank you for the questions! (Questions are from this post. And the answer to #19 is on this post. :) )

15. Which is harder: titles or summaries (or tags)?

Paloma, I have a feeling you know my answer to this one. ;) You might have seen me agonize over the bane of my existence: TITLES. What is the secret?! Long? Short? Make it unique enough to stand out or keep it simple enough to remember easily? Rarely will I have the perfect title come to me early. I have to pull up a note file, fill it with 25 different possibilities, then agonize over it for 3 days before coming up with something completely different. XD I think I agonized over "A Walk in the Woods" the longest? "Distant Blue" and "Bittersweet" were my only two that I loved immediately.

Summaries I don't stress about too much because I use the "paste a section of your story in the summary" method. I try to pick something short (or I edit it down) that gives off the tone of my story and hints enough at the plot. I let the tags do a lot of the heavy lifting for telling the who and what. Now if only I can remember to always use the Linked Universe tag... XD

18. Do any of your stories have alternative versions? (plotlines that you abandoned, AUs of your own work, different characterizations?) Tell us about them.

Ohhh, what a fun question! I don't have AUs but I do have cut/alternate scenes. For Whumptober I had two pieces that I had to do some significant revisions on. The first was "Ignite" which I originally wrote from Warriors' POV and had a longer ending.

The second piece was "A Walk in the Woods." I had a fun little scene planned out where the hunters from the beginning of the fic run into the rest of the chain as they search for Twilight. I was really sad that scene couldn't make the final cut, but I couldn't justify the POV change for just one scene.

If anyone is interested, I'll put a little bit of those scenes under the read more below.

Song(s) you most associate with your most recent project/the Link featured in your most recent project?

A bonus question! How delightful! Well my most recently posted project is "Grateful" (1 of 3 multi-chapters in progress right now😬) and it is Sky-centric. 💗 Paloma, I sat on this ask for a LONG TIME and for some reason I can't think of any songs related to this fic. Normally I do associate songs with characters/stories but for some reason, nothing has caught my attention for "Grateful". XD Ha! I DO like listening to music from "The Dark Crystal: Age of Resistance" (particularly this track) when I write "Grateful" because it has a nice unsettling vibe but is still beautiful. Which does kinda match what I hope to do for "Grateful" so there you go.

I think bouncing between three fics at once has occupied my mind so I don't latch onto songs like I usually do. But, just for you, I'll give you one for Sky and one for my other WIP: For Sky, particularly for my poor sappy zelink shipper heart, I like "If My Heart Was a House" by Owl City. For "Isn't It Worth a Little Suffering?" (Warriors, Mask, and Fierce Deity angst fic) I like "The Moon is Falling Down" by Crywolf.

[Unused scenes for "Ignite" and "A Walk in the Woods" below]

"A Walk in the Woods" (ALT scene. Two hunters meet the chain looking for a missing Twilight. A different take on the line "I ain't never had wolf.")

The archer’s expression sours. “We’re just tryna’ survive. Ain’t got time for uppity ‘heroes’ who think they get special treatment.” The archer’s lanky friend looks anxiously from one well-armed hero to the next. Legend doesn’t like the way the man’s fingers drum against the side of a large knife hilt in his belt. The air is ripe for someone to try something stupid.

Hyrule’s voice is admirably calm. “We aren’t asking for anything of yours. Just wanting to know if you’ve seen anything.”

“Only thing we’ve seen is you lot causing a racket and chasing away our next meal!”

Sky tries to step in. “That wasn’t our intent, we assure you. But-”

The archer whistles sharply, cutting Sky off. “ ’Course not, ‘course not, you didn’t mean it. Fella like you looks like you never had to skip a meal.”

Wind gives a short exclamation and Legend has some choice words bubbling up own his throat before Sky only smiles and waves his friends down.

“Sir,” Sky asks again, still infuriatingly polite, “we’re just looking for a wolf.”

“Wolf?” The archer spits. “I ain’t never had wolf before. Good eating, is it?” He jabs the end of his bow toward Sky’s stomach.

Legend hears no less than three different weapons sliding halfway out of sheaths before Sky calmly catches the edge of the bow and bats it away. The smile on his face is quite forced now. “Thank you for the information, sir. We’ll be on our way.” Sky turns to walk away, one hand forcibly pushing Wind in front of him, the pirate’s face flushed and murderous. The rest of the group reluctantly follows.

The archer and his friend laugh. “Oi!” The lanky man calls, “If I do come across a wolf I’ll be sure to save some for ya! Least I can do for a buncha heroes!”

Wild’s feet stumble to a halt.

“Let it go, Wild,” Sky murmurs. “Let the fools be fools.”

“What’s this?” The archer calls. “No ‘thank you’ from yer majesties?”

“The wolf is a companion of ours,” Warriors answers rigidly, “so it’s fortunate you haven’t come across him.”

That should be the end of it, but Legend makes the mistake of looking back.

The archer catches his eye and leers. “Weeell, come to think of it, maybe I have had a bite or two. Hard to remember for sure what’s in the ol’ belly.” The man slaps his midsection and laughs again.

Forget Sky’s ‘peace on earth’ garbage, Legend thinks. I’m gonna-

A ringing sound fills the air as Sky barrels past Legend, master sword freed from her sheath and coming to a dead stop at the man’s nose.

“My friend,” Sky says, “I’ve thought of a solution to your problem.”

The man’s face is frozen, his friend equally so. Legend can’t see Sky’s expression but his friend’s cheery tone makes every warning alarm go off in his brain.

Sky leans forward, sword never wavering. “Let’s cut you open and see if the sight of your entrails is enough to jog your memory.”

To his credit, the man finds his courage and glares back, yellowed teeth bared. “Some heroes. Stuck up brats, the lot of ya!” He raises his chin intending to say more, but his eyes refocus on the tip of Sky’s sword.

Sky waits, steady and quiet. As much as Legend wants to see Sky thrash these men, the rational part of his brain is watching the sun sink lower in the trees and reminds him that every second of daylight is time they could spend looking for Twilight. He reaches out and puts one cautious hand on Sky’s shoulder. He can feel the tension under his fingertips, barely contained worry and anxiety finally finding an outlet toward the first target foolish enough to trigger it.

“Like I said,” the man growls, “I ain’t never had wolf.”

~~~

"Ignite" (ALT scene. Warriros POV)

Dahst’s face is red. “No!” He snatches at Warriors' tunic. Warriors is glad they took his scarf off him. He’d hate for ol’ meathead’s stench to rub off on the fine fabric. “You like running your mouth, huh? Well how about we play a new game?”

Warriors cocks an eyebrow. “Oh? What’s that?” Just keep him talking. Keep everyone here in one spot. Give Legend enough time to find us.

“You beg pretty enough, and I’ll stop.”

Warriors has to force himself not to roll his eyes. More beatings? This guy is a one-trick pony. He takes a breath to steady himself. He’s no stranger to bruises and broken bones.

But the blows don’t come. Dahst shoves him, and Warriors' back hits the cages again. Animals hiss and squawk in protest. He straightens, surprised to feel the faint brush of fur against his fingertips. He glances back. A small fur-covered creature with long ears has braved the front of the cage. Its color reminds him of Legend’s hair.

Dahst advances on Warriors, a torch held before him. Fire. Warriors' confidence flickers before he sets his jaw in defiance. It’s fine. Nothing has changed. He can handle this.

The flames hiss and pop as they draw nearer to his face. Warrior’s arm itches and he stills his hand before he can scratch at old burn scars.

The heat grows in intensity as Dahst pushes closer. Warriors tries to blank his expression but he can already see the man’s look of delight.

“What’s this? No more snappy words?”

The flames reach out to lick at his hair, before they abruptly draw back and lower, slowly tracing down his torso.

“Let’s see, let’s see. Where to start?”

Warriors tries not to recall the way he felt as a young trainee, stupidly standing up to the rampaging dragon knight, Volga. That trainee had been brave and stupid and had come far too close to being burnt alive that day. The fight itself was a blur in his memory, but the searing pain after was not something he could ever forget. Not the way his skin bubbled and blackened. Not the bone-deep agony that persisted for hours after the potions did what they could.

The fire presses in closer. His breathing picks up and he presses tightly against the wagon before he fully realizes what he’s doing. He looks about for anything to distract him from the ripples of heat and his captor’s smug expression thrown in sharp relief by the flames. He looks down and catches the shine from the pink creature’s wide, glossy eyes. The little thing presses hard against the bars and stares desperately up at Warriors.

Odd that its expression is so human.

~~~

"Ignite" (ALT ending. Legend POV. Didn't quite have the punch I wanted. Too sappy. XD)

Warriors is dragged away to be tossed into the wagon, the cages rattling as he hits the floorboards.

In minutes the wagon is moving, the swaying motion tossing Legend off balance. His cage is stacked on the outer edge of the wagon and there are too many feathers, horns, and legs in his way to see more than glimpses of his friend inside.

After a few minutes, he hears hushed voices from inside the wagon.

“Please, lie still!” A woman’s voice. “I can remove the gag but you must be silent.”

Legend waits for an irritatingly long time.

Then Warriors' voice rasps out. “Thank you. But my friend… Have you seen a young man, shorter than me, red tunic-”

“Hush! There is no one like that here.”

Yeah, Wars, find out some useful information.

But Warriors is persistent. “Please! Blond hair, pink on the ends-”

“Sir.” The woman’s voice is firm. “As you can see, it’s only the five of us.”

“But I heard him.” Warriors sounds very small. “He’s here. And… he can’t be here.”

“We’ve seen no one like that. Be grateful your friend is elsewhere.”

There's a tense pause before Warriors speaks again. Legend recognizes the false confidence in his voice right away. “He’s coming after us. My friends will be here and we’ll be out soon.”

“Sir,” the woman’s answer is laced with weariness, “we’ll be sold long before then. And nobody knows where we are.”

“But he’s was here. I know it.”

“You saw him?”

“I-” Warriors’ voice cuts off.

The woman’s voice is gentler now. “Sometimes… we imagine things we want to be true-”

“No.”

“-when we are in great pain.”

“It wasn’t like that.”

She sighs. “Then he will come. Or he won’t. May Hylia grant wings on his feet.”

Warriors doesn’t respond to that. Legend glares down at his tiny pink paws. Hylia never saw fit to help him out before. And it’s been an age since he bothered to beg her for help. He scoffs. Warriors certainly isn’t one for begging.

“Help.”

Legend’s ears twitch, Warriors’ softly spoken word is barely discernible amidst the creak of the wagon and yowling of the various captive creatures. No way...

“Hylia,” Warriors says, “if you’re listening… I’ve never asked for much. But please…”

Legend snorts. Thick-skulled fool! He’d rather be burned alive than beg? But here he is, cowering to Hylia. A bonfire doesn’t open his mouth but now?! What on earth would compel him to-

“-keep him safe. I don’t know what kind of trouble he’s gotten into. But just… keep him alive until I get there.”

Legend ducks his head, feeling a familiar burn behind his eyes and an ache in his chest.

Idiot. He glares through the bars.

…Same to you. Just stay alive until I can get to you.

[poptimus-prime]

10 from the prompt with Optiratch my guy 😌👊💖💖

Physical affection prompts!

#10 Lifting someone up out of excitement.

I took Liberties. I hope that’s OK.

“What is the final line, Rafael?”

“‘Well, I’m back.’” The boy looked up with a little smile as he closed the book.

“Thank you...” Ratchet rubbed Raf’s head with a finger before typing out the line as it would read in Cybertronian script, a wave of pride washing over him. He—with the help of Rafael—had somehow managed to translate the entire text of Lord of the Rings, right on time for the day the children had assigned as Optimus’s “birthday.”

While Optimus held that book as his favorite work of fiction, the Autobots’ abilities to read English—or any language of Earth, really—were...left to be desired. The Prime had to rely on audio books or the humans being willing to sit and read it to him, when he’d honestly rather just read the text himself.

“You think he’ll like it?” Ratchet asked as he held the completed data pad in his hands.

“He’ll love it.” Raf gave him a smile. As if on cue, Optimus pulled in, transforming out of alt mode and coming over to the console.

“Good afternoon, Ratchet. Rafael.” He had a soft smile on his face. “How are you?”

“Good!” Raf smiled. “Happy birthday!”

“Oh, that was today?” Optimus would probably be sweating if he could.

“Yes, it is. And by the way...” Ratchet held the data pad out. “I made something for you.”

“You’re too kind, Old Friend...thank you.”Optimus gently took the pad, reading the title section. His eyebrows rose on his forehelm, and his optics widened significantly. Ratchet just watched on, nervously, before Optimus suddenly set the data pad down and scooped him up, pressing kisses into the side of his helm.

“Optimus-?!” Ratchet squawked before the Prime cut him off in a rare display of raw joy and emotion.

“You translated my favorite Earth text for me!” He cried out happily, pressing one last kiss into his faceplate. Ratchet gently stroked the side of his helm, resting comfortably in his hold. “Thank you...”

“I cannot take all the credit. Rafael read it to me so I could translate it.”

Optimus smiled widely, shifting Ratchet carefully to stroke Raf’s head with his finger. “Thank you, Rafael.”

“Don’t mention it, Optimus.”

The Prime slowly set the medic down, nuzzling him one last time. Ratchet looked up at him with a gentle smile and passed the data pad back to him. “Today is your “birthday”, and you should take some time to enjoy your present.”

“I will.” Optimus beamed. “Would you like me to read it to you both?”

“We’ve already read it a lot...” Raf scuffed his shoes along the console, worried that would ruin the experience.

“You haven’t heard Optimus read a story.” Ratchet offered a servo out for the child.

[lemonlillybee]

Sicktember Day 3: Soft Pajamas

Sicktember Day 3

Read on AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/41475840

Title: Soft Pajamas

Prompt: Alt #1 Soft Pajamas 

Fandom: Spider-Man (MCU)

Word Count: 760

A/N: I wrote a little drabble to go with the art. I’m using an alternate prompt again today because #3 will show up later this month! @sicktember

“Okay, you’ll need to get– hold on, Hap. I’ll call you right back.” Tony pauses in the doorway, abruptly ending his phone call with Happy and looking around in bewilderment. Peter’s shoes are lined up neatly against the wall next to his backpack, which isn’t a completely unusual sight, except for the fact that it’s a Tuesday morning and Peter should definitely be in school and not here at the Tower.

“F.R.I.D.A.Y.? Is Peter here?”

“ Yes, Boss. Peter is currently in your lab .”

“In…in my lab?” Tony hurries to the elevator, nodding in approval when the doors open as he approaches. “Fill me in on the situation, please.”

“ Peter arrived at 10:07 a.m. At that time, his temperature was 100.2 degrees Fahrenheit. He asked for your location, and when he learned of your absence he requested the location of soft clothing. He retrieved pajamas from your dresser drawer at 10:15 a.m. Peter’s temperature is currently at 102.7 degrees Fahrenheit and climbing. He is asleep, but is exhibiting signs of discomfort, including an increased heart rate and symptoms of an upper respiratory infection .”

Tony closes his eyes and takes a deep breath through his nose, willing the elevator to move faster.

“Okay, so Peter is sick? A fever and respiratory infection? And he’s down in my lab sleeping on the couch down there?”

“ No, Boss, he is sleeping on the floor .”

“On the–?”

Just then, the elevator doors ding open and Tony quickly steps off, scanning the room for Peter. He spots a mess of brown curls in the corner and jogs over to where the boy is sitting in the corner, slumped against the wall and snoring softly. His face is flushed and he’s still in his Spider-Man suit, the built-in heater cranked up. Over his suit he has on a pair of fleece pajamas that Tony’s pretty sure he’s never seen in his life.

“Hey, Underoos,” he murmurs, letting out a breath he hadn’t even realized he’d been holding. He places a hand on Peter’s shoulder and frowns at the heat radiating off of him. “Wake up, just for a minute?”

Peter’s lips move, and his snores stutter into an uneven, whistling noise before he sniffles thickly, but his eyes remain closed.

“Peter?”

Peter jerks awake with a gasp, his hands coming up to scrub at his eyes and nose.

“Hey.” Tony forces a smile.

“Hey,” Peter croaks, blinking up at him in confusion. “Mr. Stark?”

“In the flesh.”

“What are you doing here?”

“Well, it appears that I should be asking you that. Why aren’t you in school?”

Peter glances around the room, eyes glassy. “I…don’t…know…” He says slowly, voice cracking. His eyes land on his pants, and he touches his thigh, forehead wrinkling.  

“F.R.I.D.A.Y. says you got those pajamas from my dresser. I have no idea where they came from, but they’re yours now, okay?”

“Oh.” Peter lets his fingers run over the fabric. “They’re soft.”

“Yeah. Let’s lose the suit though, hm? I bet I have a nice soft shirt instead, I’ll trade you.”

“Okay,” Peter whispers. “I…I’m sick.”

“Yep.”

“Okay.”

Tony sighs and stands, offering a hand out to Peter. “Think you can stand?”

Peter shakes his head, but he takes Tony’s hand and pushes himself up off the ground anyway, swaying slightly but standing on his own. Tony leads him over to the couch, considering the long trip back up to the living quarters and determining they can attempt that later. For now, he settles Peter on the couch in his lab, instructing F.R.I.D.A.Y. to keep an eye on him so he can gather a few supplies.

When he returns, Peter is asleep again, so he pulls out his phone and switches the heater in Peter’s suit off, deciding to let him rest for now. He sets the supplies down on the glass coffee table, then pulls a chair over and sits next to the couch, mindlessly arranging and rearranging the items on the table while Peter snores. After a while he looks down at the last item that’s sitting on his lap. It’s one of his own sleep shirts, a Black Sabbath tee that’s soft from years of wear and the most comfortable thing he owns by far. He can already imagine Peter’s comment on the “really old” band referenced on the shirt, and he reaches out to run his fingers through the boy’s hair with a fond smile on his face.

[valaks]

Hey Valaks! I love your blog and your writing!

Please could you do 1, 10 and 18 for the writing asks?? 🌺

Thank you for the ask! I have added a cut to hopefully not be that person clogging up the feed XD

1. Tell us about your current project(s) – what’s it about, how’s progress, what do you love most about it?

I have a few collabs outstanding like Gemini and a Kabir/Alex sequel to Reunion (It’s rated T at the most so still kid friendly) with Lupin and Devil Went Down to Georgia with Galimau. My utter love for both of my collab partners for pulling me through at a time when I’ve been really struggling. I have a WIPs List but I’ll confess to not having touched most of them in quite sometime (partly from life, partly because I’m not sure how interesting they’d be to anyone else other than me which influences my writing more than I would like to admit):

Good Intentions: Smithers never thought he’d be anyone’s moral compass, he was no angel to sit in anyone’s shoulder but trying to keep Alex Rider from following in the ruthless footsteps of his father or worse his former handler, Alan Blunt is as close to hell as he can imagine. (Wherein Alex becomes head of MI6 we watch his morality slip away form the eyes of an increasingly frustrated and heartbroken Smithers - it all culminates when Alex uses a child “just as an informant, simple information gathering” but hidden behind the charming smile of John Rider and the brutal coldness of Alan Blunt’s words is Alex Rider dying as he says them (Smithers just hopes there’s still a part of the boy he once knew in there to mourn)

Walk the Line: Alex thought he was done with SCORPIA. But they kept creeping back into his life in the most unexpected of ways. He thought he could at least count on it being on the other side until he gets teamed up with Walker, his former classmate and current CIA spy. Unfortunately he still hasn’t been able to figure out whose side Walker is really on - attempted deep cover op like his dad, repatriated rogue spy back on the “good” side, or SCORPIA double agent? He doesn’t know but at least he’s nice....in that obnoxious American way.

Temperamental: (Sequel to Sentimental which isn’t all that popular and you would need to read it for the sequel but basically amnesiac Yassen whose memories stop pre John’s betrayal set during the Stormbreaker mission and features him trying to come to grips with the use of chemical weapons against children and how to handle Alex once he snaps back to reality which is where this starts) Yassen had promised Alex Rider that he would be safe from the world of spying but fate had other ideas. In the days after Sarov’s failed plan, Yassen scrambles to find where MI6 have hidden his wayward charge without drawing Rothman’s attention. A request from one of their existing clients to look into suspicious activity at his son’s former school prompts Yassen to investigate under the guise of offering security. He should have known where there was trouble there would be Alex.

10. How would you describe your writing process?

Lordy do I ever not have a good answer for this. Typically it involves an idea hitting me and then the determination: would this idea work better as a short to post on tumblr (because the set up would take away the tension or would require a multi chapter which is not really my strength), as a prompt to lob out into the ether for someone better and brighter to touch on, or a fic. Once fic is decided I determine whose perspective the fic would be the most interesting from either because it would create the most tension or their internal monologue/background knowledge would add the most to it. Then the summary is written and a title is chosen. If it’s something I’m really passionate about and I already have it in my head I tend to write it all in one go, if there’s more I need to chew on then it’s a series of dates with the Evil Writing App. The final determination is whether it’s good enough for Valaks or if it gets sent to an alt account.

18. Do any of your stories have alternative versions? (plotlines that you abandoned, AUs of your own work, different characterisations?) Tell us about them.

Allegedly. I’ll try to go in order of posting -

Ruthless has a sequel where Alex just goes *quiet* once the initial dust as settled it’s unnerving to everyone because they’re not used to having to wonder just what Alex is thinking, at least not behind closed doors but what happened isn’t exactly something that can be recovered from easily, not when Alex isn’t sure who all’s in on it no matter what they’ve told him. Failure is the AU where I considered what would happen to Alex to make him want to torture.

Alibi was originally going to have Yassen show up in the end but I found it far more fascinating if MI6 was just testing Alex so out went Yassen and in went Ben. The sequel to it was torn apart and turned into Warm Reception because I wanted to trope flip SCORPIA comes to Brooklands and decided that it was more logical to have a small fight in Mrs. Bedfordshire’s lobby than anywhere else and I wanted to explore some side characters instead of Ben.

Providence’s sequel thoughts ended up inspiring Gentleman’s Agreement but I did write a small short for it “Yassen and Alex encounter each other on mission. Surprisingly they are working to mostly the same goal - Yassen needs to kill the millionaire who Alex needs to get information from. “I suppose I could answer some questions for you, Sasha. /In Russian/“ “Is now really the time for a language lesson?” he ground out in frustration but the man pointedly ignored him “/Fine but I don’t know some of the words/“ “/Then there is no better way to learn/“

I mentioned the Sentimental sequel but changing Sarov to come first and probable for almost a month before Yassen figures out he’s missing made the most sense. It was also a bit of fun at the Yassen would absolutely take Alex away from MI6....just to throw him in a school and throw away the key. Almost had him send him to Point Blanc but decided that wouldn’t quite fit all that well and wouldn’t be as interesting as if Alex had already gotten his feet back under him with MI6 and now sees that Yassen was right that MI6 would just use him until he’s dead but that doesn’t mean Alex wants to be anywhere near Yassen. Julia Rothman might have other ideas when she finds out what her newest second in command is hiding.

Gentleman’s Agreement.....there’s a lot of thoughts on Sequels and AUs, a lot of them have been written by better people, but that fic was written in 45 minutes so there wasn’t much time to recharacterize or change scenes. It did get Turncoat aka the Alex saves Yassen fic I wanted so badly.

Blood Brothers is a fic I really worked hard on considering how John would feel about his son being thrown into SCORPIA assuming Alex was of age. A rocky marriage was characterization that didn’t quite fit what I imagined would have happened but did fit the story so it stayed in. It was a fic that was supposed to get expanded on - the competition between Hunter and Yassen and Nile and Alex who is desperate to beat his Dad and his “apprentice”. I think two teenagers thrown against each other with a bit of a bone to pick, especially Yassen and Alex who can both hold a grudge even if one runs hot and the other runs cold, would have been compelling and a little fun but the premise and specifically John’s characterization doesn’t quite work out to me.

Found and Legends both have their plotting done but it’ll never see the light of day

Little Moments and Sweetest Thing were my guilty pleasure writing pieces for a while and I have about 1000 DMs of scenes for both of them that are lost to the sands of time and an embarrassing amount of self indulgence

Mates has a follow up ending for those who needed resolution in the comments of it. I’m not sure I did a good job of showing that Tom was in a semi abusive relationship since a lot of people seemed to blame him for him and Alex’s breakup. Most of my headcanons for how their relationship goes have them splitting much sooner just because of Tom’s own home life and either being unable to relate/talk to Alex and drifting away because his Mom throwing a plate at his head isn’t being hung over crocodiles but that doesn’t mean it didn’t hurt or because Alex is just too dangerous/jumpy to be thrown back into a school environment and lashes out even unintentionally especially not under the pressure of being seen as a failure. School is also a barometer of just how much he’s lost of himself and his childhood, bonus points for Alex being completely upfront with Tom about everything he’s done

In My Sights has an AU where this is all post Christmas at Gunpoint and Yassen is there because he knows Ian is already at Sayle’s factory and will have to be...handled. So two weeks of just getting Alex trained for the protection he might need, connecting him to resources, etc. Ian finding out that Yassen had been there was part of a draft at one point which was included Alex wondering about an all too sincere goodbye from Ian “who never hugged him” but I can’t find the snippet anymore ;__;

A Warm Reception was an alternate version. Originally I wanted it to be Alex watching his last chance at normality slip from his fingers and then the crushing realization that it was something that was his own doing, not even MI6 but Skoda who he had picked a fight with and the accompanying breakdown but then decided that Mrs. Bedfordshire was the right way to go upon writing the summary. Because everyone loves some Outsider POV

Adopted was supposed to be a one chapter throw away trope flip of K Unit adopts Alex. I kept it pretty consistent with Amitai and Lil Lupin’s K Units, tried to add in some more characterization just in how they treated some of the details. It has an alt ending/chapter where they find out Alex is Cub when they pull him from Three’s tender mercies almost by accident. I was persuaded into light humored fluff via guilt trip.

The Truth and Other Deadly Weapons has Ben acting exactly like he think he would in front of everyone but my AU was that this interaction happened in the field and absolutely shattered Ben’s trust in him partly because he had worked for the other side and partly because even if it ‘wasn’t as bad as it looks’ it showed a severe lack of judgment. It also featured several chapters of Alex running into the glass ceiling that is having “Member Malogosto Class of 2004” on your resume. Was going to feature Alex running into Walker as well and into problems within MI6 and the CIA but that was eventually cut and it was kept to one chapter.

Guardian....Guardian holds a very special place in my heart. I was given the prompt of a Monster Fic and I wrote what I knew but the interesting parts were all the ones that come after the story but might come across to a general audience as Hogwarts School of Prayers and Miracles. The plotting done post this was going to feature baby Angel Alex reuniting with his parents but...they were strangers to him and so he stayed with Yassen more and more, followed him, learned from him....it encompassed everything from the dynamics of broken families to reflections on theology and references from the Good Book....which is why it’ll never see the fandom but has a very special place in my heart.

In another, more perfect world Glocking Around the Christmas Tree is the Die hard fic this fandom deserves but as Lupin and I untangled the plot of the movie more and more we just couldn’t make it into anything that would be coherent on paper so it was changed and changed and is now a half finished sad abomination that sits on my works list only because Lupin would kill me if I took it down.

Hot Shot was supposed to feature my current favorite character that is not Nile Abara, John Crawley but I wimped out and changed it at the end because I swore I would write the Crawley fic that we all need. Hear me out: John Crawley knew and worked with John and Ian Rider, was respected by both of them, was recruited by SCORPIA within one year in the field, is the Chief of Staff of MI6, the man who “no one gets a knife in the back without him signing off” and is also the man who walks his dog to check on Alex. There’s a mentorship waiting to happen there, preferably in a nice work study program during college where Alex finally gets to see the repercussions of his missions and Crawley helps try and pull him back from the black mark that SCORPIA would have put on him.

My personal fluffy favorite is the spinoff of Devil Went Down to Georgia where Joe Byrne did pull Alex out post Skeleton Key and brought him home. There’s a pretty extended one about where Tom ends up after Mates. There’s also an actual sequel but ask me no questions and all.

Skipping a few collabs and Febuwhump fics but Burning Questions was just supposed to be Branded - a fic where upon being captured by Razim he is brought in and forcibly branded to differentiate the appearances of Alex and Julius (since Razim has decided to have him killed after shooting the Secretary of State). As a result of the pain levels spiking when Alex actually sees that the SCORPIA logo is branded onto his cheek Razim considers that emotional pain might be something to investigate. There’s a couple thousand words on it, one day I might polish it up.

First Impressions is supposed to be a mirror verse of Alex working for MI6 which includes Three as Blunt, Rothman as Jones and of course Sagitta as K Unit while he’s up against his father as Yassen and Yassen as Crawley. But it was cut down significantly even if the ideas are pretty fun to consider.

Sorry this was probably more than you bargained for but it was fun to get everything out there so thank you for asking